Tim Drake age 6

It was Dianne's sixth kid of the day and it was only 9:30. Between Joker attacks and just living in Gotham being a school nurse sucked. Did the kid have an upper respiratory infection or is it remnants of Joker gas?

The next that kid walked in had a full-on bleeding arm. He looked like he had stuck it in a wood chipper. It was the start of a long day.

"Sit down right over there," Dianne said as she pointed to the chair. "What's your name honey?"

"Timothy Drake, I fell and hurt my arm. It's not bad, but my teacher said you needed to look at it before I could go back to class."

Dianne hid a wince as she looked at how many tiny bits of gravel were in-bedded in his arm. "How did this happen?"

"Oh, Thomas MacGlothlin didn't see me when we were at recess he accidentally pushed me. It's not a big deal," Timothy said in a way that made it seem like those weren't his words, but someone else's.

Dianne patched him up and determined to keep a close on him. Later she would find out that that was a rare promise that was kept for the little Drake boy.

Tim Drake age 8

"Nurse Dianne, I need a bandaid," Tim Drake announced as he stuck his head into her office. Dianne gave him a little smile that she gave to all her students and waved to him to come on. Being a school nurse for seven years had given her a certain intuition about students and Tim Drake screamed neglect. Oh, there were no bruises on him, perfect school record no chance to call CPS over truancy, but she had seen him jump off the top of the slide on the playground just to get a bandaid or an ice pack.

It was hardly ever anything that would make her call Mrs. Mac, the only number in his record to call for emergencies. Jack and Janet didn't list their numbers in case someone got a hold of the numbers that they didn't want them having. They might as well be meth-head parents from Crime Alley with as much as they didn't care.

"Ok, honey, did you fall or anything? She asked as he folded the pants of his uniform up. He really did fall hard enough for his knee to be all torn up and bloody. No chance for her boy to do things halfway. She quickly put on gloves and got out antiseptic wipes, quickly cleaned the cut, and applied antibiotic ointment on it before topping it off with a large bandaid.

He watched her as she worked and Dianne smiled as he told her, "Oliver Eddington said that I couldn't jump off the swing if I was swinging from the top of it."

"You and your knee showed him. Be more careful, Tim." She saw his face fall slightly, "You know you can drop in and say hi, you don't always have to come for an aspirin or bandaid."

"I don't want to a bother and take up too much of your time," Tim replied carefully as he folded his pants back down.

"You're not a bother. Do you want a peppermint?" Dianne asked.

"Yes, please." He replied.

She handed him the soft peppermint, and placed a hand on his bony shoulder, "Do you want me to walk you to Miss Oak's class?"

"Yes, please."

Dianne walked him out of the clinic making small talk until they reached his classroom she got down to his level and placed her hand on his shoulder, "I mean it, Tim, if you need to talk to someone I'll be in my office."

"Thanks, Nurse Dianne."

Dianne sighed at her desk when three weeks later Tim had avoided her completely. She had plenty of kids with stomach aches, headaches, and cuts, but no more Tim. She cursed her meddling, but that child needed to know someone would listen to him. She could only hope he had someone that she didn't know about. Tim was one of five hundred children in a school and it never felt more like he was avoiding her.

Tim Drake age 12

Dianne remembered a time when Timothy Drake would make excuses for coming into her office. She never thought she'd see the day when he would tell her, "I forgot to eat breakfast, that's why I passed out. I'll eat something out of my lunchbox and be fine. I don't need to go to your office."

Tim was pale to begin with, but he was pasty, sickly white, and sweating like he'd ran a marathon. He hadn't moved to get up from the floor where he had slumped in the middle of class.

"Tim, you passed out. I want you eat something for sure, but come to my office and lay down. You don't look like you feel well." She placed her hand on his forehead and wasn't surprised to find that he was burning up.

"I'm fine," Tim replied with more fake confidence than most adults had.

