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Tim’s parents, Jack and Janet Drake, had drilled him on proper protocol should he ever be kidnapped; after all, it’s not like Jack and Janet would be there themselves to save him. They spent most of their lives abroad without Tim, often in places that didn’t have cell service (or just didn’t answer the phone regardless when Tim did bother to try and call). But outside the issue of getting a secure line to his parents to demand ransom, Jack and Janet viewed a ransom as wasted money filling the cesspool that is the lower classes of Gotham. It was beneath them, and rather costly, for a possibility to just be charged more money before the matter was dealt with. Not to mention the scandal that would break out should the media get word that the Drake heir was kidnapped.
It was all rather a large mess that young Tim would rather avoid entirely. And that was step number one in dealing with kidnappings: don’t get caught in the first place. Tim was always careful to lock up the house, only get in the car with verified Drake Industry hired chauffeurs, and keep well disguised when he went out on his nightly excursions to photograph Batman and Robin in the seedier parts of town.
But unfortunately, the luck of a 10 year old millionaire could not last. It all started this morning, when one of the newer drivers took a wrong turn. Tim looked up, immediately sensing the change. He was always a very observant child.
Tim gently tapped on the barrier between him and the driver. “Excuse me, Mr. Gonzo? We’re supposed to take 7th Street.”
The driver didn’t respond.
“Hello?” Tim knocked harder, wondering if the driver just didn’t hear him. He cleared his throat, using his best authoritative voice like Janet did when she had to set something right because the help was incompetent. “We’re going the wrong way, please turn around.” (Tim added the please; Janet wouldn’t have said that).
The driver stayed silent, and that’s when Tim began to suspect that something was very, very wrong. Onto rule number two of kidnappings: if you suspect you’re in a dangerous situation, get out of it. He looked out the window, quietly unbuckling as he took stock of where they were headed. They were only a little outside the city center, from here Tim could still book it in the direction of school, and in this district someone might even stop to help should he be pursued by the driver. Tim waited until the next stop in traffic, jerking on the door handle and pushing his body to roll out onto the street. Unfortunately, Tim’s plans were quickly halted as he realized the child locks had been engaged, keeping Tim trapped in the vehicle.
The driver called something back angrily to Tim in a language he didn’t understand, slamming his palm against the barrier and making Tim jump. Tim interpreted it as “ shut up stupid kid or i’ll hurt you”.
Tim gulped, slowly sitting back in the seat and hugging his backpack tight. Okay… okay. So. This was happening. And here Tim thought the hardest part of his day was going to be his Algebra test. But this was fine, just move down the list of rules. Number 3: If you’re kidnapped, cooperate. If Tim was being ransomed, then they probably wouldn’t hurt him until the kidnappers got a hold of Jack and Janet (so, never). If Tim behaved, they might not hit him at all, or at least he could buy himself some time in the beginning. And maybe by behaving he’d get more opportunities to run. Because that was the final rule: get yourself out of there. No one is coming.
Tim started taking deep breaths, keeping himself calm as the car headed further into Gotham’s depths. They were twisting and turning down Crime Alley, which Tim had grown familiar with in his vigilante stalkings: Batman and Robin swung by that fire escape every Tuesday. Robin ate a batburger on that rooftop. Tim got his first glimpse of Batman in that alleyway.
The thought of his heroes helped calm Tim down, picturing that they were just down the corner ready to jump in should anything happen. Of course, they weren’t, because they were busy doing whatever they did during the day as civilians. Unless they also fought crime during the day, but that would be weird because Tim’s never heard about them out in the daylight, and Batman would look pretty out of place in his all black getup at high noon. Besides, even vigilantes needed to sleep sometimes, probably.
These thoughts about Batman's mandatory nap time helped keep Tim sane right up until the car pulled into a dark looking warehouse with the giant garage door loudly rolling shut behind them. Tim gulped, listening to Mr. Gonzo get out and come around to Tim’s side of the vehicle. The door swung open, revealing a big muscular man in what looked to be a painfully small suit holding the door open mockingly.
“Oo’t of ‘ze car.” He instructed in a heavy, indiscernible accent. Tim complied, slowly ducking out of the car to prove he wasn’t making a run for it. Mr. Gonzo grabbed the backpack from Tim’s arms and chucked it into the backseat before placing one of his large palms on Tim’s shoulder and forcing Tim to walk in front of him. Tim’s eyes were darting around, taking in the rafters up above and the massive crates along the walls. The young detective had a funny feeling those crate labels were inaccurate: no crime group needed this many shipments of no. 2 pencils.
