Author's Note:
This chapter's going up a little early because I will be in New York starting tomorrow and I will very likely not have the time / net connection required to get it up on the usual day! As always, thank you so much for reading! I deeply appreciate all of you and every single one of your reviews / comments makes me squee inside like a little kid discovering their very first ship! 3
Chapter Twenty Six: Rule #26 – Do Your Homework
By the time Batman gets around to interrogating him personally, Tim is ready for it.
He's had almost a week to prepare for the ordeal, after all, so it would be utterly ridiculous for him to have been anything but perfectly prepped and ready.
Tim even manages to be the one controlling the circumstances of the encounter – well, more or less. He'd thought Batman might just break into Drake Manor at some point to make the discussion happen, Batman was certainly easily capable of it, but if he was going to do that, Tim thinks he probably would've done it by now.
So, operating on that understanding, Tim takes his time to truly rehearse – silently, of course, and mindful of the bugs and the keystroke logger that Batman has likely installed, but still very thoroughly. He wants to ensure that he will have a ready answer set for any question the Bat might consider asking him and by Thursday evening he knows he's fully prepared.
When he goes out to Robbinsville with his camera, it's the first time since his disastrous attempt to contact Spoiler that he's left his house any time after dusk. He's acutely aware of that fact, and constantly reminded of it with how there's an anxious thrum of energy in his muscles as he gets across Kane Memorial and starts pedaling deeper into Robbinsville – a thrum that would be distinctly irksome for throwing off his camera skills, messing with both the aim and focus of his shots, if snapping photos were Tim's actual goal in heading out that night.
Since his goal is to talk to Batman, a few dozen terrible pictures seems a reasonable sacrifice. Besides, since he's about to try to con the Bat, showing a few authentic nerves during the encounter can only be beneficial towards establishing his credibility.
He doesn't have to wait very long.
Tim sets up to camp out and wait on the edge of a Robbinsville mid-rise, looking over a low-roofed yard of self-storage units that gets routinely checked by the Bats for any noteworthy shifts in several rather benine smuggling operations. He's right on the edge of Gotham's super city, just short of where the skyscraper canyons create an environment where using grapple guns and wires to swing building to building makes actual sense, so he'll have a good view of the Bats as they fly through their patrols – in addition to the up-close view he'll get of them when they arrive to investigate the storage yard.
It's a good, plausible set up for a fan with just a little too much insight.
Just a little, though.
Tim won't be able to convince Batman that he doesn't know anything, not when this is the aftermath of the second time he's been kidnapped because he got too close to things.
But he should be able to swing things so that Batman believes that what he knows about the Bats is entirely related to their casework, rather than their identities.
He's going to make it clear he's a different kind of fan – one that doesn't care who his heroes are out of costume, and instead is entirely focused on trying to help them how he can.
Tim is going over his plan for the seventeenth iteration of 'one last time' when Batman appears on the rooftop with him – simply materializing out of the shadows in what is probably an attempt to avoid spoking him.
For a second, Tim is starstruck.
His hands move without his conscious consent and he snaps a picture without even checking the focus or lighting or anything – it's just an awed, gape-mouthed point and shoot affair that makes Batman's grimly emotionless expression twitch almost imperceptiably towards a deeply disapproving frown.
Tim almost snaps another one, so he can study the minute changes – so he can sit down and examine them in good lighting. Decides against it in time to stop his trigger finger.
The initial conversation is a lot like the last post-kidnapping confrontation Tim had with him – preconsidered questions and carefully rehearsed answers. Tim was investigating a case because he wanted to help his heroes, he got too close and got caught, he knows better now – won't get so involved – but he still wants to see his heroes in action.
Officially, he's out tonight because he wants to prove to himself that he's not too scared to go outside after dark any more.
Batman frowns again at that.
"You shouldn't be out after dark regardless, especially not alone," the Bat points out.
Tim cedes that point, wary of letting on to how he's been doing this for years already and has never gotten caught before – had never before gotten so overly involved that he was close enough to make any kind of real mistake that could land him in noticeable trouble.
Until recently, at least.
But Tim is backing off…
He's going to do better – much better – at staying uninvolved… like he used to… Even if he has enjoyed Jason's company, and Dick's, and Barbara's… it's better for everyone if he backs off, so he's going to ensure that he's at least three steps back from everything from now on.
