Disclaimer – You recognise it, I don't own it.

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"Detectives," The butler greeted them as he opened the door, "How may we assist the GCPD today?"

"We need to talk to Mister Wayne and all the residents of the Manor. Including yourself. Immediately."

"It involves serious business then, Detectives, I would presume. May I enquire as to the urgency and the duration of these discussions? Young Master Damian is currently at school. If the discussion is urgent then I can collect him. If the discussion is overly long I will be late in collecting him from school."

"We have a police car collecting him as we speak. He should be arriving shortly."

"Very good, Sir, Ma'am. I shall inform Master Bruce that you are present. If you would follow me, I shall bring Master Bruce to the Green Drawing Room."

"Is Jason Todd currently in residence?" Montoya inquired.

"Yes, Detectives. I presume you wish for him to also be in attendance?"

"Absolutely. We said everyone and we meant it."

"Then I shall insure that he is awake and presentable, Detectives."

"We also need you to be there."

"I presumed so by your insistence as to everyone, Detectives. If you would wait here. We shall join you shortly."

The detectives looked around the room. It was clear to see why it was referred to as green, although the colour was broken up by pictures and a small bookcase.

"Quite a few books here. Wonder how often any of the spines get cracked?"

"Nice view as well," Montoya motioned out the large windows, towards the elegantly manicured grounds.

"Todd still asleep? Wonder why? What kept him up all night?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"Late night parties? Involving god only knows who and what. The Waynes generally manage to keep themselves out of the gossip rags; unless Wayne himself is out and about. But that doesn't mean they don't get up to things. All this money? You can't tell me they're completely on the straight and narrow."

"Detectives," A cherry voice greeted them from the doorway, "What brings you here today? Are you here selling tickets for the Benefits' Gala? Because I thought that wasn't for another six months."

"Mister Wayne, have a seat."

"Call me Brucie. All my friends do. Is Dickie alright? Has something happened to him?"

"Grayson is fine. Take a seat." Montoya attempted to reassure.

She had spotted the real fear behind the jovial smile. Despite Bruce Wayne's obvious lack of intelligence, he really did care for Grayson, that much was clear.

"Father, what is going on?" A young, but arrogant voice demanded from the doorway, "I was removed from school without prior warning. I am missing my art class."

"Have a seat, brat." The lower Gotham drawl was a jarring contrast to the lightly accented upper class tones of the previous speaker, "They ain't gonna talk until we're all seated. Might as well get this over with."

"Indeed, Master Jason. May I suggest you take your own advice?" The butler had returned, "Master Damian, I am sure that the detectives would not have interrupted your education for anything less than a true situation."

"If you would also be seated," Montoya motioned, "We would prefer it."

The butler seated himself quietly.

"This 'bout Dickie-bird?" Jason pressed, "He okay?"

"Grayson cannot be harmed." Damian's voice was tight, clearly trying to hide fear.

"He is fine." Montoya replied, "Officer Grayson is back at the precinct. We came to talk to you about Timothy Drake-Wayne."

"Drake?" Damian frowned, "Why what has he done?"

"When was the last time any of you spoke to him?"

"I don't remember." Jason drawled, "Cut to the chase, detectives. What's the matter? Why are ya asking about him?"

"There's no easy way of saying this," Allen took a deep breath, "We have evidence that indicates Mister Drake-Wayne has been kidnapped."

"What?" Every single bit of tomfoolery was gone from Brucie's voice and body language, "Who? When? Where is he?"

"Currently we don't know." Montoya replied calmly, "We are still investigating."

"Who has my son?" Brucie had completely changed.

Montoya and Allen both blinked at the change. The multi-millionaire was radiating danger and threat. For all his foppish ways, it seemed Bruce Wayne really cared about his boys.

"We don't know." Allen stated, "We're working on it. At the moment we're trying to establish a time-line. Find out when he was taken."

"You don't even know that?" Damian sounded outraged.

