Work Text:
“Drake’s Killed in Haiti Ritual Tragedy.”
“Obeah Man Claims Another Victim.”
“Tim Drake Now Orphaned, will Drake Enterprises Survive?”
“Ritualistic Killing in Haiti: The Mystery of the Obeah Man”
“Gotham Socialites Mourn: Memorial Planned for Tragic Deaths”
“Janet and Jack Drake: A Legacy Cut Short in Haitian Horror”
“Tim Drake! Gotham’s newest wealthy orphan!”
Jason hated the media circus; he’d been keeping Tim out of it as much as he could. He’d even pulled Tim out of school early, a few weeks wouldn’t matter and he knew the kid wouldn’t be able to focus with all his classmates whispering about what had happened.
Kids would mostly repeat what their parents had to say and the last thing Tim needed right now was listening to anything the social elite had to say.
Jason had done what he could, short of going himself to Haiti. He hadn’t known exactly when this was supposed to happen but he’d kept an eye on Jack and Janet’s travel schedule. He’d remembered what had happened the last time in Haiti in his universe and he’d dropped anonymous tips to the cops and even to Batman once they’d gotten word. Hell, he’d sent a tip to Clark Kent and Lois Lane hoping to get enough Super-type people involved that could stop history from repeating itself.
It had and it hadn’t. This time Tim lost both parents and Jason felt the guilt pressing him down. Maybe he should have gone himself or marched up to Wayne manor to tell Bruce to his face everything he knew and what needed to be done but he hadn’t. He’d been expecting this in a couple of years, but he’d been wrong. And he’d been weighed down with guilt.
Now they were gone.
And the funeral was in an hour.
Jason checked the time and then headed up the stairs, knocking once on Tim’s door before walking in.
Tim was just sitting on his bed, already in his suit and playing with the tie in his hands.
He hesitated at the doorway before going over and sitting next to him.
Together they sat in silence, Tim lost in his thoughts and Jason with no idea what to say. He hadn’t been sad when his own parents had died, Catherine maybe but he’d been so busy trying to survive he hadn’t really had the time to mourn. He sure as shit didn’t mourn Willis or Shelia. And Bruce was… complicated. Now with everything he could think of, he had no idea what to say.
Tim kept turning the fabric over in his fingers. “I don’t want to go.”
Jason nodded slowly. “I know.”
A long silence stretched between them. Tim’s voice was small. “Do I have to?”
Jason hesitated. He wanted to say no. He wanted to scoop Tim up and take him anywhere else—drive until they hit the ocean, keep going until the pain faded more. But that wasn’t how the world worked, and Tim wasn’t the kind of kid to be lied to. Not about this.
“Yeah,” Jason said gently. “You do. Not for them—for you.”
Tim’s lip wobbled, but he didn’t cry. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t gotta say anythin’,” Jason told him. “Just being there is enough.”
Tim finally looked up. “And after? What happens after?”
Jason met his eyes. “After?”
“Are they gonna make you leave?” Tim asked, barely louder than a whisper. “Now that… y’know. Since you’re not really…”
Jason gave Tim’s arm a squeeze, “As far as everyone that matters is concerned, I’m your appointed legal guardian. This doesn’t change that.”
-----
Two caskets were laid out side by side, draped in white lilies and dark roses, the stark lines of the wood too clean, too final. Rows of black-clad guests filled the folding chairs under the tent canopy, their faces a careful blend of solemnity and restraint. A few umbrellas shifted. A baby fussed in the back. A camera clicked once, then never again.
Tim stood beside Jason, his small hands clenched at his sides. The sleeves of his suit jacket were just a little too long; his tie slightly crooked. Jason had offered to fix it again, but Tim had shaken his head. Now, he stood stiff and silent, his eyes fixed on the caskets as if looking away would make it worse.
Jason didn’t touch him, not yet. He stood close enough to catch him if he faltered, to shield him if the weight of it all pressed too hard.
Dirt clinked gently against the wood.
A minister moved through the motions. People stood, bowed heads, murmured silent prayers. Someone wept quietly, most stared straight ahead like they were watching a movie, disconnected from the scene.
