Chapter Text
In the end, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne died.
He was buried with his mother and father on the plot of land bought for their family. His name was carved into the stone beneath the names of his parents above the freshly dug earth where his body laid to rest and rot in peace.
There was hardly an affair for his passing. No announcement of a funeral or a celebration of life. Not even an obituary was published. Just a few people there to watch his body go in the ground (no one would want to be seen mourning his passing). Not even a preacher had been called to say a few words. Just Bruce Wayne and Ms. Dana Winters-Drake under a lone umbrella, watching the casket lowered into the earth with a single white rose atop it. The last of the Drake family legacy; buried.
But that made sense.
If the affair had been announced publicly, protests might’ve taken place. Vandalism to the site of his burial. Vitriol for the dead killer, the dead son of Gotham that had taken their trust, their hope for a better future, and crushed it under his heel. But they would suppose that’s what they got for believing in a billionaire. Everything and everyone in this city got corrupted, even the brightest star they’d seen in a while. They’d just hoped this kid would be different.
His death made national news. It trended for a bit. People came up with theories and conspiracies. His family was bombarded by the media, they publicly made efforts toward aiding the victims families and investigations, and refrained from speaking on his name in any interviews after. The reaction was mixed, but mostly positive toward the family. Most people respected them for their stance.
They had a protective detail for weeks after the news broke.
The investigation into his offenses was still underway, aided by the findings from the Justice League of America. But it really didn’t matter what they found. People would decide for themselves what they believed. After all, it was the court of public opinion that decided guilt, not the court of law. And the public found him to be guilty. They wouldn’t be dissuaded by the mere findings of a government body, not when so many salivated at the fall of the mighty, not when government bodies had covered things up before for the sake of the rich and powerful.
Tim really couldn’t blame them.
It had been about seven months since his death, and in the present he was sat on the ledge of the rooftop, watching the lines of people fill the rows of bleachers for the Gotham Prep Graduation ceremony. The colored flags hung proudly on the scaffolding, ruffling in the slight wind that an evening at the end of May enjoyed. It was a pleasant night, not too hot, and the sky couldn’t have been more clear, a miracle for Gotham reserved it seemed for the celebration of it’s future generation, hope for better than years past.
He spotted the Wayne family easily. The crowd seemed to part, and he could hear the volume increase from his distant perch, people whispering into a roar as Bruce Wayne and his clan took their seats.
Duke strode out in front, his hair freshly trimmed, and blazer sitting across proud and confident shoulders. He’d finished his year at university with a perfect GPA and honors, on track to graduate the four-year program early. It was speculated he had offers already for his masters program from top schools across the country after he graduated. And he had a secret campus fan-page dedicated to him that had quite the following.
Dick and Barbara followed behind him, chatting animatedly amongst themselves despite the crowd of onlookers. It appeared as though Dick was out of the sling, wearing a blue cardigan with the sleeves rolled up that Tim just knew was going to get him a thirsty fan-edit made by the next morning on multiple platforms. He was walking well, no limp in sight and by the way his hands were moving while he talked, his arm had healed up decently. And Babs looked as put-together as she always sounded over the comms, rolling her eyes at something Dick had said to her.
The two of them headed toward the track seating, followed closely by Cass and Steph.
Cass dressed simply in a casual black dress and boots, her hair cut a little shorter, and it seemed like she’d finally managed to get the nose piercing she talked about getting. Steph was in her signature purple, a turtleneck shirt and slacks, her hair pulled back into a bun. She was smiling as she leaned over to say something to Cass, who smirked in response. It did Tim some good to see her smiling, to see that she was still happy, even if he couldn’t be there to hear whatever it was that had made her smile, even if he couldn’t laugh along with her.
God, he wished he could hear her voice right then.
Bruce came into view next, Artemis on his arm. He leaned over to say something to her, patting her hand reassuringly. Since Tim’s death, Artemis had come to stay at Wayne Manor to recover fully, under the care of Alfred and his newest protege, Bizarro. And looking down at the scene, Tim was fairly sure Cass was gaining some competition in the favorite daughter category, not that Cass would probably mind, she’d always said she wished that she had more ‘feminine energy’ around the manor (she also said that the manor had a distinct ‘man smell’ that couldn’t be masked by Alfred’s cleaning regimen).
