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It’s late at night and Tim can’t sleep.
The nightmares have gotten better in the last two weeks since he’s confided in Jason, but that doesn’t mean they’ve stopped altogether. He still sees Bianchi, still feels dread well in his chest as his nostrils are overrun with the smell of mildew and metal, still wants to run as hands grasp his fingers and twist. Despite how much they scare him, he knows he can’t always run to Jason’s room down the hall. He doesn’t want to interrupt the teen’s already minimal sleep. Besides, even if he wanted to, Jason’s not here right now.
Batman and Robin are out on their normal patrol; by Tim’s best estimates, they have another hour in the city at least. By the time they get back, both would probably be so exhausted that they wouldn’t want to do much more than shower and fall into bed. Even if Jason says he doesn’t mind, he can’t, in good conscious, be the reason the circles under the teen’s eyes grow even darker.
He’s already done everything he can think of to fall back asleep, breathing exercises, counting sheep, visualizing a relaxing environment, doing half sit ups in bed to tire himself out, everything. Despite all this, his mind still won’t quiet enough to let him sleep.
The one thing his impromptu exercise has left him though is thirsty. Considering he won’t be going to bed any time soon, his best option is to at least get a drink. Tim sighs as he carefully slides out of bed. He grabs the crutches propped against the wall and makes his way to the kitchen.
Alfred says that his ankle is healing nicely and will probably continue to do so as long as he gets proper rest and nutrition. Tim almost snorts at the thought. He’s never exactly been the poster child for getting the recommended eight hours of sleep a night. His restlessness has only gotten worse after arriving at the manor. Nonetheless, Tim tries his best to follow the butler’s instructions and use his crutches to move around the house, even if it’s a bit less than ideal with his broken fingers still healing too.
He finally reaches his destination, requiring far more time and effort than hobbling down the hall ever should. He takes a moment to catch his breath before starting on his search for a glass. It doesn’t take Tim long to find one. It seems that Alfred had enough foresight to leave a few plastic cups with straws stuck in them on the middle of the kitchen island. Tim carefully props his crutches against the cabinets and uses both his palms to pick up one of the cups and fill it with water from the tap.
His fingers are still splinted for another couple days making the simple act of getting a drink a multi-step process. Eventually though, Tim settles himself at the table in the adjacent dining room. He slowly sips from his straw and attempts to calm himself down. The only sound besides his drinking is that of the grandfather clock ticking away steadily in the next room over.
“Master Tim, I had a feeling you might be up and about.” The voice startles Tim, almost causing him to drop the cup in his palms. Luckily he regains his composure before creating a spill that would be hard to clean up in his current state.
Tim had completely forgotten about Alfred. Usually when Batman and Robin were out crime fighting “Agent A” was down in the Batcave doing… whatever Alfred did. Tim assumes that he monitors the comm units and prepares the med bay in the event one of the dynamic duo returns injured. He’s never been able to confirm his suspicions, though, as he’s never been down in the cave while the vigilantes are out.
“Good evening, Alfred.” The first name still feels foreign on his tongue as opposed to the much more proper “Mr. Pennyworth” he had been using. Both the butler and Bruce had agreed that, given how Tim was staying with them for the time being, it was more than appropriate for him to drop the formalities with them.
“Besides,” Jason had said. “You know that Bruce is Batman. I think that more than gives you the right to call him whatever the hell you want.”
“I couldn’t help but hear some commotion in the kitchen. Is everything alright?” The heat rushes to Tim’s face as he shrinks down in his seat. He was unaware of just how loud he was being while he got himself a drink. He supposes that he’s become so accustomed to rummaging through his own kitchen at home without repercussions that he hadn’t really thought too hard about keeping his noise level down. No matter how loud he’s been at home, it’s rare that there’s anybody there to hear him. On the rare occasion that his parents were home, they were too jet lagged and exhausted to be bothered by what their son was doing at midnight on a Wednesday night.
“I’m sorry, I was just finishing up here.” Tim reaches for his crutches next to his chair. “I’ll get back to bed and make sure I’m quieter next time.” He fumbles his crutch, resulting in it falling to the ground with a loud smack. He reaches down, though not being able to bend his fingers makes picking the metal up near impossible with how he’s trying to go about the task. “Ah, sorry again for that.”
Before Tim can find a way to maneuver his crutch back into an upright position, Alfred bends down and scoops it up. He props it back against the table with more grace than the task probably warrants. The ease of the butler’s actions only serves to make Tim’s face even redder.
“Thank you.” His finds his gaze directed at the crutches rather than the man in front of him.
“It’s quite alright.” Alfred walks into the kitchen. “And please, do not feel that you need to leave on account of my appearance. I was just going to fix myself a warm cup of tea. I would offer you some, however I doubt you would have much luck drinking something so hot through a straw.”
“That’s okay. I’m more of a coffee person anyway.” That gets a quick eyebrow raise from Alfred. He turns his head so Tim can see the curious expression as well.
“Is that so? I have never heard you request coffee with your meals in the morning.”
“Well, like you said, it’s not like I could drink something like that when I can’t drink directly from the mug so I didn’t really see a point in asking.” Tim shrugs, taking a sip of water to avoid looking at Alfred. By the time he’s done and looks back up, the butler is already turned back toward his task of setting up the electric kettle.
