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Tim was a smart boy. He didn’t need to be told, he knew it. He’d known it since he was seven years old and the teacher tried to accuse him of cheating because he’d gotten full marks on a test above his grade level. He’d known it since he was nine and he saw Robin do a quadruple flip and everything just clicked. Tim knew he was smart, just like he knew he was probably being neglected by his parents. He didn’t like to advertise it though—his brain or his parent’s treatment of him.
Maybe that’s why the Beldam thought that she had him fooled.
He didn’t mind at first. In fact, he outright played into the assumption. Some of it wasn’t fake—the longing, the awe, the loneliness, the hope. A lot of it was though. A lot of it was just survival. A lot of it was making sure that he could last until he could escape. The first time he woke up, he swore he wouldn’t go back. He swore that he wouldn’t fall victim to the pretty little lies. He paced the halls of his mausoleum of a house, every echoed step a reminder of the fact that he was alone. He listened to the dial tone as he called his parents and it just kept ringing. He wrapped himself in blankets to escape the chill.
He went back again that night.
This world—his world—had everything. His parents doted on him, listening to him ramble about his interests and cuddling him as they watched cartoons together. Other Mother was so welcoming, so genuine. Other Father never turned him down or made him feel overlooked. Robin was his best friend in his world. They sat and talked for hours, laughing and snarking like they’d known each other for years. Robin stayed for sleepovers sometimes and Other Mother would laugh fondly at them. When Robin couldn’t stay over, Batman would come collect him with a soft smile and a hand on his shoulder. Sometimes Batman even patted Tim’s head.
Somewhere along the line, it stopped being for survival.
Jason Todd approached him the third night and he was everything Tim had ever wanted. He was smart and funny. Offhand remarks and earnest compliments left Tim flustered beyond belief. He would speak in that Crime Alley drawl of his—skipped vowels and pulled consonants—and tell Tim all about his life. Other times he just sat and listened, staring at Tim like there was no one else he’d rather be talking to. Jason gave Tim a warm feeling in his chest and it felt like finally finally Tim was worthy. Finally, he was enough for someone.
Tim started waking up disappointed to be in the real world again.
Other Mother prepared a feast and invited all Tim’s friends. Other Father sat beside Other Mother’s place at the head of the table. Batman skulked in the shadows. Robin sat on Tim’s left. Jason sat on Tim’s right.
Tim tried to ignore how utterly wrong that was.
Tim ate, engaging in lively conversation with everyone at the table. Jason was the most vibrant participant, gesturing wildly and always somehow touching Tim. A hand on the shoulder, a ruffle of Tim’s hair, an elbow to the ribs, a brush of their fingers. Tim had never been so happy, so cherished. He bit back tears, smiling so wildly it felt like it was going to split his face in half. As Other Mother teasingly argued with Batman, Tim peeked a glance at Robin. His brows furrowed.
“Robin?” Tim whispered, resting a hand on his bicep. “Is something wrong?”
Robin stared at Tim, something indecipherable but undeniably sad in the tilt of his lips and the curve of his body. He reached up one hand to brush back Tim’s bangs and smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. It made Tim’s stomach twist.
“Sorry Baby Bird. I’m just a little out of it, I guess,” Robin said. He paused, hesitating for just a second before, “Tim, I need you to promise me something.”
Tim tilted his head.
“Get rid of it,” Robin insisted, tone suddenly urgent. “Get it far away from you. I know this isn’t right… and I think some part of you does too.”
Tim flinched, eyes drawn involuntarily to Jason. Jason laughed at something Other Father said, loud and unabashed. His smile felt like a knife to Tim’s heart.
“Tim,” Robin pleaded, “promise me.”
Tim met Robin’s eyes through the white lenses.
“Tim,” Other Mother interrupted sharply, “what do you think?”
Tim blinked, turning to her. The whole table was staring at him. He smiled sheepishly even as a shot of ice chased down his spine.
“Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”
Other Mother cut a searing glance at Robin that turned sweet when Tim caught her eye.
She smiled. “No harm done, darling. We were just discussing the photography contest starting next week.”
