Hey I'm back! Yeah, it took a bit, but I was finally able to figure out exactly what I wanted to do with this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!
Each night Timothy snuck out. It became his new routine. Wait until the mansion was empty, grew big, and left. And each night he went a little further into the woods, hoping to see the deer again. And each night, his time grew longer.
For a little while he was okay with this. But his heart's true desire was to go into Gotham. And so he began to act out his new plan. Once he was satisfied with his timeframe of growth.
Timothy grabbed the plainest set of clothing his mother had bought to put on. He was quite glad to nab it when he did, for the very next day his mother ordered the maids to get rid of all the clothing that 'no longer fit him.' He was actually quite glad that he managed to nab as much clothing as he did.
Unfortunately Timothy knew that these clothes would not fit him for long. He was a growing boy, and he was sure that his large state would grow alongside him. He will have to have a plan in order to get himself new clothing. Timothy was a smart boy after all. He would figure things out.
Or at least, he hoped he would.
Once he was done putting his clothes on, Timothy reached for a medium sized (or at least medium sized in his grown hand) pouch that he had made from blankets he had no use for. Within that pouch were items that Timothy's little house no longer needed… as well as some items around the house proper that he was sure no one would miss. Just the small stuff. He just hopes that his mother would not notice the missing items once she came back with his father.
If things go according to plan, then Timothy would have money for his… adventures. The only downside is how would Timothy be able to continue doing such things in the future. He cannot continue this in case someone catches on. But he supposed that he would cross that bridge when he gets to it.
Unfortunately the only dent in his plan was a mode of transportation. He supposed that the only thing he could do, before being able to get some sort of ride, is to walk to and from Gotham proper.
Timothy felt that, should he not reach Gotham by his halfway mark, he would turn back and head back home.
With this in mind, Timothy began his plan.
He threw his makeshift rope out of the window once more. Then, making sure his pouch was secured in his pocket, Timothy began to descend.
It was less windy that night. Timothy was actually quite happy not to sway as much as the previous week. Truly it was a blustery week, that week. He felt like he would've nearly fell over just by standing!
As interesting as how the experience was, Timothy didn't want to go out on such a day at his usual size. He feared he might be blown away.
But that was neither here nor there. Timothy had to focus on getting down the rope…
And getting to Gotham.
Touching down onto the grass, Timothy silently sighed a breath of relief. He had made it down. A quick check to his pouch was in order, however.
Giving it a quick pat showed that, yes, it was still there. Timothy was the type of child who wanted to make sure that everything was in order. So, he took it out, and with a quick glance, he saw how it was all still in the bag. He gave a small smile of satisfaction from this.
Looking back up, Timothy worried about the window… and the rope. He worried that someone would try to enter the house. That his mother and father find out that a window had been open for quite some time without any supervision.
And yet, no one has ever tried to rob the house. And his parents haven't come home… so. With that, Timothy decided that until he either learns of a way to make a ladder or an easier way to sneak out and back in, this would have to do.
With a quick nod to himself, Timothy ran to the forest. From there he would walk over to the road.
It was a cloudy night, so the lighting was less than desirable. However Timothy had been exploring the forest between properties for quite a time now. He knew a fair bit of the land. Even then he was still careful as to where he stepped. He didn't want to trip. It wouldn't do well if he got himself injured after all.
By the time Timothy managed to get to the road, he became nervous. So many things could go wrong. Death was mostly at the end of them. Punishment was at the end of others.
Steeling his nerves, Timothy started walking.
It's been a good few years since Timothy first made his outing to Gotham. And he had continued to go out ever since.
Gotham… Gotham was awesome. In all senses of the word. It was grand. Beautiful. It was hideous. It was disgusting. It was kind. It was harsh.
It had Batman and Robin.
Oh little Timothy's heart and eyes grew wide with wonder when he was told of the duo's names. After that Timothy really did everything within his power to find out about that duo…
And along the way Timothy learned about The Flying Graysons with their special flip…
And their son…
Who became Bruce Wayne's ward…
And then everything made sense.
At some point, even though he couldn't quite remember when this had happened, Timothy got his hands on a camera. It might've been with the help of the kind woman who gave him rides to and from Gotham. It could've been something he did all by himself.
But no matter what, Timothy found himself with a camera. And not long after he was able to get the bat's routes down.
This was the start of Timothy's bat and bird watching.
Unfortunately the dilemma of how to develop the pictures, as well as hiding them away, came into the scene.
Timothy was a smart boy. He did his research on developing photographs. And he found multiple places to hide such things from not only his parents, but the staff that had the potential to snoop.
That isn't to say that Ms. Mac would do such a thing.
