Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tim knows this is a bad idea, it's not even just a bad idea, it's a cross your fingers and hope you get out of it type of bad idea.

Too bad Tim is a gambler.

It's in his bones he tells himself, his father gambled with money, he gambles with his life. He’s the better gambler of the two, at least he’s still alive . For now.

That might change.

If anyone wanted to know the odds, Tim would say it was one to one. Statistically worse odds than russian roulette, but better odds than say, running around gotham at night with nothing but a camera and an exacto knife. Tim survived the latter, he would survive this too. He hoped.

A year ago Tim's world collapsed.

His mansion on a hill whisked away from debtors only a month after his father was found in a coma and his mother… he visited her once a week (with leftover flowers from the greenhouse he worked in on Monday and Tuesday nights). Her resting place was as cold as ever.

The Drakes insurance was dutiful enough to cover hospital expenses, the same couldn’t be said for dependants. The collectibles Tim had smuggled out had been enough to take him this far, but even that was coming to an end.

Which is where this particularly less than brilliant plan came in.

Tim was going to blackmail Batman.

A few years ago, he wouldn’t even dream of it.

Batman was a hero.

He was hope for the city with the highest crime rate in the world. Not only did it take a special person to be able to do that, it took an even more special type of person to try. With Robin, the most terrifyingly motivated child in Gotham, and Batgirl who was equally ready to kick anyone in the face, Batman actually managed to slow the steadily rising crime rates. 

They were heroes and legends, but only whispers made it onto paper. Were there vigilantes in the dark?

Tim captured it all, caught between the shutters of the old-style camera- a relic from his father's photography phase.

Nightwing appeared.

A new robin graced the scene.

Tim could swear he almost felt safe bussing home from school.

But if the world kept shining, it wouldn’t stay Gotham, now would it?

Robin was gone.

Only a week after lowering Tim's own mother into the ground, Bruce Wayne collapsed on top of a closed casket on television.

The current Batman was a blackhole of whatever hope remained.

Tim was hungry for food.

Gotham didn’t need to be hungry for blood, it had more meals than Tim did. Tim was done with packing extra bandages and budgeting the cost of burner phones just to call 911.

If Bruce could afford to keep feeding the city, he would have to start feeding the only thing keeping his vigilante status from turning to villain.

There were a hundred ways this could backfire.

CFS was probably on the man's speed dial if he wasn’t kidding himself and there was no way Tim could afford to hire an actor to play his fake uncle to the courts again .

But…

Batman couldn’t afford to get his cover blown anymore.

Public opinion was fickle.

Batman didn’t gamble, not when things mattered. He didn’t take risks by letting kids with photo evidence anywhere near the authorities. If Tim started showing up at soup kitchens that was exactly what would happen.

So either Batman would make sure Tim had the supplies so no one else would need to get involved, or he would make sure Tim didn’t have a chance to get anyone involved ever again.

Batman had yet to purposefully break that one rule .

Tim was betting he wouldn’t start with a kid.

That was the gamble.

Tim had a good feeling though- he was already on a winning streak.

Chapter Text

It's one thing to wake up one morning and decide to blackmail Batman.

It's another thing to use your traceable bus pass from the anonymity of park row's shadows, to walk up to Batman's doors and follow his butler, into his waiting room , and threaten him.

That didn’t mean Tim wasn't going to do it, it just meant he was allowed to be a little jittery.

Steph noticed on the bus to school. Of course, she noticed, she tapped his shoulder and he jumped ‘six feet’ (not that high, Tim argued). Now she was following him to school ‘ta see if (she) could beat the guys who scared ya’. Normally Tim didn't mind his one balcony-down- neighbour, Today he was grateful skipping two grades put him in a different school.

Why he was still in school was really just paranoia. He had visions of his father snapping his eyes open and demanding to see his report card.

Not that it would happen. His father could wake up and if he did he might eventually look for his report card, but logically Jack Drake would have other things on his mind.

Even if Tim dropped out, he would have the time to hack records and make it look like he hadn’t.

It was better to avoid getting to that point anyways.

That didn’t mean Tim was above skipping.

Ives managed to sneak three paper straws into his hair, as Tim mulled over contingency plans during lunch. It was the last straw- literally. One of the seniors decided the game wasn't worth having to drink from a cup like a normal person. Ives took the moment to auction off all three of them using Tims head as the display case. Tim would have protested, but he got an extra granola bar out of the deal. 

By the end of lunch hour, Tim was already dreading the ‘pop’ quiz his science teacher had prepared for the next class. It wasn’t like he didn’t know, he just couldn’t focus.

Tim decided that blackmailing Batman counted as a family emergency. With a quick bit of audio file stitching- Tim walked free.

Wayne Manor was way too close to home for Tim's liking.

He passed a sign marking his old home as the ‘Wilson estate’. 

It made him shudder.

Tim entered the Wayne gate the way any criminal would. Ringing the buzzer, looking cute, and hoping Alfred Pennyworth was just as kind as he had been at previous galas.

Ok, maybe that wasn’t normal for criminals, but it worked .

It felt awful to put on the bristol accent again.

It felt like silk ties tightening around his throat and the goo-like texture of hair gel getting a little too close to his roots.

Tim grew up chasing vigilantes and listening in to goons in crime alley.

He knew he wasn’t a crime alley kid, but he had more ‘social interaction’ there than in Bristol. The bristol accent was reserved for galas, and awkward car rides with his parents. That wasn’t his life anymore.

However, Tim couldn’t look straight into the butler's eyes and talk without it. It was so, so uncouth his mothers voice echoed.

“I need to see Mr. Wayne, Sir.”

Alfred looked with surprise.

“Is there any special reason?”

“I have a proposal for him, sir.”

“Business is dealt with at WE headquarters, master-”

“Alvin Draper. Forgive me Mr. Pennyworth, but this is quite sensitive.”

Alfred conceded after prompting the use of his first name.

Tim declined, he was here to blackmail- it wasn’t like he was cruel enough to make it feel like a betrayal. It already did, Kinda. These were his heroes. No matter how grown up Tim was prepared to be, a part of Tim was still 13; sitting in Batman's house and drinking Robin's favourite tea.

Bruce arrived, a little dishevelled. His stance tilted to the left, where he had been hit by bane two nights ago. Underneath his button-up shirt, a peak of Kevlar could be seen. He hadn’t slept. Telltale bags nestled beneath his eyes, which were red rimmed and bloodshot.

“Alvin?” The man asked, settling down as Alfred poured another cup of tea. Alfred carefully removed himself from the table, but didn’t leave the room. 

“I was under the impression school wasn’t out yet.” Bruce started again.

Tim hummed noncommittal.

He wasn't about to blackmail someone with an audience.

“There was a… situation that needed to be cleared up.” Tim lifted the tea cup as if he was about to drink and then let his hand slip. 

It dropped to the floor with a clean high high-pitched clink his mother taught him to recognise as quality china. The cup survived, thanks to the overly padded rug beneath them, but it forced Alfred into action. 

As Alfred moved out of the room, Tim pulled out the envelope he had shoved between the pages of a textbook.

“It appears you have been negligent to the finer side of your night hobby,” Tim stated, dropping an octave to sound more in control, “My partner has been left with damage control.” yup, just like he practised. Tim watched as Batman studied his face, searching to see how much Tim knew. “Unfortunately it has placed him in a tight spot.” Skipping meals counted right? “He is requesting payment for his services.” Bruce's voice hitched, “300 dollars. On the rightmost gargoyle of the opera house roof starting tonight, every Thursday.” 

“And… why would I give your partner this payment?” batman rumbled in a way that was very not-Bruce

“Bandages aren’t cheap. And getting help takes caution,” Tim stated. Alfred would be back soon, he needed to stop and get out of here, “Surely he deserves payment for his trouble.”

The approaching footsteps declared Tim’s time was up.

“Think about it,” Tim tapped the envelope, before standing, and walking- maybe a little too fast- past Alfred out the door.

He didn’t wait for a reaction.

He doubted there was a way it would be good. He just walked straight on- past the bus stop towards Gotham propper. He wasn’t about to trust Gotham's transit system tonight.

Chapter Text

Tim's apartment was empty, just like the manor had been six months of the year. He entered from the balcony, stomping three times as he got to the kitchen sink.

It was code for ‘I’m home’

Tim heard two thuds beneath him: ‘Not alone.’ 

Steph didn’t stop in much when her mom was there. Something about family bonding. Tim couldn’t blame her. He had acted the same way with his mother. That wasn’t a problem today.

He needed the space and the time to hack the bus records and hide his traces on security cameras. This was one of those things Steph didn't need to deal with.

He listened to the police scanners as he worked, keeping an ear for any Batman sightings.

There should be a drug bust today, so long as he hadn’t rocked the boat too much.

Tim hesitated about going out tonight.

On one hand, he had told Batman he had a partner. So Batman wouldn’t expect to find a kid, probably. He also needed to check if his blackmail actually worked.

On the other hand, going to the gargoyle would be a trap. Bruce would most likely have put cameras or worse awaiting him. Bruce had also seen him, which meant if Batman was looking for the kid as first priority, he had a good chance of finding him. Tim had been lucky enough that Bruce didn’t recognize him from some gala or another.

Then again, Tim looked much more professional when he went to galas. He practically was running with his own superman style disguise.

A ping on his phone notified him that Batman’s comms were active.

Tim plugged in his earbud so he could listen in one ear.

“Priorities” Alfred was admonishing,

“That’s why I'm dealing with the bust first.” 

Tim heard a crunch and a congruent scream.

“I’ll be done here in minutes.” Batman growled.

A gunshot went off in the distance.

“Five o'clock, focus”

Tim heard the familiar whizz as Bruce threw a batarang. A muffled shout followed.

Tim turned about to find his spare backpack.

He had enough bandages for a few wounds, the suture kit was half full, but there were no spare burners.

Tim pulled on a sweater. The goons had better have brought their phones.

Tim tapped the kitchen floor four times ‘heading out’.

Three taps in response ‘I’m home’

That was how it was sometimes. Steph and Tim weren’t attached at the hip. They had separate lives, and separate problems. They could almost live without acknowledging each other. However, five months ago Tim stitched up Steph after she lost a fight in an alleyway. After following each other home, they realised it might be nice to have someone know if you disappeared one night.

They met up on the balcony and talked sometimes.

Took the same bus in the morning.

If you squinted, it might almost look like a friendship.

You know, if both friends were ridiculously cagey about revealing why they were out in the first place.

Tim hoisted himself up onto the nearby building. 

Smart people wouldn’t be practising their long jump by jumping from one building to the next, but Tim argued he would rather chance death by falling than chance death from muggers. Gotham may be more gentle than her inhabitants in that regard.

He still needed to drop down to the streets for major intersections, but it was faster.

The scene was… consistent with last year's aftermath. 

The first goon was still groaning at least.

A flashlight in his eyes confirmed a concussion.

There was at least a broken nose. His wrist was bent in a way it really never should have. 

Tim grabbed some debris to act as a splint.

His ears hurt. Tim wondered if his lungs would scream as loud if Batman caught him.

The next goon wasn’t awake, his pulse racing, but palpable. The man shivered. Tim put on a pair of gloves and turned him. A green powder covered his face; Concentrated fear gas. Friendly fire even. Man, it must suck to work for Crane. It wasn’t like Tim had an antidote, so he moved on.

One building over, the man laid numbly. He nodded in response to Tim's shouting. Nodded in response to being hurt. Nodded in responce to his leg. Tim looked, a batarang was still lodged into his thigh.

He shook his head in response to the ambulance. Ok then.

Tim did his best to stitch the guy back together. Sure he wasn’t a doctor, but it wasn’t his first rodeo, or tenth for that matter. Oh, the things to add to his crime alley resume.

Holding goon # 3s phone, he tested each finger against the scanner until one of them, finally led him to a home screen. 

He typed in a familiar number.

Tim withdrew.

The phone rang three times before Jim answered.

“Hello?” he sounded as if Tim had just pulled him out of sleep. 

“This is Alvin. I’m at Third and Rosser, by Ninoots Bakery. There’s three. One's got a concussion and a broken wrist, one's got fear gas. I just stitched up the third.”

“Hold it, kid?”

“That's all.”

Tim heard a resigned sigh as Tim hung up the phone. 

He knew reasonably, that it wouldn’t change anything if the police did manage to trace his call before he finished talking. It wasn’t like it was his phone.

Why risk it?

Tim paused as he realised the bat-comms had been silent for a while.

Tim spun around. There was no one visible, but something was off.

Tim dropped the phone and started to run. He could make it to the next building. From there Batman would have to leave the shadows to follow him.

“Wait! Alvin!” The tone was a little off from Batman's usual grumble.

He emerged from behind one of the industrial vents.

Too late. Tim was already jumping the distance between the buildings.

Tim turned to face the dark knight.

“300. The gargoyle. Medical supplies aren’t cheap.”

Tim wouldn’t usually have a chance to sneak away, but the GCPD must have been nearby. Three cars pulled up and police piled out.

Bruce looked away for a moment. Taking the chance, Tim dropped to the next fire escape over. 

He joined a group of children sneaking away from the disturbance before slipping towards home.

Chapter Text

Bruce stared at the corrupted video.

“Did you see anything, Alfred?”

The older man just shook his head.

He lost the kid again.

He turned to the selection of photos Alvin had left behind. Shots of Batman fighting. Images of injured goons, a typed list of injuries obtained from the batman over the last week. They didn’t reveal Bruce's identity, no the criminal had left a child, (ten?, twelve?) to do that.

The crook seemed to have thought if they sent a child, the kid wouldn’t be in danger. He wasn’t wrong, it almost made it worse.

It did get worse though.

The child wasn’t just sent for a one-off visit to Batman's lair. He was on the streets at night, patching up dangerous criminals when he should be sleeping. He was running around during the day when he should be in school, learning the Pythagorean theorem or whatever they taught. 

Alvin relayed the information to the mastermind like clockwork. This was normal. Someone had a log of every injury Batman had inflicted. It didn’t matter how reasonable the damage was each night. If someone published a list, broken bones would start to add up. This was dangerous. Someone that manipulative, in control of a kid…

Then the kid disappeared.

Bruce rushed back to his cameras in the cave. The camera he had set up showed a feed of nothing. He backtracked; it wasn't even sending feed anymore. It was safe to say the bait money had been taken. 

Bruce swiveled to look at a screen showing a tracker's movements. It showed a ping. Right by the gargoyle. 

He looked at Alfred, who was polishing the silverware two chairs over.

“What's the likelihood it's past Barbra’s bedtime?” he asked

The older man raised an eyebrow. “It’s past your bedtime, Master Bruce”

He looked at the clock. 4 am. 

It’s not like it matters , he thought. Every hour was another hour this child was stuck in the hands of a criminal. Another kid who cared; cared enough to look after thugs when they no longer held a threat, hidden among Gotham too well for Bruce to have noticed so far.

He was going to fail another child.

He left the computer to run facial recognition on one of the neglected security cameras that hadn’t had their memory wiped.

The training mats had never been so solitary.

He felt his adopted father's disapproving gaze as he slammed his fists into a punching bag.

He heard an echo of a thump, like the one on patrol. The boy's voice followed ‘a concussion and a broken wrist’ his next punch faltered. He could hear the echo of Leslie's voice, describing the injuries on his son’s body. The next punch glanced off the side of the bag.

Alfred, always the one to catch his changing moods rested a hand on his shoulder.

“You can sleep in the med bay, my boy.”

Bruce turned, about to protest, but he caught sight of a wrinkle of worry, hovering between his butler's eyebrow.

He couldn’t ignore that. Instead, he let himself be guided towards the cots. He could hear the computer from here, he bargained. That would have to be enough.

The morning did not start with a notification that a match had been found.

Bruce stared at the screen.

Nothing.

Like he hadn’t even tried to find the boy.

Bruce backtracked to find the picture he had been using. 

Gone.

Alfred appeared on the stairs.

“If the program has finished I suggest you come up for lunch.” 

Bruce turned to stare.

“I’ll be up after a quick call,” he mumbled.

Alfred’s only response was a raised eyebrow.

Barbra picked up the third time Bruce punched in her number.

“If you haven’t forgotten I’m not Batgirl anymore.”

“Hmm.”

“I’ve had to hack your comms just for updates” 

“Hrn.”

“This will be the third time you’ve asked this month.”

“There's a kid.”

“And I’m not an adoption agency.”

