It was going to happen sooner or later, Bruce reminds himself faintly. He had just hoped it would happen according to their schedule, so that he and the Justice League would have as much time as possible to make their preparations. Now, all preparations are off.
The secret is out.
The headline across the morning news TV show (and probably the headline across every news show and newspaper and online news site in Gotham) blares that the Joker's newly-revealed-to-exist secret identity is that of Jack Drake.
Bruce takes a deep breath, trying to calm the uproar inside himself that probably matches the uproar across Gotham and possibly the greater East Coast. He takes another deep breath, then a third. He looks down and across the couch to where Junior… To where Tim, he wants to be called Tim, Bruce will always honor what he wants… To where Tim is sitting.
To where Tim was sitting.
Tim isn't there.
On one hand, it shocks Bruce. How could Tim have slipped out?
On the other hand? Of course Tim isn't there. Just because Bruce was shocked into silent stillness doesn't mean Tim automatically was. And if Bruce was stuck in shock, that meant Bruce wasn't paying as much attention as he should've been. That would make it far easier for Tim to leave the couch and, upon a quick inspection, to leave the entire living room. But how long was Bruce stuck in his own shock?
Bruce pulls out his phone as he stands. Thumbing it open and ignoring the flashing notifications (because he was right, every news source has caught on to revealing the Joker's identity and everyone is in an uproar), Bruce calls Alfred.
"If you mistakenly believe-" Alfred begins dryly, probably about to scold Bruce for calling by him phone when Bruce "has two fully functioning legs with which to retrieve me, does he not?"
"Joker's been revealed as Jack Drake," Bruce interrupts as he does another quick glance through the living room. "On the news. Tim saw it, and now I can't find him."
"I'll search the first floor," Alfred says immediately.
"I've got second," Bruce says, putting the call on speaker. "Stay on speaker."
"Understood," Alfred says.
At first, Bruce almost assumes that calling Alfred for help will have been a good precaution but an overreaction: Tim can't have gotten far, right? But as Bruce moves efficiently through the Manor, room after room turning up no sign of Tim, he starts to wonder if he's going to need to call for even more help.
Then…
"Ah," Alfred says with clear relief.
Bruce stills in the doorway of the room he's leaving.
"Young master Tim," Alfred says lightly. "Has the main door to the Manor offended you, and you plan to glare it into submission? Or is there another explanation for your current posture and position?"
Tim's at the main door to the Manor.
Bruce moves so fast, he half-wonders if he could put Barry Allen to shame. He's in the entryway in what feels like mere moments, his head spinning with the speed. He's several paces back from Tim, who is staring at the door with what looks half like longing, half like fear.
Tim looks stiff. He doesn't answer Alfred for a long moment.
"Tim?" Bruce prompts.
Tim swallows loudly. Then, much more quietly, he answers, "I want to do what's right."
Bruce looks at Alfred.
Alfred looks back, clearly uncertain. It's a look that doesn't suit him.
"I think we all do," Bruce says. "We all want to do what's right."
"My father doesn't," Tim says.
Bruce winces, feeling a little sick.
"And now everybody knows that," Tim says. "The people know Jack Drake is the Joker is Jack Drake. It's the truth. And once the people know one truth, it isn't long before they start to look for more."
Bruce blinks. Vaguely, he recalls that phrase being at the center of one of Joker's schemes from about two years ago, and he feels a little sicker.
Tim still stares at the front door. "They're going to find out, aren't they."
It's phrased like a question, but it doesn't sound like one.
"Everybody is going to find out. They're going to know everything he did. They're going to know everything I did," Tim murmurs.
"They don't have to," Bruce says, the words rushing out of him. "I can work with Justice League, there are ways we can-"
"They're going to find out," Tim says, trembling a little despite, or maybe because of his stiffness. Then he repeats something he's already said. "They're going to know everything I did. But they're going to know everything he did to me."
Bruce doesn't know what to do with that.
Tim finally turns away from the door. He turns toward Bruce. His eyes are glistening with hurt.
Bruce doesn't quite know what to do with that either.
Tim lifts his stiff hands, slowly at first, then more rapidly, but not to scrub at his wet eyes. He reaches up and out toward Bruce.
That? That, Bruce knows exactly what to do with. He reaches back out toward Tim, stepping forward and pulling Tim into a hug.
"I want to do what's right," Tim says, now wrapped up in the hug but still stiff, still trembling, still so very hurt.
"I know," Bruce says. "I know you do."
"I want to say what's true. I wanna be allowed once, just once in my life, to say the truth," Tim says.
"Okay," Bruce says helplessly. "You're allowed."
Tim sobs and goes trustingly limp against Bruce.
Bruce considers how best to make it happen. There'll have to be press releases, of course, and carefully-constructed backstories. He'll work with the Justice League, and to make sure Tim is safe and healthy and publically well-regarded and at home in Wayne Manor, Bruce will almost certainly be working with the Justice League both as Batman and as Brucie Wayne. It may take a lot of effort, and it may take a little time, and it may even take some bribes if his understanding of Gotham's public services systems is up-to-date, Bruce muses.
But it'll be worth it.
Tim wants it, and it'll be worth it.