Archive of Our Own ^beta

Tim was on a mission.

It was a very big one. He knew that the trek from Drake Manor to Wayne Manor was at least an hour away if he made his little legs run very fast.

But the fact was that it was raining. And that made it a dangerous mission, because water slid across the roads and pavements, making it very easy for him to slip and fall.

But! He had a jacket, he had his boots, and he had an umbrella. Yes, the umbrella was really big because his parents didn’t think he would need a small one, and its weight kind of made him wobble a lot, but it would work. An umbrella was an umbrella. And, again, Tim was on a very important and grandiose mission.

A mission to get a hug from Dick Grayson.

At the thought of the warmth, Dick Grayson’s hug had given him the first time when he was three at the circus, a huge grin spread across Tim’s face. The hug draped around him like a cozy blanket, holding him close, the hold making sparkles of warmth chase around his skin as he completely melted into it.

The rain was heavy and the wind was bitingly cold.

But Dick Grayson’s hugs were heavier and infinitely warmer, so Tim didn’t mind.

Armed with his jacket, boots, big umbrella and a backpack with basic necessities (camera, water bottle, tissues, wallet, a peanut butter sandwich and a packet of trail mix), he was ready to set out on the mile-and-a-half journey to Wayne Manor for a Dick Grayson hug.

He arrived at the front door and reached right up, stretching onto his tippy toes. The lock on the big front door was far too high for a little kid like him. But with a few jumps, Tim was able to enter the password and get the door open.

Grinning toothily in anticipation, Tim ran down the steps, letting the door shut and lock itself. His too-long jacket sleeves flapped as he ran giddily across the garden, the heavy rain dropping its tears from above.

Tim arrived at the gates and with another big jump, he was able to grab the knob and hold onto it as it got pulled down by his weight. The gate opened and Tim stepped out. He shut the gate and looked ahead at the sidewalk stretching out as far as he could see.

Taking a deep breath, Tim started marching onwards.

He let his mind wander as he walked under the rain.

He wondered what Momma and Daddy were doing now. They said they were going to Athens, telling him stories about Greek people and how they had a rich culture full of myth and magic. Tim had listened with wide eyes, not for the first time, asking if he could go along with them. But they just laughed and said that children were too little to go on trips like that, and only good boys got to go. Tim wished he could grow up and be big already so he could go with his parents to magical and historic places. He already knew he could be good, he could be the best boy in the world. Then maybe his parents would finally take him with them and not leave him alone.

Well, he was going to a really cool place now. Wayne Manor was about as coolest as it could get here in Bristol. Especially since Tim suspected that this ‘Batcave’ his heroes talked about sometimes could be under the Manor! Tim wondered if he could check it out while he was there. Maybe if he paid them enough money, they would. His mother did say that most people were willing to listen if they were offered enough money. Good thing Tim had kept his wallet with him!

As Tim walked on, avoiding the slippery icy surfaces, the rain started petering out. It went from waterfalls falling from the sky to only bucketfuls pouring down. Soon, it will be mug-fulls of water, then teacup-fulls, then a drizzle! Tim liked drizzles better than waterfalls.

As he covered at least a quarter of the distance to Wayne Manor, he came across a problem.

Tim spotted a frog.

The frog was big, and it was brown, with black spots lining its back. Its beady eyes were fixed on the rapidly gushing water disappearing into the sidewalk drain.

The problem wasn’t the frog. It was that the frog looked like it wanted to jump above the drain, but the drain was missing its grate. So the water was gushing into it like a black hole and if the frog slipped, then it would be swept away into the drain!

Tim could not let that happen.

An innocent frog’s life was at stake, and Tim was the only one around who could help.

Tim put down his big umbrella and carefully approached the frog. “Hey, froggie,” he whispered, keeping his voice soft and calm like Robin did when someone was in danger. “It’s okay. I’m going to help you.”

The frog darted its eyes towards him and Tim smiled.

“That’s right. I’m here to help.”

He made sure that his footsteps weren’t wide or his movements weren’t too quick as he put his hands out to cup the frog.

“I can help you cross the road. It’s okay.”

The frog narrowed its eyes at him, suspicious.

Tim tried giving it another reassuring smile. “My name’s Timothy,” he said gently. “But you can call me Tim. What’s your name?”

The frog didn’t say anything, continuing to eye Tim suspiciously.

