Chapter Text
The blaring of his alarm jolts him from his sleep, Tim rolls towards the sound, blindly groping for his phone trying to turn it off. After a moment he’s successful, and the grating noise stops. Tim groans tiredly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
He wasn’t used to getting up this early any more.
Tim stretches as he stands, then quietly pads over to his closet pulling out his school uniforms. It feels strange to wake in his room at Drake manor. He’s gotten so used to waking up at home Wayne Manor, that he almost panicked waking up the first night back.
The worst part of it is having to wake up early for the bus again. Which meant getting up and biking to the stop before the sun was even up.
He’s sure if he asks, Alfred or Dick would pick him up and drive him, but his parents might be upset if he did that. Not only is he supposed to be independent, but they might see that as Tim letting something slip about the previous arrangement. They had interrogated him the second they had gotten home. Making sure he hadn’t told Dick anything about his lack of adult supervision when they weren’t in Gotham.
Tim had of course lied, telling them Dick was still completely unaware.
Really it was much easier to keep the peace and take the bus while they were in town. He’s lucky they agreed to him staying with Dick on a more permanent basis, he’s not pushing his luck just so he can sleep in.
Once he’s dressed, he grabs his backpack by the door, and heads down to eat breakfast.
He can hear a commotion as he heads down the stairs to the kitchen, his parents loading bags into the car prepping for their next trip. Tim just heads to the kitchen, intent on making himself a bowl of cereal.
“Morning Tim.” Janet greets, as she slips past trying to carry four bags.
“Morning.” Tim responds.
“Richard is picking you up after school, correct?” Janet asks as she wrestles her bags through the door.
“Yes mom.” Tim confirms, entering the kitchen and grabbing the box of cereal on the counter. “Then he’s going to drop me off at Judo.”
“Wonderful.” Janet successfully gets all four bags through the door. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth before you go.”
Tim rolls his eyes. “I won't."
Tim finishes shoveling down his breakfast, then darts back upstairs to brush his teeth. He runs down the stairs grabbing his bag, then heading to the closest by the door for his coat. He can’t help but grin as he slips on the Nightwing themed coat.
Janet comes back in as Tim throws his bag over his shoulder.
She puts a hat on his head, pulling it lightly over his eyes. “I love you, be good for Richard. Your father and I won’t be back until April, we’re not sure the exact date, but we’re aiming for mid April. Now get going before you miss the bus.”
Janet pats his cheek, and Tim slips past her out the door.
“Bye mom, I love you!” Tim calls as he leaves, grabbing his bike and waving at his dad as he passes. “Bye Dad!”
“Bye champ! Be good while we’re gone!” Jack calls, “We’ll see you in the spring!”
The cold wind bites at his cheeks as he flies down the road. He's glad the road is usually well maintained, it would suck to hit a patch of ice on his bike. He’s hit one in the past and it sent him skidding into a snow drift, leaving his leg a sore bloody mess. Thankfully his bike hadn’t broken, or he’d of had to get up even earlier and walk to the bus stop.
He hears honking behind him, and he glances back to see his parents car, they wave at him as they pass. Tim waves back, watching the car as it leaves. Why couldn’t they have given him a ride to the bus stop?
Tim arrives at the bus stop, shoving his bike into the bushes just as the bus rolls to a stop. The driver looks surprised to see him, it has been awhile since he’s taken the bus anywhere. Tim nods in greeting, going to his usual spot and pulling out his phone and headphones.
It almost feels strange to be on the bus again, Dick was pretty insistent on making sure he got a ride to school, be it from Dick or Alfred. There’s a part of him that misses that independence, the ability to do whatever he wants. Running around Gotham, watching the city and its heroes through the lens of his camera.
He wouldn’t trade it though, living at Wayne manor, being Robin. That’s worth more than any freedom offered by being alone. He loves Dick, Babs and Alfred, he loves all the family he’s gained in the Titans and Selina. He loves Van Gogh and Cleo, he’d never be able to have a pet if he was still at Drake manor. He’s still so afraid of messing up and losing it all.
The ride is quiet, he can track the stops by the people entering and exiting the bus. Regular Gothamites on their daily commutes. Tim pulls out a fidget cube, a gift from Babs, for something to do with his hands and lets himself zone out not worrying about missing his stop.
