Chapter Text
Tim POV
I want to be the next Robin.
It’s the one thing I want more than anything.
I’ve worked hard to make sure I’m super qualified, and I know Batman’s secrets as well. Last year I figured out that Nightwing was the original Robin before he became Nightwing. And because he can do the same quadruple somersault that I saw Dick Grayson do when I went to the circus, I figured out that Nightwing is Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne’s oldest adopted son. From there it was easy to figure out that Batman is Bruce Wayne, and the second Robin is Jason Todd.
They can trust me with their secret identities. I’m really good at keeping secrets. I’m so good at keeping secrets that I won’t tell, even if a supervillain tries to torture it out of me.
With that in mind, I’m pretty sure this one, teeny, tiny, little thing I’m doing right now won’t destroy my chances at becoming Robin. And if Bruce Wayne and his family don’t find out what I’m about to do, it shouldn’t ruin my chances of becoming the third Robin.
I wipe the rain away from my eyes with the sleeve of my hoodie. The rain’s making my plan take longer than I’d like but I grip the shovel tighter and dig faster. I’m not sure how far six feet down is, but I’ll know when my shovel hits something solid. The soil is really muddy though. So it’s taking forever.
My parents are both archaeologists. I think they’re in Morocco—wait, maybe it’s Chile—they’ve been away for three months now on back-to-back excavations. That’s kind of the reason I can be alone at a cemetery at this hour without getting in trouble.
Anyway, Mom and Dad are both archeologists, so I was hoping I’d have just a little of their digging skills, but instead of that useful skill, I got Dad’s blue eyes and black hair instead.
It’s three o’clock in the morning in an abandoned cemetery, so I’m not expecting to hear any voices, but when I do, it makes me almost drop my shovel.
“Hey kid! What are you doing? Why are you diggin’ up a grave? That’s all kinds of messed up.”
I grip the shovel as tight as I can, holding it like a bo staff. I pretend that I’m Donatello—my favorite ninja turtle—and swing the shovel as I turn to face whoever’s talking to me.
The stranger ducks and knocks the shovel out of my hand in one smooth motion. I’ve obsessed about Jason Todd long enough to know his Robin moves anywhere. My sheer excitement of meeting my hero up close is quickly turned into sharp pain, when my hero slams me to the ground.
The slushy mud that I was mad at before is the only thing that cushions my hard fall.
Jason snarls down at me, spinning my ‘weapon’ in his hand like a baton. I can see how angry he is, even behind the mask. When he looks down at me in his full Robin costume, it’s like he’s looking at a criminal.
“Wow. This is new. I didn’t think Joker hired eight-year-olds to do his bidding.”
“I’m not eight. I’m twelve,” I say, shaking my head, sending raindrops splashing from my hair. The fall pushed my hood down, and shaking my head makes it fall all the way down.
The white eye parts of Jas—Robin’s mask turn into small slits, and he tosses the shovel aside. At first I think his eyes are narrow because he’s angry, but the smirk on his face and the fact that he ditched his weapon make me hopeful that he’s not too angry.
He crosses his arms over his chest.
“Twelve-years old? Yeah, no. You’re like eight. Nine max.”
“I’m ten if you must know!”
“Yeah, well ten is still too young to be out at 3AM grave digging.”
“It’s not like that.”
I try to stand, but my hands keep slipping in the mud. Robin watches me struggle for a while before he sticks out his hand.
I wipe my muddy hand on my hoodie before I take his hand. He starts to pull me up, but when I’m half-way up my heel slips on the mud and I start to pull him down with me. Robin grunts as he adjusts his grip to pull me all the way up to standing, but I’m still unsteady on my feet.
He doesn’t let go of my hand. He probably thinks I’m in danger of falling on my butt again.
“Look, kid. It’s obvious that you’re not a hardened criminal. You’ve got the balance of a newborn Bambi. So, you mind telling me why you’re trying to steal Jason Todd’s coffin? You know that he’s not in there, right?”
I can feel my chin wobbling, and I’m glad that it’s raining hard enough to cover up my tears. Robin is my hero. He’s the guy that I’m going to replace when he’s old enough to be his own superhero like Nightwing, but now he thinks I’m some kind of weirdo criminal that steals coffins or something.