The rain had lowered to pour only mug-fulls of water now, but there was still a lot of water around and because the drain was missing its grate, the water was still too dangerous for the frog—its size being much smaller than Tim’s.

Tim took another step forward, but the frog jerked, hopping forward.

Tim’s heart froze. The frog was dangerously close to the drain now. Tim gulped, he had to be really careful.

“Mr. Froggie, could you please move away from the drain? I can carry you above it, you don’t have to jump.” He moved forward another step.

The frog ribbited grumpily.

“I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Tim took another step forward. He was really close to the frog now. He just had to lower his hands and cup it in them, then he could carry the frog and set it down where it wanted.

The frog looked tense at Tim’s slow advance.

“I promise you’ll be oka—”

The frog jumped.

“No!”

Tim dived, trying to catch the frog, but his foot slipped on the wet pavement and a strong gush of wind pushed him.

Tim cried out as he fell forward. His face rushed to meet the drain with the streaming, murky, brown water.

Tim’s face landed right inside the drain.

“Glub!”

Tim thrashed and his hands slapped the pavement. Laying his palms flat on it, he pushed himself up, lifting his head from the icky drain.

“Bleh, blagh!” Tim spluttered. He coughed and choked and gurgled and spat, the icky water dripping down his face.

He scrambled away from the drain and frantically batted at his face and tongue, trying to clear the taste of the disgusting water.

He twisted his head, looking around, then spotted the brown frog hopping away safely into some bushes on the other side.

Ewwww! Stupid Mr. Froggie! This was all his fault!

Tim glared at where Mr. Froggie disappeared.

The rain had tapered down to a drizzle now and the water rushing into the drain wasn’t as heavy.

But Tim was soaked with murky water. The sleeves and collars of his jacket stained a light brown. Ick! Tim needed a change of clothes. He could take off his jacket at Wayne Manor, then stand under a hot, hot heater, letting the warm air and Dick Grayson’s hug provide enough heat for his cold, pink cheeks and fingers.

At that thought, Tim nodded with optimism and got up, brushing himself off.

He turned to where he had left the umbrella and then froze.

There was no umbrella.

Tim ran to the place where he had dropped his umbrella. He had left it here, he knew he had! It was supposed to be right—

Tim’s foot slipped on the wet pavement and a strong rush of wind pushed him.

Oh. He had forgotten to close his umbrella before putting it down. The wind must have carried it away.

Tim pouted and sniffled at his runny nose. Stupid Tim. How could he be so foolish? He could almost hear his mother and father scolding him. No wonder they didn’t want to take him on their trips. Why would they ever pay attention to a stupid child?

Tim wiped his face with his jacket sleeve, smearing the murky water all around his skin.

Oh well. It wasn’t like he could go and find the umbrella now. It was probably long gone.

Besides, he didn’t need an umbrella. He had his jacket. And his jacket had a hood too! He would be fine.

Tim flitted his gaze back to where Mr. Froggie had disappeared. He thoroughly hoped that Mr. Froggie would have a bad rest of his day for all the trouble he caused when Tim was just trying to help him.

He humphed and stuck his nose up, putting on an air of nonchalance. Then he continued walking.

The rain slowed down to a drizzle as Tim trod on. There were still grey and moody clouds in the sky, but at least the rain had let up.

That was good, Tim was getting sick of the rain.

He hummed along to the tune of The Sun’ll Come Out Tomorrow. He thought back to the hugs he was going to ask Dick Grayson.

Yes, he did say he was going to ask for one hug, but since he was going through so much trouble to get there, why not take the chance and ask for more? Maybe two, or even three? He couldn’t possibly ask for four.

Still, three hugs sounded perfect right now. The warm hands holding him close to a moving chest, soft whistling breath blowing on his scalp, lips pressed against his curls…

Tim grinned happily to himself, continuing the walk.

Then he came across another problem.

A small, ruffly-yellow-bellied, brown-and-spotty-backed bird was on the wet pavement, flapping its feeble wings and chirping weakly at the sky.

Tim stared at the little bird.

It looked really young, a baby really. And for some reason, it wasn’t moving, no matter how hard it flapped its wings.

Slowly, Tim neared it, making his footsteps much gentler than he had with Mean Mr. Froggie.

As he got closer, Tim noticed something. One of the wings of the bird was rumpled. The feathers were upturned and bent. Tim winced.

