Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Timothy Jackson Drake despised galas, thank you very much. They were boring, and a waste. Of what? Everything. Time, effort, socialization, anything. There wasn’t a single thing he liked at these stupid galas. He didn't much care for the food, or the old ladies who insisted on pinching his cheeks. He was ten years old and much preferred his time spent following Batman and Robin around Gotham. Well, the second Robin. Dick Grayson had retired from Robin right after Tim figured it out almost two years ago. Glancing around the fancy ballroom, Tim admits that this gala had potential to be less awful. Afterall, this gala was being hosted by the Waynes. Which meant a chance to see his heroes up close.

"Timothy, make yourself useful and go stand with your father. The man he’s talking to prefers to sponsor family run businesses.” His mother instructs. Tim suppresses a sigh before walking over to his father. Time to act as if he has no idea what the adults are talking about, because according to his parents, ‘no one likes a know it all’. Standing next to his father, Tim slowly starts to let his mind drift as he plans his next week of following Batman and Robin. Monday should start them back on patrol pattern 3B, which was one of Tim’s favorites. It was also one of the easier routes to follow. Especially since the last time he followed them, they were on pattern 2A. A route that he didn’t always follow. 2A was one of the few patrol routes that Tim would rather sit and try to get pictures from a distance rather than actually follow his heroes. It was-

“Timothy!” His father snaps. Tim blinks, glancing up at his father and wincing apologetically at the look on his face.

“Sorry.” He apologizes, eyebrows furrowing slightly at the lack of people around his father.

“Apologies don’t cut it, son. It’s time for dinner and Mr. Wayne’s speech. You’ve already embarrassed your mother and I once tonight. Don’t make it twice.” He says sharply, turning on his heel and walking swiftly towards the table. Tim follows behind quickly, but still lags behind because his father’s legs are much longer than his own. Taking the seat next to his mother, Tim frowns at the plate in front of him. It looked pretty, but there was no way he could eat the assortment of shellfish. The last time he’d tried a bite of shrimp, he ended up with hives and a swollen throat. Luckily, Mrs. Mac was at the house at the time.

“Um, mother? I can’t eat this.” Tim says quietly. He tries (and fails) not to flinch at the look his mother gives him.

“Timothy Jackson Drake, I cannot believe you are acting this way!” She chastises him quietly. Tim frowns.

“But mother, I really can’t-”

“No. I don’t know where this sudden pickiness came from, but you’re going to eat every last bite on your plate or so help me Timothy, your father will deal with you.” She practically hisses, the anger clear on her face. Tim takes a deep breath. Maybe he’d grown out of the allergy? That was something that was completely possible, he’d heard of it before. Though, he wasn’t sure if one year was long enough to grow out of an allergy. Staring at the shellfish, he tries to block out the heated glare from his mother. Picking up his fork with a shaky hand, he takes a large bite of shrimp. His mother’s glare quickly disappears as she turns to talk to his father. The shellfish doesn’t taste bad, but he’s still terrified. Overly aware of the possibility of upsetting his father hanging over his head, Tim takes another bite. And another. Not even five minutes after he starts eating, Mr. Wayne (Batman!) calls the crowd to attention. Right as Tim’s face starts to itch. And breathing starts to get difficult. He coughs slightly, flinching back from his mother’s glare.

“Mother.” He says quietly, trying to get her attention.

“Timothy, stop talking. It’s rude.” She snaps. He feels heat flood his face and tries not to panic at the thought that the hives aren’t far behind. He didn’t want to disrupt Batman’s- Mr. Wayne’s- speech. He didn’t want to upset his parents, but he really did feel off. Maybe a year wasn’t long enough to grow out of his allergy. The tightness in his chest pushes Tim into a slight panic. He didn’t want to die at a stupid gala that he didn’t want to come to anyway. And he definitely didn’t want to die because of shrimp!

“Mother, please, I can’t-” He tries to say again. This time he turns to look at her face, but he quickly wishes he didn’t as her face morphs into one of horror. She shrieks and jumps out of her chair, moving to put his father between them.

“My god!” his father exclaims, also standing and backing away from him. Tim glances away from his parents, panic swelling in his chest as he realizes everyone was looking at him. Everyone at the gala. Including Mr. Wayne. If breathing was difficult before, it was suddenly impossible. Gasping with his mouth wide open does nothing, and before he can try to find a solution, he gives in to the black spots dancing across his vision.

---

An annoying beeping pulls Tim out of one of the best dreams he’d had in a while. He huffs and reaches a hand up to find whatever it was that was making his nose itch, but a hand intercepts his.

“You can’t mess with that, buddy.” A soft voice says. Tim drops his hand and his eyes immediately open, panic rushing through him. That wasn’t Mrs. Mac. Or either of his parents. The beeping quickens and Tim throws his hands over his ears and clenches his eyes shut once again, the suddenly loud and quick beeps making him want to crumble and hide. And he’d been sleeping so good, too.

“Tim? Buddy, it’s okay. You’re safe kiddo. Everything’s okay.” The voice says again, and vaguely Tim realizes that he recognizes it. Doing his best to slow his breathing, he feels his shoulders relax as the beeping slows down and gets quieter once again. He lets his hands fall off his ears before he cautiously opens his eyes, eyebrows furrowing at the face in front of him.

“Mr. Wayne?” He says, wincing slightly at the scratchy feeling in his throat. Mr. Wayne nods.

“Yeah, buddy. But you can call me Bruce.” He says, smiling softly. Tim frowns and glances around the white room. It was most definitely a hospital room, but why was he in a hospital room with Bruce Wayne?

“Am I dead?” He asks, flinching at the sudden laughter from across the room. Tim turns, eyes widening at the sight of Jason Todd- Robin- sitting in a chair.

“Jason-” Mr. Wayne starts, but the other boy cuts him off.

“Come on B, it’s funny. Kid has a sense of humor. Nice to meet ya kiddo, I’m Jason.” Jason says, standing and walking towards the bed. Tim nods slowly, still confused.

“I- apologize, but I’m not-” Tim pauses, trying to organize his thoughts. “Why are you here?” Mr. Wayne’s face hardens slightly and Tim winces. He shouldn’t have asked, he should’ve just stayed quiet and out of the way and now Mr. Wayne- Batman- was going to be mad at him and-

“Hey, take a breath Timbo.” Jason says softly, perching on the edge of his bed. “You had an allergic reaction at the gala last night-”

“Last night!”

“Yeah. It was really bad buddy, and you didn’t have an epipen or anything. So you had to come to the hospital, but your parents-” Jason pauses, frowning. “Anyway, B and I volunteered to come with you.” Tim’s shoulders fall as he shrinks in on himself.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a bother, I would’ve been okay by myself.” He says quietly. Batman and Robin had went with him to the hospital. Did that mean they skipped patrol? What if all of the Rogues broke out of Arkham because Batman and Robin were too busy watching some stupid kid?

“Tim, you are not a bother.” Mr. Wayne says firmly. “Your parents had to leave for business, and we didn’t want you to wake up alone.” Tim frowns.

“Why?” He asks. Mr. Wayne sighs.

“I’m not sure. They mentioned a new dig site-”

“No. Why didn’t you want me to wake up alone? That’s how most people wake up, right?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed. Mr. Wayne frowns.

“Tim, you’re in a hospital after having a medical emergency. No one should ever wake up alone after something like that.” He says. Tim still sighs.

“I’m still really sorry for taking up your time. I should’ve thought of a way to make it look like I ate the shrimp instead of actually eating it.” Tim says, mind racing with a million different things he could’ve done, instead of eating the shrimp and taking up Batman and Robin’s time. Jason frowns.

“Do you- Kid, did you know that you were allergic to shrimp?” He asks incredulously. Tim winces.

“Tim, buddy, can you tell me why you ate something you were allergic to even though you didn’t have an epipen?” Mr. Wayne asks, a slight edge in his otherwise soft voice. Tim recognized it. It was the voice he’d heard Batman use with the bruised kids in Crime Alley. But Tim wasn’t hurt, not anymore. So why was he acting like that?

“I- Mother told me to.” He says, immediately flinching back at the furious expression on Mr. Wayne’s face. “I’m sorry.”

“Tim, you have nothing to be sorry for. Your mother-” He starts, but Tim interrupts him.

“It wasn’t her fault! Her and dad weren’t around when I had a reaction last time, just Mrs. Mac. Mom just thought I was being picky last night and trying to cause a scene and I didn’t want to cause any more problems so I thought maybe I’d grown out of the allergy cause I read that that can happen sometimes and so I thought I could try and eat it and last time it wasn’t this bad so- I’m sorry.” Tim stops rambling, instead choosing to pick up the blanket and squeeze it tightly. He wouldn’t cry- he was ten years old for crying out loud! Practically an adult.

“Tim, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.” Mr. Wayne tries to say again, but Tim just shakes his head. He made a mistake, it was all his fault, and now Mr. Wayne was mad at him and his parents and-

“How’d you like to have a sleepover, Timbo?” Jason asks suddenly, yanking Tim from his thoughts. Tim freezes and blinks at him. Robin was asking him to…hang out? Why?

“What?” He asks, eyes wide. Jason shrugs.

