Chapter Text
Catherine Todd had been dead for a week. Jason had been staying in the Nest for three days. In that time, Ace and Deuce had come by seven times, and Cat had never left. To call the bitter feeling rising in Tim’s throat anger would be disingenuous. Tim wasn’t angry. He was furious.
More than that though, he felt like a failure. Like there was something he could have done, but didn’t.
He was from the future, for fucks’ sake, he knew she was an addict. He knew there was a highly addictive drug on the streets, and whether or not that's what she had overdosed on, he had known she was in danger, and he did nothing .
He had failed.
It was a bitter medicine to swallow. Tim glanced over at the table, where Jason sat with a hollowed-out face. There wasn’t anything that he could do to make this better.
Sometimes Jason would startle, as if waking up from a dream. Those times usually ended in yelling and screaming, with Jason collapsed on the floor and Tim holding him close. Jason would beat clenched fists on Tim’s chest, shaking with grief, and Tim would hold on, trying to keep him safe.
Right now, he was calm. The sun was shining bright and cold through the window above the stove, having chipped its way through the dense cloud cover. Tim gripped the edge of the counter and took a deep breath. There was a topic he wanted to broach with Jason, but it could be… delicate.
“I’m worried about you.” Tim watched Jason blink slowly, not entirely registering the comment. “I think it would be good for you to talk to someone.” Now he was registering. Jason’s face started to contort in fury, and Tim rushed to finish his speech. “You have a lot of very strong feelings, as you should , but I don’t think– I don’t think you’re able to deal with them right now. And I don’t think I can help you.”
Jason’s fury collapsed, and he slumped in his chair.
“There’s a person I found through Leslie. If you don’t like her, we can leave. No questions asked. But… I really think it would be good for you to at least try. I’ll be outside the whole time, and we can get ice cream after.”
“Will Ace, Deuce, and Cat be there?”
“Only if you want them to.” Tim ran a hand through Jason’s hair softly, trying to reassure him. “I can leave too, if you’d prefer–” Jason latched onto Tim so tightly that he could see his hands turn white. His brother’s lower lip began to tremble “Alright, message received.” Tim wrapped an arm around this tiny version of a person who had once tried to kill him. “I’m here.”
Jason sniffled.
“Did therapy help you?”
Tim opened his mouth to lie, but paused. “I can’t say I’ve ever been. But friends of mine with… let’s say anger issues, have gone, and they were much happier afterwards. And we were happier for them.”
Tim had his own issues with therapists, mostly stemming from the fear of someone else being able to see inside his head the way he sometimes saw into others. The ability to read someone’s motives, trace their thoughts down to a pattern and predict their next steps, was the first weapon he’d ever gained. It was one he’d kept near and dear to his heart ever since. However, he wasn’t going to let his own issues get in the way of what would be better for Jason. Besides, if Jason’s therapist ever turned evil, then Tim would be able to take care of it. He wasn’t going to let his brother get hurt.
Jason rubbed his snotty nose on Tim’s hoodie, and Tim sighed. Very quietly, Jason asked, “You’ll be right outside?”
“Promise.” Tim felt a swell of pride. “If you need anything, yell and I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you.” Tim pressed a kiss to Jason’s hair. “I’m so proud of you.” Jason ducked his head into Tim’s chest, the tips of his ears turning bright red.
“What time do we need to leave?”
“We can leave any time in the next half hour.”
“Is it okay if we leave now?” Jason squared his shoulders. “I wanna get this over with.”
“Of course. It’s up to you.” Hopefully the feeling of control would let this version of his brother feel a little more at ease. Still, Tim helped Jason put on his jacket and his new gloves. He watched Jason run his fingers over the frayed edges, tracing the wear of time. Then he waited patiently for Jason to slide on his shoes, even as the kid dawdled.
Tim remembered that when he had been younger, he’d drag out the motions of slipping on his shoes, gelling his hair, straightening his tie, all the tiny, painful things he had to do for all the galas he never wanted to attend. He remembered his version of Janet digging claw-like nails into his shoulder and telling him to stop dawdling, but really, where was the harm in it?
Where was the harm in taking another minute or two to breathe in the soft sunlight? Where was the harm in letting time soothe the fear?
And so, Jason dawdled, and Tim waited patiently.
They were out the door sooner than he had expected, but it wasn’t an issue. He had booked three of the therapists’ slots, unsure of when Jason would be willing to visit, if he was even willing in the first place.
This was one of the only things he’d accepted Janet’s help for. He didn’t want to owe this version of his mother anything, but he couldn’t turn down the offer of financial aid (or his ‘allowance,’ as she had put it.) Her letter seemed almost nonplussed after he informed her he would be sending a street kid to therapy. She simply stated that she wished to one day meet her grandchild.
Tim was ignoring that, too.
They took their time walking down the street, watching the dead leaves swirl near the gutter. The building they arrived at was indistinguishable from those around it, a neat square of bricks with evenly placed windows. Unlike the they had come from, the glass was clean and intact. There was a short set of steps that Jason eyed like they led to his execution.
Tim stood with him until he was ready to go.
They climbed the steps together, and Jason clung tightly to Tim, pressing little crescent marks into the back of his hand with sharp nails.
The inside of the waiting room was decorated in warm colors, with reds and burnt oranges paired with brown furniture. It was a little odd to see such expensive decor in an office a ten-minute walk from Crime Alley, and Tim felt an inkling of suspicion.
The plaque on the door read “Dr. Inaya Smith.”
The room was dimly lit, and the soft hum of white noise drifted through the room. Tim had booked the sessions before and after this, so she shouldn’t be busy.
He knocked on the door.
Jason clenched Tim’s hand even tighter, and the door swung open. A dark-skinned woman peered out. She smiled down at Jason, before looking back at Tim.
“I assume you’re my next meeting?”
Jason ducked back to hide behind Tim, and he pressed a hand to his baby brother’s shoulder. Adopting his native Bristol accent, he smiled politely.
“Yes, it’s lovely to meet you, Dr. Smith. My name is Timothy, and this is Jason.” He let Jason stay behind him. “I apologize for taking up so much of your time, but we weren’t exactly sure when we would be available.”