Tim didn’t cry. His face was still, almost expressionless, except for the way his mouth tightened every few seconds — like he was holding something in. His eyes never left the caskets, not even as they began their slow descent into the earth.
Jason placed a hand lightly on Tim’s back, steady and grounding. He felt the boy shift, just slightly, toward the contact.
The moment stretched, and then it passed. People began to move again, gathering their belongings, walking back to cars, murmuring their condolences in Tim’s direction, but never directly to Tim. He didn’t notice. Or maybe he did — but chose not to care.
Jason led him away slowly, his hand still at Tim’s back, guiding but not pushing. They didn’t look back. As they stepped off the path and into the short grass, a single gust of wind stirred the trees. A few leaves fell, drifting down like something almost gentle.
They had almost made it to the car when Jason spotted the figure waiting beneath the branches of a wide oak tree, just beyond the gravel path.
Bruce Wayne.
He stood alone, hands clasped loosely in front of him, suit flawless, expression composed. His presence didn’t demand attention—it assumed it. And somehow, even in mourning, he managed to look like he belonged in a boardroom.
Jason felt Tim’s pace falter beside him. Just slightly. Just enough to feel it.
Jason gave the boy’s shoulder a small squeeze. “Keep walking,” he murmured under his breath.
But Tim was already slowing, straightening up like he was bracing for an interview. Twelve years old and already trained to face people like Bruce Wayne with poise.
Bruce stepped forward slowly, meeting Tim’s gaze with a carefully restrained expression—sympathy, respect, maybe guilt hidden behind the mask of a man who had arrived just in time to be too late.
“Timothy,” Bruce said gently. “I’m so sorry.”
Tim nodded once, just enough to acknowledge him.
“I wanted you to know your parents… they mattered to a lot of people. They were respected. Trusted. Their loss is felt far beyond today.”
Jason stood still, watching. Not staring. Just… watching.
Bruce’s tone softened. “If there’s anything you need—school, the estate, or anything personal—you can reach out. My office knows how to contact me directly. No gatekeepers.”
Tim swallowed, standing straight, hands folded in front of him the way he’d been taught at a dozen charity galas. “Thank you, Mr. Wayne.”
Bruce nodded, his gaze briefly flickering to Jason—assessing, not addressing. Then back to Tim.
“I hope you’ll consider coming to the house sometime. No expectations. Just… people who understand about this kind of loss.”
There was silence then, thick with things unspoken.
Tim gave a polite nod. “I’ll think about it.”
Bruce’s lips pressed into a faint line—satisfaction or disappointment, it was hard to tell. Jason wasn’t as good at reading this one. He gave a final nod and stepped back, allowing them to pass.
------
Jason kept checking on Tim all through the night and next day. He’d let Tim skip the formal service after the burial where people would have pressed, or touched, or wanted to talk. There was no way Tim would have been up for all that. He wouldn’t have let him go unless he really pushed.
Thankfully school was out for Tim and they had all summer to figure out next steps. Jason had checked out Drake Enterprises and knew the best thing would be for it to be run in trust until Tim was old enough to decide what he wanted to do with it. If he even wanted it. From what little Jason could remember it would be a shit show in a year or two without someone trustworthy and driven to keep it stable.
Then there was the manor, neither Tim or Jason really liked it here but Jason didn’t want to start making decisions until Tim was in a better place. If Jason had his way, he’d move them both to a more normal neighborhood and a regular house where Tim could go to the same school or a more normal one if he wanted.
If Tim wanted. And provided Janet had put in the same instructions into her will.
That was what Jason kept repeating to himself, this had to be what Tim wanted and he had no idea how long it would be before the kid would snap out of his funk and be his usual self. If he would be his usual self again.
He headed into the kitchen to make something hot to drink. When it was ready, he brought the mugs over—one with too much honey and not enough steeping, just how Tim preferred when he was sick or upset. Jason set it on the coffee table within reach, then sank into the opposite side of the couch with his own.
Tim didn’t say thank you. He just pulled the mug into his hands and held it, letting the warmth bleed into his fingers.
The silence stretched on, but it wasn’t awkward. It was worn-in. Safe.
