Disclaimer: They aren't mine. Who would have thought patents were so expensive? Oh well. When I'm a billionaire like Wayne then I'll owe them. Till then, I'm just playing around folks. There is also a copyright on Keds that I mention once a bit later. And finally, a scene, which I won't give away now, is taken from a book/movie. Some may recognize it, others may not. After that chapter is posted, I'll put up the proper disclaimer.
Rating: PG for violence and some language.
Timeline: This story is kinda in its own little world. It takes place right after Jack finds out that his son has been spending his free time in spandex. Identity Crisis has not occurred (for one obvious reason) so this can easily be considered AU.
Author's Notes: This story is going to be posted in two parts with chapters in each part. Not only did this story not start out as two parts, it actually began out of a single scene I couldn't get out of my head and grew from there. I separated it into two parts because I realized, the closer I get to finishing a story, the less detail there is. I didn't want that to happen so I considered this to be two different tales that intertwine. I hope you enjoy the story; it's been the most involved Robin piece I've ever done and has taken a lot of work that, I hope, has been worth it.
This story is finished, although I'm editing and revising it as I go. I'm about 20 pages into it so decided it was safe to post. I'm hoping to have a fairly regular posting schedule of about every 2-3 days, but with the holidays I don't want to promise anything. Yet, have no fear; you will get updates pretty regularly.
Also, feedback is wonderful and greatly appreciated. Now, without further ado, I bring you:
MASQUERADE
Masquerade: a) A costume party at which masks are worn b) A disguise or false outward show; a pretense c) An involved scheme; a charade.
Part One: Harder to Breathe
"Is there anyone out there? Cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe."
-Maroon 5
Chapter One:
It actually started well before the bad money troubles. Jack always enjoyed the thrill of having his money on the line, but, in reality, whatever was on the line he could afford. The real problem increased when the money was gone and they moved back to Gotham. Jack wasn't certain why he'd turned towards gambling as a means to help his family. When he'd gambled before he'd rarely paid attention to the games or races, but rather just enjoyed the company and the camaraderie that was shared between fellow gamblers. In Gotham, though, the gambling was a win or lose situation. Jack hoped that with a few choice games and victories, his family's troubles would be over. He also needed to feel like he was doing something to help out instead of just sitting by and watching his life fall apart. So, gambling was his solution.
It also became his curse.
All too soon, things had gone wrong. One bad race cost him and in order to fix that, he, of course, had to continue the vicious cycle. One bad experience, quickly turned into four, and before he knew it, he owed his bookie twenty-five thousand dollars. That had been just a little over a week ago, and last night everything had utterly collapsed.
The Knights were a shoe-in to win. They had the ability, the experience, and the home advantage. But, they lost and Jack saw his debt increase to over one hundred thousand dollars. He may have been able to find a way to pay the twenty-five thousand back, but never could he afford over a hundred grand. He'd screwed up big time. And now Mike Gardenee, his bookie and a man Jack knew not to mess around with, wanted his money tonight. Jack had no money and had to go to his meeting with nothing of value to offer Gardenee.
Little did Jack know, he was going to pay with something more valuable than the money he owed.
...
Tim Drake wasn't use to being normal. His childhood had not been hard, but certainly not average. His parents constantly globe-trotted leaving him alone with servants. Then his mother had been killed and his father placed in a coma. Yet, before that, Tim had figured out one of, if not the greatest mysteries ever. Who Batman was. After that, well, whatever normalcy Tim had faked was forever gone. Tim become the three squire to Batman; The Robin. Well, to him it was The Robin in capital letters, for everyone else it was more ... robin. Regardless, the teenager had become one of Gotham's nighttime protectors. Since then, his life had been on one large cycle downwards that ended with Robin being taken away from him by his father.
After losing the costume, Tim had become normal. Or, at least, that was what he'd told himself everyday he woke up and got ready for school after a full night's sleep. The problem was he certainly didn't feel normal. There had always been too many thoughts running around his head, too many secrets, and too many times that Tim had to just leave his pseudo-normal life at the drop of a hat. Things like that had never made for a normal existence and attempting to live like that now was hard. And awkward.
The former Boy Wonder was stuck in a routine of waking up, going to school, coming home, eating dinner, doing work and actually sleeping. It was what he, during the hardest times of being Robin, longed for, but now that he had it, it was the last thing he wanted. He felt trapped in a world that he never belonged to and never would. He knew it was slowly driving him insane and he found himself despondent about everything. For Tim, his existence had become a sort of blur of worthless hours and days.
Today was no different. He'd eaten breakfast quietly with his father and Dana. Not a word was said as always. He headed to school, did classes that he use to be able to pass without even attending most of the time, then came home. His father was waiting in the kitchen, but he didn't say anything. Jack never seemed to say a word to his son. Tim walked pass silently and sat in the living room. When he'd first stopped his nightly activities, Tim use to watch the news, but all too quickly, he found how painful it was to listen to the horrible things that had occurred in Gotham. Now, the teenager just sat and did homework listlessly. It was the normal existence of a teenage boy.
And he hated it.