“Did you hurt yourself when you fell out of the tree, baby birdie?” he asked quietly.

The bird didn’t look at him, chirping desperately at the sky.

Tim looked at where the baby birdie was shrieking at and realized that it was chirping at a tree, not the sky.

Tim made his fingers into little ‘o’s like a binocular and put them to his eyes to look at the tree. He squinted and let his eyes roam— when he finally spotted the nest!

Oh wow, it was really high. No wonder the baby birdie had gotten hurt when she fell.

Tim looked back at the bird, chewing on his bottom lip.

He really just wanted to get to Wayne Manor and get warmed up. And he really wanted that hug from Dick Grayson. And he was already soaked and missing an umbrella.

But… the baby bird looked so… small. And fragile. And vulnerable. And desperate.

She also looked really sad. Like she knew that no one was going to come for her, but kept calling out anyway, hoping that someone would and prove her wrong.

And Tim…

Tim sighed.

The baby birdie was hurt and abandoned. And Tim, once again, was the only one around to help. He knew that if Robin was in his position, he wouldn’t hesitate to help the bird.

Actually, he probably would have caught the frog too instead of slipping and face-planting into a yucky drain.

But the point was! The point was that Robin wasn’t around. Dick Grayson was at least half an hour away. At least.

Tim sighed heavily again and rubbed the side of his right arm. “Okay,” he told himself. “Just help the bird. The nest is high, but you can climb things including trees really well. So just help the bird, then you can go to Wayne Manor peacefully.”

Decision made, Tim nodded firmly to himself.

He reached his arms out, palms up and flat, as he slowly made his way to the baby birdie.

At least, with the rumpled wing, it wouldn’t run away from him.

“Hey, baby birdie,” he whispered to it gently as he crouched near. “You look like you’re in a tricky spot.”

The baby bird spotted him then started chirping in alarm.

“Hey, hey,” Tim soothed. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help, promise— No. Pinkie promise.” He held up a pinkie finger.

The bird kept on chirping.

Tim smiled reassuringly, then slowly brought his hands together and cupped her in them.

He could feel the small, textured feet sitting on his skin, and the tickly feathers brushing against his fingers. The baby bird was still chirping, this time at him.

“It’s okay,” Tim said again. “I’m getting you home, you’ll be okay.”

Tim looked back up at the tree and pursed his lips.

It really was a long way there. And though Tim could climb really well, he still wasn’t good enough to be able to climb with only one hand while balancing a bird on the other. He needed to put the baby birdie down somewhere.

An idea suddenly struck him and Tim gasped. Of course!

He freed one hand from under the bird as he nudged the strap of his bag off his shoulder. He shifted her in his other hand as he slid the other strap off. With the bag on the ground, Tim unzipped it and shuffled his things around to make room for the baby bird. He spotted the packet of tissues and decided that this was a perfect time to use it.

Tim put the baby bird back down again, then opened the small packet of tissues. He unfolded the tissues, then lay them on top of each other, the paper getting a bit damp with his wet fingers, till he had made a mini makeshift tissue-nest for the baby birdie.

“Okay,” he told her. “You can sit on top of the tissues to keep you comfortable.”

He picked up the baby bird with one hand (she was so small), and put her on top of the tissues on his other hand. With that, he put her in his bag, then made sure that all the objects were secured tightly to the straps inside or inserted into the extra inner pockets to make sure that the baby bird wouldn’t get hit by anything.

“Comfortable?” he asked her.

She just chirped at him. Her voice was dwindling now from exhaustion. It made Tim’s heart melt to hear.

“You’re gonna be back with your family, baby birdie. You’ll see.”

He zipped his bag closed, but left a little hole on the side where the baby birdie was placed, so she could breathe. Then he gently put his backpack on and clasped the buckle across his front too, for extra measure.

Rubbing his hands together, he approachedd the foot of the tree.

The rain was strong, but the thickness of the leaves and branches on this tree was stronger. So the wooden trunk in the centre wasn’t completely damp. Tim gripped it and put his foot on a crevice. He pulled himself up, but not too quickly in case he jostled the baby bird inside his bag.

He shifted his arms and found another crevice and braced his other foot against it as he hoisted himself up higher.