“Of course. I don’t have many clients yet, so it wasn’t an issue.” She smiled back, equally polite. Then she knelt down, keeping her distance from Jason, who was still hiding behind Tim. It was an entirely non-threatening position, and it made Tim’s respect for her rise even more.
That didn’t mean he trusted her. There were too many things that didn’t add up.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jason. My name is Dr. Inaya Smith, but you can call me Dr. Inaya, or just Inaya if you prefer.” She smiled warmly. “I’m very impressed with how brave you are. Coming to talk to someone about your feelings isn’t an easy thing to do.”
Jason poked his head out from behind Tim’s leg, regarding her with suspicion. “Talking ain’t hard, lady. ‘S only hard if ya make it.”
“Well, if it isn’t hard, we likely aren’t doing it right.” Her eyes twinkled. “But it shouldn’t hurt. If you’re too unhappy and you need a break, we can stop. Would you like your brother to come in with you?”
Jason nodded, hands still fisted in the fabric of Tim’s pants.
“Alright then. Shall we?” She stepped aside, revealing a warmly lit interior, complete with soft, squishy armchairs, and a large couch. “Would you like to take the chairs, or the couch, Jason?”
….So she had Tim’s tentative approval.
Jason squinted up at Tim, who shrugged. Up to you .
Jason grabbed Tim’s hand again, dragging him over to the couch. As soon as he sat down, Jason crawled up next to him and fitted himself between the arm of the couch and Tim’s side. Tim had to lift an arm to let him wriggle into place.
Dr. Smith watched all of this with a placid, gentle amusement on her face, but an intelligent gleam in her eye that Tim recognized. It was the same look that he got when he had a plan developing.
“So, Jason.” Tim felt Jason twitch. “Do you want to tell me what brings you in today?”
“My brother,” Jason snarked. Tim coughed, trying very hard to suppress a laugh. Rewarding bad behavior was not a good idea, but he’d forgotten how funny Jason was. It hadn’t been showing much recently. Granted, it was only a defense mechanism, but it was still something.
“I can see that.” Her eyes twinkled with good humor, keeping the response from seeming harsh. “Anything else?”
Jason crossed his arms. “Nunya damn business.”
Tim flicked Jason on the forehead, shifting back to his Bowery accent without even thinking about it. Now, it was almost as natural as the Bristol accent he had been taught. “Language, Jason. She’s a doctor, an’ we came to her, so we should be nice.” If the shift surprised either one of them, they didn’t show it. Jason just grumbled.
“Fair enough.” Dr. Smith took it in stride. “If you don’t want to talk, how about we play a game?”
“What kind of game?” Jason’s eyes were bright with suspicion.
“I was thinking maybe Uno, or Sorry.” Tim winced at the mention of Uno, remembering previous game experiences at Paradox, but Jason straightened.
“I bet I can beat you at Uno.” Jason turned to face Tim, a challenge in his eyes. This was the most proactive that he had seen Jason be in the entire time they had known each other, much less the past week.
“I guess we have our game, then.” Dr. Smith laid out a set of cards, dealing out three hands.
The game itself was fine, with Jason winning two rounds and Tim winning one. Dr. Smith soundly trounced them both with four wins, no matter how much the two of them tried to team up against her. By the time the appointment ended, Jason was beaming. As they left, Tim mouthed Thank you over his shoulder.
Dr. Smith nodded, still smiling warmly. “I’ll keep this appointment time open for next week, in case you decide to come back.”
As soon as they hit the sidewalk, Jason seemed to deflate. He stopped short.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Tim knelt down.
“I– I forgot.” Jason began to tear up. “I forgot she was dead .”
“No, sweetheart, it’s okay.” Tim enfolded him in a hug. “Sometimes you need a break from grief, it doesn’t mean you forgot her.” Tim remembered his own twisted process of grieving for his mother, and the grief he felt towards his own (at the time) still-living father. It was a strange kind of hell, grieving someone who was still alive. Tim hoped he never had to do it again.
Jason was still crying, little hiccuping noises that were muffled against Tim’s shirt.
“It’s okay. You did really well, and I’m proud of you.” Tim kept hugging Jason until the shaking stopped. Carefully, he let go. “Do you still want ice cream, or would you rather head home?”
“Home, please.” Jason’s voice was subdued.
“You got it. I can make us some hot cocoa when we get there.” Tim would sneak a few caffeine pills in his own mug when Jason wasn’t looking. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. And more importantly, what he didn’t know wouldn’t get Tim a lecture.
~*~
As Tim watched Jason sip his hot chocolate, he began to plot. Jason would need somewhere to live.
Tim would be happy to help, but the fact remained that Tim technically didn’t exist, at least in a legal sense. He still had to create the identity that he would use for Drake industries, which could then be used to legally adopt Jason. The identity had to be rock-solid. Or even better, titanium-solid. Tim didn’t even want to think about the legal hellstorm that would rain down on him if the very public persona of the majority shareholder of Drake Industries was found not only committing identity fraud, but committing identity fraud to adopt children.
Not to mention he was still living in the theatre illegally. The run-down, half-rotted theatre. He should probably fix that at some point, given that he was basically committed to living here now.
The realization sent a cold, icy stab through his chest and Tim very carefully shelved that panic attack for a time when he didn’t have a traumatized child at his table. Closing his eyes, he mentally ran through his finances. Buying a house was a big deal, and while he had enough money for therapy (thanks to Janet), he didn’t currently have the funds to just purchase the Nest outright. Given a few months, with the drug trade up and running, and the money coming in from D.I., (and some more blackmail) he would be able to afford it, but right now he couldn’t afford to drop a hundred grand like that.
Add it to the list, boys. Tim let out a heavy sigh.
Speaking of which, it was time for him to head out for the day. He eyed Jason, who was still sipping at his cocoa.
“Hey Jason?” He waited until the kid acknowledged the question. “I have some things to get done today. Will you be okay here? I can wait until Cat and the twins get back, if you want.”
Jason shook his head. “I’ll be okay.”
“Alright. If you aren’t, use the phone over there to call me.” Tim had put his phone number on the fridge. The kids didn’t have phones, but plenty of bystanders did, and Tim endorsed stealing when children were lost or in danger. Also sometimes in general.
He had also sneakily installed a landline in the corner of the breakroom, in case there was some kind of emergency while he was out. “I don’t just mean injured. If you need me back here for any reason, including more hot chocolate, just call.”
