Chapter Eight
Stephanie was pacing in the Batcave. She could hear the whisperings of the others in the cave as they watched her. She didn't focus on them. No, her mind was focused on something else entirely. She was focused on why they didn't decide to do anything and just sat around while their son and brother was marching to his death. How could they just sit around? They loved Tim, why wouldn't they try to stop him from doing something stupid?
She froze when a thought crossed her mind. Quickly she shook that out of the realm of possibilities. They didn't want Tim to die. That wasn't the reason why they didn't do anything. Her brain churned for a few more moments before coming up with her answer.
They wanted Tim to succeed. They wanted him to come back with Damian in tow. They wanted their baby back, as much as Damian would protest it.
Stephanie's pacing resumed. Talia would do anything to stop Tim, she knew. They only had to get to Gotham and they would be relatively safe. Sneaky assassins were always managing to find their way into the city despite the vigilance of the vigilantes. But they would be protected here.
She walked to the corner of the cave that held all of their uniforms. The Red Robin suit still stood there standing tall. Tim's OCD kept the entire locker clean and orderly, despite the fact that he wasn't there often. Even Bruce's locker wasn't as orderly as Tim's.
She would be lying if she said that she didn't worry about him.
She worried a little about everyone. It was a part of the job, a part of being in the family. But there was a special place inside of her that had long been suppressed and she could feel as it tried to break free again.
A hand rested on her shoulder and she jumped a little. She turned to see Jason standing there.
"Whadaya want Jason?" She asked turning back to look at Tim's locker. She blinked tears out of her eyes.
"Listen Blondie, I realize that I might be the black sheep here, and therefore should not be giving advice, but you need to talk about this to someone."
"Who? Bruce is brooding, Dick hasn't gotten any rest hardly since this ordeal began, Barbara is working overtime on the computers to try and find just where on the world Tim might be, and Cass doesn't know about it and neither does anyone else outside of this family. I don't really think that talking is an option for me."
"You could talk to me." He offered.
Steph snorted. "Right, cause you'd listen to a poor girl's woes."
Jason's hand removed itself from her shoulder and Steph expected him to walk away from her to leave her to her own thoughts. Instead he sat in his little locker-cubby and crossed his arms.
"Try me."
"I wouldn't even know where to begin," Steph sighed.
"Why don't you start with that you still have feelings for Tim?"
Steph looked with shock at Jason's face. The biting smirk wasn't there. A softer smile was there instead, a knowing smile. Her heart did a little flip-flopping as she allowed the thought to sink into her brain. Was she still in love with Tim?
"It's a long story."
"I've got nothin' better to do."
Damian was wrestling with these new ideas in his head. Drake thought of him as a little brother? Even after all of the shit that Damian did to him? For all purposes Drake should hate his guts and not be cuddling with him. He repressed a shudder. Drake was still clutching him like a ragdoll. Damian never realized that Drake was as much of a sentimental fool as Grayson.
Little brother.
He couldn't shake those two little words. Was he really? Grayson had the qualifications to fall into the brother category, but Drake? There was no affection shared between the two, except for the glomp of a hug that he was ensnared in at the moment.
Little brother.
What was a brother? Biologically, it was two of the male species that shared DNA from the same mother or father. But was it possible that someone could be brother's without sharing that key piece of genetic material? Grayson seemed to think so. Yet, Grayson seemed to be in love with his cereal too, so his viewpoint was invalid.
Could Drake have come to see him as a brother too? No, that wasn't possible. Drake still didn't like him. Brothers are supposed to love each other and he most certainly didn't love Drake. He had some admiration for going behind enemy lines to raise his sorry butt from the dead, but that was it.
Little brother.
Finally Damian resolved to ask Drake just what that meant. He jabbed his elbow into Drake's ribs and instantly Drake was awake and pushing himself in front of Damian.
"What the hell?" Drake asked once he saw that there was no danger.
"I demand to know something," Damian retorted standing.
"Well I would like a hot shower." Drake said settling back against the wall. "What is it that you needed to know this moment?"
"What constitutes a person as a brother?"