Jason leaned back, legs stretched out, socked feet resting near the edge of the rug. He didn’t ask about lawyers. Or the estate. Or school. He didn’t ask if Tim wanted to talk. He was just there.
Eventually, Tim unfolded slightly, legs drawn up but no longer tucked in tight. He was still holding the tea, but his eyes were starting to drift—half-lidded, heavy. At some point, he let his head fall sideways against the armrest, knees curled toward Jason without even thinking about it.
Jason grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the couch and draped it gently over him. Didn’t tuck him in. Didn’t make it a moment. Just… covered him.
“I don’t want to go stay with the Waynes.” Tim finally broke the silence.
“Then you won’t.”
Tim’s eyes were wide now, his anxiety obvious even if he was still clutching his mug, peering over at Jason.
Jason laid a hand on Tim’s leg and gave it a squeeze, “Nugget, you and I aren’t going anywhere we don’t want. She might not have liked me but she did name me your legal guarding while they were gone, I can’t see her changing it in case anything happened to them.”
“But what if it’s different in her will?”
Jason wanted to deny it but paused, “Then we’ll deal with that if it happens but no one is taking you away from me.”
*****
It had been three days since the funeral. The house was quieter now. No more condolence calls. The flowers were wilting in their vases, and the suits were back in the closet, hung but never quite forgotten.
The lawyer had the will reading today and Tim had to be there. Thankfully Jason’s name had been listed as someone to be there at the reading with him.
Jason found Tim in the kitchen, sitting at the table in an oversized hoodie, legs folded under him, a half-eaten bowl of cereal going soggy. He hadn’t said much that morning. He hadn’t said much most mornings.
Jason poured himself tea and leaned against the counter, watching for a beat. “We’ll need to get ready to head out soon.”
Tim didn’t look up. He swirled his spoon through the milk. “I know.”
Jason took a sip of his tea, then sat down across from him.
Tim’s eyes flicked up. “I’m not worrying.”
Jason gave him a look.
Tim sighed and pushed his bowl away. “Okay. Maybe I am.”
Jason leaned forward, elbows on the table. “What are you thinking about?”
Tim hesitated. “The house. School. Money. People asking questions. If I’m gonna have to move again. If I’m gonna have to live with someone else.”
Jason kept his voice steady. “You’re not moving unless you want to. And you’re not living with anyone else. Not happening.”
Tim didn’t respond right away. “What if it says I have to in the will?”
“Tim, I don’t think they’d have just left a minor without a guardian, Gotham isn’t quite that shitty.” Jason’s voice was quiet, but firm.
Tim stared at the tabletop, then said, almost whispering, “Mom and Dad had plans, y’know. Guardianship stuff. If something happened.”
Jason nodded. “Yeah. I know.”
There was a beat of silence. Then Tim leaned back in his chair, arms crossed loosely over his chest. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to go to some school across the country or live with someone I barely remember.”
“Then we won’t do that.”
Tim studied him. “You sure?”
Jason gave a small smile, not forced. Just solid. “Kid, I’ve had a lot of things taken out of my hands. This ain’t gonna be one of them. You’re staying. I’ll make sure of it.” Of course, that all depended on a woman that had made it no secret she disliked him.
Tim nodded slowly. “Okay.”
Jason stood and reached for the cereal bowl. “We’ll go over stuff when you're ready.”
Tim made a face. “Later. Not today.”
“Later,” Jason agreed, rinsing the bowl. “Todays for video games and not thinking too hard once we leave the lawyers office.”
Tim unfolded from the chair, moving toward the living room. “Can we get pizza?”
“Only if I don’t have to eat the artichoke one again.”
Tim gave a small grin, the first one in days. “No promises.”
Jason followed after him, the weight of what comes next still there, but lighter now. Not gone. Just shared
-------
The office was too clean.
Polished wood. Leather chairs. Thick rugs. Floor-to-ceiling windows that made the whole place feel like it existed above the rest of the world. Jason sat at the long table, hands folded, shoulders tense beneath his black button-down. He’d refused the offered coffee. He didn’t need caffeine. He needed this to be over.
Across from him sat two attorneys. A woman in her fifties with sharp glasses and a sharper voice, and a younger man who hadn’t said a word yet—just handed Jason a series of papers and flipped pages when prompted. Efficient. Cold.