Closely behind them, Jason followed, dressed as he always did for any occasion in a leather jacket and heavy boots. But he looked distinctly less intimidating with the woman he was escorting into the ceremony holding onto his elbow. Dana had been temporarily relocated to a facility in Gotham while her former place was rebuilt. She looked stronger and more healthy than Tim had ever seen her, a radiance in her face that he hadn’t witnessed since before his father had died. She held a bouquet of hyacinth flowers in her arms. She used to be embarrassed about how loud her laugh was, but Tim swore he could hear her laughter from where he was, snort and all, after Jason whispered something to her.
Kate waltzed in just after. Her well-tailored suit doing nothing to stop her from slinking past Jason and Dana to prod Bruce in the side. Bruce noticeably sighed, stopped, and seemed to introduce her to Artemis, who exchanged a hand-shake with Kate, covering her laugh with her free hand.
Cullen and Harper brought up the rear. It seemed that Harper had come back into town before the start of the summer semester to catch the ceremony, and to hang out with her little brother again. She was chatting animatedly with Lois Lane and her husband, while Conner messed with Jon’s neatly styled hair.
Over the next fifteen minutes, all the attendees found their seats and the ceremony began. Everyone applauded while the senior class made the processional to their seats. Jason wolf-whistled loudly when Damian came in. Damian scowled visibly, obviously restraining himself from acts of physical violence in front of civilians. There was a long boring speech by the superintendent. Then the principal. Then the guest speaker, who was some semi-famous Gotham local Tim had vaguely heard of. Only then did the class start to get their diplomas. And being a ‘W’, Damian was toward the end in a class of 200 or so, it was a while before he got to cross the stage.
Tim hopped down from the ledge as Olivia Jane Van Deere was called up. By then the sun was starting to go down, and the lights had kicked on. He opened the bag he’d brought along with him and set up his equipment. The sound system was laughably easy to hijack, and in the matter of a minute, Tim had access to the speakers, the microphones, and the lights at the tips of his fingers.
He stood back up in time for the principal to announce Damian’s name. Waiting until Damian was half-way across the stage, Tim killed the lights except for a bright overhead light shining down directly on Damian. Then rose from the clamor of the crowd the dulcet tones of the most infamous song in music history. Everyone started looking around, the administration was rushing around trying to fix it, some people, like Jon, laughed thinking it was planned, but Tim’s family looked toward the roof in a matter of seconds after Rick Astley had taken over the speakers.
Jason grinned from ear to ear, leaning over to kiss Dana’s cheek lightly and climb out of the bleacher row.
After the song ended, Tim surrendered control of the systems back to administration. Damian had glared up at him the entire duration of the song. It seemed the absence and death hadn’t made the heart grow fonder, especially not of idiotic pranks and Tim’s sense of humor. Tim just smiled, even Damian’s grumpy expression couldn’t wring the fondness from his heart.
The door to the roof opened, but the thud of sturdy boots kept Tim’s heart from leaping from his chest. He didn’t even bother turning around, just drinking in the sour look on Damian’s face, who’d probably thought that he’d be free from Tim’s teasing now that Tim was legally deceased.
“Nice evening for it, huh?” Jason sighed, resting his arms on the ledge beside Tim’s, setting a paper bag between them.
Tim raised a brow. “What’s in the bag?”
Jason smiled crookedly, taking two beer bottles out of the bag. “Well, since I missed your official twenty-first, I thought I’d finally treat you to a drink.”
“You knew I’d be here?” Tim asked with a snort, twisting off the cap with a quiet hiss.
“You’re not the only detective in this family,” Jason retorted. “And I had a feeling. Besides with your fosters being in town, you’d have a ride.”
“Ah, a hunch. Very solid deduction.”
Jason rolled his eyes, lifting his bottle to tip it toward Tim in a toasting motion. “Whatever. If you hadn’t showed up, I would’ve had two, so I still win.”
Tim shook his head, knocking back a long swig.