This way, he climbed the tree. The leaves and branches all snagged his clothes and hair, even ripping his jacket and pants in a couple places. But Tim powered on, one limb at a time, and at a slow pace, painfully aware of the fragile life he had inside his bag. He could still hear her cheeps, though it wasn’t as often as it was before, but it reassured him enough to keep going.

The clouds were still heavy, and with the lack of sunlight, Tim couldn’t see too clearly. So he didn’t notice when a branch sliced across his cheek.

“Ow!” Tim exclaimed, touching his cheek. It burned, but he couldn’t feel any blood. He glared at the branch and kept climbing.

Until another branch snagged the sleeve of his hoodie. “Hey!” Tim shook his hand until his sleeve was free.

He kept climbing, branches interrupting him every now and then. This tree didn’t seem to like him.

Tim was nearly to the nest when he paused.

He couldn’t find another hold to grip onto.

He frowned and scanned the trunk again, but no. The nearest branches were too high for his little limbs to reach. That wasn’t right. Trees always had something. It was just how trees worked. Maybe he just wasn’t looking in the right place.

Tim shuffled around the wood to the other side and then scanned the space there. His eyes darted around and—

There! Above him!

A really good dent, carved out and ready for him lay right there above his head.

As Tim stuck his tongue out and reached up, he realized—

He was too short.

His fingers barely skimmed the hold.

Tim’s brows creased. Oh no, he was so close.

Tim looked down, then regretted it.

Wow, he was really high up. Man, the tree certainly didn’t look this tall while he was down there.

Tim gulped.

And to add to the already bad situation, it started raining heavily again.

The clouds rolled in the heavens, thinking the world wanted an encore, so they opened up and let the water flood out of them.

When five consecutive drops fell on him, Tim groaned out loud in frustration.

How did he end up in this mess?!

Tim shook his head and looked back up at the nest. It was closer to get to than the ground. He just needed to grab onto that foothold.

Smacking his lips, Tim readjusted himself.

The leaves were plenty enough that they were blocking out the worst of the rain. Tim was grateful for that at least. But the real problem was the stupid foothold and his stupid height.

The bird in his bag chirped quietly, her voice barely audible in the heavy hammering of the rain.

If… If Tim could stand on the crevice his right foot was hanging onto, with his toes, then he could get the height he needed to grab onto the foothold and pull himself up.

Since it was the only strategy present right now, there was no choice but to try it.

Shuffling his arms around the wood, Tim braced himself, let his other leg go of the foothold below and swung it around the thick trunk. He wrapped one arm around the wood, and the other room was free to reach out for the hold.

Then Tim used all his balance and strength and pushed his right foot up.

In a split second, Tim’s fingers caught onto the wood and his nails dug in. Quickly, he shot his other arm up to dig into the wood too and his leg to push against the wood. He pulled himself up, using the speed as leverage, and grabbed hold of a branch.

Tim cried out in delight. “Yes!” he cheered. He made it!

Tim pulled himself up the rest of the way and sat on the branch of the nest. It was wide and strong enough to hold him, so Tim made himself comfortable.

He grinned happily to himself, not even minding the few raindrops that fell on him through the leaves.

He brought his bag out and unzipped it to see the baby bird intact and still alive. Tim sighed, relieved.

“Hey, little fella,” he said gently. “Look where you are now!”

He picked her up in his hands, which jump-started her consistent cheeping again.

Tim laughed. “Don’t worry. I heard you and I came for you. You’re not alone now.” He patted her head gently and reassuringly. “Here.”

He picked the slightly damp tissues from under her, detangling the scraps of paper which she had sunk her feet into. Then he smoothed out her feathers, including the ones in her rumpled wing.

It didn’t look too bad. Hopefully, it would heal in time.

He put her back into the nest, then gasped when he saw something else.

Two other birds!

They were sleeping right now, but as soon as Tim put the first baby birdie back in the nest, they woke up and started chirping too. They inched towards the baby birdie, chirping at it, and the baby birdie chirped at them back.

Tim smiled, a warm feeling bursting in his chest, warming his fingers and toes even amidst the cold and dampness of the rain.

Out of impulse, he reached into his bag and took out the small packet of trail mix. He dumped the contents into the nest, smiling as the birdies all jumped eagerly at the food. Tim gave the baby birdie he had carried her own special pile of nuts.

He watched the birds for a bit, not minding the drops sliding down his hood. Feeling a random burst of affection, Tim dug into his bag and pulled out the peanut butter sandwich.