“There are quite a few cold brews on the market that would solve that particular problem.”
“I’ve never been a big fan of those… too sweet for me.” Alfred lets out a snort of amusement at the young teen’s statement.
“Then I suppose I’ll have to take care to brew enough coffee to accommodate both you and Master Bruce once we remove your splints on Friday.”
“You’re going to let me have some? Just like that?”
“What reason would I have to withhold it from you?”
“Well, Mrs. Mac used to say that it would stunt my growth and refused to buy it for me.”
“However, despite forbidding it, you still were able to procure some for yourself, yes?” Tim stays silent, running his palms nervously over the dining room table. Alfred has never been overly reprimanding to Tim--mostly since he’s been too worried to do anything remotely impolite lest he asked to return home--but he’s still scared of the butler’s judgement. Despite Alfred’s calm and collected tone, he can’t help but feel he’s been caught red handed.
At the lack of response, Alfred continues on as if there’s been no lull in the conversation. As if Tim hasn’t just been sitting at the table, worrying over how the man perceives him for the past fifteen seconds.
“I realized a very long time ago, when Master Bruce was still young, that sometimes one must pick and choose their battles. I do not see the harm in letting a young adult make his own choices in what he decides to eat or drink.” The kettle whistles, and Alfred immediately begins to prepare his beverage. “Except in the case of Master Dick of course. I thoroughly believe that boy would have eaten nothing but cereal if I hadn’t stepped in and ensured he at least got some protein in his system.”
Tim smiles and relaxes slightly, thankful for the subtle shift in conversation topic. Somehow, Alfred just seems to get him; he knows exactly how to make him feel comfortable, no matter the situation. He knows when to pause to let him find his word and when to simply continue on. It’s not just him either, Tim knows. Alfred knows just how to talk and interact with Bruce and Jason seemingly perfectly as well.
Most Gotham socialites were prone to dismiss the man as nothing more than “the help,” a butler who only stayed at his job out of a misplaced sense of guilt over the death of his former employers and now is much too old to seek employment elsewhere. Even Tim’s parents would vocalize similar sentiments to one another any time they would see the Waynes at a gala. Tim had been inclined to believe his parents’ opinion until he actually began seeing the interactions between Bruce and Alfred for himself.
Tim’s had quite a few butlers in his life and even a handful of nannies to look after him in his younger years. None, however, had looked at him with quite the same pride and warmth as Alfred did when he straightened Bruce’s tie and clapped his shoulders before the CEO went up to give a speech. The feeling was obviously mutual as, while Alfred helped extensively with the set up various fundraising galas for the Martha Wayne Foundation, he never worked the events himself.
The same could be said about Dick and Jason too. Dick seemed to be able to win over anyone with his charisma, and Alfred was no exception. Tim has various photos under his bed back home of Dick in the middle of gesticulating wildly to Alfred wearing an exasperated, yet entertained, smile.
Jason, on the other hand, had always been the odd one out at charity functions, often finding a corner to stand and scowl in. Tim has less of those photos, but he still observed the behavior more times than he could ever count. No matter how sour his expression though, Alfred always made sure to check in on the boy and keep him company when possible. Living in the manor for the past month only served to further demonstrate how close the butler truly was to Jason. The two love each other, plain and simple, even if Jason can be a bit of a handful at times.
And so it throws Tim off when he recognizes the same warmth is present in Alfred’s eyes as he makes his way over to the table with his cup of tea. For a split second, his heart soars at the thought that such an expression might somehow be directed toward him. Then, however, his rational side takes over as it always does.
Don’t be stupid, Tim. He was just talking about Dick. He’s probably just getting sentimental thinking about how he’s all grown up now, that’s all.
He’s not sure how well he’s succeeded in keeping his emotions off his face, but based on how Alfred’s face has gone from affectionate to what Tim can only describe as appraising, he’ll say he didn’t look as neutral as he’d have hoped. At the very least though, Alfred doesn’t comment on it. He simply sits across from him and sips at his tea, waiting for Tim’s response.
“I mean, it’s natural for a nine year old to only eat what they like if they’re given the choice.” Tim replies.
“Oh no, I think there’s a slight misunderstanding.” Alfred shares a conspiratorial smile with him, which is seemingly contagious as a grin worms its way on Tim’s face as well “Master Dick was fourteen when he decided to go on such a diet.”
“Why in the world…?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, Master Tim. My theory is that he was competing in a bet against one of his friends, though I’ve never confirmed such suspicions. For all the intelligence he possesses, his ambition and passion will often do the majority of his decision making for him. Once he gets an idea in his head, only a few things can stop him.”
“And one of those things is you.” It’s not a question. Tim’s seen enough of the butler and how he operates to know that nobody, not even Batman himself, can say “no” to a sincere command from Alfred.
“I have been known to have a few tricks up my sleeve, yes.” Tim chuckles and Alfred’s eyes seem to grow softer. It must simply be a trick of the light though. There’s no reasonable explanation for the look otherwise.
Before either of them can say anything else, the grandfather clock sounds. It plays its signature tune and then lets out one, long peal to denote the time as one in the morning.