It was…disgusting. He’d been drinking little bits of champagne at events since he was fourteen, had networked at events with people that forgot his age, and at present had a wine palette to rival some sommeliers. He was no stranger to alcohol, but this beer…it was fucking disgusting.
Jason just laughed, taking joy in watching Tim’s face curl into a disgusted grimace. “Should’ve gotten you a bottle of wine, priss.”
“Or you picked the nastiest beer in Gotham on purpose.” Tim coughed, the aftertaste somehow worse than the actual taste.
“I’m promoting sobriety or some shit like that.” Jason said coyly, taking a long drawn out drink from his own bottle.
“Uh-huh,” Tim snorted. “Sure…”
“Whatever, how’re you holding up in Kansas? Becoming a country boy yet?”
“The sun is miserable, turns out I have a hay allergy, and the nearest city is forty minutes away,” Tim huffed. “But it’s alright. I’m down the road from Ma Kent. I’ve got air conditioning. I’ve charmed the pants off the locals for the most part. And I’m filing pretty much everyone’s taxes now, which helps with the charming.”
In the wake of his ‘death’, Tim had been relocated out to Kansas on a patch of land about a mile away from the Kent family farm. He’d taken the identity of a family friend of the Kents, with no living relatives, that had moved from Metropolis to the country after he was laid off from his work at a financial office, so that he could be close to his support system and have a fresh start. He kept his first name and just used his middle as his last to keep it simple for the Kent’s, whom he saw quite a bit of. As far as faking one’s death and taking up a new identity went, his transition was fairly smooth. It helped that the Kents were so…proactive about helping him out. And Tim wouldn’t complain, having people he knew around was definitely easier on him.
After eight months, Tim was starting to feel like he had a life there, that his roots were taking to the Kansas dirt. His house was small, but comfortable. He had the company of several barn cats that lived on the property that came around every morning for breakfast, and joined him for his walks up the road to get the breakfast Ma Kent insisted on making for him, and to pick up the surplus of fresh eggs. On the weekends he’d spend the days with Ma Kent, canning produce and when that no longer needed to be done, they would just have a cup of coffee and chat about the local politics.
During the week he kept to himself, if anyone asked how he made money, he said he had a remote data entry job, which normally satisfied the curious. In truth, he had the Drake family money to sustain him, with a modest allowance (based on a predicted liberal lifetime budget) added to his new account every month. What wasn’t allotted toward his sustenance went to the various charities the Wayne’s had set up toward the city of Gotham. A good portion was set away to take care of Wesley’s widowed wife, and to compensate for the funeral costs.
It was a quiet life. But after the last year and a half, Tim didn’t mind so much.
He tried another swish of the beer. It was just as gross as the first. “Here, you can have the rest of mine.”
“I don’t want your backwash, kid.”
“There’s not any backwash, I’ve taken two sips, dude.” Tim retorted. “I’d offer it to the pigeons, but I don’t condone animal cruelty.”
“Ha-ha, you’re still a comedic genius over there with the jokes,” Jason said dryly. “How’re things with the boy…thing…”
“Wow, that was really natural there.”
“Thank you, had to get around the urge to gag when discussing your love life.”
Tim shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Things are…fine…Kon’s mostly busy with hero shit, but he comes by to help with yard work and shit, since I can’t stand in the sun for more than two minutes without frying.”
“That’s it?”
“Like I said, he’s busy.” Tim said defensively, his face heating up. “But…we’ve gone out to some local events a couple times. We went to Jon’s high school’s fundraising carnival thing last week together. We’re…not trying to rush things…he’s…sweet. He doesn’t push me. He’s good for me I think.”
Tim’s gaze drifted across the bleachers to find Conner sitting with the rest of his family.
“Good,” Jason said. “If he was being pushy I would have had to do the whole protective big brother gig and that’s a pain.”
“Sure.”
“Don’t get smart with me, kid.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Tim smirked. “But moving on, how’s everything around here? How’re Art and Biz?”
“They’re good. Biz is now pretty much Alfred’s favorite child and has the esteemed permission to use the kitchen.” Jason said. “And Art’s all but recovered. B has been trying to get her to stay at the Manor forever, but she and Biz are with me. We found an apartment and she’s become almost worse than Damian about taking in strays.”
