It was a week or so later that Timothy came to a conclusion. That he was able to grow to the size of a child, and that it held a time limit. Although the time limit seemed to have grown each time. Not only that, but it took time before he could grow again. Perhaps like recharging.
Timothy wanted to tell his parents this development, he really did… he just never got the chance.
And then he got the craziest idea ever.
That he could… that he could sneak out.
It was such a ludicrous idea. Simply awful. But it wouldn't leave him.
He wasn't quite sure how he got it in the first place. Maybe it was because his mind wandered to stories of children and teens sneaking out. Maybe it was because he saw a fly managing to escape through a crack that would more than likely be fixed as soon as it was found. Really, it was a mystery. One moment he didn't have that thought, and then the very next it just… popped into his mind.
Timothy wouldn't go far, he had truly decided, if actually went through with sneaking out. Perhaps he would walk through the garden. Go and feel the petals on his fingers. Or even walk over to the more forested area that separated Drake Manor and Wayne Manor. Of course Timothy wouldn't go onto Wayne property. He would just… experience being under a tree was all.
And as his parents walk out the door, having finished what they needed to do at the company and thus able to go back to traveling around the world, Timothy realized that it would probably be easier to sneak out this way. After all, his parents wouldn't be back five to six months from now. So he waited until he was absolutely sure that any cleaning staff had left before acting.
(After all, mother and father were kind enough to let him have summer vacation, so he had no tutors to watch out for. But even then they only came in during the day.)
So, after Timothy grew, and had shaken off the pain, he went underneath the bed. Nails carefully latched onto a loose floorboard. Slowly it rose with other boards attached to it. Underneath the floorboards, was a hidden space. And in that hidden space, held a box filled with clothes. Off to the side was a bundled up makeshift rope.
Timothy knew his mother would go and get rid of the clothes that she had bought for him on his birthday. After all, what purpose would they serve if the intended person could not fit in it? Thankfully he was able to hide some of the less fancy ones away. It was a tad strange she didn't get rid of it yet, as they were still put away.
Well, the ones Timothy didn't hide away, anyways.
(Timothy did not know if anyone knew about the hidden compartment. He knew that his parents did not build this manor. Rather they had bought it instead. It was pure fact that if his mother had known about this she would have probably had it fixed up. But since it was still there, it was unlikely that she had known.)
Quickly picking random parts of an outfit, Timothy speedily put them on. He then went back under to grab the rope he had made for this larger size of his. It was a tad harder this time round, but he managed to find enough materials that no one would realize it had gone missing.
He could feel his heart pound as he tied the rope around the bed leg, much like in the stories. He stopped for a moment. His hands were shaking.
Taking a deep breath in, he forced himself to calm down.
It would be okay. He would be okay.
There were no screens at the windows in his room. For the windows were always closed. If for whatever reason the windows had to be opened, Timothy could not be in the room. However this rule did not apply to anywhere else in the house. Timothy was actually quite thankful for the fact there were no screens in these windows, as he wasn't sure how to take screens out of windows. His little house had none for him to practice with.
But he could open the window. It was the same type as the one in his little house after all. And yet… and yet he wasn't opening it.
He just stood there.
Looking at it.
He could stop what he was doing. He could put away the makeshift rope, return the pieces that made it up. He could just stand or sit in his room and just experience his own little world as it was. He could try to forget everything and return to his normal, daily life.
Or… or he could actually open the window.
Take a deep breath in.
Heave a deep breath out.
Shaking fingers unlocked frigid metal. Trembling arms lifted the wooden frame. Cold sweat was cooled down even more by a gentle breeze.
He had done it. He had opened the window. And since he made it this far, he might as well continue.
Gathering the rest of the rope, Timothy threw it out the window. Poking his head out, he saw how it all tumbled down. His heart nearly stopped when he saw it nearly brush the ground.
Even though Timothy was good at math, it was hard for him to measure out how long it was of a drop between his bedroom window to the ground. Especially when his measurements felt off for being larger than usual. Or at least larger for him. So what he did was add more material than not. It was better to be on the safe side after all.
But this was good. It means that Timothy was sure to be able to get in and out. The real test, however, was if everything would actually hold. He was larger now. Heavier. He could get seriously injured if something went wrong.
He then rugged at the rope once more, making sure it was stable.
Timothy took a deep breath.
Timothy began to crawl out the window.
'This is just like getting off the table.' Timothy tried to calm himself. 'You just have to remember this. It's just like the table.'
A particularly strong gust of wind made him swing.
He could feel his heart pounding ever so fast as he began to sweat even more.
"You can do it. Come on, don't be afraid." He whispered to himself even though he had squeezed his eyes shut.