I want to tell Robin that I’m not doing whatever horrible thing he thinks I’m doing. And that I’m definitely not working for the Joker. Unfortunately, the sentence that comes out is a more incriminating one.
“I’m not stealing anything. I’m burying a dead body.”
His eyebrows raise and I quickly continue.
“My goldfish died yesterday. I kept trying to wake him up, but he wouldn’t,” I point to a small box next to Jason’s headstone, “And I really miss him, so I was figuring that if I went to Jason Todd’s grave, I could bury him and he might come back like he did. I don’t have any friends at school. My goldfish was my only friend. I honestly didn’t think anyone would be here. I was trying to be quick, I really was, but the mud made everything take longer and—and I just miss him.”
Robin looks at me for a moment before saying anything, “So, you’re saying you came here to make a zombie goldfish?”
I nod.
“Cool,” he says with a shrug, “I’m down with that plan. I’ll help you dig.”
He picks up the shovel and starts to dig a lot more effectively than I was. I kneel down and scoop away clumps of mud to help.
When his shovel hits something solid, he wipes the rain from his face. “If you don’t name your goldfish Frankenfish when he comes back to life, I’m gonna be disappointed.”
“Okay. I promise.”
“Do you have a name, kid?”
“Um yeah. I’m Tim.”
“Okay Tim. Reanimating from the dead takes time so we should meet up here tomorrow morning. I’ve read Frankenstein enough times to know that Frankenstein’s monster rises in the morning. Let’s meet up here at like ten o’clock. That gives me enough time to finish up patrol and get a little sleep.”
I nod as Robin places the box with my goldfish into the grave and starts to fill the hole with dirt again.
After he fills in the whole thing, he turns to me with an exhausted huff.
“Batman’s not far from here. We’re on patrol so he can give you a lift back home in the Batmobile. Maybe I can even convince him to get us some ice cream on the way there.”
I want to ride in the Batmobile so badly, but I can’t let them take me home. If Batman and Robin find out my parents haven’t been home in months and that I’ve been left alone with no one to watch me, I’m pretty sure my parents will get arrested. Mom always tells me exactly what to say if anyone asks suspicious questions. She also told me if I mess up it’ll be all my fault if my parents go to jail. I can’t let that happen.
I don’t want to lie to Robin, but I’ve already trespassed in a cemetery, disturbed a grave, and tried to secretly bury a dead body. Lying isn’t the worst thing I’ve attempted today. Also, my mom told me if you tell a lie with your fingers crossed, it’s not a lie anymore.
I cross my fingers and hope for the best.
“I, um, I don’t need a ride back home. I snuck out of the house, and I know how to sneak back in without waking up my parents. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
I hop on my bike and speed away as quickly as possible.
I can tell that Robin’s following me, hiding in the shadows and behind the curtain of pouring rain, so I pedal faster.
I take a few strategics rights, and a sharp left, and pretty soon Robin loses me in the same shadows that he hid behind.
I take a few more detours, just to make sure that I lost him, and when I finally get home, I’m not only exhausted, but I’m soaking wet. I sleepwalk through the front door and as I lock it, I lean against the wall to catch my breath. I can’t remember the last time I pedaled so quickly. The trip from the cemetery to my house usually takes twice as long as I just did it in.
I used to make the trip from my house to the cemetery all the time when I would visit Jason’s grave. He was only gone for like, five months, but I used to visit a lot. I’d stay hidden if Bruce or Alfred or Dick were there.
Dick was the only one that would cry. He would tell Jason how much he missed him and how much it hurt to not be able to hear his voice anymore. The conversations were private, so I made sure to bring my headphones after a while. But no matter how loud I turned up the volume, I still knew he was crying and begging for Jason to come back.
I shake my head to clear away that memory, and close my eyes. I just need to catch my breath and then I can drag myself to my bedroom.
I just… need… to…
-----
…
Did I fall asleep? I lift my arm to rub my eyes, but my sleeve is covered in a thick layer of dried mud. I let my head fall back against the wall and when I focus on the room—technically the hallway entrance—the daylight sun is the first thing that snaps me into full attention.
I fish my phone out of my pocket and pray that it doesn’t say 10 a.m. I press the screen with my dirt covered thumb and a bright 9:35 shines back at me.