Jason rolled his eyes, and internally, Tim sighed in relief.
“Go away, you giant mother hen. I’ll be fine. And yes , I’ll call you if I need help. Now get out.”
Tim laughed, ruffling Jason’s hair on the way out.
His list of chores for the night was simple.
He picked up another copy of National Geographic and checked the dropbox to see if Penguin had any other requests. The man had left him a letter, but there was another letter in there too. It was a neat, pressed cream envelope scented with the crisp smell of jasmine that his mother favored. He tucked both letters in his bag and resolved not to think about the second one until absolutely necessary.
The next thing he had to do was check in with R&D, who (thank god) had some good news for him.
“The first version of the drug is ready. We ran some early tests, and there shouldn’t be any severe side effects.” The head researcher was staring him down with an intensity that made Tim glad that she wasn’t a kryptonian. “What do you want us to do with it?”
“Move on to animal trials, if you’re reasonably confident you can carry out testing without unnecessary harm. Send me a proposal for your research, but don’t bother submitting it to an ethics board.” Sorry, Damian, but Tim would rather know he wasn’t consigning human beings to slow, agonizing deaths, or unpleasant side effects that might leave permanent damage. It sucked, but when it came down to it, Tim valued human lives the most.
“If you don’t submit to an ethics board, there’s no possibility of getting the drug approved, or getting a patent,” she warned him.
“Do I look like someone who’s planning to sell drugs legally?” Tim gestured down at himself, with his highly suspicious, questionably stained, red hoodie, cargo pants, and domino. “Besides, if someone else wants to recreate a beneficial drug and sell it legally, that’s filed under ‘Not my problem.’” If Tim were an actual drug dealer, then it might be a problem, but he was here for the drug, not the money.
Although the money really wouldn’t hurt, considering….
They told him they’d have a proposal ready by tomorrow night.
Once he left the building, Tim ducked into a side street and gave Mercy a call, letting her know they should have a working drug within two weeks. It was an optimistic estimate, but he needed to offer her something, and worst case-scenario, he’d just stall for another week. Which would suck, but he’d survive.
Tim felt mildly uncomfortable having left Jason alone at home for so long. The kid seemed fine with it though, because when he got home he saw Jason seated at the table, surrounded by all three of the other kids and chattering away. There was a happy flush to his face that had been missing since the day Catherine died.
The letter he had gotten from his mother was burning a hole in his metaphorical pocket, but he didn’t want to read it in front of them. However , there was no way he was kicking them out, and they were just as nosy than his original family and ten times as difficult to resist. There would be no escaping the inevitable deluge of questions.
Tim flopped down on the couch in a move that would horrify his mother, and peeled open the envelope. The letter inside was… surprisingly bland. His mother’s penmanship was as elegant and precise as he remembered, although this version seemed less rushed. The envelope had included a few photographs of dig sites and some descriptions of artifacts that his not-mother had found on her digs, but nothing too personal. He folded the letter shut again, taking a second to inhale the smell of jasmine that lingered on the cream-colored paper.
“Whatcha got there?” Jason climbed on top of his chest. Tim immediately tried to hide the letter against his face, then instantly regretted doing so when Cat made a grab for it. Her tiny hand slapped against his face with an audible smack.
Because what better way to get a child to look at something than to tell them they shouldn’t look at it.
“Hands off, it’s a very important letter.” Which only increased the kids’ desire to grab it, of course, but Tim had to say something.
“Is it from work?” Deuce joined Jason on top of him, and now there was upwards of a hundred pounds of child sitting on Tim’s chest and stomach. He let out a wheeze. Thankfully, Cat decided she wanted to curl up in the space between him and the couch, and she nudged Jason down to Tim’s other side. Ace had also laid down, draping himself over one of Tim’s shins, jaw resting just above his knee.
“It’s not from work.” Tim hesitated, before continuing. “Actually, it’s from my mother.”
Dead silence filled the room. Very quietly, Jason said, “Oh.” He seemed to wilt, and Cat fisted her tiny hands in Tim’s clothing. He felt Ace and Deuce tense, and Ace’s jaw began to dig into the sensitive tissue right above his kneecap. Jason continued in the same, uncertain tone. “Are you leaving?”
“Why on earth would I be doing that?” Tim raised his head, craning his neck to look down at his kids with confusion. “With you four here, where else would I go?”
He felt Cat wriggle happily in response, and Ace and Deuce relaxed. Jason pressed his face into Tim’s side, but he caught a glimpse of a grin.
“Oh.” His voice was muffled by Tim’s shirt. “Okay then. ‘S long as you’re staying.”
“Duh.” Tim ran a hand gently through Deuce’s hair. The other letter could wait. Right now, he had more pressing matters. “Would you like to help me draft a letter back?”
All three boys startled, with Deuce slamming his head into Tim’s jaw. Cat wriggled again, twisting his shirt back and forth in excitement. Small bits of dried blood began to fleck off and fall onto the
Ow.
“Can we?” Ace pushed himself upright, hands pressing into Tim’s leg right on top of an old bruise.
Tim grunted, trying to ignore the slight pain . “Of course. I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.”
“She knows we exist ?” Jason’s eyes were wide, sparkling slightly.
“Uh. Kind of. She doesn’t know your names yet, but this could be your first proper introduction. After all, if she wants to have any kind of relationship with me, she’s got to like you, too. We’re a package deal.” He felt Cat squeeze his shirt twice, then begin kneading at his side. Tim moved away from her hand, wincing slightly as she brushed a ticklish spot.
Her eyes glinted with mischief, and she was about to pounce, before Tim rolled off the couch, nudging Jason to the floor.
“Okay! Letter time!” Tim didn’t have any nice stationary, and he wasn’t about to run out and pick any up, so his mother would have to settle for some lined paper. He sat down at the rickety old table with his kids, paper in front of him and pen at the ready.
His mind went blank.
“Aren’t you gonna write something?” Jason’s face popped up over Tim’s shoulder as he stood on the chair behind him.
“I am!” Tim defended himself. “...In a minute.”
“You don’t know what to say, do you?” Deuce was leaning one elbow on the table, and Tim heard the ghost of his own mother yell, manners, Timothy!
Fun times.