But most importantly, Tim noted that they were not alone. Several men and women stood guarding these crates, packing firearms and scowling down at Tim. A few of the more maniacal in the crowd were giving him unsettling grins. The boy gulped, ducking his head and trying to pretend that he was still in control.
Tim was guided up a rickety metal staircase into what looked to be a rundown office hallway, and then turned into a room with no window on the door. Inside was a mildewy couch and armchair, with an oriental rug and a broken motivational plaque from long ago on the wall. A desk sat in front of the couch, with a figure sat in the office chair behind it, currently turned around like some nefarious villain.
As the figure rotated to face him, Tim realized two things: the nefarious villain analogy was not far off, and he was in a lot of trouble. This was Falcone, crime lord of Gotham. Falcone had most of this city under his thumb, and the only reason Tim even knew how bad he was was because he had watched Batman beat him up last week. Falcone had certainly healed nicely.
“Timothy Drake.” Falcone all but purred, smirking at Tim who was still frozen in the doorway. “I see you got my invitation.” With a nod from Falcone, Tim was shoved forward, all but falling on the overly plush couch. Falcone pulled two pairs of manacles from a drawer of the desk, handing both over to Mr. Gonzo who chained Tim’s wrists and ankles together.
“I suppose you’re wondering, ‘to what do I owe the honor?’” Falcone monologued, watching as Mr. Gonzo checked the restraints. “Well you see Timothy, I’m a friend of your parents. Your dad, actually. You see, he and I have an arrangement of sorts. Businessmen things. You understand, don’t you?” Tim gave a hasty nod. “Good. You’re a smart little boy. But you see, Timothy,” Falcone leaned forward on the desk, looking Tim in the eye, “it seems these days your dad and I aren’t exactly… seeing eye to eye. He owes me money- broke a promise, you might say. And who likes a friend that doesn’t keep their word, hmm?”
“No one.” Tim said quietly, once he realized he was supposed to respond. Tim didn’t actually know, because he didn’t have many friends, but he was prepared to agree to anything this mafia lord said if it meant he wasn’t about to be shot in the head. The thought made him tremble a bit.
“Exactly!” Falcone agreed, giving Tim a grin that reminded the boy of a snarling wolf. “So you see, you and I are just gonna set things right. That’s all. He took something from me, I took something from him. Fair’s fair.”
(Tim nodded, really hoping the ‘thing’ taken wasn’t him, because if that was the case Jack would take that trade any day of the week and Falcone would just walk away disappointed.)
“So you and I are gonna give your folks a little call.” Falcone explained, pulling out a phone. “And then we’re going to play a few games. You like games, don’t you Timothy?”
“They won’t answer.” Tim blurted out, trying not to think what kind of games Falcone would have in mind.
Falcone paused. “Do you think so?” Falcone hummed, looking down at Tim patronizingly. He dialed the number, the two of them listening to the quiet ringing noise filling the room around them. And then, just as Timothy predicted, there was the start of Jack’s voicemail message.
Falcone looked down at his phone with a small frown, and immediately the room seemed to drop 10 degrees. “Ignoring my phone calls now, Jackie? I didn’t think you had the balls.” He tapped his phone against his chin, thinking. “Bet this whole Egypt trip is just another escape tactic. The fucking nerve.” Falcone’s eyes traveled to Tim making Tim feel like a pitiful ant up for inspection, being judged if his existence would be allowed to continue. “Where’s his phone?”
“Car.” Mr. Gonzo grunted.
Falcone whirled on Mr. Gonzo, his glare a burning inferno. “Then go get it!” Mr. Gonzo hurried back down the stairs, and Tim was left with the sinking feeling of dread that his life was about to get very unpleasant. The henchman quickly returned with Tim’s bookbag in hand and Falcone began tearing it apart to find the flip phone hidden in one of the pockets. (Tim hadn’t used it before in the car because it was important not to get others involved when escaping a kidnapping, lest the media might hear. The same went for getting law enforcement help.)
Falcone came around the desk, holding the cell phone between them as it called ‘Jack Drake’. The ringing was louder now, Tim staring down with dread at the phone held just in front of his face. It was the longest minute of Tim’s life, even when he knew exactly what was going to happen.
