Tim Drake Steals Himself A Family, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Part 6 (rough draft)
Tim loved his life. He got some great shots of the Batman & Robin vs. Scarecrow & goons battle, and now he actually had people to show them to once they were ready for viewing. Plus, when the vigilantes went back on the move after Scarecrow was arrested, Tim didn't have to struggle to catch up. He simply summoned another rideshare and followed Batman's and Robin's trackers, wondering idly what their plans were for the rest of the night. It was so ridiculously easy that he was a little tempted to close the tracker program and try to follow them by his usual, less direct means.
After a few minutes, Batman's voice sounded in his ear. "Shadow?"
Tim blinked in surprise at being addressed, then glanced at the driver. Prooobably not a good idea to have a vigilante conversation where an outsider could hear. Wait, did Batman and Robin even know that Tim had called a rideshare?
...Oops. Hopefully they weren't too mad at him for not staying where they'd put him. But surely they hadn't expected him to just wait on the roof for hours, being completely useless, while they had their fun hunting Scarecrow, right?
"Nightwing?" That was Robin. "You have any idea where Shadow is?"
"I thought he was with you."
Great. Tim had to meet up with them soon before their confusion at being unable to contact him turned into irritation and anger. He really hated how unimpressed they would be with him, but there was nothing he could do about it now except to ditch the rideshare and rendezvous with the Bats as soon as possible.
Looking at the tracking app, he realized that Batman and Robin must have had the same idea, because their two dots were steadily moving closer to Tim's. He waited until the dots were nearby, then started craning to look out the window. Ah- A flash of color on a nearby rooftop; probably Robin.
Making sure that his own side of the line was closed (no need to lay out the exact details of his incompetence), he called to the driver, "Hey, Marie? You can just let me off here."
"What?" The driver braked but didn't completely stop, twisting back to glance at him. "Here?"
"Yeah, my uncle just texted me, he's nearby. He said he could pick me up and take me the rest of the way home."
Marie looked dubious, but she was another one who was already familiar with Tim, so she agreed to stop when Tim poked an extra-large tip through the security partition.
Tim thanked her, got out of the car, and headed into the nearest alley. After a quick check to make sure it was safe, he got out his grapple gun. Now that he'd had a bit of practice, he was able to make the ascent smoothly and somewhat gracefully.
He realized he'd been subconsciously hoping for a word of praise when the first thing out of Batman's mouth was not that. "How did you know we were here?"
...What? "I was...watching your trackers?" Tim said uncertainly, showing them the Bat phone. He'd thought that would have been obvious.
The only answer was a painful silence, as Robin glanced at Batman and Batman simply loomed ominously. Crap, the man really was angry.
Tim nervously wondered which of the things he'd done wrong were the most grievous. "Sorry I didn't answer over the comm, I didn't want the driver to hear me talking to you guys," he tried. When that didn't prompt any sort of response, either, he went on, "I made sure she couldn't see what I was doing on the phone. It was, um, just a normal rideshare, I hope that's okay. You guys have used public transportation before, so I thought-"
"It's fine," Batman finally snapped, and Tim shut his mouth. This was reminding him uncomfortably of whenever his parents were coldly dissatisfied with him, expecting him to know what he'd done wrong and getting more and more irritated as he flailed, trying to figure it out.
"Hey," Robin said, "we're really sorry we left you on the roof."
Tim tried to figure out what this statement had to do with anything.
"We were in a hurry and..."
That...kind of sounded like Robin thought he and Batman were somehow in the wrong, instead of Tim? It didn't make sense, but Tim gratefully took the out, anyway. "Forgot about me?" he joked, hoping half-heartedly to lighten the mood.
"We're not used to having a third wheel on patrol," Robin grumbled.
Wait - that sounded like the vigilantes had genuinely forgotten about Tim. Not that it mattered much either way, but huh. Tim had thought they had more situational awareness than that, though it was interesting to see them experience a moment of human weakness. He'd have to keep that in mind if they ever let him accompany them on patrol again; he couldn't count on them always factoring him into their plans and contingencies.
Batman continued to be perfectly still and quiet, but Tim was starting to think his own inability to interpret the silence was at fault. As long as the man wasn't explicitly expressing displeasure, maybe it would just be better to pretend that nothing was wrong. Heck, maybe nothing was wrong on Tim's end. He'd much rather the Bats think that they'd made some sort of mistake instead of Tim, though of course he'd never rub their faces in it. He was just grateful to not be in trouble. "It's fine, it happens all the time. If people need help or bad guys need to be caught, I don't want to hold you back."
Batman finally spoke up again. "What do you mean, 'it happens all the time'?"
