Belonged Here All Along, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Chapter 5 (rough draft)
They left in two separate cars, Alfred with the older boys and Bruce with the youngest. As he drove, Bruce kept stealing glances at the child. Tim was sitting up straight with his hands in his lap, looking very prim and proper. "You can relax, you know," Bruce finally said.
Tim blinked at him in confusion.
"If you want to play on your phone or something, that's fine."
"Oh. Thank you." Tim took out his phone and tapped at it politely. Bruce returned his attention to the road, idly pondering the mystery of Timothy maybe-Drake.
At Wayne Tower, Bruce went into Brucie mode, looking at Tim out of the corner of his eye to gauge how the boy would take it. Tim seemed unsurprised and shyly amused, and soon made attempts to play along with the act.
"Bruce! You're here!" one of a cluster of passing men called, playfully feigning shock at the sight of Brucie Wayne actually at work for once.
"Thought I'd throw Lucius a bone," Bruce said jovially.
"Oh, Mr. Wayne!" exclaimed the secretary in the lobby, "Who's this little gentleman?" She smiled down at Tim, who straightened up and gave her a professional nod and smile.
So it wasn't just the family; outsiders didn't think of Tim as Bruce's son, either. "What, you don't recognize Timmy?" Bruce said, ruffling Tim's hair. Tim looked up at him for a moment, startled, before jerking his eyes forward again and plastering a now-uncertain smile back on his face, reaching up to fix his hair.
"Er..." The secretary's smile had grown uncertain as well.
"Grown like a weed, hasn't he! Ha ha!" Bruce swept himself and Tim along to a private elevator. As they headed up, Tim kept stealing wary glances at him. "How long has it been since you were last here at the office?" Bruce chatted.
"Um. I guess it's been a while, huh," Tim said, looking a little disconcerted.
"Don't worry, Timmy, I'm sure Ellen will recognize you," Bruce said reassuringly.
"It's okay if she doesn't," was Tim's faint response.
When the doors opened, Bruce strode off and into the receiving room of his suite. "Ellen, my dear!"
"Thank God," she said briskly. "Mr. Fox asked you to go see him the moment you arrive." She glanced curiously at Tim.
Bruce clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Aren't you going to say hi to Ellen?"
Tim jerked and blurted out in an almost panicked way, "Good morning, ma'am!" Bruce frowned a little. He hadn't meant to make the boy think he was in trouble.
"Good morning. Would you like one?" Ellen asked, nudging the bowl of candy she kept on her desk.
"Oh, no thank you, ma'am."
"No need to be shy, Timmy," Bruce said, grabbing a fistful and dumping it into the cupped hands Tim barely managed to get raised in time. "How many bags do I owe you now?" he asked Ellen, nodding at the bowl.
"Please don't give me anymore candy, I still have five bags left," she sighed. "I won't be able to fit another in the cabinet." She smiled at Tim. "Just enjoy the sweets, honey, there's plenty more where they came from." She looked back at Bruce and pointed at the door. "Mr. Fox. Now, please."
"Come on, Tim," Bruce said, still not willing to leave the boy to his own devices.
When they entered the office, Lucius glanced up from his computer and raised an eyebrow. "Who's this?"
"What is up with everyone today?" Bruce laughed. "No one recognizes my boy!"
"I haven't been out of the house in a while," Tim offered. "Busy with school and stuff."
Lucius sighed. "As long as you don't mind him sitting in on a sensitive meeting. Bruce, I know it's difficult for you to make it into the office, but please try harder, there's a lot that's piled up."
As Bruce and his CEO worked through the backlog, Tim sat quietly and worked on a laptop. When Bruce passed by on the pretense of getting some water, he glanced at the screen and saw that Tim was legitimately working on schoolwork, though he also seemed to have a suspiciously large number of other windows minimized.
After the session was finally over, Bruce headed back to his own office with Tim trotting after him. "Hey, Bruce! Is this your latest adoptee?" someone called as they passed. "He's adorable!"