“Someone hacked the Batcave.”

Barbra didn’t have a response.

“Can you trace it?”

There was a cackle.

“Is that a challenge?” Bruce realised he was going to regret this.

“Let’s call it a test.”

“I want Batcave access.”

“I can let you in, so you can take a look.”

“No. B. If you keep asking for help, I want permanent access.”

“Hmm.” 

“It's a deal then.”

“I’ll let Alfred know.”

“See ya later, broody Bruice.”

Bruce was really going to regret this.

He turned to see Alfred waiting for him.

“You know I’m almost impressed,” he said opening the door to the elevator, “you actually reached out.”

Chapter Text

He did it.

Tim wasn’t quite sure what you were supposed to feel when you successfully blackmail a crime-fighting billionaire, but he didn’t really think exhaustion fit the mold. He would have to bring it up in the next criminal support group he attended. You know, in Blackgate . It was already haunting his dreams.

Two nights post-blackmail Tim had been forced to keep his laptop powered down, and his nightlife minimal. Things had almost gone wrong. He had noticed another hacker had been on the cave data while erasing everything. It had been fine on the night of, but the next day when Tim got on it became obvious they were uncovering his tracks. 

Everything was slowed to a crawl. No more bat-comms. He cautiously purchased more supplies off of a surplus website, since being untraceable had been outweighed by being broke.

The rest went to ramen noodles- from the same surplus site. 

Steph had stopped by conveniently in time to watch the unboxing. Tim made a show of revealing the noodles so he could shove the bandages away, during the distraction. It almost worked. Tim was thankful she had pretended it had, since explaining night activities was not on the agenda. 

A stomach growl reminded him that eating was.

With supper decided Steph declared that she would introduce him to a life-changing combination: Ramen with peanut butter. The mixture was salty, smooth, rich- and had 200% of your daily sodium intake. Tim was sold.

He looked at his neighbour, who was sitting across from him in smug victory. ‘I told you it’s good’ was written across her face. Tim wanted to argue, but he was enjoying the meal too much to say anything.

Steph looked more rested than she usually did. 

Her shoulders slumped in a way that said she wasn’t trying to hide an injury beneath her bravado. 

“My mom’s on sick leave.” Steph declared as she put down her finished bowl, “I’ve been stuck at home a few nights just to make sure everythings… you know. Can’t sneak out though.” 

Oh. Things started to make sense.

“Anyways,” Steph continued, “I told her I was spending the night with you. Problem solved and all that.”

“That's the reason you stopped by.” Tim nodded.

Steph beamed.

“Exactly! Oh. Are you heading out tonight?”

Tim shrugged. 

“Probably not, unless things get interesting.”

“Then I might stop by again if things go wrong.” Steph smiled

Tim nodded. The company would be nice, if he was about to be stuck inside.

Steph walked out on the balcony.

“I’ll let you know if I’m dead, anyways!” she declared before jumping to climb onto the balcony above.

Tim listened to the clatter. He wondered if he was that loud as he snuck around gotham. It wasn’t safe, if stealth was what she was going for.

He turned his eyes back to the laptop. Nope. 

He used his phone to get into the police scanners. The familiar buzz of reports faded into the background. He looked around his worn-down apartment for something else to distract him from the laptop he would not be using. 

His eyes flicked to a copy of Pride and Prejudice he had brought from the mansion. He never actually read it. One night he had heard Robin give Batman a lecture on how Darcy was more emotionally stable than the Dark Knight. The next time Tim saw the book in stores he bought it out of curiosity. That was as far as he got. Especially now, since Jason was, you know…

“There has been an Arkham escape. I repeat. There has been an Arkham escape. Twoface is at large last seen three hours ago, headed toward Somerset. He is armed, and not alone. Proceed with caution.”

Tim's eyes flashed to the window. A familiar beacon was in the sky. 

Ok. He didn’t have a choice. He had to get into the bat-comms for this.

Five minutes later Tim was on the roof.

He almost didn’t need to listen in to follow the main search route. The flashing red and blue was so concentrated it practically made the sky glow. The foreground was highlighted by the last rays of sun. Tim took an extra moment with his camera. This was the breath of Gotham.

The comm cracked in his ear.

“B. Don’t worry about it. I’ll check the footage.”

Wait, who was that?

“Hrn.”

“Got it. The guards just slumped over. Three men in security uniforms approached the cell and let him out. They waltzed up to a security van and made their escape,” that was a familiar voice. It wouldn't be her, she was declared inactive.

“Hmm.”

“You gotta say it, B.”

“Good job, Batgirl.”

“Not Batgirl anymore but I’ll take it. Hurry up, Jim's waiting for you.”

Cool. No wait, not cool. Batgirl was a hacker. Was she that hacker? The one he was hiding from? He couldn’t out-hack her. Did he have to blackmail Batgirl next? 

His phone dinged a notification.

“Rouge escape. 4 Guards found dead.” 

Right, because bigger things were happening than covering up blackmail.

Hackers could wait. 

He had a rouge to find.

Chapter Text

Some people say trouble comes in threes.

Gothamites prefer to say trouble comes in swarms. Tim supposed he just walked into the hive. Or perhaps the hive was there all along, Tim just didn’t notice it.

He had a simple objective; find Twoface. In theory, that would mean getting in position before Batman got there. That way Batman couldn’t take him by surprise, and he would have the chance to get in some great shots before the fight was over. 

Tim had stalked Twoface before. It wasn’t easy, per se, but Tim figured he understood more of the rouge than most. The man hardly worked alone, loved to get his hands dirty, and hated taking orders. 

If three goons broke into prison and he left without any extra fight, it was planned by Twoface. 

The man also had trust issues to rival the Bat.

It made him volatile.

One conspiracy theorist had suggested an alien life form attaching himself to the damaged brain resulting in two personalities.

A few people suggested DID. 

Tim disagreed. Harvey was Harvey, no matter which side of the coin you got. A person's personality is formed before adulthood and is too concrete to split after that.

Harvey in his attorney days was dedicated and brutal. He was expected to rise up and change the world for better and he did everything he could to live up to that.

It became a part of him.

Those expectations were destroyed in the explosion. Harvey left the hospital with his whole world blown apart. His matching coin gave him an anchor. If no one knew what he would do, it might as well be up to the flip of a coin. He flipped the coin again and again. It wasn’t healthy. No. It was an obsession. Harvey didn’t have to choose whether to let loose on the world or not. The coin did it for him. He could just… act.

Batman probably already knew this. The big question was would Batman be able to get the man back into Arkham without getting a bad coin toss. If he couldn’t, releasing an army of penguin-shaped drones as a quick attempt to frame the Penguin for breaking the neutrality of Iceberg lounge, would be a lucky break.

Tims's previous excursions gave him a leg up. He knew Twoface didn’t have one base. He had two; Doubles Donuts on Second Street, and a worn-down lawyer's office no actual customers would dare bring money to.

Tim bet they would go to the lawyer's office so long as there were no explosions. Batman would no doubt find his way there, even if he had to take a detour to the donut front first.

The search party in the distance was slowly creeping closer to both locations as the sirens spread out further into the city.

The police scanners continued to find nothing.

Tim finally reached the lawyers office.

The lights were on as usual. Tim sat still, camera zoomed on an open window. The evening air was sinking into his sweater. Tim always felt Gotham grew heavier as the night drew on. Shadows darkened, shoulders slumped more and more, like an inescapable weight of all that was rested on Gothams inhabitants.

Batman was late.

Or maybe he wasn’t.

Tim hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Twoface. The sickening feeling that Tim had missed something on his two day break from casual hacking grew.

Impatient, tim climbed off his perch and snuck towards the window. Hearing nothing, he approached the window. Still nothing.

Tim shimmied the latch open and snuck inside.

There were no voices.

He approached the desk and found an old landline. There was a voicemail. 

Tim debated the consequences a moment before giving in and selecting review messages.

The message was scrambled, but essentially good and normal lost the coin toss. Goons were regrouping at ‘DD’, where two face was preparing a ‘show’.

Tim had been wrong. 

He scrambled his way out of the window, skipping the rooftops and lending himself to Gothams shadows. 

He would have rather used the rooftops, but there was too little time. He witnessed three separate drug deals and he swore he watched killer croc drag something into the sewers. 

His batcomms buzzed again. 

“Security cameras show a black SUV with two of the suspects turning onto second street.

“Any destinations?” Batman asked the whizz of a grapple gun in the background. 

There was a pause on the line.

“Try Double’s Donuts. There's no security cameras on the block, but their last delivery was not baking supplies.”

“ETA 3 minutes” 

Tim was running out of time. Or rather, he already had. The best he could do was make it in ten minutes. There would be no set up time, no surveying the layout.

Tim was dropping in blind.

He really wished the show was just a bootleg broadway production.

He ran across an intersection, ignoring the horns blaring. 

His lungs ached.

His feet were heavy.

“Twoface spotted.”

Of course things weren’t going his way.

Tim listened to the sounds of falling bodies over his earbud.

Fortunately there was less screaming. Maybe Bruce was finally letting up.

He was there.

“Harvey.” Batman rumbled in his earpiece.

Tim found his way into the building. Three slumped men were at the door. They didn’t look battered.

Tim snuck past the fryers.

“Batman,” he heard from the back door. “Didn’t you see the sign, we’re closed”

“Four men died tonight. I need you to come with me.”

“And you are guilty of breaking and entering. Why don’t you join us in Arkham?”

He peered around the corner to see Batman slowly approaching an armed Twoface.

“You don’t want this Harvey.” Batman was saying.

“What do you think, should we bring you in?” 

Twoface tossed his coin. The golden shine dances upwards as Batman took on a defensive stance.

It made a good picture if nothing else.

The coin landed in the rouges hand.

Two face smiled.

“It looks like we’ll leave that for another day.” the ‘Harvey’ half looked relieved

“B you've got company three feet back and to the left. Orphan protocol.” Batgirl declared into the comms

In that split second Twoface noticed Bruces distraction, and used it to hit something on the desk. 

A grey smoke poured into the room. Bruce lunged to grab the man. The man grabbed his gun and shot at random, not even looking to aim. Bullets rang into the room. One stay landed six inches to the left of Tims head.

Batman jerked his head. Making eye contact with Tim, before barreling towards him.

Tim didn’t have a chance to escape. 

He should have probably been thankful Batman was acting as an impromptu shield against accidental fire.

However, the one thing Tim saw beyond the rapidly approaching figure was the silhouette of Twoface, backing away, still firing at random into the smoke.

Chapter Text

So Tim was in a tight spot.

He supposed he shouldn’t complain too much. He made that tight spot, but it didn’t seem to make things any better.

Evidently when choosing between catching a rogue actively shooting everything, and catching a blackmailer Batman chose the blackmailer.

What's one more crazed gunman in Gotham? 

No, the real threat that needed to be apprehended was the 13-year-old with a camera, who practised first aid without a certificate. Actually, that did sound a little concerning.

What was more dumb was hearing a ‘well done’ from Alfred over the comms as Bruce carried Tim's squirming body to the batmobile.

He didn’t even get to sit up front. No. He was shoved in the back with the child lock on. That's when you know you’re being taken seriously. 

Bruce settled in the front and turned to look at him.

“Alvin.”

Tim looked up to see Batman staring at him, back to the windshield. Oh, right. Autopilot.

“What.” nope, too rude, “Sir”

“I need you to answer some questions.”

“Wow, B, way to make a kid comfortable.” batgirl snarked

Tim smiled.

Bruce gave him a look.

“How long have you been on the comms?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Wayne” Tim might be pouting, sue him.

Batgirl cackled

Batman sighed in a way that was a little too Bruce.

“Are you injured?”

“I’m better off than most of the criminals that cross you.”

“Have you been shot?”

Oh, that almost sounded like concern.

“No, sir.”

Relief flowed out of Batman's shoulders.

Of course, batman would want to know if he was about to get blood on his backseat.

The shadows of Gotham were replaced with a dimly lit tunnel. A knot squirmed in Tim's stomach. He wasn’t sure if it was excitement about being in the cave or apprehension about testing out the bat cells.

The end of the drive came faster than what Tim needed to sort his feelings out.

At least they would feed him in Batjail.

They wouldn’t charge rent either.

Maybe he should have let himself get caught earlier.

Batman hoisted him up with one hand. Tim braced himself for the sterile white of the confinement cells. 

Instead, he landed on something soft. Tim looked down- an office chair. Tim looked up, batman had removed his cowl to reveal a more somber version of Brucie Wayne.

Tim looked to his right, where a computer was running facial recognition, again.

Tim didn’t know how to approach this situation, he usually snuck away from interrogations. It may be a little similar to galas though.

Bruce was watching him with intent.

Tim took a deep breath. If his cover was about to be blown, he might as well do it himself.

“I think we started on the wrong foot,” Tim let the bristol accent drip from his voice, “My name is Timothy Drake, nice to meet you.”

Bruce did nothing but continue to stare. A snort alerted Tim of another presence. That was Gordon's daughter, wasn’t it? 

Gordon's daughter, in the Batcave, on the computers. 

“Batgirl?”

She smiled.  

“Nice to meet you, hacker mini, but I’m not Batgirl anymore.”

“Oh, ok. So it's Barbara then.”

She looked at Batman.

“This is definitely the short side of your blackmail problem. What now?”

Bruce looked at him with a gaze that really didn't tell Tim anything.

“Your parents were archaeologists right?”

That made Tim blink. He knew his parent's accident made a splash, but enough that Batman would remember him?

He gave a nod.

“Where is your uncle right now?”

Normally Tim would have an answer, ‘at home’, or ‘at work’, or ‘stuck in traffic, you know how the bridges get’. Normally no one had the time or resources to check. Batman didn’t even have the time to check, he was just ignoring normal human priorities in favour of interrogating him about his life. If Tim did just throw out a usual line, no doubt Batman had every intention to follow up on it.

The longer Tim hesitated, the deeper the worry lines on Batman’s face became.

“Why did you blackmail me?”

Oh. this one was easy. He had already explained it.

“Bandages are expensive.” he shrugged, “I’m already spread thin with rent, and groceries. I figured you could take it since you caused most of  the injuries or whatever.”

“And your ‘partner’?”

Now that wasn’t a lie Tim wanted to blow quite yet. Plausible deniability and all that. Tim just shrugged.

Another Bruce-like sigh came from his interrogator.

Alfred appeared in the corner of his vision. 

“I think it’s late enough that we should take this child to bed.” Alfred suggested, because of course he did, he was the best of them all, “Do you want the adoption papers now or in the office?”

Bruce seemed to ignore the quip.

“I’ll give Dick a call.”

“Indeed” was the only response the butler gave, as he herded Tim to the elevator.

Chapter Text

Stephanie had always believed that she would be the one to disappear first.

Her dad would be out of prison all too early.

The street fights were a horrible idea by every account, it was only a matter of time before someone took things too far. Honestly, that scarred her, but if her mom was going to spend her money on drugs, someone had to get groceries.

She was getting better.

More people were betting on her.

She was taking in more, bit by bit. All she had to do was keep lying about her age, and stop by Tim’s if things went south.

Until the ninja showed up.

The girl didn’t talk. Didn’t even sign up before stepping into the ring. 

She was too fast, too efficient. 

The first time Steph faced her she didn’t spend a minute standing.

Steph wouldn't have minded as much if Orphan (as the ring called her) was bigger or more imposing. But no Orphan was short and slight. Imagine losing every night to a shrimp.

Whether it was a good thing or not, Steph held a grudge against the girl. 

Orphan didn’t seem to share the same opinion, if Steph didn’t know better she would almost say Orphan enjoyed fighting with Steph.

Their matches gradually became longer. Steph continued to lose though.

The girl would save fighting her for last, Steph would get a few good hits in, and then she would inevitably find her face pushed into the dirt.

The two would leave the ring, and Orphan would follow Steph as she worked her way into a cool-down set. Sometime during Steph’s walk home Orphan would disappear and Steph would be stuck wondering if she and Tim were cut from the same cloth. Stealthy freaks.

Steph returned to her apartment, tossing a baseball at her ceiling three times. 

No response.

That wasn’t too weird, the friendly neighbourhood medic must have heard something, after all. 

Steph lay on her bed waiting to hear her neighbour return.

Sometime during the night, she must have fallen asleep.

She woke up groggy and shoved some food into her backpack.

Tim wasn’t on the bus. Not to school, not home from school.