It's the thought that counts.
Timothy… overall he loved going out into Gotham. It made him… feel things he couldn't quite describe. He doesn't think he could ever truly describe them if he was being honest.
What he did know, however, how sad and confused he was when he found out that Dick no longer was Robin. One day he just disappeared. But with a little digging he found that Dick had become Nightwing, and that he had moved to Blüdhaven.
And then Bruce Wayne took in another boy.
Who was the new Robin.
Who was at the party his parents were throwing.
Timothy hadn't been this nervous since the last time his parents threw a party and had invited Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson… a year after he found out their identities.
Of course he did what he always did during parties. Dressed up nice, and sat prettily in his chair, away from it all. So that if anyone were to go… explore Drake Manor, they would find a little doll and not a little boy.
Just in case.
It has happened with children multiple times before.
He nearly broke every time.
Mother did say that children were cruel.
And yet he has seen glimpses of kind children. Hurt children.
Surely this means that not all children would be cruel.
But still he sat, far away from it all, on his chair. Thinking about when the party was over and his parents would be gone, he would go out to Gotham. Thinking about taking photos…
And heard footsteps.
Immediately he tried to make his breathing even more minimal. Forced his heart to beat ever so slowly. Make his smile so fake it was real.
He would not move.
The door to his room creaked open.
Someone was here.
He heard them breathe as they slowly shuffled inside.
"Huh." A strange, young, voice muttered. "A doll house. Not like that's fucking weird as hell or anything."
The person swore?
Completely baffled by the language Timothy almost didn't hear the person come up to his house. Almost.
Small tremors trembled the house as the person fiddled with it. Most likely looking for the clasp.
Everyone who ever finds him gets the house open eventually.
Curious as to who it would be, Timothy continued to stare ahead with a little bit more attention than usual. It certainly wasn't an adult. The voice was much too young. Not to mention it was usually the children who were brought over that always found him.
Click when the clasp. And then the house split… carefully?
No one opened his house that slowly before.
A boy a few years or so older than Timothy stood there. Black hair, blue eyes, freckles, a suit that fit the occasion… another new child.
Who was he?
"Huh." The boy said again. His eyes were staring at Timothy. Timothy was staring at him.
He could see curiosity written all over the boy's face. It was like looking at an open picture book. But he could also see hesitation. Why would the boy be hesitating? Perhaps he knew he wasn't supposed to be here? That he could be punished?
Not every child that found him was punished. Maybe this one would be.
Timothy felt a twang of sympathy for the boy. Going through punishments were never fun, but were a necessity.
They needed to be reminded of their place after all.
(Although perhaps the boy was a bit like him. Exploring was rather fun, and if so, then he desperately hoped the boy wouldn't get caught.)
Finally the boy did what all children do when they come across young Timothy. He went to pick him up.
Timothy was prepared for this. He would not cry out. He would not wince. He would endure any attempts to break him beyond his limits.
Children were cruel to dolls after all. Dolls do not feel so they do not complain. If dolls do not complain then the children would continue until the dolls have been destroyed.
And then the children would be given a new doll.
A gentle, soft, touch nearly made him jolt.
The boy's surprisingly large hands held Timothy in a… not tight hold? But it wasn't loose either?
Faint memories of how his last nanny held him emerged in his mind.
The boy was… being kind to Timothy?
Why?
His limbs dangled as he was moved into a better grip. But still not hurting.
"You're soft?" The boy asked quietly. It registered that he had an accent of some sort.
Timothy was soft.
A finger poked his hair. A snort. "Your hair feels super fake with gel though."
His hair did have gel in it. It must look nice for special events.
"… the Drakes must've paid a lot of money to make you look this real." Timothy caught a glimpse of a frown.
…it finally clicked that the boy was… talking to Timothy. Why?
Who was this boy? Why was he so… so… strange.
None of the other children talked to him.
"Ya know, between you and me, I hate this type of shit." The boy continued. "Throwing money around to show what they can get that no one else can. Makes me fucking sick. This whole party makes me wanna puke."
It clicked. He sounded like the people from Crime Alley.
"Them Ritchy Rich folks can suck it. Well, except for Bruce. I think he's genuinely trying." The boy then scoffed. "But he sure as hell has a long way to go. I think I can get him to practically cut his own salary in half by the end of the year. Would certainly help with giving money to those who need it."
It was Jason Todd. Jason Todd was holding him. Robin was holding him.
Timothy had to do everything within his power not to do anything. He just… just couldn't pop to life and say 'I'm your biggest fan!' Or something crazy like that. That would… would be just… just… oh he couldn't even put it into words. Oh he was a mess, just a mess.