It'll be fine.
And it seems to work too, because Batman only comes at the inquiry of Tim knowing the Bats and getting overly involved to help them from one other angle before he moves on to what Tim knew ahead of time would be the trickiest part of this conversation.
Jason.
Not a sinlge media outlet had caught on to the kidnapping of a Wayne ward, and Bruce had worked very hard to keep it that way. No one had even caught on to there being a kidnapping at all, because everyone involved had a pile of their own secrets to protect – secrets that would be utterly exposed if any whisper of this scandalous scenario hit the press.
However, Tim knows Jason, personally.
They're close enough for Batman to know that Tim would never have mistaken the identity of who it was that had come to save him – who had ended up swaping himself into Tim's place, disregarding his own safety in favor of providing for Tim's.
They are not, however, close enough to make Jason's reckless drive to save Tim seem reasonable under any kind of usual circumstances. It had been the middle of the night, it had been a terribly dangerous situation, and it had been clear across town from where a civilian Jason should have been getting a good night's rest in Wayne Manor.
Without the filter of Robin, Jason's actions make almost zero sense.
"Jason Wayne left his home abruptly in the middle of the night, stole a motorcycle, and made his way to the other side of the city with the clear intent to extract you from Obscura by any means necessary. Why?"
Tim take a moment to savor the fact that underneath the Bat's cowl, Bruce had referred to Jason as being a Wayne without any kind of qualifier, and had so easily referenced Wayne Manor as Jason's home… He keeps his experession mostly blank, of course, allowing it to show only a little bit of the bashful giddiness he feels at seeing concrete evidence of the warm familial regard Bruce held for Jason.
"I… I don't kn– I don't… He… He, um, called me…" Tim starts, breaking off awkwardly.
Part of it is real, awe and bafflement that is genuinely reflective of Tim's own, honest feelings – which is why this is the trickiest part of the conversation.
Selina's taught him how to spin a story, how to play the audience.
Making something outlandish seem reasonable is perfectly possible if you give the audience you're catering to exactly what they're expecting... and if you inhabit the Truth of the story, if you make the lie be more real than the reality... then Truth is pretty flexible.
Even with Jason being Robin, Tim is genuinely still kind of awed that Jason came for him – especially in the way that he had, by throwing himself into such danger like he had…
It's a bit too real, too close to real Truth to make the story's truth easy to wear as a mask. Tim has to be very careful to keep strictly to the story he practiced in his head – careful to keep the honest Truth from leaking through.
"I'd gone out to meet Spoiler," Tim begins, starting over from a more manageable place in the story to gain ground with, "But she wasn't where we usually meet up, so I left my stuff and went out to see if I could just find her. I thought it might be fun to surprise her… but… I, um, I stumbled into a warehouse where that new drug was being kept… and those guys… grabbed me."
Batman waits silently for Tim to continue, they were both very aware that his looming presence alone was more than enough pressure to encourage full disclosure.
"Jason called me. After. He called me after—after I'd been grabbed," Tim goes on, "I'd left my phone with my stuff at the donut shop and Spoiler picked up. My call log shows they talked for about fifteen minutes… I don't know what they said, but I think Spoiler saw me get grabbed. I think she told Jason to stay home, but… he didn't listen. I don't know how he found me, or why he did what he did…but he saved me… which is why I went to Catwoman – I felt like I had to return the favor somehow, but I couldn't do anything like what Jason did…"
Tim had been hoping to get the interrogation to move on to how he knew Catwoman's address, or how he'd hacked the Batmobile, but he'd known it was an unlikely option – Batman couldn't be so easily led. He still had to try, though.
"You must know some reason why Jason Wayne would risk his own life so readily to save yours," Batman presses, dark tone betraying the fact that there was emotion behind the façade.
Tim can't tell what emotion, but he can tell it's definitely there.
The pleasure he has flooding in at noticing that almost manages to keep him from misconstruing Batman's words into a barb at how he doesn't measure up – almost, but not quite. He knows he's misconstruing them too – knows that Batman doesn't mean he's not really worth Jason's time, that Jason has no real reason to be so invested in his well being that he'd so easily sacrifice his own safety – but he still can't help but blanch at the swirl of guilt that hits his gut as the words settle into his brain.
Fortunately, the guilt is not an emotion that will break the façade of Tim's story.
