Chapter Text
“You’re a freak and you know it.” Gabe’s slurred speech sounded from above me, his eyes unfocussed, malicious intent still clear. “Even that - even that Batman that rounds the street each night. Killing those common crisminaals, you’re worse than that, he thinks you shouldn’t live - why don’t you just…” losing his train of thought he stumbles to the couch and collapses. The bottle clattering out of his hand and soaking the carpet beneath him.
Only after I’m sure he’s fully out do I uncurl myself from the ground, pushing myself off with quivering muscles. My vision blacks and I squeeze my eyes shut from the pain that ricochets through my skull.
This sucks.
Before Gabe had gotten black-out drunk and violent-happy he had in very clear terms told me that if I don’t get out before he wakes up he’ll make sure I never wake up. Which was confusingly poetic for him, until Jerry yelled from the other room that he plagiarized his words. Figures, Smelly Gabe could never have an original thought.
The room stunk of BO, smoke and too much liquor. My stomach retched, my nose twitching at the smell of alcohol yet again sinking into the carpet.
It’s times like these when I hate my sense of smell. Gotham was a horrible place for an amplified sense of smell anywhere, but it paid off when you could smell intoxicated people stumbling through the streets blocks before they made it to you.
I pulled myself fully up from the ground, ignoring the slight sway I felt once fully on my feet. If I don’t recognize it it’s not happening. If I don’t recognize it-
The floorboards creaked, “GABE! Are you in for the next round or-” Jerry rounded the corner finding him passed out on the couch.
“Figures, that shit-head isn’t worth the trouble.” His eyes blearily find mine and he startles, “When did you get here you little rat??” Inwardly I sigh, one, wrong animal and two I’ve been here the entire time.
He takes a step towards me and I step back too fast, too fast , seemingly losing interest his eyes drift over the walls almost unseeing.
Reason number one million why I’ll never drink. I stand still until he notices me yet again, “you boy, you won’t tell him that I took his money or I’ll mess you up good okay?” I nod, unwilling to argue against him, it’s not like he’s going to remember any of this tomorrow.
He nods drunkenly and sways for a moment, eyes closed - “I’ve gotta get to-” he walks off without finishing his sentence. I wince at the loud slam of the kitchen door but once I’m sure nobody's getting through the door again I basically run to ‘my room’.
As it is, ‘my room’ isn’t well… mine, at least not since - my throat tightens and I stare at the wall until I feel the grief trickle through my throat and burn my eyes. Let the sadness go into the ground, it’ll soak it up. Plants love your emotions, especially happy ones but letting go of the sad helps you understand the happy okay love.
Mama’s voice drifts through my head and I take a breath, I’ve gotta get out of here.
Swallowing hard I grab my ripped backpack that I’ve had for years, dumping out the schoolwork that was stuffed in there, likely to get ignored, seeing as I don’t have much time to do my homework nor the motivation.
I just have to pass all my classes to keep the scholarship, and I just have to keep it for the rest of this year and the next. As long as I make it through sophomore, and junior year I can probably graduate early. Aw brain boy thinks he’s smart enough to graduate I heave a sigh and kneel down, my knees burning under the weight of my body. Bruises digging into the ground, harshly reminding me that I was in pain.
I swallow through the sudden nausea, ignoring the ache in my back pulling at the hurriedly done bandages while I lean over the papers, trying to sort out which ones I need to pass.
Whilst brushing through papers on the ground I spot a blue folder under my bed, obviously kicked under some time ago. My breath catches in my throat, and I flatten myself on the ground, my fingertips grabbing the edge.
My thoughts drift once again to an easier time, when mama wasn’t sick and Gabe wasn’t in either our lives. She’d taken me to the store - years ago - and let me pick out the school supplies I needed. Everything ended up being blue of course, but it was the thought that counted. The experience.
I gently place the folder into the bag before stuffing everything I hold dear which isn’t much to be completely honest > My mother’s recipe notecards, her blanket, and the photo album of us.
After flitting through my assignments I pick out the ones that can still be turned in, some pencils and carefully place them in the front pocket of my backpack. Those are probably going to get crumpled and forgotten but-
I pry up the third floor board from the side of the wall, grabbing the wad of cash I’d collected with various jobs. Careful I seal it in a plastic back and slide it into the hidden pocket I’d sewn into the bag.
Surveying the room one last time I feel the lump in my throat swell, I unlatch the window sliding myself through the narrow gap it provides. Goodbye mama.
~ ~ ~
“B, as much as I would love to stay at the manor I literally have parents.”
And if I want to get out of this emotionally-dead hell hole that’s my own problem. Our stand-off continues, Bruce’s expression shifts ever so slightly - the only indication of sadness from this conversation.
I - of course - feel a slight morsel of regret paint my words, it’s true though I do have parents. “I - of course you have parents, but when are they ever home? How would you feed yourself?”
I gesture to the very full table in front of us, everyone at said table quickly finding a different part of the room to find interesting. “I don’ t know Bruce. Maybe I was assuming I wasn’t completely kicked out of family dinners.”