He just hoped that Jason didn't notice it.
"But I dunno if you know any of that. Yer just a doll yeah?"
For some reason his heart dropped at that. But Jason was correct. He was just a doll.
But at the same time he was wrong. Timothy wasn't a doll. He was a boy. A human.
Jason hummed. "Ya know, I think I know a lot of kids who would like to play with you. I'm sure you don't get to have a lot of fun here. I wouldn't be surprised if you never left this room."
Even though Jason thought Timothy was a doll, he was still talking to him.
Why?
Jason Todd was such a strange boy.
Then Jason held Timothy closer to his face. Timothy could see the little green flakes in Jason's eyes. The way the boy furrowed his eyebrows. How he frowned.
"I bet you don't get much love here huh? Rich people don't really give a shit for their stuff other than they have it. Kinda like dragons and their hoarding shit." Jason poked Timothy's cheek and startled. "Yer warm."
Timothy's heart could've stopped.
Please don't realize Timothy's real. Please don't realize Timothy's real. Please don't realize Timothy's real. Please don't realize Timothy is real.
Mother and father wouldn't like it if they found out that someone had found Timothy without their permission. And never, ever, was it a child.
"What are you doing." Mother's frigid voice cut through.
Jason tensed. But he didn't squeeze Timothy. No, instead Timothy was pulled towards Jason's chest.
Slowly, Jason turned around.
Timothy didn't need to see his mother to know that she was staring at them with ire.
All was silent. Mother never did like to repeat herself.
"I was exploring." Jason finally spoke.
"I can clearly see that." Oh his mother was truly upset. "Let me see what you have there."
Instantly Jason bristled. "I ain't stealing anything!" He hissed. But he still pulled Timothy away from him. Timothy let his head lull as he faced his mother.
Her eyes were sharp. Her eyes could slash. Timothy was in trouble. He was always in trouble when the children found him.
"Give it to me." She said.
…
…
…
Mother called him an it? Mother had never done that before.
"I ain't hurting him or nothin'." Jason called him a him. But why did he say hurting? Didn't he think Timothy was a doll?
Mother laughed at the statement. "Silly boy, it's just a doll. Dolls don't get hurt." Her eyes then focused onto Timothy. "Broken, on the other hand, they very much could be. Now. Give it back to me before you shatter it all over the floor."
Jason flinched. Sympathy grew even more. Jason was probably not used to being punished.
However, despite how Timothy should be used to his mother's punishments, this one felt… worse than usual.
Was it because mother called him an it?
Why wasn't Jason giving him back to his mother?
"You really don't have a lot of faith in a lot of people do you?" Jason asked.
Oh. Oh dear. He shouldn't have said that.
Mother became absolutely cold. "My little doll there cost me more than you could ever understand. You must get it into your head; how I do not wish to get something like it to be destroyed in the hands of someone who doesn't even know its worth." She spoke slowly. Deliberately. She was chaisting Jason.
"Now." She held out her hand. "Give it to me."
Jason didn't. Why wasn't he? Then, probably realizing that he was in a losing battle, he walked to Timothy's mother. Timothy was being handed over.
"I think a doll that is as realistic as that is wasted on someone as fake as you." Was the last thing Jason said before he walked away.
Timothy… stayed silent.
Mother fumed.
He knows he would be punished so much for what he was going to do but…
"He didn't hurt me." Timothy whispered.
Mother's grip hurt.
"And what." Mother ground out. "Could you possibly mean by that?"
He didn't tremble in her grasp.
"He held me gently. He wasn't going to drop me."
Mother didn't like that. She held him up to her face. Timothy nearly trembled.
"You do realize," she began, "that you have disobeyed me."
Bright red nails poked sharply at his cheek. The same one that Jason had touched. "You had spoken while you were to be settled down. You must be punished."
Timothy would not cry. He was to be punished anyway. But he had to let her know.
Smoothly did his mother walk over to his house. She opened a door, he could hear it, and the next thing he knew, Timothy was in a closet.
"Your proper punishment will start once the party is done." Mother said as she had him stand perfectly within the closet. There was nothing inside except for him. "Until then stay in there and think about what you have done."
She closed the door.
The house shook.
A click.
"Remember, my doll, what you are to others." Mother's muffled voice told him.
And then she was gone.
Timothy was awful for talking. He shouldn't have… he… he…
Mother called him an it. Because to everyone else he was to be a doll.
Maybe… maybe to make mother happy he should…
An involuntary shiver ran down his spine.
Maybe when he gained enough courage he would start calling himself an it whenever he was settled down. But for now, he was still a he because… because…
Because that's what Jason called him.
Timothy thinks that Jason is a very kind boy.