“You seem like a cool enough kid. And you probably shouldn’t be alone tonight after an allergic reaction like that.” He says. Excitement shoots through him, until he realizes- he can’t. What’re the odds that Batman and Robin go on patrol if they have some lame kid staying at their house? He can’t risk Gotham exploding because he wants to be selfish and have a sleepover.

“Oh. Uh, well, I probably shouldn’t-” He starts to say, but Mr. Wayne shakes his head.

“Nonsense. It’s just one night, Tim. And I doubt the doctors will let you leave unless they know you’ll be monitored at least one more night. I’m sure we could even convince Alfred to let you boys order pizza.” He says, and Tim feels his resolve weakening. He knew he’d hate himself for it later (it was already creeping up), but it was also nice not being alone. Even if they were only choosing to be around him because they felt sorry for him. Pretending that someone cares about you feels nicer than being alone.

“Just one night.” Tim finally says, his voice quiet. Jason cheers and immediately launches into a rant of all of the movies they could watch. It was just a temporary arrangement. Surely it wouldn’t hurt anything.

Chapter Text

Living in a town like Gotham, you have to be prepared for disasters to happen. That was Tim’s motto, anyway. After all, there were enough Rogues in Gotham that Batman could have an entire team helping him, and he’d still have some Rogues left over. There were many Rogues that just operated at night, like Batman. And there were some Rogues that had specific areas of the city that they would target. Making them unlikely to hit somewhere like, say, a private school? Then, there were other Rogues. Rogues who didn’t care where or when they striked. Which was unfortunate for Tim, because he really did study hard for his math test. But after today, he was certain the teacher would just give everyone an ‘A’.

“Teenagers have such various reactions when it comes to fear. You are not adults, yet you are no longer really children.” Scarecrow rambles, gesturing widely. Tim shrinks back against the wall of the classroom, hoping Scarecrow wouldn’t notice him. He knew he was much smaller than his classmates (since he was the only ten year old in the seventh grade), and he really didn’t want to upset the man. Especially since he’d been playing around with a nasty looking syringe since walking into the room. Tim wasn’t brave enough to willingly face fear toxin, and he was okay with that. He knew that if he could avoid being dosed a little longer, Jason would show up. The middle school and high school buildings of Gotham Academy were right next to each other. There was no way Jason hadn’t heard about the Scarecrow attack. Not that Tim expected the older boy to come just for him, but he was Robin. And they’d had that one sleepover, so maybe Jason cared about him just a little bit. Plus the older boy was a hero. And Tim’s class really needed a hero at the moment.

“Hello? What have we here?” Scarecrow’s amused voice is suddenly right in front of him, and Tim feels his stomach drop. His parents would be so mad at him if he got doused with fear toxin.

“I’m Timothy, Mr. Scarecrow sir.” Tim says, thankful his voice wasn’t shaking as badly as he’d expected it to. The Rogue laughs, throwing his head back in mirth.

“Well, Timothy, what is a little boy like you doing here? Visiting a sibling, perhaps?” He asks, sounding genuinely curious. Tim shakes his head, wanting nothing more than to sink back in the shadows and disappear. He was usually so good at not being noticed. Why was today the day he was noticed?

“I’m a student here, sir.” He says, wishing the teacher would do something. He knew she was probably scared too, but he didn’t want to talk to Scarecrow anymore. And he knew he was supposed to be mature, but he just kind of wanted to cry right now.

“Interesting. Your mind is obviously more developed than most children your age. But you’re clearly not on the same emotional level as your classmates. That leaves you in an interesting position, Timothy. Do you know what that means?” The man asks, tilting his head to the side. The breath catches in Tim’s throat as his eyes catch the glint of the needle on the syringe in Scarecrow’s hand. Tim shakes his head and tries to back up, but Scarecrow’s goons rush forward and grab him, holding him still. Tim thrashes around, shaking his head.

“No. No, please, don’t.” He pleads, hoping word doesn’t get back to his father. He would be disappointed that Tim was acting like such a baby, but he couldn’t help it. He was scared. Really, really scared.

“Don’t worry. This will only sting a little.” Scarecrow says, stabbing the needle into his neck. Tim inhales sharply, hissing at the slight pinch. “It should start working quite quickly, Timothy. Please be sure to express your fear. Don’t try and hide it.” Scarecrow’s voice fades in and out as Tim looks around him. He blinks once and he’s still in his math class, surrounded by his classmates. He blinks again and he’s in his house. Alone. Tim frowns. This wasn’t scary. This was-

“Timothy Jackson Drake.” His father snaps, and Tim whirls around, eyes wide. He didn’t realize his parents were coming back today. He left a mess in the sitting room-

“I-” He starts to say, but stops as his dad moves towards him. Tim clenches his fists, trying hard not to wince as his dad gets in his face.

“I am beyond disappointed in you, Timothy. How could you do something so foolish? I thought you were better than this, Timothy. I thought you were a man now.” His father rambles at him, the anger clear on his face. Tim shakes his head, trying to put the pieces together. Why was his father so mad? Surely this wasn’t just about the homework on the floor in the sitting room, was it?

“Timothy! Look at your father when he’s speaking to you, dear.” His mother snaps. Tim blinks.

“But I-” He starts to say, but stops at the glare from his father.

“Don’t sit there and play stupid with me, boy. Batman himself told me everything.” He says, and Tim’s mouth goes dry.

“B-batman?” He stutters, struggling to catch his breath. Had Batman actually caught him following him and Robin? Did he hate him now? Was he mad at him too?

“Yes, Batman. Apparently you’ve been stalking Batman and Robin. They’re pressing charges, you know.” His father says, matter-of-factly.

“What?” Tim breathes out, unable to stop his hands from shaking.

“Batman and Robin. They’re pressing charges and there’s no way for your mother or I to fix this without it reflecting poorly on us. So you’ve left us no choice.” His father says, shaking his head. He holds his hand out and Tim’s mother grabs it.

“Sorry darling, but you understand, right?” She asks. Tim shakes his head.

“Understand what?” He asks, looking between his parents.

“We’re giving you up, of course. You’ve sullied your own name. No need to keep you around and let you ruin ours as well. After all, who wants to be connected to someone who stalked Batman and Robin? Especially someone who was caught, and has no other real purpose.” His mother says, tutting slightly. “Stop the tears, Timothy. It’s not a good look for you.” She adds before turning away from him.

“Wait, no! Mother, Father, please don’t leave! Come back!” He yells, rushing towards them. He trips on air and lands roughly on his knees. Looking back up, he realizes they’re gone. “No. No, no, please!” Scrambling to his feet, Tim looks around frantically. But it was no use. He was all alone again. And this time, it was for forever.

“Don’t worry, Timothy.” Batman’s gravelly voice says. Tim relaxes slightly until he turns and sees Batman. And the handcuffs in his hands.

“What- I’m so sorry Mr. Batman, sir, please-” He says, backing up and holding his hands up in surrender.

“It’s to help you, Timothy. Not hurt you.” Batman says firmly. Tim shakes his head, hands shaking as the handcuffs in Batman’s hands flicker and change into an orange jumpsuit with the words ‘Arkham Asylum’ printed clearly.

“I don’t wanna go to Arkham, please! Please, I’m sorry. Please don’t make me go there. Please don’t make me be alone! I’m sorry!” Tim cries, continuing to back up until he feels something solid behind him. He slides down the wall and pulls his knees close, hiding his face in them. “Please, please Batman, please don’t send me away. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Just a pinch, Tim.” Batman says. There’s a light pinch, and Tim blinks. His house fades away, back into his classroom. He blinks again, and realizes all of his classmates are gone. Only Batman and Robin remain. He blinks again, waiting for the two to disappear, but they don’t. He takes a few grounding breaths, trying to get his heart to stop going so fast.

“What happened?” Tim finally asks, frowning when he realizes his throat is scratchy. Batman glances back at Robin (Jason) who steps forward and kneels in front of him.

“Well kid, ya got a serious dose of fear serum. Did you remember that?” He asks. Tim nods slowly, remembering his parents giving him up. Hating him. Batman wanting to take him to Arkham.

“Did I-” Tim coughs, then sighs. “Were my classmates in here when I was saying things and screaming?” He asks, terrified of the answer.

“They were escorted out right before you started crying.” Robin says gently. Tim frowns, feeling his entire face heat up.

“I apologize for causing a scene.” He says, keeping his head ducked down. Why did this have to happen to him? Why couldn’t he just keep his emotions inside? He was usually much better at that.

“Hey, no, don’t apologize kid. You can’t help it with fear serum. Trust me.” Robin says, giving him a smile. Tim purses his lips, but nods. Robin was just trying to be nice to him. He didn’t want to make the older boy mad, cause then he might leave. And Tim wasn’t ready to be alone again.

“Do you have a way to contact your parents?” Batman asks, and Tim jumps slightly. He’d almost forgotten the man was in the room. The question registers, and Tim frowns.

“No? Why would I need to call my parents? It’s only second hour.” He says. Robin snorts.

“You really think school’s gonna stay open after a Scarecrow attack?” He asks. Tim frowns.

“Was someone hurt?” He asks.

“Um. Kid, fear serum? You? I thought we’ve been through that.” Robin says. Tim shakes his head.