Tim raised his brows.
“I have a cockatiel now, kid, what the fuck even is a cockatiel? I sure as hell don’t know, but I have one.”
Jason shook his head, and took another drink. “Her name’s Eileen. But you already knew that, didn’t you? Nightshade?”
Tim looked away innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He did in fact know exactly what Jason was referring to. The presence under the handle, Nightshade, that had appeared on the servers of Gotham heroes a month after he’d left town, sending intel and leads and new cases their way.
“Sure, I’m probably just imagining the new intel source that practically dumps solved cases on our desks with all but the criminal in handcuffs.” Jason said. “Or that the cadence they use in their writing is so very familiar. Or that this source showed up so soon after your death.”
“Doesn’t prove anything.”
“No. But if it were you, I would have been able to say ‘thanks’ for the help on the extortion case,” Jason shrugged. “Duke says ‘thank you’ by the way. For fixing up his suit.”
“If it were me, I’d say to tell him, ’you’re welcome’.” Tim said, turning around and leaning back against the ledge.
“I’d also say that you misspelled ‘necessary’ twice in that evidence file you sent.”
“And if I were them, I wouldn’t rise to that obvious bait.”
Jason huffed, smiling against the bottle. “The JLA know you’re back in Gotham?”
“I’m not back, just visiting, and no, no they don’t know I’m in Gotham.”
“How’s that? You got a little tracker thingy, don’t you?”
“It’s mainly a vitals monitor, but did you really think it would be that difficult for me to hijack the tracking mechanism?” Tim snorted. “C’mon, Jay…I’m still in Kansas for all they know.”
“And Clark?”
“He…knows, but he can claim ignorance, since Conner flew me over here.” Tim shrugged.
“Huh, and Nightshade? They know that you’re back in the vigilante business?”
“If I was Nightshade, I wouldn’t be breaking my pact to the Justice League. I swore off of vigilante work. I’m not out on the street, and I don’t solve cases. Nightshade is just…a support.” Tim said. “And if I was Nightshade, could you honestly blame me? There would be no way I could just quit everything I’ve ever known just like that. Even for just a year…”
“It would be a damn shame for sure. You’re good at that hero shit.”
“Careful, I think that was grazing compliment territory.”
“Good, I meant it to be a compliment.” Jason said. “You are good. And it’s weird not having you around for patrol, or to bounce theories off of, or to check the math on things.”
“It’s weird not being around to check your math.”
“Easy, kid, my math isn’t that bad. Don’t get cocky just because I’m trying to be nice.” Jason gestured at him with his bottle. “Did you come all the way here to crash the brat’s graduation and shit on me?”
“I bought the brat a gift, don’t worry? I’m not completely inconsiderate,” Tim said, dropping down to rummage through his bag. “And while shitting on you is always a joy, I also came here because needed you to help me with some things.”
“How’d you know I would come up here to find you?”
Tim looked up from the ground. “You brought two bottles too, Jay. Guess we both know each other well enough now to just kind of trust our guts with these things.”
“Guess when you put it that way…”
It was starting to get dark out, making it harder to see the contents of his duffle bag properly. Tim felt around blindly until he found the two envelopes he’d laid carefully at the bottom. They were a little bent out of shape from the trip from Kansas, but they remain mostly unscathed.
“Here.” Tim straightened up and handed them over to Jason.
Jason flipped them over, furrowing his brow, considering their weights and clearly trying to work out in his head what could be in them.
“Alright, kid, I’ll bite,” He said. “What’s in the envelopes?”
“One is Damian’s gift,” Tim explained. “It’s got his name on it.”
“I can see that much.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “It’s the key-card for the Nest. I’m giving it to him, now that he’s gonna be spreading his wings a bit. I can’t use it anymore, so I want someone to get some use out of the place, I worked hard furbishing that place, can’t let it fall into disrepair.”
“Alright.”