“You’ve reached the voicemail of Jack Dra-”
Falcone slammed the cell phone against Tim’s face, making his cheek sting. Tim’s eyes watered at the unexpected pain, watching as Falcone tossed the phone onto the desk.
“Oh don’t be such a baby, that was nothing.” Falcone scoffed. “But it seems your father has determined we’re going to be playing a bit earlier than expected.” Falcone painfully gripped Tim’s chin, leaning in close enough that Tim could smell the whiskey on his breath as he was forced to look Falcone in the eye.
“I am going to break you.” Falcone explained darkly. It wasn’t a threat; it was a promise. “I am going to beat you into a bloody pulp. I am going to break your bones. I am going to make you scream so loud your father hears your cries on the other side of the earth. I will take everything he loves and desecrate it for the insubordination he has shown today.”
Tim started outright crying now, hating that his fate was sealed for such a stupid reason. Why was his father dumb enough to deal with crime lords? Surely the whole Drake company would be enough! And what about all those archeology trips for artifacts? Didn’t they make money?
“I-I can pay you myself, sir?” Tim offered pathetically. He had no idea what Jack owed Falcone, but Tim had been told he had his own hefty trust fund set aside. Maybe Tim could somehow access it in an emergency situation like being held hostage by a crime lord.
But Falcone only gave a cruel chuckle at Tim’s suggestion. “This isn’t about money anymore, kid. It’s about Goddamn respect.”
The next several days of Tim’s life were literal torture. Each day started with Falcone having Tim dragged up to his office, forcing Tim to listen as Falcone gave Jack and even Janet a call. When no one answered, Falcone would smack Tim around himself for a while, cursing him out before throwing him back down the stairs. Sometimes the armed guards would have their fun kicking him around a little, and sometimes Tim was just shoved into the corner and forgotten about. The garage door had never even opened again, making Tim wonder how the guards themselves got out of here. A water bottle and granola bar were both thrown his way once a day. And then, in the evening, Falcone would try to make a call again, starting the whole horrible process over.
Tim winced, and then winced again, any facial movement pulling at the split lip he had just gotten from Falcone after failed phone call number 7. Falcone was breathing heavily, clenching his phone so tightly in his grip Tim wouldn’t be surprised if it simply shattered.
“...those skeeving little rats.” Falcone hissed. He grabbed Tim by the front of his shirt, shaking the boy back and forth. “They’re not even planning on coming back are they? Are they? They must have told you something!”
“No, I- I don’t know-!” Tim’s frantic responses were ignored, Falcone instead painfully slamming Tim against the wall.
“You’re fucking useless!” Falcone roared. “I’m out 200 Million dollars and all I’ve got to show for it is some fucking brat! Fuck it, stop with the waterworks, you fucking pansy!”
Tim tried, he really did, but he couldn’t stop crying. He was hungry, and cold, and tired, and in pain, and all he wanted was to just go home.
Falcone raised his arm for another punch, but then down below on the warehouse floor the sound of gunshots startled them both. Falcone dropped Tim like a sack of potatoes, grabbing his tommy gun and running out to see what kind of ruckus was going down. Tim didn’t care; in fact all he wanted to do was just lie down right here on the floor and sleep.
Tim may have done just that, actually, because when he next opened his eyes all the gunfire had already stopped and Batman was standing in the doorway.
Tim blinked. “Batman?” He slurred, trying to decide if this was a hallucination. It certainly felt real, even if the situation was bizarre. Since when was Batman even here?
Batman came over, pulling out a set of tools and expertly picking apart the manacles. Tim flinched, but Batman put a gentle gloved hand on Tim’s arm. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I know.” Tim tried to sit up straighter, wanting to put his best foot forward when he was finally meeting Batman face to face. Gosh he must look like a mess. He was dutifully ignoring the pain in his lip, which wasn’t so bad now that it had semi-scabbed over. “I just- the, uh, manacles, it’s been a while since they were off. It pinched.”
“Sorry. I’ll be more gentle.” Batman? Gentle? But sure enough, Batman moved slowly, carefully removing the metal clasps and even rubbing some sort of cold cream onto the sores left behind by the cuffs.
“Thank you.” Tim looked up at him in awe. “How did you find me?”