“But I’m fine. Why would they close school for one student getting dosed? It’s fine.” He says. Robin glances back at Batman before letting out a long sigh.

“Okay. We’re not unpacking that right now, but your parents? You got a way to call them to come pick you up?” He asks. Tim thinks back to the note that had been on the fridge for the past two days. The one from Mrs. Mac saying that she wouldn’t be in this week because she had to go out of town. Then he remembers the last time Mr. Wayne had known that Tim’s parents weren’t in town. And how he let Tim stay for a sleepover. And how he talked to Tim just how he talked to the bruised kids in Crime Alley.

“They’re working, so I’ll have to call Mrs. Mac instead.” Tim finally says. “I have a phone in my backpack.” Robin grabs his backpack and passes it to him.

“Mind if we stay here while you call? Just to make sure someone picks up.” Robin asks. Tim shakes his head.

“That’s fine.” He says, pulling out his phone and calling the landline at his house. “Hello? Yes, Mrs. Mac. I- I’m fine. Uh huh. Mmhmm. Yes. Could you come pick me up, please? Thank you. Yes, I’ll wait outside. Thank you. Bye.” Tim hangs up his phone and looks up at Robin, hoping that he and Batman believed him. “Guess I’ll go wait outside now. Thank you very much for your help.” Tim says, quickly standing, stumbling slightly as he rushes out of the classroom.

---

Walking towards the bus stop the next street over, Tim tries to keep his head down. He’d thrown a hoodie over his uniform so that he could get away from the school easier. Not like the school cared anyway. By the time Tim walked outside, all of the other students and most of the faculty were gone. He couldn’t really blame them, though. He was just ready to be home, too. The sound of a car slowing down makes him shift farther away from the road. It would be just his luck to get kidnapped right before making it to the bus stop.

“Timmy?” A familiar voice calls. Tim freezes and turns towards the car, waving awkwardly at Jason who was half hanging out of the car window.

“Hello Jason.” Tim says, wishing he could just melt into a puddle. He should’ve thought of the possibility of Jason and Mr. Wayne going this way to get home. They likely had to leave the school as Jason and Mr. Wayne instead of Batman and Robin. It only made sense that they’d leave in a normal car and go a normal route-

“Where are you going, man?” Jason asks, frowning.

“I’m heading to the bus stop. My parents and Mrs. Mac are indisposed.” Tim says, hoping that Jason will just drop it. The older boy pulls himself back into the car, and for a moment, Tim thinks he’s home free. Just as he starts to walk again, Jason’s car door is thrown open and he’s jogging over to him.

“Why don’t we give you a ride home? We’re neighbors, and I’d really hate for you to walk home after all of that drama at the school.” Jason says.

“It’s fine, it didn’t really affect me much.” Tim says, mentally daring Jason to challenge his statement. Jason shrugs, but his eye twitches.

“Even if it didn’t affect you, I don’t think Bruce’ll let you walk home. Not when your house is so close to ours. C’mon Timmy, it’s just a ride home.” Jason says. Tim sighs, but follows the older boy back over to the car. Jason slides into the front seat, a wide grin on his face.

“Hello again Tim. How are you doing, buddy?” Mr. Wayne asks, looking back at him. Tim resists the urge to shrug, since it wouldn’t be polite.

“Hello Mr. Wayne, I’m fine. How are you?” Tim asks. Mr. Wayne chuckles, before pulling the car away from the curb.

“I’m just fine, Tim. And I told you, you can call me Bruce, it’s fine. So are you coming over to the manor?” He asks. Tim’s eyes widen, but before he can decline, Jason speaks up.

“That’s a great idea, B! We could have another sleepover.” The older boy says. “I’ve gotta reclaim my honor in Mario Kart, after all.” He says. Tim frowns.

“It’s a school night, though. I’m not sure-” He tries to say, but Jason interrupts.

“And school will be canceled tomorrow because of the attack today. They’ll give us the three day weekend and then make us come back on Monday. Trust me.” He says.

“Incoming message from Gotham Academy. Would you like to hear it?” A robotic voice asks.

“Yes.” Mr. Wayne says.

“Attention Gotham Academy families, all campuses will be closed on Friday due to an incident at the Middle School. No students or faculty were seriously injured. Classes will resume on Monday.” The voice reads out. Tim frowns, leaning back in his seat.

“Told ya so.” Jason says, grinning. He makes eye contact with him, and his smile fades. “If you really don’t want to stay over-” He starts to say, but Tim cuts him off. It’s not that he didn’t want to stay, because he did. He really did. After all, it wasn’t every day that an actual superhero wanted to hang out and play video games with him. It was just-

“I don’t want to be a bother.” Tim says plainly. A look of understanding flashes across Jason’s face before he shakes his head.

“You’re not a bother, kid. Especially if I’m the one who invited you. I want to hang out with you. Plus, you didn’t get to try any of Alfred’s cooking last time. I guarantee you, that alone would make it worth it.” He says. Tim glances at Mr. Wayne in the rearview mirror. The man’s frown quickly switches to a smile.

“If you want to stay, Tim, I’d be fine with that. We can even stop by your house to get any essentials you may need.” He offers. Tim glances at Jason who just smiles at him.

“Up to you, Timbit.” He says. Tim thinks about how much he really doesn’t want to be a bother, but then he remembers the things he saw with the fear serum. And how badly he doesn’t want to be alone tonight. And how nice it feels to be seen, and to kind of be wanted. Even if the invitation is still just coming from pity, Tim can pretend that they want him to be there. And so, he nods.

---

Sitting on the couch next to Jason, Tim can’t help but laugh at the other boy’s grumbling. They’d been playing Mario Kart since getting back to the manor, earlier in the afternoon. Once Tim had assured Mr. Wayne that he was fine, Jason insisted on lunch at Batburger before they took Tim back to pack a bag for the night. And once they got back to Wayne manor, Jason immediately turned on Mario Kart, occasionally choosing a track that he was clearly awful at. And every time they played it, Jason’s insults to the NPCs grew more creative. It was hilarious.

“Why do you insist on picking this track? You’ve fallen off every time we’ve played this track.” Tim asks, carefully navigating around the curves. Jason huffs.

“It’s the principal of the thing, Tim. Plus, it’s Dickhead’s favorite level. If I can just practice enough on it, I’ll be able to beat him.” He says firmly. Tim raises an eyebrow as Yoshi once again falls off.

“Dinner time, boys.” Alfred Pennyworth says, appearing in the doorway. Jason jumps slightly, making Yoshi fall off right before the finish line.

“Damnit.” He grumbles.

“Language, Master Jason. Unless you would like to add a dollar to the swear jar.” Mr. Pennyworth says, quirking an eyebrow. Jason smiles apologetically.

“Sorry, Alfie. Won’t happen again.” He says, before turning to Tim and winking. Tim snorts, then clears his throat and follows behind Jason.

“Thank you for dinner, Mr. Pennyworth.” Tim says, smiling at the man. His face softens as he nods.

“It’s my pleasure, young sir. And please, call me Alfred.” Mr. Pennyworth says. Tim smiles again, following Jason into the dining room. He liked hanging out with Jason, and after the last hour, he was pretty sure the older boy liked hanging out with him, too. Maybe they were even becoming friends.

Chapter Text

Tim shivered again and tried hard to ignore the tears welling up in his eyes. He was definitely sick. As badly as it hurt him to admit it (and, it truly hurt him), he probably needed help. Not much help, though. He probably didn’t need to go to the doctor or anything, but maybe some medicine. That would probably be helpful. But there was no medicine in the house, and he didn’t think taking the bus to the store was a good idea. So he needed help. He’d thought he didn’t. He’d even told Mrs. Mac when she stopped by after school that he was okay. After all, he’d made it through the school day mostly unscathed. He’d only skipped one class, so he figured he was mostly okay. But that was before he couldn’t get warm. Before he lost his supper. Before he started hallucinating Jason Todd at his front door.

“Oh dear.” Tim says, blinking at the figure (who was surely just a figment of his addled mind; why else would he be at his house?).

“What’s wrong, Timmy?” Jason asks, reaching out hesitantly. Tim sighs, but still tries to dodge the hand.

“I didn’t realize my fever was high enough to hallucinate Robin at my front door. I should probably call someone for help.” He says. Jason’s eyes widen, a look of alarm crossing his face.

“You have a fever?” He asks. Tim nods.

“Of course I do. Why else would you be at my door?” Tim asks, turning to go call Mrs. Mac. But he turns too abruptly and black spots dance across his vision. Before he can stop himself, his entire world goes dark.

---

A vaguely familiar voice wakes Tim up, and as much as he hates to open his burning eyes, he can’t keep them shut. Not when he doesn’t completely recognize whoever is talking. Even if their voice sounds nice and makes him feel safe.

“Hello, dear boy. Do you think you could drink some water?” The voice asks. There’s an accent, almost familiar. Tim tries to look at the person talking, but getting his eyes to actually focus on anything was a struggle.

“Where-” Tim manages to say before wincing at the pain in his throat. A blessedly cool cloth appears on his forehead and he lets out an involuntary sigh, his eyes flickering shut again.