"Not yet." Montoya shrugged, "Currently all we have is evidence of kidnapping."

"No, ya don't." Jason frowned, "Because if that was all ya had, you would at least know when it happened. You have evidence of something else. Either his death, which I doubt, because ya would have led with that. Murder's easier to explain than kidnapping… How much blood?"

"Are you sure you wish to discuss this with the youngster in the room?" Allen queried.

"I have encountered worse." Damian rebutted, "I have seen death before. In several incarnations."

"He can handle it." Jason agreed.

"Detectives," Bruce returned to the heart of the matter, "What has happened to my son?"

"Evidence indicates that he may have been tortured." Allen confessed, "At present all we have is DNA evidence."

"Blood." Jason was blunt, "How much?"

"Enough that it is likely that Mister Drake-Wayne will be very weak at present. And in need of medical care in the near future." Allen elaborated.

"And ya want to know if one of us did it." Jason continued, "I mean, we're pretty good suspects. I'm known for not liking him. Damian, pretty much the same. Bruce would never hurt Timmy. And Alfred… He'd protect this family with every last breath in his body. And that goes for Timmy too. Ya're not just establishing the timeline. Ya're investigating us to see if we could be behind it. Whether it was our hands or our money bankrolling it."

"You believe we would consider that a possibility?" Montoya pressed.

"Absolutely." Jason agreed, "I don't trust cops. And I know that the first suspect in something like this is the family. Particularly when we didn't report him missing. And I last heard from Timmy about a month and a half ago."

"Who initiated contact?"

"I did. It's always that way. I'm always the one that starts it. Even if I don't realize that I started it. If I'm in trouble. If I need help… He'll come."

"What do you mean?"

"I'd rather not discuss it." Jason countered.

"I'm afraid that is no longer an option." Allen fired back.

"In which case, I'd rather talk in private." Jason announced.

"That's acceptable." Montoya agreed, "We were intending on it any way. We'll start with you. Then the butler, Brucie and finally Damian."

"His name is Alfred." Jason got to his feet, "Follow me. Alf, I'll take 'em to the library. Seems as good a place as any… Don't reckon I'll need it, but might be worth putting the lawyers on standby."

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"I understand that you and Mister Drake do not get along." Allen opened the interrogation.

"So I'm a suspect." Todd shrugged, "I get it. I do. But I wouldn't do that to Tiny Tim."

"Tiny Tim?"

"I'm trying not to physically attack him anymore. I did in the past. I'll admit that. But I'm getting better. I got help. Timmy got me help. Help I was willing to take, 'cause Timmy found the right way to help me. I owe him a lot."

"We have heard rather different stories."

"You would. We don't publicize it. Timmy understands why I was so angry with him. It wasn't really his fault. But I blamed him. It was easier to be angry at him than anyone else."

"Why?"

"Long complicated story, and not important right now. What is important is that Timmy is missing. And ya don't know where he is. And I don't know where he is."

"Do you know anyone who would want to hurt him?"

"No… Well, the brat might, but this isn't his style. He wouldn't torture Timmy and he wouldn't delegate. There might be people in business who would have an issue with Timmy. He's CEO of one of the biggest companies in the world. For some people that's enough."

"Why didn't know you notice he was missing?"

"I don't interact with him on a regular basis. Sometimes I'll go weeks 'tween seeing him."

"And the rest of them?"

"Part of me thinks that is my fault."

"Why?"

"I didn't like him. I made it very clear. But I was on the outs with all of the family. Everyone knew it. Bruce and Dick have worked so hard to bring me back into the fold. And I fought them most of the way…"

"Why?"

"Street kid. I fought them the first time too. Only now I'm older and wiser and more stubborn and more wary. Trust me, the things I saw while I was presumed dead… It makes Gotham look tame. Anyway, I was fighting them. And they were focused on me. And on Damian, 'cause he hasn't had the best upbringing."

"Really?"