“I believe that is our cue that we should think about getting you settled in bed. It is a school night after all.” In one swift movement Alfred collects his cup as well as Tim’s and places them in the sink. As he’s doing this, Tim begins the process of maneuvering himself onto his crutches without being able to actually flex his fingers. Even with weeks of practice, it still poses quite the challenge.
“But… what if I want to stay up until 3 AM? Weren’t you just telling me about the importance of letting children have a hand in making their own choices?” Tim’s voice is not argumentative. In fact, the words come out haltingly and unsure. It’s not that he disagrees with Alfred’s suggestion of bed--his talk with the butler has definitely helped quiet some of his anxious energy--but rather he’s simply curious.
“Yes, however I believe this is another case like Master Dick’s where I must exercise my right to ‘veto’ what I consider I particularly poor decision.” Tim has finally propped himself up and begins his journey down the hall, Alfred slowing his stride to remain next to him.
“What about Jace though? He has school tomorrow too.” He regrets the words as soon as they come from his mouth, sure that he’s overstepped some boundary. It’s not Tim’s place to question Bruce’s, and by extension Alfred’s, methods in dealing with Jason. He’s being so rude after everything the Waynes have done for him. He can practically hear his mother’s disapproving voice saying “Goodness, where have your manners gone? We raised you to be better than this, Timothy.”
If Alfred minds though, he certainly doesn’t show it. His steps never falter and neither does his voice as he replies.
“I expect Master Bruce and Master Jason will be back shortly. I have imposed a strict one thirty curfew on the two of them. If they are not in the cave by the time I return, you can rest assured there will be more than a few words exchanged with them.” The idea of Batman following a curfew causes Tim to crack a smile, but besides that he says nothing. He’d rather not accidentally say something potentially offensive again if he can help it.
Before long, the pair reach Tim’s guest room. The teen climbs into the bed and, after a few seconds of struggling, pulls the covers up and around him. Alfred makes sure that he’s comfortable before turning off the light and leaving the room, making sure to keep the door cracked just the way Tim likes it.
Tim stares at the ceiling and thinks about the interaction he’s just had. In all honesty, a conversation with Alfred was probably one of the last things he would have thought would happen tonight. Not because it was unlikely the butler would check up on him--though that’s still a bit of a foreign concept in some ways--but rather since there were so many other things Alfred could have and really should have been doing.
Alfred spent his evenings down in the Batcave. Whatever he did, it had to be important enough that he made sure to be there every night no matter how much sleep it cost him. Tonight though, he had come to Tim and simply talked to him, just because he had been making noise in the kitchen. By all accounts it didn’t make sense. Batman and Robin were important; they needed all the help they could get to make sure they came back unharmed each and every night. He just couldn’t imagine any circumstances where “talking to Tim” ranked higher than “helping Batman.”
He rolls the thoughts over and over in his head, and before he’s exhausted his list of explanations and theories, he’s exhausted himself. For the first time, Tim is able to fall back to sleep after a nightmare without help from Jason.
Jason, Tim has discovered, is a bit of a sore loser.
“This is bullshit.” Jason grumbles, glaring down at the board in front of him on the floor. It’s not uncommon for the manor’s two younger residents to pass the time with a game. It’s interactive enough to keep Alfred off their case about “turning their brains to mush in front of a screen,” while also staying low on the amount of physical activity involved. Even though Tim had his splints removed the week prior, his ankle cast is still in place for next week and a half.
“You’re just mad because you only have two wedges while I have five.”
“There’s a reason why it’s called ‘Trivial Pursuit’ and not ‘Significant Pursuit,’ Timbo. It’s because these facts are all dumb as shit! Why on earth would I need to know who Ross Perot’s running mate in the 1992 presidential election was?”
“It’s called ‘Trivial Pursuit’ because it’s a pun. It wouldn’t be very witty of them otherwise.” Tim responds, ignoring Jason’s whining and rolls the dice.
“It’s dumb.” There’s not any actual fight behind his words. It seems the older teen has resigned himself to his fate of completing the game and losing horrendously.
“Maybe,” Tim shrugs nonchalantly. “But we’re the ones playing it so…”
“And whose fault is that?”
“It was my turn to pick. We played ‘Scrabble’ like you wanted last time.”
“Yeah, but at least we both had an equal chance with that one. I swear you have, like, half of these questions memorized.” Jason’s tone is a teasing one, but Tim has to keep himself from visibly tensing. Instead, he forces a small laugh and shakes his head.
Because Jason isn’t far off the mark. He does know quite a few of these questions already due to the sheer number of times he’s played the game. It was one of the few games he owned that he could play by himself without too much difficulty. As long as he made sure to keep the answers covered, he could complete the objective at hand all by himself. He found that much more rewarding than winning simpler games that were all luck based.
It made playing against an actual opponent a fairly new experience, but then again so many things in the past month were new to Tim. Family dinners, baking with Alfred, even passing greetings in the halls between him and the other members of the household are foreign ground. It’s nice and yet...
No matter how nice it is to finally have people around, it’s all too much sometimes. Tim knows how to be an student, he knows how to be a young master of the house to any maid he might talk to, he even has experience in being the polite and out of the way child his parents expect him to be when they come home. What he doesn't always know, is how he's supposed to talk with the Waynes. They don’t expect anything from him. To them, he’s just Tim and that’s something he can’t quite wrap his head around.