So, what shows on his face only helps make his point convincing.
"I… I don't… know," Tim forces out, as clearly as he can. "He's… Jason… He's… He's my—my friend. And he said that a kid from Crime Alley grows up knowing how to make sure they look after the people they decide to call their own."
It's true, too – entirely true.
True to the point that Tim is entirely certain that if Jason learned about any random kid in the city being kidnapped, he would probably dive in to save them with just as much reckless determination as he had demonstrated in saving Tim.
It's almost enough to make Batman cede the point.
"Rwen Tolovi referred to Jason Wayne as 'Robin'. Why?"
Tim blinks.
It's a staged reaction, but one he's practiced over the course of years while infiltrating hundreds of staff-only and restricted access areas – one he knows has long been perfected into an utterly guiless innocence that can get him out of just about anything.
He blinks, projects that dull confusion of a kid in the midst of a misunderstanding and then, with a sweet and eager edge of hope, Tim asks, "He did?"
The reaction clearly throws Batman.
He doesn't make a comment – as that would cement the vague notion of confusion that's hovering lightly around his intimidating figure – but he's definitely recalculating.
Tim frowns and makes a show of thinking over the events of that night – by actually thinking them over so that his eyes do the correct little flicker thing of an honest attempt to recall witnessed information.
Batman will know that Tim has a higher than average ability for total recall – not quite a fully eidetic memory, but one that's near enough to have gotten a note scribbled down in one of his medical files. Tim would look ridiculous if he claimed a total blank-out, even under stress.
"Oh… I guess, he did, didn't he? I can't believe I didn't catch that," Tim complains, letting his frown deepen. "I guess I though he was using it in general… like how most grown-ups use it… meaning every little kid who does something brave and wonderful… I never… but they're not from Gotham, so they wouldn't… They had to be using it as a name…"
With a bright-eyed interest – genuinely curious as to how Batman would handle the question – Tim looks up and asks, "Is Jason Robin?"
Batman betrays nothing.
Tim lets his interest flicker out. "No. That doesn't make any sense. Robin's older. And Jason has school in the mornings… so… But he'd make a good Robin…" Tim finishes, trailing off into a pleased little imagining about how perfect Jason must've seemed for the role – at how he had probably stuck his nose into places he shouldn't have and found the secret out, at how he'd made it his own after Bruce had caved and given him the role as an outlet for his aggression and his bone-deep need to help people. "He'd make a really good Robin."
"I thought you didn't care about who's beneath the masks," Batman states.
"I don't," Tim promises immediately. With a shrug he adds, "But that doesn't mean I'm not curious about it when someone drops a plausible potential name in my lap. I won't investigate it, I swear, but I'm not gonna pretend it's not interesting."
He's met with more silence from Batman.
Eventually, Tim begins to squirm, having nothing more to say and having to face Batman pressuring him to say more.
It's another long minute yet before Batman accepts the need to move on.
"If you do not believe Jason Wayne is Robin, then why did you go to Catwoman for help in rescuing him instead of Batman and Robin?"
"Batman and Robin were already there," Tim points out, frowning again. "Well, Batman… And Spoiler and Nightwing and Batgirl, too, I think. It was really confusing. And then I was already in the Batmobile and in the middle of the Diamond District, and Catwoman gave me that address specifically in case I needed help… I know you've worked with her before and I just thought… I thought you could use any help you could get."
Yet more silence from Batman meets Tim's answer.
The feel of it is different this time, though.
More evaluative, assessing him as a whole rather than simply dissecting his response.
This silence lasts longer, too.
Long enough for Tim to start physically squirming beneath the stern, impassive gaze as the swirl of discomfort inside him makes squirming internally feel like not enough – the need to try just running away rears up in him, a powerfully persuasive idea, regardless of his odds at making the getaway clean.
He's just about finished with his accidental calculations of his best possible route to push his odds of escape up over the 25% line when Batman comes to some sort of conclusion.
The wind changes just then, too – making Batman's cape billow out around him.
The sight almost makes Tim smile. Because Jason is totally right in supposing that if Batman's actually a metahuman, his main super power is the ability manipulate the drama of atmospheric cues. Jason had said it as a bitter joke, months ago – well before this stupid drug case with the Tolovis got started – but Tim keeps finding vague evidence that makes him want to wholly believe the outlandish claim.