Steph threw the baseball against the ceiling three times again once returning. Silence was all that echoed back.

She looked around. Her mother was sleeping on the couch.

Home free then.

Sneaking into Tim's apartment was easy, mostly because ‘balcony’ was just a fancy term for rusted-out fire escape where the ladders between were broken.

The apartment was empty.

Most everything was the same as when Steph had left the night before.

She peered around. Unsurprisingly, the med bag was gone. 

Steph never really expected this to happen. Tim was stealthy. He ran around fixing people up. If his night activities were what she thought they were, no one would want to get him to stop.

What could she even do? Tim had insisted that if anything happened she could not call authorities.

Batman.

He didn’t count, did he?

Steph didn’t particularly trust Batman, but Tim did, so it would be alright.

She headed out of the apartment. She could skip fighting tonight, her friend was worth that much.

Orphan found her on the rooftop.

Steph half expected to get lunged at, but instead she just tilted her head with a questioning glance. 

“I’m not fightin today. My friends missing”

The girl moved to stand next to Steph. It gave a good view of the street, but there was no way you could recognize anyone from up here.

Steph almost felt compelled to explain more.

“There's this vigilante. Batman. Comes out at night. Beats up thugs. He might have an idea, but I kinda have to find him first.”

Orphan was practically beaming.

“Wait. Do you?”

Orphan took that as permission and began to drag Steph across the roof. Whatever. Fighting rivalry aside, Steph realised she felt safe being dragged to an unknown location by this girl. Might as well see where it ends.

Orphan, evidently, was the sort of ninja who just knew how to find a vigilante so secretive, they didn’t have pictures of him.

Batman was swinging onto a rooftop talking to someone who wasn’t there.

“Any leads?” the man grumbled. “He said he ‘had a job to do’ earlier today.”

The bat was honest-to-goodness pacing.

Steph was about to step out, but Orphan pulled her back behind the rooftop access.

Batman stopped listening to something in his ear.

“ETA five minutes.”

Batman swung away.

“What was that?” Steph hissed to the ninja.

The ninja just nodded as if to say 'go after him'.

Steph tried.

Not having a grappling line didn’t help, but the pair climbed down onto the streets, running to keep up with the vigilante. 

Steph froze.

One block ahead Batman dropped down in front of a kid with a familiar-looking backpack. The kid turned around to walk away. Batman called after him. Tim picked up the speed. A blur sprang from between the building and tackled Tim to the ground. Batman nodded. The blur who looked vaguely like that Bludhaven guy, stood up Tim in his arms and followed Batman. 

Steph unfroze and tried to run after them, but they reached the fabled batmobile and jumped in, Tim and all.

Tim was kidnapped by Batman.

Tim couldn’t fight. He was just a scrawny kid who was lucky the kids in high school didn’t use him as a punching bag.

No one would believe her if she told anyone.

That meant no one would come to his aide. 

No one but Steph. 

She looked to see Orphan waiting two steps behind her. 

Whatever, Steph always wondered if she could fight the Bat.

Chapter Text

If you want to know why Tim found himself tackled in a Nightwing style embrace. Tim would have to go back to the morning.

The soft duvet, the lazy morning air, and the sudden realization that he had a shift at the greenhouse today.

Batman didn’t seem to care about the shift, hadn’t even asked when he was arrested? (not in a cell)… kidnapped? (you don’t kidnap criminals)… apprehended.

Unfortunately, Tim liked his job. They almost paid him minimum wage, they gave him the hours that worked for both school and his night runs. 

Tim was almost certain they were smuggling something, but they hadn’t asked him to do anything sketchy so far. You know, besides getting paid under the table. Tim needed that though.

Bruce seemed to be intent on pretending that Tim had always been haunting the walls.

Tim brought up school, only to be shushed and told he needed some time to rest. School would be there tomorrow. Tim argued it was there today, but that only seemed to amuse the dark knight.

The next surprise was Dick, who arrived in a flurry of well meaning smiles and offers to show Tim  around. Tim wanted to say he could figure it out on his own, but when Tim backed away Dick looked so devastated . Tim acquiesced. The only person Dick didn’t seem to be showering with corny jokes and clingy contact was Bruce.

Bruce settled to look forlornly at his son from a distance.

It would have been funny if it happened once or twice. Nope, Bruce managed to do it in every single hallway. It was sad.

In the end, it became Tim's tactical advantage. Both the tour and the dynamic duos… dynamics. 

Tim found three workable escape routes, and the perfect trigger for a distraction.

Tim decided to try once more before going to extremes. 

He approached the subject as Alfred served wraps.

“You know I have a life right?”

Alfred raised his eyebrow.

“I’ve got school, friends, I also have a job to do.” Tim waited for a reaction, there was none. “Actually I go there like, every Monday Tuesday.” Tim was oversharing; he knew, “They trust me.” Tim wasn’t sure if Bruce had breathed the whole time Tim was talking. “They would be a little disappointed if I was a no-show. I-I don’t like disappointing people.”

“Oh Tim–” Dick looked like he was going to cry, or smother him. Maybe both.

“And where is this job?” Bruce asked

Pop quiz: when Batman asks the location of a place that has been illegally providing you the finances to live, do you: a) give it to him b) tell him it's not his business or c) give the name of the competitor.

“Silver leaf, it’s a greenhouse a little off bowery.”

Bruce raised his eyebrow.

“And can you call in?”

Right. Tim shook his head. Of course, he couldn’t. He didn’t work there. He didn’t even know that greenhouse much except his boss had declared the whole lot lowlifes.

Alfred placed the last plate on the table signaling that the discussion finished in favour of eating. It wasn’t like Tim would argue. Dick took the time sitting to prod about hobbies, Tim mentioned he liked photography, which led to Dick dragging him back into the Batcave where his backpack had been discarded. 

Dick managed to pretend not to care about the suture kit as Tim produced the camera.

Dick flipped through the images as Tim explained that the small digital screen didn’t properly reflect the images since this camera wasn’t exactly top of the line by today's standards. The only response that earned was a hair ruffle with the mumbled ‘you got talent kid’

“Some talent. Look at where it got me, arrested by batman.”

Dicks hand froze.

“What?”

“That's what I’m doing here. Just waiting for Bruce to figure out how to put me in juvie without spilling the beans.”

Dick twisted his body so he could look into Tim's eyes better. They were angry.

“Excuse me?” his eyes searched Tim's face for some sign of being a joke. 

Did he really not know? Thought Tim.

“Give me a moment. I need to go talk.”

Of course this was the opportunity Tim needed to make a break for it. His bus pass was back in his apartment, so Tim settled in for the long walk home. Avoiding cameras as much as he could since he would prefer it if Barbara didn’t track him down till his shift was over.

He almost made it. 

Really it was foolish to get his hopes up.

Batman dropped down in front of him.

“Tim.”

Tim turned away.

“Tim, you don’t understand. They’re a trafficking ring I don't care what you've been forced into, but I can't let you go back there.” 

Good thing I don’t work there , Tim thought, picking up pace.

Turns out that was a bad idea. They say if you ever meet a mountain lion, don’t run, that triggers the chase. Turns out Nightwing runs on the same principles.  

So back to the Batmobile, Nightwings hugs, and the heavy feeling that Tim wasn’t about to get out as easily next time.

Steph was going to notice if things kept up like this.

Tim settled in for the ride.

On to plan two.

Chapter Text

Tim wished he had a plan 2, no, Tim wished he had a good plan 2. A moderately questionable plan 2 would have been fine.

The current plan 2 involved hacking the batmobile's autopilot to work as a diversion as Barbara tried to keep track of the batmobile. Tim had the feeling he wasn’t about to be trusted near anything that could lead to an escape, including the batmobile.

So plan 2 was missing something. Fixing plan 2 would take time, and time was all it would take For Batman to make the manor Drake-proof.

Really, what Tim needed was a plan 3.

Nightwing was very consciously not releasing Tim from his grip

For the whole ride back,

Through the Batcave,

Up the stairs,

Through the halls of the manor,

To the window

Onto the windowsill

Swinging from the window onto the roof on the manor, upside down

Tim stared in horror when Dick released him. He thought he was about to die. This man was so diabolical he only let him loose when there was no way Tim could safely escape.

“No one can hear us from here.” Was that a threat? “Can you tell me what's going on?”

Oh, a proper interrogation this time.

“I” Tim was fresh out of excuses for how he ended up working at a trafficking ring, “I don’t work at the silver leaf,” he admitted.

Nightwings eyes softened. Maybe Tim could use this. Garner affection and sympathy, convince the softest captor to let him go. 

“I can’t get hired legally. I like my job. I was trying-” Tim let his voice get wet, “trying to protect them.”

Dick looked like someone had just made him watch  the Robin mantle get lit on fire.

“What makes you think Batman would hurt them?”

“Have you seen Batman recently?” Tim burst, “I know, I know you’ve got bludhaven now, but Batman is getting worse. People are getting more injured for pettier crimes. My medical supplies costs have grown exponentially in the last year. Tell me right now that Bruce Wayne will not track down a company hiring preteens under the table and shut it down.”

Dick sighed

“But you shouldn’t have to…”

“And eight year olds shouldn’t have to hunt down their parents' killer!” 

Tim froze. He had just yelled at his kidnapper. Drakes don’t argue , his mom's voice whispered they change the game . He needed to fix this. 

“Billionaires shouldn’t need to dress up as Bats and beat up criminals to make the streets safer. Children shouldn’t have to carry rebreathers on their way home from school. Honestly. Every single person in Gotham deals with the mess of a few criminals that shouldn’t be on the streets. Do you really believe I should leave thugs to bleed out, just because I shouldn’t have to fix them up? Leave worrying about what other people shouldn’t have to do to the people who have power to change it. Let me just-” Tim faltered, “let me just deal with the hand I’ve got.”

Maybe not the best ending to a villainous monologue. At least it didn’t end with ‘come to the dark side’ or anything so blatant.

Dicks only response was an embrace. Another one.

It was only during the hug that Tim realised dick was still dressed as nightwing. He even had his comms in his ears.

‘No one can hear us’ ya right. Tim would be lucky if Bruce didn’t declare Dick compromised. 

Tim didn’t know how long they sat up there.

He didn’t know how he got down.

Frankly he didn't know how he ended up in that same room. Again. However, he did remember waking up in the same bed, still unrestrained. 

Normally he would let himself grump, but he needed to make sure Dick wasn’t stuck in some interrogation chamber as Bruce figured out what to do with his compromised son.

He sped down the hallway, half aware of Alfreds ever present gaze.

The breakfast table revealed an exhausted looking Bruce Wayne, with a newspaper. Where do you even get those? Tim wondered. Right. Tim had a mission. He looked around for traces of the resident acrobat. Nothing.

“Where’s Dick?”, he asked trying to sound casual

“Something came up.” was the slightly-too-batman reply. 

Oh no. Tim had been right. He was always right when he didn’t want to. What could he do?

Drakes change the game.

“I think it's time to renegotiate the blackmail terms.” Tim said, smothering his fear. 

Was he in a place to negotiate? Nope. Was he going to play his cards as if he did? Sure. What's another bluff in among so many?

Chapter Text

Alfred liked to believe he was one of the most understanding people. 

Hey, he raised his son/employer and watched him turn into a vigilante with a penchant for collecting kids.

Alfred didn’t want to count the number of times he had overheard Barbra explain that she had parents and that didn’t stop the emergency adoption papers from being filed in the safe.

He watched his son grieve in all the wrong ways, and heal in ways no one would call sane.

The current child situation was possibly crossing a line.

The kid didn’t want to be here.

He didn’t trust Bruce within a 2 metre radius. He found every excuse to leave. 

There was no proof of abuse for Bruce to lean onto the only concern was that it appeared no one was ensuring he stayed safe. 

The kid didn’t even feel safe; at least not here. 

‘Arrested by batman’ ‘Trying to protect them’

Every time Tim opened his mouth it was painfully clear that the only reason why Tim was here was force. At least Jason didn’t have anywhere else to go, this kid seems insistent that he does. 

Alfred approached Bruce after the boys had gone to bed

“You need to have a frank conversation with the young master.” 

“Hmm”

“Master Tim will never settle if you keep him without explanation. You already know he’s drawing the wrong conclusions.”

“Hmm.”

“You know Master Dick is going to break him out if you don’t get things under control.”

Bruce looked up at him with  wide eyes. 

At least some logic got through. 

Morning came faster than anyone would have preferred. Alfred watched the newest member of the household make a beeline for the breakfast table. At least the food in the manor was trusted.

Of course Alfred listened.

The words ‘negotiate’ and ‘terms’ were tossed around.

Bruce tried to explain his concern.

Tim treated it like it was a custody battle. (It was a custody battle, wasn’t it)

The end arrangement was… stilted.

Tim would stay until someone would come looking for him, with the exception of school. Once released the blackmail amount would double and Bruce would leave him alone, as long as Tim managed to stay away from dangerous situations. 

Alfred had a feeling they would need to have a chat about the definition of dangerous sooner or later since neither negotiating parties were particularly good at avoiding it. 

Nightwing was to be released from any restrictions he was currently under. The younger negotiator added. Bruce was surprised but more than happy to agree. 

All in all both parties looked satisfied by the time Alfred decided it was time to reveal himself with a side of french toast.

The child happily shoveled it down and allowed himself to be chauffeured to school.

Bruce looked on with a contented expression that had been missing for far too long.

Dick woke up. Explained he had a night shift and left for Bludhaven, after a strongly worded warning towards the master of the house. 

“Are you alright with letting the child go, if someone retrieves him?” Alfred asked

“The uncle is fake.”

“So you don’t intend to let him go.”

“I haven’t found the ‘partner’ yet.”

“And Master Tim is not safe until he is apprehended.”

Bruce grunted in agreement. 

Tim was chauffeured home again.

Supper was started. 

The boy slipped down towards the Batcave while ‘Brucie’ Wayne had a virtual board meeting. 

No former spy trusts the quiet.

No former Parent trusts stillness in a house.

It felt like the Manor was chewing on his shoulder blades.

He would check in soon. He just needed to finish up a few things in the kitchen. It would be alright for that long. Right?

Chapter Text

Tim had to get out. He swore Gotham would get lonely if he didn’t come to bother her, and Tim didn’t want that.

He wished again that Steph went to the same school. At least that way he could inform her to retrieve him.

School, at least, was normal.

He would have to wave goodbye to any hopes of working for the time being. That had somehow landed on the danger list. Tim decided not to ask about his night activities. It was better not to know, plausible deniability and all that.

The closest he got to leaving was the Batcave. Tim knew there were tunnels leading all over the city.

He just wouldn’t use them, for Dicks sake at least.

He knew Alfred was making something delicious, might as well enjoy the upsides to his current… living arrangements. 

An alarm began blaring from the computer. 

Intruder Alert flashed across the screen of the west entrance.

Tim tensed. He wouldn’t exactly call himself an ally of the bat, but he suspected he wouldn’t get the chance to explain that.

Anyone who had found a way to infiltrate the Batcave was dangerous.

Tim fumbled around on the computers until he found the security footage.

His eyes could be tricking him. Tim hadn’t even allowed himself to think of this option. Steph was approaching steadily with an unknown girl.

Tim quickly turned off the alarm.

Wait. They knew Batman's secrets too? Bruce would never be ok with that. He might have said he would let Tim go, but he never said anything about the searching party.

He frantically looked around the cave, looking for a plan. His eyes landed on the unmistakable bulk of the batmobile.

Tim had always liked plan 2.

Stephanie practically tackled him. Scratch that. She did tackle him. Tim had long suspected that Steph didn’t even know how to give affection in a normal way. The only thing that kept him from saying it, was that he was in the same boat.

Addicts and archaeologists evidently had one thing in common. It took priority. No matter how much they cared for their children it never came on top. 

That was why Tim and Steph seemed to get along so well. They both were just guessing on how to show care. 

It was also probably why getting tackled felt more safe than tim had felt in a long time.

“How in the world did you manage to get kidnapped by Batman?” Steph sounded angry

“Blackmail.” Tim mumbled, poking his probably bruised ribs.

Steph stared at him in horror.

“What?” Tim asked a little defensively, “It's not like he can’t afford it.”

“And I thought you were a genius.”

Tim wanted to argue against that but he caught sight of the clock behind him. Bruce would be done in ten minutes. They needed to go. 

The stranger noticed the tension before Steph did, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder and stopping another rant.