Shockingly, while Janet Drake had detested him it seemed she detested a lot of other things more. Namely, Gotham CPS and most of the remaining family.
Tim perched in the chair beside him and kept his hands under the desk but Jason could see how badly Tim was twisting them up in anxiety.
“Mr. Todd,” the woman began, glancing over the top of her frames, “as you’re already aware, you were listed in a temporary capacity in the event of a crisis. The Drakes had appointed a separate legal guardian in their initial will—a cousin, based out of Connecticut.”
Jason nodded once, reaching over to lay a hand over Tim’s when the boy tensed. “I’m aware.”
“Normally Timothy would have been moved into foster care or a home but Janet made conditions in the event of her death. He was to be placed with this cousin after the funeral. However,” she continued, tapping a file with one well-manicured finger, “shortly before their last trip to Haiti, a revised amendment was added. It names you as a secondary guardian, should the primary be unable or unwilling.”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “And?”
She slid a form across the table. “The cousin has declined. Filed a refusal of guardianship two days ago. Stated they hadn’t seen Tim in person since he was two and were unwilling to take in a minor child.”
Jason almost scoffed but held it in. He glanced over at Tim, who’d gone white in the face and was trembling just a little.
“In light of that, and the amendment, the court recognizes you as Timothy’s legal guardian, effective immediately,” she said. “There will still be a formal hearing. Likely a judge asking a few questions. But unless there’s a challenge, it’s routine.”
“I can stay with Jason?” Tim finally squeaked out.
“Yes, unless you have cause that would need to be taken before the courts and police.”
Tim shook his head quickly. “I want to stay with Jason.”
“Is Bruce Wayne listed anywhere in this?” Jason asked, not looking up from the papers he’d gone back to reading through.
“No,” she said. “There’s no mention of him in the will or the revised documents.”
Thank fuck, the last thing Jason wanted to tackle was another media dust-up over a custody fight with Gotham’s favorite son.
“Estate assets and Drake Enterprise,” the man finally spoke, sliding another packet forward. “Held in trust. Tim inherits the full estate at 21. Until then, it’s under your stewardship. A financial advisor has been appointed to assist you. You have discretion for anything related to Tim’s wellbeing, education, or home life.”
Jason flipped through the numbers, not that he needed to. He’d already looked over the files the night after the funeral. He wasn’t in it for the money—but it made certain things easier. Safer.
“School administrators will require confirmation of guardianship to reinstate him next school year.” the woman added. “We’ll send over the notarized copy today. Are you planning to keep him enrolled?”
Jason closed the file, jerking his head to the side. “That’s up to him.”
She nodded, professionally neutral. “If you need us to file additional documentation—out-of-state travel, medical decisions, anything—we can expedite that.”
Jason stood. “Send me the details. I’ll read through it again tonight.”
The younger lawyer rose, offering a courteous handshake, first to Tim then to Jason. Jason took it, briefly. The older woman didn’t offer.
They turned to leave and Jason paused just before the door.
“One more thing,” he said without turning back. “If anyone tries to challenge this—anyone—you call me. Before you call anyone else.”
The woman looked up. “Of course, Mr. Todd.”
They left without another word. Outside, the city hummed below. They took the elevator down slowly, the weight of paperwork and quiet threats sitting on his shoulders. But it was done. For now. Tim was safe. The rest, Jason would handle as it came.
It wasn’t until they were in the elevator and the doors were shut that Tim burst into tears, his body shaking with the sobs.
Jason crouched, now blocking the door. Fuckers could wait for another elevator if this one stopped. He tried to get Tim to look up. “Timberly, you gotta talk to me. What’s wrong?”
Tim shook his head, wiping at his face with his jacket sleeves. “I-I…I…” His voice hitched and he kept crying but leaned forward, latching onto Jason.
They stayed like that for the whole ride down, he stood only when he felt the elevator slowing down and picked Tim up with him. “I’ve got you, Nugget. I’ve got you.” He said quietly, rubbing his back and heading out to the car. Fuckers could watch all they wanted, if Tim needed a cry, then Jason would let him. They were safe and Jason was so. Fucking. Relieved.