“Why don’t I start by introducing you three. Ace, Deuce, what are your favorite colors?”
The twins exchanged long glances. “We like green.” Ace apparently liked a pale, blueish green, while Deuce preferred a much darker forest green. Pulling teeth from henchmen would have been easier than getting that out of them. Not that that was something that he’d ever done!
“Cat?”
She ran to the window and pointed up at the sky.
“I’m assuming you mean blue, despite the near-permanent grey skies in Gotham.” Cat wiggled happily, blinking in agreement. “Sky blue it is.”
“Jason?”
“I… I like orange?” Tim blinked. Honestly, he would have assumed red.
“Any specific shade of orange?”
Jason just shrugged.
“Just orange. Fair enough.” Tim wrote it down. “I think mother would love to hear about our trip to the thrift store the other day, wouldn’t you?” Every single kid immediately looked suspicious, which was honestly the correct response. Tim’s mother (as he knew her) would rather be set on fire than ever set foot in a thrift store. “Jason, what was your favorite part of the trip?”
“The ugly Batman mug!” It was a perfectly normal Batman mug, thank you. Tim’s lips twitched.
His mother would definitely appreciate that. Each version of her had found both Bruce and Batman terribly gauche, and Tim would eat his hoodie if this version of her didn’t know exactly who Batman was under the mask.
They continued on in this vein, and Tim successfully managed to fill up three whole pages without ever talking about himself. Deuce had definitely picked up on the fact that this was what Tim was doing, based on the long, level stare, but he had seemingly decided to let him get away with it.
“Hold on, one last thing.” Tim leaned over and rummaged around under the couch for where he had a polaroid camera stored. It wouldn’t be the highest quality, but he wasn’t shooting portraits. “Say cheese!” He raised the camera and snapped a photo right as Jason sneezed.
“No, wait! Take another one! Throw that one out!” He lunged forward, grabbing for the picture, but Tim laughed and held it out of reach.
“No way! This one’s going on the fridge.” He’d have to put it out of Jason’s reach, but it was definitely going on there.
“Now. One more time.” Tim raised the camera, but this time, he caught Cat mid-yawn. “...Okay, maybe two more times.”
The third photo went fine. Until the twins blinked at the same time. “...You know what, I’m sending all of these to her after I make copies.” There were immediate protests that Tim utterly ignored. “I can’t hear you over the sound of the squeezy applesauce I got you this morning.”
The twins stopped yelling long enough to run over to the fridge and pull out four pouches of applesauce and bring them back to the table. All four children then continued to plead with (read: yell at) Tim not to send his mother the photos. Tim missed the days of texting, where the photos would be irrevocably sent with the push of a button.
But no, he had to settle for holding the letter above his head and sealing the envelope while Ace and Cat tried to climb him like a tree. Jason jumped off a chair and tried to tackle Tim to the ground, but Tim dodged, shaking off Cat and Ace in the process. He grabbed Jason mid-leap and folded him over his knee, still fending off the other two brats. Then he dropped him to the ground, hopping over Jason’s prone form.
“I’d love to continue this chat, but I have a letter to mail!” Tim waved as he made it out the door with twenty feet between him and small, grasping hands.
He had added a line while they weren’t looking. If his mother had a problem with it, that was her problem. Not his.
“ These are the kids I plan to adopt. They will receive the Drake name, and I hope to see you at the celebration. ”
~*~
Tim opened the letter from Penguin away from the children, sprawled out on a rooftop in the East End. It wasn’t anything too important, just Penguin being paranoid about Scarecrow suddenly being locked in Arkham after someone supposedly ‘sold him out.’ Tim rolled his eyes.
Penguin wanted information. When he considered who would be most likely to start a fight with Scarecrow, the first person that came to mind was the Joker. Tim wasn’t going to go near that psychotic clown. Not yet, at least, and it was unlikely that the man would come after him.
The second person was Two-Face, who was still on his shit list for giving Tim his cold.
So, he could forge some photos showing Two-Face meddling in Scarecrow’s territory, or he could incite minor violence. Two guesses which one he preferred.
Tim swung himself down from the rooftop and began to head over to Two-Face’s turf. It bordered Gotham University, which meant that any goons Scarecrow had would be in competition with Two-Face’s goons. It was possible that he could catch a scuffle already going on, but it would be more difficult to manipulate the angles to portray the kind of violence he would need to really sell the act.
No, it would be better to lure one of Scarecrow’s goons deeper into Two-Face’s territory. If he was really interested in starting a war between two big-name rogues, he could pick one of the chemists Scarecrow had ‘recruited’ (read: either blackmailed, or appealed to their lack of morals), but the consequences of doing that were… not great.
Instead he’d have to find someone well-known but not important. Mayhaps the dealer in charge of distributing the cut drugs.
A smile cut across Tim’s face like the glint of a knife.
He scaled the side of an unassuming building and slipped in the window. The dealer wasn’t home yet, but Tim could afford to wait. While she was gone, he began rummaging around in her fridge. She clearly wasn’t planning to leave any time soon, which seemed pretty stupid. Arkham may as well have installed a revolving door, but it would still take Crane a considerable amount of time to escape, and until then, she was a prime target.
Hence why he was sitting on her couch, eating chips and salsa. Alfred would be horrified. For that matter, so would Bruce, but in his defense, Tim was hungry.
The door creaked open and Tim heard the sound of low cursing before the lights flicked on. The cursing stopped abruptly.
“Ms. Davidson, nice to meet you!” Tim said cheerfully. “Or perhaps I should call you Dovetail, considering I’m here on business.” She was one of the people he had considered recruiting, but after a brief investigation into her Facebook page, he had decided she was a decidedly unpleasant person.
“What do you want?” Her hand had gone to her bag, and Tim rose off the couch, flicking open his bo staff to knock her hand aside.
“Hm. Let’s see.” Tim tilted his head and tapped his chin, pretending to think. “I want Scarecrow’s drugs off the street. I want my drugs on the street. And I want you to run over and pick up his recipe for me.” Two of these things were true. The third was… kind of true.
“I don’t know where he put it.” She raised both hands, pretending to pacify him. Tim sighed.