“Y’should totally enter, Timmy. Yer pictures are awesome,” Jason said, wrapping an arm around Tim’s shoulders. Tim melted against Jason’s side and shyly looked up to Other Mother.
“I- yeah. I, uh, I think that’d be cool.”
“Oh wonderful! I’m sure you’ll win, champ!” Other Father exclaimed. Tim felt his cheeks heating up and glanced at Other Father. It startled him to see the buttons eyes. For a moment, he’d forgotten. For a moment, he’d thought this was real. The eyes didn’t lie though and Other Father’s held no excitement, no joy, no care. There was no emotion in them at all; they were a doll’s eyes.
Tim’s chest felt hollow and so did the praise.
“Now Timothy, I have something very important I want to talk with you about,” Other Mother said after they’d all eaten. She sent a look at everyone else and they all got up to leave the room. Jason ruffled Tim’s hair on the way out, snorting at how Tim ducked away. Other Mother smiled. Soon, they were the only ones left at the table.
“I know you like it here, darling, and we love having you here,” she started, caressing Tim’s cheek gently. “That’s why I want to offer you the chance to stay here. Forever. We can play more board games together and hang out by the TV. Jason can come over every day and Robin can take you flying. We could be a happy family. There’s just one little thing we need you to do.”
Tim worried away at the inside of his cheek. If that didn’t sound like a villain ploy, he wasn’t sure what would. Cautiously, he nodded.
“What do you need?”
Her grin widened. “Nothing much.”
She reached under her chair and pulled out a gift box. Slowly, she slid it across the table to him. It looked normal enough, a blue box with red stripes and a ribbon bow on top. He hesitated, hand stuttering to a stop just before opening it. He glanced up at her.
“A present. From your father and I,” she said.
He opened the box.
Two black buttons stared back at him, abnormally large with a piece of thread tied to a needle rested between them.
“Black is traditional, but if you’d prefer pink or vermillion or chartreuse… though you might make me jealous. If you want to stay here, this is what we need from you.”
He couldn’t tear his eyes from the buttons. They were the perfect size to fit on his face.
“Don’t you want to stay?”
He did. He really did. Tim was a smart boy. He knew this wasn’t all there was to the deal. He knew that he’d likely die. He knew he might be stuck here, a lost ghost. But… but if he was going to die, at least he was going to die happy.
“Okay,” he agreed. She made a small noise, undeniably pleased.
“Good choice.”
Tim watched in silence as she got out the buttons and grabbed the needle. He watched her fingers tug on the thread to ensure it was secure, watched her approach him with the buttons. He gazed into her button eyes, knowing they would be his last sight. Her hand got closer and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears.
“Will it hurt?” He asked, feeling more like a child than ever before in his life. His palms were sweaty. He was scared, because he knew what was coming and he was just letting it happen. He was just accepting his death, agreeing to it. She stroked his cheek, still holding his face so gently. Janet had never done such a thing.
“You won’t feel a thing,” Other Mother promised. “We only want what’s best for you. Trust me, Tim. Everything’s going to be alright. You’ll be so happy here.”
His vision whited out and abruptly he was thrown into a memory of his birthday. His parents had missed it for the fifth year in a row and he’d been so upset. Tears streaming down his face as his mother chided him over the phone.
“We’re busy people. You can’t expect us to drop everything for a measly birthday. Really, you should know better, Timothy. It’s not our fault you got excited. After all, you chose to trust us,” Janet had told him before hanging up. He’d collapsed to the floor and screamed away all the pent-up rage and hurt he couldn’t convey to her.
Other Mother said, “Trust me,” and Tim heard Janet saying, “You chose to trust us,” and he couldn’t do it. He ran. He slammed the door shut, locked it up and stashed the key away. Robin’s words resonated in his mind.
(“Get rid of it. Get it far away from you. I know this isn’t right… and I think some part of you does too. Tim, promise me.”)
On his parents next trip to the Caribbean, he hid it in their luggage and made sure it got dropped in the sea. For a while, he refused to sleep, terrified to open his eyes and be greeted by the Other Mother. Months passed and then years. Tim pushed it to the recesses of his brain, never to be thought of again.
Seven years later, Billy Batson shows up in the Batcave and with him, Tim’s perfect web of lies crumbles.