Disclaimer – You recognise it, I don't own it.
1234567890
Tim had settled himself in his office chair.
"Okay," Kon looked at Tim, "Just how much of that was bull?"
"'Bout fifty, fifty." Tim shrugged, as he rustled through the papers on his desk, "Bart, can you ask Tam for a laptop for me?"
"Here." Bart held out a laptop in a case, "She had one prepped to your specs."
"Good." Tim nodded, "I can set up the rest."
"What didn't you say?" Kon returned to the topic.
"I got out on my own." Tim shrugged, "Pru found me passed out on a rooftop. Not the first time I've done that. Probably won't be the last."
"No… You call me next time." Kon was firm.
"I was about to." Tim confessed, "I just… I passed out first."
"Not surprising." Bart put in, "You can't have been in a good condition. I haven't see you that bad before…"
"This bad." Kon confirmed, "You really got away?"
"Yeah. One of them… He wanted me to himself… I was fairly out of it, but I was aware enough to realize it was my best shot."
"Tim…" Kon's voice was low, "You said they didn't…"
"And they didn't. Doesn't mean they didn't talk about it. Doesn't mean they didn't try. But you really think I was going to let them?"
"No." Bart sighed, "You'd fight. No matter what. And we'll be there for you. No matter what."
"Yeah. We've got your back… We don't work without the SuperEgo." Kon added, "But you are not going back to the Perch. Not in this condition."
"Wasn't planning on it." Tim returned, "I knew you guys would never let me. So I've got a plan."
"Of course you do." Bart grinned, "You always do. Nothing to do with the Bats?"
"They don't need me. They don't want me." Tim was blunt, "And until I'm capable again, it's best I stay away. Safer. Besides I can run pretty much everything from computers, until I'm up to it. Natch."
"Natch." Bart agreed.
"Tim," The door opened and Lucius Fox was standing there, "I heard you were back."
"Tam told you." Tim smiled, "Is there anything you need me for, Lucius?"
"No. I just wanted to check you were okay."
"I'm as good as I can be." Tim returned, "Is there anything on the books?"
"Nothing you need to concern yourself about." Lucius shook his head, "Tam's set you up with a new laptop?"
"Of course."
"I'll send you all the files to update you on what's happened. Do we need to take any security measures here?"
"Lock down the security on Padua. If necessary put a security detail on every person involved. Or even sort out hotel accommodation, so that they're safe. They want this system bad. I want it finished as quickly as possible. Then we can get it out of here and to the DoD. Then it's safe."
"How long do you think it'll take?" Lucius frowned, "It wasn't up for testing last time I looked."
"It wasn't far off." Tim shrugged, "I'll check on the details once I'm set up."
"That's okay then. You focus on getting better though Tim. You've been looking rundown for a while. Get your rest. You need it."
"I'll be fine Lucius. You hold down the fort here. You need me, call."
"I will." Lucius stepped forward and pulled Tim into a loose hug, "Anything you need, you tell me. You're important to me. I missed you. I was so worried about you."
"I'm okay. Don't worry about me, Lucius. You know I'm a survivor."
"You always have been. That doesn't mean I don't worry about you. Again, you need anything you call me."
"I will." Tim agreed, "I'd best be going, Lucius."
"You need to get off your feet, of course." Lucius smiled, "Look after him, you two. I'm entrusting him into your care."
"We understand." Kon and Bart chorused.
"Good." Lucius shrugged, "Take care, Tim. I'll see you soon."
"Got everything Tim?" Kon asked.
"Everything from here." Tim stated, "Just need to pick up some changes of clothes, check in with my home computer and I'm set."
123456789
Montoya and Allen were still filing the reports from the hospital visit when they heard hurried footsteps across the bullpen.
They looked up to see Grayson descending upon them.
"Where is he?!" Grayson demanded.
"Due to confidentiality," Montoya was terse, "All I can say is that he is safe and he is where he has chosen to be."
"He's my brother."
"And that is why I can tell you that he is safe."
"He's just a kid!"
"He's an emancipated minor. That makes him autonomous. And before you protest that, remember that you let him become CEO of a Fortune 500 company. You never objected before."
"But he's hurt!"
"And he knows that. He also knows that you know that. And he's choosing to stay away from you. I think that says a lot about the sort of relationship you have with him."
"He's my little brother. I love him."
"If that's how you treat someone you love, I'm glad you don't love me. Piece of advice, Grayson, let him go. You've damaged him enough. He's learned enough not to come crawling back for whatever scraps of affection you're willing to toss him."
That blow hit. Montoya watched with satisfaction as Grayson visibly flinched; his eyes showing pain, embarrassment and shame.
"He's still my brother. I want to know where he is."
"We don't know." Allen put in, "He wouldn't tell us where he was going. Only that he'd stay in country."
"And you let him go?! He was tortured! He was hurt!"
"He was upright and mobile." Montoya returned, "Besides he had two friends with him. Conner and Bart."
Some of the tension left Dick's body. He knew that the pair wouldn't allow any harm to come to Tim if they could help it.