“Thank-you!” Tim hops off the bus, adjusting his backpack as he starts to walk towards the school.
The bus stop is a half block away from the school, Tim bops his head to the music blasting from his headphones as he walks. He is so absorbed in the music that he almost misses it when a van starts to follow him. It’s going slow, one could almost believe it was looking for the right store, but Tim’s hairs are standing on edge.
He moves further from the road, and speeds up, the van speeds up as well, pulling over just ahead of him. Tim turns to run as Two men hop out of the van. He doesn’t get far, a pair of arms go around him lifting him up, the other man holds a cloth over his face.
Tim holds his breath and flails, kicking out at anything close, he hears someone grunt as his foot makes contact. As they drag him into the van, his lungs start to burn from the exertion. Eventually he breaks as the van starts driving away, taking a gasping breath. Darkness creeps into his vision, and his grasp on consciousness slips away from him.
He wakes up with a pounding head ache, god chloroform sucks. He’s tied to a chair with rope, in a cool, damp room. A chill runs through him, his coat is gone, along with his hat. He’s not really sure why they would remove those, maybe just to make him uncomfortable.
Tim flexes his arms to test his bindings, tight, but he’s not losing circulation. He doesn’t open his eyes, keeping slack and straining his ears to try and get his bearings. He hears the low mummer of voices, he can’t make out words, but he hears at least five distinct voices. The room is echo-y but not the echo of a large warehouse, more like an empty room.
There’s light hitting his face, but not the harsh unnatural light, most likely it’s light filtering in from a high up window. The room smells of damp and mold, along with the faint smell of exhaust and the sound of cars passing.
A basement, close to a road, but not a busy one. He might be somewhere in the East End, but it’s hard to say until he can look outside.
He works moisture into his dry mouth as he slowly opens his eyes, squinting in the light. He sees his kidnappers gathered by the door, one of them is holding what must be his phone, looking unhappy. They probably tried to call his parents, jokes on them, they’re on a plane right now and won’t answer any calls.
He looks up at the window, he can’t see outside, but he is sure he’s in a basement. Pipes, vents and exposed wiring run above his head, a couple crates are up against the wall near the window. Visible water stains around the window, it’s definitely not sealed properly.
“Look who’s finally awake!” One of the men remarks, having noticed Tim looking around. “How was your nap?”
“Awful, I’m leaving you one star on yelp.” Tim replies. “You couldn’t have tied me to a more comfortable chair.”
The man grins, leaning against his chair and getting in his face. Tim notices he doesn’t have eyebrows. “The feedback is noted, next time we’ll get you a cushion. But I figured this was an improvement from the floor.”
Tim keeps his confusion off his face, No-brows grabs his roughly grabs his jaw. “This time you’re not slipping away from us. Now how can we contact your parents?”
Images flash through his mind from when he was seven, the phantom sting of the glass cutting into his arm, the smell of alcohol, the painful trek back home. The night spent picking out slivers of glass and wrapping up the cut on his hand. There’s still an ugly scar on his palm from that night, though it’s faded with time.
He looks different, but then again his memory from that night is a little patchy.
“My parents are on a plane to Cairo.” Tim states. “You can try-”
“We are not calling the assistant.” No-brows snaps. “I’m not waiting around for the board to decide to pay the ransom, while the police come to find you.”
“Then you’ll have to wait until my parents land, and switch to the international sim.” Tim shrugs. “Hope you brought some cards, it might be awhile. They don’t always remember to switch once they land.”
No-brows steps back, then lashes out, striking Tim across the face. Tim tastes blood before the pain fully registers, he blinks back tears from the pain, spitting out a glob of blood and saliva.
“How do we contact your parents?” No-brow grabs his jaw again, pushing his thumb into what must be a newly forming bruise. “We’re not contacting anyone else, I speak to your parents, or you start getting fingers removed.”
“The second number under their contact is the one you should call,” Tim explains, it seems they haven’t figured out that his current guardian is the son of billionaire Bruce Wayne. “That’s their international cells, they probably aren't on yet, but you can leave a message they’ll see as soon as it is. If it’s them you want to talk to, that's the only way.”
He’s not going to be the one to tell them, it won’t be long until the school reports he skipped, and Dick will know something is up. Plus he has a watch with a panic button Dick has gifted him. He thinks he can get it, he’s just waiting for an opportunity to not give it away. If he’s lucky these guys will leave and he can slip his bindings.