"Come on Tim, I think you have a fever." Dianne grabbed his book bag and helped him to his feet. She kept a hand on his arm to stabilize him and didn't like how much he was swaying. The short walk to the school clinic was a long trip with Tim's shuffling steps guided by her. She was going to call Mrs. Mac to pick him up and insist on taking him to his doctor or urgent care. She helped him to the bed in the clinic and gave him some orange juice to sip and checked his temperature, the tympanic thermometer read 103.2.

"I'm going to give you something for the fever. I'll give a note to Mrs. Mac when she comes about how high it was," Dianne said as she left him to get the two small pills for him and a blanket he had started shivering had started in earnest. She helped him sit up to take the pills and then laid the thick, bright blanket over him. "Let me know if you need anything I'm going to call Mrs. Mac. you need to go home and rest."

Tim nodded a small nod and closed his eyes. Dianne sat down at her desk and pulled up Tim Drake's emergency contact information and called Mrs. Mac only to leave a message, and another message thirty minutes later.

A handful of kids trickled in with a bloody nose, stomachache, and a girl who just got her first visit from aunt flow and Mrs. Mac still hadn't called back. Tim was passed out on the bed and she was worried about him, who knew what kids in Gotham were exposed to? Dianne shook his shoulder gently as she noted in horror that he had multiple bruises littering his chest.

"Tim do you have someone else I could call? Mrs. Mac hasn't answered are your parents in town?" She asked.

"She's on vacation right now I'm staying with Bruce Wayne right now. I can give you Mr. Pennyworth's number he can pick me up," Tim replied and then rattled off the number.

Dianne dialed the number and before the third ring a very English man answered, "Wayne Manor, Alfred speaking."

"Hello, this is Dianne Higgins the nurse at Gotham Academy I was given this number for Timothy Drake?" She asked thinking about the charting nightmare this was going to be.

"Ah, yes. How is Tim? He didn't look well this morning, but he insisted on coming to school," Alfred replied and Dianne hoped the concern she heard wasn't faked.

"He passed out about an hour ago while he was in class, and has a high fever. I've given him Tylenol. Tim needs to go to a doctor," Dianne said.

"I see, someone will be there to pick him up soon," Alfred replied before adding, "Thank you for letting me know. I'll call the Drakes to make arrangements for Bruce to pick him up."

She hung up and the bruises that were littered on Tim's chest came back to her. Tim's reluctance to come to her. Getting sick, but not coming to her until it couldn't be hidden. If the Drakes had left Tim with Bruce Wayne and all of a sudden he was getting bruises raised so many red flags.

Lisbeth the school secretary hated the Drakes with all her being. She had sat with Tim in her office too many times when he was younger and they forgot to have someone pick him up. Dianne knew she hated them so when Lisbeth came in with an updated form giving Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth permission to pick Tim up. It made them both wonder what was going on. They could count on his parents making the worst decisions for their son.

Tim was asleep when Bruce freaking Wayne came into her office. She didn't think she'd ever met the man even though Dick Grayson and Jason Todd had attended Gotham Academy. The huge 6'4" man looked worried about Tim at least. She went over what happened again with him and Bruce nodded at the right points. He also wrote his personal number on a sticky note to put in Tim's emergency contact file. Dianne knew that he could be lying about the number a lot of wealthy people lied.

"Mr. Wayne I noticed that Tim has some bruising on his chest do you know where that came from?" Dianne asked knowing that he had enough pull to get her fired.

He looked at her for a fraction of a second with fear before adopting a grim expression, "I didn't know he had bruising on his chest. I'll be having a talk with him about hiding injuries and bullies. I recently started looking after him and he's so much different than Jason or Dick."

"I'll call tomorrow to check on him," Dianne said letting him know she would see if he lied about his phone number.

Mr. Wayne walked over to the sleeping boy and gently woke him up, and much to Tim's displeasure he took the blanket away and picked him up like a child and not an almost teenager.

She didn't trust what she had just witnessed. This was Gotham city and not Metropolis kids didn't get magic loving homes without paying a high price.

Bruce had a habit of getting boys around Tim's age and the last one died under suspicious circumstances.