“What is it?” Steph asked suddenly warry.

“Have you ever wanted to steal the batmobile?” Tim asked innocently.

Would Tim feel guilty for running away right after making a deal? Maybe.

However, Tim only had to learn how to give stitches because of Batman. This, he decided, was just deserts (at least from a villain perspective).

Chapter Text

So the batmobile was cool, Steph decided.

That was what she would stubbornly focus on. 

Not the fact that Orphan had casually walked her into batman's cave, cause Batman has a cave (obviously, did you think the guy lived in a house).

She was also not focusing on the fact that Tim could straight up hack said batmobile from the computers in the cave or that Mr Spooky's name was Bruce. 

Who named their kid Bruce? That sounded like a stuffy rich perso- oh no. Not that Bruce. 

Another fact for Steph to pointedly ignore.

She would say she was ignoring the fact that Tim clearly knew how to escape but didn't, but that was a lie. The truth was the moment they got home she was going to grill him on it till his skin had char lines.

But the batmobile was cool.

Tim had them climb in but apologised saying it would only take them as far as the sushi place two blocks away.

Tim was in the driver's seat, but the driving was clearly left to AI. These driving patterns were way safer than anything Tim would manage.

Tim tensed. 

“Be ready to jump,” he warned through gritted teeth. He was already removing his seatbelt.

The car barely screeched to a halt, and he flung himself out the door. Steph scrambled to follow, not even surprised that Orphan had somehow made it out before them. She had barely landed on the ground when the car revved and headed off again

“Where?” steph managed to ask.

Tim looked up. 

“Oh, first every sushi place in crime alley, then out of the city. Some place called the Kent farm.”

“That doesn’t sound random.”

Tim shrugged as if he couldn’t be bothered explaining more.

It was Orphan that clued into their surroundings first. Namely crime alley, with the sun setting, and a few too many unsavoury people around. They had, without any stealth, jumped out of the batmobile where everyone could see.

Great plan Tim.

Fortunately Orphan was quick to pull both the stunted mastermind and steph off the streets and up the rooftops.

It was an easy jog home from there.

Steph prepared herself for the unperturbed chaos of Tims's apartment. 

Once they had climbed in, Tim turned to Steph.

“Ok, can I get an introduction to your friend?” he asked in a way that was half mock bristol.

Friend? No, not a friend they were competition, that chose to fight, every night, and then walk home together. And chase down batman and bathostages together. And trusted each other. Like… A friend.

“Oh. ya this is Orphan.”

Tim raised his eyebrow and looked at Orphan.

“And I’m supposed to believe your mother named you that?”

“Well we don’t know actually, kind of cant talk, or write.”

“But who would name a kid orphan?”

“The fighting ring.” Steph blurted out before she could stop herself. 

Tim looked at her as if she had just admitted to… well admitting to asking to get beat up every night. funny.

Wait. What was this? Wasn’t Tim supposed to be the one who was being dragged over the coals over lack of safety?

Turns out this talk was way overdue on both ends.

Steph was aware in the back of her mind that Orphan had made it to the kitchen.

She heard the quiet sound of someone rummaging through the cabinets. 

The soft whirr of a microwave echoed, beyond her and Tim's discussion.

Orphan emerged with a personal bowl of Raman by the time Tim got to discussing the finances of medical supplies, and had tracked down a mystery blanket by the time Steph managed to discuss the questionable, but present safety standards the fighting ring enforced.

She was sleeping by the time Tim explained how he would have to quit working to keep Batman off his back, and the convoluted plan Tim had come up with in order to keep his job.

Neither of them were willing to back down, but they could work with that.

They talked until Steph heard the muffled sound of her mother returning below.

It was Ok; Steph could leave. Tim would be at the bus stop tomorrow morning. It was enough.

Chapter Text

It is a truth universally acknowledged that an intruder, who enters the batcave, without wearing a hairnet will be genetically profiled.

Yes, that was the only Pride and Prejudice reference Tim knew enough to allude to, and yes Tim knew it wasn’t exactly common knowledge. 

However, Tim had seen the air filtration system in the batcave.

It had a component to collect individual hairs if needed, and the Batcave had a lab for a reason.

Tim's post-escape plan had involved treating the Batcave mainframe like a plague.

Unfortunately, Tim's post-escape plan did not include an unidentified associate, who could not identify herself.

It would have been better if she had a functional nickname, but even then you couldn’t do anything without an ID. No medical treatment. No shelter access. No school, which wouldn’t be half bad, you know, if you could read . If you stole an ID from someone on the streets it was generally considered murder.

Sure it was Gotham. You could buy fakes, but Tim wasn’t exactly in a position to do that.

Tim happened to have a person with one such disadvantage in his house.

A little extra stress could be placed on in his house cause it was day two and Orphan didn’t leave. 

Steph had said this was new behaviour, and Orphan probably thought she needed to protect Tim. Tim argued that it was probably because Orphan felt safe. Orphan ignored the argument, so they had no reason to consider the fact that the other could be right.

There were exceptions.

She left to go fight with Steph in the fighting ring, and she left with Tim when he went to collect the blackmail money.

That had been an adventure.

If Tim thought it had been rigged before, it definitely was rigged now. There were trackers on every single piece of cash. Tim had to remove three cameras before retrieving anything, and the cameras had trackers on them so he couldn't even take them home for spare parts. 

Orphan watched his movements from a distance. He felt he was being graded.

Batman hadn’t been seen the last two nights. Tim hoped it was the Twoface situation. If Bruce was going to be reverse-stalker-of-the-year someone needed to be figuring out what was going on, and he did not want to be it. 

Tim was mildly aware that Barbara had registered that he got on the server. Half of him expected to be booted off, but when nothing happened, he forged ahead, looking for files related to his escape. 

Ah. yes there. A time stamp. Three files were attached; Timothy Drake, Stephanie Brown, and Cassandra Cain.

Easy peasy.

Tim wondered for a moment if he should stop to see what other information Cassandra's file had, but he figured he could do that later.

He had what he needed and didn’t want to invite more attention. Tim turned to see his extra resident who had been doing what might be advanced Yoga on his coffee table, now silently peering over his shoulder. She gestured to her file, looking concerned. Right. Orphan (Cassandra, Tim corrected himself) would recognise her own face. 

Tim nodded.

“It looks like he made a file for you.”

Cassandra reached over his shoulder to click on it. 

Normally Tim would fight someone touching his computer, but this was about Cassandra afterall. 

She skipped over the case notes, scrolling straight to an old security footage clip.

Cass hit play.

Tim watched.

There was a much smaller Cassandra, dressed in pink to boot, approaching a larger older man. Another man- linked as David Cain stood to the side.

It was so quick. One moment the businessman was talking, bragging most likely, and the next moment his neck was twisted in a way that suggested his spinal cord didn’t survive the encounter. 

Security tape Cassandra and real-life Cassandra recoiled at the same moment, with the horror that in front of them a human became a corpse. 

Cassandra wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Cassandra?” Tim asked 

“Cass?”

He watched her back away. Big tears were getting everywhere. Tim wished he didn’t recognize the silent sobs.

Tim looked frantically for a Kleenex. When he came up short, he settled for a random sock from the laundry pile he was ignoring.

He reached out, sock in hand

Cass sprung as if wound by a spring, and Tim found himself face-first in the laundry basket.

“Ouch!” 

Tim looked to see Cass cowering in the opposite corner.

Oh, she saw that as a threat.

Tim grabbed an extra sock and showcased blowing his nose on it.

Cass watched curiously.

Tim threw the other sock at her.

He missed horribly. In fact, his throw was so bad curiosity became a mild restrained giggle.

“Fine then, don’t use the sock,” he said pretending to be miffed.

Cassandra did not look tricked. Tim doubted he could trick her if he wanted to, but that was probably for the better.

They had some stuff to sort out, like the whole murder thing, and you know her actual name, but in order to do that he needed a peace offering. 

He swore there was a can of corn chowder in the back of the cupboard. At least that wouldn’t be seen as inciting violence.

Chapter Text

Bruce stared at the footage.

Tim left, of his own free will. No looking back.

‘Better yet he stole the batmobile’, Dick had laughed. Honestly what had gone so wrong, that Bruce lost his kid and his son laughed?

Not his kid he realised.

No, Tim had a fake guardian. 

However, that also meant that the mystery ‘partner’ also had no legal claim to him.

Bruce couldn’t just barrel in and take over this child's life for his safety, he had already tried that. 

There were other options though. 

He needed to get Tim to trust him more than some scheming blackmailer.

He could do that. Right? Start with maintaining that regular gargoyle contact. Prove that Batman wasn’t going to do something horrible just because he was an accessory to crime. 

Make a softer image that Tim could trust.

Figure out who the kids were that were sent to retrieve him. 

Track them back to the mystery villain. 

Prove to Tim that he was being manipulated. 

Convince all three of them that they were safer here.

Just a simple 6-step plan.

He could do this. He wouldn’t leave any more kids to be dragged into the middle of rogue mind games.

Easy.

Chapter Text

Tim liked to think he had gotten good at priorities in the year he spent as a single-income household. He had to juggle bills, media attention as vultures like Viki Vale closed in, school, and his nighttime activities.

Unfortunately he had a new set of priorities.

Twoface as far as appearances went, was living the life.

Three banks had been robbed since Tim's return to residence and Batman  had  yet to pin him down. The closest he had gotten to it was the night of the breakout. Tims fault .

Steph needed to start getting regular checkups, not that she could afford it. Tim figured he would suffice in a pinch. 

All three of them were learning ASL now- Cass managed to learn it faster than Tim or Steph for sure, but Tim was catching up. 

Speaking of Cass, they still didn’t have a surefire way to get her an ID.

Tim also had to flip his work days to avoid getting caught and His night photography had gotten trickier.

There was less blood. Maybe. 

Ok, the criminals needed fewer stitches when Batman noticed him. You know, at the expense of Batman taking a few too many hits. 

Not that Tim had to stitch him up, it had never gotten that far.

Tim was returning from one such adventure. Bruce had taken a knife to the leg and hockey pants were proving to be inferior to kevlar. Who knew? He heard the bat grumble about how he was planning on upgrading the pants eventually, he just hadn’t gotten there yet.

Tim had the pleasure of listening to both Alfred and Barbara scolding him on just that.

His train of thought was interrupted by a blur charging at him.

Tim didn’t have the time to react. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what he could do if he did. 

He found himself, back against the pebble coating of a roof, staring at his roommate?

“Too slow” she signed

“Go fight Steph”

“No. You need to fight.”

Tim groaned, wondering what ninja training made Cass think this was OK.

“Why?” 

“You’re weak.”

Tim wanted to argue, but he felt if he did it would lead to a demonstration that Cass was right.

Cass smiled in triumph.

“Get up.”

Tim cautiously did, trying to keep his eyes on the threat/roommate. He slowly rose from a squat only to- land  on his back again.

“Fight back.” Cass smiled

Tim… Tim got very familiar with that phrase.

Two weeks in. Tim wished his self defence teacher was not a former ninja assassin. He had done some research and the normal self defence was not nearly as rigorous. Cass had started bringing in weapons after one unfortunate night. When Tim asked why, Cass gestured to the thugs Tim had been running from. 

“They’re armed too.”

It wasn’t to say Cass wasn’t a good teacher. She corrected his stance. Pointed out how he was punching the wrong way. She showed him pressure points. She would stop mid-spar to correct Tim's posture, before returning to showing him that he left an opening… the hard way.

Steph stopped by as Tim was working out a few aches he got from the Cass special delivered the night before.

Steph laughed, calling it the price of friendship.

“What price, staying alive?” Cass countered

Steph nodded. 

“Yes, it's a horrible price, I hope you don’t hold me to that.”

Cass’s response was a tensor bandage, which for the record made a louder thump than Tim thought would come from a roll of fabric.

Steph's yelp confirmed that they would work as a last ditch weapon. 

Tim pulled his attention back to the security feed of the last Twoface sighting.

Steph peered over.

“Can’t you leave that to your boss?”

Tim looked up.

“At this rate? No, but I’ll let you know when the greenhouse starts catching rouges.”

Tim was hit with the realisation that all of his interpersonal relationships came with the risk of injury, oh, and an apple. Tim went straight to eating it. Might as well get it over with before the bruising started to taste weird. 

Cass let out a snort after watching the scuffle.

It was a soft Saturday.

The homework was light.

Goons were sleeping off the night's injuries.

The sun was making a rare appearance.

So, sure, Tim may not be getting headway on anything within the priority list, but things were moving.

He wondered how long this stalemate would last.

Chapter Text

Bruce was not making headway. Maybe. Depending on your definition of headway.

Tracking the trio of children led to a sketchy apartment, Tim's real greenhouse job, a fighting ring, and random alerts distracting him in the middle of patrol.

No mystery coordinator, at least no obvious one.

Tracking Twoface showed a big display was scheduled to interrupt Sunday brunch. It was the typical extravaganza Bruce had faced many times before, with or without a partner. He really wanted it over and done with, but he had already discussed Nightwing taking some time in Gotham, to help with the whole ‘protect the bystander’ situation.

Bruce had a feeling Tim wouldn’t be able to stay away from the Twoface situation, so it was better to have an extra pair of eyes.

Dick had surprisingly agreed.

He liked Tim, but enough to put aside a grudge that had been festering for years? Bruce should have asked for help earlier.

So instead of heading in to interrupt Twoface early, Bruce was stuck listening to Barbara complain about how out of date his computer system was. She had talked through the ways Tim had managed to bypass his firewalls in the past two weeks.

That reminded Bruce that Barbara had been completely aware that Tim was hacking the Batcave and had just done nothing.

When he asked she just shrugged.

“You wanted to find the Mystery mastermind. I added in extra coding to track what information was accessed and where it was copied to.”

Bruce hummed. 

Barbara turned to look at him.

“Say it B.” her voice was drained like a parent reminding their kid to say thank you.

Barbara had started going on a ‘path of healing’ along with her physio. Evidently, it meant that she expected more ‘verbal communication’ from him if they were going to work together.

“Good job.” Bruce coughed uncomfortably. 

She looked at him for a second.

“Ok, I’ll send you the file.”

Bruce nodded. 

When the file appeared on his screen Bruce scrolled through the table of contents and realised that he should never cross Barbara. If he thought getting blackmailed by his former neighbour was dangerous, Barbara was deadly.

He looked over to Barbara who had managed to take that exact moment to smugly sip Alfred's tea. His kids scared him sometimes. 

Dick appeared before Bruce could finish organising the new information at his fingertips.

“Updating mini-medic’s file?”

Bruce grunted.

“If you’d rather we could spend the night fighting with CPS.”

Bruce barely contained a sigh.

“Suit up. I’d rather get Harvey behind bars before he does something he regrets.”

Dick nodded. They both knew waiting wasn’t going to do anyone any favours.

Chapter Text

Finally,

Tim was almost wondering if he was going to need to talk down Harvey himself.

The man had been doing a dress rehearsal of whatever tomorrow was supposed to do for two hours before the Batcomms grew active.

Tim's had taken a few dismantled bat-cameras from that week's gargoyle check-in to keep an eye on the Two Face's most likely hideouts. 

Way easier than gambling on a location. He could do it from home, in his PJs while Cass took a turn heating up the alphagetti. (another home improvement brought to you by your friendly neighborhood blackmailing committee)

Steph was at home for once, the sound of her mother's old style music wafting through the floorboards

Tim wondered for a moment if he could let the bats alone tonight, however Nightwing by all sounds of it was joining and Tim couldn’t just ignore a confrontation with the original duo.

Tim looked up. Cass turned expectantly.

Tim tapped the floor four times preparing to wave Cass goodbye.

Cass evidently wasn’t having it. 

“Eat.” picked up the pot of lukewarm noodles.

And waved it at Tim

“Later.” 

“No.” Cass was now between him and the exit. “Eat now. Then go.”

“But-” Tim's stomach growled. He had missed lunch.

“Eat.”

Tim gave up. He didn’t really want to see how good Cass was at fighting while holding a pot of food. She could probably do it and Cass had stubborn genes a mile wide. 

The batcomms continued to echo in his ear as Tim gulped down half of the alphagetti. Honestly, he would almost rather eat ramen, if it was going to be cold.

Unfortunately, Someone had taught Cass that you need to eat before doing a few hours' worth of parkour across a city. Tim would blame Steph. 

“B!!” the comm screeched in Tim's ear. That was Nightwing.

