Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jack Drake seems to be an oblivious man. Being Robin under his father's roof is surprisingly easy. Which Tim is thankful for, what he wasn't thankful for is how clingy the man had become. After his mom died, Jack Drake decided to become father of the year 24/7. Might as well call him a househusband the way he's acting, well mostly acting. He's been settling into his new marriage, it taking most of his time, and that's fine. Tim can deal with that. He knows how much they both loved his mother - Janet Drake wasn't something to take lightly.

And it’s not for nothing, Tim is a level headed kid. He took learning that his parents weren’t his biological parents in stride, it didn’t mean he loved them any less. They were still there for him… well, for the most part. They still gallivanted to places unknown for digs, which only gave Tim more time to spend with his brother. Brothers when Dick came to town. Siblings when Cassandra joined the family. Sometimes he hung out with Stephanie and Cassandra, feeling more like sisters -- even after an awkward discussion between him and Steph, that Tim kinda has a thing for his best friend. Both took it in stride. Jason was getting his groove back. Tim was content. Even still, it shook him when his mother died. It felt… wrong almost. See, in Tim’s head he was going to come clean one day and admit to his parents that he knew the truth. Of course, he was supposed to be like 20 years old. With her gone it feels like a mute point, so he keep it to himself.

Tim oddly found himself fine with how things were progressing with his father. It’s not everyday a guy falls in love with his physical therapist, it was a fast marriage and the boy was still a little raw from losing mom, it hadn’t really been that long to him; but, the woman was kind. She didn’t disrespect her memory nor Tim, even going as far as to do small things to celebrate his mom’s life and keep her memory alive. It was sweet. Tim smiled for the first time in a few weeks.

Of course, color Tim surprised when Jack Drake discovered he was Robin and put a stop to it. In all honesty, Tim had a plan when he would stop being Robin no later than 17. He didn’t really tell anyone this, but he also kind of felt like it would be a natural progression of things. It was suppose to be on his terms, his father taking it away felt like chopping a limb off. The phantom pains already taking over.

It also didn’t help that Jack was giving Bruce hell almost every time he seen him, it wasn’t hard to figure things out when one part fell into place. It hurt more, Tim thinks, that he wasn’t even able to go see the rest of his family. Needing to keep Jack away from Bruce as much as he could, it saved everyone the headache and the sad look in Bruce’s eyes that the man thinks no one can see when he watches one of his son’s leave. Jason and Steph kept him updated on stuff, there had even been a few times the pair of brothers called and Bruce was even able to greet him. Reminding not to worry, that they’ll figure something out. Tim tried to believe him, he really did.

He had to act, had to throw on his suit and go on the chase.

Now he’s fallen to the floor nearly covered in his father’s - Jack Drake’s - blood. It’s a mute point, really.

He can’t believe how absolutely stupid he is. The first time he’s back out as Robin when it really counts and he’s trying to catch the man trying to kill Jack Drake; he panicked, he fumbled. The only thought running through his head the whole time was simple: I can’t loose another person. I can’t. The cuts from losing Kon and Bart were still bleeding, the only person he could talk to had been Cassie. Even she still cried. Cissie, Greta, and Anita were in the same way as Cassie. Stephanie was hurt, ran off in shame. Tim’s already lost so many people he cares about in no time at all. He’s kept Cassie, Jason, just everyone he can close. He needed a break for once.

“Dad!” He started yelling at he ran into Drake Manor, pulling off his costume. He’ll worry about it later. “Dad, are you here?!”

“Dad? Please,” had been the last thing Tim had gotten out before the smell hit him.

It’s funny how people gasp in shock, isn’t it?

It didn't take long to come back to the present and smell the blood. See his father on the floor, Tim covered in his--  his father's blood. Tim gagged, coughing into his crying spell as he started to crawl backwards. He barely registered Bruce coming in only really grasping reality when the man was holding him. He tried to shield Tim, he really did in that caring way he always did. Because this wasn't Batman and Robin, no. This was orphaned Tim Drake and Batman. This was Bruce Wayne holding his son as he lost another person he cared about. Tim would pitifully chuckle later, planning his father’s funeral (with Alfred and Bruce’s help), that life must throw everything at him to keep him humble. At least Jason would chuckle with him, then.

“Gotta,” Tim heaves for air, talking to Bruce. “Gotta change, dad. Call GCPD.”

“Leave that to me, Tim,” if the boy was more at himself, he would realize that Bruce was - in fact - rocking him in comfort. “I’m still in the suit, direct line to Gordon.”

“Which one?”

“Both of them,” he hums, chest deep. Tim tries to find comfort in it. “I’ll tell them both.”

Tim can only nod.

By the time GCP arrives, the story had been sorted. Batman playing the role of hero who arrived too late while Tim plays the boy who’s just getting home. Oracle finds Boomerang cut any camera or security, and Tim just sits on a step feeling so out of his element. He doesn’t like this. So worried about all the wrong things, finding his dad’s killer, and never thinking the man would just show up to the manor. Like a well pressed package. It’s poor form.

