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Mrs. Mac agreed to look the other way about Jason, for a price. Not money—well, kind of money, but not from them directly. Mrs. Mac would still bring the groceries because they couldn’t drive, but Jason had to do the cleaning. His parents never had to know, and she got to collect the same paycheck for basically no work.
It wasn’t very nice of her, but Jason wasn’t too bothered. Most the time.
“I respect the hustle,” Jason would say.
Then he’d turn around and call her a bitch while he spent three hours polishing the intricately carved wooden bookshelves in Jack Drake’s office.
The bookshelves always worried Tim the most. They went straight to the top of the twelve foot ceilings, and Jason wasn’t very tall. Worse, Jason never wanted to move the ladder till he had to, so he was always leaning out way too far.
“Jay? Do you want some help?”
Microfiber cloth extended as far as his fingertips could reach, Jason frowned and looked back at Tim so fast the ladder wobbled. Tim was literally going to die of a heart attack if Jason didn’t stop.
“I’ve got it, Timbo. You just finish your homework.”
Jason almost never let Tim help. He’d even get mad if Tim insisted he wanted to help clean his own parents’ house. Tim didn’t get it for a long time till Jason was sick one day and Tim made him lie down. Jason was all panicky and finally half-admitted that he thought if he didn’t pull his weight, Tim wouldn’t want him around.
It wasn’t true. Tim would get bored of dishes or cleaning tile floors, but he’d never get bored of Jason. Having someone else in the house all the time? Someone to watch movies with and read comics with and eat dinner next to? Tim was in heaven.
Normally, Tim tried to respect that Jason needed to be needed. When it came to the bookshelves, though, Jason needed to be slapped upside the head with common sense.
“I can reach the—”
“We’re the same height,” Jason snapped.
Tim was two inches taller since his growth spurt, but Jason insisted that Tim’s jeans had shrunk and that Jason simply slouched.
“You’re going to fall,” Tim pushed.
“I am not. If you want to be helpful, go preheat the oven. We’re having chicken nuggets.”
Jason insisted they ate them so often because needed protein. Jason also insisted that he never told Mrs. Mac to get the dino shapes, but Tim had seen the grocery lists. He knew the truth.
Rolling his eyes, Tim stood up and ran downstairs to turn the oven on.
On his way back up to the office, he heard a remarkable clatter and the unmistakable thud of something heavy hitting the floor.
Jason.
Tim gasped and raced back to the office, throwing open the door to find a scene straight out of his worst anxieties.
Jason was on the ground, groaning with his eyes closed with the ladder on top of him.
“Jason!” Tim screamed.
He pulled the ladder off and shoved it to the side, making Jason scream. What did I do I hurt him more I broke my brother he’s gonna die it’s all my fault.
With the ladder gone, Tim could see that Jason’s leg was bent at an unnatural angle. Tim felt his stomach wad up with dread. They couldn’t fix this with bandages and advil. Jason needed to go to a doctor, but if two kids walked into the doctor alone, CPS might get called, and if CPS got called, Jason would get taken away.
Jason had spent a week in foster care with foster dad would get drunk and hit the kids. Jason told Tim he’d run away so no one worse could get him. Tim didn’t know what worse looked like, but Jason did.
Jason wouldn’t be able to run this time.
“Jay?” Tim whispered, his eyes welling with tears. “Jay?”
Jason groaned again, his eyes fluttering. A cut over his eyebrow was gushing blood down his face and into his eye. Tim just hoped that was the only source of the blood on the carpet.
They needed help. Mrs. Mac?
That was it! She would have to help them, or Tim would tell his parents that she didn’t do any real work! She could pretend to be their grandma or something long enough to get Jason treated and get him back home.
Tim took off his jacket and held it to the cut on Jason’s head, wincing when Jason winced. With his other hand, he took out his phone and called Mrs. Mac.
He called her six times with no response even though he knew she didn’t have work on Thursdays.
Jason was right, she was a bitch!
Who else could he call? 911? That would be the last resort, after bundling Jason into the car and Tim driving them down to the hospital himself.
Tim’s eyes widened. Of course! He knew exactly who to call!
Bruce looked at his cellphone. Unknown caller.
Bruce ignored the call. If it wasn’t a scam, they’d leave a voicemail.
Immediately after the phone stopped ringing, he got a second call from the same number. Bruce ignored it again, but after the third time, he picked up.
“Hello?”