Focus.
Batman has decided what to do about him – has decided whether he believes Tim's story at all and has determined a course of action to take regarding his continued existence.
"You should not be out here alone," Batman reiterates, something that surprises Tim.
From everything Jason has ever said, and everything Tim himself has ever witnessed, Batman is not prone to repeating himself for any reason.
"You have your pictures, you've gotten proof enough that we are real," Batman lays out with a calm authority, "It is an unnecessary risk and a distraction to us to have you out here."
"I know," Tim admits, aptly shamed in a manner that requires no acting to portray. "I'm sorry. I… I won't- I won't go out again. I just needed tonight. One more outing to prove to myself that I'm not too scared to keep being me."
"Fear is not a weakness," Batman tells him.
"It is if it controls you," Tim retorts with what he can admit is a petty little pout – constructed mostly of self admonishment.
"Are you afraid now?"
"No," Tim replies immediately, adding slowly, "But only because you're here. Before… Yeah, I'm afraid… I was afraid, setting out. I just… I had to face it."
Batman gives a slow nod – so minute and unhurried that Tim thinks Batman might not even know he's doing it. Bruce Wayne knows a thing or two about facing fears, Tim knows – he's looked into it, into every tiny detail of Bruce's life that was publically available due to the people's obsession with the lives of the wealthy and beautiful.
What he'd found had explained a little – more than expected, really – about Bruce's psychological connection to the Bat.
Bruce, who's still standing silently on a rooftop, waiting for Tim to explain more.
"I… I won't go out again, won't get involved," Tim says carefully, quietly enough to keep his voice from giving a betraying tremble. He doesn't want promise this – doesn't want to lie so blatantly to one of his heroes… but in some ways, in the important ways, it's not a lie.
Tim will be backing off.
He'll still be going out, still be taking pictures and helping however he can, but he'll be staying much further back – far enough to ensure that he doesn't get caught again.
Far enough back to ensure that not even the Bats know he's there.
And he's backing off from his idiotic attempt at building a relationship with them outside of their masks – attempting to make sure that they don't worry for him, that they don't expend any attention on him that would be better spent elsewhere.
He's already proving mildly successful.
After that one conversation with Barbara, Tim hasn't been ambushed by them again – has been taking pains to isolate himself from them by sticking to places he knows they have no reason to be. He's been staying late at school, using that library for his homework instead of a public one, and he's been going straight home to Drake Manor afterwards – staying in his room and ignoring Dick Grayson's occasional requests to get him to open up.
He is being better.
He is.
Soon, they'll give up altogether and refocus back on the important things, like protecting each other, instead of trying to protect him.
It'll be okay.
Jason will get better, will recover completely.
Robin will be back out on the streets with Batman soon, and they will be able to carry on with Nightwing and Batgirl as if Tim had never stumbled awkwardly into their paths.
Tim's not sure how long it's been since he last spoke, promising not to go out again, but it's probably been a while since Batman breaks the silence.
"If you really want to help us, there are other ways – daylight ways," Batman suggests lightly – a gingerness to his tone that sounds strange coming from Batman.
"I know," Tim admits. "I'll stick to those from now on, I promise."
Batman gives a single, curt nod – this one clearly an intentional gesture, acceptance of Tim's promise and likely a warning that he will hold Tim to that promise.
"It's time for you to go home, Timothy," Batman informs him.
Tim gives a resigned, but hopeful sigh, and allows Batman to hoist him up like he's a little kid. Batman grapples down to street level, in a whoosh of air that's just as thrilling now as the first timTim had ever been exposed to the sensation, and then bundles Tim up in his cape before setting Tim in front on him on the beast of a black motorcycle he has waiting in the alley for just this purpose.
The ride home is too quick and too quiet, but Tim still feels moderately accomplished.
He gets himself to choke down a snack – food is important, even if the feeling of it weighing down his stomach makes him queasy enough to want to gag – and then gets to bed.
The next day is one he faces with a mild optimism and a resolute determination.
It's not for another week and a half that his plans go awry.
The wrench gets thrown into the works when Jason gets better.
When Tim hears the knocking on the second Saturday after the terrible night with the Tolovis, he assumes that it's Dick again – checking in, but keeping to a hands-off philosophy.
It's not.