No-brows shoves him away, the chair tips backwards and Tim has to throw himself forwards to rebalance.
“I’m beginning to wonder if your parents give a shit about you kid. You better hope they check their messages soon.” No-brows states, “Or I won’t be so gentle next time I come down here.”
The men filter out through a door, Tim catches a glimpse of a set of stairs on the other side. Definitely in a basement. Tim strains his ear, trying to hear any footsteps returning as he begins to shift his wrists. He’s able to get the knot, and starts to work on the rope. Selina and Dick had spent hours teaching him to escape all sorts of bindings, this should be simple.
The rope comes loose, falling to the ground. Tim takes a moment to massage his wrists, then presses his panic button. One long press to alert Dick he was in trouble, something that can’t be easily activated on accident. Tim unties his feet then goes to inspect the window, there’s a rotting wooden crate under it, but it’s not tall enough for Tim to be able to reach the window if he climbs it.
He goes back to the chair, it’s a cheap metal folding chair, light enough for Tim to lift. Tim carries it over to the window, hefting it on top of the wooden crate. It’s not the most stable thing, but it should be enough for Tim to climb up.
Ever so carefully Tim begins to climb up onto the wooden crate. The wood creaks under his weight, but doesn’t break. His legs shake as he stands, but he doesn’t hesitate, climbing on top of the chair. The chair wobbles dangerously, but Tim is able to stand fully, steadying himself against the window ledge.
The window ledge is full of cobwebs, the window itself discolored from smoke and dirt. There’s no foot traffic to be seen, just the odd car. The sun tells him it’s around 11, over three hours since he was grabbed.
Schools need to report unexpected absences within twenty-four hours. They might have called Dick, but they also might have tried to contact his parents first. He’s not sure what the exact arrangement is with that.
Tim ignores the gross feeling of the cobwebs and starts trying to open the window. It doesn’t budge. He checks if it’s locked, it’s not, and tries again. The chair rocks beneath him, making it difficult to get the leverage needed.
Finally the window slides open, nearly causing Tim to fall, just as the door behind him bursts open.
An enraged shout comes from behind him. “Fucking brat!”
Tim’s heart leaps in his chest as he scrambles to climb out the window, accidentally kicking the chair out from under him in his panic. Suddenly there's a hand on his leg, and he’s being dragged out of the window. His chin bangs against the ledge and fingers scrape against the pavement, he was so close Then he’s falling onto the crate, the wood breaking from the impact. His head hits against something and it all goes black.
He’s not out for long, because when he comes to he’s being dragged to his feet by the front of his shirt. The world tilts, and he’s unable to get his feet under him before he’s being thrown back to the middle of the room. The other men are there, watching with a vindictive gleam in their eyes.
Tim tries to push himself up onto his hands, but doesn't get far before he’s being picked up by his upper arm. Tim bites back a gasp of pain, as no-brows grabs his hair with his other hand forcing him to look up.
“Did you really fucking think you could escape?” No-brows snarls. “Do you think I’m that stupid?”
“Yeah,” Tim chokes out, meeting his glare straight on. “You seemed pretty dumb to me, leaving me alone after last time.”
“You’re so clever huh?”
Tim spits out a mouthful of blood in his face in response. “I’m not clever, you're just easy to outsmart.”
No-brows let go of his hair, wiping the blood off his face. “Ballsy, but stupid.”
Tim is suddenly being spun around, his arm is wrenched back and-
POP
Tim screams.
No-brows lets him fall to the ground, crouching by his head. “Let’s see you try that again.”
The world spins, nausea bubbling up as he tries to breathe through the pain. Hot tears stream down his face, mixing with blood.
He wants to go home.
No-brows stands up, walking out of his line of sight. Tim hears the sound of metal scraping against the floor, causing pain to spike in his head, and the chair is slammed down next to his head. His vision whites out, as he’s yanked off the floor and shoved into the chair. Someone comes behind him, and yanks his arms together behind his back. Tim bites down on his tongue, not wanting to scream again.
His arms and feet are tied painfully tight, Tim’s chest heaves as he pants from the pain.