Drake thought for a moment. "Well, usually they love each other."
"Then by very definition we are not brothers, since I hold no affection for you whatsoever." Damian crossed his arms over his chest.
"You didn't let me finish. I said usually. There are cases where they don't always get along and fight each other over simple things. But that doesn't change the fact that they're brothers."
Damian failed to see the point. He raised an eyebrow to convey this message.
Drake sighed. "Look, it's hard to explain. It's like this, you don't like me, but there are times where you would stick your neck out for me and vice versa despite that. You may not consider that you would do this for me, but I did for you. So consider that next time you want to gut me. The simple fact is that we're brothers, dysfunctional yes, but brothers. So you're stuck with me Demon Spawn, get used to it."
Damian wanted very much to punch Drake for his answer. Because in a way, it made sense.
The rest of the ride over to the United States went uneventfully. Tim and Damian didn't really speak after that. They didn't need to. Everything that they needed to know was told through their body language and simple gestures. Their brains were busy trying to figure out their own problems. Damian was focused on figuring out why Drake was his brother. Tim needed to figure out how to get the last twelve miles to Wayne Manor without alerting press or undercover operatives to their position.
Above deck one crewman was still wrestling with if he should risk using the satellite phone without the captain's permission. It hadn't been hard to really determine that the two in the shipping crate was really the Wayne boys. One look at them after seeing the news cast was all it took to confirm it.
It was the last day of the voyage. He'd finally decided that he was going to phone his employers. It wasn't a direct line to the head, but the news would get to the right people. He was only an intern, if that was the right word for whatever he was.
Sneaking into the captain's cabin he prepared what he was going to say for the shortest call possibly in his life.
"We've got a lead Princess." He said running into the room.
Talia only scribbled more words onto the paper that she was writing. Leads could be something or be nothing, it all depended.
"Speak." She didn't look up from her writing.
"A boy matching Drake's description was seen paying for passage to America. There was a younger boy with him as well."
"Where are they set to land?"
"Twelve miles from Gotham. Blüdhaven ports."
A small smile graced her lips. "Ready the unit in Blüdhaven. Let the hunting begin."
Tim knew that they were getting close to the ports. His cell phone signal had been gaining more bars for the past few hours. When he had enough he made a call and left a couple messages. Local police saying that there were smugglers boarding at their docks with humans inside. Then he called various family voicemails, but Damian couldn't hear what he was saying, Tim had been very careful to keep those conversations hush-hush.
The boat was rocking back and forth a bit more erratically now. Tim guessed that they were nearing the ports and the rocking was the wakes from other ships. They were so close now. Once on shore twelve more miles and everything could be behind them.
"Are you ready for this?" Tim asked. It was the first time that they had really spoken to each other in a while, since the whole brother conversation occurred.
Damian gave his usual non-commental verbal tic. Tim took that as a yes. He didn't know when they were going to be docking in the port, but he felt that it was an appropriate time to at least gather all of the things they had. Which wasn't much.
Throwing a couple shirts in the bag and setting the flashlight on top was all they had to do.
Now it was back to sitting and waiting.
"What do you want to do when you get back to the Manor?" Tim asked, unable to handle the silence for much longer.
Damian snorted. "Evade Grayson's arms. If he catches me, he'll never let go."
A smile twitched on Tim's face. "At least they'll welcome you back. I'm going to be grounded for life."
"You don't even live there anymore."
"Let me rephrase that. They're going to lock me in the cave and never let me out of their sights ever again."
Damian snorted again. "They should've done that years ago."
The jab didn't find its mark. In actuality he was surprised that Damian didn't continue the jab. Was it possible that the kid was softening his attitude towards him? Quickly he brushed it off. There was no way that the kid would really come to care for him.
Tim watched Damian for a little bit. His face was scrunched together like he was trying to think of some answer to something he didn't know. And if there was one thing that Damian prided himself on, other than being the true heir, was his ability to outsmart people.
"What's got your head in knots?"
"None of your business. Leave me alone, or I'll break your face." Damian didn't look up, nor did any muscle change from its position after he finished speaking.