Conversations with them don’t exist with some end goal in mind like so many he’s used to. It’s not like Tim’s never talked to someone just to talk, but he’s never had it happen with such frequency. He can be on his way to a parlor, and then out of nowhere Jason is talking to him about that new icecream store on Fairbanks Street. It doesn't allow him to necessarily plan ahead for different conversations with prepared replies and discussion topics. Instead, he responds on instinct and, for once in his life, finds himself speaking words that actually reflect his thoughts and opinions. It's simultaneously freeing and terrifying. Because as much as he loves speaking his mind, what if he's saying all the wrong things?
These thoughts lead to Tim to retreating back into his room more often than he'd like. He simply can't deal with all the doubts that conversation can bring and so he sits in the guest room, trying to emulate the solitude he's become accustomed to in the past. He's not sure what the others think of his behavior, if they even notice at all, but at least he has a few hours to himself to regain his composure.
Right now is not one of those times, and Tim snaps himself back to the present. He’s not going to let himself get inside his head. He’s going to just enjoy what’s in front of him.
“Just read me the blue question already, Jace. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re stalling because you know that I’m about to win.”
“Hold your horses, I’m trying to find a good one!” Jason skims through the cards in front of him, eyes focused as he searches for one that suits his needs.
“You mean an impossible one.”
“So you admit that these questions are garbage.” He grins, but doesn’t look up. “Oh, you’ll never get this one! In which city is the largest ball of twine built by one man?” Tim grins. This is another question that he remembers.
“Darwin, Minnesota.”
“Oh come on!” Jason throws his arms up in defeat. “There is absolutely no fucking way for you to know that. How the fuck?!”
“Language, Master Jason.” Alfred admonishes, not breaking his stride as he passes the open doorway. Tim laughs while Jason rolls his eyes, but doesn’t continue his complaining.
“Winner cleans up!” Jason declares suddenly, standing up as quickly as possible which, for him being Robin and all, is pretty dang fast. Before Tim can protest, Jason’s already up and out the door.
Tim can only sigh and begin packing the board and pieces away. Despite the work he’s been left to do, he can’t help the small smile that stays pasted on his face the entire time.
“And in lighter news, Gotham Academy has publicized its plans to add a new wing onto its current building. This announcement follows the school president, Stephen Layton’s, decision to focus funding on new STEM programs…” Despite the smile plastered on her face, it’s obvious the news anchor could not care less about the words she’s saying. Tim really can’t blame her.
The story before had been about Batman and Robin capturing Two-Face the night prior. It must be pretty hard to switch from describing the exhilarating battle of good and evil to discussing run of the mill building plans. It’s even harder to keep up the same level of energy for both stories. Kudos to Becky Narita for at least attempting to accomplish the impossible.
Tim stifles a yawn before jotting a couple bullet points down in his notepad. There’s still about another hour left before the news broadcast is scheduled to conclude and Tim intends to stay awake for all of it. He hasn’t been able to sneak in his standard evening TV time since coming to the manor, mostly due to the fact it was pretty hard to be stealthy when every step he took was accompanied by the thump of his crutches.
Now that he finally had his ankle cast removed this morning though, he’s climbed the stairs up to the third floor and found a cozy sitting room with a television. He’s missed being able to watch the evening news. Reading the newspaper in the morning wasn’t enough--he was more used to simply skimming that for relevant articles relating to Batman or the Waynes--and rewatching highlight clips of the broadcast off the Internet over breakfast wasn’t quite the same.
Just as Tim is diligently recording information about Gotham Academy’s newest edition--it would have how many labs?--there’s a shuffling in the hall outside the door. Immediately, Tim stills, waiting to hear the person’s next move. Whoever it is must notice the light from under the closed door and, after a moment of deliberation, raps against the heavy wood.
It’s definitely too light of knocking to be Alfred. He also probably wouldn’t have hesitated. Jason on the other hand doesn’t really knock unless he wants to come into Tim’s room. Instead, he pokes his head in, scoping out the room before entering. This only leaves one person in the manor it could possible be.
“...Tim? Is that you in there?” Bruce’s voice is a quiet call. Quiet enough that it wouldn’t wake Tim if he were asleep, but still loud enough to be heard clearly through the thick oak.
“Yes, it’s me.” Tim replies after a few seconds of debating how and if to answer. He figures that Bruce is coming in no matter what, so it’s probably best to simply let him. Besides, if Tim had tried to feign sleep he’s sure the world’s greatest detective would notice in a heartbeat.
Just as Tim predicted, not a second later Bruce opens the door.
He has a few folders tucked under his arm and dons a pair of dark lounge pants, a navy robe, and a pair of bunny slippers that would be comical if the man didn’t look so completely confident in the get up. If he’s shocked by the sight of Tim curled in a recliner and clutching a pencil like his life depends on it, he sure doesn’t show it. Instead, he scans the room, taking in the whole picture, before turning back to him. Bruce must notice him staring at his choice of footwear though as he looks down himself.
“They were a gift from Jason last Father’s Day.” Bruce answers the unasked question.
“That definitely seems like something he’d do.”