“N. My cameras have gone blind. What happened?” Barbara demanded

There was a grunt.

“N!” 

Tim took an extra second to check his laptop. The cameras showed nothing. 

Tim could have been there already, if he was more proactive. If he didn’t listen to Cass. This would not have been an issue if Tim had managed to stay out of the way when Twoface first showed up. His fault.

Tim was on the balcony barely snagging his backpack on the way out.

Cass did nothing to stop him this time. She would follow, he hoped. 

Nightwing had a lot of reasons to be angry. He became a smouldering ember of vengeance the day his parents fell. In a way, nothing changed from that day.

He watched his father figure crumple as a lumber beam of all things swung against his head. 

He should have seen it coming.

Twoface hadn’t even hidden his planning. They should have known there was more going on. 

If there was a vigilante handbook, not underestimating your opponent would have been rule number one.

No, instead he watched his mentor crumple against a blow from generic goon no. 5. Were they on speaking terms? No. Did that matter? Not when Bruce didn’t respond.

That was the man who was willing to endanger his whole mission because he saw one kid, mourning and angry. He mattered more than comfort, or even a personal call for vengeance. That was what made B a father. Dick was not ready to lose another parent.

Nightwing rushed forward with escrima sticks in hand. 

It almost worked. It was the sort of almost however that would put ‘don’t act on your feelings’ as rule number 2. 

A stun gun.

Dick found himself collapsing from a stun gun. 

What was all his resistance training good for?

He heard a taunt overhead

“Two bats for the price of one. Who do you think we’ll catch next? Robin or Batgirl?”

Oh. Twoface is behind . Nightwing thought as he fought through a continued shot of pain.

“What do you say? Should we wait for them?”

Dick raced against his screaming muscles to turn about. There was Twoface, in all his polka-dot and striped suit glory. A golden shimmer landing square into the palm of his hand.

Chapter Text

There are some facts that come with Gotham goonhood.

First you don’t ask if it’s legal. It's not.

Second, you don’t give rogues ideas. They’ve got enough already.

Third, you don’t question the plans. This one was really important if you wanted to survive goonhood. It unfortunately meant that sometimes certain facts were missed.

Harvey had been in Arkham for quite some time. Hey, they had actually been considering his discharge before he broke out. However, things had changed. 

If Twoface had been more predictable, predictable enough to be informed of certain changes to the vigilante outlook, things may have been different. 

Twoface would probably have gone ahead with moving the two vigilantes. He would have televised a mock trial and most likely would have attempted an execution. 

Its not like there was a public funeral for Robin. Batgirl didn’t exactly hand in a resignation letter. Hey, a good portion of Gotham wasn’t quite sure if Batman was real, let alone weather or not he had sidekicks. 

It wasn’t completely insane to not know what had happened in the two years Twoface attempted rehab.

It still felt like bad taste, hearing the muffled speech through Tim’s end of the comm.

How could a whole child die, and those who faced him so often not even know . 

Tim was fortunate, he reasoned. He could get there before this became a hostage situation. Cass would end up following. She always pretended she didn’t care before showing up in the shadows after Tim barely avoided sketchy scenarios.

He wasn’t without backup.

He couldn’t exactly say the same for Batman. Nightwing had been the backup.

There was a horrifying silence on the end of the batcomm.

“Tim? You’ve been on the comms for a while now.” Barbra sounded cautious like she was trying for a next plan.

Tim happened to be jumping across the skyline, and didn’t exactly have the time to unmute.

“Ok Tim, I’m going to go ahead and unmute you.”

Ok, wow. Had Tim actually tried to outhack her?

“Thanks.” Tim mumbled after the grunt of a landing

“I’m sending the batmobile to the warehouse. I expect you know where that is?”

Tim nodded before realising Barb couldn’t see it.

“Uh, Yah.”

“Can I assume you are on your way?”

Tim made an affirmative grunt as he jumped across to another building.

“Alrighty mini-B. Do you have any extra manpower that could help you get B and N up?”

Tim wasn’t sure.

Cass refrained from getting involved most of the time.

The pause was long enough Barbara spoke up

“Ok. You’ll need to get N first, he might be able to help you get B into the Batmobile.”

Tim wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to be near the batmobile. The last time he had been in it had been less than voluntary. He still didn’t want to see the next steps of Twoface’s plan actually finish so he didn’t argue. Instead he kept running.

The warehouse was appropriately guarded by a good half dozen goons looking reasonably concerned. Evidently they heard the whole ‘wait for the two vigilante children who haven’t been seen in a year’ thing.

Now there are some risks that come with goonhood. 

You would be bribing cops, fighting vigilantes, and occasionally dodging blows from your boss. 

Normally you don’t have to deal with all three.

Twoface was getting antsy waiting for vigilantes that would never come.

Batman was probably going to stir sooner rather than later.

If the sirens in the distance were a telltale sign, that was exactly what was going to happen.

Tim clambered down the fire escape as stealthily as he could, until his foot slipped on the second last rung.

One of the goons' heads snapped up.

Tim recognized the face. It was Mr. Leg Stitches from forever ago. That had been a weird night. By the looks of it, he was doing such a good job of staying out of trouble while on parole.

“Hey! It’s that kid!”

And it looked like that had been a memorable night for both of them. 

There went stealth.

Chapter Text

There were a lot of ways for the current situation to become extra gasoline on Tim’s current dumpster fire of a life.

The good news was Mr. Stitches didn’t seem to hold the police tip against Tim. The bad news was the chances of sneaking out a couple of incapacitated vigilantes out of Two Face's clutches just dropped.

“What's the chance you’ve got some effective blackmail on that group?” Barb asked slightly panicky from the comm.

“Uh, Zero?” Tim whispered

“Great, you only collect blackmail on people trying to help Gotham.”

Tim decided it was for the best if he didn’t start an argument with his earpiece as he was being approached by six definitely armed goons.

Blackmail per se wasn’t an option but…

“I hear you’re in a rough spot?” Tim started

Mr. Stitches crossed his arms, but the man next to him snorted.

“You could say that.” a guy to the left mumbled.

“I don’t suppose you can summon dead vigilantes so we can convince Harvey to let us scatter?” another scoffed.

Tim sighed, of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

“No more than I can convince Harvey that this is the new Robin costume,” he admitted looking at his worn out sweater.

Mr. Stitches was looking thoughtful now.

“And how would that help?”

Tim shrugged.

“Oh, you know. It would be enough of a distraction for-” Tim looked at the group. They were all listening now. 

Tim was going to need to blackmail Bruce into hiring a few questionable applicants once this was over. If they got that far.

Turns out Mr. Stitches had a Stitches Junior who was a Robin fan (good taste). Mr. Stitches was also a trained tailor before he took up the life of a henchman. That led to Mr. Stitches hand sewing a Robin jacket for the kid. This was supposed to be a slow day, so Mr. Stitches brought it along to keep himself busy.

It didn’t fit, of course, it would have been concerning if it did. It wasn't finished. Tim could feel the bobby pins poke into his side through his clothing underneath. They didn’t have time anyway, the police were on their way.

Barb was in the process of telling Tim that he couldn’t come up with a more suicidal plan if he tried.

“The Batmobiles still coming?” Tim clarified. 

“Of course.”

“Then I just need to make it until then.”

Tim hoisted himself up to the window that had been pointed out as less guarded. The view was horrible. If Tim wasn’t part of the extraction team he would have stopped for a couple of gruesome photos. 

A scream spurred Tim forward.

Nightwing was being provided another round of shocks

Tim aimed his launch into the room for the goon who happened to be holding the stun gun. By chance. What? It wasn’t like he made a deal with that particular goon.

Too late to go back.

“I hear you were waiting for me?” he asked, pointing a taunting smile towards Twoface. At least his gala training was good for something.

Was it fortune or doom that Twoface was the only one expecting his dramatic entrance?

Tim would wonder about it on late nights while his mind provided a cautious play-by-play.

Twoface turning with a look of glee.

Nightwing stumbling back before rushing to plummell the rogue. 

Mr. Stitches and co sneaking in through the side doors.

Twoface aiming his gun towards Tim.

Nightwings look of horror.

Cass ramming against his side, leaving Tim to fall against the fallen goon.

Blood. Of course, there was blood.

The roar of the Batmobile swinging through the closed warehouse doors.

Splinters.

More blood.

Mr. Stitches had a look of shock before backing away the way he came from.

Cass was bleeding, a bullet grazed against her bicep. Splinters lodged into her hoodie.

“I knew it! Two for tw-” Harvey’s cheer was interrupted by a fist owned by none other than Nightwing.

If the rush of sirens outside were correct, the police had just arrived.

Oh. Right.

Batman.

He was shifting on the ground. He probably ‘came to’ a while ago but was unwilling to show it while in captivity.

Tim rushed to help him up, but the man seemed determined to get up alone.

Goons and co decided that they were free to scatter.

Good for them. Tim was about to follow when a familiar gauntlet landed on his shoulder.

Bruce was swaying. Tim slipped to his side instinctively, and Cass mirrored him on the other side. They were approaching the batmobile unhindered.

Tim was vaguely aware of Nightwing slipping a pair of handcuffs onto Harvey's wrists. He was about to be one of the least injured Gotham vigilantes captures in 6 months.

The batmobile opened as they approached.

Slowly, the police were approaching guns raised. They didn't trust the bat too much these days (minus Jim, Tim doubted Jim was unaware of Bruce's identity at this point).

Too late to run off unnoticed.

Tim was about to try his luck anyway, but Bruce's grip grew tighter.

Tim settled into the car. Signing to Cass to go along with it, for now.

She tossed him a thumbs up with the hand that wasn’t applying pressure to the bullet wound. 

That was it. That was where the last of Tim's adrenaline faded and Tim watched dazed as the car rushed into the unfortunately familiar cave.

Shoving his hand into a pocket of the unfinished coat, Tim felt paper. 

he pulled it out.

Thanks Kid

drop off at XXXXXxxxxx

no bats no cops

Chapter Text

Bruce wished with all his might that concussed Bruce didn’t latch onto impressionable teenagers and bring them home. He also wished that there wasn’t a concussed Bruce to begin with, but he didn’t have anyone but himself to blame there.

It was an unfortunate end to the 6 part plan ‘adopt a blackmailer's sidekick’. However, with the bit of information he had skimmed from batgi-Barbaras files it looked like there were revisions needed anyways. It just might be possible that there was no ‘mystery partner’ to begin with. That made, well, most of the plan void anyways.

Tim looked like he was trying to disappear further into the seat cushions on the med cot. A red leather coat complete with false utility belt and robin symbol stretched across his shoulders. Where had he gotten that coat? Bruce had to admit that it was better taste than the actual robin costume, but that had been armoured at least. Not that Bruce wanted another kid in the Robin outfit.

Against Tims rigid form, Cassandra lounged. Her injured arm was propped up so Tim could keep an eye on it. Cassandra was too comfortable if Bruce was honest. The girl was 14 and treating bullet injuries like a fresh manicure. She seemed happy letting Tim fuss over it and then treated it with just enough caution that it wouldn’t be messed up, but there was no actual concern. At least she had an excuse with her assassin training. 

Tim should not be unfazed with the gash across his forehead brought on by a splinter of the door. There was no excuse. Alfred, upon seeing it, ushered the kid in and began fussing over removing the debris that was still in it. Tim did his best to sidestep the care Alfred offered. This was not the behaviour Bruce expected from the kid with a Bristol background. He shrank at the prospects of what could have brought that change in a single year.

Bruce was not so stupid as to miss the clear signs traumatised kids give when they knocked on the door and asked for admittance. He just wished that he didn’t appear to be a trigger, like he was for Tim.

Cassandra at least seemed comfortable with Bruce.

So long as he didn’t get too close to Tim.

That also meant he couldn’t get them upstairs.

There was an unfortunate stalemate that settled on the medical station. 

It felt like a breakthrough when he watched the pair talk in slightly sloppy ASL.

Tim clearly didn’t trust him, but maybe he could talk to David Cain's young teen.

Two hours post retrieval Tim had finally slumped snoring lightly into the warmed flannel Alfred had brought as truce.

He smiled at the comfortable pair, before Cassandra met his eyes.

Right. He needed to talk.

Cassandra, for all her silence, was more of a talker than Bruce ever was.

“He doesn’t sleep much at home. Quiet.”

Bruce nodded.

“He didn’t want to come here.” She signed

Bruce sighed. He knew that. The boy had tried to leave the first chance he got. Cassandra, fortunately, looked like she understood.

“He doesn't feel… safe”

Bruce nodded. As much as it pained him to admit, the behaviour felt familiar… Yes it was like Jason. Maybe Tim didn’t squirrel away food, but it was the constant preoccupation. They both viewed Bruce as a threat.

“You want him safe.” Cassandra continued, “Tim is not safe. He’s weak. He… likes danger. No, likes being near danger. He trusts it more.”

Bruce was not exactly thrilled with the assessment.

“You want him to stop.”

 Bruce nodded. Why else would he be so worried about the kid?

“He won't,” Cass looked down, almost worried at the kid next to her.

“Do you want him to stop?” Bruce finally, carefully asked.

Cass peered into Bruce’s eyes.

“Does it matter?”

Bruce tried again.

“Do you want him safe?”

“Yes”

“So what do you want to do?”

Cass smiled as if she had a great scheme.

“Make him less weak.”

Chapter Text

Tim waited for the fallout.

He was past hope of returning to the terms he had proved incapable of following.

He became a distraction; a liability that took Bruce away from more crucial matters. There had to be repercussions. 

Tim woke on the cot with Cass grinning at him from a nearby chair.

“Did something good happen?”

Cass nodded

“I got to talk.”

“You talked?”

“With Bruce, and Dick, and Barb” she fingerspelled

Tim blinked, realising that she had only had a conversation with two people previously. Maybe the fallout wouldn’t be all bad.

“Good,” Then curiosity got the best of him, “What did you talk about?”

She scrunched her nose

“Secret.”

Welp, there goes that. 

Alfred appeared at the base of the stairs.

“I don't suppose you’d be willing to eat before leaving this time?”

Tim looked down. He was the criminal guilty of wasting both Alfred's food and efforts. This is not who he was raised to be.

He looked up when the room stayed silent.

“Oh. Uh, ya.”

Cass evidently had the opportunity to try Alfred's food already, because with Tim's confirmation she beelined for the stairs. Just how much had he missed?

The table was set for six when Tim arrived. It almost made sense. There was Bruce, Dick, Alfred, Cass, and him… but that left a singular spot unfilled.

He turned curiously to Alfred.

Alfred was about to be the hero he always was and explain the increased numbers that Tim noted when a purple hoodie barreled to him from the side.

“Hey, way to get a girl to panic! I decided to stay home one night, and you go jump in front of a rogues gun.” 

Tim was about to defend himself when he caught sight of Steph's smile.

“Payback,” he mumbled, thinking of all the black eyes he had been icing since Steph started bugging him more.

“I figured if you were going to get in the habit of getting caught by B-man I should check it out,” she said, offering a not-quite-gentle punch to the shoulder. 

“Nightwing showed up at the apartment didn’t he.”

“He offered lunch!”

Tim didn’t have an argument against that. 

Free food was, after all, free food. 

Lunch was early as far as Tim could tell. ‘Brunch’, Dick corrected him, as if that mattered. Brunch made it sound like a stuffy tea party with slightly hungover socialites. Dick parried by defining brunch as ‘breakfast, but late’. Tim's countered with a query about what one would call it if the first meal was supper. Alfred entered with the explanation that Brunch could be eaten as late as 3 pm. 

By that point it didn’t matter. The crepes were steaming, the whipped cream was real , and there was fresh fruit involved.

Bruce seemed to be enjoying watching the mess more than the actual food. Imagine being used to Alfred's cooking , Tim thought.

Of course the peace couldn’t last.

Bruce asked to speak with him in the office. A sure sign of trouble if there ever was one.

“Tim,” he started as he closed the door, “I had the chance to speak with Cassandra, earlier.”

This was a bad sign.

“I think it’s time we stopped with the gargoyle drop off.”

Because of course. Tim had proved incapable of keeping, well, any of the terms.

“It would be more beneficial to pick up your funds while training with Cassandra.”

Tim hoped his gala persona hid the shock beneath them.

“Take the south entrance on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Be here at 1700 hours.”

Tim was going to have to change his work hours again.

“I expect this will be enough to keep you from affiliating with anyone else.”