Instead of Dick, it's Jason at his door.
And Jason is not the kind of guy that really takes no for an answer when checking up on his friends, especially when it's just one measely little locked door standing in his way.
Jason rings the bell every forty seconds or so for about five minutes.
Then he just picks the lock and breaks in.
Trudges noisily up to Tim's room.
Knocks again and then swings the bedroom door wide open as Tim sits curled up in his computer chair with a wide eyed panic at the fact that he can't actually do anything at all in order to avoid this interaction.
It had probably been inevitable from the get go.
Tim should've seen it coming.
Jason doesn't select his friends with abandon, and he certainly isn't one to just let things go without a fight if he senses that someone he's declared his own is attempting to pull back.
Standing in the doorway of Tim's bed room, Jason plants his feet a little over shoulder width apart, sets his hand on his hips, and glowers.
The silence stretches out awkwardly, long enough for the fact that Tim has pretty much stopped breathing to start to effect his vision.
"You are a stupid little shit," Jason growls, still glowering.
Somehow, Tim manages to suck enough oxygen into his lungs to stave off a fainting spell, becaue that would be so helpful – it'd be exactly the one thing that could possibly make this horribly awkward situation any worse than it already is.
"You know that, Timmers, right? That you are a stupid, reckless, idiotic little shithead of a genius who doesn't know the first damn thing about working with a team," Jason goes on with an exasperated shake of his head. "Even I know I should consult with someone before disappearing completely. Leave a fuckin' note or somethin'."
Jason huffs, then turns his glare straight back on Tim at full force. "You have any idea how fucking lucky you got? What if nobody figured out that somethin' was wrong?"
The silence begins to stretch out again as Jason waits for Tim to realize that he actually wants some sort of response.
The only one Tim can manage is a timidly squeaked, "I'm sorry."
It seems good enough for Jason, because he huffs again – a long drawn out sound that's too aggressive to be a sigh as he forces down his temper.
It somehow clears the air enough for Tim to start breathing almost normally again.
"Next time, just call the damn Bats first," Jason instructs firmly, "Hell, call the fuckin' police – they aren't all shit at their jobs, you know."
Tim nods.
Jason looks like he doesn't quite believe him – just the barest hint of a suspicious squint marks the edge of the proactively neutral expression around his eyes.
"I won't," Tim starts awkwardly, letting his gaze drop from Jason to stare at where his fingers have begun to fiddle with the phantom of a stray thread on the taught-stretched knee of his dark jeans. "Do it again, I mean. I won't. I'm gonna step back from trying to help the Bats with any of their cases... I'm just a distraction, anyway, so... It'll be better for everyone."
Jason's suspicious squint deepens back into a full-on glare.
His jaw works something over as he considers his next words carefully.
Batman has bugged Tim's bed room, after all.
And they are still trying to keep it under wraps that Tim knows anything truly viable about the Bats' secret identities.
"Yeah, well, whatever," Jason grumbles, apparently unable to articulate his whatever his real frustration is while having to dance around the subject of being known by Tim as Robin. "I think you owe me a little distraction, right now, regardless. I came over here like three weeks ago to play video games and we got interrupted by another one of your stupid little stunts."
Tim ducks his head guiltily.
"Well?" Jason prompts after a beat. "Media room. Chop, chop."
"But… I have homework."
Jason arches a skeptical eyebrow and shifts his gaze to the computer screen. The image of a fluffy blue Persian cat trussed up in a doll-size white lab coat and safety goggles as an off-screen human manipulates its limbs into explaining diagrams of what exactly will be awesome about the Red Nova event taking place in the Cygnus star system sometime around 2022 does not help Tim's case about homework.
He's clearly finished his homework.
Honestly, he's finished his homework for the rest of the school year.
He finished it all last Friday… so he really doesn't have any excuse not to head downstairs with Jason for a few hours of video games.
"Well, I ain't playing Portal by myself, Timbo," Jason huffs, "So, up an' at 'em."
Tim gives a heavy, reluctant sigh and gingerly unfolds himself from his computer chair.
His legs nearly fail to support his weight as the pins and needles sensation strikes, and it's an awkward, unbalanced and gangly, few steps that he takes to cross the room. Jason lets him pass out the door and follows him down the hall – refusing to take the lead even though Tim is well aware that Jason knows his way around the Drake Mansion at this point.