“Also, about a year and a half ago, I was in contact with an old friend of mine in the world of academics. I told him about Damian. His interest in zoological studies and how smart he was. She said that if Damian were to contact her that she would consider him for her highly sought after summer internship program. First hand experience, a strenuous course-load, high expectations.”
“Damian would thrive in that.”
“That’s what I thought when I first heard of it. The course is usually reserved for upperclassman in the field of study, but she said that if he was as good as I promised, she could make room for him.” Tim explained. “It was supposed to be a surprise for a birthday, but this works too.”
“It’s perfect. So well thought out.” Jason laughed. “He’ll enjoy it, but it will fill him with annoyance when he thinks about it.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“And the other?”
“It’s a deed, for Drake Manor and the surrounding acreage,” Tim said, pressing his lips together. “I’d like to have it converted into a care facility that Dana can stay at, since her other place got destroyed, and so she can be close to Bruce and the others there.”
He looked out over his shoulder to the bleachers, finding Bruce holding Dana’s arm as she stepped out of them. She was laughing again.
“She’s happy with you guys,” He murmured. “I think it’ll be good for her to have some family close by. She loves people. It’s always been her passion, and I just…I couldn’t be there enough for her on my own. And it’ll be good for Bruce to have someone closer to his age to talk to that isn’t in the hero business. They could both use some good company.”
“I don’t think that’s a bad idea, kid. Might actually be one of your better ones,” Jason said. “Besides, she’s a nice lady. Reminds me of my mom in some ways. The good ways. I wouldn’t mind having her stick closer around.”
Tim nodded. “Thanks for looking out for her.”
“She’s family, ain’t she?” Jason huffed. “Not just gonna leave her out in the cold.”
“I appreciate it nonetheless,” Tim said. “It also has a letter for her. No details about where I am or anything, but just…just that I’m okay. I promised her I’d come home, and…well, this is about the best I can do.”
“Just call me the fucking Pony Express.”
“I’ve got a letter for Bernard too, if you can get that to him.”
“To exes too. You want me to deliver something to your great-aunt Bertha too, kid?”
Tim fixed him with a stern look.
Jason put his hands up, shaking his head. “Fine, continue.”
“The key to my apartment, now in Steph’s name with the monthly payments taken care of for the next twenty-years.” Tim said. “She’ll have noticed that her tuition is covered. And I’ve gotten all her emails. I see them…let her know…”
It ached seeing the name on the messages, knowing that he couldn’t respond to her.
“Will do,” Jason said, noticeably without a snarky retort. “She misses you. I’m not exactly the best replacement for you, funnily enough.”
“She told me that you’ve been hanging out with her more lately. She appreciates it.” Tim smiled softly “Take her out for coffee here and there. Steph…she likes to get those fancy drinks but feels bad about doing it herself without a reason.”
“I think I can manage that.” Jason said, stowing the envelopes into his back pocket.
“I’ve also got something for you too.”
Jason looked a little taken aback, his face breaking from it’s usual mask for the briefest moment. “Aw, kiddo, you shouldn’t have.”
Tim reached into his pocket, and pulled out two quarters, pushing them into Jason’s palm.
“There’s a payphone on the corner of Fifth and Twelfth. Two, two, eight, seven.” Tim said. “Call me. And I’ll answer.”
Jason huffed, smiling to himself as he looked down at the coins in his hand. “Two, two, eight, seven. B-A-T-S. Cute.”
“Thanks.”
Jason stowed the coins away in his pocket,. “Didn’t think I could live without your smart-ass or something?”
Tim smirked wryly. “Maybe you could, but that would be such frivolous existence, don’t you think?”
“Whatever,” Jason scoffed. “C’mere and let me give you a fucking hug before I think about my intimacy issues for too long.”
Jason pulled Tim into a firm hug, holding him there tightly in his arms, as Tim wrapped his arms around Jason in return. There was not hesitation anymore. And that was nice. It felt like a weight was lifted to be able to hug his brother and not wonder if he deserved to.
If it had been a year or so ago, Tim was certain he wouldn’t have been able to make the choice he had, as resolutely and certainly as he had. He’d been so desperate to earn their affection, to be needed. If he’d left then, he would’ve spent the last six months wondering if his family was secretly relieved that he’d left, or if they even really noticed his absence at all. It was strange now to be secure where he had once been so fragile. That wasn’t to say the thoughts didn’t come up in the stray places of his mind, in the quiet of the night, but those thoughts weren’t so overwhelming anymore.