Ah, there wasn’t any negotiating power was there?

Huh.

Tim nodded numbly, his brain racing to figure out if his meeting with Mr. Stitches counted.

Chapter Text

Dick was of the opinion that if one couldn’t pick up on a pattern the third time, the fourth and fifth should be a wakeup call.

He didn’t even wait for Bruce to ask him to pick up the Brown girl. He knew what it was like to be left outside of loved ones' decisions. Bruce was going to try adopting her eventually. Did it matter if he was rushing it?

She wasn’t exactly thrilled with having a vigilante enter her living room window, but she had also been in the process of watching the news, and evidently had enough detective work to figure out who was behind the ‘mysterious reports of a Robin sighting’ for the first time in a year.

“This is going to be an issue, won’t it?”

Steph asked, nodding towards the TV.

Dick looked at the shots of a police sketch of Robins outfit.

“I want to think Robin is done.” he started.

“But good luck convincing the rogues of that” Steph added.

Dick gave her a look.

Steph shrugged “I’ve got an ‘in’ ”, 

She started on a set of stretches that made Dick feel a little too at home. Without thinking he joined in. She seemed to nod in appreciation before falling back into a normal rhythm. It ended rather quickly with a last set of shoulder rolls.

“Good warm up.” Dick nodded

Steph smiled,

“I would wish you good luck bringing me in, but then I would feel bad fighting you.”

What.

“You don’t have to-”

“Oh come on. Tims been trying to hide from you guys for weeks. What makes you think I want to find out what that’s about.”

Now Dick liked to think he always has a good quip in his pocket, but he also didn't normally have baby teens squaring up to fight him. A hungry looking baby teen. Instead of anything good, or even better, calming, he blurted the only dumb thing in his head.

“Alfreds making crepes.”

“Like the fancy thin version of waffles?”

Dick nodded.

Steph squinted at him suspiciously.

“Is there anything funky in the waffles?”

Not waffles Dick mentally corrected. Instead he nodded. 

She seemed to be honestly considering it. Why was that all it took to get Steph to change her tune?

“Alright but if there’s no waffles I’m dragging Tim back again, and you will not follow.”

“Crepes.” Dick finally caved in.

Steph rolled her eyes. 

“Lead away Mr. Wing. And make it snappy. I do not want to explain why vigilante rumours when my dad gets back.”

As it turned out, Agent A was really their secret weapon in more than one way.

It was Cass that really settled Steph. Something explained quicker than Dick could read signs led to steph allowing herself to be dragged into one of the more loved ‘drawing rooms’ as Alfred was so insistent to call it.

Dick was starting to pick up on the reality that he too had been infected by Alfreds ‘butler speak’.

Not that he was about to start calling crepes ‘waffles’. That was crossing a line.

Dick decided the girls needed the patented Dick tour of the manor after brunch. 

Steph was most interested in the industrial freezer Alfred kept stocks in the kitchen. Cass seemed to agree the chandelier was a good hideaway. She managed to find a few of the hidden passages before Dick had the chance to decide if they needed to know about them.

This quickly turned into a game of hide and seek tag that Dick refused to lose. This was his home turf after all. 

They landed in a heap at the base of one of the bannisters, and rested there till Barbara rolled by with the news that Tim and Bruce had just left the office.

This is what siblings are like right , he thought, lazily wondering if Bruce had mustered the courage to pull out the adoption papers this time.

By the look of Tims shaken up face, the adoption papers had  been shoved back in the safe.

Honestly, what did it take to get Bruce to talk normally?

Chapter Text

Lady Shiva was bored. 

Boredom is dangerous for assassins. Well, it's dangerous for anyone around the assassins. Recently, the upstairs neighbor in her favorite safehouse was likely to be found dead next to his lifelong companion, the vacuum cleaner.

That wouldn’t be a challenge.

She touched bases with her Ex, only to learn he was just as incompetent at childcare as she probably would have been. He was taking a trip to have dinner with the world's most egotistical assassin; Raas. Shiva wasn’t particularly fond of him, but he did offer some interesting jobs if you were to happen by at the right time. 

The dinner company was particularly horrible. There was a reason she didn't work there after all.

Talia on the other hand was a delight. After supper, she pulled her aside and requested a favor. Evidently, Talia had a few too many projects going on and needed someone outside of the league circles to check out on things in Gotham.

Shiva sympathized but declined at first. She knew keeping tabs on one's Ex was a bad plan (it led to awkward dinners in weird assassin cults if you weren’t careful). However, Talia wasn’t finished. Instead, she brought up a news article about Robin. (Robin was dead wasn’t he?) It was dated a week ago.

Huh.

Let it be said that Lady Shiva was bored.

Boredom is dangerous for assassins.

The new terms Batman laid out were a little extra anxiety boost. B had yet to make a move towards legal action in the last two weeks (lucky Tim). However, Tim also had that itch on the back of his neck that said, ‘someone is watching’ every time he left the house. 

The training mats were actually a great improvement to the lightly pebbled rooftops. Bruce had simply joined Steph in watching Tim find new ways to land on his backside. Who had invited Steph? Probably Cass if Tim was honest. Revenge for ignoring the coffee cap Cass had attempted to implement.

Tim had a small issue that surrounded a certain child-sized coat and a set of instructions stating ‘no bats’. Alfred, who had somehow learned more than enough tailoring due to the constant repair and replacement of the bat-suit, had managed to finish the coat and returned it with a subtle nod the night before.

Frankly, logically even, he couldn’t help it if there was no way to drop off the coat. 

Tim had a problem with debt though, whether it was a coat or a dollar.

Things add up. Next thing you know it, you’re down a house . Tim grumbled internally wondering what life would have been ahead of him if debt had never been involved.

Which meant Tim was now out of excuses.

He needed to lose his tail, and fast.

He got his chance during lunch. He was leaving history, a class held in a ‘temporary’ classroom on the edge of the school property when he saw a flicker of a shadow leave. A good stalker would probably be changing to a better vantage point to watch the main school.

It was a chance.

Tim gave Ives, who was looking a little cold, his sweater. The sweater had once been his Dad's, and frankly wasn't even close to fitting Tim. For Ives, it just looked intentionally baggy.

“If I’m not back by science, cover for me.” he mumbled before changing direction and climbing out over the school fence.

The shadow didn’t appear as Tim joined the crowd crossing the intersection. He didn’t feel his hair stand on end as he pretended to browse the menu at a food truck. There was no flicker of motion as Tim chose a back alley to slink down. He was safe.

Tim didn’t need to pull out an address. He had been staring at the little note for days, instead he took a few sharp turns, reaching a rundown set of apartments on the edge of the docks. 

The apartment building was locked, so Tim opted for the fire escape. 

With no clue which apartment number it was, Tim chose an easy window and slipped through. Luck was on his side, he thought, slipping through what appeared to be an elderly woman's apartment. The radio was blaring, and the occupant was hunched over a puzzle, completely unaware of the trespasser locking the apartment door as they left.

Easy.

It felt as if everything was going in order. 

The apartment number was marked with a hand-drawn welcome sign. Probably the work of the rightful recipient of the robin coat. Tim dropped the reusable bag by the door and made his way towards the exit.

It was only natural that Gotham should choose to rain.

Tim just wished he hadn’t given up his oversized sweater as a decoy.

The streets were filling with more water than usual. Tim's sneakers were soaked. Nearby, a car stalled after rushing too fast through a deepening puddle.

A hand reached out from the side and pulled him under an awning.

“Idiot” Cass mumbled.

Of course that would be the first word she spoke.

Chapter Text

Cass knew her mother was in town. It was one of those things that you felt more than you saw. She just didn’t know why. Best case; scenario Lady Shiva would finish scoping out a hit and then leave, but that was looking less and less likely. 

She was too close to Tim and Steph, far too often.

Unfortunately, if Cass mentioned her mother's presence there would be questions. Cass wasn’t sure if she was ready to answer them yet. 

Cass would deal with this threat herself.

Her mother was good enough at stealth but she was better at removing witnesses. Her body language declared comfort and focus. Confidence. She wasn’t even reacting to the presence of Cass, if she had noticed it.

At least that was the case until she lost track of Tim.

Cassandra at least knew what to do. She had watched Tim sneak around enough to recognize the telltale movements on a distant fire escape. She waited. The kid walked out of the apartment as if it was a normal day, right before the clouds decided to empty themselves speed style. 

Of course Tim didn’t bring a coat. No, instead he had given up the only layer of protection against the elements he had.

Did the kid duck underneath any cover while making his way back to school? Of course not. His actions were dead-set on returning to school through the fastest route. He was going to get a cold at this point.

She dragged the kid underneath the ledge. 

“Idiot.”

She was aware her mother had found them again. Her posture seemed to suggest she was reconsidering something.

Cass chose to provide a silent warning. 

Back off.

She just hoped the woman would get the hint.

Lady Shiva wasn’t bored anymore.

The child had proved to be smart enough to detect her surveillance and avoid it. He had joined forces with her daughter who had managed to hide from the LOA for years without trace. 

There may have even been a kindred spirit between her and her daughter; That longing to break free of constraints.

Having Batman lurk around was not conducive to that freedom. 

Now it isn’t in Lady Shiva's nature to do things for the benefit of others. She had learned long ago that people hold you back, and so does the care of those people. However, watching the perfect assassin grow to become a force to rival the League? That was interesting.

She watched Cassandra trace her target to a street. They were sopping wet. Honestly, so waterlogged that anymore water would roll right off. Shiva silently thanked herself for finding a good shell.

Cass shot a dangerous look to the world, as if they were a threat to the kid.

Or maybe that look was aimed for her.

Had they both noticed her?

Cute.

Oh how dangerous they could be if only they had a better teacher.

She thought back to the instructions Talia had given. The stress Talia had put on ‘do not let My Beloved know of your presence’ was higher than normal. At this rate, Shiva was risking crossing that line. All it would take would be one straightforward conversation between these kids and Bruce Wayne. 

Maybe there were easier ways to make sure that conversation didn’t happen. Who knows? If it would convince her daughter to break free of the Bat at the same time, no harm done.

Chapter Text

Ok. So Tim was pretty sure the ninja in front of him was not a Batman informant.

It was in the way she moved, the knives she kept, the French she spoke, and the way Cass had been instantly wary of her.

The fact that Cassandra was sedated and tied up beside him was also a give away if all else failed.

Tim wasn’t sure if he was fortunate his parents had insisted he became a polyglott. His attempts to pretend he didn’t understand did not go over well. On the other hand, they could communicate easily (so that was a win).

“Bonjour, petit Rouge-gorge” (Hello little robin)

Well, that was the bigger problem.

Tim should have seen it coming. Timothy Jackson Drake was not an interesting object for weird assassins. His parents had left him nothing to take for ransom. Anyone looking to make a point for any debts left unpaid, would have taken no such precaution. He wasn’t important enough.

“Je ne suis pas un rouge-gorge!” (I’m not a robin) Tim argued, hoping to project the innocent wide eyed child he no longer found in the mirror.

The assassin leaned closer. She spoke in English this time:

“You look like a Robin, you act like a Robin, you even know people Robin would know.”

“Cuz about every kid in Gotham knows about the rouges.” he offered,

“I think a simple spar would prove otherwise,” she said with a smile

A simple spar did not prove otherwise. His hand-to-hand was in the assassin's terminology ‘elementary’. She even felt comfortable enough in his inadequacy to try his hand with a katana. Tim wished at that moment he had tried out fencing, before photography, but that was another time, another life. The tides did turn a little when she threw a star at him. Tim had picked up enough of those to practice with on lone Gotham nights. Cass of course encouraged it, when she found him tossing them around.

The assassin was looking thoughtfully at him. 

“You do better with added range.”

Which is how he found himself facing the assassin the fourth time with a bo staff, as his partner in misfortune stirred.

“Idiot.” she mumbled.

Tim immediately found himself knocked to the ground, a testament to why you don’t let yourself get distracted while fighting mysterious kidnappers. By the time he got up, the assassin had walked over to inspect the other captive.

The look in Cass's eye wasn’t quite fear, but Tim didn’t take the time to analyse it. 
He lifted his staff and swung. The bo staff in the assassin's hand clicking against his own.

The assassin didn’t even look at him.

Cass did.

Tim hated how fast fingerspelling was typically, but in the moment Cass could, in a blink, signal left, Tim was nothing but thankful.

Better yet the assassin wasn’t looking at Cass, she was looking at him.

“Down.” Cass motioned

Just as he did a swing cleared above his head. 

“Left, right,” she continued.

Tim followed.

“Stab. right.”

Tim was somehow still on his feet.

“Down. right. right. Jump” 

Tim was tiring. The ninja was too fast.

“Left. stab. Block. Jump-”

Tim had not built up a fully grown assassin's stamina. He did not jump. He did land though (on his back, but it counts).

He found the assassin looking down at him.

“So you are not quite hopeless.” Tim hated how the smallest affirmation felt warm, “Try again.”

Nevermind. Tim needed rescuing and he needed it now.

Chapter Text

The second spar was not set up with Tim facing Cass. The first few hits had Tim scrambling to block the incoming attacks. The assassin smiled and raised her staff in a way that was familiar.

Tim dodged, realising that there was an opening to the left. Tim put all his Star Wars-induced tactics to strike; quickly discovering it was a false opening. 

He had overextended his weapon and was not prepared to switch back to blocking.

He found himself looking up at the assassin again head against the shag carpet.

She was looking down at him in a contemplative manner.

“I take it you’ve never sparred with a bo, before?”

“No-” Tim started, that was rude “No, madam.”

“Lady Shiva, If you must. Now what went wrong?”

Tim found that Lady Shiva was, for all her flaws, a competent listener. Tim described the missed opportunities, and lack of foresight uninterrupted. She nodded along, and once Tim finished tossed him a water bottle.

“Anything to add?” she asked Cass, who was about halfway out of her restraints.

Cass froze, with the realization she had been caught, but the assassin looked disinclined to strike.

“Go on, Share with the class.”

“Why?” Cass carefully sounded out the word. Tim was more shocked by Cass’s second word, than what followed.

Shiva allowed a shallow smile.

“Because if you play your cards just right, I might let you go home.”

—------------ (2 weeks Later)

Bruce was doing better. He had, after a quick reality check with Barbara, stopped monitoring the kids daily routine. He finally felt they were safe enough, without any imaginary figure bending them into instruments of evil.

They may be growing more comfortable with the manor too. Sure it had taken a month after the readmission of Harvey to Arkham Asylum, but changes had been made. 

The Brown girl began tagging along to sparring matches and sneaking snacks from the plates Alfred happened to leave about exclusively on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On those days the cave felt busy, full, alive. 

He remembered Jason rambling about having always wanted younger siblings. He remembered how his son adopted so many crime alley kids, they had to adjust patrol routes in order to accommodate home visits when CPS inevitably became involved. Maybe, just maybe, Jason would forgive him for this. He was getting younger siblings after all, just a little too late.

On other fronts, Jim was passing along clues again, without being asked.

Lucius had stopped looking at him like he was a muddy puppy tracking dirt over freshly mopped floors, now that he had the time to show his face more than once a week.

Better yet Clark had stopped sending him links to suicide support groups. Clark had complained about a Batmobile waking up his parents in the middle of the night, but it was better than the regular spam sent to his Batphone.

No one was expected in the Batcave on a Wednesday, which made it a perfect place to hide from the disaster that was Dick begging Alfred to teach him how to fry an egg. 

Bruce felt he was self-aware enough to know that the combined power of him and his son in the kitchen, was not something the manor could survive.

So the cave-

The cave should be empty, peaceful, and well not particularly loud.

“I know! He just started carrying this stick. He even brought it on the bus to school.”

Bruce rounded the corner to see Stephanie ranting to an invested Barbara, who had seemed particularly attached to her laptop recently. She shut it with a snap when Bruce stepped into the light.

Steph swiveled in her wheelchair to get a better look at the intruder.

“Hi B! We are just discussing a project. Just girl stuff. Thought we could use the cave”

Bruce froze at the blatant lie echoing about the cave. Barbara gave a look that clearly screamed leave it . 

Now, Bruce is not particularly good at walking away from everything. However, Barbara looked determined. A determined Barbara led to an untrained kid swinging from buildings under the title Batgirl, and surely this couldn't be any worse than that.

There was always paperwork Bruce could do at WE. He could check in with everything later.