Momma bird was working so hard even in the rain to find food, Tim could help them easily to stay fed and healthy throughout the night. They needed the sandwich more than him.

He managed to get back down the tree more easily than when he had climbed up, though the branches still scratched at his clothes. Because of the rain, the branches that snagged onto his clothes again broke and some leaves managed to get stuck too.

When he finally got down, he noticed a pretty large splinter stuck in his pointer finger.

“Oh no,” he said to himself, touching the splinter wedged into his skin. Tim didn’t like splinters. They sucked.

When he got his first one, it had pushed itself really deep inside his skin, and his nanny at the time had used her sewing needle and slit the skin where the splinter was to take it out. It was quite a scary experience. Tim hadn’t liked it at all.

Biting his bottom lip, he wondered if Bruce Wayne or Dick Grayson could help him get the splinter out. They were Batman and Robin, right? They dealt with injuries all the time. So they should know better and less horrific ways to get splinters out. Right?

Till then, he supposed there was nothing to do except keep going.

So Tim did.

He walked under the rain for another good fifteen or so minutes. In that time, the rain had increased much more.

It was really pouring today. The raindrops were so fat and so fast that they borderline hurt him. Tim just pulled his hood up further and kept trudging through the wet pavement.

But of course, he had to spot another animal on his way there.

Tim would have groaned in exasperation if it weren’t for one detail.

This animal was a dog.

And not just any dog, but Ace the Batdog.

It wasn’t too commonly known that Batman had a dog. Tim only knew because of his adventures clambering around Gotham and its rooftops. But Batman had a dog who occasionally came in to sniff out crime scenes or track down leads. He would never join Batman and Robin during fights unless it wasn’t expected. But even then, the hound was as ferocious and strong as his owner.

But right now? Right now, Ace was an angel in sight.

“Ace!” Tim called out, running towards the dark figure. “Ace! AAAAAAACE!”

His shouting paid off and Ace’s keenly honed ears caught his small voice through the heavy rain.

“Wroouf!” Ace shouted, running towards him.

Tim laughed and pedalled his legs faster.

The ground was really slick and slippery, and Tim’s footing stumbled again, but Ace had fortunately run up in time to catch him and keep him from face-planting into the water again.

The dog pulled him up and sniffed his clothes, then barked again. He walked around him, sniffing and picking his scent.

When he stopped, he sat in front of Tim and stuck his tongue out, panting happily.

“Ace!” Tim exclaimed, reaching out to rub his back and head. “Boy, am I glad to see you.”

Ace barked again and started licking Tim’s face.

Tim laughed again, squeals pealing out from his throat at the dog kisses. “Gosh! What are you doing here, boy? It’s raining too hard for you to be out here.”

Ace stopped licking him and pulled back. He barked at him and then looked in the other direction—the direction where Tim was heading from the start.

“Oh, you’re trying to make it back to Wayne Manor?” Tim asked. “Me too! We can go together!”

Ace agreed with a bark.

“You’re really soaked, Ace,” Tim said. He looked down at his red jacket and considered.

It wouldn't do well if Batman’s dog got sick. How would Batman be able to solve crimes and hunt down criminals then? He didn’t think Robin would be very happy with a sick dog either. And a sick Tim didn’t really matter compared to a sick dog.

Tim took off his jacket. It was soaked, but the inside was dry and would keep Ace warm. He draped the jacket over him and tied the sleeves around his collar like his cape.

Ace blinked at him with a confused expression. Tim smiled and patted his head. “Lets go?”

Ace barked and started walking forward, expecting Tim to follow.

With a big grin on his face, Tim did.

Ace was a truly intelligent dog, Tim knew. He was smarter than most and could pick up on a scent from miles away. It was how he recognized Tim.

During one of his trips following Batman and Robin around Gotham, Tim had followed them into a church’s kitchen where a murder had happened. He was peeking at what the heroes were doing from outside, when, out of nowhere, he heard a growl behind him.

Tim’s heart had kicked up a gear and he slowly turned to see a massive, dark hound that could probably rip your throat out really easily, staring at him.

But Tim loved animals. He adored them and loved playing with them. He had even saved a couple of kittens from trees. Which was why he had packed animal snacks ready in his bag whenever he went out.

So, slowly reaching into his bag, he pulled out a dog treat and held it out towards the hound with eyes as wide as saucers.