“There’s a good lad. You’re at Wayne Manor. Master Jason went to your house to invite you over for dinner and found you unwell.” The voice- a man, Tim thinks- says. And suddenly, pieces start falling together. The voice had to be Alfred. And Tim was being a burden to the Waynes…again. Oh no. Tim tries to open his mouth to apologize to Alfred and insist he could go home, but darkness takes over once again.

---

The next time Tim wakes up, he blinks his eyes open and sighs. The ceiling was familiar, though he knew he wasn’t home. But the last two times he’d spent the night at Wayne Manor, he’d ended up in this exact room. He couldn’t quite remember how he’d ended up at Wayne Manor, though. Pushing himself up, he quickly squeezes his eyes shut to fight against the sudden wave of nausea. He takes a minute to try and breathe before opening his eyes again. Glancing around the room, he feels himself relax when he doesn’t see anyone else. He didn’t really feel like acting like he was okay right now, but he also didn’t want to worry any of the Waynes. He had already practically forced himself over here. That’s what he assumed, anyway. The last thing he remembered was opening the door and hallucinating Jason on his front step. But he could’ve taken care of himself. He’d done it before. All he had needed was to call Mrs. Mac to bring some medicine. Or he could have had some delivered. He felt bad that the Waynes kept getting roped into his drama. The door opens quietly and Tim leans back against the headboard, giving Jason a small smile. So much for not bothering any of the Waynes.

“Oh! You’re awake! How’re you feeling?” The older boy asks, carrying a book in one hand.

“I’m feeling much better. I’m really sorry for making you take care of me like this.” Tim apologizes, avoiding eye contact. He didn’t know what he’d see in Jason’s face, and he didn’t want to risk it being something too bad.

“Don’t apologize, Timbo. I’m just glad I got there when I did.” He says. Tim frowns, vaguely remembering that Jason Todd had randomly appeared at his house. Something that hadn’t ever really happened before. Mrs. Mac had a schedule. His parents, though they changed it often, had a schedule. People randomly showing up at Drake Manor was not normal.

“Why were you at my house?” Tim asks, quirking an eyebrow. Jason rubs the back of his neck, and Tim recognizes the action as something that he himself does when he’s feeling awkward.

“I uh, I was inviting you over for dinner. I thought that you might want to come hang out without being sick or recently traumatized. Plus Dick’s in town, and I thought you might want the chance to meet him.” Jason explains, smiling awkwardly. Tim winces. Of course he’d ruined someone’s plans. As much as he hated it, he was good at causing problems. Sometimes, he was pretty sure the problems he caused were the only reasons his parents knew he existed. Tim blinks at the thought. That was mean. And not true at all, right? His parents loved him and cared about him.

“I’m really sorry I ruined dinner.” Tim apologizes, cutting off his internal spiral. Jason’s eyebrows scrunched together.

“Are you…are you apologizing for being sick?” He asks. Tim shakes his head.

“Of course not. That would be ridiculous. I’m sorry that my illness negatively impacted your evening.” Tim clarifies. Jason shakes his head, and Tim quickly tries to think through his words, to see what he said that was wrong. But even though he’d just woken up, he was tired. And he still felt like garbage, so trying to figure things out was probably out of the question.

“We’ll come back to that when you don’t look like death, okay Timmers? You up for some food? You should probably at least drink something.” Jason says. Tim opens his mouth to insist that he was fine and could just head home, but a yawn cuts him off. Jason snorts. “Or maybe you need some more sleep. Go ahead and get some more rest. You can eat when you wake up.” He says. Tim decides not to fight against his drooping eyelids. Just another hour of sleep, and then he could go home and ride out the rest of this cold or flu or whatever it was, alone. It’s what he was used to, after all.

---

Instead of being able to go back to his house like he’d planned once he woke up, Tim found himself stuck at the breakfast table with not only Mr. Wayne and Jason, but also the Dick Grayson. It was, in a word, awkward. He didn’t know why Jason had insisted he had to eat breakfast. He was more than capable of making himself breakfast once he got home.

“So, Timmy, Jason tells me you’re pretty good at Mario Kart.” Dick says before shoveling a forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

“I’m not that good. Jason just kept picking levels that he was awful at.” Tim replies, taking a small bite of his pancake. It was good, but he was too stressed to enjoy it. This was the third time that the Waynes had felt obligated to let him stay. It was getting weird. And Tim didn’t like all of the questions Mr. Wayne had asked about his parents the last time he’d stayed the night. He was practically on the edge of his seat, waiting for Mr. Wayne to ask more questions. It was making him antsy.

“Well how about we play a couple rounds after breakfast?” Dick suggests. Tim hesitates. Would it be amazing to have the chance to play videogames with Dick Grayson? Yes. But he’d already decided that he had to go home. And that he had to stop imposing on the Waynes.

“I should really get home.” Tim says, smiling awkwardly. He didn't want Dick to think that he didn’t want to play videogames with him because he didn’t like him or something. Dick looks to Mr. Wayne and raises an eyebrow, making Tim frown.

“Tim, I actually thought that maybe you could stay here for the rest of the weekend.” He suggests.

“But, why? I don’t-”

“Because no one was home when you were sick with an extremely high fever, Tim. You should just stay here and hang out with us.” Jason says, and Tim feels a slight twinge of frustration in his chest. He wasn’t a baby. He could take care of himself.

“I can take care of myself. I was going to order some medicine to be delivered.” Tim counters with a frown. Jason frowns back at him.

“Yeah, sure, you can, but that doesn’t mean you should have to.” He says, crossing his arms.

“I’m not a baby, Jason.” Tim argues, glaring at the older boy. Jason opens his mouth, but Mr. Wayne cuts him off.

“No one is saying you’re a baby, Tim. I know that you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. But we enjoy having you here. We’d all like it if you stayed just another night.” Mr. Wayne says. Tim studies the man’s face, trying to find any deception hidden in it.

“I can take care of myself.” He reiterates, slumping back in his seat. He angrily takes another bite of his pancakes before he forces himself to breathe. It was fine. He’d stay this weekend, because the Waynes were insisting. And after this weekend? After this weekend he could do his best to avoid them. If he didn’t catch their attention, then he couldn’t be a burden. And he could have his normal routine.

Chapter Text

After his third sleepover at the Waynes, Tim had worked hard to keep things normal and avoid being a burden. The way he was used to. The way his parents had taught him. He refused Alfred’s offers to drive him to school with Jason (Tim was just fine riding his bike), he refused offers to come over for dinner (Mrs. Mac left stuff some nights and he knew how to microwave a frozen dinner other nights), and he definitely refused other sleepovers. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy spending time with the Waynes. Because he did. Jason was always pretty cool, and even though he was older than Tim, he didn’t treat him like a baby. Dick was okay, but he had a lot of questions like Mr. Wayne’s, and sometimes he used that weird voice if Tim said too much about his parents. Tim kind of got the impression that Dick and Mr. Wayne didn’t really like how his parents parented him, but Tim didn’t really care. Most kids weren’t as mature as he was. He could handle himself. So Tim had decided that enough was enough. He could still say hi, and be nice if he saw them out or at a gala. But he wouldn’t stay the night at Wayne Manor anymore. 

And besides, how was he supposed to follow them on patrol if he was in their manor? It simply wouldn’t work. So instead, he had to do his best to dodge the Waynes. Which shouldn’t have been as hard as it was. Tim wasn’t in any classes with Jason at Gotham Academy since the other boy was four years older than Tim. And it’s not like he’d ever seen Bruce Wayne walk inside the school to pick up Jason before. Sure, he’d seen him in his car, but now all of a sudden, the man was walking up to the school to pick up Jason. And Jason had definitely seemed annoyed, which meant it wasn’t his choice. But despite the Waynes’ obvious attempts at checking in on him, Tim was doing fine by himself. Until his accident on patrol. 

--- 

The smog filled sky might not be beautiful to some people, but to Tim? It was breathtaking. Every moment he was able to spend in Gotham during the night was a moment that he treasured. Tightening the strap of his camera bag, Tim takes a deep steadying breath. His heroes were back on patrol route 2A, which was his least favorite. But he also hadn’t been able to get great pictures lately, so he was determined to actually walk away tonight with something to show for it. Which meant he had to follow as closely as he does on the easier routes. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it. Tim had gotten pretty good at climbing and jumping between roofs. But the roofs on this route were spaced out awkwardly, which left more room for error. But Tim knew he could do it. He had to. 

Letting out a long breath, Tim takes a few steps back before running towards the edge and launching himself to the next roof. His landing is rough, and he scrapes his palms on the rooftop, but it was fine. He’d just have to disinfect them later. Grinning, Tim runs faster, getting a nice steady pace as he follows his heroes closely. Well, as close as he dares. He pauses a few rooftops away when he notices Robin and Batman leap down to stop a mugging. Tim moves to the edge of the roof, carefully taking pictures, attempting to make the lighting just right. He couldn’t wait to look at them later! Too quickly, Batman and Robin move back onto the rooftops, moving away quickly. Tim’s eyes widen, and he attempts to jump to the next roof.

Attempts. 