No point in ruining the peace he just earned.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, Cass was actually easy on the scale of learning martial arts from trained assassins. 

Lady Shiva subscribed to the sink-or-swim method of training. When sparring she never chose to ignore openings and always parried strikes. She didn’t stop or correct until the fight was over. All too often it was. 

He learned his faults quickly like that.

The sparring matches between Cass and Shiva were insightful. He recognized moves he failed to counter and watched as Cass did what he never could, she kept up. Those sparring matches were longer, and often, both left sweaty and gasping for breath. The result was also not guaranteed.  On day three he added a tally board on the wall to track who won. Lady Shiva was currently ahead by five, but the gap was closing as Cass got more familiar with Shiva.

Training sessions in the cave were, in comparison, relaxed.

Steph showed up to raid the kitchen and cheer for the ‘reigning champion’. Half the time she ended up bugging Barb by the computer. Bruce wandered by and encouraged things like warm-ups, (something Lady Shiva never mentioned). On a rare occasion, three weeks into the double-mentee situation, he even offered lessons on baterang usage. 

The honest real problem was that it left Tim starved. Cass too, based on the rate his ramen stash was disappearing.

Steph walked clambered in one evening just as Tim succumbed to the need for two ramen packs. 

“You trying to fatten yourself up?”

“Hungry.”

“This is where my Mom would say you need more than carbs.”

“And what would she suggest?” Tim challenged between slurps.

“To me or to a patient?”

Tim shrugged.

“Well, to a patient she’d normally suggest eggs.”

Tim nodded, waiting.

“For me-,” she caught a look of Tim's face before he remembered to compose himself, “Don’t worry about it. Mom’s not dipping into B-man's pockets. Go with the eggs.” 

The next time Steph was in the apartment Tim offered her a ramen pack with a boiled egg.

“What's the catch?”

“Nothing.” Tim said owlishly at her

Steph opened the egg to find the yolk half green.

“How long did you cook these?”

Tim blinked.

“Well, I tried to boil them until they floated, but they were running out of water and they just weren’t floating so I double-checked... and that's how you boil perogies not eggs, so-”

“So you gave them to me since Cass wouldn’t trust it.”

“Basically.”

Steph squinted, before looking back at the egg.

“Glad the place didn’t burn down while you were at it I guess.” 

Tim squawked

“I can cook! I’m just, just out of practice!”

Steph raised an eyebrow over her half finished ramen. 

“Sure you are.”

—---------

Bruce resigned himself. If the Batcave was starting to feel like a community centre gym, with people wandering in at odd and infrequent hours, he had only himself to blame.

He started to clean up remnants of another project session from Barb and Steph. The two got along at least. They talked often and even took a turn on the mats for some classic boxing once in a while, but they always left a trail; sticky-notes and glitter, doodles and caricatures. occasionally the odd sock, just to keep Bruce on his toes.

Most of it was unintelligible.

He looked down at the stack, a schedule blinking back at him.

0400- wake up

?0430- exit, unannounced

?

0700- bus stop

1600- return mtth

1800- return  f (hosp?)

2000- return w (work)

2130- normal shenanigans start (unsch)

0000- return (unsch)

This didn't feel like a normal 'girls project'.

He would need to keep an eye to see if intervention was needed, for now, he looked at the paper- maybe someone would look for it. 

He scanned the schedule before placing the whole heap into the 'not retrieved document box', ready for shredding in 48 hours unless asked for. Bruce froze realizing it was his version of a community center's lost and found.

Oh well. Jason would like it at least .

Chapter Text

Steph’s eyes snapped open with the sound of the door slamming. She blinked at her alarm clock; 3:30. It was well past the end of her mother's shift. She listened to the sound of her mother shuffling through, dropping bags at the entrance. Immediately following, the familiar sound of a shower running drowned all else out. 

Her room was lit with the lazy blue and red glow of a nearby police car. Her stomach rumbled again. Not now, she thought, it’s not time to eat yet. Her stomach disagreed.

Sleep had abandoned her. 

Steph groaned before rising, feeling the ache of a bruise where Cass had gotten her again . It had been a good night overall, lucrative even, but Cass was always Cass. 

She wandered to the kitchen, grabbing a plastic glass, and filling it halfway. It would be enough. 

Resigned, Steph snuck back to bed waiting for sleep to return. 

It didn’t.

At 4:00 the noise of a phone set to vibrate rattled her ceiling, followed by two hollow footsteps. Tim had a weird schedule but this was…

Half an hour passed, then 45 minutes. The shower was still running. Steph sat up. The shower was still running, Crystal never took that long.

She approached the door to the bathroom.

“Crystal?” she called. No response was heard. She knocked on the door loudly, “Mom?” Nothing.

This was off. Steph grabbed her baseball and threw it against the ceiling three times. No response. Of course, Tim would fall back asleep, why would he think he could wake up at 4 in the morning on purpose? It's alright. She could do this.

Steph opened the door. 

Her mother was there, lying in the tub, the shower water pouring over her, breathing slowly. Think of the positives. Breathing. 

“Mom!” she shook her

Crystal slowly blinked her eyes.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Get up! I thought you’d drowned or somethin'!” Steph was panicking, she knew she was panicking. It's Ok, her mom was still alive. Panicking was still on the menu.

“It’s ok, Sephy.” Crystal seemed to be inspecting her panicked face, “I know better than to fill the tub when I’m like this.”

“You scared me!”

“Darlin’ Stephanie, I wouldn’t do that. You’re too small.” she reached out as if to pat Steph, and really she almost did, “I can’t leave you alone.”

Steph had seen enough. She shut off the water that had been splashing on both of them. 

“Then get out of the tub and be there.”

She waited for Crystal to start moving before stepping out of the room. 

There in the silence, she found the ball still lying on the ground where she left it.

She threw it at the ceiling three more times. 

Silence was all that responded.

—---

Steph was more surprised to see Tim at the bus stop than anything. Mostly because she hadn’t slept since his alarm went off, and she hadn’t seen Tim return either. He didn’t take the normal stairs past her halfway. Even worse, he approached the bus stop from the wrong direction.

“Morning shift?” 

Tim just shrugged.

“You’re here early.”

“Couldn't sleep.”

Tim shifted a little with that statement, swinging around that dumb stick. Another thing for the suspicious happenings notes. 

—

Tim’s alarm went off the next morning at 4 AM while Stephanie mopped up vomit in the kitchen.

It went off three days later, while Steph packed lunch for Crystal, before her mother was awake enough to realize she hadn’t made it herself.

It kept going off, and Tim never answered. 

She squinted at his sagging form on the bus. Of course, there was more going on.

Barb watched the security footage.

Now, she wasn’t happy about it. 

She had heard somewhere that you pick up habits from those you hang out with. If that meant she could blame this on Bruce, then so be it, because why else was she checking to see when Timothy Drake visits the hospital? This was the sort of behaviour she had just finished dragging B over. Unfortunately, it was only after the Bat had laid off that the kids' patterns became concerning.

It was a sinking feeling bolstered by Steph, who had approached her one evening 'cause I can't be the one to look after everyone'

.

So Barb did the only thing she could do now, she watched. She hacked things so she could watch more, she calculated routes that Batgirl would have been thrilled to discover on foot, she gathered evidence, built a file, and waited. 

She glared at the batgirl uniform she had been picking apart from the seams. Ok, watching wasn’t the only thing she could do. 

She would intervene eventually, just not quite the way she used to.

Chapter Text

The library was quiet, as Barb handed in her application. 

This, she knew, was the real chance to start over. Everything in the cave was built on mistakes and regrets. They were etched into the cave as much as they traced across her father's face. Now don’t get Barb wrong. Shel loves that cave. She loves the ten-screen computer system and the old-fashioned elevator someone must have fished out of the actual basement in order to install it directly into the cave system. She loves the feeling of using tragedy and turning it into a force for good. She could see it there. Had seen it there. However, the same thing that was supposed to be a force for good, had also been a wrecking ball, knocking into the carefully balanced life she had crafted. She needed to do something, be anything that wasn’t based on secrets and Wayne weirdness; So she applied.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t been familiar with the library already. The Librarians already knew her by name. It wasn’t like she didn't know the shelves, or didn't already help other patrons find what they were looking for. It was a perfect fit, or would be if she wasn’t spending her free time commuting between a physio centre and a dumb bat cave in Bristol.

She fixed a smile before rolling up to the desk.

She was just applying anyway. If she couldn’t make it work, no big deal.

So Barbara loved her library job. You couldn’t find a better job for an individual with a scary wide scope of interests and an incredibly short people-battery.

She loved reading to the kids at 5:00 PM on Tuesdays. She loved how the management gave her space, instead of hovering over everything she did. She loved how her co-workers gave her ten extra minutes on her breaks, to work through a few stretches the physiotherapist suggested. She felt at home in a way she hadn’t since-, no, she was not going there. The point is she was helping people, and it felt good.

On the days Barb worked she opted to ignore whatever cryptic texts B would send. She couldn’t commute over there, just to stare at a computer again. When Barb was in the library, she was taking a break from whatever else could be going on.

Stephanie didn’t exactly get the memo, evidently.

It was a cool evening, not more than two months after Barb had taken up sparring with Steph in her spare time.Steph was pacing up and down the little length of the front desk, with the energy that always accompanied the young teen.

“I don’t think we had an appointment.”

“It’s Cass and Tim!”

“What do you mean ‘it's Cass and Tim’? Is she hurt, did he do something dumb?”

“No, yes, N-I don’t know! I stopped by his apartment after school and he was packing a bag. He said he was going on a trip for school, but then he said Cass was going too, -and she doesn’t legally exist, in order to go on a school trip. I looked in his backpack and there was a passport -and they left by rooftop again -and the whole time Cass looked nervous, like ‘I don’t like what's happening'-nervous, and that's not normal. When Cass doesn’t like something she just throws something at it!”

Barb looked at the girl rambling in front of her. 

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to go after them, but I don’t even know where to go.”

Barb almost said ‘let me text B’. She almost said ‘I’ll keep an eye on airports tonight’. She almost just said ‘good luck’, but none of that felt right. 

“You want to run off and go against someone who makes a trained assassin nervous?”

Steph nodded.

Barbara sighed, looked around to see if there was anyone around, and then ushered her into the lunch room, where her downtime projects sat. 

The suit was ready, had been ready for weeks. Initially, she broke it down to help process that she wasn’t Batgirl. Afterward, while listening to people talk about the symbol Batgirl was she began to sew it together again. It helped remind her that Batgirl wasn’t Barb, at least not anymore. 

If she had adjusted the suit to Stephanie's size that was just because she was a convenient set of measurements. If she inserted purple panels with improved Kevlar, that was just to distance herself from it. A small part of Barb had been tempted to give it to Steph to use in the fighting ring. Afterall, it would be nice to know Steph would be at least a marginal bit safer, but there wasn’t really anything more she could hope for.

She held out the bag.

“Here. If you are about to put yourself in the position to be stabbed, I’d feel better if you were wearing this.”

Steph starred.

“Okay but-”

“Make sure you wear the cowl too, it's got a comm in it so we can talk while you are running around out there.”

“Does this mean-”

“I’d rather whoever is out there go after a discontinued vigilante than target you personally, so if I’m gonna help you track them down, you’re gonna wear it. ‘Kay?”

Steph looked like she was going to burst open.

“Okay! Where am I going to change?”

“Not in a public library with cameras, that's for sure. Head out. My shift will be over in twenty minutes anyway. I’ll send you a text when I’m home and set up. Okay?”

Steph almost bounded out of the library. Barbara sighed, hoping this was the right choice. It probably wasn’t, but she could hope.

Chapter Text

 If Stephanie Brown had one less thing to worry about, she might have gone about things a different way. Steph had lived without her Mom before, between 16-hour shifts and nights when her mother was otherwise occupied. She had lived without the safety net of her upstairs neighbors before, as well. She just didn’t know if she wanted to go without both of them,

Again.

There was no one in her apartment to see the new batgirl outfit unveiled, because that was what it was, for all the newly added purple; a batgirl suit. Steph gave up on fitting all her hair into the cowl and let it fall out. She had other worries, like tracking down her friends and beating an explanation out of them.

The comm in her ear burst into static before a voice spoke on the other end.

“S you there?”

“Sure thing B”

“You are not calling me B.”

“Then what? BG?”

She heard the older girl let out a groan of frustration.

“Just call me O if you have to call me anything.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Yes, it does. Its short for omnipotent or something. Now do you want directions to your missing compatriots?”

“You found them?”

“Head toward the old opera building. Cass seemed to feel like leaving a trail this time.”

—------------------------------------

Talia's task was more than completed. Lady Shiva knew the truth of the newspaper incident, she had ensured the wellbeing of the Bat, and she hadn’t been caught.

She might have been a little distracted, but that was of no matter. What harm would come out of gaining another two apprentices? It felt reminiscent in a way that made her almost soft.

Lady Shiva was more than aware of the trips to the Batcave. She never interrupted them, it was, after all additional practice, but she could see just how far a reach Batman and his morals seemed to have on her apprentices. 

She wanted to move on to the next part of training; the harder parts of training, really. The no-kill rule was getting in her way, so she figured some distance would be beneficial. 

There was only a little bit of threatening involved, before the Drake boy had pulled the strings to make the trip seem school sanctioned.

All Shiva had to do was line up the transport. 

They met on the opera roof, crossing the skyline to avoid cameras. The boy began looking nervous when the path swerved away from the airport, towards the bay.

Cassandra began to wander.

They were dragging their feet, no surprise there. Shiva squinted at the skyline, catching sight of a flash of purple in the distance. She saw how her apprentices almost veered towards it.

No. 

She would not allow her hours to be wasted. These were her apprentices, they would finish the training.

—----------------------------------------

It wasn’t the appearances of Bruce's childr-wards that clued him that something was wrong. Rather it was the appearance of an affiliate being circulated on social media. This triggered an alert on the bat-computer, and Bruce, who was eating supper in the cave, with the suit off, (a great improvement really) happened to be nearby to see it.

‘Did I just see Batgirl do parkour off my van? Because I think I just saw Batgirl do parkour off my van.’ one post captioned an image of a blurry figure jumping off the hood of a van from the inside of a windshield. There was a cape draped around shoulders, a peak of what was probably blonde hair, and possibly two spikes that would have been the ears on a cowl if the image had managed to be more in focus.

It couldn’t really be batgirl, he knew Barb hadn’t recovered enough or dyed her hair for that matter, so he shouldn’t be worried, but…

He sent Barb a text anyway.

“You working today?”

The response was short

“Just off.”

“So you are not running around in traffic all dressed up, correct?”

“Correct.” 

Bruce sagged in relief. He did not want to explain that to Jim Gordon.

“S is though.”

Bruce was going to die, not in the suit, but in front of a computer, in the Batcave of a heart attack. Alfred was going to have to choose between dumping his body downstream or calling the officials to make the Batcave a crime scene. 

“Chasing after T+C. Been sketch”

“Alone?”

“I’ve got eyes on her.”

Bruce swiveled in his office chair to see where Alfred was polishing the spoons.

“I’m going out.”

“Should I provide you with another clock? It’s not quite time for the night shift.” 

Bruce sighed.

“I know.”

Alfred leveled him a look.

“I’ll be careful.”

Alfred seemed to wordlessly transmit the phrase ‘You’d better’.

Bruce slunk away to the change rooms, dreading the evening ahead.

Chapter Text

Someone got the message at least. 

Tim had feared, somewhere in his shrivelled heart, that his Gotham-raised, radioactive bones would be scraped out of Europe a thousand years from now, and become an exhibit titled ‘the mystery of the misplaced child’. Parents would tut and vow to hold their children close. The archaeologists would nod, flash smiles, and make millions before returning to their hotel, and listening to the voicemail from their very own child, which they would never remember to respond to.

The sight of Steph's blond hair was enough to get him to start shifting away. Small bits of course, he just ran slower, chose alternate routes, and angled a little farther away. It worked for a little bit. Shiva tutted as she noticed his pace lagging behind. 

Finally, she stopped to face him. No, that was not what Tim wanted.

“Dépêchez-vous” she grumbled (Hurry up)

Tim stood on a building, trying to angle himself so that Steph was not visible. No, that wouldn’t work; he needed to distract her.

“Have you ever thought about your place in the universe?”

Shiva stared at him like he had grown a new head.