“Ms. Davidson, I really hope you aren’t going for the alarm in your hair clip.” He smiled with enough teeth to make her flinch back. “Otherwise I might have to take more permanent measures to prevent you from escaping.” He had a pair of handcuffs in one of his pockets, but the more terrified she was, the easier this would be for him. “And, luckily for you, I know where the protocol is.”
“What’s in it for me?” She was listening now, eyes shrewd and hard. “It’s a big risk, going after something like this. My boss would be really unhappy.”
This was part of the reason Tim didn’t want to work with her. She was a sellout. Most of it was due to her habit of getting teenagers addicted to cocaine. “I don’t tell your husband about your day job, and you get to stay in this fancy little apartment pretending you’re not scum under everybody else’s shoes.” Yes , he was being condescending, but no, he didn’t really care. Also, he had zero intentions of keeping that deal. “We have a deal?”
She glared.
“I don’t have all day, Dovetail. I would hate to spoil the lovely Mr. Davidson’s night out with such terrible news.” Her husband also routinely patronized the working girls, but Rebecca had said he was fairly polite, all things considered, so Tim was going to just keep an eye on it.
“Fine. Fucking asshole.” She spat. “I’ll get you the goddamn paper. Where is it?”
Tim grinned again, teeth glinting white. “I’m so glad you asked.”
~*~
Watching the drug dealer climb through a shattered window, cursing under her breath, definitely wasn’t the highlight of Tim’s night, but it was certainly up there. No, the highlight was watching her stumble headfirst into a room full of Two-Face’s goons lounging around. The look on her face when they spotted each other was priceless.
Tim raised his camera and snapped a photo of Davidson lifting her fists, ready to fight. She had no idea he had followed her, and he’d need to keep it that way.
The sky was turning deep purple, shot through with streaks of pink and red. The evening light was enough to illuminate Tim, camera pointed through a crack in the window, but not enough for him to be clearly visible through the filthy, clouded glass.
As a fist slammed into Davidson’s cheekbone with an ominous crack , Tim took another photo. Her day job gave her good health insurance. The only thing that Tim had to do was make sure she didn’t die. Sure, he could stop her from getting hurt, but he wasn’t feeling a lot of sympathy for someone who could have tried to sell his kids drugs.
He let them duke it out for a few more minutes, until Davidson collapsed to the floor in a pathetic, bloody heap.
With a sharp tug, Tim yanked open the window and scattered pellets containing knockout gas across the floor. The goons were able to react, but not in time to escape.
They collapsed one after another, each thump a mark of Tim’s victory. He checked the photos he’d taken, carefully examining them to see if they told the right story.
It was… adequate. Without further prep time, he wouldn’t get anything better, and Penguin wasn’t worth that kind of effort.
He left the goons where they were, but dragged Davidson outside, where he ‘borrowed’ a car to drive her to the hospital after checking she had her ID on her. Her husband would get a call, and she could either lie about how she got that bruise on her cheek, or she could fess up.
Either way, the police would be getting a nice little email with some pretty pictures some time in the near future.
Tim whistled a cheerful tune as he walked down the street, half imagining the look on Davidson’s face when she woke up, and half planning the most effective way to get the photos to Penguin. He was on his way to visit Rebecca. It had been over a week since he’d seen her or her kids, and he wanted to check on them.
“Long time no see!” Tim called, waving at Rebecca. She stood on the corner, dressed in a slinky nylon dress that shimmered when she turned to look at him. “The landlord treating you alright?”
“Could be a whole lot worse.” She eyed him. Tim would offer her his sweater in a heartbeat if he thought she would take it. Had tried to, in the past, but she had just gotten offended. “We owe ya one, kid.”
Tim stuffed his hands in his pockets, avoiding eye contact. “Keep an eye out for my kids as much as you can, and we’ll call it even.”
Rebecca snorted. “Soft-hearted as always. Where ya been? You get stabbed again or something?”
“Out.” Tim shrugged. “Causing problems, you know the drill. And no, no knife wounds here.”
“Shocking.” Rebecca shivered slightly, rubbing her hands together. Tim hadn’t had the time to stop for cocoa tonight. He would have to get home soon, but he’d bring the kids on a field trip later. “I don’t believe that’s the only thing keeping you away, is it.”
It hadn’t been a question.
Tim hesitated, considering whether or not he wanted to answer. She let him stand there, lost in thought.
“Bit of a family emergency. Not anything to worry about,” he reassured her, trying to head off further questioning. “The main project I have right now is looking into alternative painkillers for Leah.”
Rebecca gave him a look that rivaled Alfred’s. There was a long pause, and when she spoke, it seemed like there was still something that she wasn’t saying.
“Somehow I don’t believe that’s the only thing you’ve been up to. ‘Sides, it shouldn’t take that long just to find some drugs. Not in Gotham.”
Tim shrugged again, avoiding her gaze. “I might be putting a little more effort into it than that.” He changed the subject. Sort of. “There might be a new drug on the streets pretty soon. I’ve been looking into it and they’re moving into animal trials shortly, but there doesn’t seem to be any side effects so far.”
As he kept talking, Rebecca’s eyes got narrower and narrower until she was regarding him with unhindered suspicion.
“You got yourself into something shady again, didn’t you.”
More like I was the something shady. Tim tucked his hands into his pockets, looking away. “You know me. Always in trouble.”
He heard her sigh. “Let us know when it’s safe and on the streets.”
“Will do.”
He turned and began to head home, but Rebecca called out, “Hey, Red!”
“Hm?”
“Stay safe, idiot.” Rebecca cocked a hip, making her dress shimmer and sparkle under the dying light. “You aren’t even close to the meanest thing around, and it wouldn’t be the same without idiots like you here. You might be as suspicious as a duffel bag next to a dumpster, but I don’t want ya dead.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Tim gave her a lighthearted salute. It was really time for him to be going. Dick would be out on his solo patrol tonight, and Tim was going back to his stalker roots, but this time it was to avoid his baby brother.
Robin only had two different solo patrol routes which was concerning, but fairly typical of pre-paranoia Bruce. Or, as pre-paranoia as a guy who dressed up as a bat and beat people with his fists could get.
Tim’s plan was to swing home and grab whoever was there (but especially Jason) and take them all out for chili dogs. As it turned out, the only person willing to leave was, in fact, Jason.
Ace, Deuce, and Cat were all curled up on the futon bed, which meant Tim was taking the couch. Suddenly he wasn’t as irritated about being emotionally manipulated into getting adequate furniture.