"Let's just say his mother is a bitch. She always planned on him. Bruce's willing participation was not something she would have deemed a necessary part of Damian's conception."

"You mean she…"

"No-one's ever said. But I know the woman. She's ruthless. She wanted Damian to be born. And she wanted him to be perfect. Therefore, he had to be Bruce's. And she always gets what she wants."

The two detectives exchanged a glance; this had been a more intriguing conversation than they had been expecting.

"Did you know that Drake was missing?"

"Personally, I haven't interacted with him for nearly six months. I knew his friends didn't know where he was. I knew they were looking for him. They got desperate enough that they phoned me. And trust me, that means they were pretty desperate. That was just over a week ago."

"And what did you do?"

"Nothing. I didn't think there was a problem. Not the first time he's taken off on his own. I figured he'd turn up when he was ready. Besides I didn't want ta tell Bruce and the others."

"Why not?"

"Because that was right at the point I was starting to realize that they really did want me back. That they actually cared. That I hadn't been replaced. And I knew that if they knew Timmy was missing… They'd focus more on him than on me… And I didn't want to be second place ta Timmy again. So I kept my mouth shut… And now I have ta live with that. If I had had the slightest, and I do mean the slightest, inkling that Timmy was actually in trouble… That he was being hurt… I would have said something. I would have done something. I would have gotten him outta there. No matter what the cost."

"How long have you known?"

"Like I said, a week? Maybe two? Certainly no longer. Give me a moment, I'll get you an exact time frame."

He started scrolling through his phone.

"Nine days." Jason was firm, "They called me nine days ago. I didn't think anything of it. They've never contacted me before, but as I said…"

"You didn't consider it anything to worry about."

"A young boy, alone in the world… And you didn't consider it anything to worry about?"

"Timmy's gone to Afghanistan on his own before. And Europe before he finished Freshman year. There's no need to worry about it… At least there never has been before."

"You weren't worried, because nothing had ever happened before?"

"I wasn't worried, because Tiny Tim's been walking the streets of Gotham since he was a tot. I reckoned nowhere was more dangerous than he'd already been. I thought he could handle himself."

"Is there anything else you think we should know?"

"Nothing I can think of. Or at least that I'd be willing to tell ya. I presume ya've checked his apartment."

"You know where he lives?"

"Of course," Jason shrugged, "Ya don't?"

"So far we haven't found any records for his accommodation."

"Look, finish up with the others and I'll take ya there."

"You could just tell us the address."

"He's got a pretty tight security system on the place. I know my way through it, but I couldn't explain it."

"Why would you know how to get through his security? You said you weren't close. And that you actively tried to keep away from him. And actively kept others from interacting with him."

"No. Not actively. More passively. I just didn't tell anyone about things I knew. And yeah, we're not close. But right now, I wager I'm closer ta 'im than Dick or Brucie. 'Sides I like ta know where people are. I like ta know if there are places where I can crash if I need ta. Timmy would never deny me a place on his couch. Provided that I didn't try ta kill 'im. I'll get ya in. But I won't leave it open for the future. I won't do that ta 'im. I won't make his safe space dangerous."

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Please Review.

I write stories because I can't draw. I have all these images in my head that I cannot reproduce. So I try and describe them with words. If anyone else would like to try to translate what I have written into what they think I saw in my head, they have my permission. I only ask that I be notified of it, so that I may look and go "OOoooh!".

Many thanks to my reviewers:

Rehabilitated Sith – Sorry, that's going to take a while to be answered. Hope you enjoy this in the meantime.

Silverdragonstar – Hope this is living up to your expectations.

APercival – Thanks for the favourite. And I'm pleased you see potential for this. I hope I live up to the potential.

Sgtwist – I hope the start of the interrogations is whetting your appetite for more… Dick's still firmly in the denial stage so the lack of tears isn't too surprising.

Inthenightguest – Thanks, I'm glad you are enjoying this. If you like Tim fics have you found "Wintersnight" over on AO3? They do some wonderful Tim fics.