The hound didn’t react at first, but when Tim didn’t move any further or do anything suspicious, he dropped his guard the slightest bit and took a step near him.

Tim waited and let the dog do its check and sniff him out and sniff the treat too. Then, still a little warily, the dog took a bite of the treat.

Tim’s lips had stretched widely into a smile and he patiently held his hand out. The dog, seeing as the treat as just that—a harmless treat, had then chomped the entire biscuit, golfing it down.

Tim chuckled softly and reached into his bag to pull out more. And the dog had eaten it all.

In the middle of Tim rubbing its head, he heard Batman from inside calling out, “Ace!” sharply.

Immediately, the dog had straightened up and darted off.

Since then, Tim had known about Batman and Robin’s personal dog friend.

Now, he jogged along the sidewalk with Ace, telling him all about how he really wanted a hug today, how Mrs. Mac couldn’t come because she was sick, how his parents had been away for a month now, how he didn’t have any nannies anymore, and so he had decided to go to the one person who had given him a hug before—Dick Grayson.

At the mention of the name, Ace’s ears had perked up.

Tim also told him about the journey he had gone through to get to Wayne Manor, about the Mean Mr. Froggie, the lost umbrella, and the small baby birdie.

“I’m really glad to see you now, Ace,” Tim said as his little legs sprinted to keep up with Ace’s pace (though he had a feeling that Ace was running as slow as he could for Tim). “I know you can take care of yourself. It’s nice. I was getting real tired of seeing random animals who needed help—”

Tim skidded to a sudden stop.

Why?

Because he had just spotted another random animal in need of help.

Halfway through the wet road, was a brown snail, using the water to speed across the road…

And straight into a sewer.

“Oh no!” Tim pointed at the snail. “It’s going to get washed away!”

Tim ran towards the snail, but because of the water, it was slipping away really quickly.

“Stop! Stop!” Tim screamed, waving, but the snail didn’t listen.

Tim forced his legs to race faster and panted as his arms swung quickly by his sides, sprinting to get to the poor Mr. Snail.

But Mr. Snail was too quick. He was getting closer and closer to the sewer and there was a bright white light coming from ahead and—

“Mr. Snail, NO!”

Tim leapt forward and cupped his hands over the snail, but as soon as he did, the white light shone directly into his eyes and a high-pitched beeeeeep was getting louder and louder, deafening his ears and Tim couldn’t see what—

Someone grabbed his collar and ran.

The rain struck painfully against his skin, the BEEEEEP and RUMBLE of thunder consumed his ears, bright flashes of light blinded his vision, and a sharp pain stung over his knees.

That was a car. The bright white light and the beeping.

Moreover, the rain had just turned into a storm. And Tim was in the middle of it.

It was so much. It was all too much.

His heart hammered in his chest at the near-accident and Tim couldn’t breathe. He struggled to suck in a breath, but there was water under his cheek and his heart was trying to get out of his throat.

And so when Tim coughed and gagged, trying to remember how to breathe again, he realized—

This mission was cursed.

Tim curled into himself, holding Mr. Snail close to his chest with his knees, and whimpered.

He nearly drowned in drainage water, lost his umbrella,got a splinter and several scratches, nearly got hit by a car, and the entire time, he was soaking wet and numb with cold.

Tim didn’t think getting a hug would be this hard.

He only stopped to help those animals out because he thought it was the right thing to do. He only wanted to help them like Robin, but just ended up making it worse for himself.

Because Tim was a failure. He was a disgrace. It was why his parents left him alone all the time.

Not because he was too young to go with them, but because he was a disappointment.

A sob burst out of his throat and Tim’s chest ached with it. The sob broke through the shock and Tim sucked in a big breath before releasing all the air out in another loud sob. Tears dripped down the side of his face as he laid on the ground, mingling with the insistent rain. His knees burned with the road burn and Tim didn’t need to open his eyes to know that his pants were probably ripped and stained with red.

His head ached as another sob tore out of his chest. And Tim started crying.

He wanted a hug. He just wanted a hug. Was that too much to ask for? Couldn’t six-year-olds just ask for hugs and get them without having to go through so much? Was the world really as unfair as that?

Something soft touched his cheek, startling him out of his thoughts.

Tim blearily opened his eyes, still sobbing heavily and saw Ace.