A pause, a crackle of static, then a small, trembling voice whispered, “Mr. Wayne? I need help.”
Tim waited at Jason’s side for Mr. Wayne to get there. He’d promised to get there really quick, so Tim texted him the gate and door codes and waited.
Jason wasn’t waking up, but he wasn’t asleep either. His eyes were half-open, not tracking anything, and the only sounds he made was groaning.
By the time he heard the front door open, Tim was a nervous wreck. He tried to swipe the tears off his cheeks, but all he was doing was smearing the tears around his face.
“Tim? Tim?” Mr. Wayne was calling him now, and doors slamming open echoed in the almost empty house.
Tim opened his mouth to call back, but he choked on a sob and couldn’t force words out.
Mr. Wayne found them anyways a minute later. What if that minute it took meant Jason died? Tim shouldn’t even touch Jason in case he did something else to hurt him more, but when Mr. Wayne grabbed Tim by the shoulders and pulled him back, Tim still fought him.
Mr. Wayne wasn’t supposed to focus on Tim! Tim wasn’t hurt! Jason needed help, couldn’t he see that!
Mr. Pennyworth was only a few seconds behind Mr. Wayne, kneeling by Jason’s side with a first aid kit.
“It’s going to be okay,” Mr. Wayne promised, squeezing his shoulder. “Alfred used to be a medic.”
Mr. Pennyworth checked the back of Jason’s head with his fingers and was visibly relieved. All Tim could think was there’s no blood, he didn’t crack his skull open.
Mr. Pennyworth shone a light in Jason’s eyes, then he ran his fingers down Jason’s arms. He frowned and lifted Jason’s left arm and slowly, gently turned Jason’s hand.
Jason whimpered, and Mr. Pennyworth’s frown deepened.
Mr. Pennyworth looked over his shoulder, fixing Tim with a very serious look.
He’s going to say Jason’s dead. It was stupid because Tim could see Jason moving, but he couldn’t help the frightened thought.
“Have you already called an ambulance?” Mr. Pennyworth asked him.
Tim swallowed hard and shook his head.
“This young man has a serious head injury,” Mr. Pennyworth said, looking over Tim’s head to Mr. Wayne. “We’re not equipped to transport him.”
Mr. Pennyworth was already dialing, and Tim’s protests dried up in his throat. What could he say? Jason could be seriously hurt, forever kind of hurt, or dying, and…Jason had said he’d rather die than go back to foster care, but Tim couldn’t…
He couldn’t let that happen.
“Where are your parents?” Mr. Wayne asked.
Tim froze. “They—they’re out of town. But they’ll be home soon!”
They’d be home in two months, which was soon for them.
Mr. Wayne nodded. “Who’s staying with you and your brother while they’re gone?”
“Um, Mrs. Mac. The housekeeper. I mean the nanny. She’s our nanny.”
“Where is she right now?”
“She—she’s just at the store. She’ll be back soon!”
He really, really hopes she called him back. He knew there would be questions and paperwork at the hospital, and she’d filled out paperwork before at the urgent care.
“Have you called her?”
“Yes! She’s really worried! She cares about us a lot, and she’s on her way!” Tim was sweating hard.
He could see the suspicion in Mr. Wayne’s knit brow. Jason always teased him for being a terrible liar, but Tim didn’t know what he was doing wrong.
“Alfred will go with…” Mr. Wayne trailed off and raised an eyebrow expectantly.
Tim sniffled. “Jason.”
“Alfred will go with Jason in the ambulance,” Mr. Wayne said, “and I’ll wait with you here for Mrs. Mac. Does that sound fair?”
That sounded terrible, but it was as fair as he was going to get. Tim wasn’t in a position to be making demands.
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Wayne waited about forty minutes after the paramedics took Jason away before he got the text. Mr. Wayne read it and replied before setting his phone on the kitchen table—they’d come down to turn off the oven—and looking pointedly at Tim.
“Is she coming?” Mr. Wayne asked, but Mr. Wayne knew, and Tim knew he knew, and Mr. Wayne knew Tim knew he knew.
Tim shook his head, his gaze boring into the wood grain.
“Does anyone stay with you while your parents are gone?”
Tim shook his head again.
“Tim…” Mr. Wayne ran a hand down his face. “How old are you?”
“…eleven.”
“And your friend?”
Not your brother. He’d called Jason Tim’s brother earlier. Whoever he’d been texting must have ferreted out the truth. Hopefully that meant Jason was awake and talking, but that would mean Jason had called him his friend and not his brother even though Jason said ‘brother’ first had removed any legal right Tim had to be with Jason.
