Chapter Text
Chapter 21: Tim Drake IV
“Nice lab you’ve got here,” was the first thing that Peter said when he entered the large, well-stocked lab located in the Batcave.
Peter had requested access to the lab during their discussion about the continuation of his vigilante career in Tim’s room. Tim was glad for Peter’s company since he was banned from looking at screens which meant no phones, laptops or televisions. He could have died of boredom. Tim did spend time with the others but they were not always available. They were either busy with vigilant work or busy with school or busy with their day job or busy with anything, really. Bruce was the most annoying person though. He complained to Tim about the frustratingly slow progress he was making but refused, deflected, and evaded every single attempt from Tim to find out what was going on. Zero updates. Literally. All the things that Tim knew were probably seriously out of date by now. He knows about the plans that Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy were making to murder Joker, knows that there was an unknown hacker that could not be traced because the used laptop was discarded in a random dumpster, and knows that there was something extremely fishy about the cause of the mass breakout.
Today, Tim was elated. The recommended forty-eight hours of no-looking-at-screens time after a concussion was finally up. He would have jumped straight into working but he was more interested in the web fluids that Peter was going to make and he had already promised that he would be there, so here they are. It was about nine in the morning.
Tim was lucky that the pathways inside the lab were wide, since he was stuck in a wheelchair. Yes, he can walk. Walking was recommended to help with breathing and clearing of mucus from the lungs but he was strictly forbidden from overdoing it lest he exacerbate his injuries. Which, rude. He was not stupid; he knows his limits.
The lab was large and mostly white. White and sparkling clean tiled floor. White walls. White ceiling. White and bright fluorescent lighting. White lab benches. Basically, the colour white rules everything in the lab.
Peter walked around the lab, eyes glinting with interest as he inspected the place and noted roughly where everything was kept.
“Oh, a fire extinguisher. We always have them near the door by the back of the lab in school,” Peter remarked. The fire extinguisher was located at the very back of the lab, besides some science related posters which were blue-tacked to the wall.
“It’s just for show,” Tim said casually, “I’ve never needed to use it before.”
“Just in case, you know,” Peter said, taking the fire extinguisher down from the J-bracket and examining it carefully, “Hmm, it hasn’t expired yet. Do you check and replace it often?”
“No, I don’t,” Tim replied, frowning a little, “I don’t recall doing that. In fact, I’ve never given a single thought to it.”
“Ooh, a mystery,” Peter said, grinning, “Are you going to solve it?”
“Later,” Tim said, “Go make your web fluids.”
Peter rolled his eyes, huffing, “So bossy.” Nevertheless, he still went and got himself ready. He slipped into one of the white lab coats first, clasping the round buttons together, his eyebrows furrowing as he concentrated on the task at hand. After that, Peter tugged a pair of blue latex gloves out of a box, wearing it quickly.
Since Tim was also participating, he took a pair too. He pulled the rubbery material taut before letting go, letting out a short burst of laughter at the startled look on Peter’s face at the sudden, loud snap of the glove slapping against his wrist.
“Hey!” Peter squawked indignantly, “That was not cool.”
“Oh god,” Tim snorted with laughter, “Your face… that was priceless.”
Peter glared at him, scowling, “I’ll have you know that messing with me is a really bad idea.”
“What are you going to do then?” Tim challenged. He smirked as he purposely snapped the other glove when he wore it. Peter’s glare intensified.
“I’ll stick you to the ceiling,” Peter threatened as he pulled on the lab goggles, effectively dampening his threat level. Tim put his on too.
“What will I be helping with?” Tim asked, redirecting the topic.
Peter’s eyebrows scrunched up, “I’ll tell you when it comes. Mostly though, you’ll just be observing and keeping me company. You can ask me questions too.”
“Roger that,” Tim said, saluting playfully.
Peter rolled his eyes, smiling simultaneously. He walked briskly over to the storage cabinets, where various apparatus and equipment are stored, both inside and on the surface of the cabinets.
“What are you getting?” Tim asked.
“Oh uh, test tubes, boiling tubes, a flask and the test tube rack, like duh. And uh, let’s see,” Peter said. He started to bring the necessary items over to the lab bench he had chosen, “And um, salicylic acid…”
“Those are kept somewhere over there,” Tim said, pointing.
“Thanks,” Peter said, smiling.
“So, salicylic acid, toluene, methanol, carbon tetrachloride, potassium carbonate, and ethyl acetate,” Tim summarised afterwards, counting with his fingers, “Damn. All this and you get webbing with such high tensile strength. Has anyone ever told you that you’re a freakishly amazing genius, Peter?”
“Yep, Mr Stark did,” Peter replied, then, most likely realising what he had just said, his eyes widened and he stiffened.
“Someone from back home?” Tim asked softly.
“Y-yeah,” Peter whispered, his eyes glassy, “He’s my mentor. He– uh, I don't want to talk about this.” Tim had never seen someone shut down at such speed. Lightning fast. He took note in his mind: Mr Stark, mentor to Peter. Important. Something presumingly bad happened to him (gauged from Peter’s reaction).
“Hey, it’s ok Peter. I won’t force you to talk about stuff until you’re ready,” Tim said genuinely, holding his hands out placatingly.
Peter blinked, one eyebrow shot up and he smiled tentatively at him, “Thanks man.”
Tim shrugged, acting nonchalant, “So, are you going to show me or not?”