“I was scrolling through your phone, and you’ll never guess whose name I found.” No-brows holds up Tim’s phone, Tim glares up at him. “Dick Grayson, the son of Bruce Wayne, one of the richest men in the world. So I did some research, and man I should have done that sooner. Because it turns out, according to your texts you’ve been staying with the Wayne's. I’ve been barking up the wrong tree this whole time. Let’s see if the Wayne’s are more motivated to see you make it home in one piece.”
Tim glares at No-brows as he snaps a photo of Tim, the flash making him flinch. No-brows shoves him back, Tim doesn’t react in time, and slams down onto his arms. A scream rips from his throat, that turns into a sob. Nausea swells, and he turns to the side as best he can, vomiting all over his shoulder and the floor.
Tim gags as the vomit soaks into his shirt, and hears No-brow scoff, and walk away. He hears the door open and shut, but can’t tell if he’s alone, or if they left a guard this time. Not that it would matter, Tim can’t escape like this, his arms are trapped beneath him beginning to go numb.
Tim shifts, trying to remove some of the pressure, but is unsuccessful. Finally he just gives up, staring up at the ceiling blankly, fighting to stay conscious. He’d have to wait for Dick to come get him.
As he sits there, his mind starts to drift, what if Dick doesn’t come? he feels far away. What if the panic button doesn't work Like he’s watching himself from a distance. What if Dick just decides he’s not worth saving. Time passes in a weird way, slow and fast, he’s not sure he manages to stay conscious the whole time.
He hears a large bang from somewhere above him, dust falling from the ceiling onto his prone form.
Weird, he wonders what that is.
The noise doesn’t stop, only getting louder, closer, sending fresh spikes of agony through his head. A door opens, and he can hear shouting, the sound of fists hitting flesh. Tim tilts his head back, and sees a man crumple to the ground near his head.
The movement sends the world tilting again, before his vision is covered by inky blackness. He looks up and sees a familiar pinched expression of worry.
“Dad?” His voice is soft, barely above a whisper, he wonders if Dick even hears him.
Dick kneels near his head, his hands cupping his face. “Hey sweetheart, I’m here.”
“Dad!” The words come out as more of a relieved sob then anything else. “Dad!”
Dick shushes him, “It’s okay love, I’m here, tell me where it hurts.”
Tim tries to focus, on all the aches and pains, on what's most important, sorting through jumbled thoughts. “Head, probably concussion. Multiple bruises, and lacerations. Dislocated left shoulder.”
He hears Dick swear, then the world tilts, as Dick pulls the chair upright. His arms tingle as Dick removes the bindings on his hands. Tim pitches forwards and vomits again, though it’s mostly just stomach bile. Dick is there rubbing his back and soothing him.
“H’rts.” Tim whines, word slurring together, leaning against Dick as he unties his legs. “Dad, I’w’nta go home.”
“I know it hurts baby, you’ll be home soon.” Dick promises, lifting him up and wrapping him in his cape.
“I alm’st got away.” Tim tells him, suddenly desperately needing him to know he tried. “Climbed the crate, s’why it’s brok’n. He pull’d me d’wn.”
“Who did?” Dick asks.
“No-brows.” Tim states.
“No-brow?” Dick sounds confused, even though it makes perfect sense.
“Yeah, s’got no-brows.” Tim giggles, resting his head against Dick's shoulder. “He s’one, popped my should’r out too.”
“Him?” Dick asks, Tim glances down at a man writing on the floor, eyes starting to flutter open.
“Uh huh.” Tim confirms.
Dick hums, pressing Tim’s face into his shoulder.
CRACK
Tim hears No-brow scream, then he’s being carried out of the basement. Dick pressing a kiss to his temple as they left.
“Th’nks dad.” Tim mummer, he can hear sirens in the distance.
“The GCPD will be here soon.” Dick softly explains. “You’re going to need to go with them for a bit.”
Panic wells up. “Why?”
“You need to go to a hospital.” Dick explains. “The kidnapping was reported, and you're Tim not Robin. I can’t just take you home. I’ll be with you as soon as I can, okay sweetheart. I promise I’m going to take you home the minute I’m allowed. But I can’t do that as Batman.”
“Kay.” Tim nods. “Love you.”
“I love you too baby bird.” Dick responds.
Time goes weird again, and he’s suddenly being passed off to someone else.
The person speaks, voice barely above a whisper “I’ll stay with him, go.”
He barely hears Dick’s response as his consciousness fades out. “Thanks Gordon.”