"Tell me he's safe." Dick pleaded, "Tell me he's alright."
"He's alive… He's safe, for now. But I don't think he'll ever be alright. Not anymore… I don't think he was alright even before all of this… You damaged him, Grayson. Unfortunately I don't think you were the first to do so."
"What are you talking about? Timmy wasn't damaged. A little strange. Always. But he's Timmy. He rebounds from everything."
"Not this. Give him what he needs. Right now, he needs space. Leave him alone. Let him go, Grayson. Let him be his own person. Not whoever you think he should be."
"Go home, Grayson." Allen put in, "You're done for the day. And in my opinion? You Waynes never deserved Tim. He's given you everything and you gave him nothing. Don't go mourning what you never appreciated."
Dick found himself standing in shock in the middle of the bullpen. People milling around him.
"Romy," Montoya turned to her fellow detective, "You still got that Cold Case file we were talking about the other day?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Think I've got a lead. Ties in with our case. He was the chauffeur."
"Drake was Chen Rong? He's not even Chinese."
"Go figure. But he said he was good friends with Spenser."
"Wonder if he knew about the aliases?"
"Aliases?"
Oh, like Dick was going anywhere now! He had a name and a link to Tim's abductors. Dick moved across the bullpen and pulled himself into the shadows. He knew that anyone who saw him wouldn't think he was trying to hide, but that it was equally unlikely that anyone would actually notice him.
"Yeah, turns out that Jacob Spenser was a doctor. PhD not MD."
"Uh-oh." Eyes flickered towards the looming building in the distance.
Fair was fair. Arkham Asylum had the largest concentration of PhDs in the whole of Gotham by population. They were just mostly crazy.
"No!" Romy laughed, "Nothing like that. Turns out he had multiple doctorates in Art, History and Architecture. From what the guys at the University told me, he was like five of the top ten experts in his field. First guy to be called to authenticate a new painting. But the one guy you didn't want to call. He could just look at a painting and tell if it was a forgery. Never wrong."
"Drake did say he was an Art fan." Montoya snorted.
"Jacob Spenser wasn't even his real name!" Romy snorted, "He was Jacob Stone from Oklahoma. Son of a construction worker. Took his mother's maiden name when he left."
"Why'd he leave?"
"Considering we found records giving him an IQ of 190… His father thought he was an idiot. With nothing to contribute but his brawn."
"Ah…" Montoya blinked, "Drake declared that he was the reason he passed English Lit. or History."
"Considering everything else, we were betting on the father being oblivious."
"Genius intellect. Ignorant parents… You sure he wasn't an Arkhemite?"
"Nah. Made enough money legitimately. And didn't seem to have any twisted tendencies. Worst thing he ever did, as far as I can tell, was write one published paper where he only referenced papers written by his other aliases. Unless you got anything?"
"No. But he got along with Drake. Met at a Classic Car Show."
"Go figure. Apart from that, he got in the occasional bar fight. But nothing serious. Most people described him as a touch simple with a good heart. Bit of a womaniser. Loyal to his friends. Generally reserved, didn't give much of himself away. Few sightings of him with a younger man. Most people assumed it was his brother."
"Most likely Drake."
"Most likely. Problem is that most of our background work is useless for you. This case is focused on Drake."
"But the forensics might help us. Plus we have photo ID kits to work with. Hopefully they won't all come back to the dead bodies in the warehouse."
"And we have an alias." Allen put in, "Phobos. Torturer. Likes fire."
Dick stilled. He could connect the dots. Tim had been burned. Most likely badly. They needed access to the medical file.
"Okay," Romy nodded, "You run with that. I'll get the files from storage. Let's play snap. See what matches."
Dick slipped out of the room. He had all the information that he was likely to get right then.
And he'd also left a few bugs behind. Just in case.
123456789
"He's okay?" Jason's whole body was filled with tension as he looked at Dick, "You saw him, right?"
He wasn't the only one. Each of the Bats was just as tense and desperate for answers from the oldest Robin.
Even Alfred was letting some of his nerves show through his usually impeccable veneer of calm and English Stoicism.
"No." Dick shook his head, "He had already gone when I got there. But he was with Kon and Bart. So we know he's safe. As to okay… I don't think so. Montoya and Allen were talking as if there was some permanent damage. Not just physical. But mental as well… I don't know if he's still our Timmy… Or if he will ever be again."
"Tt. That is presuming he is still ours." Damian pointed out, "Drake has been ostracized from this family for so long that he may not wish to return."
That was a truth that none of them wanted to acknowledge. A possibility that none of them desired, but still had nightmares about.
"I did get a name for the man in the photographs." Dick declared, "Jacob Stone. Although he's been working under the name Jacob Spencer. Murdered about the time Tim got grabbed."
"On it!" Babs announced, "I'll get the Birds to check him out. Just in case he helped set Tim up. Although looking at the notes from the interview, Tim didn't think so."
"Follow that lead," Bruce instructed, "We'll work the case from this end. Anything useful in the notes?"