He will get down. Even if it means forcing himself to do so.
And then his feet touched the ground. His shoes softly crunched the grass underneath him. He looked down with wide eyes.
Ever so slowly did he let go of the rope. He was outside.
He was outside.
He was outside.
He was outside!
A wave of unbridled tears flowed down chubby cheeks like waterfalls. He did not care that he was doing such a thing. Timothy had snuck outside!
Wind ruffled his hair. Almost as if it were playing with him. Then he turned his head and his breath caught in his throat. Somehow more tears began to fall.
The flowers in the garden were swaying oh so very gently in the wind. The moonlight illuminated it all, and it reminded him of that day out in Gotham. Because somehow, it was all so reminiscent of a fairytale. The air was… fresh. Just like when the maids had to open the windows for cleaning. The grass was no longer newly cut like it was on his birthday, so he did not smell that in the air. It was, however, cleaner than the air in Gotham. Timothy didn't know how to describe it further than that.
Shakily, Timothy took a step forward. Then another. And another. Until he was walking amongst the garden.
Reaching out, Timothy touched a flower petal. It was… so soft. So velvety. So smooth. Curious, Timothy went over to a different flower. This one was different. It wasn't as soft, or smooth, or velvety as the other one. It's texture was a little firmer, a little rougher, a little bit more fuzzy. Oh so very curious was Timothy. He had to know what other flower's petals felt like. He continued on that fashion, touching all sorts of flowers. But he was careful in doing so. He was afraid what would happen if one of the gardeners were to find any flowers that were tampered with.
Soon enough, his eyes had wandered from the flowers to the trees.
Timothy… wanted to feel tree bark.
Gently letting go of the flower, Timothy started to walk over to the forest. It… felt incredibly nice to walk on the lawn. Crickets were singing, and if Timothy had left earlier, he might've even seen fireflies dance around.
Maybe, if he grew brave enough, or reckless enough (oh he hopes not), he'll go out when the fireflies began to do their dance.
Getting closer to the trees, their long shadows fell upon him. It was cooler, underneath their shade.
Trees that ranged from pine to oak were within the forest, he found. Trees that were native, trees that were nonnative. The smell they gave off was different from what he had experienced, but once he went close to some pine sap, he could really, truly, understand how strong the scent of pine was.
Reaching out, he touched the bark that wasn't covered with sap, feeling how rough and craggy its surface was. Moving his arms, Timothy went to touch the pine needles. One poked his middle finger which caused him to yank his whole arm back. It wasn't sharp, like an actual needle made out of metal, but it hurt. Ever so curious did he look close at the finger.
Not even a spot of blood.
He wandered around the area a little bit more, making sure that his home was still within his eyesight. Soon enough he wanted to lay down. To know what it was like to be on a patch of grass. To be underneath the trees in that way.
So he did. Timothy found a spot that was clear and clean of any animal droppings or even insects, and he laid himself down.
It was… soft. The grass was a tad itchy, and it tried to tickle his skin. His head was cushioned by it, yet the ground was hard. It wasn't even and a little pebbly. But what truly took his breath away was seeing the stars through the canopy.
Eyes wide, he saw how the soft light of the moon trickled through the leaves, and the stars that twinkle in those gaps.
Silently were noises being made. Soft crunches of the ground reached Timothy's ears.
He did not move. He did not breathe. He instinctively settled down, not knowing what to do.
Was it a person? Would Timothy be found? He was still large, and he knew that it wasn't quite average for dolls to be life sized. Or at least that's what he had been told anyways. Not only that, though, would be the fact that he was seemingly abandoned so close to Drake Manor. What would they think of him? What would they do with him?
The soft crunches became louder. Closer. And soon he realized that they didn't quite sound like human footsteps. And how there were multiple of them.
Then, out of nowhere, a fawn's face was above his. It sniffed at him, its snout blowing at his hair. Timothy could see its whiskers. He could see its fur. Its innocent brown eyes, full of curiosity.
And Timothy… was in awe.
Another deer came in to inspect him, one with antlers on its head. A buck. Then another, one without antlers. A doe. Then another, and another, and another.
Some were fawns, some were not. But nonetheless it was a whole herd of deer. All inspecting him. Some even nibbled a little bit of his clothes or his hair.
Timothy would not move. He would not let this simply magical moment end.
But much like everything else wonderful in his life, it ended all too soon. Curiosity sated, the deer left him all alone on the forest floor.
Timothy breathes. Timothy stands up. Timothy goes back to his room. And Timothy… Timothy wants to go out again.
By the time he had put everything away, had shrunken back down to his normal size, and had gone off to bed, plans were forming within his tiny little head. That night, he dreamed of a world just waiting to be discovered.