******
Tim sat on the couch, knees drawn in close, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, but not in the same guarded way he used to. Today, he wasn’t hiding — he was holding something. Something heavy and bright all at once. His eyes were red-rimmed and his face was wet with tears, not the kind that fell silently, but the kind that built in waves—surging up and pulling him under before he could catch his breath again.
They’d increased sessions for her with Tim after the shocking murder of his parents, she’d met with Jason and they’d agreed that if Tim was willing then it might be better for him to see her twice a week for a while and she was always available for any emergency that might have cropped up.
Unsurprisingly, in her learned opinion, Tim Drake had experienced his grief differently then other children his age did when faced with such a big loss. While it was his parent’s that had been killed, he hadn’t had a dramatic shift in his daily care and routine. In her opinion, that she never spoke about or wrote down, Tim was in better hands with Jason than he’d ever been with his own parents. Their previous sessions had always been difficult for her to listen to because of the pain this sweet child had carried at being abandoned and neglected for so long.
Parents that did not deserve the title but Tim still had loved them in his own way and he’d struggled with grieving over them after it was confirmed that they were truly dead. Now, he was making progress and better able to accept that he could cry for them but it was okay if he didn’t cry for them but rather for himself. Emotions didn’t have to make sense to logical minds; they just needed to be felt and released.
Dr. Keller sat in her chair, not too close, but close enough to be with him. She didn’t speak yet. She’d learned that when Tim cried like this, it wasn’t just sadness. It was grief for things he’d never had and wasn’t sure he could ever ask for, at least before.
They hadn’t been speaking about much before Tim had started to tell her about how it would be his birthday in a few weeks before he’d started crying.
Finally, Tim sniffed quietly and wiped at his eye with the back of his sleeve. “I believe him now,” he whispered.
Dr. Keller’s voice was soft, calm. “You believe Jason loves you?”
Tim nodded, hard. “Yeah. I do. I really do.” He blinked fast. Another tear slipped out. “I didn’t know it could feel like this. It’s not… loud or shiny or anything. It’s just… there. All the time. Like the way he always makes sure I have enough toothpaste or how he always listens when I start rambling about dumb stuff, and he never makes fun of me. Or when he pulls me into a hug and I can feel it in his arms that he means it.”
His voice wavered. “I’ve been trying to figure out how he does it. How he knows what I need. Or when I’m scared. Or when I want to say something but can’t.”
Dr. Keller waited, then asked gently, “And what is it you want to say?”
Tim’s breath hitched. He pressed his face into his sleeve and let out a soft, choked sound. His shoulders trembled, and this time when he cried, it wasn’t just a couple of tears. It was quiet and broken, like something had been held in for too long.
“I want to tell him,” he whispered through the fabric. “I want to ask him- that I… I want him to be my dad.”
Dr. Keller didn’t move, didn’t interrupt.
Tim pulled the sleeve down and looked at her, tear-streaked and trembling but honest.
“I keep thinking it, and feeling it, and it’s like… it lives in my chest now. It’s not just a wish anymore. It’s real. I just… I haven’t been able to ask him.”
She gave a small, gentle nod. “Because it feels too big or because you think it’s wrong?”
Tim nodded, breath still shaky. “What if I say it wrong or at the wrong time or it changes everything? What if I mess it up? What if he doesn’t want to?”
“Or what if it makes things even stronger?” she said softly. “What if it gives him the words he’s been waiting for too?”
“I didn’t even know you could feel this kind of… wanted,” he whispered. “He already treats me like I’m his. Like… I belong with him. And I think… I think I do. I want to belong to him, too. Not just in a day-to-day way, but in the forever way.”
Dr. Keller smiled, warm and proud. “That’s not a small thing to say, Tim. That takes courage. You’re not broken for finding it hard. But I think you’ve already said it in your own way — every time you let him in, every time you let yourself be loved without doing anything to earn it.”
Tim’s chin trembled again. “I just don’t want to lose it,” he said. “I don’t want to lose him.”
“You won’t,” she said firmly. “Jason isn’t going anywhere. And when you’re ready — whether that’s tomorrow or a month from now — he’s going to hear you. And he’s going to be proud of you. And it doesn’t make you a bad son or person to want this.”
