I hope you enjoy the surprise POV. It was fun to write. Added a little distance, too.
Trigger Warning: Even more description of torture, this much more detailed, though still rather factual since it's being discussed in dialogue rather than described in the text. There will be another chapter summary in the end notes if you prefer to read that.
Harvey Bullock knew two things for certain.
Number One: Jay Dodson was not just a private bodyguard. There was something going on there. He was a friend of the family, or a friend of Tim's. Maybe through school or the Neon Knights or something. Not quite in the inner circle, not with the way he kept avoiding Bruce Wayne's eyes, but that guy cared way too much to be just a hired gun. After Tim's breakdown, he was goddamn shaking.
Not that Harvey was going to do anything about it. Tim obviously trusted this Jay guy, whoever he was, so that was good enough. Maybe he was the one who had gotten Bruce to hire him or something. Because yeah, it was also damn clear that Bruce Wayne would do anything for Timothy Drake-Wayne. Anything at all.
Which led to Number Two of the things Harvey Bullock was certain about: He would fight anyone who said that Bruce Wayne didn't love the kids he adopted, or that they didn't love him back. This habit of collecting orphans that Bruce had was not about publicity, or image, or even just the kind of charity that a lot of rich people indulged in when they ran out of other things to spend money on. That was clear in the way Bruce, Dick, and Tim interacted, even before Tim broke down and the others forced a way for Bruce to sit on the bed with him and hold him in his arms.
Damn the gossip rags for speculating anything else. Bruce Wayne loved his kids. Period. Full stop.
Which just made it all the harder for Harvey to do his job, really. To stand here and make this shell-shocked young man recount, blow for blow, all of the sins that had been committed against him. Gotham was a crappy city, the worst, and Harvey was used to his job being hard. But this was another level of hell, and he would be happy as a pig in shit when it was over.
He just wanted to go home and pet his cats.
Instead, he opened his mouth and said the thing they all knew, but didn't want to say. "We need to talk about what happened to your hands."
Tim leaned back against his father's chest, his head sheltered in the dip between Bruce's arm and side. His face was flushed under the bruises and cuts, streaked with drying tears, and absolutely miserable. He nodded, swallowing hard.
"Right." Harvey glanced at his notes, mostly as an excuse to stop looking at the poor kid's face for a split second. "So did that happen...before or after all of the other stuff?"
"It's...a big blur, mostly," Tim murmured, barely loud enough for the camera's mic to pick up. His voice was rough and cracked. Josie shifted behind the camera and fiddled with some settings, probably to make it easier to hear him.
"Any guesses?" Harvey asked. The timeline wasn't crucial, but the more details the better. This case had to be airtight. Had to be.
"Toward the...toward the end. They were getting frustrated."
"So what happened? Who was involved?"
Harvey knew he was asking a few too many questions, but the kid obviously needed the guidance. He couldn't just leave him hanging out there, struggling to put together the pieces on his own. Tim had done an amazing job so far, all things considered. He'd been very factual, very detailed. But it was no surprise that this last part, the worst part, was the hardest for him to express.
Tim looked away, a thousand-yard stare into nothing that was frankly a little eerie on a face so young. Bruce's arm tightened around his abdomen, under the cracked ribs, his other hand still buried in Tim's hair. "Th...they let me down from the chains. I thought...I hoped maybe I was getting a break. But they tied me to a chair next to a table. Same table they'd used for the car battery, but that wasn't there anymore. It was just the chair and the table. I didn't know what was going on."
He pulled in a breath, wincing when it dragged against his strained throat, his aching lungs. "Up till then, M...McDaniels had m-mostly just been in the background, watching. He... He'd tell them what to do, egg them on. But he left the dirty work to, to his men. But for this part, I guess... Like I said, they were frustrated. He was angry. So he d-decided to get involved. Personally."
He swallowed again, this throat clicking. Bruce bent his head over his, nose buried in his dark hair, and murmured something close to his ear. Tim nodded absently, his gaze still far away.
"So I was tied to the chair, next to this table, and McDaniels was s-standing there. With a hammer. And one of the other guys, I think it was the one called Sam, grabbed my wrist and pulled it out, pressed my hand to the table, palm down. There were two other guys holding my shoulders, one on each arm, even though I was already tied down. I tried to keep my hand in a fist, but Sam grabbed my fingers and forced them apart, so they were flat on the table. And..."
His breathing quickened. Dick, sitting in the chair next to him, stifled a sob.
"McDaniels raised the hammer. High. He asked a question. I don't remember what it was. But I didn't answer. So he... He brought the hammer down, right in the middle of my hand.
"It hurt. I screamed."
The last words were whispered, faint and barely there. Harvey had to lean closer to hear them. He wasn't sure the camera would be able to pick them up. He and Josie might have to fill in some gaps in the transcript later.
The next words out of Harvey's mouth might have been the worst he'd ever uttered. "I'm sorry, Tim, but could you please speak up?"
Tim blinked, eyelids fluttering, and seemed to come back to himself. He looked at Harvey, then at the camera. And he nodded. Brave, ruined kid. He nodded.
"It hurt." This time the words were extremely clear. They rang in the room like a fucking bell. "I screamed."
Harvey nodded and rocked back on his heels. He didn't miss Jay Dodson glaring at him like he was something black and stinking picked up on his shoe. He didn't blame the guy one tiny bit.