Jason, however, had been sitting at the table, reading a beaten up copy of Pride and Prejudice that Tim had found at a used bookstore. Both older Jason and his Jason seemed particularly fond of the classics.
He had been reluctant to move until Tim had mentioned the words ‘chili dogs,’ and then he was off like a shot, coat pulled on and sneakers laced up before Tim could finish his sentence.
“Alright then.” Tim laughed. “Off we go, I guess.”
Jason was practically vibrating as he grabbed Tim’s hand and dragged him down the theatre aisle. Luckily Tim was able to grab a hat off the wall before being yanked out the door.
“You are very excited. It’s like I never feed you.” Tim quipped. Jason stopped short, looking up at him with abrupt concern.
“We don’t have to–”
“I offered.” Tim cut him off with a wave of the hand. “That wasn’t a criticism, it was… an observation. I’m glad you’re excited.”
Jason brightened, but he was walking at a much more sedate pace, glancing up at Tim every now and then as if to check that he was still there, like he didn’t have a death grip on Tim’s hand. If Tim so much as paused, then Jason would know.
They passed the newspaper stand on the way to the chili dog cart, and Tim waved to Luis. Luis waved back, peering down at Jason, who glared viciously and hid behind Tim as they continued on.
Tim laughed, ruffling his hair. “He’s the one who buys you guys the science magazine you like, so maybe be a little nicer.”
Jason grumbled.
They were about three quarters of the way to the chili cart, passing right in front of Robinson Park, when Tim heard the sound of people screaming. He was about to usher Jason back the way they came when he heard a childish voice making terrible puns.
“Hey Ivy, why don’t you plant it right where you are!”
There was neither sound nor sight of Batman.
Goddamn it, Dick.
“Stay. Here.” Tim stared at Jason, trying to communicate just how serious he was. “I’ll be back in five minutes. If you need to, run over to the coffeeshop.” Paradox was closer than Rebecca, and The Riddler seemed fairly attached to Jason. To a normal extent, thankfully. “Okay?” Jason nodded, and Tim grabbed him in a hug. Then he let go. It was harder than he would have liked. “Be back soon.”
As he ran towards the sound of laughter and vines hissing and slashing against each other, he felt Jason’s worried eyes boring into his back.
He would be fine. Both of them would.
Tim burst into Ivy’s greenhouse. Compared to the last time he had been here, the greenhouse was much more similar to what it would one day be in the not-so-far future.
He leapt over the twining roots as they reached up to grab him. Zig-zagging through a field of overgrown vines (also trying to grab him) he scaled a nearby tree and started making his way towards the source of all the noise. The laughter suddenly became strangled and the puns cut off abruptly.
As he burst through the leaves, he saw Ivy’s vines holding Dick up by the neck. He dangled like a puppet, limbs jerking as he began to choke.
Tim saw red.
“Drop him.” He snarled, tossing down two improvised firebombs, cobbled together from junkyard scraps. A line of fire caught and flared up, separating Ivy into her own little corner. “Or the rest of your greenhouse goes up in flames.”
Ivy screeched.
“I respect you, Dr. Isley. It would be a shame to lose so much research, so much progress just like that.” His voice was icy, a counter to the fire that had begun to roar through the grass.
Ivy immediately dropped Dick, throwing him towards Tim. The kid stumbled into him, wrapping shaking arms around his waist.
Ivy begged, “Okay! Okay, I understand, now put it out, please.” She likely remembered what had happened the last time Tim had been here, considering the speed at which she surrendered.
Unfortunately for her, the firebombs Tim had put together were much less precise than the Bat™ ones. Tim darted over to the wall, turning on the irrigation system that Ivy used for her plants. It was a more rudimentary version of the one she would use over a decade in the future, but the flames hadn’t spread far enough yet that they couldn’t be put out.
“We’re leaving.” Tim grabbed Dick by the collar and started to drag him out of the greenhouse. “Good luck with the Bat, Dr. Isley.”
Dick was shivering.
Tim had to take some deep breaths and count to four over and over again, just to resist the urge to run back in there and punch Ivy’s lights out . He wasn’t built like a tank, but he was sure pissed enough to make it count.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He rubbed Dick’s back, trying to console him like he would Jason. It must have worked, because Dick immediately tackled him into a hug and burst into choking tears.
B is gonna kill me if he sees this.
The thought didn’t stop him from instantly wrapping his arms around his little brother and letting him sob his eyes out. “‘Cmon, it’s okay. You’re safe. I’m sure B will be here soon. You want me to call him?” He picked Dick up, holding the thirteen year old against his chest like a toddler.
Dick shook his head, still sniffling.
“Okay. I need to go get my brother, do you want to come with?” Tim felt Dick cling even tighter to his shirt. “Alright then. How do chili dogs sound?”
He carried his first brother back to where he had left Jason. His second brother was still standing on the corner, eyes fixed on the smoking greenhouse in the distance.
“Hey, hatchling. I’m back.”
Jason launched himself at Tim, clinging to his torso and smearing snot all over his shirt. “Don’t ever do that again.”
Tim freed one arm from Dick’s octopus-like grip. “I can’t promise that. But I can promise that I will be as careful as I can.”
“Okay.” Jason lifted his head to say something and Tim saw the exact moment he saw who Tim was carrying. His expression was a mix of indignation and complete and utter betrayal. “Who is that?!”
Dick began to wriggle, trying to turn around, so Tim placed him on the ground. Dick still clung to his sleeve.
“Child Four, meet Robin. Robin, child four.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Hmph. You don’t have to run into burning buildings to save me.” Tim could see the ‘why is he here’ written all over Jason’s face. “I thought it was just gonna be us.”
“Now it’s us plus one more tiny bird. Just until Batman gets here.” Jason still looked skeptical. “You can call him ugly to his face before Ace does, if you want. I’ll back you up.”
Now he looked tempted.
“To be fair to your brother,” Dick was still sniffling. “The greenhouse wasn’t on fire until he got there.”
Tim tried to defend himself. “It was a very controlled fire.” Jason started to look murderous again, and Tim gave Dick a look that very clearly meant stop talking. “Nothing to be concerned about. It was out in seconds. The cart you like should be closing in about fifteen minutes, so we should get going. Can you walk?” He looked at Dick, who was favoring one ankle.