That cracked something in him wide open. His chest heaved with a fresh wave of quiet sobs, and he didn’t fight them this time. He just let himself cry. And for the first time, his tears didn’t come from fear. They came from the quiet ache of hope. From finally feeling safe enough to want something more.
******
The house smelled like fresh bread and something warm. Jason had been baking earlier and would have dinner done soon enough. It made the whole manor feel less hollow.
Tim dropped his bag by the door and wandered into the dining room, where stacks of paperwork pushed off to one side and the table partially set. He wandered into the kitchen where Jason was finishing cooking. Jason looked up, and his expression softened immediately.
“Hey, kiddo. Foods almost done. You okay?”
Tim nodded.
Jason didn’t press. He never did—not when Tim looked like this. He just finished with the soup and dished up two bowls, reaching over to slice some of the bread from earlier before setting them at the table. He reached over and pulled out the chair next to him.
Tim sat, not because he was hungry, but because Jason had made space for him.
They ate in silence for a bit. Well, Jason ate. Tim mostly stirred the soup around and watched how Jason’s sleeves were rolled up again—how he always looked a little too big for civilian life, like he’d been carved for something rougher, but had chosen this instead.
For him.
“Good session today?” Jason asked, breaking the silence without breaking the moment.
Tim nodded again. Then, after a beat: “Yeah. It was… hard. But good.”
Jason offered a small smile. “That’s usually how the best ones go.”
Tim felt it swelling again in his chest. That ache. That wish. That hope. He didn’t say anything else—couldn’t, not yet—but his foot nudged Jason’s under the table. Just a little. Just enough.
Jason glanced down and back up, then reached over and squeezed Tim’s wrist gently. Not a question. Not a demand. Just there.
Tim closed his eyes for a second, letting the contact settle something inside him.
Soon, he thought. Soon I’ll ask him.
---
The sun came in slow through the big windows of the manor. It wasn’t sharp or intrusive—just a golden kind of lazy that soaked into the old wood floors and made the quiet feel gentler than
usual.
Jason was in the kitchen already. Tim could hear the low hum of the radio, the clink of a spoon against ceramic. The smell of cinnamon drifted through the hallway as Tim padded in, still in the hoodie he took from Jason and socks.
Jason glanced up from the counter and gave a little grin. “Morning, sleepyhead.”
“Morning,” Tim said, voice scratchy with sleep.
He moved to the stool at the island, curling his legs up beneath him the way he always did. Jason slid a mug across the counter—hot chocolate. It was one of Tim’s favorite comfort drinks, the way Jason made it.
“Thanks.”
Jason only grunted in acknowledgment and went back to whatever it was he had in the oven, pulling it out and grabbing a few plates. Tim watched him, silent but steady.
It was one of those mornings where everything felt safe. No rush. No edge. Just a calm kind of ordinary.
Tim traced the rim of his mug with his finger. “Can I help with your paperwork later?” he asked after a while.
Jason raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You want to?”
Tim nodded, looking down at his drink. “Yeah. I liked helping yesterday.”
Jason didn’t say anything at first. Just slid the plate of food in front of Tim like it was the easiest thing in the world. But there was something soft in his voice when he said, “Yeah, alright. We can do that.”
They ate in silence, but it wasn’t empty. It was the kind of silence that meant trust. The kind that didn’t need to be filled with noise.
After breakfast, they moved to the dining room. The table was still cluttered with files and forms—account statements, school stuff, property management notes, old letters that hadn’t been touched in years but suddenly mattered again. Jason sat with his usual half-focus, reading something, red pen tapping against the paper in small bursts.
Tim sat beside him, sorting a stack of unopened mail, quietly organizing things by date like he’d done the day before. At one point, he paused, holding a letter from one of the estate lawyers.
“Hey, Jay?” he said quietly.
Jason looked over.
Tim hesitated. Then he handed him the letter. “This one’s from that guy who said we needed to get that weird signature thing notarized.”
Jason gave a grunt of agreement, scanning it quickly. “Yeah. I’ll call them later. Good catch.”