The best way to describe his expression was pouting but even that wasn’t quite it. He sighed as if the world's weight had fallen onto his shoulders from my decision. “Very well, as long as you regularly come to eat with us that is fine. But I know you wanted to sit in on some of the board meetings and that can only happen if you stay the night.”
Curse you Bruce. “Of course, I wouldn't expect less from you.” Look at that I barely grit my teeth for that entire sentence. Where’ s the trust? Seriously?
Dick clears his throat from across the table and I immediately make eye contact with him, grateful for any distraction. “Well if anyone was wondering, Babs is coming to the next family dinner?”
Jason looks up from his moody, melancholic stare into the void, “She is? Why didn’t she text me that?” His tone was borderline whining, and internally I exhale proud of all the work he’s put in to be as in control as he is now.
Not to say I still don’t have nightmares about the last time that he lost control. Dick cringes slightly before continuing, “She may or may not have told me not to tell you.” What, Dick forgetting someone told him something I call BS. There’s no way.
Jason’s eyes narrowed, “So I’m supposed to believe that you Richard Grayson, just willingly sold her out to me? With no ulterior motive?”
Dick threw on his most charming grin, “Why wouldn’t I?” Jason rolled his eyes, but at least now the tension had broken. The events are moving a little fast for my brain to keep up whilst thinking about the conversation with Bruce.
Why don’t they trust me to feed myself?
I pause for a moment, and then huff a silent laugh at my thoughts. Let’s be real, I always forget to feed myself that might be slightly warranted.
Not enough to contact my parents like Bruce had mentioned, but we all knew that Bruce disliked my parents to the extent that he would never actually contact them if the other solution was to talk to me or (quite easily) bribe Dick into making me stay the night.
Dinner was unneventful, Damian was upset at the treatment of something or the other animal related, and B made several remarks about how Jason’s nightlife interfered with his morality that was smoothly cut off by Dick talking loudly over him about some random stray that he found. Which catapulted Damian into a serious discussion of how many animals he could actually take care of. Rinse and repeat.
The endless struggle of Dick trying to keep B from emotionally stunting yet another one of his children, never ceases to amaze me.
Alfred made his appearance at the end of dinner right before B could open his mouth - undoubtedly - to ruin the tenuous peace kept -mostly by Dick.
“Master Tim, I’ve packed you a couple meals that are easily reheatable while you spend your time away from home.” I open my mouth to protest about this being called my home - if only to hit the nail on the head with B once again but he continues. “- and I expect that Jason and Dick will accompany you to your house and help you get your packs out?”
Jason rolls his eyes, “Why do I have to help replace?” Dick throws a look in his direction, a mix of a kicked puppy and a scolding parent.
Thoroughly chastised he mutters what could be an apology as he brushes past me, “I’ll get the - I’ll get Tim’s things into the car.”
Dick stands from across the room, and pads his way over to us, “I’ll just have to grab some shoes and my badge and I’ll be over.” I nod helplessly at him, there’s nothing I could say right now that would stop any of these events from happening.
Alfred has a small glint in his eye, “I’m glad a consensus was made on your living location, though I do hope you still come back for our weekly tea?” A warm feeling blossoms in my chest, I love our weekly tea.
“Of course, Alfred I wouldn’ t miss our weekly tea for anything.” I assure him, and watch a small smile flicker over his face.
“As would I Master Tim.” His eyes shift over to Bruce who’s currently bent over his phone typing something - business related I’m sure - almost frantically. “Master Bruce, I do believe there is a rule against technology at the dinner table?”
B looks up with a guarded almost sheepish expression, “It wasn’t something that could have waited I’m afraid.”
Alfred deliberately maintained eye contact for a beat longer, “I’m sure it was very important Master Bruce.” Alfred is iconic.
At that he turns on his heel making his way back into the kitchen, “Tim! Are you ready? Jason’s started to lay on the horn.” Dick’s head pokes through the side of the entrance.
“Ya I’ll be right out, let me grab my jacket.”
My steps made virtually no noise as I walked to the banister to grab my jacket I’d thrown on in a haste to be on time to dinner. So that I wouldn’t receive a lecture on making sure I fed myself.. Which completely worked out for me.
Closer to the front door I can hear Jason laying on the horn, the beeping continuing for large intervals of time before pausing for short intervals.
I roll my eyes, and jog my way out the front door and into the car. Upon opening the car door I paused, my eyes widening no wonder Alfred told them to help me put the stuff in “Uhhm, why are there so many things in here?”
Dick from the passenger seat shrugs, “Alfred’s really concerned that you won’t come back I guess.” His voice is forced casual, my heart pangs for a slight moment.
“Dick you’re not even in town very often.” Jason revs the engine as he blurts this out and I catch Dick glaring at him from the side mirror. Are they going to start fighting again?
By some chance of fate Dick just huffs a sigh and a tense silence overcomes the car. Where the hell did Jason learn to drive?
I tug my seatbelt tighter as he makes a sharp right turn, honking at the other car that dared to follow traffic laws. He growls(?) before muttering “Where did these people learn to drive?” I make eye contact with Dick from the backseat and he grins.
Slamming to a halt, Jason pulls the parking brake and switches off the car, “Here we are Timmy, your home sweet home.”