James Gordon lays a firm hand on Tim’s shoulder, startling Tim leaving him to look up to find the fading to white red hair.

“I’m so sorry for this, son,” Jim sighs, that deep on he’s heard before as Robin, the one where he’s particulary disgusted with this city. “Do you know where your mother is?”

Tim bites his tongue from throwing a sarcastic comment, her death as one of Gotham’s elites was in the papers after all. Tim can’t hold the man to that, he doesn’t have time to scan the obits for some random rich woman when he has to help stop gang wars.

“She…” Tim clears his throat, feeling like someone took a sanding belt to it. “She died about four years ago.”

James Gordon’s face does that complicated thing, when it’s a painful thing to hear. The teen thinks he heard the man swear under his breath.

“Call me Jim, son,” he says instead, getting Tim prepared for the inevitable.

He wonders, briefly, if GCP will think he did it. He doubts it, Batman and Robin were on high alert to stop Boomerang; but 17 year olds have done worse things for lesser outcomes. Tim knows that all too well. It also hits him how he had first hand experience in death, in losing people. Kon, Bart, his mother, and now his father. It’s all too much.

It's all just too goddamn much.

“How old are you son?” Jim asks, almost like he making conversation and not getting ready to call for emergency placements that will take in teenagers.

“17,”

The man hums.

Out of the corner of Tim’s eye he can see Bruce, rather, Batman working. He does his best work worried sick about something, well that’s what he likes to tell them. There’s comfort, at least, in the familiar.

“Is there anyone we can contact?” He asks another question. “Family? Trusted friends?”

Tim looks down like he’s thinking, he can feel Batman’s eyes on him now. Just Bruce beneath the surface as he does a movement with his hand, a small thing that only Robin would know. He was wanting to go to Wayne Manor as it stood, he doesn’t think Jason would let him out of his sight for the next few hours. Besides, Tim really doesn’t want to be around Bernard’s parents longer than he has to.

“Mr. Wayne,” Tim breathes, playing up being just some kid. “Oh, um.. Bruce Wayne, family friends.”

At least Jim takes it, he gives a small smile and gentle pat to Tim’s shoulder. “It’s alright, son. I know Mr. Wayne well, I’ll call them for you.”

“Thank you, sir-- um, Jim.” Tim starts rubbing his hands together.

When Jim steps away, Batman comes in. Tim has to remind himself of the process. Of the appropriate reactions, no matter how old they were. Once, not long after he took on the Robin role, Batman had to calm down a 25 year old when he discovered his mother didn’t make it. He obviously had soft spots for people who lost their parents, no matter who they were.

“Do you need to get anything before Wayne shows up?” He asks, voice low. Some would think it’s simply comfort, not Bruce asking. The secret is that it’s always Bruce asking these kind of questions.

Tim nods, playing the part. “Is it alright if I grab some clothes? Personal things?”

"Hn," Batman makes the sound. "I'll accompany you."

In other circumstances Tim would find it funny, Batman following him to his room in Drake Manor. Almost like a dream, perhaps a start to a bad joke Dick would tell. Perhaps… That isn’t where they are right now. Instead, they cross the threshold of Tim’s room and Batman becomes Bruce. His stick-foot-in-mouth, but trying his best dad.

“They’ll want your devices. Laptop, tablet, maybe phone,” he’s speaking quickly, quietly. “Just to prove you weren’t here should be enough.”

“School related,” Tim answers the question he didn’t ask. “Others in the cave. O taught me how to jailbreak my phone to put me in different parts of Gotham.”

Bruce nods. “Anything stashed away?”

Tim pauses in packing his duffel bag, one Jason gave him. “Well…”

“Tim, Dick and Jason have their hiding spots too,” it sounds like a known promise.

The teenager sighs then, gently lifting the lose floor board and places several stacks of manila folders, along with old USB’s, underneath his clothes. “Just my old pictures from when I did my… night photography.”

“Good, good,” Bruce pauses. “I’m so sorry, son.”

“It’s alright, B,” Tim whispers, taking the brief moment to get a hug from his dad. “I just… I need time to think.”

“I’ll make sure you get it,” he affirms hand on Tim’s back, checking the beep on his cowl. “Alfred will be here soon.”

“Right,” Tim moves again grabbing some more clothes, glasses, contact case. Then the sick feeling hits his stomach, a dreadful thing, like he’s never going to see this place again. It’s disheartening, at the same time he feels relief. Then he feels guilt at that thought. He focuses up, grabbing a few more things. “Thank you, B.”

“It’s… Tim this is the least I could do for you,”

Tim shoulders the duffel, and they cross the threshold again. Bruce becomes Batman once more.

Alfred greets him at the bottom of the steps.