He felt relieved when Peter relaxed and broke into a wide grin, “Here’s how it goes…”
0o0
Tim leaned against the backrest of his wheelchair, watching as Peter filled up the cartridge in his web-shooters with the web fluids and stored the remaining in those empty pill bottles that Tim had provided.
“Hey Tim, do you have any of those labelling stickers?” Peter asked, setting the final bottle down. There were a total of three bottles filled with the web fluids.
“Sorry no. I do have some sticky notepads kept in there though,” Tim said, pointing at a drawer.
“It’s ok,” Peter said, taking out a yellow sticky notepad and a blue ballpoint pen, “This is good enough.”
Tim watched as Peter stuck the written notes onto each bottle carefully, smoothing the paper over with his thumb and making sure that it stuck firmly to the vertical surfaces of the bottles.
“Alright-ty,” Peter said, “Where do I keep these?”
“Wherever you want,” Tim replied, “Just make sure you remember where you put it though.”
Peter nodded and put the bottles of web fluids into one of the upper cabinets. He then began to clean up the lab equipment and apparatus that he had used. In the meantime, Tim peeled the gloves off and threw them into the bin. He went to wash his hands with soap, doing the standard seven step hand washing technique before rinsing his hands thoroughly with water.
“Give me your goggles, Tim,” Peter said from his left suddenly, holding his hand out. Tim did not jump, thank you very much.
“Thanks Pete’,” Tim said with a smile.
0o0
Tim had his laptop in front of him; a better and modified version than those models engineered at Wayne Enterprise. Peter was beside him, eyebrows furrowed up as he worked on his Spiderman suit design. On the A4 sized paper, was a sketch of a suit. Like Jason, he had a full face mask, though Peter’s eye lenses were larger. Black lines mimicking spider webs covered the entire suit. The main colours are red, blue and black. Right now, Peter was jotting down the technology that he would like to integrate into his suit.
“How about you add a utility belt?” Tim suggested, eyes skimming over the most recent case file.
“I don’t need one,” Peter replied.
“Sure you do. It could keep a bunch of things,” Tim said, “For me, I keep a rebreather, a gas mask, throwing disks, my bo staff, smoke bombs, flash grenades, a grappling gun, a backup comm, antidotes, a mini first aid kit, a lockpick, an EMP gun, tracers, ropes and yep, I think that’s all. Point is, it’s really helpful. And useful.”
Peter gawked.
“What?” Tim asked, puzzled.
“Nothing,” Peter mumbled and he turned back to his work.
A minute passed before Tim finally asked, “Are you adding it?”
“Maybe,” Peter said, “I mean, the tracers and the first aid kit sounds good.”
“And the antidotes for Fear toxin and Joker gas,” Tim added, “And all the gadgets I’ve mentioned.”
“Not my style,” Peter said, shrugging.
“Eh, fine,” Tim said, “You should probably just change it to a small pouch or something, with small columns to accommodate the antidote vials.”
Peter nodded thoughtfully, “Yep, I’ll do just that. Thanks Tim.”
“You’re welcome,” Tim replied, smiling. He went back to the case file he was reading. Due to the recent Mass Arkham breakout, other cases that were less urgent and required detective skills had piled up. Nobody cares about murders, frauds, drug trades, money laundering and bribery compared to the fact that a ton of dangerous rogues are running freely around Gotham. There was a total count of twenty six cases.
He scrutinised the photographs of the crime scenes for the murder of Linda Breyerson. He scribbled notes and ran background checks digitally on the suspects. He double checked their alibis and possible motives. He ran a background check on the victim to get an idea of her life such as her relationships, her personality and her connections with the suspects. He organised everything he had and soon, the case was closed. He created an email and attached all the necessary evidence and files before sending them specifically to Commissioner Gordon and Detective Montoya. Of all the cops, Tim trusts these two the most.
“What’re you doing?” Peter asked, craning to better see his laptop screen.
“Solving GCPD cases,” Tim replied.
“Whoa,” Peter said, bewildered, “That’s included in vigilante work?”
“For me, yes. I’m a detective,” Tim said, tapping the side of his head lightly, “Don’t worry though, this isn’t a compulsory section of your job description.”
Peter raised an eyebrow, “Isn’t that the job of the cops?”
“Essentially yes, but we’ve got too many corrupt cops here in Gotham and it’s hard to weed them out,” Tim replied, wrinkling his nose a little.
“Can’t you weed them out?” Peter asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.
“Dude, they literally make up the entire system,” Tim said, “And like, they take both the clean money and the dirty money. Why wouldn’t they?”
“You mean you pay them to be clean and someone else pays them to be dirty and they do both?” Peter said, shocked.
“Yep, the corruption is too entrenched to be fixed so we help in other ways,” Tim explained, “Wayne Enterprise has many programmes running with that exact goal and we also fund charity and shelters and whatnot.”
“Oh,” Peter nodded in understanding, before saying earnestly, “Thank you Tim.” For some reason, Tim heard more than the ‘thank you’ for answering Peter's question. No. This ‘thank you’ runs further and deeper. Peter was thanking him for everything that he was doing for the people living in this city, in Gotham. He was thanking him for being his brother and friend and thanking him for well... everything.
Tim smiled, feeling warmth bloom inside him from hearing those words, “Yeah. You’re welcome.” Thank you Peter.
0o0
By the time dinner came, Tim had closed fourteen cases.