Tim’s lips twitched up in a small, almost shy smile. He liked that—being useful. Being part of things.
An hour passed like that. Quietly. Together.
At one point, Jason leaned back in his chair with a groan and rubbed his shoulder. “God, I’m getting old.”
Tim didn’t look up from the envelope he was opening. “Yeah. You’re like… thirty-five.”
“Twerp,” Jason muttered. “I’m only twenty-four.”
Tim laughed, not loud, but real. It caught Jason’s attention.
He looked over, watching Tim for a second. “You doing alright today?” he asked.
Tim’s fingers stilled for a moment on the paper. He nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”
Jason gave a small nod, too. “Good. You don’t have to help with all this, you know.”
“I know,” Tim said. “I want to.”
Jason looked like he wanted to say something else, but didn’t. Instead, he just reached out and gently bumped his knuckles against Tim’s hand.
Tim looked at the hand, then up at Jason, and smiled again—softer this time, like something in his chest had warmed and stretched out a little more. It was enough for today. He didn’t need to say the big thing yet. He just needed to keep showing up.
And Jason would keep showing up with him.
They worked like that for almost another hour before Jason cleared his throat, catching Tim’s attention. “This is probably as good a time as any for something I wanted to talk to you about.
Tim shifted, curious. “Okay.”
Jason leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “It’s about Drake Enterprises.”
Tim’s expression didn’t change much, but his body stilled. He always tensed a little when that name came up—like it was a ghost that hadn’t quite left the room yet.
Jason noticed, but didn’t push. He kept his voice even, low and gentle. “I’m handling the estate stuff, and the company’s board is still technically functioning—most of the day-to-day is running fine. But the longer things sit in limbo, the more people start asking questions. Legal ones. Financial ones. And I don’t want you to have to deal with any of that until you’re good and ready.”
Tim’s eyes flicked down to the puzzle pieces. He said nothing, but he was listening.
“So, I thought,” Jason went on, “what if we let someone trustworthy step in for a while? Someone who knows how to keep the company stable until you're old enough to decide what you actually want to do with it. No pressure. No expectations.”
Tim glanced up again, wary but open. “Like who?”
Jason gave a small shrug. “I was thinking about Lucius Fox.”
That got a reaction. Tim blinked, surprised. “You know Mr. Fox?”
“I did in my world and made a few quiet checks, he seems to be the same here. He’s one of the smartest, straightest people I know. He ran Wayne Enterprises for years in my world—well. I took a gamble and reached out to him just as a feeler. An option.”
Tim sat up a little, knees to his chest. “What did he say?”
“After I explained what we’d need, he said he’d consider it. Carefully. But only if you’re okay with it. He made that really clear—he won’t touch anything unless it’s what you want.”
Tim was quiet for a long time.
Jason let the silence stretch. No pressure. No rush.
Finally, Tim asked, “Does it mean giving up the company, like a merger with Mr. Wayne?”
“No,” Jason said immediately. “It means protecting it. Giving it room to breathe while you grow up. Not giving it to another company to absorb. Then, when you're ready—if you ever want to step in—it’s still there. And if you don’t? That’s okay too. It’s your choice. Always.”
Tim nodded slowly. “He’s not gonna sell it or anything?”
“No. He’d act as a steward, not an owner. Think of it like... someone watching the house while you’re away. Making sure the lights stay on.”
Tim breathed out, steady and small. “Okay. I think... that’s smart.”
Jason smiled a little. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Tim said, looking down at his hands. “I don’t think I’m ready for it. Not even close.”
“You’re not supposed to be,” Jason said. “You’re twelve, kid. You’re supposed to be building robots and reading photography journals, not managing mergers.”
That earned him a very small, reluctant smile from Tim.
Jason let out a quiet breath, then reached over and nudged Tim’s shoulder. “I’ll keep handling the paperwork. You let me know if you ever want to talk about it again.”
Tim nodded, leaning just slightly into the touch. “Thanks for not... deciding without me.”
“Not how we do things,” Jason said. “Not ever.”
And in the soft quiet after, the rain kept falling, the puzzle stayed unfinished, and for a long while, they just sat there—Jason with his tea, Tim with his thoughts—and the house felt more settled.