He barely manages to grab the ledge of the roof, and lets out a cry of pain as something in his arm pops. Unable to pull himself up, Tim begins to panic. This was one of the lower roofs on the route, luckily, but there was no fire escape. If he fell, he’d definitely break his leg. Maybe more. Before he can try again to pull himself up, his hand slips. And he’s falling. All he can think is, please don’t land on my back. Please. And he doesn’t, but he can feel the bones in his left leg snap as he crumples to the ground. Unable to stop himself, Tim lets out a scream of agony, snapping his mouth shut as quickly as he can. He knows this area isn’t the best to attract attention in. But he also had no idea how he was going to get home. The pain was washing over him in waves, making him nauseous as he struggled to stay awake. Black spots were dancing across his vision, making the panic even worse.

“Kid- oh shit. Tim!” A familiar voice yells, sounding panicked. “B, it’s Tim Drake.” The voice calls before suddenly there’s pressure on his hand. Someone is holding his hand. 

“We have to take you to the hospital.” A gruff voice says. Tim blinks. Batman?

“B’man?” He slurs. 

“Yes.” The gruff voice replies, and it’s a little softer than he expected. Before Tim can say anything else, he’s lifted from the ground. He lets out a shriek, trying hard to bite back his sobs. Everything hurt . It hurt so bad. Before he can ask Batman to just leave him on the ground, the darkness pulls him under. 

---

A familiar beeping pulls Tim out of his restless sleep. The dull ache in his leg doesn’t grant him the time to forget where he is. In the hospital. Again. His parents were going to be so mad at him. Taking in a shaky breath, Tim wills his tears to stay in. He lets the breath out slowly, freezing when he feels someone squeeze his hand. Who could-

“Batman?” Tim says before opening his eyes and blinking blearily at the man sitting in the chair next to him. The man chuckles and Tim blinks, clearing his vision. 

“Not quite, buddy.” Bruce Wayne says, smiling at him. Tim frowns. So much for avoiding the Waynes. 

“What- why are you here?” He asks. Mr. Wayne frowns. 

“What do you remember?” He asks. 

“I fell. And Batman found me and um, everything hurt.” Tim says, frowning. He’d really messed up now. How was he supposed to follow the Bats on patrol? He couldn’t see his leg underneath the blanket, but he could feel the scratchy material covering it. He knew it was in a cast. And he knew broken legs didn’t exactly heal quickly. He didn’t even want to think about how difficult it was going to be getting around Drake Manor. It was built to look elegant and classic, not to be easily accessible for people on crutches.

“I’m not sure what happened next for you, but when no one answered at your house, they called me. I came as quickly as I could.” Mr. Wayne says. Tim frowns. Why would the hospital call Mr. Wayne after calling his house? Why not call Mrs. Mac? Or call his parent’s cell phones instead of the landline? They probably wouldn’t answer those either, but at least there would be a chance of the hospital talking to them then.

“Why would they-”

“Timmy! B, you were supposed to let me know the second he woke up.” Jason scolds, rushing into the room. Mr. Wayne raises an eyebrow. 

“He just woke up, Jason. What was I supposed to do, ask the hospital to do an all call for you?” He asks. Jason huffs. 

“That would’ve been appreciated, old man.” He grumbles before turning to him. “How ya feeling, Tim?” He asks. Tim glances towards his leg, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest and the aching behind his eyes. He would not cry. He would not. He was fine. This was fine. 

“I’m fine.” He says, his voice cracking slightly. Tim does his best to suppress a wince. He didn’t need Jason and Mr. Wayne to know that he was in pain. And tired. And worried. 

“Are you sure? I can call the nurse in here if you need. I know how much of a bitch a broken leg can be.” Jason says. 

“Language.” Mr. Wayne says almost immediately. Tim just shakes his head. 

“So what happened anyway?” Jason asks, lounging in the chair right next to the bed. 

“I kinda fell.” Tim says, glancing down and playing with his hands instead of looking at Jason. He didn’t know what to say if Jason or Mr. Wayne asked why he was running around Gotham at night. And he really, really didn’t want them to tell his parents. His parents were already going to be extremely angry at him. 

“Fell? Off of what?” Jason asks, tilting his head. 

“Um. My skateboard.” Tim says. Jason raises an eyebrow.

“Your skateboard?” 

“Yes.” 

“Tim, your leg is literally shattered.” Jason deadpans, his eyes drifting to the cast. Tim frowns, trying to push himself further into his pillows. He didn’t want to talk about it. And he knew they couldn’t really call him out for it, because Batman and Robin are the ones who found him. Not Mr. Wayne and Jason. 

“Jay, not right now.” Mr. Wayne says quietly. Jason pouts, but doesn’t argue and Tim sighs in relief. He would try and come up with a better explanation later, but right now, he didn’t want to talk. Just sit and try to figure out how he was going to handle the next several months. 

---

“But you know that I can take care of myself, Mr. Wayne.” Tim argues, trying hard to push down his frustration. “And Mrs. Mac comes over to help, too.” 

“Tim, you and I both know that Mrs. Mac is a housekeeper, not your caretaker. And despite your maturity, Tim, it wouldn’t be safe for you to be home alone while you’re still getting used to crutches.” Mr. Wayne says calmly. Tim frowns. 

“I don’t know if my parents would like this arrangement.” He says. Which was, technically, the truth. His parents would be livid if Tim tries to have a long-term sleepover at the Waynes. Not only would he be overstaying his welcome, by a lot, but he would make his parents look bad. 

“Tim, the hospital isn’t going to let you leave unless you have an adult. Your parents…well, they aren’t in town right now.” Mr. Wayne says, and Tim’s stomach drops. They wouldn’t. 

“My parents are good people! They take care of me, they’re good parents.” He says, immediately jumping to their defense. Mr. Wayne holds his hands up in surrender. 

“I’m not saying they aren’t, Tim, but you’re a minor. The hospital was able to get ahold of your parents. They’re working to get a flight back as quickly as possible, but in the meantime, they signed approval of you coming to stay at Wayne Manor until they return.” Mr. Wayne explains. Tim pauses. They’d answered their phones?

“They did? Did they…did they want to talk to me?” Tim asks quietly. Mr. Wayne’s face falters. 

“I- I could try and reach them again.” He offers and Tim’s shoulders slump. 

“No, that’s okay.” He says. They’re busy people, after all. They can’t just stop working suddenly to talk to him for something as silly as a broken bone. It was his fault, after all. And now he was going to be stuck at Wayne Manor for an indefinite amount of time. Why couldn’t he stop causing problems? 

“Tim.” Mr. Wayne says softly. Tim glances over at the man, shocked to hear his voice so gentle. Usually, Mr. Wayne saved that tone for Jason or Robin. And one time Nightwing when Tim accidentally stumbled upon the younger hero crying. Regardless, it wasn’t a tone used with Tim . 

“Yes?” Tim asks, kind of worried. Mr. Wayne wasn’t suddenly going to tell him he was dying, was he? That would definitely not be ideal. 

“You know you are always welcome at the Manor, right?” Mr. Wayne asks instead. Tim blinks. 

“Huh.” He says, intelligently. Mr. Wayne smiles, but it looks pinched. 

“You are not a burden, Tim. Alfred, Jason and I all love when you come for dinner or to watch a movie. Just because you’re going to be staying with us for more than a single night does not mean that you are unwelcome.” He says. Tim’s jaw drops slightly. Out of everything that Mr. Wayne could have said, that was definitely something he didn’t expect. Tim nods hesitantly. Hopefully when Mr. Wayne changes his mind, he’ll let Tim know in a nice way. 

---

Four days later, Tim was standing in the entryway of Wayne Manor. For the first time since he’d started coming to the Wayne’s, he found himself not wanting to leave. But that may have more to do with his father’s twitching left eye and less to do with the fun he was having at the manor. 

“Thank you again for watching over him for us, Bruce. I just don’t understand why Mrs. Mac didn’t let us know that she couldn’t stay overnight this week.” His mother says, shaking her head. Tim suppresses a frown. He knew that his parents might get into trouble if Mr. Wayne knew that Mrs. Mac never stayed overnight, but he still didn’t want the older woman to get in trouble. Even though she didn’t have to stay overnight, she had once or twice when Tim was pretty sick. He didn’t want her to get fired for something that wasn’t even part of her job. Mr. Wayne just smiles, but Tim can see that it doesn’t really reach the man’s eyes. His eyes looked angry. 

“Not a problem, Janet. Tim is always welcome here. He and Jason get along quite well.” He says before shifting his gaze to Tim. “Do you have everything, Tim?” He asks. Tim nods. 

“Yes, Mr. Wayne. Thank you.” He says. Mr. Wayne’s smile softens, and his eyes lose the anger. 

“It’s not a problem, Tim.” He says. 

“Well, we should really get going. Wouldn’t want to overstay our welcome.” His mother chirps, placing a hand on Tim’s shoulder. She squeezes slightly, and Tim tries not to wince at the way her nails dig in. She ushers Tim out the door before he can say anything else to Mr. Wayne or Jason (who had been frowning and silent since his parents showed up). Tim stumbles a little, trying to keep up with his mother who seemed determined to keep a hand on his shoulder until they got to the car. The second Tim’s in the backseat, he tries to force his shoulders to relax. His parents were home, he should be happy. He shouldn’t be so tense. But his father was quiet, and his mother looked pinched. Which meant they were angry. And since they weren’t planning on returning to Gotham for at least another three weeks before Tim fell off that building, it was almost a guarantee that he was what they were mad at. The tense silence remained until his father parked the car. He turned off the car, but neither of his parents made any movements to leave the car. 