They’d take him away forever.
“Jay’s almost fourteen.” Tim had been planning a birthday party for Jason. It would just be them, but Tim had found dinosaur candles and everything.
Jason was going to be so mad about the dinosaur candles at first because he’d say Tim was making fun of him, but then he’d go on about how ‘these aren’t even real dinosaurs, they’re a hideous chimera of a megadontcarus and a jasonisanerdusaurus rex.’ Then Jason would have gotten that shy smile he got when he didn’t want to show how happy he really was.
All that was gone now.
Mr. Wayne leaned back in his chair, considering Tim.
Tim shifted uncomfortably. He’d seen the effects of the BatStare™ from afar, but he’d never dreamed it could be this intense. He found himself desperately going through every secret he’d ever kept, trying to figure out which one he could tell to get Mr. Wayne to stop looking at him like that.
“What’s Jason’s full name?”
“Jason Todd,” Tim rushed before his mind caught up with his anxiety. No, he shouldn’t have said that! He should have stalled, so…
Stalling wouldn’t have done any good, but at least it would have slowed down the bad.
Mr. Wayne silently texted someone the information, and Tim sank into his chair with a depressed groan.
Whoever he was texting responded pretty quick. Mr. Wayne’s eyebrows raised, and he nodded thoughtfully at his phone screen.
“How did you meet Jason?” Mr. Wayne asked.
The real answer was that Jason had held him at knifepoint in a dark alley at midnight, but Tim had only noticed the stranger pop out and hold out his hand. Tim had been surprised, yeah, but he wasn’t rude, so he’d shaken Jason’s hand. He’d cut himself pretty bad on the knife, which scared Jason more than it scared Tim because Jason hadn’t really meant to hurt Tim.
One panicky trip to a CVS changed his life forever. Jason had insisted on patching Tim up, which was fine till Tim realized that Jason meant he was going to just steal all the first aid. They’d gotten into another fight about whether Tim was going to pay (“I can’t get arrested for accessory to burglary!”) or if Jason was just going to steal it (“It’s not burglary! It’s shoplifting!”) and if stealing was bad (“What if we get caught by Batman?!”) or if stealing was okay (“It’s just a misdemeanor!”)
Tim finally won by snatching everything out of Jason’s hands and running to the front of the store before Jason could catch him.
The rest was history. The best year and a half of his life, the first time he felt like someone was happy he existed.
“We met at the park,” Tim lied. “He didn’t have any family, so I said he could stay here because I…”
Tim winced. That was probably a really bad thing to say. Mr. Wayne already seemed upset that no one was watching him, and it wasn’t like he was wrong. If Mrs. Mac had been here, Jason never would have been up on the ladder in the first place.
“You were alone too?” Mr. Wayne guessed.
“…no?”
Mr. Wayne didn’t look like he even sort of believed Tim.
Tim’s eyes prickled with tears. He should have fallen instead. Jason never should have gotten hurt taking care of Tim’s dad’s furniture, and Jason would have known what to do if Tim got hurt, and Jason wasn’t so stupid bad at lying.
Mr. Wayne stood up and slowly walked around the table, kneeling by Tim’s chair. Tim had the distant thought that this was how Batman approached young, frightened children.
“Tim,” Mr. Wayne said gently, trying as hard to catch Tim’s eye as Tim was trying to avoid eye contact. “Tim, you know that’s not okay, right? You’re too young to be looking out for yourself.”
“I had Jason?” Tim offered.
“Jason seems like a very smart kid—” The only thing Mr. Wayne knew about Jason was that he’d fallen off a ladder. “—but he’s too young to be looking out for himself too, let alone another child. Kid’s are supposed to have parents.”
“You didn’t!” Tim cried in frustration.
Mr. Wayne blinked in surprise, and Tim clapped his hand over his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say it, he hadn’t meant to say it that way, and he hadn’t meant to say it so loud.
Tim’s eyes flooded with tears. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
He’d just meant that Mr. Wayne grew up without parents around, and he’d turned out to be Tim’s second-favorite person in the world! He hadn’t meant—what he’d said.
Mr. Wayne gently squeezed Tim’s shoulder to cut off his panicked ramblings. Tim just wanted to curl up in a little ball and die slowly and painfully. That would be preferable to living with what he just said for the rest of his miserable life.