Batman and Robin sure tended to fixate on the strangest things. It was throwing Tim for a slight loop. "Uh. I mean, I always just follow the protocol, you know."
"What protocol?"
Luckily, this one Tim did have an answer for, since he had once wondered what Robin would be expected to do if he was ever separated from Batman and confronted with a situation he couldn't handle alone. Half of it was what Tim himself actually did in the rare cases where he caught wind of a situation that was bad enough for him to retreat home instead of continuing to stalk the Bats. "Evaluate the destination, return to base if dangerous, rendezvous using the tracker program if not."
Tim did his best despite still not really getting why they were upset, but Batman finally paused the let's-gang-up-on-Tim session. "We'll talk about this more back home. For now, Shadow, stick close, and comm us if we get separated again."
"Yes, sir," Tim said in relief, vowing to never neglect to do so again. Disappointing Batman and Robin was even worse than disappointing his parents.
o.o.o
Tim remembered some of the drive back to Bristol, but the next thing he was aware of was waking up in a bed, and that it was morning. He didn't know how long after that it was when it occurred to him that this was not his own bed. It was a Bat bed, and he couldn't just sleep in as long as he wanted to. Blargh. Interaction with other human people.
He dragged himself to the toilet so he could pee, then lurched out of the room and in the general direction of what he hoped was the kitchen. Kitchens usually had coffee. Needed coffee to finish booting up brain. He was vaguely aware of other human persons nearby, so he followed them in the hopes they had a better idea than he did where the kitchen/coffee was.
Ah. Tile. Sunlight. Shiny surfaces. Kitchen. And delicious coffee, over there. Follow the nose.
Mug? Mugs. Nice stack here. Pick one and fill with delicious, life-giving coffee.
Someone's hands were stealing his coffeeeee. Not good.
Tim tried to protest, but got the impression that the sounds that came out of his mouth might not have been entirely coherent. Oh well. Other human people around him were bigger. First dibs. He went for another cup. Plenty left.
Except...except he couldn't move the coffee pot correctly to pour into the cup. Someone else had hold of the pot. Tim refused to let go. Other, higher-ranking human people could claim first dibs, but they could not take all the coffee, that was not fair. Inhumane.
A voice cut through the mumbling around him. "Put the coffee down, Master Tim."
What? What was this? A human person denying him coffee? No. Just...no. "I need it," Tim managed to get out. The other big hands were still holding onto the pot. Too strong. Tim was unable to liberate the elixir. He lowered his face toward it instead, desperate for a draught.
"Blah blah blah, Master Tim," the highest-ranking human person was saying again, "blah blah no coffee," or something like that. Tim was fuzzy on the exact wording, but it was clearly an authoritative denial. Tim couldn't defy. He was doing something, right? Pretending. Yes. Had to pretend he belonged here. Only belonged if he followed the rules. The rule was...no coffee for Tim. It was a rule. If he didn't follow the rule, he would Fail, but if he did follow the rule, then...no coffee for Tim.
No coffee.
He looked up at the higher-ranking human people, wanting to beg. Please. Please let him have coffee. Please. Life-giving elixir.
"No," the highest-ranking one said, far too sweetly. "You are not allowed. I am a cruel and wicked overlord and you may not have the elixir you seek."
Dammit.
Tim forced his sluggish brain to work. Pretending to belong here. If he really belonged, he would have already known the No Coffee For Tim rule. He hadn't known it, but had to pretend he did. Why would he seek coffee if he knew it wasn't allowed? Because he was trying to disobey behind their backs. Yes. A good lie. Or maybe a bad lie, but the it was the best he could come up with when he had no elixir to power his brain.
"I should've known I couldn't sneak past you," he pouted, then lost all will to exist. No point in continuing to fight for the coffee, no point in standing, no point in expending energy of any kind.
Yes. The floor was good. He would lie here until the overlords either took pity on him or left, at which point he would be out of their line of sight and could disobey at his leisure.
Instead, an overlord picked him up and relocated him. Tim flopped over and might have fallen asleep again, but then became aware of some enticing smells very close by. Slowly, he dragged the plate even closer, picked up the first eating utensil he touched, and did his best to herd food into his mouth.
For something that wasn't coffee, it was pretty good. Gradually, as he swallowed more and more of the stuff, his head started to clear.
Ah. Breakfast with the Waynes. All of them looked kind of ridiculous, a circle of black-haired, blue-eyed people drooping into their plates. Mr. Pennyworth was the best. Tim wasn't used to having breakfast this delicious on an ordinary day at home; he usually just made do with cereal or sticking frozen waffles in the toaster or something.