“I’ve been tracking Falcone’s movements for years now.” Batman explained, like Tim was worthy of hearing the full story despite being 10 years old. “He was operating outside his modus operandi the past few days. It was suspicious enough that we investigated. I’m glad we did.”
“‘We’... Is Robin here too?” Tim gasped, looking around as if the brightly colored sidekick would just appear.
“He contacted the authorities, then was sent to the bat cave for the night.” Batman explained. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“No, no, it’s okay!” Tim hurriedly insisted. “I’m excited to meet you, Mr. Batman.”
Batman didn’t grin, but it was a near thing that made Tim’s heart swell. “What’s your name?”
“Oh, me? I’m Tim.” Tim stuck out his hand, and then promptly felt like an idiot. “Tim Drake.”
Batman humored him, shaking Tim’s hand. Then Batman paused. “Your parents are out of town.”
Tim blinked. How did Batman know that? Wait, of course he knew that, Batman knew everything. “Oh, well, yeah? They’re out a lot, they need to go on archeological digs. You know how it is. Do you know? You must know. You’re Batman.”
Batman frowned slightly. “Do they often leave you alone?”
Uh oh. Tim knew that tone of voice. Just like the kidnapping rules, Tim had been taught how to deal with this situation. As Jack and Janet liked to put it, other kids Tim’s age weren’t nearly as mature and independent, so other adults thought Tim needed a babysitter. But he was really fine on his own, so he just needed to tell a teensy tiny little lie so all the kind Adults didn’t worry about him so much.
“No, they don’t leave me totally alone.” Tim hurriedly explained. “My neighbor Bruce Wayne looks after me.”
Batman stared at him for a long while. “Bruce Wayne.” He parroted slowly.
Tim nodded. “Yup, he comes over once a day to check in on me.”
“Does he now?” Batman spoke in a perfect deadpan, and Tim could just imagine the unimpressed eyebrow raise beneath the mask. Looks like Batman was one of the nicer adults who needed more convincing.
“Yeah, and the rest of the time I’m at school. And he lives right nearby so it’s no trouble, he says.” Tim continued on with his cover story. “He helps me with my homework and meals and things. Usually we order pizza, it’s great.”
“Mhmm.” Batman still didn’t seem convinced, but he had moved onto gathering Tim up in his arms, heading back out the door. He headed down the stairs, where the entire warehouse floor had been taken over by the Gotham Police Department. An ambulance was out on the street, and this was Batman’s destination as he carried Tim over.
“He’s got significant bruising, possibly a sprained wrist.” Batman explained, setting Tim down on a gurney near one of the nurses. “I’ll let you be the judge of the rest.”
The nurse nodded, gently running her hands along Tim’s body as she checked for injuries. “Rough day, huh, kiddo?”
Tim grunted, but most of his attention was focused on Batman as if his gaze alone could keep the vigilante from disappearing. So far it was working, and Batman was staying near the gurney as he debriefed in hushed tones with Commissioner Gordon.
“No broken bones.” The nurse murmured. “Signs of fatigue, dehydration. How’s your head feeling?”
“Fine.” Tim shrugged, but winced as she ran her fingers along the bump on the back of his head.
“Ooh, that doesn’t look good.” The nurse winced in sympathy. Next she shined a light right in Tim’s eyes, which wasn’t appreciated. “You might have a concussion.” She turned to Batman and Commissioner Gordon now, pocketing her light. “We may want to hospitalize him to check for further damages.”
Uh oh. The hospital would just want to call his parents too, but even worse they’d ask questions and this would turn into a whole mess. After all he’d been through, Tim didn’t want to also have to deal with a furious Jack and Janet.
“I’m just tired.” Tim insisted. “All I want to do is go home.”
“Alright, alright.” The nurse assured him, turning back and making a quiet shushing noise.
“We can call his folks and get them to pick him up here, get a rundown of what happened and input on what they want to do as his primary caretakers.” Commissioner Gordon agreed, which would be nice if he didn’t also want to contact Tim’s parents.
“His parents are out of the country, unavailable for contact.” Batman explained before Tim made excuses. Which was good, because frankly after getting beat up for days over the fact his parents never answered their phone Tim didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
Gordon frowned, turning to Tim now. “Who’s watching you then, Son?”
“Bruce Wayne.” Tim didn’t miss a beat.