“He was convinced I wouldn’t wear them. He was certainly surprised the first time he saw me in them. ” For a few seconds the news anchor’s reporting is the only sound that fills the silence. Then, almost awkwardly, Bruce starts again. “Would you mind if I join you?”
Tim doesn’t quite understand why he’s asking for his permission. This is his house after all. Instead of saying as much though, he shakes his head. Bruce closes the door behind him and situates himself in the armchair on the opposite side of the room. He wastes no time in sorting through the papers with him and arranging them on his lap.
“It’s rather late. Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Bruce’s question is not one of reproach like it would be if Alfred were the one asking it. It’s almost as if he’s checking that, yes, it is indeed abnormal for children to be up this late on a school night.
“Shouldn’t you be out patrolling Gotham?” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Tim regrets them. They’re rude and snarky and definitely no way to speak Bruce Wayne of all people. Batman or not, he was still the most influential person in Gotham. Tim might be able to get away with teasing and talking to Jason like this, but he’s never crossed this sort of line with Bruce.
Just as he’s ready to form an apology though, blame the comment on him being tired and cranky, Bruce laughs. It’s a low chuckle that doesn’t last long, but it’s a laugh nonetheless. It’s different from what he does when he plays “Brucie” so Tim has to believe it’s genuine.
“I have a large backlog of Wayne Enterprises documents to make my way through. Since Alfred has insisted I rest up tonight, I figured now was a good time to get these out of the way.”
“I don’t think Alfred would constitute filling out paper work as resting.”
“Just like how watching the news is not an excuse for putting off sleep?” Bruce quirks a small smile and casts a conspiratory glance toward Tim. “I won’t tell him about this if you don’t.”
It’s a bit childish but Tim can’t help but smile a little as he agrees to the pact. The idea of keeping a secret from the seemingly omniscient butler is admittedly a bit exciting. Besides, he really doesn’t want Alfred to try and keep him from watching the news like this. He’s missed this part of his daily routine and he doesn’t want it taken from him, even if it’s done with good intentions.
Bruce doesn’t say much after that. He sifts through the papers on his lap, making notes as he goes and offering comments on the news stories playing when relevant. For the most part, he sneaks glances out of the corner of his eye at Tim when he thinks the boy won’t notice. The only time he directly addresses Tim is after he scribles something in his notebook particularly quickly.
“You’re taking quite a few notes. Is this for a civics class?”
“Ah, no. I just… enjoy staying up to date on current events.” Bruce doesn’t pursue the topic any further, instead turning back towards his work. He probably already has an idea about why he’s so invested in being in the know. After all, Tim wasn’t able to learn about Batman and Robin so thoroughly just by following them in the streets.
As time passes though, Tim feels his eyelids growing more and more heavy. His head bobs as he tries to stay awake. His struggle isn’t helped by the fact that the anchor who is talking now is rather monotone; Tim swears that he would almost be able to make news about superheroes boring. He drones on about some new tax rate which is probably important, but definitely not interesting.
Tim is ready to call it a night and head down to bed, but then Bruce shifts in his chair. The teen freezes in his movement for the remote, already thinking through his next move.
Would it be rude of me to leave? I don’t want Bruce to think that I being in a room with him is making me uncomfortable or something. Besides, the only reason he’s in here is because I am. If I leave, he’d probably be upset that he came in here for nothing. On the other hand, if I fall asleep on him, he’ll probably think I found him boring or something.
Tim runs through his options a few more times before finally settling on leaving after the program ends. He only has to make it through fifteen more minutes, he reasons. However, those fifteen minutes are much more of a battle than he could have expected. Eventually, Tim can’t help himself. The dullness of the news report, combined with his subpar sleep from the past few nights, end with him fast asleep.
The next thing he knows, Tim’s waking up in the guest room that has become more or less his. He tries not to dwell on how exactly he moved from a chair on the third floor to this bed on the ground floor because the explanation is too embarrassing, too impossible, to consider. Bruce Wayne did not carry him to his room while he was passed out. There was no way.
Some small part inside of him, though, wishes that it was a possibility and he’s not quite sure how to feel about that quite yet.
Inevitably, he grows restless. Granted, he expected it to take longer to get to get to this point, but Tim has still been anticipating it.
Bruce and Jason are off fighting crime with Alfred in the cave--he’s finally confirmed his suspicion of the man holding down the fort and helping with comms--virtually every night of the week. It’s a very rare occasion for any of them to stray from this routine unless prompted. Tim marvels at the dedication of his heroes; he doesn’t think he’s ever seen either of the two vigilates look even slightly reluctant when heading down to get changed.
An unfortunate side effect of their nightly activities is that he’s left alone in these late hours.
Despite the change in location, it’s eerily similar to how things were back at home. Sure, he’s not completely by himself in the building. Alfred is on the property and he knows the butler will come to his aid if he suspects something is amiss, but it’s not the same. Just like Tim wouldn’t call Mrs. Mac up on her cellphone just because he was feeling lonely, he won’t pull Alfred away from his duties. Tim’s managed before, he’ll be fine now.
Without his crutches keeping him relatively confined to certain areas of the house, he takes it upon himself to explore the entirety of the manor. That only occupies him for a few nights, however, before he’s completed his thorough investigation and he’s back to square one. It takes a few more nights of thinking and watching the news after that for a solution to finally dawn on him.