I scramble to my feet and race upstairs. If I’m quick, I can squeeze in a shower that I definitely can’t skip, and I can toss on some clothes and still make it to meet Robin in the cemetery. I turn on the showerhead and groan to myself. I can hear my dad’s voice in my head. He’s giving me the speech he always gives every time he takes me to one of this fundraisers or fancy parties and we’re running late.
‘Timothy, the most important thing a man can do is to be on time. In business and in normal, everyday life, being on time and honoring plans show that you respect the person that you are dealing with.’
I’ve lost count how many times my dad told me he’d be there for my birthday, or an awards ceremony and he didn’t show up. Even this trip that my parents are on now, they didn’t text me that they were extending their trip until I sent four frantic texts, panicked that their plane had crashed.
That’s different though, right? I’m pretty sure my parents respect me. They just get busy a lot.
I finish my shower and put on a shirt and pair of jeans and race out the door. I jump onto my bike and make the same speedrun to the cemetery as I did last night.
I didn’t think it was possible, but I set an even quicker time than last night—or this morning since it was 3AM. Even with my quick time, Robin’s already waiting for me at the grave.
I hop off the bike and run, making sure to avoid stepping on anyone’s grave because that’s rude, but as I get closer, I can see that Jason’s not wearing his Robin suit. He’s in regular clothes.
I skid to a stop, and he smiles, “So you’re the kid that tried to dig me up.”
“No. No I—.”
“Relax,” he says holding up a hand, “Robin already filled me in. I know that you’re not some weird, freaky kid that steals coffins. You’re just a weird, freaky kid that tries to make zombie pets.”
“I’m not weird! And if anyone should be on my side, it’s the guy that crawled out of his own grave!”
Jason twitches and mumbles more to himself than me, “His friends mourn and weep, but he is at rest. He does not now feel the murderer’s grasp.”
“Um, what?”
“It’s a quote from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. I used to read it all the time before I died, but it hits kinda different now. Have you ever read it?” he asks.
I shake my head, “It’s too scary.”
“Scarier than chillin’ at a graveyard at three in the morning?”
“Well, no, but I was on a mission.”
Jason winces, “About that mission. Goldie is still resting in peace. Before you got here, Robin told me that it didn’t work.”
“So, he’s really gone.” I didn’t ask it as a question, but a part of me hopes that Jason disagrees.
I try not to cry, but it doesn’t work. I look down at the ground instead of at Jason. I can’t see it, but I can feel when he puts a hand on my shoulder.
He clears his throat. “Um, I’m not really good at knowing what to say in these situations. I’m usually the guy that’s six feet under, but it’s still morning and I haven’t had breakfast so you wanna come over and have pancakes? Alfie makes the best chocolate chip pancakes, and if we get Dick to distract Bruce and Alfred, you and I can get away with drowning our pancakes in chocolate syrup before either of the responsible adults notice.”
I wipe my eyes and sniff, “The world’s biggest pancake weighed 6,614 pounds.”
Jason’s eyebrow raises, “You know the exact weight of the world’s biggest pancake, but you never read Frankenstein?”
“I like trivia books. They have pictures. I don’t really like fiction books.”
“I’ll pretend like I didn’t hear that, because if I did hear you say that you only read picture books, I’d have to dig up my grave and throw you inside.”
Jason and I ride our bikes to Wayne Manor, laughing the whole time.
When we reach Wayne Manor, I can’t help tearing up, “It’s so beautiful.”
“Are you crying? Oh my God. You’re actually crying.”
I swat his arm, “I’m not crying.” A sniff betrays me, “It’s allergies. There are a lot of flowers here that I’m not used to.”
“The Drakes have the same exact garden, dude. And I only know this because Alfie got pissed when Janet Drake ‘cut and pasted’ Alfie’s award-winning floral layout into her yard.”
I wipe my eyes with my sleeve, “The correct terminology is copy and paste. Cut and paste means she stole his actual garden.”
“Well, she straight up stole his idea.”
I try to stop crying but my shoulders are doing that thing where they rise and fall as I hiccup. Still, I try to push through.
“Y-You know I’m T-Tim Drake?”
“Duh. You live next door, Timmy. I realize that next door is like two miles apart when it comes to the freakin’ mansions we live in, but I’ve still seen you before.”