Bruce kept walking but smiled and clapped a hand on Tim's shoulder. "And smart, too!"
Tim blushed and mumbled something unintelligible.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Bruce and Tim did their respective work, and when Bruce occasionally asked if the boy needed help, Tim always responded politely that he was fine. Bruce managed to get a few more glimpses of the boy's screen over time, but it wasn't particularly enlightening. All he got was that Tim seemed to be simultaneously writing a computer program, looking up graffiti and gang symbols, instant messaging someone, listening to videos with earbuds, skimming through some sort of scholarly article, and browsing through at least two Internet forums in addition to his schoolwork. Bruce tried a couple of status updates as a test, but it seemed Tim really had been progressing on his schoolwork along with whatever else he was working on.
When Tim awkwardly mentioned that he needed to use the restroom, Bruce had Ellen escort him, then took the opportunity to call Jack and Janet Drake. For the fifth time, he was directed to voicemail on both their phones. He didn't bother leaving another message.
For lunch, Tim was so reluctant about expressing preferences that Bruce finally just called in orders to four different restaurants. When the food arrived, Tim didn't seem very animated about it; he simply grabbed whatever was closest and absently munched on it as he continued to work. Bruce felt a little pang as he watched, wondering if that's what he himself seemed like to Alfred. Like father, like son - if Tim was even his son.
As the workday wound to a close, Bruce's phone lit up with a text from Alfred. Bruce pushed back his chair, took a moment to stretch, then logged out of his computer and stood up. Tim watched him intently. "Time to go, lad. Alfred's here."
"Yes, sir," Tim said, shutting his laptop and packing up swiftly.
"There's no rush, Tim."
Tim gave him an awkward look and slowed down slightly. Then he came trotting along again as Bruce made his way downstairs, calling out Brucie-isms to people they passed. Alfred was waiting with the car and they set off on one of Bruce's favorite parts of acquiring a new child: shopping.
Unfortunately, Tim's reactions weren't any more satisfactory than it had been to buy stuff for Dick, who wasn't big on material possessions, and Jason, who worried a lot about money and freaked out once his very low spending tolerance was exceeded. Tim was an odd combination of the two, blasé about everything he looked at except the cameras and exhibiting a growing (though less visible) anxiety similar to Jason's.
"Really, Mis- Dad, I'm fine," he practically pleaded. "You already got me the camera and tablet and video games and all those clothes and shoes, and I've already got toothpaste and stuff; really, it's getting late, I don't want to bother you. I know you have things to do."
Bruce gazed down at the boy for a long moment. Tim swallowed and straightened up, smoothing his expression into a neutral one.
"Why don't we pick out some socks and underthings, then return home?" Alfred suggested.
Bruce sighed. "Fine." No one ever let him have fun.
They went home and took their pre-patrol naps, then got up and were ordered by Alfred to eat before being allowed down into the cave.
"We're stopping by the Watchtower first," Bruce informed the boys once they were all gathered. "We'll leave in an hour. Cave work until then."
Dick and Jason nodded, then immediately headed off to work on projects, Jason at the computer and Dick in the laboratory area.
Bruce took a chair at the Batcomputer as well. Tim hesitantly came up beside him and watched for a while. "You finished going through the Patterson files?" Bruce invented.
"Um, mostly," Tim said, looking disconcerted again. "Is there...anything I can help you with?"
Bruce didn't really want an unvetted individual working with the Batcomputer; it would be too easy for Tim to plant malware if he turned out to be a spy after all. "You can go through this and write up a preliminary report," Bruce said, picking up a physical paper file for a low-priority case and handing it over. "That will save me time when I get a chance to look at it myself."
"Yes, sir," Tim said eagerly, taking the file and plopping down in a nearby chair to go through it.