Batman and Robin have always helped to fill the empty loneliness in his heart and that hasn’t changed. Despite the fact he’s currently living with the Waynes, he still craves the light that the dynamic duo shed on even the darkest alleys in Gotham. He hasn’t even seen the two in costume in person since that fateful night they rescued him. This is a problem he plans to remedy now.
Tim’s not exactly sure the type of security measures Bruce has in place on the manor grounds, but he figures it doesn’t hurt to experiment a little. If he ends up getting caught, he can always make the excuse of walking home to retrieve a few personal items. Alfred will scold him for going out on his own so late, but it beats telling the truth.
However, as Tim exits out the front door and slips through the wrought iron fence, no alarms go off. Alfred doesn’t call his phone asking him to return to the manor and no apparent signal has been sent to Gotham’s vigilantes to be on the lookout for him. Frankly, the ordeal is much easier than Tim could have expected. He figures all of Bruce’s security protocols are to keep intruders out rather than children in. That’s fine with Tim. It will let him move around much easier.
He grips his new camera to his chest and sets out for downtown Gotham. He has more than a few ideas for photos he can add to his collection.
Well, at least I know they didn’t change their patrol routes since the last time I saw them.
Tim’s gone out every night this week, but this is the only time he’s actually been able to catch more than a glimpse of the vigilantes in passing. In the alley below, Batman is currently punching the last of Black Mask’s lackies while Robin ties up those who have already been knocked out. Tim raises the camera to capture the action.
The angle isn’t the best for capturing the scene in its entirety. In all honesty, he had been expecting the vigilantes to settle on a nearby roof which would have allowed for much better pictures. If he had known that the vigilantes would be on the ground, he might have camped himself a bit closer to the action, like on the apartment building’s fire escape instead of its roof. It’s too late to move without making an obscene amount of noise though, so he’ll take what he can get. He’s not about to be picky about shot composition after the Batman and Robin drought he’s been through.
As soon as he’s finished snapping a few photos, he retreats from the edge of the building he’s chosen as his perch. He sits and slouches against the raised edge of the roof, legs laying flat in front of him. If anyone from below looks up, they won’t be able to see him behind this cover. At least, that’s the idea. It’s worked well enough in the past.
He scrolls through the pictures he’s just taken. Unlike his previous camera, the one Jason gifted him is digital. He’s still not used to being able to immediately scan his work, but he’ll admit it’s useful. Nonetheless, he kind of finds himself missing the feel of his old camera. As he examines the pictures, he’s not surprised to find that his first instincts were right: the photos aren’t very clear.
Oh, but this one’s pretty good! The shadow that Batman is casting looks pretty cool since it ends almost exactly where Robin’s standing! If I crop this section here out then I might be able to-
The door to the roof busts open, interrupting Tim’s thoughts. His head immediately snaps up as he scrambles to stand. Unfortunately enough for him, it seems the man has already noticed him and raised his gun defensively.
As Jason would say: shit.
“What the fuck?! What the hell is a kid doing up here?!” The man in front of him exclaims. He probably ran up here to escape the fighting in the alley and to try and get a few surprise shots at the Dark Knight. He certainly wasn’t expecting company.
“I, er, I-” Tim’s managed to regain his footing, but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to run very fast if it comes to that. What little ability he had for the activity is currently impaired by the fact his ankle is still very much recovering. The same goes for his climbing skills. He can’t just jump down to the fire escape and scurry away, at least not quickly.
The sad thing is though, he’s not even that worried about escaping the gangster in front of him. The longer Tim looks at him, the more apparent it becomes that he’s a low level thug. Usually that type doesn’t quite have to callousness it takes to murder a child in cold blood.
They’re not like Bianchi. At least not yet.
That’s not to say he wants to test his theory; he just thinks there’s a high likelihood of him coming out of this unscathed. The probability only goes up with the fact that Batman and Robin are literally right in the alley below them.
And that’s where the problem lies.
Because they don’t know he’s out here. Furthermore, he doubts they’d be very thrilled to see him facing down a guy with a gun. He needs to get out of here and he needs to get out fast.
“Get the fuck outta here, if you know what’s good for you!” Tim’s eyes dart to the door behind the man and begins calculating the risk reward ratio of making a break for it. There’s a slight chance that the man will make a grab at him as he runs past, but considering it’s his only means of escape it’ll have to do. Besides, maybe if he’s expecting to be grabbed he’ll be able to dodge.
Just as he makes up his mind to start towards the door, the sound of two grapple guns shooting off cut through the air. Tim instantly abandons his plan and drops to the ground. He’d rather not get in the way of the fight that will inevitably be taking place in a few seconds. Unfortunately, he’s too far from the airconditioning unit to hide himself behind that.
Batman and Robin gracefully fly up and onto the roof, where Batman wastes no time dodging the man’s first, poorly aimed shot. He runs up to the thug and grabs his wrist. He must hit a pressure point, as the man immediately drops his gun with a howl of pain. That, or Batman just has an insanely strong grip. Neither would really surprise Tim.
As soon as the thug is disarmed, Batman wrenches his arm behind his back. He then hits somewhere around the man’s neck and this one must be a nerve strike as the man drops to the ground almost immediately. Through all this, Robin watches Batman, hand at the ready on his utility belt just in case. Once he sees his mentor restraining the man however, he eases up.