He could be in Kansas. He could be legally dead. He could be brainwashed by an immortal cult leader. He could be broken down to his tiniest most pathetic parts. It didn’t matter. His family…his strange, mismatched, fucked-up, little family…they would still care for him. For whatever reason, they would always care, for whatever was left of him. They were stubborn like that. The only people as stubborn as he was.
Jason didn’t let go, waiting until Tim pulled back instead before he dropped his arms away.
“I never asked, after everything happened,” Tim said, “Since I’m not dead, do you mind telling me what it was that Bruce said that made you so upset back in the Cave? And how did you respond that made him bench you?”
“Ah…that…”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“No…no, it’s alright. Might as well, now that that mess is resolved,” Jason sighed, looking up at the darkening sky. “Um…he said that…I needed to know what my priorities were moving forward, that my focus couldn’t be split.”
“Both…”
“You and Art…” Jason said. “I could focus on keeping you safe and saving you, or I could focus on saving the world, stopping the virus, and…saving Art.”
“Jesus, B.” Tim murmured.
“Yeah, I know what he meant. He was trying to ensure I didn’t burn out fighting a two-front war and become a hinderance to both causes. Both had support toward resolution, if I wanted to help, I couldn’t reasonably help both fully without wearing myself thin trying to fix everything at once.” Jason said, exhaling shakily. “But…y’know, hearing that in that moment, when I felt like I was losing two people that mattered most in the world to me, it sounded like he was asking me to sacrifice one for the other. And I got…upset. He benched me from the search for the Joker, told me to rest and take my time to sort myself out, that I had done enough already and he didn’t expect me to do more.”
“Oh.” Tim opened his eyes again, forcing his body to sit up. “Sounds like Bruce. He means well, but he sucks at being a human and expressing himself.”
“Yeah, well, he’s working on it…and he tries.”
Tim looked up to meet Jason’s eyes. “I just wanted to say…thank you….for being with me this whole time. For having my back. And not giving up on me. I was terrified…of losing my mind, of losing what I felt gave me worth in this family. But you stayed…even when I was at my worst point, and never gave me reason to feel like a burden. I’m grateful. You…are a good brother, Jason. A good person. And I feel like I had a home to go back to because of you…you…showed me the family I’ve been too stubborn to see, that this family goes both ways, between loving and being loved.”
“See, this is why I want you to write my eulogy, kid.” Jason said, shaking his head with a smile and reaching over to ruffle Tim’s hair. “You just pulled that shit out of your ass? Didn’t have it rehearsed or anything? Fucking ridiculous.”
Tim pushed his hand away with half-hearted annoyance. “Jay…”
Jason’s smile faded, until it was just small and soft, almost sad. “I…um…I appreciate all that, kid. Thanks.”
“I mean it.”
“We’re not gonna forget about you, kid. Got it?” Jason said softly. “We’ll figure out some way to see you. As often as we can…or as often as you can tolerate. You’re gonna get sick of us. Death can’t ever keep our family apart for long.”
“Stay here with me for a bit?” Tim asked.
“Sure, why not?” Jason said, clapping Tim on the shoulder. "I’ve got all the time in the world.”
Tim sighed, leaning his elbows on the ledge again.
“You…are you still having the, um, the nightmares?” Jason asked carefully. “Memories?”
“Yeah, some,” Tim murmured. “Not as bad. And I don’t wake up in a pool of blood, so…improvement, I guess.”
He’d normally take a drink of whatever was in his hand as a distraction, but…well, that wasn’t an option. Instead, he just opted to look straight ahead.
The stadium lights had turned on, as the clean-up crew started to come through to sweep out the bleachers of flower petals and concessions litter. The stage was being dismantled and packed away for the next big event. And some poor underclassmen were collapsing the hundreds of folding chairs, stacking them on a cart. Like little worker ants flitting around, unaware of their observation from above.