But the job, you know. He had to do his job.
"Then what?"
Tim blinked again. He seemed vaguely offended by the question, as if Harvey should have been faster to pick up what he was putting down. "Then it kept happening. He asked questions. I didn't answer. He hit my hand with the hammer. When he ran out of places to hit on that hand, they switched to the other one."
Harvey nodded. "Got it." The medical report had said that Tim's right hand was broken in nineteen places. The left hand was broken in fifteen. Damn near didn't make a difference.
He made a note, then looked back at Tim. "So just to clarify, then. McDaniels himself wasn't directly involved in the other stuff. The beating, whipping, burning, none of that. But he held the hammer himself. The whole time."
Tim nodded. His eyes welled with tears, then flowed over. "Yeah. He did. And I watched the whole time. I couldn't look away." Bruce pressed him somehow even closer, tucking Tim's head against his. Tim blinked, but continued to stare at Harvey.
So that was thirty-four separate counts of battery that they could charge to Gary McDaniels. At least. Harvey made another note.
He sighed and swiped a hand over his forehead. Almost done. He hoped. "Is there anything else that was physically done to you?"
Tim took a breath, then another. "I think I covered it all."
Harvey spread his hands. "Take your time. Think about it. There's no hurry."
So Tim did. He sat there, wrapped up in his father's arms, and thought hard about everything he'd gone through in the last two days, making sure he hadn't left anything out. Harvey could practically see the gears turning, the boxes ticking off in that brilliant young brain. Tim was exhausted and agonized and at the end of his rope, but he was still Timothy Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and it fucking showed.
Number Three of things Harvey Bullock was now certain of: Tim Wayne had not been made CEO of his father's company out of mere nepotism. He fucking deserved that position, and he was probably doing a goddamn amazing job at it. The stock price was going to drop without him at the helm, but Harvey wasn't gonna sell. Not a cent. He was going to hold on and hope that Tim overcame all of this and came back.
It honestly seemed like he could.
After a suitable period of mulling it over, Tim met Harvey's eyes and nodded, firm and resolute, like the goddamn leader of industry that he was. "That's everything. Not...every single individual strike. I couldn't account for those if I tried. But the broad strokes, yeah."
Harvey mustered a smile. "Okay. Good job, Tim. If you change your mind, if you think of anything else, day or night, don't hesitate to call. Me, Josie, the precinct. Whatever. Call the commish, if you want. We'll leave you some business cards."
Tim smiled back, a little hazy but sweet. He was relaxing, leaning limply into his dad. Even Dick and Jay seemed relieved, shoulders slumping.
Goddamn broke Harvey's heart to have to put an end to that, even temporarily. He raised a hand. "Sorry, just a couple more questions."
Tim's eyes had been drooping, but now they opened wide again.
"Just...anything you might have overheard. Did it sound like they had plans to kill you? Did you fear for your life?"
Tim rolled his eyes slightly, like this should have been obvious. "Yes. Of course. If I had given them everything they wanted, they would have finished me off." He shuddered gently. "Eventually."
Harvey nodded and jotted down "conspiracy to murder."
"Right. Okay. And did any of...uh. Any of the blows against you, did they seem like they were intended to kill you?"
Tim licked his lips. "N-no. I don't think so. Kind of... Kind of hard to tell. But I'm pretty sure they wanted me to stay alive for a while." His breath was speeding up again.
"Right." Harvey nodded sympathetically and definitely didn't show any disappointment. Couldn't add "attempted murder" to the list. But hey, they sure did have a lot.
Tim's teeth chattered lightly. He was getting the shakes now, after the fact. Completely understandable, poor kid. Harvey started looking for a graceful exit.
"Are we done here?" Bruce Wayne asked. His voice was a low growl, his grip on his son even more tightly wound, more protective and possessive.
And there it was. The exit. Harvey nodded, relieved to be done. "Yeah." He gave the kid his best version of a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Tim. We'll get him."
Tim blinked. "What do you mean, g-get him? Are you talking about M-McDaniels?"
Harvey nodded. He looked down at the list of charges in his hand, feeling mostly satisfied. "Yeah. We have every cop in the city looking. With this many charges, we ought to damn well be able to hold him, this time."
Tim's breath stuttered. Harvey looked at him sharply and realized that he was starting to look shocky, face pale and skin clammy. "I, I thought..." The words stumbled out over numb lips. "I thought he w-was already in c-custody."
Oh no. Harvey's heart fell into his shoes. He stood there, frozen, and looked back at the kid he'd just thrown into a panic without even meaning to. "Ah. No, actually. I'm sorry for the bad news, Tim. Batman and Red Hood delivered a whole bunch of thugs into police hands from that warehouse. But McDaniels wasn't with them."
Tim blinked at him. "Oh," he whispered.
And then he passed out.
Chapter Summary: Harvey questions Tim about the torture he endured. Tim describes how McDaniels personally smashed his hands with a hammer while Tim watched, tied to a chair and held down by several men. Harvey also asks a few other questions to add as many charges as possible to the list against McDaniels. Then he tries to reassure Tim that they will catch McDaniels and be able to hold him "this time." Tim is shocked because he thought McDaniels was already in custody. Harvey regretfully tells him no, McDaniels was not in the group apprehended at the warehouse by Batman and Red Hood. Tim passes out from the shock.