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Prudence Woods stood beside her charge, back straight and shoulders back. The board had complained relentlessly since her appointment, stating that she was not cleared, had no official training, was too small, ect, ect. In reality, it was because she was a girl- wasnt terrifying enough when she glared, arms crossed, from behind Timothy Drake. Despite her glare being strong enough to send a grown man running, she was short, thin and female. She was not the type of bodyguard they wanted, but at the end of the day, they couldn't stop Tim. After all, he was the only Robin that could outstubborn Batman.
Not that any of these fools knew that.
To them, Tim was a helpless, naive young man. Despite His absolute power within the organization, the blind following of the company's workers, they still believed they could change him. Pru thought it was funny. She did love watching Tim tear the sharks to shreds.
The funniest, though, was when they had meetings with other companies-- when his employees, young and diverse, tore contracts to shreds. Argued circles around the competition, found loop whole after loop whole in the various deals and exercised them to the utmost degree. Signing a contract with a Drake was signing your soul to the devil, but the sheep still seemed to think they had the upper hand.
Believed they were dealing with a Wayne.
Tim was not a Wayne. Had been for about 6 months before his emancipation. After his parents' deaths, when Bruce finally decided that it would be better for “the mission” for Tim to live at Wayne manor. No mention about the fake uncle Tim had been “living with” for nearly a year. No care for what Tim wanted.
Needed.
Pru gazed at the desk, her boss finishing his third mug of coffee of the morning.
It wasn't even 9 yet.
Papers littered his desk, three different monitors open at once displaying charts and spreadsheets. The sheer amount of data Tim took in and sorted, absorbing it like a bleeping plant, never ceased to amaze her.
His hand brushed a sign as he set his glass down. The words “Timothy Drake-Wa” inscribed on it. Tam had carefully selected the sign so to cut off before the second part of Tim’s name.
Washington.
He chose that name after Z and Owens’ deaths-- to honor his family. His true family, those who he trusted to watch his back and him theirs. Who laughed and cried together, the four of them holding on as the waves kept trying to drown them. They had lost everything and still they clung to each other, a life rod.
Pru knew that it would be long before they rejoined Z and Owens. The duo was barely staying afloat. When one of them finally went under, the other would follow. It was a truth they’d both accepted.
Every day, he worked at WE, relentlessly sorting files and drawing up deals until the only person still there was the nightly cleaners, long after Tam and Lucious had retired for the night.
Every night, she watched as he went out, desperately praying to save a life, just one more that's all I ask. She watched as he came home, tired, only for the bats to call him back out. She watched as he entered the batcave, tired, and came out exhausted: on the tail end of berating and insults. Forgotten unless anything went wrong, and then it was his fault.
She watched as he came home for 3 restless hours of sleep before getting up and doing it all over again. He was drowning, but so was she, and it was only a matter of time before they ran out of oxygen.
She worked mixed missions, reconnecting with old contacts and hunting down LOA members. Finding pits and destroying them as Tim had taught her to do. Listening for rumors about Ra’s and the surviving factions, keeping track of the light, going where Tim couldn't, tied down as he was by WE. When she had time, she was his bodyguard, traveling where he went and destroying threats to her person.
Though Lucious was loyal to Bruce, his children were Tim’s. Tam worked well over her hours to try and helpTim where she could, and Luke occasionally covered Tim’s patrol when he needed to be elsewhere. Tiffany also looked out for him: more gruff than her siblings, but just as understanding.
The Teen Titans as they knew it was gone: Anita, Greta and Cissie retired. Slo-Bo was dead. Kon and Cassie had distanced themselves from Tim over time, and Bart was struggling with Wally’s death. He may have returned, but the city was still a mess in his absence.
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Klarion wondered if the bats knew what they had. The dedication Tim was giving them, the price he will pay. Has paid. Is paying.
He wondered how long it would take them to realize. Wandered with devious glee how they would cope when they would lose billions of dollars when the company separated themselves from the Wayne’s name. When Tiffany and Tamara would shoulder the company and Luke would head R&D. How they would react when Ra’s came back, no longer restrained by Tim. When the gangs all over the world would rise because without Tim, who would keep them in check?
There were hundreds of mercenaries who owed Tim their lives, who had sworn to follow his rules on penalty of death, would be free to ravage the earth.
When the superheroes everywhere would die, because there was no guy in the chair backing them up.
No strategist coming up with plans, no manipulator pulling string no one could see, deciding who would live and who would die.
He watched Pru, and smiled maniacally as he thought of what the future without Tim would be.
He let out a bark of laughter, shaking her head. No, he would follow them. The small band that had formed together, somewhere in the Iraqi desert, born of blood and suffering. The quartet that would soon be reunited, the cords of fate pulling them together.
He waited, smiling in the shadows.
It wouldn't be long now.