“I didn’t have my parents,” Mr. Wayne agreed. “But I had Alfred. I wasn’t alone. You don’t have to be alone either. Why don’t we go down to the hospital? We can talk about this more there. I have a friend I want you to meet.”
He said it like Tim had a choice, but Tim knew he didn’t. That was the problem with grownups, as soon as they came around, they started bossing you around.
Mr. Wayne stood up and backed towards the door, extending a hand. Tim took the hand, but the faint look of surprise on Mr. Wayne’s face told him he’d misinterpreted a come here gesture.
Cheeks burning with embarrassment, Tim held on. Play it cool, play it cool, said one part of his mind. You have got to stop doing this, said the other.
Tim didn’t let go, and neither did Mr. Wayne.
It was weird, riding in the car with Mr. Wayne to the hospital. Tim picked at the seam of his seat as he tried to think of anything but how close to dead Jason looked when he’d last seen him.
Unfortunately, the thought he kept landing on was is any car a batmobile if Bruce Wayne is driving? And that just stressed him out because a) he couldn’t just ask Mr. Wayne, and b) the thought was accompanied by a wave of crushing guilt because he shouldn’t be thinking about such stupid things when he should be worrying about Jason, then the cycle repeated.
Mr. Wayne didn’t talk much, which was good, because Tim was one nervous breakdown away from asking Mr. Wayne the Batmobile question.
When they got to the ER, Mr. Pennyworth and a woman in a crisp pantsuit were waiting for them in the waiting room. Mr. Wayne took Tim’s hand again an led him over to them, Tim shuffling reluctantly along.
He knew what she was before he read the Child Protection & Permanency written under her name. Renee Williams.
Tim stared at his shoes and didn’t say a word. Why hadn’t he put on more interesting shoes today? He wanted to go home and change his shoes, or maybe he could sneak through and find Jason. He just wanted to not be here.
Noticing his stress, Mr. Wayne put his arm around Tim’s shoulders. Tim jolted, but…he wasn’t misinterpreting this time. Tim leaned into Mr. Wayne’s side and closed his eyes. He knew he should be embarrassed being so clingy with someone who didn’t even know him, but he was too busy being miserable.
“Are you here to take Jason?” Tim whispered after a minute.
Ms. Williams crouched down in front of him, balancing impressively on narrow heels. “Can you tell me where Jason’s family is?”
I’m his family, Tim wanted to say.
“His mom died. I think his dad’s in jail,” he said robotically.
Ms. Williams smiled wanly. “How long has he been staying with you?”
Tim shrugged and looked anywhere but at her. His gaze fixed on a piece of chewed gum in the corner, forgotten and collecting dust. Tim felt a disturbing amount of kinship with the gum.
“Timothy?” Ms. Williams prodded.
Two birthdays of Tim’s birthdays, but only one of Jason’s. Only one Christmas, and Tim had been really excited for Christmas this year. They were going to get a tree and decorate it and make cocoa and all the normal people family things.
“A year and a half.”
“Thank you, Timothy. Do your parents know Jason’s been staying with you?”
Tim shook his head.
“Does anyone?”
“Mrs. Mac does.”
“And that’s your housekeeper?”
Tim nose wrinkled. “She just brings us groceries and stuff.”
He wasn’t going to throw her all the way under the bus in case there was some world where he could get CPP to let Jason come back home with him, but she didn’t deserve any of the credit for Jason’s hard work.
“I see. Does—”
“Is Jason going to be okay?” Tim cut her off.
All the grownups shared a look before Mr. Pennyworth cleared his throat and answered. “Your friend has a serious concussion, a fractured wrist, and a broken leg. He’s in surgery right now, but he should recover smoothly. You did a good job getting help.”
Tim had done a terrible job of getting help. He’d prioritized keeping them together over getting Jason medical attention, and even that had backfired.
But Jason was going to be okay.
Even if someone took Jason away, Tim could…he’d get Jason back. He didn’t know how, but he would. He’d found Jason once, so he could find him again, because Tim needed Jason, and…Jason needed him too.
They’d find a way.
The grownups let Tim sit by himself after a while so they could discuss his fate in hushed tones across the waiting room. Tim got three calls from his parents and four from Mrs. Mac, so he guessed that someone had called them.
Tim didn’t pick up. Let them wonder what was happening and where everyone was for once.
After a while, the grownups separated. The hospital clerk gave Ms. Williams paperwork, Ms. Williams gave different paperwork to Mr. Wayne, and Mr. Pennyworth came over to sit with Tim.