Dick knew what Bruce was fishing for… Details on exactly what had happened to Tim.
"Nothing on Tim's condition." Babs replied, "Just a reference to a Medical File. Most likely being kept on paper at the moment. I'll need someone to actually retrieve it. There is one odd thing… Tim apparently made a reference to a story: Sixty Million Trillion Combinations. Apparently, it was how he set an even more ridiculously long password than seventy eight letters."
"Oh my," Alfred's voice was almost reverential, "I certainly never considered that to be Master Tim's method. However, it most decidedly makes sense."
"Alfred?" Bruce turned to his pseudo-father.
"Master Jason," Alfred turned to the former street-rat, "The book on Master Tim's bookshelf that contained a bookmark, was it The Banquets of the Black Widowers?"
"Yes." Jason nodded.
"Did you perhaps peruse the story marked by the bookmark, Master Jason?" Alfred pressed.
"No." Jason frowned, "Why?"
"I am of the belief that it would have been the aforementioned story."
"Alfred," Bruce interjected, "Clearly the rest of us are missing something. Could you please elaborate?"
"The Black Widowers is a series of short stories, Master Bruce," Alfred explained, "Each being a self-contained mystery. The Sixty Million Trillion Combinations is a story where, as one of the characters puts it, the Black Widowers have to be the Wise Men of Nebuchadnezzar the Second. They have to deduce how a password was cracked, but are not told the password. The password in that situation was fourteen letters long, hence the name of the story."
"And did they?" Steph demanded.
"Indeed they did, Miss Stephanie," Alfred announced, "The password was an Acrostic. Taking the first letter of each line of a sonnet."
"A sonnet being fourteen lines long." Jason breathed, "So what poem is seventy eight letters long?"
"A Psalm." Dick realized, "They vary in length. And the bookmark was a Psalm."
"None of the Psalms are seventy eight lines long, Dickie-bird." Babs replied, "However, Psalm Seventy Eight is Seventy Two lines long."
"Then the Hebrew written beside the Psalm in the Bible," Jason sighed, "Would be what comes first. He even referenced in on his wall! The personalised number-plate."
"He gave us all the clues." Dick breathed, "We just failed to put them together."
"You mean I did." Jason corrected, "I missed the first clue. I didn't read the book."
"We all knew which book had the marker in it." Bruce pointed out, "We all could have checked out the contents. The fault does not lie with you, Jason. Laying blame does not help right now. What matters is making sure that Tim is alright. Finding the people behind it. And making sure it never happens again."
"I don't know where he's gone." Dick stated, "He wouldn't tell the detectives."
"We have a lead." Babs countered, "Name: Phobos. Torturer."
"Likes fire." Dick's voice was hollow.
"That's pretty specific." Jason pulled on his jacket, "Reckon I'll hit the streets. Should be able to rustle some intel up."
"Anything else?" Bruce pressed gently, easily seeing the distress of his eldest.
"Nothing I gathered." Dick shrugged helplessly.
"I've got a few things." Babs interjected, "Tim's claiming a Prudence rescued him."
"She is in the employ of Grandfather." Damian stated, "I do not believe that she would rescue Drake without direction from him."
"You might be wrong." Steph frowned, "I've seen her before. Bald. Not much of a voice. She may be part of the League of Assassins, but she came to warn Tim about the threat against all of us. And she came with her guns empty. Her loyalty isn't just to the Demon's Head. Somewhere along the line, Tim got a portion of it… Though I don't know why."
"While searching for me," Bruce spoke softly, "Tim spent a good portion of time amongst the League of Assassins."
"Voluntarily?" Jason fell back into a chair in shock.
"Tam was a hostage to his good behaviour." Bruce elaborated, "But I don't know many details. Tam hasn't explained further. It may have traumatised her."
"I wouldn't blame her." Jason snorted, "That vipers' nest isn't somewhere for a civilian to be."
"Given the information we have already collated," Damian put in, "I am dubious that Prudence rescued Drake. He may simply be using her as an explanation for conveniences sake. Certainly the police will be unable to confirm or deny his story."
"I'll retrieve the medical file." Dick declared, "Might give us an idea as to how mobile Tim was at the time of his escape."
"I will check Drake's home for his residency. While I doubt he will be present, there might be information as to where he has gone."
"I'll check his safe houses." Steph declared, "Babs can help me find them all."
"Keep in contact." Bruce instructed, "You too Jason."
"Will do." Dick nodded.
Jason shrugged in response. Damian huffed.
1234567890
Please Review.
I write stories because I can't draw. I have all these images in my head that I cannot reproduce. So I try and describe them with words. If anyone else would like to try to translate what I have written into what they think I saw in my head, they have my permission. I only ask that I be notified of it, so that I may look and go "OOoooh!".
Many thanks to my reviewers:
Loftcat27 – Thanks. I'm a tad fond of Pru. She's a complicated character.
Red-Hot Habanero – And going by your name, you'd be a fierce one.
Inthenightguest – Thanks. I'm glad that I am managing to entertain you and treat the issues correctly.