Tim suppressed a smirk. The kid really needed to get more creative with his threats. Using the same threats over and over again without following through lost the threatening aspect of it. Maybe the kid should hang out with Jason to expand that threat library. Tim was sure that that would be a great idea.
Tim checked the time on his phone again, before turning it off and taking the battery out of the back. After a moment he also took out the memory card and slipped it in his back pocket. Tossing the rest of his phone's parts into his bag he rested against the wall behind him and settled for another wait.
"Is my jet ready?" She asked.
"Yes, princess. The fuel tanks are filled and the pilot's already in the cockpit with the engine's warming up."
"Good. I wish to get there before my son and Drake arrive. My intention is to be there when we apprehend them." Talia walked out of the room leaving behind a bag upon the floor for her attendant to pick up and take out to her plane.
Talia pulled her leather gloves tight against her hand and made a fist, the leather rubbing against itself. Her heels clicked against the tiles on the floor as she made her way out of the hangar to her jet. If all went well, as it should, she should get there in a few hours with time to spare before their ship pulled into the dock.
She climbed onto the plane and settled into her seat. Her bag was dropped gently next to her and the attendant retreated into her quarters.
Talia was left to ponder her thoughts as the plane took off into the air westward.
Could it be possible she had underestimated just how far Mr. Drake would go to please his adopted father? To had she allowed it to happen because Damian was her son and it had pained her to put him through that pain? No, that couldn't be the answer. Damian wasn't her son anymore.
She had declared him an enemy and that was practically the same thing.
She needed to formulate a plan. Separate the two on the run, then dispose of them. The older one first, though he wouldn't be much of a problem with his injury. Then she could focus on all attention to Damian. There was one thing that she had to decide though, would she have him eliminated once again, or could she recondition him back to what she wanted without ever letting her beloved knowing that Drake had succeeded in his quest.
She could get her little boy back.
She ignored that small fluttering in her heart.
Alfred knocked politely against the oak door. He waited only a few moments out of consideration before he walked into the room.
"Master Bruce?" He asked.
Bruce's head shot up from the desktop, hair cow licked against one side of his head.
"It was Flash," he mumbled.
"Yes, I'm sure it was Master Bruce, but there is something that needs your attention at the moment sir." He held out the letter in his hand.
"What's this, Alfred?"
"Young Master Tim it appears was having a small crisis about his place in his family." Alfred maintained his standing position as Bruce began to read the letter.
His hands shook as he read the letter. Whether it was from the content in the letter for from the lack of sleep and the stress of the situation that they are in, Alfred wasn't sure. But both were affecting the man whom he had come to see as his son in some ways. When he finally finished reading it he looked at Alfred.
"What does this mean?"
"I think that we need to reaffirm young Master Tim's belief of belonging into this family. It's quite possible because now he's a middle child he may be feeling left out of the love," Alfred said loosening up a little.
"How so?" Bruce asked sitting down on his bed.
"When was the last time that the two of you actually did something together that didn't have to with your night work? When was the last time you did something fun with him, with any of your boys?"
Bruce opened his mouth to answer when he realized that he didn't remember the last time he had taken the time to do anything with his boys in a long time. Before this fiasco, the last time they were together was at Damian's funeral, and before that, well he didn't remember. He would take Dick and Jason individually to baseball games when they lived with him, but he couldn't remember if he had done anything with Tim.
"What should I do?"
"Tell him you love him, show him you love him. Never let him go. Don't let any of your sons go."
Bruce stood up and walked over to his butler. For only a moment he rested a hand on Alfred's shoulder, then he surrounded the older man in a large hug. Alfred hesitantly wrapped his arms around Bruce.
"What would I do without you Alfred?" Bruce muttered, mostly to himself.
"I dare say that you would have starved long ago. You are a horrible cook."
For a moment in midst of everything, Bruce let out a small laugh.
A/N: I was going to say that Tim was gonna be locked in the closet, but then I actually thought about it. Whoops. And Bruce would totally starve to death, cause he wouldn't be able to cook a thing. And finding relevant quotes are hard.
So, leave a review, please.