This time, when they make it to the game room, Jason isn't quite as distracted by his awe and they get around to actually sticking in a game to play before anything has a chance to come up that could pull their attention away.
At Jason's insistence, they do wind up playing Portal.
Jason claims it's because the soundtrack got stuck in his head that morning for some reason, but Tim's fairly certain it's actually more of a not so subtle commentary on Jason's opinion of Tim's ability to utilize effective team work.
Either way, the next few hours are a strange mix of painfully awkward and breathtakingly fun.
But it somehow manages to make Tim more resolved than ever to step back.
He can't push Jason away – first off, Tim doesn't think he can make himself do it, and secondly, Jason would likely just ignore his efforts anyway – but he can keep quiet and uninvolved and keep making Jason have to work for any interaction between them.
Jason will get tired of it eventually and back off on his own.
Tim's certain of it.
He knows from experience that he has a tendency to just fade out of the picture if he doesn't actively put forth an effort to stay in it.
Eventually, Jason will be drawn away.
Which means that Tim can both move forward with his plan to back off, and simultaneously enjoy these last however many sessions of friendliness he gets without any guilt to mar the memories he's making.
It's fun and good and light and wonderful.
It hurts in a way Tim didn't know anything could.
Neither of them bring up the night with GHOST and the Tolovis.
It's obvious that both of them know they probably ought to talk about it, but neither of them make any real move to broach the subject.
And the longer they wait, the harder it gets to even consider bring it up.
Especially as the day drags to a close.
Jason stays for dinner – because Mrs Simz finds the pair of them still holed up in the media room when she comes over at five and insists that Jason stay.
He heads back to Wayne Manor before Mrs. Simz leaves.
Tim's nanny is a tender soul and lingers to praise Tim's efforts and encourage this budding friendship – which makes Tim want to squim and squee in equal measure.
It's weird and wrong and ridiculous and wonderful.
It was an odd, exhausting day, but Tim survived it and he goes to bed feeling accomplished enough to actually get a good dose of genuine rest.
The following week is almost identical.
Jason comes over around 1oam on Sunday.
Knocks on the door.
Picks the lock when Tim ignores him.
They wind up playing video games all day and Jason stays for supper.
Tim has school Monday through Friday, so Jason doesn't show up until almost 4.
Follows the same pattern other wise.
Tim barely speaks to him unless Jason initiates the conversation.
After a week of this, seven days of weird and sad and wonderful something, Tim starts to forget his pull-back policy. Sort of. He still makes Jason pick the lock. But he starts interacting again, making jokes and unprompted comments instead of simply answering direct questions.
On their third Saturday of doing this, Jason drops a bomb that reminds Tim why he had the pull-back policy in place to start with.
"B's lettin' me go out again," he says out of the blue while they're washing up for dinner.
It takes Tim a few seconds to realize that he means Robin isn't benched anymore.
"Oh," he says, unable to articulate anything else about what's going through his head.
There's guilt – Tim is a distraction.
And worry – about Jason's safety, about how he and Bruce are handling the things Tim doesn't dare to ask about, about how Dick is handling them…
And pride and awe – Jason is so brave, and so good, and so strong…
And the ache of loneliness… because Jason's going to be too busy for him, he's gonna start pulling away… exactly like Tim planned, like Tim knows he should, like part of Tim wants him to… and like a bigger part of him is absolutely terrified of letting happen.
Jason pauses.
Rolls his eyes over Tim's perfectly blank expression.
Squints.
"I'll still be around, Timmers," he says, slow and seriously, "You ain't got nothin' to worry about with that."
"I'm not," Tim hurries to refute. "Worried, I mean."
Jason's squint doesn't let up.
"I'm… relieved actually," Tim said, pulling a different worry off the back burner of his consideration and starts talking himself into the only defensible corner he can find. "I'm gonna be busy, too. I, uh, I got an – an, um, internship… With a Drake Labs special project."
Jason's expression doesn't really change – not in any quantifiable way that Tim can name, at least – but Tim feels the edge of Jason's suspicion sharpen.
"Yeah, um, I just got the confirmation email this morning," Tim explains, concentrating very hard on rinsing the suds out from between his fingers. "I, um, I start after school on Monday. It's uh, it's an um a coding project mostly, with a bit of chemistry… Trying to make solar power more efficient and accessible."