Commissioner Gordon stared at him. “This is the first I’m hearing of this, and Bruce is a good buddy of mine. How long has he been in charge of you?”
Uh-oh. Tim had forgotten about that detail, and he squirmed a bit where he was sitting. “Just for a little while. This was the first time, actually. There was a mix up with the drop off situation.”
Gordon’s frown deepened. “Strange that Bruce didn’t call it in, then. He’s not in the habit of letting kids go missing on him.”
Uh-oh again! Now Tim was making Bruce Wayne look bad in front of his best friend. “He didn’t know.”
“He didn’t know? Your parents were just dropping you on his doorstep?”
“Our driver got lost. Our old house sitter quit.” Tim could feel himself beginning to sweat. “I have a concussion.” He blurted, frantic for the first excuse to get out of this mess.
To Tim’s credit, the nurse gave an awkward chuckle. Batman stepped forward. “I’ll get him home, Commissioner.”
“See that someone’s actually there.” Gordon muttered, but he waved his hand to let Batman proceed. Batman gathered Tim in his arms again.
“You know, I can walk.” Tim protested, knowing he was a bit old for this sort of behavior, but also maybe this was for the best because his legs did feel a little shaky after everything that happened.
“Almost there.” Batman replied, and wow. That was the batmobile. And Batman was oh so carefully buckling Tim into the passenger seat. Tim could feel himself practically vibrating with excitement, grinning as Batman started up that powerful engine and revved down the road.
Tim’s excitement was somewhat dimmed by the previous conversation, though. He had to set things right lest Batman think Jack and Janet were bad parents- or worse, that Bruce Wayne was a bad guardian.
Tim bit his lip, getting his thoughts together. “I was lying before.” Tim started off quietly.
“I know.” Batman nodded, stoic as ever.
“With Commissioner Gordon, I mean.” Tim explained, trying to sort out all he said and what holes he had to patch now. Maybe Tim really did have a concussion, but at least he didn’t have to try and lie to someone so close to Bruce Wayne anymore. “It’s not my first time with Bruce Wayne watching me. I just didn’t want Gordon to think any less of him.”
Batman stayed silent. Tim couldn’t tell if that was a good thing, but he soldiered on. “The truth is Bruce Wayne is a really good guardian.” Tim explained. “The best, actually. I mean he clearly cares a lot about his sons, Dick and Jason. Jack and Janet’s flight just got moved up so they had to leave a day or two early.” (Was that a thing? Tim hoped that’s how planes worked). “And so Bruce Wayne didn’t know it was his turn yet. I mean you can’t even fault him, in his eyes I’ve been missing for like, maybe a day. Or maybe he just thought I was locking myself up in my room, because I do that a lot. Jack and Janet tend to forget to look for me there. It’s nice when I’m looking for privacy sometimes. And Bruce Wayne respects boundaries like that.”
“You seem to know a lot about Bruce Wayne.” Batman interrupted, eyes still firmly on the road.
Tim pretended to roll his eyes, except he couldn’t commit to it because rolling his eyes at Batman would be so unbelievably rude. “Well, yeah? Like I said, he takes care of me all the time.”
“I wasn’t aware Bruce Wayne had so many gaps in his schedule.” Batman observed. “It would seem being a CEO doesn’t take long at all.”
“He comes over after work.” Tim explained. “And it doesn’t really matter, anyway. I’m great at taking care of myself. Bruce Wayne only helps with the grown up stuff.”
“Mhmm.” Bruce Wayne pulled out of Gotham proper, heading up the long elitist road towards both Drake and Wayne Manor. “In that case, I’ll drop you off at Wayne Manor.”
…Uh-oh. “You really don’t have to do that, Mr. Batman.” Tim tried not to reveal how his heart had skipped a beat. Imagine how awkward it would be for Batman to drop Tim off and then Bruce Wayne pulled the rug out from under all his lies? Sure, Bruce seemed nice to his kids, but he was under no obligation to play along with Tim. And it was 2:00am for crying out loud! “I’m sure Bruce Wayne doesn’t want to be disturbed at this hour.”
“I’m certain a guardian like that with a missing child is worried sick at this hour.” Batman argued, easily passing the Drake Manor driveway.
“No, really, he needs his sleep, he’s very punctual about that.” Tim insisted. “I can just call him tomorrow and he’ll come over. It’s fine. I don’t go to his house.”