“Timothy, do you know why we have to leave you alone at times?” His father asks. Tim nods. “Use your words, Timothy.” 

“Yes, sir.” Tim says. 

“Yes, you know why we leave?” His father asks. 

“Yes, sir.” Tim repeats. His father nods slowly before hitting the steering wheel, making him jump. 

“Then why the hell are we back here?” He asks. Tim blinks, trying to steady his breathing and calm his heart rate. “You are supposed to be mature enough to stay by yourself, Timothy. But apparently, we’ve given you too much freedom. When we get into the house, I want your skateboard and phone.” Tim wants to argue. His skateboard wasn’t the actual culprit, but he couldn’t exactly tell his parents that he had followed Batman and Robin on patrol. And his phone…

“Timothy, stop dawdling. I’m sure you have plenty of homework that you can be working on.” His mother says firmly. 

“Yes ma’am.” Tim says quietly, wincing slightly as he maneuvers out of the car. At least they were home. 

---

Surprising no one, Tim’s parents stayed for less than a week. This time, however, they left with clear instructions. No skateboard (which was obvious, given his broken leg), no phone (they’d put it in a safe), and no Waynes. Tim was alone, again. Luckily, Mrs. Mac hadn’t been fired. Her face had looked tense the last time she’d dropped off food and cleaned the kitchen, but Tim hoped she wasn’t in too much trouble. Flopping down onto the couch, Tim lets out a breath. The entire time his parents had been home, he’d forced himself to crutch all the way upstairs to his room. He didn’t really have another choice. But now that he was alone again, he could just stay on the couch. Which would make his life a lot easier, considering the fact he had to crutch to and from the bus stop in Bristol. The landline rings and Tim doesn’t bother to suppress his sigh. Picking up his crutches, he pulls himself off the couch and makes his way to the phone. 

“Hello. Drake residence.” Tim sighs into the phone. 

“Timmy! I haven’t heard from you in forever. How’s the leg?” Jason asks happily. Tim freezes, caught between not wanting to disobey his parents, and not wanting to upset Jason. Jason, who willingly played video games with him, and called him anything but ‘Timothy’. Jason, who was also Robin- not only his literal hero, but also one of the coolest people Tim had ever met. His parents wouldn’t know if Tim talked to Jason for a couple minutes, right? 

“Hi, Jason. Um, my leg’s fine. Still uh, still broken, obviously. But it’s fine.” He says. Jason laughs. 

“Well, yeah, I kinda figured. Did you wanna come over and play some Mario Kart? Alfie’s making roast.” Jason offers, and Tim’s stomach drops. It was one thing to talk to Jason on the phone, and kind of disobey his parents. It would be an entirely different thing to go over to Wayne Manor. For some reason, despite telling the hospital that Mr. Wayne had permission to take Tim home with him, his parents were angry with the Waynes. Maybe they’d expected Mr. Wayne to just drop Tim off at his house so that they wouldn’t have to come get him? That was probably it. Whatever reason it was, though, his parents didn’t want him spending any more time at Wayne Manor. Or with the Waynes in general. If they found out he went over there….

“I’m actually kind of tired from school.” Tim says, which wasn’t really a lie. Walking all the way to and from the bus stop and all around school on crutches was kind of exhausting. 

“I get it. One time a couple years ago, I broke my ankle and I was so tired from the stupid ass crutches- sorry, Alfie!- Anyway, I understand. When you feel like hanging out again, just text me and we can come pick you up, okay?” Jason offers. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course. Um, I’ve gotta go eat dinner. Bye Jason.” Tim says, hanging up before the older boy can say anything else. Tim lets out a shaky breath, surprised at the sudden wave of emotions. It was silly of him, to get so upster. But this was the first time he realized he couldn’t go back to the Waynes. He didn’t realize how much he appreciated being at Wayne Manor, with people who were nice to him, until he wasn’t allowed back. Until he was completely alone once again. 

Chapter Text

Tim Drake wasn’t sure what deity he had upset, but he was ready to write lengthy apology notes. Currently, he was rapidly moving (well, rapid for crutches; he still wasn’t very good at using them but his house was definitely not wheelchair accessible) towards the other bus stop near his school that goes to Bristol. He’d had to stay after class to talk to a teacher, which meant he’d missed his usual bus. Any other day, this wouldn’t be a problem. But between his crutches digging into his underarms and the light drizzle of rain, Tim was almost ready to cry. Almost. Tim pauses, giving himself a moment to catch his breath. He frowns as a van slows next to him. Quickly deciding not to stick around, Tim attempts to continue his trek towards the bus stop. Something hitting his head immediately brings those plans to an end as he crumples to the ground.

---

Waking up, Tim groans quietly. Blinking at his surroundings, he can’t help the dread that settles into his bones. His memories come flooding back to him and he tries to force back the tears. He’d been kidnapped, and he was terrified. Back when he first started school, his parents had sat him down and had the kidnapping conversation with him. It was one of his least favorite memories, mostly because thinking about it always led him to freaking out.

“Son, now that you’re a big kid, it’s time we had a talk.” His dad had said.

“About what?” Tim had asked.

“It’s very important, Timothy, so you need to listen carefully.” His mother had said, ignoring his question. Tim had nodded, trying to show them that he was a good listener. A great listener, even.

“Good job, sport. Now, here’s the deal. When you’re walking to and from the bus stop, a bad person could spot you. And they might take you. Do you know what you do if they take you, Tim?” His dad had asked. Tim had shook his head, since he hadn’t been sure what kind of bad guys his dad was talking about.

“No, sir.” He’d said.

“You figure a way out, son. Your mother and I, we don’t pay ransoms. We don’t give the bad men money because it sets a bad precedent. If we pay a kidnapper for you once, then they’ll just keep taking you for an easy paycheck. It’s much better for you to be the mature kid we know you are, and figure a way out yourself. You can do that, can’t you sport?” His father had explained.

Tim couldn’t remember what he’d said next, but he knew he was sent to his room and his parents were mad at him about it until they’d left for Argentina. Glancing around the warehouse he was in, he tried not to panic. In a different situation, it might be easier for him to try and figure a way out. He may have even been able to do it easily. But now, he couldn’t spot his crutches anywhere. Even if he did manage to slip out of the ropes binding him to his chair, there was no way he could run. He was stuck. He was doomed.

“Oh, I see someone’s awake. Go ahead and give me your parent’s number and this whole ordeal can be done.” An unfamiliar man says. Tim was just glad the man looked semi-normal. No clown masks, or question marks, or any other Rogue goon calling cards anywhere. Tim takes in a breath.

“I’m afraid it won’t do you much good, sir. They’re not home right now.” Tim says, trying to sound calmer and braver than he felt. The man’s eyes narrow.

“Did I ask if they were home? No. I asked for their number. Now give it.” He says.

“They won’t pay a ransom.” Tim tries again. He already knew that. He didn’t need it to be confirmed. The man steps closer to him, grabbing his shirt and pulling him (and the chair) up off the ground.

“I told you to give me their damn number. Now give me the damn number.” The man practically growls. Tim gives a short nod before rattling off their emergency number. He would probably get in trouble later for using it, but at least he was sure they would answer it. The man dials the number and puts the phone on speaker. Tim feels his shoulders tense. He really didn’t want to hear this conversation.

“Janet Drake speaking.” His mother’s voice rings through, sounding bored and uninterested.

“Janet, how nice to speak to you. I have your son- Timothy, wasn’t it? He’s safe, for now. But if you want to see him alive again-” The man starts, but his father cuts the man off.

“I’m going to stop you right there, Chuck. Can I call you Chuck?” His father says. The man frowns.

“My name is Der-”

“Chuck, my son knows that the Drakes don’t pay ransoms. You calling has just wasted your time, and mine. Tim knows it’s his job to get himself out of tough situations. He’s plenty old enough. I’m going to go ahead and hang up now. Janet and I just got on site.” His father says, before there’s a click and silence. Tim’s heart drops even more. He knew what his parents’ feelings were on ransoms. He knew not to expect much, but it still hurt. A small part of him had thought that maybe they’d pay the ransom, just this once, since it was the first time he’d been kidnapped. And since they knew that his leg was still broken. Sure, it had been about four weeks since he broke it, but he still couldn’t really put weight on it. Especially not well enough to run from a kidnapper.

“What the fuck.” The man says, looking between the phone and Tim. Tim shrugs weakly.

“I told you.” He says.

“I threatened to kill you.” The man (not Chuck, Der- something) says. Tim nods.

“You did. Could I perhaps suggest that you don’t? I have an emergency credit card I could offer you. I’m not sure on the limit, and I don’t know what my parents would do if they were alerted of purchases made outside of Gotham. But I only have fifty dollars in cash.” Tim says, trying to come up with a solution of some sort. The man blinks.

“I told your parents I was going to kill you, and they hung up on me.” He says. Tim flinches.

