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Bruce had a sister. She was five years older, she was unbearable like all teenage girls and she was dad's favorite.
Bruce knew this because dad let her do whatever she wanted, while Bruce couldn't even manage to bring a baby raccoon to his room!
It was fine, though. Bruce was Alfred's favorite, and Alfred was the best.
Janet was also smart, and she knew a lot of things. When she wasn't busy being unbearable, she made him read her books and she got lost in tales of lost civilizations and fabled treasures.
"One day I will become a famous archaeologist and I will always travel," Janet told him proudly, her book open on her lap.
"And the company?"
"That's yours."
Bruce didn't want the WE. He wanted to become an archaeologist like Janet and travel with her.
He wanted to see the world and shoot the Nazis (Indiana Jones always did!).
None of his dreams came true.
His parents died and Bruce no longer had a sister.
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"It's your fault," Janet snapped after their parents' funeral, red eyes and full of anger.
"You should have died in their place!"
For years, Bruce believed it.
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Janet went to boarding school, she didn't even come home for Christmas. When she turned eighteen, she finally cut ties with Bruce, taking her part of the legacy.
She hated him (Bruce hated himself too), and the rare times they met there was only poison in her words.
Their parents had died because of Bruce (he should have been quieter, he shouldn't have insisted on going to that new cinema in Crime Alley, he wouldn't have ...) and they both knew it.
She went to college and got engaged to a computer engineering student with nothing to his name except his brain.
She made her dream come true (Bruce always knew she would succeed) and founded her own company.
Drake Industries. No Wayne, never again Wayne.
When Janet got married, she didn't send the invitation to Bruce.
(Alfred telephoned Janet to try to make her think, but the only thing Janet said was I don't have a family anymore.)
Bruce had gotten the message.
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"Janet..."
"So you came back from your travel to Asia."
"You don't seem happy."
"Well, if you had stayed there another year, I could have taken over the company."
"I'm sorry to slow down your husband's rise in society."
"Oh, don't worry. You've accustomed me to disappointments."
There was a long pause, then Bruce said, "I heard you had a baby while I was gone."
Janet's voice went cold, "Timothy doesn't concern you."
"I'm his uncle. "
"Timothy has no other relatives," and she hung up.
Two days later, a gift for the newborn from Bruce Wayne arrived at Drake Manor. Janet had it thrown away.
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Over the next nine years, Bruce didn't think much about the Drake family.
(It was a lie, but only Alfred knew all the unsent birthday presents piled up in a room.)
He became Batman. He became a father. He was trying to make Gotham safer.
The pain was an open wound, it was always there, sometimes it hurt more, but it was starting to heal.
Some days he missed his sister, but Bruce kept going.
It was the only thing he could do.
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" Ehi, B! Look who I found! Our stalker!" Robin said cheerfully, holding the mysterious photographer who had started following them months ago by the shoulders.
Dick had insisted for weeks that someone followed them. Bruce had started thinking this when he had caught a glimpse of a flash during a patrol.
He was expecting an adult, perhaps a journalist or one of Falcone's men.
He wasn't expecting a child.
What was worse was that Batman knew that child. He had wanted to be a part of his life from the moment he found out about his existence. Janet hadn't let him.
"Timothy Drake?"
"Um ... hi, Batman, sir. I'm sorry for following you at night and for the photos ..."
The horror was too great. What was his nine-year-old nephew doing on a roof at three in the morning?
"Does your mother know you are here?"
"No, sir. She isn't at home."
"Where is she?"
Timothy frowned, "I think she's with dad in Egypt, but there may be some schedule changes. They don't usually tell me."
Batman feels his heart skip a beat.
" Who is with you?" he asked urgently.
Timothy looked at him confused, making his anxiety worse.
"Is there a babysitter at home? A nanny? A butler?"
"Oh, Mrs. Mac comes twice a week."
"What about the rest of the time?"
Timothy made an offended expression, "I'm nine years old already. I don't need someone to stay with me all the time. I'm almost an adult."
"Who says that?"
"Mom."
Janet, damn it. Your child is nine.
Bruce didn't know how Janet had developed certain ideas about parenting (Janet couldn't care for a goldfish, let alone a child), but she too must have known that this was child neglect.
Criminal child neglect.
Gotham was a dangerous city. Gotham had already taken their parents. If he hadn't been here, if someone else had discovered the kid, Gothan might have taken Timothy too.
How could she leave her son alone?
(Maybe she didn't care. Maybe seeing Timothy she saw another nine-year-old boy she despised. Janet had always looked to the past rather than the present.)
He knew where Timothy lived. He could have taken him back to Drake Manor and told him to stop following the vigilantes at night.
But bringing him back would mean leaving him in an empty house, alone, and putting him in worse danger than if he were on the streets of Gotham.
Batman couldn't do this to Timothy.
For the third time in his life, he made an impulse decision.
"Would you like to eat an ice cream?"
The child looked at him as if Christmas had come early.
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"Janet Drake's answering machine answers. Leave a message after..."
Bruce hung up angrily.
It was the tenth time he had tried to contact Janet, and for the tenth time, the answering machine answered.
Timothy was sleeping in Bruce's old room, worn out after a ride in the bat mobile and explaining how he had discovered their identities.
(He was a bright child, very mature for his age. He was still a child though, and in the heat of questioning, he had let slip something that only someone who knew Dick Grayson could have asked. )
Janet would be furious if she knew Timothy was with him.
Well, Bruce was furious at the terrible neglect Timothy was subjected to, so that made them equal.
Left alone for months in an empty house. No adult supervision except a housekeeper who comes twice a week for a few hours. Signs of malnutrition. Signs of emotional abuse...
"Ehi, B."
Dick's voice distracted Bruce from his thoughts
Bruce moved out of the window and looked at the teenager, "Yeah?"
"We won't take Timmy back to his parents, will we?" he asked anxiously.
"Dick ..."
"You are his uncle. - the teen continued, without giving him a chance to speak. - With relatives, it's easier. You're a little weird and socially withdrawn, but you care. You wouldn't leave me alone for months or starve me in an empty house. Hell, you wouldn't even have made me Robin if I hadn't taken the costume and ... "
He cut him off, "Dick, Timothy will stay."
"Oh."
"Like you said, there are obvious signs of abuse. I can't leave him in with Janet."
Janer will hate him, but it won't be new. He will give her a real reason to hate him now, and if Bruce can save Timothy, it is welcome.
He didn't care about Janet or what she thought. Timothy deserved a family, and Bruce didn't want him to pay for his mother's obsessions.
"So now I have a little brother or a little cousin?"
"As you like, chump."
Dick smiled, " Good. I'm a big brother now."
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"Janet..."
"Bruce, I have some urgent business calls to make, don't waste my time ..."
"We need to talk about Timothy, Janet. I want custody."
He heard a snort, "Did you realize that the little gypsy is not up to being Wayne's heir?"
Bruce remained in control even in the face of the racist slur, "No, I realized that you are subjecting your son to criminal negligence."
"It's called being a parent. I doubt you know anything about it. Alfred does all the work."
"Contrary to what you think, I know that children should not be left alone. Nor should they be left on an empty stomach."
"Timothy eats the right."
"Janet, I saw his bones stick out. It's not normal."
"Our definitions of normal are different."
"I had noticed this."
"Look, this is nonsense, and we both know it. If you want to go ahead and look silly, do it. I don't care. Contact my lawyers. They'll take care of it."
Having said that, she hung up.
Janet was a brilliant archaeologist, and a professor admired across the continent. What she was not, however, was a parent. And there was much proof of it.
Needless to say, she had no chance in court.