“Of course!” He tried to take a step, then crumpled. “Not. Of course not.” His lower lip was jutting out like he was about to cry again.
Tim sighed, moving to pick him up, when Jason stepped in front of him, arms crossed.
“Sweetheart, he’s injured.” Tim was trying to be reasonable. Isn’t that what adults did? Be reasonable? “I’m going to carry him four blocks, and then we’re going to get chili dogs, hand Robin off to Batman, and go home. Okay?”
Jason set his jaw, looking for all the world like a tiny, opinionated statue. Still, he couldn’t hide the tiny red flush on his face. “No.”
Tim groaned. “We can talk about why this is making you so upset later. Right now, I’m going to pick you up, then I’m going to pick him up, and we’re going to get dinner, because I didn’t eat lunch, and I’m hungry.” At the mention of Tim having not eaten, Jason perked up, attention successfully shifted. It was a cheap shot, but Tim was getting desperate.
“That’s okay. You don’t have to carry me. I can walk.” He sent a weirdly triumphant grimace at Dick, who stuck his tongue out in response.
“You didn’t have to fight Poison Ivy.”
Tim picked Dick up, bouncing him slightly. “And I would love it if you would stop trying to fight Poison Ivy, because I keep having to bail you out.”
Dick just shrugged, and Tim knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere. He offered Jason his hand, and together the three of them walked the four blocks to the stand.
“So on a scale of one to ten, how mad do you think Batman will be?” Jason was hopping over the cracks in the sidewalk. “Because like, I think Tim would lose it if I tried to fight Poison Ivy alone.”
“You don’t have training.” Dick countered. “I’ve been practicing for years .”
“I think you’re gonna get grounded.” Jason sounded ridiculously smug for someone who was equally—if not more – prone to mischief.
“Boys. Can we get food and leave, please. I’ll take you to my favorite shady rooftop if you stop… whatever it is you’re doing.”
Both boys agreed, and Tim got a blessed thirty seconds of silence before Dick started talking again.
“So…”
Tim groaned.
“So, why are you here? B thinks you’re a gang leader, or a new Rogue, but you aren’t really doing anything?” Tim felt Dick’s legs swing, kicking him gently in the side. “I thought a gang leader would be, I don’t know, scary.”
“He scared Poison Ivy.” Jason countered, now walking backwards in front of Tim in order to glare at Dick. “I think he’s plenty scary.”
“Thank you, child four.” Tim wanted to take a nap. He didn’t want to think about the triumphant look on Jason’s face, or the way he felt Dick stick his tongue again. His brothers had immediately decided to antagonize each other the instant they met.
Yeah, that tracks.
“I’m not saying he’s not scary, I’m saying I thought he’d be scarier, you know?” Dick’s chin was digging into Tim’s collarbone, and he shifted the kid so he was resting on the meat of Tim’s shoulder. “I mean, all the other gang leaders I’ve met were mean, and he’s taking me for chili dogs after fighting Poison Ivy.”
Tim had arrived at the stand while Dick and Jason were doing… whatever it was that they were doing. He paid for six dogs (three of which were for Jason, leaving two for Dick and one for Tim), and led the kids up a relatively safe fire escape and onto one of the cleaner rooftops in the area. Cleaner being relative.
“Et voila, a shady rooftop.” Tim waved a hand, setting Dick down so that he was lying against the wall near the edge of the roof. Jason hopped up to sit on the ledge. Tim took a second to wrap Dick’s ankle properly, then went to sit next to him. The three of them munched in silence for a few minutes.
“So… where did you learn to fight like that?” Dick asked through a mouthful of food.
“First of all, manners. Second, none of your business.” Tim spoke through his own mouthful. He swallowed, continuing, “Around. You know how Gotham is.”
Dick rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s why I get knockout gas. You get all the cool toys.” He sounded sulky, but Tim recognized the comment for what it was.
“You’re fishing.” He said wryly. “But I built those myself. It’s not hard, if you have a basic understanding of engineering.” Jason perked up. “That I will not be teaching you until you’ve learned proper lab safety protocols.” He slumped again.
“I’ve learned proper lab safety protocols!” Dick jerked upright. “That means you can teach me, right?!”
“Sorry, there’s a height limit. You gotta be over five and a half feet to learn to make fire bombs in this house.” Tim joked. “But, if you can convince Batman, sure.” Tim knew Bruce would never agree, and even if he did, he’d just teach Dick himself. “Speak of the devil.”
While he had been turned toward the boys, B had shown up behind him like the creepy stalker he was.
“Fancy meeting you here, Batman.” Tim purposefully spoke like a cheesy villain. Tormenting his not-father was incredibly entertaining (and painful), and if he was going to be besieged by children, he might as well pay some of that on.
But Bruce ignored him.
“Robin. What are you doing here?”
Ooh, B was pissed. Pissed and concerned, which is the worst combination. Dick is going to be benched for at least a month after this.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, B. I clearly kidnapped him. Look at his broken ankle!” Tim pointed down to the bandages and ice pack covering Dick’s ankle, and he caught Bruce’s guilty flinch. “He’s not going anywhere with a leg like that.”
“It’s true, dipshit.” Jason stuck his tongue out, still covered in half-chewed chili dog.
“Sweetheart, that’s gross. Swallow your food.” Tim scolded.
Dick snickered, and Jason snapped back at him, “That’s rich, coming from you.”
Both boys looked like they were about to tackle each other off of the roof, until Tim got up and physically inserted himself in between them.
“So as you can see, Batman, the kid clearly isn’t skipping patrol. He was kidnapped!”
“And therefore I shouldn’t be grounded.” Dick turned and stared at Tim, for some reason, when he really should be staring at Bruce. Tim could picture the puppy dog eyes, shining with fake tears, through the frosted lenses of Dick’s domino. He sighed.
“And therefore he shouldn’t be grounded.”
Bruce made the specific grunt that loosely translated to ‘ Not now, Robin ’ but with a side of disapproval.
Yeah, Dick is so grounded.
Bruce held out an arm, and Dick hopped off the ledge, limping over to Bruce and climbing onto his shoulder like a brightly colored… well, bird.
“Bye, Raptor! See you later!”