Just yesterday I thought Batman and Robin didn’t even know who I was, so this is a lot to process. Before I can start unpacking any of what Jason just said, the door opens and Mr. Pennyworth, the Wayne’s butler is standing in the doorway with an official frown.
“Oh my heavens. You’re crying. Is everything alright?”
“There is nothing to worry about, just allergies,” I answer, fingers crossed behind my back. The last thing I want is for the Wayne family butler to worry about me, “And it is very nice to meet you, sir. My name is Timothy Drake. Jason invited me over for breakfast, but I don’t mean to intrude. I can take my pancakes back home with me if you’d prefer.”
Mr. Pennyworth gives me a gentle smile, “I will have nothing of the sort. The Wayne family are unable to grace anyone with an appearance before noon, so I would be more than happy to make breakfast for someone who will actually appreciate it. There is a slight chance that Master Richard will awaken to the smell of food, but we shall see.”
I use the most polite voice that I can, “Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Pennyworth, sir. Breakfast sounds lovely.”
“Well, aren’t you a polite young man. I don’t believe any of the boys here have ever called me sir, and that includes Master Bruce. The two of you can follow me, and please, Master Timothy, call me Alfred.”
We walk through the huge mansion to get to the dining room. As we walk, Alfred asks, “How do you take your tea?”
I really prefer coffee, Alfred is going to insist I’m too young. I’ve gotten a few side-eyes from the people that work at the coffee place when I ride my bike there and order a double shot expresso. I always cross my fingers—so that it’s not a lie—and I tell them the coffee’s for my dad, and he’s waiting in the car. That usually makes them less upset.
When we reach the huge dining room table, Alfred dishes up breakfast. Dick staggers into the dining room. He’s borderline sleepwalking and he proves it by walking into the side of the doorway. He holds his head and moans as he tries again, successfully making it through the door the second time.
Dick Grayson is the original Robin and the current Nightwing. I can’t believe I’m actually having breakfast with superheroes, but I have to stay calm because they don’t know that I know their secret identities.
Dick mumbles, “Coffee,” before leaning against the wall for support.
“Hey Dickhead,” Jason yells, “Rough night?”
Dick nods, still not fully awake, “Yeah all-night patrol—” he must notice there’s a guest at the table because he quickly switches gears – “Who’s that kid next to you, Jay? Did Bruce adopt another kid? I’m telling you right now, that man has a problem.”
Jason throws a spoon at Dick, “He’s not a new brother, idiot. He’s Tim from next door. Don’t you recognize him?”
Dick yawns and rubs his eyes, “Right now I wouldn’t recognize my own reflection. I’m so freakin’ tired.”
Alfred clears his throat and Dick mumbles, “Sorry Alfie,” as he drags himself to the empty chair next to me.
He squints at me through heavy eyelids, “Hmm. You do look a little familiar. Hi Tim.”
“Hi. What’s patrol?” I don’t want to ask, but it’s weird if I pretend that I didn’t hear him say it.
Dick yawns again, a little more awake this time, “A videogame I was playing last night. It’s an online co-op military strategy game. My squad is on a different time zone so I’m the only member that was up all night.”
It’s amazing how fast Dick came up with that story. If I want to be Robin, I have to work on that skill.
Jason chimes in, “Bruce doesn’t like shooting games, so we don’t have any in the game room. Dick can only play his military games in his bedroom. It’s all good, though. I like books better than video games anyway.”
I ingest the knowledge as I simultaneously ingest the best pancake I’ve ever eaten. I try to stick the whole thing in my mouth because it’s so good and I’m so hungry. I’m seriously debating putting a pancake in my pocket to save for tomorrow.
Alfred gives me a smile, “Do you like the pancakes?”
“Mmm hmm. They’re the best pancakes I’ve ever had. If I had a chef at my house, I would ask for these every day.”
Jason nudges me with his elbow, “You guys don’t have a chef?”
I stop chewing immediately. I’m not sure if Jason’s casually asking if we have a chef at Drake Manor, or if he’s trying to find out if people are in the house when my parents aren’t. I don’t want to lie to Jason because he’s Robin and no one lies to heroes, but also because he’s a detective like Batman. I have to be really careful what I say.
And speaking of Batman, he suddenly walks into the room. And like the hero he is, he rescues me from this conversation.