Bruce kept half an eye on the boy for a while, then grew absorbed in his own work. When a timer went off to signal that it was time to head to the Watchtower, Bruce sighed, stretched, and rubbed at his eyes. "Boys, get your masks on," he called.
"Did you want to check my work?" Tim asked, offering the notepad he'd been scribbling on.
Bruce blinked, suddenly curious. "Sure." As the boys were getting ready, Bruce first skimmed Tim's report and then read it again more thoroughly, referring to papers in the case file. He was both impressed and a little suspicious. Tim had a good eye for details and made some impressive deductions based on the clues, but his notation style was nothing like the system the Bats used.
On impulse, Bruce scooped up one of the many crumpled papers on the floor and smoothed it open. A lot of the writing was scratched out, but he could still tell that Tim had a variety of less solid ideas and speculations that hadn't been included in his report.
"Tim," Bruce called.
The boy, now in his Shadow outfit, trotted over and looked apprehensive. "Yes, sir?"
"You ought to keep your brainstorming along with your official notes. Even if most of it goes nowhere, you never know when you might get a new insight or uncover new evidence, and it's good to have all your ideas available to refer to."
"Oh." Tim shifted uncomfortably. "I just didn't want to have my, um, dumber ideas on...on record."
"Why not?"
Tim swallowed, then made a visible effort to look more confident. "I know you expect only the best, Batman. I want to make sure the work I do for you is the best."
Bruce hesitated. This felt very much like one of those crucial parenting moments that he often screwed up. "I'm...impressed with your work, Tim. I don't want you to feel afraid to share your ideas with me, even if they're wrong." There; that was adequate, right? Praise coupled with an expression of Bruce's real worry.
Tim searched his face for a moment. Then he nodded slowly. "Yes, sir."
Bruce nodded back. "All right." He looked to where Dick and Jason were horseplaying on the training mats. "Boys, let's go!"
The older kids went through the Zeta-Tube first, then, at a nod from Bruce, Tim apprehensively stepped into the entrance. Bruce was relieved when Tim's biometrics weren't recognized: more proof that Bruce wasn't losing his mind and that someone was simply trying to deceive him.
"That's odd," Bruce said. "Try again." Tim obeyed, now looking a little sick. The scanner beeped another rejection. "Huh." Bruce accessed the permissions database. "What? Your ID isn't even showing up."
"Weird," Tim said weakly. He suddenly straightened up and said in a stronger tone, "Maybe Dick or Jason deleted it for a prank."
Bruce hid his amusement at the kid's resourcefulness. "Maybe. I'll have to look into it later; we're late." He created a new ID for Tim with restrictions so that the boy wouldn't be able to waltz on and off the Watchtower at will. Then he gestured for Tim to try again, and this time, the Zeta-Tube allowed the boy to pass through.
The group of Bats made their way from the Zeta deck toward the control room. As they passed through one of the lounges with a full window wall and its view of space, Shadow halted and stared. Batman paused, too, watching him. Nightwing and Robin noticed what was going on and ambled back.
"It's cool the first few times," Robin said in a deadpan, his mischief only noticeable to someone who knew him well, "but it gets pretty old after a while, right?"
"R-Right," Shadow stammered, tearing his eyes away from the breathtaking view with visible effort.
"I forgot, Shadow, when did B start letting you up here?" Nightwing chimed in, playing along with Robin's teasing.
"Um..." Shadow cocked his head ever so slightly in Batman's direction. Batman remained silent in his own contribution to the game, leaving the boy to flounder on his own. "I kinda forgot, too; it's been a while."
"You need to cultivate your memory better than that, Shadow," Batman said in a stern tone, then regretted it when he saw how utterly aghast the boy was to have supposedly failed to live up to expectations.
"I was just playing cool, Batman, it was on my last birthday," Shadow said decisively, though with a slight tremor in his voice.
Nightwing, looking a little regretful about the teasing as well, reached to pat the younger boy on the shoulder. "You stepped up a level, huh. Come on, Shadow, the League is waiting."
TBC