Tim determinedly did not look up. He didn’t want to talk. He just wanted to know what was happening with Jason.
Finally, the paperwork was over and Mr. Wayne and Ms. Williams approached.
“Timothy?” Ms. Williams said. “Jason is out of surgery.”
Tim perked up, heart racing. “Can I see him?”
She shook her head sadly. “He’s resting right now. You can see him in the morning.”
Tim scowled. Why couldn’t he just look in to make sure Jason was okay right now? It wasn’t like he was going to cause trouble.
“He’s going to be scared if he wakes up and doesn’t know where he is!” Tim cried. “I should be with him so I can explain!”
“We’ll bring you back first thing in the morning,” Mr. Wayne promised.
Tim opened his mouth to object, then his mind skipped like a record as he processed what Mr. Wayne had actually said. “What?”
“Bruce has offered to let you stay with him for tonight as an emergency placement,” Ms. Williams explained. “He’s a registered foster parent, and you seem to trust him. Would you be comfortable with that?”
You are legally not allowed to be happy while your brother is in the hospital, Tim reminded the part of his brain that was chanting Batsleepover, batsleepover, batsleepover!
Oh.
Oh hehehe, Tim had a brilliant idea. The best, worst, most terrible and wonderful idea in the whole world. This idea put all his other ideas to shame.
Tim smiled. “I am more than comfortable with that. We should go, right now.”
The grownups paused, each giving him a strange look at the sudden vibe shift, but they couldn’t know what his plans were.
Mr. Wayne led him to the car while Ms. Williams went to her office to file the paperwork and Mr. Pennyworth stayed at the hospital with Jason just to be on the safe side.
Tim was a little ball of restlessness the whole way to the car. Should he spring the question now? Or later? Right now he had a captive audience, but he also probably shouldn’t distract the person driving. Then again, Mr. Wayne could just walk away and lock himself in another room like Tim’s dad if he waited till they were at the manor.
Tim decided to wait till they were a few minutes out so Mr. Wayne couldn’t just turn around and leave him at the hospital.
“When my parents get back, can they adopt Jason?” Tim asked. He should probably check before he pulled the stunt he was about to.
Mr. Wayne grimaced, which would have been answer enough. “It’s highly unlikely, Tim.”
Tim took it in stride. He’d expected as much.
Jason would probably never live with Tim again, at least not till they were grownups and could go to college and get an apartment or whatever.
But, Jason could live next door.
“You’re a foster parent?” Tim asked sweetly.
Mr. Wayne paused, a split second of hesitation. Probably figured he knew where Tim was going, and he did, but he didn’t expect how Tim was going to get there.
“I kept up my license, yes,” Bruce agreed. “I fostered Dick till he was eighteen.”
“Oh, I know,” Tim said. “Maybe you could foster Jason till he’s eighteen.”
Mr. Wayne sighed. “Tim, that’s—”
“You need a new Robin, after all.”
Okay, so maybe Tim should have foreseen them almost getting into a car accident, but Mr. Wayne was able to swerve back into his own lane in time. The statement certainly made an impact.
“What did you say?” Mr. Wayne asked incredulously.
This was his chance.
“If you drive a car, does that make it a batmobile, or is it just the one Batmobile?”
“What?”
Okay, he wasn’t getting an answer. “Never mind. You should foster Jason! Everyone wins! You get a Robin, Jason gets a safe place to live, Mr. Pennyworth gets someone to help him clean, and I get…”
Mr. Wayne pulled the car to the side of the road and parked, fixing Tim with a Batstare™. “What do you get?”
Tim shrugged, a little awkwardly now. “I get…Jason will be right next door.”
Mr. Wayne’s Batstare™ softened into a Batlookofpity™. “Tim…Do you think you’re going back to your parents?”
Tim blinked in surprise. “Yes?”
“Tim, your parents are being charged with criminal child neglect. Do you know what that means?”
It means everyone knows they don’t love me now, said that one part of his mind. The sad part. The other part was chanting, batsleepover, batsleepover, batsleepover.
“It means I can be Robin too?” Tim tried hopefully.
Mr. Wayne looked physically pained. “We’ll talk about this.”
“Really?!”
Mr. Wayne ran a hand down his face. “I am making no promises.”
He didn’t have to. Mr. Wayne could do whatever he set out to do, especially in this city. And Tim knew what that meant.
Batsleepover, batsleepover.