“The League of Assassins is regrouping. Two factions are forming. One under Thalia and the other behind the…the, um, the kid.” Tim offered up to the silence. “Infighting will distract them for a while, but even a weakened League of Assassins is still dangerous. There’s no documentation of the child, correct? It’s all burned?”
“As soon as the child was relocated, everything was deleted, shredded, and burned.” Jason affirmed. “I don’t know where he is…and, if you don’t know, well, I suppose the job was done well. Did you look?”
Tim nodded, turning his gaze down to his hands.
“You…are you…” Jason sighed. “Are you alright with that? With not knowing?”
“It’s for the best.”
“Didn’t ask that.”
Tim forced himself to take a grounding breath like his new therapist had taught him. “I…I like to know things. The unknown is…not something I’m adept at letting be, even if it should be left alone. Even…even if it’s best that I don’t know. I’m…learning to let things lie…”
“Are you alright?”
“I just said-”
“No, right now, are you alright? Better? I have’t seen you in months…are you…are you alright?”
“I’m…” Tim pressed his lips together, hesitating. It’s Jason. “There’s a lot of me that still feels like shit. Some that I don’t think will ever stop feeling like shit. But…I’m better than I was…and I think…with time…I’ll be alright.”
Tim looked up toward the sky. It was, as it always was in Gotham, washed dark by the pollution of the city lights, so all that he could see was the great expanse of black above him, like he stood beneath a yawning void. He could see so many stars in Kansas. There was no light to hide them. And it changed with the seasons. Shifted their places in the sky. Here, it looked the same as it had that night all those months ago when it had watched him fall, what was supposed to have been the last thing his eyes were to see. It was…comforting in a way. That no matter how much time passed, and how much he changed, that night sky would always be the same. An unblemished, velvet cover across the hours of darkness. It would be the same when he fell, and when he rose again.
“We’re having cake back at the Manor.” Jason said nonchalantly. “It’s chocolate. Biz made it, so it’s gonna be good.”
“You can go.” Tim said, a little crestfallen, if he were forced to admit it, that Jason had changed the subject. “I’ll wait for my ride here.”
“The Kents are joining us. Your ride might be a while.”
“I can’t be seen walking into the Manor, Jay. Kind of defeats the whole ‘being dead thing’.” He made air quotes with his fingers for emphasis.
Jason scoffed. “I’m offended that you think I wouldn’t have some kind of plan before trying to coerce you into a family gathering. Besides,” He grinned. “I’ve done the whole ‘being dead thing’ too. I know how to covertly attend the family events I’ve been peer-pressured into attending.”
Tim started to open his mouth to retort.
“Come on, kid, you can have one night with us. The world’s not gonna end.” He paused. “It won’t end because you spent one night with your family. If the world does end tonight, it’s not gonna be because of that. And anyway, if the world ends, wouldn’t you want to be with us?”
“I’ve ended the world with less.”
“Tim.”
“Are you sure Damian won’t flip his lid about me breaking the rules? Crashing his party?”
“The Demon picked the cake specifically in the hopes it might lure you in.” Jason said smugly. “Not in as many words, but we all know Damian much prefers strawberry. He may flip his lid about the Rick Astley though.”
Tim snorted. “Good.”
“Come on. Your boy thing will be there and I need bait so I don’t have to talk to him all night.” Jason stepped back, beckoning Tim toward the roof access door. “You give an emotional speech over your brother’s corpse one time and suddenly we’re friends.”
“He’s not that bad of a conversationalist-“
“Good, so you talk to him. You love that. I even brought a helmet for you.”
“-you can be nice to him for one night.”
Tim sighed and pressed his lips together, tapping his bottle on the ledge hesitantly.
“Please?” Jason asked, raising his brows expectantly. “They all sent me to get you. They’ll be up my ass if I come home empty handed.”
“They sent you? For me?”
“Family of detectives, go figure,” Jason reminded him with a sly smile. “We all kinda just knew you’d probably show up, so they all kinda decided I’d be the delivery boy. They think we have a special bond or something because we went on a murder spree together.”
Tim snorted.