“An exception can certainly be made after a kidnapping attempt.” Batman continued driving up the hill. “But if Mr. Wayne prefers, I can take the both of you over to Drake Manor myself.”
Tim bit his lip, trying to figure out any other way out of this.He looked out the window, starting to see the Wayne front door crest the horizon. “I can walk the rest of the way, you can stop here.”
Batman did not stop. He kept driving, perfectly parking the batmobile in the loop in front of the extravagant entrance.
Tim gulped. “Well, uh, thanks for the ride?” Tim tried not to let this sully his batmobile ride, stepping out and looking up at the manor nervously. It was twice the size of Drake Manor, and Tim felt pathetically small on its doorstep. The sound of a second car door opening meant Tim had no chance of waiting for Batman to drive away and then make a run for it. Instead, Batman walked up to stand next to Tim, reaching out and pressing the doorbell.
Surprisingly, a balding old man dressed primly answered the door almost right away. It was to this man’s credit that he merely raised an eyebrow at Gotham’s vigilante and a random beat up child standing on the doorstep this late at night.
“Is Mr. Wayne home?” Batman asked.
The butler looked at Batman for a long while. “He’s currently indisposed.” (Tim tried to murmur about how they tried, but Batman placed a hand on his shoulder to keep Tim from leaving) “To what do I owe this honor?”
“This is Timothy Drake.” Batman gestured to Tim. “His parents are out of town. He has informed me that Bruce Wayne is his temporary guardian.”
Tim hung his head, his ears turning red at his climbing embarrassment. He knew Batman was just trying to look out for him, but this felt unnecessarily cruel.
“I see.” The butler slowly nodded. “And is that the case?”
Tim winced. “Um, I…”
“As far as I’m concerned, yes.” Batman cut Tim off, giving Tim’s shoulder a reassuring pat.
At this answer, the butler gave Tim a warm smile. “Well then come in lad, I’ll fix you something to eat.”
Wait, what?
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” Tim hastily explained, feeling as though he was watching in 3rd person as this butler gently grabbed his wrist and guided him across the threshold.
“Nonsense, you look to be starving.” The butler tutted. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Alfred Pennyworth. Groundskeeper, butler, chef, driver, housekeeper, and occasionally, librarian. At your service, Master Tim.”
“Oh, wow.” Tim was only partially aware the front door had been shut. He was really inside Mr. Wayne’s house, and all because of a lie. He felt a bit sick to his stomach. “Um, r-really all I want to do is go to sleep, if that’s alright?”
“But of course.” Alfred assured him. Tim made to lay down on one of the couches, but Alfred ushered him down the hall. “I’m sure you’ve had quite an exciting day, but the guest room is just down the hall. Sleep as long as you’d like, I’ll whip up breakfast in the morning when you’re ready.”
“Ok.” Tim felt himself get tucked in by Alfred, who explained more about the adjacent bathroom and bringing him spare clothes and all other sorts of amenities Tim didn’t deserve. It was a lot to take in, and Tim was only half listening, already formulating ways to get out of this tangled web of lies.
It had been Tim’s new plan to sneak out as soon as Alfred was gone and make a run for it back to Drake Manor. That plan went out the window as soon as his head hit the pillow and Tim was out like a light. Who knew that surviving a kidnapping could be so exhausting? Tim blinked, opening his eyes to realize that sunlight was already streaming through the bedroom window. Oops.
A light knock at the door caught his attention, Alfred peeking into the room. “Ah, you’re awake. Would you care to join us for breakfast, Master Tim?”
“Um…sure.” Tim slowly slid out of bed. He didn’t want to take advantage of the Waynes, but he was still very hungry, so he might as well take the food offered. Tim would need the energy for the trek back home.
“Would you like to change before?” Alfred gestured to a sweatshirt and jeans set on the nightstand. “They may be a bit large, but Master Jason was more than willing to lend you a new set of clothing for the time being.”
“Oh, no, I’m good.” Tim hurriedly waved off the offer. Dirtying Jason’s clothes would be too much.
Alfred gave a thoughtful hum. “After breakfast, then.” And without letting Tim protest again, Alfred left the room.
Tim hurried to follow Alfred down the long corridor to the kitchen, looking around at the ornate decor and feeling like he was floating in a dream. Alfred glanced at Tim over his shoulder. “I’m currently just about finished whipping everything up. If you would be so kind as to take a seat in the dining room, I shall bring the dishes out momentarily.”