“Yes. Now, I’m trying to come up with a solution that is mutually-”

“What the fuck, kid? Jesus fucking christ, I did not sign up for this bullshit. I signed up for some easy money. Should’ve just gone for the Wayne brat. Wayne always pays his ransoms.” The man grumbles, pushing his hair back with a scowl. Tim frowns. Jason- Robin- had been kidnapped? And Mr. Wayne- Batman- paid to get him back? Why would he do that? Surely Jason could escape by himself, right?

“Mr. Wayne paid ransom for Jason?” Tim accidentally blurts out. The man raises an eyebrow.

“You know the Waynes?” He asks, a calculating look on his face. Tim curses himself internally and immediately shakes his head. He really didn’t want to bother Mr. Wayne anymore than he already had. He was already staying at the manor from after school on Fridays until school on Mondays (he’d managed to convince Mr. Wayne that he was fine during the week because Mrs. Mac came over; he just didn’t mention that she came during the school day because he was way old enough to take care of himself). He didn’t need to add to the burden again.

“I know of them.” Tim lies. The man snorts.

“Yeah right, kid. Look, just give me Wayne’s number and you’ll be fine.” He says. Tim shakes his head. He knew better. And more importantly, he didn’t want to hear Mr. Wayne say he wouldn’t pay the ransom. He’d already had to hear his parents say it. He didn’t need to hear Mr. Wayne say it too.

“I don’t have his number. We’ve met at a gala or two, that’s it.” Tim says. The man’s eyes narrow.

“Look, kid, I don’t want to kill you. But I have no problems hurting you, especially if that’s what it’ll take to get you to give me a number so that I can actually get some fucking money out of this ordeal.” The man snaps.

“I’m telling you, I don’t-” Tim tries to lie, but a sudden stinging on his face makes his mouth snap shut. He grits his teeth and wills himself to not cry. He could handle this. He was fine.

“Look, I just need the money. More money than I can get from some emergency card that can’t even leave the city. Just…. Just give me the number and I won’t hurt you again.” The man says, his fists clenched at his sides. Tim stares at the man’s fists for a few moments, trying to decide what he should do. He tries to ask himself what would Robin do, but he already knows. Robin would be able to fight his own way out. And he’d be able to handle whatever this guy threw at him, but he wouldn’t have to. Because Batman would have his back. Hopefully, he would have Tim’s back too. Swallowing down his guilt, Tim quietly recites Mr. Wayne’s cell number. The man relaxes and makes eye contact with Tim before putting the call on speaker. Tim’s shoulders slump. He had some hope that Mr. Wayne would answer and pay the ransom. But he also had some doubts. After all, his own parents didn’t want to pay the ransom, so why would Mr. Wayne?

“Bruce Wayne speaking.” Mr. Wayne says cheerfully. Tim’s eye twitches at the voice that he noticed Mr. Wayne used for interviews and galas. Whenever Tim was over at the Manor, Mr. Wayne’s voice was much closer to Batman’s voice. In public though, it was weirdly fake. Tim hated it.

“Evening, Brucie. I have someone here who you may know.” The man says casually.

“I’m sorry? Can I ask who this is?” Mr. Wayne asks in the same fake voice. The man in front of Tim chuckles lightly.

“Now that wouldn’t be very smart of me, would it. Do you happen to know a kid named Timothy Drake?” The man asks. There’s silence for a moment, and Tim’s mind immediately jumps to the worse case scenario. He’d annoyed Mr. Wayne and Mr. Wayne had hung up and no one was coming and Tim was going to die and-

“Is he safe?” Mr. Wayne asks, and Tim’s shocked to hear that his voice is much closer to his Manor voice than his Gala voice.

“For now.” The man says. Tim wishes the man would stop being so cryptic. Mr. Wayne would not appreciate that.

“What do you want? Money?” Mr. Wayne asks. The man’s face lights up, and all Tim can do is stare, dumbfounded, at the phone.

“You read my mind, Brucie. Obviously we don’t want to involve the police. I can give you a location for drop off for the money. At that location, you’ll find information on little Timothy’s whereabouts. What do you say, Wayne, wanna make a deal?” The man asks, grinning.

“Let me talk to Tim first. I need to know that he’s okay.” Mr. Wayne says. The man nods at Tim.

“Go ahead, kid. Speak.” He says after Tim just stares at him silently. The man’s smile drops into a frown and Tim quickly clears his throat. No need to upset him anymore.

“Um, hello?” He says. Mr. Wayne lets out a sigh.

“Tim? Tim, are you okay? Is your leg okay? Are you hurt?” He asks rapidly.

“I’m fine, Mr. Wayne. Sorry for bothering you. I tried to tell him not to call you.” Tim explains. Tim’s kidnapper frowns, and Tim decides to not try and figure out what the man was thinking.

“Tim-” Mr. Wayne starts, but stops. “We can talk later. I’m glad you’re okay.” He says. Tim’s breath catches in his throat. He can see the man’s mouth moving, and knows that numbers and locations are being finalized, but Tim can’t focus on all of that. Mr. Wayne was going to pay his ransom. Tim was going to go home. Mr. Wayne actually cared about him.

Chapter Text

Tim sat on his chair, trying hard not to fall asleep. He was exhausted. Probably because of the whole kidnapping and ransom thing. Which he was still waiting to be rid of. Der had left almost an hour ago, but he hadn’t given Tim his crutches. He’d said something about him needing to ‘let someone else take care of him’. Which meant he’d been stuck on his chair. Not that he was too worried. He was pretty sure the GCPD were on their way to get him now that Mr. Wayne was involved. He just felt lucky that he wouldn’t be spending the night in the drafty warehouse. He would, hopefully, be back to Drake manor before long. Not that he really wanted to stay the night alone, but he also didn’t wanna intrude on Mr. Wayne and Jason. Not after Mr. Wayne helped save him. Just before he drifts off, the warehouse door flings open and several officers rush in.

“It’s just me,” Tim calls out, nodding at the men. “I don’t- Mr.- Mr. Wayne?” Tim’s breath catches in his throat. Mr. Wayne showed up? Bruce showed up for him? Before he can process the wave of emotions, Mr. Wayne crossed the room and knelt in front of him.

“How are you doing, chum?” He asks gently, carefully undoing the ropes around his wrists. Tim just blinks, struggling to find the words. Any words. “Tim, buddy?”

“You came,” Tim finally breathes out. Mr. Wayne’s face falls slightly, but the look is gone almost as quick as it showed up.

“Of course I did,” He says softly. A strangled sound escapes Tim’s mouth as he falls forward into Mr. Wayne’s arms. The man immediately wraps him into a hug, gently lifting him out of the chair. It was a little ridiculous, since he was ten, but he also couldn’t deny how nice it felt. He hadn’t really realized how scared and how overwhelmed he was until Mr. Wayne showed up to take care of everything. Tim tries to say thank you, but all that comes out is a little sob.

“I’ve got you buddy. I’ve got you.”

---

Tim stares up at the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling. After the first time he woke up from nightmares, Dick had pulled a ladder into his room and covered the ceiling with the things. He’d told Tim that it had always helped him when he had nightmares, and even though Tim knew he was old enough to not be scared of the dark, it helped. Being in the warm manor, always full of people, helped. Ever since the kidnapping fiasco, Tim had been with the Wayne family. Mr. Wayne had insisted on Tim staying at Wayne Manor until his parents came home, and Tim, for once, didn’t argue. He longed to feel safe and cared for, and he had that in the manor. He had Jason, Alfred, Mr. Wayne, and sometimes Dick, too. But he knew that it couldn’t last. He’d overheard Bruce and Jason talking about his parents’ upcoming return. It may have something to do with why he can’t sleep. His door pushes open gently and Tim quickly snaps his eyes shut.

“I just saw you, Timmy. I know you’re awake.” Jason says with a snort. Tim sits up and frowns at the older boy.

“Why are you up?” He asks. Jason shrugs.

“Just can’t sleep, I guess. What about you?”

“I…can’t sleep.” Tim finally says, shoulders slumping. It wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the whole truth. But how could he tell Jason the truth? What was he even supposed to say? He didn’t want to go back to his parents? He felt at home here? His parents answered the phone first and refused to pay the ransom? He couldn’t do that. He hadn’t even told Mr. Wayne about the whole, ‘refusing to pay the ransom’ thing. He was sure the man wouldn’t be happy about it, and he really didn’t want his parents to get in trouble. They did a lot for him, and he was supposed to be grateful. He wasn’t supposed to cry and beg the Waynes to keep him, or run off and complain about them refusing to pay one little ransom. Even if part of him really, really wanted to tell Mr. Wayne about it. Jason grins, raising an eyebrow.

“Mario Kart?” He asks. Tim’s eyebrows furrowed together.

“Wouldn’t we get in trouble?” He asks. He knew that Alfred and Mr. Wayne didn’t mind it when they played video games during the day, but he was certain it was too late for them to play games now. Jason shakes his head.

“Nah. Tomorrow’s Saturday, so B won’t mind.” Jason assures him. Tim almost declines the offer. Almost.

“As long as we can play Rainbow Road. I’m super close to beating Dick’s record.”