Bruce grunted misanthropically once more, then leapt off the roof with the sleek hiss of a grappling hook.
“I think that could have gone worse, don’t you?” Tim turned to look down at Jason, who had slid off the ledge and was glowering at Tim’s feet.
“It coulda gone a lot better.”
Tim reached down to ruffle his hair. “Wanna tell me why you were so upset?”
Jason jerked his head away, and Tim winced, hand hanging midair. “‘S fine. Doesn’t matter.”
“If you’re upset about it, then it isn’t fine, and it does matter.” Tim slid down off the wall to sit next to Jason without touching him. “If you don’t think talking about it will make you feel better, we can just go home. But, I’m willing to wait if you want.”
Jason dropped his head into his arms, and they sat together in silence for a few minutes. The wind whistled through the empty alleyways as Tim waited patiently.
“Robin is…” His voice came out muffled. “I dunno. Robin is bright . And he hugs you alot.” Tim heard Jason start to sniffle, and he carefully leaned into his side.
When Jason didn’t continue, Tim prompted, “You know you can give me hugs too, right?”
“It’s not about that, it’s–” Jason snapped, before abruptly going quiet. “I don’t know. It’s like I look at you and I look at him and you’re supposed to be there, and I’m–” Jason broke off with another sob. “I’m not.”
“Sweetheart.” Tim sighed, wrapping an arm around Jason and letting him cry into his sweatshirt. “Jason, no. I picked you. I can pick more than one kid, but the important part is I picked you. That means we’re family.” He kissed the top of Jason’s head, making a note to remind the younger boy to take a shower later. His hair had gotten oily again. “You’re stuck with me now, forever and ever.”
Jason blinked up at him, diamond-blue eyes shining with tears. “Promise? You won’t leave like mom?”
“Promise.” Tim let Jason lunge at him, curling up on his chest and shaking. They lay there under the thick Gotham smog until Jason was ready to go home.
~*~
Despite the emotional upheaval of the night, Tim still wanted coffee. He craved coffee, to the extent where he could almost taste it. But he wanted good coffee, and that might be a problem, because by the time he got Jason home and into bed, it was nearing one in the morning.
Paradox was open until two. Paradox had good coffee. Paradox was also run by a Rogue.
Worth it.
Tim got his usual order with four espresso shots. He looked Daryl dead in the eye as the exhausted man pressed the button that would alert Nygma to his presence.
“It’s kinda late– or I guess early. I really don’t think he’ll show up.” Tim leaned against the counter, forearms pressed to the smooth wood.
Daryl let out a heavy sigh. “I wish that were the case. I really do.” He stared at Tim with dead eyes. “Any chance you could keep a more regular sleep schedule?”
“I wish,” Tim lied. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” As he waited for Tim’s coffee to brew, Daryl put his head down on the counter with a groan. When the coffee was finished, he handed it over, “Free of charge.”
“I love you. Please marry me.”
“Pass. Thank the boss, he gave the order. Also maybe don’t make the offer with no inflection. It’s creepy.” Daryl mumbled, still face down on the counter.
Tim snorted. “I think I’ll pass on marrying the Riddler. I think I’d kill him before the week was out. Either that, or he’d kill me.”
Daryl looked up, a remark clearly right on the tip of his tongue, but he froze. His eyes widened. Slowly, he lifted a hand to point over Tim’s shoulder, and Tim closed his eyes in regret.
“He’s standing right behind me, isn’t he.”
Daryl just nodded. Tim turned around to see a blank-faced Nygma with circles under his eyes that were dark enough to give adult-Jason’s humor a run for its money. “Good morning?”
Nygma didn’t respond.
“...Did you want to play a game?”
Still no response. Nygma was staring at Tim with absolutely zero expression. Then his eyes narrowed.
“Checkers.”
Tim blinked. He had assumed they were going to play chess again.
Tim really didn’t want to feel guilty about hurting a supervillain’s feelings. However, said supervillain was giving him free coffee, and hadn’t kidnapped anyone in over a week, so there was a little bit of guilt there.
They were halfway through the game without so much as a word from Nygma, much less a riddle. Tim was starting to get concerned.
“So… is that offer to commit crime still open?” Tim hedged, leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs out in front of him.
Nygma looked up, nodded, and then immediately went back to staring intensely at the table like he wished it would learn to play chess on its own.
“...Cool.” Tim honestly didn’t know where to go from here. He wasn’t used to being the one who provoked conversation. “I was thinking we could steal Batman’s cape.”
That got Nygma to react. It was just a twitch of his mouth, but Tim still felt triumphant. “He definitely has more than one, but I think we can probably get all the ones he isn’t wearing.”
“How do we get them out of his hideout?”
Tim grinned even wider. “We don’t. We steal them off his back.” It might take him a week or two, but it would be highly entertaining, and Bruce did keep letting Dick far enough off of his child leash to get into trouble, so he had lost his cape privileges. Nevermind the fact that herding a preteen Dick was harder than herding alien cats. “Plus I can act as a hostage to keep B’s attention while you monologue and give him the riddles.”
Which would hopefully keep the Riddler from hunting down actual civilians who were pretty much always unable to answer any of the riddles. It wasn’t fun for Nygma, it wasn’t fun for the civilians, and most of all, it wasn’t fun for Tim who had to intervene and soothe Nygma’s ruffled feathers. Thankfully the man had toned it down the past couple of weeks.
“ Excellent.” Nygma’s eyes had a feverish tint to them. “How long will it take you to get an adequate number of capes?”
“Well, assuming he patrols nightly, probably five days. Think you can be ready by then?”
“Of course,” Nygma scoffed. “I’m the Riddler. I’m nothing if not prepared.”
Tim had some very distinct memories that said otherwise. “Alright. So we prank the hell out of Batman in five days, then meet back here for coffee?”
Nygma’s grin was nearly manic, and for the first time, Tim shared the sentiment.
“Deal. And…” he paused, smile dropping. “I wouldn’t kill you.”
“Huh?”
“Earlier. You said I would kill you. I wouldn’t. You’re too much fun for that, and goodness knows this city could use someone with a brain.” Another pause. “Someone else, I mean.”
Tim laughed. “You just want somebody to play games with.”
Nygma shrugged, then captured two of Tim’s checkers in one move. “King me.”