Tim nodded, walking into the room Alfred gestured to, and found the one and only Jason Todd already sat at the dining table. The older boy grinned, waving Tim over to the seat across from him. Surprised by such a warm introduction, Tim plopped himself down in the chair Jason indicated.
“Hey! It’s nice to finally meet you.” Up close, Jason’s grin read as very suspicious. “Man, Bruce sends me to bed early one time and I miss all the action, huh? Oh, I’m Jason by the way.”
“Tim. Drake.” Tim hurriedly introduced himself, quickly taking Jason’s offered hand and giving the other boy a shake. Jason squeezed Tim’s fingers a bit and proved he was surprisingly strong. Tim felt quite on display, and this was only emphasized by the way Jason was looking him over as if to size him up. Jason probably wasn’t all that impressed, considering Tim was still in his dirty clothes from three days ago.
“So, Tim.” Jason leaned back in the chair, lounging about like a man in charge despite only being a few years older than Tim. “Why’d you say Bruce Wayne was your guardian, anyhow? You covering for someone?”
Tim considered Jason’s words, realizing that the boy had just gifted Tim the perfect explanation for why he kept insisting Bruce Wayne was his guardian when no one in this house had met him before today. Tim leaned over the table, looking Jason straight in the eye. “Can you keep a secret?” He whispered.
Jason’s gaze turned serious, any mirth wiped from his expression as he leaned across the table too and gave Tim a firm nod. “You can tell me anything, kid.” Jason whispered back. “I’ll make sure your secret and you are kept safe, okay?”
Tim nodded in acknowledgement, clearing his throat. “The truth is… Batman’s my guardian.”
“Oh my god.” Jason responded immediately, staying stoic but clearly fighting to control himself.
“It’s true.” Tim expressed, keeping his face very serious for the serious business that this was. “Batman watches over me when my parents are out of town, but if I told the GCP that his whole entire reputation would be ruined, so I had to think of something. And then he dropped me off here to keep up a good image, but he’ll be back tonight. So you can’t tell anyone else, okay? But everything’s under control. Batman is my real guardian, and he’s really, really, good at it. And sneaky, so don’t expect to ever see him at my house, either.”
“This is the best day of my life.” Jason said quietly, biting his lip to keep from grinning. “What’s Batman the babysitter like, Timbit?”
Tim only frowned at him, realizing Jason wasn’t taking him very seriously. “You don’t believe me.” Tim huffed, slouching back in his seat.
“Of course I don’t.” Jason patted Tim’s hand consolingly, sitting back himself as well. “You are a horrendously bad liar Tim.”
Tim threw his arms up in the air. “Well I wasn’t before! I don’t know why Batman didn’t believe me.”
“Believe who?” A third voice entered the conversation as a young man walked through the doorway. He looked to Tim, who gave a sheepish wave, embarrassed that Dick Grayson walked in just as he was ranting about the injustice of the world. “Oh, hi. Who are you?”
Jason was quick to fill his older brother in. “This is Tim Drake. He told Batman last night that Bruce Wayne is his babysitter.”
Dick paused, halfway to sitting down in a chair next to Jason. He grinned at Tim. “This is the best day of my life.”
“I know, right?” Jason snickered, the two siblings clearly in on some joke that Tim didn’t get.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Tim.” Dick held out his hand, shaking Tim’s. “I’m Dick Grayson.”
“Nice to meet you too.” Tim murmured, but he gave the elder a shy smile. At least both of the Wayne kids were being really nice about the whole intrusion thing. As was Alfred, who brought in the food just a moment later.
“Thanks Alfie for the brunch invite.” Dick helped the butler set everything out with practiced ease. At Tim’s confused head tilt, Dick explained. “I have my own apartment in Blüdhaven, but I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
“We’re certainly glad for your presence any time, Master Dick.” Alfred assured him.
Meanwhile, Tim was still processing all the food being set on the table. There were plenty of options, from both the sweet and savory ends of the spectrum. Tim waited for the others to start plating before filling his own with waffles, berries, scrambled eggs, and sausage. The three dug into their food, conversation halted for a while as they focused on inhaling all this delicious breakfast.