"You're coming to work with me today, Tim."
Tim froze, then looked cautiously at Mr. Wayne. "I am?"
"Then we can go shopping afterward, without me having to go all the way to the manor and then back into town and then back to the manor before patrol even starts."
Oh. That...made sense? Tim hadn't been sure Mr. Wayne would follow through on his promise to buy him a camera, but looked like that would actually be happening. Tim wasn't sure why the man wanted Tim underfoot at work all day, but maybe it would be worth it to save the extra trip to and from Bristol.
After Tim finished eating, he excused himself and went to shower and brush his teeth. Clothing was a problem, though. If he was going to Wayne Enterprises, then he ought to dress appropriately, but he hadn't brought any formal clothes with him to Wayne Manor, assuming he wouldn't need them. Now that he did, he couldn't just...ask for a suit, since someone who truly did live with the Waynes would already have several.
Tim chewed on his lip for a moment. Then, wrapped in a bathrobe, he opened his bedroom door all the way and started packing the things he would need for the day, keeping an eye on the hallway. As soon as he saw Jason pass by, he tensed. He counted off another couple of minutes to give the older boy time to get downstairs.
Then Tim went into Jason's room, trying to look casual for the sake of any cameras, and made a beeline for the closet. His heart pounded, knowing that he'd probably be in huge trouble if Jason caught him in his room without permission, but Tim didn't have any choice if he wanted to keep up the pretense of belonging here. He needed a suit, and Jason was the only one who'd have something that came anywhere near fitting Tim. Someone would surely recognize the suit as Jason's, but the best Tim could do was claim that Jason had promised to lend him a suit because Tim had grown too big for all of his own or something, then look hurt and confused when he was called out on the lie.
There was a whole cluster of suits and matching shoes at one end of the closet, and Tim grabbed one set of each, pausing only just long enough to glance over the ensemble and make sure it was acceptable. Then he took it with him back to his own room, shut the door, and began racing around.
To his relief, there was a sewing kit in one of the drawers. He put on the outfit as quickly as possible and then did his best to pin the fabric strategically, trying to make it fit better. The suit had probably been ironed before being put in the closet, but it had accumulated a few mild wrinkles while in storage, and Tim did his best to straighten them out with water. He ran a lint roller over himself and did his best to tame his hair with gel from the bathroom. He stuffed the shoes with paper towels to make them fit, then studied himself in the mirror and made as many adjustments as he could.
Not perfect, but it was the best he could do. He took a deep breath, picked up his bag, and went downstairs to wait for Mr. Wayne.
The man frowned at him. "Where did you get that suit?"
Tim was ready for that one. "Jason lent it to me."
"What happened to the one you wore at the last gala?"
...Tim had not been ready for that one. 'Play along,' he thought immediately, and words sprang from his mouth. "Darlene Winston spilled some wine on me after you left for patrol." Acceptable. He'd seen Darlene Winston spill wine on a fellow guest before, and claiming that this particular incident had happened at a time when Mr. Wayne wouldn't have seen it was a satisfactory touch.
"Surely Alfred's already taken care of that by now."
Crap. Lying to the Waynes definitely was not as easy as lying to most other people. Tim had never before had to think so quickly for such an extended period of time; it was like every conversation he'd had with the family was a series of tests. "I kind of...never told Alfred?" was what he went with.
"It'll be worse now than if you'd told him at the beginning."
Tim rambled out a reply, knowing that all he needed was to continue justifying not having a suit of his own to wear. What he was more concerned about was the really weird way he and Mr. Wayne were having a conversation about an event that had never happened. Tim was starting to wonder more and more seriously if he'd missed something and that all his lies were somehow...the truth after all? Or being made real via magic? Or something? Surely it was not natural for a family of super-intelligent vigilantes to either not notice his lies or play along with them for this long, right?
"The suit's fine," Mr. Wayne finally said, unexpectedly letting Tim off the hook. "You look very nice, Tim."
Tim, still tensed for battle, was taken aback by the unexpected compliment. "Oh. Um, thank you, sir-" Crap, maybe the compliment had simply been an attempt to get Tim to lower his guard. If so, it had worked. "Dad," Tim corrected hastily, relieved when Mr. Wayne didn't call him out on his slip-up. But then, hadn't that been the purpose of randomly saying something nice to him? "Thanks, Dad."
Mr. Wayne only clapped him on the shoulder, just like a real dad would with his real son. "Come on, let's get to the car."
Maybe Tim was hallucinating or dreaming this entire thing, that he was Mr. Wayne's son and part of their family for real. If so, he kind of didn't want to wake up.
TBC