Tim would never, however, go back on what he promised to his father. For a majority of his young life, he had made promises and tried his damnest to keep to them. In the long run, this was simply another promise that he had to keep and, he knew, he owed it to his father. So, he would bear the mundane existence for as long as was necessary, even if that meant forever.
...
When Jack came downstairs, he found his son hunched over some school textbook. He watched with interest as Tim half-heartedly wrote answers in a notebook. Every-so-often, the young man would sigh with boredom and continue writing.
Jack knew his son was bored with more than just homework. For the past month, he watched as Tim went from a secretive although active teenager to a listless body. The older man never considered that when he told Tim he could no longer be Robin how much of the crime fighter persona had been ingrained into his son's psyche. With Robin removed from Tim's life, it was as if the young man had lost his drive. Jack was not certain what he could do. He never wanted his son to dress up in that suit again. More than that, he never wanted Tim to go near Bruce Wayne again. That man was one step away from crazy and Jack would not have his son fall back into cahoots with him.
Jack knew keeping his son from being Robin was the best thing that could happen to him.
To them.
Soon Tim would realize how much better his life was without nightly activities. With that self-assuring thought, Jack moved into the kitchen.
Tim, who had been working on calculus homework, knew that his father was watching him. He briefly wondered what was going though his dad's head, but then quickly realized that he didn't care. Lately, Tim cared a lot less about what his father thought because all that mattered was that he didn't think Tim should be Robin. With a mental sigh, the young man looked up from his work and at his father.
The two Drakes stared at each other without a word passing between them. They had been doing a lot of that lately. Before "The Incident," father and son hadn't talked often, but they certainly had been able to hold a conversation. Now, however, the simplicity of talking to each other escaped both of them. Tim wanted to know when he could be Robin again and Jack wanted to pretend the whole ugly incident never occurred. Therefore, neither knew what to say, so they said nothing at all.
In the end, Jack broke the eye contact first, Tim, after all, learned how to stare from the best of them, and move towards the coffee Dana had prepared. Tim watched his father for a moment before looking back to his work. Jack got his coffee and spared one more look at his son. With a sad shake of his head, the older man left.
...
It never ceased to amaze Jack that no matter where in Gotham someone went it always smelled like a sewer. Somehow, he thought, it was fitting. The town was riddled with crime and dirt and why should the environment be any different?
On top of that, Jack had to meet Gardenee and found the aroma of stench appropriate. Jack had seen enough gangster and mob movies to know that he was walking into a trap. Still, there was nothing he could do other than go. At least, he hoped, whatever happened would happen quickly.
For over an hour, Jack stood in the soft lamplight of the dock with no sign of Gardenee. Over and over again, his mind raced through all the possible things that could happen once Mike got to him. It had not been a pleasant hour to say the least. Finally, just as his thoughts turned even more gruesome, he saw a black Buick approaching. Jack felt his pulse increase as the car stopped and he watched a tall man wearing a dark purple suit exit. Mike Gardenee walked to Jack.
"Where's the money?" He asked as his lit a cigarette.
Jack swallowed convulsively and spared a glance at Gardenee's two flanking bodyguards. "I...uh...I don't have it."
Mike took another drag of his cigarette before throwing it to the ground. The men all stood in silence until Gardenee leaned over to one of his bodyguards. Jack watched the two discuss something that he couldn't hear and, deep inside, he probably didn't want to know what they were saying.
I should have told Dana that I love her and Tim that I'm sorry, Jack thought as he prepared himself to die. This wouldn't be the first time he faced death and he would do so as strongly as possible.
Suddenly, Gardenee turned back to Jack. "I am disappointed to hear you can't pay. We'll get our money from you tomorrow."
The man then turned and walked towards the car with his bodyguards in tow. Jack took a step towards them and called out:
"But I don't have anything to give you!"
Mike stopped, but did not turn around. "There is always something you can give me. There is always something you can lose."
And with that the men were gone and Jack was left with those foreboding words echoing in his head.
...
It was late when Jack returned and he was surprised to find his son watching television in the dark. The glow from the screen made Tim look much younger than his sixteen years and, for a moment, Jack was content to believe his son was younger and things were as easy as they had been then. But, all too quickly, the moment passed and Jack was very aware of how old his son really was. Tim's attention was drawn to the show he was watching and the older man realized that his son hadn't look up when he entered. Stepping closer, Jack moved to see what grabbed the teenager's attention so much.
On the television screen was an old warehouse lit up by a helicopter spotlight. On the bottom of the screen was a caption that read:
"Mad Hatter Escapes. Holding Two Hostages."
Jack could see his son's eyes darting back and forth across the screen as if looking for something.
No, Jack realized. For someone.
"Go to bed, Timothy." Jack said and watched his son jump slightly. The young man quickly changed the channel and looked embarrassingly up at his father as if he had been caught with his hand in a cookie jar.
"Um, sorry." Tim muttered not entirely sure why. He then stood and left the living room without a word.
"Good night." Jack called after his son, but Tim didn't response and Jack heard the teenager's door shut.
Jack looked back at the blank television and sighed deeply. As hard as it was to admit, his son wasn't the only one who kept secrets. ... TBC…