"Uh-huh," Jason murmurs darkly, frustration mixing with his suspicion now.
"I was gonna tell you," Tim mutters. "At dinner. I wanted to let Mrs Simz know, too, and it's kind of like an exciting thing, right? Something that should be announced at like a meal or something where the whole family is gathered? Dinner is traditionally for things like that, at least, according to the sociology book I picked up the other day."
Jason takes a slow breath – clearly in a conscious effort to steady himself and keep from snapping something nasty at Tim.
Tim knows he would deserve it.
He just hopes that Jason buys his story.
He's mixing a lot of bullshit with his truth, right now – pushing the limits of a believable balance just a little bit further than would be optimimal.
Tim does have something of an internship lined up, but it's really more of a summer camp and it doesn't start until school ceases to be a viable obstacle in late May.
And it is kinda a project with Drake Labs, but the reason Tim applied to begin with is because it has the potential to get him access to Wayne Tech over the summer – it'sthe only summer camp he's ever seen at Wayne Tech that won't automatically kick his profile off the list for being a Drake.
He's pretty sure that part of it is rigged because Bruce Wayne wants to keep an eye on him because Batman doesn't fully believe he's ignorant of the Bats' identities, but he thinks that he can use this opportunity both to prove to Bruce that he isn't going to investigate the Bats and to prove to the WE summer camp selection algorithms that he's a legitimate candidate for consideration on future summer projects.
The confirmation email did come this morning, so that bit's true.
But that's about it.
Tim doesn't really have anything new to keep him busy starting on Monday.
At best, he's gonna start using some of his excess of free time to make sure he can impress when he's actually allowed to do legitimate work on this special project thing.
"This internship thing doesn't have anything to do with the Wayne Tech autonomous car project thingy B's just announced, does it?" Jason growled. There was no real bite to it, certainly none aimed at Tim – Jason was just noticing the same detail about how this project would keep Tim under Bruce's thumb all summer in a way Batman would find very useful for surveillance.
What Jason didn't realize – couldn't possibly guess – was that Tim didn't care about that part. He was too excited about the potential of working with Wayne Tech to be terribly concerned with the fact that the only reason he was able to get into the program is because it made it easy for Batman to spy on him. Tim rationalizes that it's only fair, because the only reason he didn't get into any of the summer camps before now is that his last name is Drake.
"It might," Tim says, answering Jason's question as he gives up on avoiding his gaze and takes the towel Jason's offering to dry his hands. "But only if I get through this Drake Labs thing and prove that I'm good enough to work on the rest of the project."
Tim's not sure if Jason buys it, but he seems to accept the explanation as good enough.
They transition into dinner with only the slightest edge of awkwardness.
The meal isn't quite as nice and simple as the others they've had recently, but it's still good, still nice, still much better than any other kind of dinner at Drake Mansion Tim's been able to participate in. It's good. And Tim will miss it now that it has to be over.
But he's still glad he got the time he did.
Mrs. Simz is aptly excited about the internship.
And about the summer rugby team that Jason's joining.
She knows both boys will be very busy but maintains high hopes that they'll still be able to have enough time together to enjoy their summers.
Jason vehemently agrees.
Tim says he agrees, but privately knows that they won't be able to – that they shouldn't put in the effort to force it because it's better if they just go their separate ways.
And better yet, he's glad that this way, he can let Jason phase him out quickly – instead of having to watch the slow retreat in an agonizing march of inevitability.
That night, after Jason leaves for Wayne Manor and Mrs Simz leaves to go be with her own family, Tim breathes in the heavy silence of the empty mansion and heads up to his room with a bitter sweet twist in his lungs.
He turns on the Science Channel for background noise on the television perched in the corner of his bed room and settles at his desk to start investigating solar power.
Tim has absolutely no background in the science, so gaining some baseline information is crucial to ensuring his success at this quasi-internship / summer camp.
He intends to do extremely well.
His parents would expect nothing less from him, and Tim has grown used to the requirement of being exceptional.
And for something like this, something that he wants like this, Tim intends to handle all the details of it with the thorough excellence he's cultivated his whole life.
Maybe he'll be able to do something to help the Bats, to be useful to the Crusade, without causing any more incidents or being at all distracting.
Maybe he can actually do something good.