“You know, here we are, running across rooftops while millions of people work below. If I were to drop something out of my pockets, it could fall and hit someone. Cause them to bump into someone else. A fight could break out. The police could arrive. Then someone's in jail, all because I forgot to close my pockets-”

“What are you trying to-” Shiva stalked towards him.

“What if my only purpose in life is to cause the event that leads someone's father to jail?”

Lady Shiva lunged. A knife Tim hadn’t noticed in her hand shot across towards him.

Tim ducked, watching it slice through the air he had just stood in and pass behind him. Next, he heard a swear. It was a familiar voice, dripping with a classic crime alley accent.

He was vaguely aware that Cass had left his side and moved toward the voice. Tim turned his back away from the assassin to face Steph, holding the edge of a mask. The throwing knife was lying flat on the roof beside her. Tim stared for an extra moment.

Turns out, when Cass called him an idiot, she was right. One second, Tim was watching Steph brush away the scratch marks on her mask; the next, Steph and Cass were lunging for him as he was hoisted into a chokehold.

“I think you’ll find it's time to let my apprentices go,” she hissed. 

Steph raised her fists like that was a challenge.

“Make me.”

This was a bad idea. Tim was confident he was better at fighting than he had been when this had all started. He had trained with Shiva and Batman after all. He still wasn’t going to win a fight like this. Steph didn’t have that training.

“What makes you think I need to indulge in this fight?” Lady Shiva asked, chokehold tightening against his windpipe. Tim tried to pry the arm away, but it was difficult. If asked, he would blame this on missing the luxury of his feet touching the ground.

“It's not going to be practical. Carrying Shrimpy, and catching Sneaky while I throw fists. So, let's simplify this. Fight me.”

Tim gasped for air, watching Cass back away from Steph.

Suddenly, Tim felt his windpipe release. Air flooded in as Tim crumbled onto the tarred and pebbled roof.

It was almost more comical that Lady Shiva listened than anything.

She tilted her head to the side.

“Now you have fought before,” she nodded, and then threw a dagger.

—--------------------

Bruce’s comm crackled to life as he shot down the streets.

“You know how I said I was keeping an eye on it?” Barb asked

“Hmm?”

“Turns out Steph doesn’t like listening to instructions either. She's about to fist fight Shiva.”

The average car had enough common sense to swerve out of the way as Batman hit the gas. 

—------------------------

Steph was done. Her life had never been great. It was still 'sob-story on a college application' levels of not great, but it had been improving. She had two friends who listened and looked out for her. If she was going to lose them, it was going to be with two broken bones and a bullet where it didn't belong.

“That is a trained assassin, Steph, you can not engage-” Steph elected to ignore her earpiece.

“Fight me.”

The assassin lady obliged... with another throwing knife.

Stephanie would like to clarify that she had enough self-preservation to know this was dumb. A lady whose first reaction was to throw a throwing knife would likely have another knife somewhere on her person and have qualms about tossing it.

Steph would like to think that the reason she was so confident was because she was soo at home with her fists. However, Steph was well aware she was a thirteen-year-old facing a grown woman. The reality was that she was just as willing to use her own weapons. On paper, that was just a brass knuckle. In this case, it was Cass.

The second knife most certainly should have been an unfortunate end to her entire encounter. Cass just happened to be ready to knock the assassin off kilter. 

The knife clattered on the roof before falling over the edge of the building. Were those sirens getting closer?

The assassin turned to grab Cass, which was a no-no in Steph's books. So Steph wound up, fight ring style, and gave a punch. The impact had a bit of a crunch to it. Bringing those brass knuckles had been a good idea. The kick Steph received in retaliation didn’t feel good, but at least it was not a knife. She stumbled back with the impact and took a moment to take in the situation. Cass seemed focused on knocking the assassin off balance. There was something about that interaction... Those two seemed to fight with a sort of familiarity. That was something Steph was going to have to ask about later.

First things first, she was going to need to keep that familiarity from becoming Cass’s downfall. So Steph readied herself. She found an opening in the assassin's movements and launched for another punch.

She was half aware of the corner of the assassin's mouth quirked up somewhere during her launch. Then, once all her energy was released and there was no backing out, the assassin struck. The second kick knocked her further away this time. 

Too far away. 

Beyond the edge of the graveled rooftop. 

Chapter Text

One thing Shiva taught Tim was that a missed opening is as bad as a landed blow.

Sometime after clearing his lungs, Tim turned to find Steph, Cass, and Shiva completely absorbed in their fight. Not one glance in his direction.

That was fine. Tim could be invisible. That's what his life had been.

He scanned the rooftop. Spotting the first discarded throwing knife where it had been left. Cautiously, he made his way around the trio, careful to keep down and quiet.

He was rather close to the edge. Nervously, he glanced over to see the Batmobile pull up on the side street, half a dozen cop cars following. Normally, that would be his priority, but not today. He picked up the knife and moved away from the edge slowly, watching for the sort of opening he could make without hitting his friends.

There almost was one, but Steph launched for it… and then she fell.

If Tim were different, bigger, faster, smarter, he could have caught her, but no. Tim was just himself. He listened as if he could somehow hear her fall, but of course, there was nothing. He turned to face the criminal. Shiva was still well and truly occupied with Cass and her attacks, nonchalant, as if nothing had happened. Maybe that was why Tim didn’t hate her before this. That was an attitude his own mother carried.

Tim looked at the knife in his hand.

He was a criminal already. If his doom was in jail anyway, did it really matter where he tried to hit?

He looked over at the edge where Steph had fallen, blocking his view of the world below.

Of course it didn’t.

He looked back at the fight, right as the opening made itself clear.

He knew what it would look like if someone got a knife there. He had been stuck trying to stop the bleeding more often than not.

As Tim released the knife, the reality dawned on him. It would feel no better causing that sort of wound. It was too late anyways. There was blood, and a lot of it.

Shiva turned, half a smile on her face, applying pressure to her own neck.

“Good shot.”

Then she slowly, bracing herself in the process, sank to the ground.

Cass was staring at Tim, horror in her eyes. Tim didn’t feel so hot either. He bent in half and emptied his stomach contents. Where do you go from here?

—-----------------------------

If Bruce had been half a second later, there would have been no going back.

As it was, Steph was screaming in his arms as he grappled away from the fight on the roof and the cops, who presumably descended on the Batmobile. 

“You have to go back!” Steph shouted, “There's a crazy assassin about to murder Cass.”

Bruce looked at the kid in his arms.

“I will.”

Steph  wouldn’t of course, but there was no way he could leave the others with Lady Shiva of all people. He landed on a building he knew had a working fire escape and attempted to give the instructions he knew would not be listened to.

“Stay.”

As a precaution, he got Barb to call in Nightwing for this specific pickup. 

There was a pit in the bottom of Bruce's stomach as he returned to the building. Half of him was just thankful he didn’t see signs that anyone else had taken the tumble off the roof.

He wasn’t exactly happy to see the flash of cameras below, but what was he to do with that?

He swung onto the roof, preparing for the fight of his life, but instead he found himself facing a different scene. 

First, there was red. Then there was Tim’s panicked voice.

“Press harder!" "No, this isn’t what I normally do, but I normally have a suture kit!”

He finally took in two of his kids, fumbling over the still-breathing body of one of the most feared assassins alive to date.

Bruce cleared his throat.

Tim turned, hands still pressed against the wound.

“Arrest me later. I’m doing first aid!”

Bruce opened and closed his mouth a few times, but nothing came out. Running on habit, Bruce attempted to get closer, but there was no way with two people crowding the wound. He patted his utility belt before he pulled out his own, brand-new and sterile suture kit. He crouched down, cleared his throat again and offered it out. 

Tim angrily half turned, ready to argue, and then froze seeing Bruce's hand. Not a moment later, Tim grabbed the suture kit and went to work.

Bruce didn’t give a lot of stitches; the last time had been before Jason…. He reserved that skill for doctors or Alfred. Even so, he kept it on hand for emergencies. It was odd, watching up close a literal child sew up an actual, potentially fatal wound.

When it was done, Tim and Cass stepped back, hands covered in blood. Cass looked tired and wary. That was the adrenaline leaving her system. 

Tim? Tim looked distant. 

Bruce didn’t know how to stop that look, so he reached out. Grabbing his children into a hug wasn't smooth. The batsuit was armour after all, but it felt needed. So they stood there, looking over the city below as the cameras flashed in the distance. He should really check on Lady Shiva. He should make sure Nightwing caught Steph during her inevitable flight and make sure she had a grapple with her new suit. Bribe Barbara into deleting those photos...

He was sure leaving a lot of mess for tomorrows Bruce.

Chapter Text

Alfred cleans when stressed. After seeing his ward run out in a batsuit before the sun even set, Alfred decided the living room must be dusted. 

Ah, but dusting is boring. Since the owner of the house was not around, no harm would be done by watching the Gotham Daily. He could even turn it up.

“Breaking news: Gotham's local cryptid real?” 

Killer Croc got caught in public, He thought absentmindedly, no wonder Bruce was in a rush.
 
But the news show didn’t switch to green skin or sewer pipes.  Instead, it panned to the skyline where his son swung away with a girl in purple. Next came another shot, less blurry this time; Batman standing on the edge of a building, two black haired heads peaking out from his cape. 

That couldn’t be Bruce. Bruce was better than that. 

It switched to another scene with an ambulance; Vicki Vale's voice giving her own interpretation.

 “-when officials arrived at the scene, the Batman, or any possible accomplices, had vanished. One woman was to be taken to the hospital for possibly lethal lacerations. No signs of struggle were seen, and the wound had been sewn closed. Officers were expecting to question the woman, the only witness as to what happened; however, by the time the ambulance reached the Gotham General, the victim had vanished from the ambulance. With many questions and no one to foot the ambulance bill, Officer Gordon has more”

It flipped to a tired-looking Jim Gordon trying to fend off journalists while yellow tape was stretched around the Batmobile.

“I ask that the curious Gotham citizens move on from who this Batman is, and turn to better ones. There are at least two minors involved in this situation, and while we are thankful to have avoided what appears to have been a tragedy, their whereabouts are still unknown. GCPD will continue to look into this situation. If anyone has any information regarding the whereabouts of the children, the victim, or anyone posing as Batman, I request you leave a tip or contact me personally.”

Alfred sighed and put down his duster. This might take a phone call.

-Ring Ring Ring-

“Alfred!” Barbara sounded entertained, “Glad you could call!”

“Did you take over my position on the comms just to watch Master Bruce make a scene?”

“I’m on it, I’m on it. Dad agreed to play ‘catch-the-mysterious-Batman-I-totally-don’t-go-for-coffee-with’, Clark has some interesting new journal articles on new high-tech 3-D imagery, and Dick and Wally have a bet on who can steal the Batmobile faster.”

Alfred let out a sigh,

“You should be prepared for incoming, though. Nothing too bad, just the regular rambunctious three. Oh, and a blue, bird-themed Uber, you know the one. I might be a little busy tonight. I need to photoshop a few faces out for stock photos before the kids get recognized. See you!”

—---------------------------------------------------------

Tim was well aware this was all his fault. If he didn’t resort to blackmail, if he hadn’t kept silent when Lady Shiva made her offer, if he wasn’t so desperate, none of this would have happened.

Now he was standing in the familiar Batcave, because that's how the Batcave felt now, trying to hold onto some thread of the world he managed to topple like a card house.

Alfred was in the med-area, giving Cass a checkup. Dick was digging through the bat freezer to find ice for Steph, who was sitting with Cass. 

“Mr Wayne Sir…”

Batman looked down at him, still working at removing the last remains of the eyeshadow, now that his cowl was off.

“It’s Bruce, I thought we’d been over this.”

“Yes, but I understand I’ve made quite a mess…”

Bruce remained silent.

“Just don’t take it out on the others. Cass was really just trying to make sure I didn’t hurt myself, she didn’t know I was going to almost kill someone, and Steph didn’t even know about anything…”

Bruce stared at him like he was trying to find something on Tim's face that would make everything clear.

“I know the deal was to not associate with anyone else, and I know that when I threw that knife, it was an attempt to- to…”

Bruce interrupted,

“How did you know how to sew up that wound?”

“Well, you know I have been stitching up the goons you leave for a while now. The battarangs are practically themed throwing knives, and you are pretty generous with them…”

“You are saying I have left multiple people in the same shape as the one person you injured back there?”

Tim hesitantly nodded.

“You injured one person, who was already attacking you, and immediately turned to do whatever you could to keep them alive?”

Tim nodded again.

“How many times have you seen me do that?”

“Not… since Jason,” Tim mumbled.

Bruce knelt down to better see Tim’s eyes.

“Then you just did better than I have for the last year and a half.” 

He seemed to take in the sheer amount of blood on Tim's person, as if he had forgotten it beforehand.

“Now, is any of that blood yours?” 

Tim shook his head,

“Better go visit Alfred, just in case. I bet you he already brought down a fresh pair of clothes you can also change into.” 

Tim watched for a moment before realizing Bruce had just given him a task. Bruce just nodded and turned back to his bat-themed make-up remover.

At the med station, Steph was making some awful joke about how she and Cass were going to share the Batgirl cowl, since they both made it in the news. Dick appeared to be on speakerphone with Barbara, discussing bomb impacts among other things that required the GCPD blueprints, and Alfred- Alfred had a chair, just for him.

No strings.

No promises with loopholes to exploit.

Just a chair, and a first aid kit, waiting.

Chapter Text

Bruce was not surprised when the commissioner phoned with a quiet warning.

“You’d better have a plan for this.”

Bruce had a plan, he had several, including foster homes he had personally investigated and discussions with the Kents regarding their will to foster.

Instead, once the kids were checked over, he wandered up to his less secure Wayne office and verified that his status as an approved foster care home was still up to date. He then returned to make sure that the kids all made it to the kitchen, where Alfred was pulling out snacks that Bruce never saw when he had the munchies.

He watched the kids as they got herded into rooms on the family wing, and then went back to listen in on Dick as he happily plotted ways to make it harder for Wally to steal the Batmobile.
He listened to Barbara tell Dick exactly how his plan would fail, and when he asked how she was so sure, she cackled in a way that could only be ominous. 

“Maybe I’m an oracle.” 

And of course she was. Bruce had watched her change her codename remotely, overnight, while changing her status from ‘retired’ to ‘active’.

He didn’t make his next move until he heard over the comms that Nightwing's plan had backfired spectacularly, and both of them had triggered alarms in the GCPD compound.

He then tracked down his most ridiculous silk night robe and his favourite cat-eared slippers and turned on the TV to a channel that was still rehashing the evening's events. What else would an oblivious billionaire do with three missing persons under his roof? He pulled out his public phone and dialled the tip line.

“Evening, this is Bruce Wayne. I just turned on the News. I hear you're looking for the children who were spotted with the man in cat ears? Batman, I think- Now he didn’t exactly introduce himself, but he dropped off a few children at my door. We’ve just gotten them to bed, so don’t worry about that, but if you want to send someone over to check up on then, it would make me and my butler feel so much better-”

The panicked tip operator hurriedly transferred him to the commissioner, so Bruce could repeat the same tale.

When social services showed up, Bruce was ready.

A tired Stephanie said she had phoned her mother. One hushed call between a panicked CFS worker and what was presumably Stephanie's mother, and the worker occurred before she beckoned Bruce to the phone.

“I’m so sorry, but there’s no way I can make it to Bristol-”

Bruce assured the woman it was okay. Steph could stay the night and be dropped off tomorrow. 

A zombie like Tim was summoned next.

Perhaps it was fortunate that this child did most of his adventures before he fell asleep. His exhausted brain stalled when asked if he could phone his uncle.

“Oh, I haven't hired one yet-”

Bruce shared a look with the CFS lady. It was quickly settled between the two. Tim would stay for emergency foster care placement.

When Cass emerged just before Bruce could go looking for her, she smiled.

Bruce had to explain that Cass didn’t talk and demonstrated his excellent sign language skills. The worker was forced to admit she didn’t know if she had anyone else ready to take on a child who was fluent in sign language. She might as well stay until they could find a neutral interpreter to discuss Cass's opinion on the matter.

There were forms, because of course there were, and a meeting scheduled for tomorrow, but that hardly mattered as he waved the woman off and saw the children back into their respective rooms.

He stopped, after Cass had been convinced that she also needed sleep, in front of an empty room with an old ‘Keep out’ sign taped to the front.

“Sleep well.” he told the hallway, three beds, and a grave he didn’t have the heart to visit. He really hoped they all would.