“Timmy~ It’s getting cold~” Jason coaxed. “And this jacket is for looks not for warmth~”
Tim rolled his eyes, grabbing his bag up from the ground. “Fine.”
“There we go!” Jason whooped. “That’s more like it. Let’s get out of here. Spending too much time around a high school gives me some anxiety.”
“Jay?” Tim stopped short of Jason.
“Hmm?”
“Are you alright?”
Jason seemed to freeze in place, the grin slowly melting from his face.
“Everything…it was a lot for you too.” Tim said. “Are you okay?”
“Better now that it’s over.”
“Jason…”
Jason sighed heavily, crossing his arms across his chest. “Fine, I’m…not…as great as I could be. Just…still a little resentful I suppose, which makes me feel like the worst person alive.”
“Resentful?”
“How I still live with the Pit…and you don’t have to anymore.” He said, leaning back against the roof access door. “I still have the nightmares. I still have to temper my emotions. I can’t…I can’t even access that brunt of what’s happened, I can’t process or feel fully without losing my shit and possibly hurting someone. I…and I can’t blame you, I…I’m not angry at you…but every time I look at you, I can’t help but be betrayed by myself and feel jealous, resentful of you…”
Tim paused for a moment, struggling with a response.
“You could punch me in the face.”
“I’m being serious, kid.”
“Might make you feel better.”
“I’m not going to hit you.” Jason said firmly.
“Character growth, we love to see it.”
Jason closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. “Some things haven’t changed I see. Still a little shit. Art’s gonna be delighted.”
“But for real…maybe you need to lose your shit a little. Demolish a building or something.” Tim said mellowly. “Controlled rage. So not everything is at a boiling point.”
“Not sure B would like me knocking down buildings.” Jason snorted, straightening up.
“B can pull that stick out of his ass.” Tim retorted, closing the distance to the door. “There’s so much abandoned property in Gotham, you’d be doing the city a favor by knocking down the condemned shit.”
Jason smiled slightly. “We’ll see. Come on, let’s go before the little Kryptonian eats all the cake.”
“After you.” Tim gestured to the door.
Jason opened it and started down the stairs. “By the way, you need a haircut, kiddo, it’s getting shaggy.”
“I don’t know. It’s kinda growing on me…” Tim said, running a hand back through the seven months of growth. It was almost as long as it had been when he’d woken up in that office. But this time, he knew who’s hands had touched it, he didn’t shudder at the memories it held. “No pun intended.”
“Hey, maybe it’s time for a new look,” Jason shrugged, continuing down the stairwell. “Just don’t go for a buzz, you don’t have the head shape to pull that off, you’d look like an egg.”
“Thank you for the input, I’ll keep it in mind.” Tim said, following after him.
The door to the rooftop clicked shut behind Tim.
The cameras the next day, when the police would show up to investigate the commencement day hacking, would find a three hour gap of footage missing from the science building, and all the cameras on campus went dark at exactly 8:32 for ninety seconds. No one could figure out where it went. No one could find who did it. Some swear they saw a figure on the roof during the ceremony. But nothing ever came of it. The police interviewed Damian Wayne who, when asked why he thought the hack was done during his graduation walk, was quoted as saying: ‘the jealousy of the inferior manifests in some truly bizarre and pathetic ways’. The story became another unsolved mystery in Gotham’s long history of unsolved mysteries.
If they were to look in the dark recesses of Wayne Manor, in the cave system beneath the house, they would find a seemingly normal polaroid. A photo of Bruce Wayne, surrounded by his kids as Dick shoved a piece of cake into his mouth at Damian Wayne’s graduation night celebration. Behind Dick, one could spot a ghost. Timothy Drake, who had died seven months earlier.
But no one investigating the case would see that photo.
And Timothy Drake would remain in the eyes of the law: dead.
Still, his ghost regularly haunted the halls of Wayne Manor. His voice rattled on the other end of a telephone. His characteristic cadence would appear in speeches given by his family members. His bed would get unmade. Even his seat at the table would be warmed after family gatherings. Some visitors would see a face disappear an upper story window.
His presence remained, invited by those that continually returned to that old house, more tangibly than a spirit.
Undead.