“Man, good thing we were here, right kid? Then again, I’m sure you-” Robin turns back to look at the child they’ve just rescued, only to stop in his tracks when he sees Tim. His jovial expression changes to one of confusion very quickly. “Tim? What the hell are you doing here?”
Tim gulps and tries his hardest to not show the panic running through his system. He’s pretty sure the result is a wavering smile which cannot read as anything other than ‘guilty.’ The words aren’t coming to him. He stands up and brushes himself off, buying a few seconds for himself.
“I- well I… I wanted some fresh air?” He winces as the words come out like a question. Even without that, he doubts his excuse would convince a kindergartner, let alone Robin.
“Jesus Christ, Tim! Did you sneak out to take pictures?!” Tim reflexively grabs the camera around his neck and shrinks back. Jason pauses at the movement and takes a steadying breath. After a few more seconds, Batman has joined his side and his voice is much calmer. “How did you get out here?”
“There’s a bus stop about ten minutes from the manor.” Tim looks away and shrugs, wishing he could burrow himself away in his coat to avoid this confrontation altogether. “I would ride my bike but, well, I’m pretty sure someone stole that from the alley I left it in. It wasn’t there when I went and check, at least.”
“And how were you planning on getting back? The buses don’t make run all the way to Bristol after 11 PM.” Of course Jason would know that little detail.
“I ride the bus to the closest stop it’s still running to and then walk the rest of the way back, just like I’ve done every other night this week.” And that definitely was not the right thing to say. Jason tenses again, fists clenched at his sides. Bruce, however, places a hand on his shoulder before he can say anything.
“Robin, why don’t you escort this young man home.”
Neither of the teens argue at the order masked as a suggestion. Jason simply sighs and gestures for Tim to get on his back. Tim hesitates.
“C’mon, the rooftops are the quickest way home since B doesn’t really let me drive the Batmobile. If you don’t hop on then I’m gonna have to fireman carry you and that won’t be much fun for either of us.” Jason crouches down and Tim tentatively loops his arms around the other teen’s neck and wraps his legs around his torso. Jason holds one of Tim’s legs in one hand and readies his grapple gun in the other. “Hold on tight, okay?”
Before Tim can respond, the grapple shoots off and soon the two of them are flying through the air. The feeling is indescribable. Every time he’s sure they’re going to fall, they rise through the air and shoot off towards the next building. He tightens his grip around Robin as much as he physically can without accidentally choking him out.
Jason don’t say a word the entire way back to the cave. Tim’s not sure if he’s being given the silent treatment or if the vigilante just wants to focus on navigating safely. He doesn’t want to find out right now though, so he follows his lead and stays silent. Instead, he basks in the beauty of the city around him and the sensation of soaring. He wishes there was a way for him to take a picture of this right now, to capture it and never forget.
Before he knows it though, they arrive in Bristol. They aren’t quite to the manor, but there aren’t any more buildings to swing from. Tim dismounts from Jason’s back and allows him to take the lead. They’ll probably go through the cave entrance since Jason is still in uniform. Considering Tim’s never entered the cave from the outside--at least while he was still conscious--he’ll let Jason stay a few steps ahead.
I should probably say something…
“Jace,” He wets his lips to buy himself a couple seconds. “I’m sorry… you weren’t supposed to find out.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Jason turns on his heel, suddenly stopping. The domino mask makes it hard to read his expression completely, but Tim can definitely hear the exasperation in his voice. Tim stops walking too, feeling his brow furrow in confusion.
“I’m sorry I snuck out, and I understand you’re mad but-”
“Dammit Tim,” Uh oh, Jason isn’t using his nickname. He must be in bigger trouble than previously thought. “Don’t you get it? I’m not angry, I’m worried!”
That… that doesn’t make sense. Jason deserves to be angry, furious in fact. He knows that they don’t want him going out at night after what happened with Bianchi. After all, that incident almost resulted in their secret identities being compromised thanks to Tim’s own incompetence. Worry though… maybe Jason means he’s worried about a similar event happening? That would make the most sense.
“You don’t have to worry. I have it all under control.”
“Really, because it didn’t look like you had it ‘under control’ back on that rooftop.” Jason crosses his arms in front of his chest and glares at him. Tim’s own blood starts to boil. He’s already proved his loyalty! Did what he went through--what he bled and broke bones for-- mean nothing to them?
“I wouldn’t tell anybody about you guys! I thought you knew that!”
“Wha- this isn’t about that!” Jason tosses his arms up in frustration.
“Then what’s it about, huh?” Tim can’t help but take a few confrontational steps forward, his fists balled up at his sides.
“It’s about you sneaking out at night without any of us fucking knowing! You’re putting yourself in dangerous situations and you don’t even see anything wrong with it! Do you know how terrified I was when I realized the kid that that criminal was threatening with a gun was my little brother?! Just, goddammit Tim.” With that, it seems all the anger and energy leaves Jason all at once. He sort of slumps, though he remains standing.
Meanwhile, Tim attempts to process the fact that Jason just referred to him as his little brother. He’s a guest at the manor. He’s not a part of the family; he has parents and his own house down the road. So why on earth is Jason saying he’s his brother? What has he done to earn or deserve that title?