He was looking down at Tim with concern. He nudged Tim with his nose again and licked his cheek. Ace whined.

Tim sat up, tears still blurring his vision. He sobbed once, but swallowed, pushing it down.

He uncupped his hands and revealed the snail. Timidly hiding in its shell.

At least… at least Mr. Snail was alive.

Tim sniffed and put the snail down gently. He didn’t move out of the shell, but Tim knew he would when he was ready. Snails were easily frightened, he knew. But they always came back out again to face the world.

They were easily frightened, but they were also brave.

He sniffed again and stood up on shaky legs.

He could be brave too. Tim knew from the start that the journey to Wayne Manor was going to be long and perilous with this rain. He knew what he was getting himself into from the start. And he needed to stick with it and keep moving on.

Tim wiped his nose with his sleeve and turned towards the direction of Wayne Manor.

“Ace?”

Ace appeared at his side, brushing against his legs. He too looked ahead with determination. Tim nodded at him.

“Let’s go.”

It was only a fifteen-minute walk now. But it would be less if he ran.

Though he was hurt and his knees were badly bleeding and stinging, Tim was filled with newfound resolve. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and his eyes focused straight ahead with newfound drive.

Tim was on a mission. Even if it was cursed. And by God, was he going to complete it.

Tim and Ace ran through the street.

The rain didn’t let up, taking their journey as a challenge. It pelted all it could and the distant thunder and lightning Tim had seen before, started too.

The sky roared at them and flashed its lightning across the dark clouds, the storm angry at both of them for denying its ferocity and continuing their mission. It sent the wind pushing in the direction against them, the elements of nature working together to keep them from reaching their destination.

But Tim and Ace were never the ones to give up. They were brave, and nothing nature could throw at them would stop them. So on they ran.

They ran and ran and ran until…

“Wroof!” Ace barked. “Wroof, wroof!”

“I see it!” Tim yelled, his legs kicking up a pace at the giddiness rising in his chest again. “I see it, Ace! I see it!”

Wayne Manor appeared in view, blurry and misty in the heavy rain and darkness, but its dark, looming building stood out as clear as a sun in front of them.

“We made it!” Tim cheered, his feet bouncing with happiness as he ran. “Ace, we made it!”

Ace howled in happiness with him.

They raced to the gates, the wind, lightning, rain and thunder getting desperate to keep them away.

Tim used all his stamina and strength to push through. Ace beside him did the same. He growled and snapped at the wind.

Finally, after ages spent battling the wind, they arrived at the gates.

Tim stared up at the humungous metal gates.

They were nothing like Drake Manor’s, they were big and spiky and definitely not easy to climb. And with this much rain and wind, how was he going to—

“Woof.”

Tim turned towards Ace.

A small scanner, about Ace’s height, stuck out from the wall. Ace had his paw on it and pale blue light emitted from it as it scanned.

Tim’s face split into a big grin. Of course, Batman’s dog would have access.

The scanner stopped and slipped back inside the stone, sealing up again, and the gates slowly creaked backwards.

Tim cheered and Ace barked as the gates opened. They darted inside, keeping up the pace and running all the way to the front door.

Tim flew over the three steps in front of the door and arrived under the stone shelter of the doorstep, blocking the rain.

He panted with his hands resting on his thighs, chest heaving to suck in air. Ace stood beside him, shaking his body and getting rid of the rain.

But since Tim was right beside him, the water only got on him instead.

“Heyyy,” Tim complained, but was cut off when he heard footsteps and voices getting closer inside.

A moment later, the panicked voice of Dick Grayson, the crisp one of Alfred Pennyworth and the calm one of Bruce Wayne came into focus.

“...see, chum? Told you Ace would find his way ho—”

The voice halted as soon as the door opened.

A soaked-to-the-bone six-year-old Tim Drake, with sopping wet clothes stained brown, with leaves and twigs stuck in his hair and scratches and rips on his clothes, as well as two large rips on his pants with bloody knees peeking out with grains of asphalt stuck to the skin, stood on the doorstep of Wayne Manor next to an equally soaked dog wearing a red jacket with various rips and leaves on it.

“Hello, Dick Grayson,” the boy grinned, his dirtied and scratched face highlighting his puffy red eyes and pink nose.

He sneezed, too big for a small thing such as himself, and sniffled his nose.

Then he looked up at Dick and declared, “I would like one hug, please.”