Of course, Tim’s good luck could only last so long. It was as he was finishing his last bite of waffle that Bruce Wayne appeared, dressed in a black turtleneck and slacks. “Good morning, everyone.”
A chorus of ‘good mornings’ echoed, and Tim was polite enough to wish Bruce Wayne a good morning too, even as he was doing his best attempt at simply sinking into the floor. Bruce’s gaze found him anyway, giving Tim a warm smile. “Ah, good. You’re awake. How are you feeling, chum?”
Tim blinked, glancing around the table to see that he was really the one Bruce was talking to. “Um, I’m good?”
“Good, that’s good.” Bruce nodded, taking a seat at the head of the table between Tim and Jason. He folded his hands on top of the table like a proper CEO. “Now, I do have some questions for you about a rather confusing phone call I received from Commissioner Gordon last night.”
Tim grimaced, and Jason snorted. “Geez, you’re gonna make Tim feel like he’s going to the Principal’s office.”
“I’m sorry.” Tim apologized. “I didn’t mean for you to get in trouble with your friend.”
“I believe you.” Bruce assured him, grabbing a plate for himself and scooping some fruit and eggs onto it. Tim appreciated that Bruce’s attention was no longer staring him down; it turned out that Bruce Wayne could be quite intimidating, who knew? “And I’d like you to believe me when I say that no one here is in trouble. But I am confused, Tim. You see, the last time I spoke with your parents, they were headed to Egypt with no intentions of being back for a long time. So in the meantime, who is actually supposed to be in charge of you?”
Tim bit his lip, considering his options. “...Batman?” (Dick snorted into his cereal).
Bruce gave Tim a wry grin. “Something tells me that isn’t the case.”
Tim shrugged, looking down at his feet. “Worth a shot.” A warm hand was placed on his shoulder, and Tim looked up, finding Bruce’s kind but sad eyes focused on him, all mirth gone.
“Tim, you have been through a very traumatic experience this week.” Bruce explained gently. “It’s the kind of thing Adults don’t deal with very well, either. No one should have to recover from that alone. Do you understand that?”
Tim thought about this for a moment. He was used to dealing with things alone, but Tim knew there were some things you would need another person for- like if Tim broke his arm, he would need a doctor, and this must be one of those things as well. “I guess that makes sense.” Tim admitted.
“Do you have someone who can take care of you?”
Tim thought about this too. Jack and Janet weren’t going to be home for a long time, and Tim had no one hired to watch him, either. And even if they were home, Jack and Janet were never the nurturing type. Would they even care? Against his will, Tim started to tear up, wondering if he ever had had a person who would take care of him.
“I- sorry.” Tim wiped away his tears, feeling horribly embarrassed. “I don’t know why- I’m not normally like this.”
“It’s alright Tim, it’s okay.” Bruce assured him. Out of the corner of his eye, Tim noticed Alfred ushering the others out of the room, giving the two of them privacy. “This is one of those symptoms of a traumatic event I was talking about. Is it alright if I hug you?”
That question just made him sob harder, but Tim nodded, and soon his face was buried in Bruce’s shoulder, probably getting snot all over what was likely a very expensive sweater. Bruce Wayne didn’t seem to mind, and he kept rubbing his right hand up and down Tim’s back in a way that felt heavenly, holding Tim tightly with the kind of security Tim needed right now. It had to be uncomfortable kneeling on the floor that way to hold Tim, but Bruce didn’t waver.
“You know, a smart young boy once said that I make an excellent caretaker.” Bruce spoke softly after a while. “I could take care of you, if you like.”
Tim sniffed, feeling another wave of guilt wash over him. “You don’t have to, Mr. Wayne. And m’sorry I told everybody you were.”
“I don’t mind.” Bruce explained, pulling back and clasping both Tim’s hand’s in his own. “Truly, I don’t. My house is big enough for an army of people, Alfred loves to have people to cook for, and Jason’s always bugging me about not having enough people his age around. Honestly you’d be doing me a favor.”
Tim gave a tearful laugh, imagining the idea of little ol’ Tim doing a favor for Bruce Wayne.
“Tim, you are more than welcome to stay here.” Bruce continued, giving Tim a soft smile. “Would you please stay here and let us take care of you?’
Tim sniffled. “I… I would like that.” Tim admitted the truth, even if he felt like he didn’t really deserve it.
“I’d like that, too.” Bruce said, and gave him another firm hug.