“I just can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt and it being my fault.” Jason starts again, irritation replaced with vulnerability.
“I go out to Gotham because I want to. You have nothing to do with it.” His own anger dissipated along with Jason’s.
“The only reason you’re out there is because me and B. If it weren’t for us, you’d be sleeping safe and sound in your house.” Jason sits down on the ground and runs a hand through his hair. Tim contemplates for a few seconds before he closes the gap between the two of them and sits next to Jason. Both boys gaze out ahead of them, arms wrapped around their knees. The only thing Tim can see from here are trees and a few buildings off in the distance. It’s silent for a good while before Tim eventually breaks it.
“Did I ever tell you why I started following Batman and Robin?” Jason turns his head to him, but Tim continues to stare ahead. If he makes eye contact, he’s scared he won’t be able to say what he wants.
“Yeah, you told us that you watched the Flying Graysons’ fall and were curious about the Batman who helped Dick Grayson ever since. You wanted to know more about the hero and how he operated.”
“I mean that’s part of it, but there’s more. I guess…” He takes a deep breath to relieve his nerves. “I guess Batman and Robin gave me something to look forward to, something to make my lonely nights just a little more bearable. Sure, I didn’t ever talk to you guys but…but it was something. More than I was getting at home, anyway.”
Jason doesn’t say anything. Instead, he searches Tim’s face absorbing every word he’s saying. Tim continues on, turning his attention to his fingers which are currently fidgeting with the sleeves of his coat.
“So yeah, if it weren’t for you guys, I’d be home in my bed, but I’d also probably be miserable. I know you guys don’t like it, but Batman and Robin are one of the few things I have. Being with you guys makes me feel like a part of something.” Out of the corner of his eye, Jason tilts his head quizzically. Afraid of him getting the wrong idea, Tim turns to him and quickly amends, “I’m not saying that I don’t like spending time with you guys outside of costume! Batman and Robin are just… different.”
“I think I get it.” Jason nods to himself. “You’ve been following us for years. I guess it was kinda dumb of us to think you would be willing to just quit cold turkey on us, huh?”
“Well, I wouldn’t really say dumb…”
“Either way though, I don’t think any of us want you sneaking around downtown Gotham at night.” Tim’s heart sinks. How could Jason say that? He thought he was starting to understand. He just bared his heart to him. Didn’t that count for something?
“But-”
“But, I do agree that we should let you be more in the loop.”
“I… don’t think I follow.”
“Agent A stays down in the cave all night, but he’s probably the most informed out of all of us. Well, except Oracle of course.”
“Oracle?”
“Oh? A member of Batman’s team that little Timbo doesn’t know about.” Jason’s smiles wistfully as he slings his arm around Tim’s shoulders. “Does the name ‘Batgirl’ ring any bells?”
“Oh, so that’s where Barbara Gordon went? She became Oracle?”
“God, and to think there was someone’s identity you didn’t know.”
“Sorry?”
“Well, anyway you could probably help run comms or surveillance with Alfie. I’m sure he’d like the help and you’ll be right there in the action with us, just not, well, with us. All of the great ass kicking action with none of the physical danger.”
“That,” Tim swallows, trying to hide the excitement from creeping into his voice. “ That might work. Are you sure Batman would be okay with it? I mean… I’m not really trained for this kind of thing.”
“And? I’ll let you in on a secret. I had no idea what the hell I was doing when I first started training as Robin. Every day I thought B would suddenly realize I was underqualified and send me packing. But guess what? I’m still here and I learned, even if those lessons were tough.” For a few seconds, Jason seems out of it. Like he’s thinking of some incident that has come and gone. Tim wants to ask, but somehow he doubts now is a good time. The moment passes and Jason shakes himself out of his thoughts. “I’m sure B would let you work home base, and if not I’ll convince him.”
“Yeah? And how will you do that?”
“Can’t tell you, it’s a Robin trade secret.” Tim snorts and rolls his eyes. Jason just laughs and moves his arm from around his shoulder. He stands, dusts himself off, and offers his hand to Tim. “C’mon, we should probably get a move on. You might have a coat, but this costume is not made for fall nights.”
“And whose fault is that?” Tim asks as he grasps the vigilante’s hand and allows himself to be pulled up.
“Dickhead’s.” Jason keeps a straight face and Tim laughs. “I thought you of all people would know that.” The two walk the rest of the way to the cave, which Jason assures is close. There’s a few things that Tim wants to ask Jason to expand on, namely his little brother comment. Jason never said anything after the fact which leaves a lot of questions on Tim’s end. The moment has passed though, so he opts to say nothing. Besides, as long as he doesn’t ask, he can believe that it wasn’t a slip of the tongue. That Jason really, truly meant it.
The longer they walk, the more tired Tim feels himself become. On top of that, his bad ankle is starting to ache from doing too much, too quick. He’s ready to be back at the cave. He’s ready for Alfred to chide him for his foolishness, but leave most of the lecture for the morning when he’ll actually be able to pay attention. He’s ready for Bruce to silently look him over him for injuries while pretending that’s not what he’s doing. He’s ready for Jason to walk with him to his room until they part ways right outside both their doors.
He’s ready to be home; he just doesn’t know that’s what it is quite yet.