---

Tim usually felt something when his parents came home. Usually, it was a kind of happiness. Never complete happiness, because he knew that they wouldn’t stay. They never did. But this time, when his parents told him that they were coming home, Tim was disappointed. Yes, he already knew they were coming back, from overhearing Bruce and Jason talk. But it didn’t really make it any better, he still had to go back to the coldness of Drake Manor. He’d have to leave the safety and comfort of Wayne Manor. A place that had become his safe haven after the whole kidnapping thing. But he knew, deep down, that it could never last. That he didn’t belong. He had parents. And a house. But sometimes… sometimes it was nice to pretend.

“Tim, I hope you know that you can still call us if you need anything.” Mr. Wayne says with a small smile. Jason nods.

“And if you wanna come over and play Mario Kart some more, you can. Just ‘cause your parents are home doesn’t mean we’re not friends anymore.” Jason grins. Tim nods silently, not daring to say anything. From the way his father was gripping his shoulder, Tim had strong doubts that he’d ever be allowed to contact any of the Waynes again. Though he wasn’t sure why his father was so upset. He’d always said that Tim should make friends with more influential people. And who was more influential in Gotham than Bruce Wayne? And it’s not like Tim would try to make friends with Mr. Wayne. That would just be weird. It’d be like trying to be friends with his mother and father.

“Thank you again, Bruce, for watching over our boy for us. I know he can be a handful.” His father says, his eyes cold as he stares at the Waynes. Jason’s jaw twitches for some reason, but Mr. Wayne sets a hand on his shoulder and the older boy relaxes. Deciding that he didn’t really want to listen to all of the ways his father was upset with him for simply existing, Tim does his best to zone out of the rest of the conversation, and the walk to the car. He manages to stay lost in his head until his father’s sharp tone breaks through.

“Are you listening to me, Timothy?”

“Sorry, sir.” Tim replies, blinking several times to try and make his mind wake back up.

“Honestly, Timothy, you have to start paying attention when adults talk to you. Otherwise, they might think you’re unintelligent. And we can’t have that, now can we?” His mother tuts, shaking her head before sliding into the front seat. Tim shakes his head before he hunches in on himself and quickly scrambles into the backseat. There would be no winning that conversation, and he didn’t feel like arguing with his parents on their first day back in Gotham.

“It’s not about intelligence, Janet, it’s about respect. If I had walked around the way he does when I was his age, my dad would’ve knocked me on my ass. That’s just not how a Drake behaves.” His father insists, gripping the steering wheel. His mother sighs.

“Well whatever the issue is, Timothy, I suggest you spend more time focusing on fixing it, and less time on whatever the Wayne family is doing.” She says, her lip curling slightly in disgust. Tim swallows back an argument. Now wasn’t the time. He wasn’t sure if there would ever be a time to stick up for the Waynes, but he knew it definitely wasn’t today. Maybe once they’d settled in and he’d proven himself again, maybe then he could ask about talking to the Waynes. Maybe.

---

Tim honestly wasn’t surprised that his parents sent him to his room right away. Nor was he surprised when his mother popped in a few hours later to let him know that they’d be leaving early the next morning. It was fine. Sure being alone made it really hard to prove himself, which meant it would be even longer before he got to see Jason and Mr. Wayne and Alfred and Dick again, but it would be fine. He’d figure it out. Staring out his window, he frowns as he’s able to just make out part of Wayne manor in the distance. Even though he wanted to text Jason or Dick, he knew he wasn’t supposed to. Instead, he hops over to his bed and decides to just turn in early. Looking up at the ceiling, he can’t help the wave of sadness that washes over him when he realizes there aren’t stars on it. Which was weird. He hadn’t been sleeping with stars on his ceiling for very long, but being without them already felt wrong.

He pushes down the thought that it’s not just a lack of ceiling stars that felt wrong.

Before his parents had gone to bed, (they’d gone to bed extremely early because of their upcoming flight), his father had reiterated the fact that he was not supposed to be in contact with the Waynes. And that he was already in trouble for relying on the Waynes to help with the whole kidnapping thing, and that he was much too helpless for a kid his age. It was a…lovely conversation. Turning over, Tim tries hard to ignore how empty the house feels. It shouldn’t feel empty. He knew his parents were in their room. He knew he wasn’t the only one in Drake Manor.

But he still felt alone. More than that, he was lonely. Blinking back the tears that keep trying to fall, Tim lets himself drift into unconsciousness.

---

Neverending knocking from the front door yanks Tim out of his fitful sleep. He sits up, blinking as he tries to figure out why no one was answering the door. Oh. Right. His parents were gone. Again. Huffing out a sigh, he grabs his crutches and carefully makes his way out of his room and down the stupidly long staircase. Wayne Manor had stupidly long staircases because it was an old house. Drake Manor had stupidly long staircases because his parents thought it would look nice. They were not practical. Tim’s eye twitches slightly as he finally makes it to the front door. Whoever was knocking was definitely persistent, he’d give them that. Leaning on one of his crutches, he carefully flings the door open, raising an eyebrow at Jason.

“What’re you-”

“Did your parents refuse to pay the ransom?” Jason asks, his eyes wide and his face distraught. Tim’s stomach drops and time freezes. Jason knew. How did Jason know? Who told Jason? Did this mean Bruce knew? Would they finally understand that Tim wasn’t worth it, would they finally be tired of him? Tim staggers backwards, almost falling as his crutch slides out from under him. He barely registers Jason flinging himself forward and grabbing him to keep him from falling. Was he in trouble? Were his parents?

“Okay, okay, take a breath Timmy, I’m sorry. It’s okay, Timmy,” Jason says gently, flattening Tim’s hair. It’s at this moment that Tim realizes he’s crying. Like really, really crying.

“Jay- oh Tim,” Dick’s familiar voice rings through the entryway, and suddenly he’s being lifted. Part of him knows that he should demand to be put down, and that he should immediately contact his parents and let them know that people know about the ransom. Part of Tim knows that his parents might get in trouble for this, and that some people wouldn’t understand that they just don’t pay ransoms. Some people would think that that was a bad parenting choice. But he can’t make himself do it. He’s just so tired of always being the one to make the right choice. And even though it’s only been a few hours, he’s already tired of being alone. He doesn't want to be alone. Familiar footsteps rush into the house, and Tim is finally able to catch his breath and stop crying just as Mr. Wayne walks in and makes eye contact with him.

“Oh, bud. I’m sorry,” He says, walking over and taking him from Dick. Tim lets it happen, even though he’s definitely too old to be passed around like a baby.

“Why- how did you-”

“The kidnapper called in. Apparently it’s been bothering him since he first called your parents,” Mr. Wayne explains gently, walking them over to the couch. He sets Tim down next to him, and Tim blinks as the man’s words catch up to his brain. The guy that kidnapped him called the GCPD?

“Did he turn himself in?” Tim asks, and Mr. Wayne snorts.

“No, bud, he didn’t do that. But he did tell Gordon all about calling your parents and their response, and the fact that you had told him that they wouldn’t pay the ransom,” Mr. Wayne says. Tim shudders a bit. He didn’t want Mr. Wayne to know. He didn’t want Jason or Dick to know. “Tim, buddy, how did you know that they wouldn’t pay the ransom?”

“They told me,” Tim says simply. It was something he’d known since he first started school. He’d just had to get used to the idea of it. He just hadn’t ever really expected to actually get kidnapped and see their policy in action.

“B, you can’t seriously tell me that you’re gonna leave him here after that,” Jason interjects. Tim frowns, glancing over at Jason and Dick who had wandered over near them.

“What do you-”

“You’ve gotta come live with us. Like, for real live with us. B is gonna fight for custody of you, because if he doesn’t I will,” Jason declares. Mr. Wayne raises an eyebrow, but his smile seems sincere.

“And how do you think that will go over?” He asks. Jason shrugs.

“I figure if they let some assholes who refuse to pay ransom for their kid keep their kid, they’ll let a good citizen like myself take one in,” He says simply. Dick snorts, and Jason glares at him, giving the older man a good whack in the stomach.

“Wait, what?” Tim asks, the conversation finally registering in his brain. Mr. Wayne shoots Jason a look before turning all of his attention to Tim.

“GCPD let me know today that they’re taking you out of your parents’ custody until after a trial determines if they are fit to be parents. In order to be found fit, they’ll have to go through some mandatory classes through the state,” Mr. Wayne explains, and Tim’s stomach drops. His parents were losing custody of him? But where-

“Jesus B, you’re gonna give the kid a heart attack. Timmy, B already has the papers and everything in place to foster you. If that’s okay with you,” Jason says, a smile creeping onto his face. Tim’s eyes widen as he looks between Jason and Dick and Bruce. He could have his ceiling stars again. He could have people in the house all the time, he could not be lonely anymore. He could know that someone had his back, and that someone would come for him if he was in over his head. It sounded like a dream come true.

“Really?” He asks quietly, terrified that Bruce will say no. That he’ll say that Jason was just kidding. Instead, Bruce nods.

“Of course, buddy,” He says softly. Tim feels his shoulders deflate as most of his tension drains out of his body. A thought pops into the back of his head, and Tim frowns. It may not be the best time to bring it up, but-

“Hey, B?” He tests out, chest warming at the wide smile Mr. Wayne gives him when he doesn’t call him Mr. Wayne.

“Yeah, Tim?”

“I uh, I know you’re Batman.”