Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Tim couldn’t stop moving, fidgeting ever so slightly as he waited out in front of Drake Manor. Tonight, his parents would be coming home after a 6 months trip around the Middle East after getting word of new findings somewhere in Saudi Arabia.
Well, that also wasn’t the reason he was so fidgety. Last night had been a good night for photos and he had gotten some really good shots of both Batman and Robin fighting against Penguin’s goons. He had made sure to stay as far away as possible while still getting some shots in. He couldn’t wait to see what they looked like once he was in the privacy of his own room.
The roar of an approaching car jolted Tim out of his thoughts, and he made sure to straighten his back and stop moving, doing was last check to make sure he was perfect for his parents. His parents didn’t like it when he wasn’t perfect, wanting to look good in front of Gotham’s Elite.
“Timothy!” He plastered on a gala smile as he heard his mother’s voice calling him. He walked briskly down the pristine marble staircase of the manor, down towards the front door of Drake Manor to meet his parents. Jack was already on the phone, and Tim could hear the words of ‘findings’, ‘artifact’, and ‘famous’. Janet nodded towards Tim as his attention was drawn towards her.
“Timothy, dear, help us with our bags. Your father had found some rather interesting discoveries in some ancient tombs that will need a place in the manor. Likewise, your father has also scheduled a press conference about these findings so you will need to get your suit ready.” Janet said, eyes drifting from Tim to her Husband, who was smiling as he talked on the phone while walking up the stairs to his study. She rolled her eyes before picking up another suitcase, huffing.
“I wish your father didn’t spend as much time talking on the phone when there are clearly other things to worry about, like these priceless vases.” She nodded towards Tim before briskly walking up the step, more than likely to put her suitcase away.
Tim watched her walk away, the gala smile he had plastered on slowly slipping away, turning into a frown. Sighing slightly, he turned his attention towards the suitcases that most likely had priceless artifacts in them, which took up more of his parents time than him. Glaring slightly at the offending luggage, he grabbed the handle bars, and gently as he could, started to walk up the marble stairs towards the wing with artifacts.
“It’s never ‘Oh, hello, Timothy, how are you doing?’ or ‘I missed you so much Timothy’… Sometimes I wonder if they would even notice me if I wasn’t here.” Tim muttered, passing by statues and busts and vases and paintings. Looking around, Tim felt himself shudder. He always hated this part of the manor, it felt colder than the rest of it, and some of the stuff in this particular wing always managed to freak Tim out.
Sighing, Tim finally made it to the self-named, ‘Sorting Room’. Getting to work on placing the artifacts away (he wore gloves and a mask so everything was fine), he lost himself in thought. His parents were always traveling, hardly home, and even when they WERE home, it was like he was more of a dog than their son. From what he saw, they just needed an heir and did not want him out of love, which was just fine with Tim. Perfectly fine.
Finished with his work, Tim nodded to himself, taking off the gloves and mask and walked out of the room. However, his mother’s particular attitude today just irked him in some way, which never happened before. Usually, he could just accept it as being tired, but today, he could just not get rid of his irritation. He better fix it soon before his mother or his father found out.
Heading back towards his room, Tim shut the door and sighed, walking over to flip down on his plush bed. It wasn’t as luxurious as the other beds in the manor (Mother and Father couldn’t live with themselves if they weren’t, Tim thought with a huff), but it was still expensive enough in its own right. The covers were a dark navy and light grey, with some subtle nod to Star Wars, one of Tim’s favorite franchises.
Lifting his head up from his bed, he eyed the manor next door- Wayne Manor. The lights were on, concluding that the Bats were not out and about just yet. Or at least, Tim thought so. He didn’t know if the Bats turned their lights on or off when they went off into Gotham, he never really paid any mind to the house, especially when he knew that the family was galavanting around.
Sighing, Tim lifted himself up and out of bed, moving his body towards his dresser where he knew his suits lay. However before he could actually grab his suit, noise from downstairs seemed to make him pause. Slowly, he made his way out of his room and towards the foyer, where his mother and father were arguing…about something.
Tim didn’t know what but he wasn’t going to stick around and find out, but something that his father said made him pause.
“-and that incompetent son of yours put that damned scroll in the wrong place! Who the hell puts a priceless Arabic scroll with the common Greek scrolls?”
“MY incompetent son? He is as much your son as he is mine! That’s probably the reason!” His mother retired back but anything after was left on Tim. White noise rang in his ear and he saw himself moving quickly, and with one blink he went from the hall to his room. Sliding down to the floor next to his bed, he curled up into a ball, laying his head on his knees and suddenly he felt very cold. Very, very cold, why was he so cold?
Tim couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak and couldn’t move but there was one noise he could make, and so he did. He screamed, releasing all of that hate, anger, grief. He had done everything for his parents, been the perfect son for them and this is what happens. How can he keep pleasing them when they couldn’t even look his way.
The room felt colder, more colder than the sorting room of the manor, even as cold as winter. For a moment, it was silent, and Tim breathed. He could see his breath, but that was impossible, it was in the middle of summer so what-?
He took a glance up from his knees and froze.
Around him were thick icicles, pointing away from him as if it were to protect him. His room was covered in frost from his ceiling to his bed. In the back of his mind, he hoped that the Batman and Robin pictures were still ok. And in the air were snowflakes that hung frozen like stars in space. It would have been a beautiful sight if not only for the strangeness of it, but also the dark color of it. It was if it sense Tim’s emotions and sought to display that in its color.
Tim looked around in fascinated horror, before looking down at his shaking hands, where he could a tinge of a blue-ish white glow to them, and it was that moment he knew.
His parents busted into the room at that second, looking around the room in horror before looking back at their son. And Tim could only manage to ask one question.
“What happened to me?”