When Batman enters the room it feels like time stops. The Dark Knight looks like an exhausted dad in the daylight, but he’s still the absolute coolest person I’ve ever seen.
He’s wearing a gray t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants but he’s also wearing a black satin robe that kind of flows like a cape.
He looks as exhausted as Dick does. I’m pretty sure they were on the same late-night patrol of Gotham.
Alfred is first to speak, “Master Bruce. I am surprised to see that you are awake at this early hour of the morning.”
“Business meeting in an hour,” he grunts. His voice is gravely enough that if he entered a Batman-impression-contest, I’d give him an eight out of ten.
Dick is currently face down in his breakfast, using his pancake as a pillow. Bruce walks past and bends down to give him a kiss on the top of the head.
“Good morning, Richard.”
“Hunuugh.”
He does the same for Jason.
“Good morning, Jason.”
Jason blushes and swats at him, “Morning, old man.”
Bruce pauses when he reaches me.
Dick mumbles into his pancake, “Jason adopted a kid. Chip off the ol’ block, B.”
“Hn,” Bruce says as he sits at the head of the table.
“Hello, Mr. Wayne. I’m Tim. Thank you for letting me visit your lovely home. Although, you didn’t know I was here, so technically you didn’t let me visit. If you want me to leave, I can go.”
Bruce answers my nervous introduction with a friendly smile.
“It’s nice to meet you Tim,” he says, “You can stay as long as you like. But just to be clear, Jason didn’t kidnap you, did he?”
“Um no.”
Bruce blinks and that’s all it takes for me to start confessing.
“I’m so sorry Mr. Wayne. I didn’t mean to go to a cemetery and bother Jason’s grave. It’s just that I missed my goldfish and I wanted him to wake up and come back to life and I couldn’t think of any other way. Jason was really nice about it, but if you want to have me arrested, I won’t resist, but just don’t tell my parents. They get really upset when the news says scandalous things about the family and I think their ten-year-old son getting arrested for trespassing and attempted graverobbing counts as scandalous.”
I hold my arms together in front of me, preparing to be handcuffed.
Dick lifts his head from his pancake pillow, “Did you just say you were robbing Jason’s grave, or am I legitimately asleep?”
Jason throws a piece of bacon at Dick. “Tim said attempted graverobbing. Try to keep up.”
Dick eats the piece of bacon Jason hurled at him, but points an angry finger, “Don’t throw your food, Jay.”
“Or what? Bruce is gonna arrest me?”
Bruce wipes his hand over his face and sighs, “No one is being arrested. But Tim, I’m still not clear why you were—how did you put it—bothering Jason’s grave.”
“It started last night, sir” I use my fork to move my pancake along the plate instead of looking Batman in the eye, “My goldfish died yesterday. I know from the news that a few months back, Jason died but he came back to life. They said that you had connections with Batman and the Justice League, and they used magic to bring Jason back. And I was hoping that there was a little magic left and if I buried my goldfish in Jason’s grave, that he might come back to life like Jason did.”
Dick is first to say something, “Did it work?”
Bruce must glare at him because Dick raises his hands in surrender, “Hey, I’m not the only one thinking it.”
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, “No. It didn’t work. Robin was the one that caught me last night with the shovel. He helped me when I told him my plan and he told me to meet him back in the morning to see if it worked. Jason and Robin got there before I did. Robin left by the time I got there.”
I half expect Batman to yell at me for crying, but his voice is the opposite of angry.
“What was your goldfish’s name?”
“Batman.”
I wait for him to make fun of the name like my dad did, but he doesn’t.
He waits for me to dry my eyes with my napkin and when I look up at him, he has a serious look on his face. His voice is slow and deliberate.
“The media said a lot of things about Jason’s death. Most of it isn’t true, but they were right when they said I did everything I could to try and get my son back. When you love someone, it’s difficult to let them go. Your loyalty to your goldfish says a lot about your character, Timothy. I know Batman personally, and I can guarantee that he would be honored that a young lad as thoughtful as you, named his fish after him.”
Dick ruffles my hair before he gets up to get more coffee, but I can see how shiny his eyes are before he turns his head.
Alfred clears his throat, “Well then. As much as I agree with Master Bruce, I feel this conversation may be a little too heavy to be having over breakfast.”
Jason winks at me and whispers, “Yup, but it was the perfect distraction.”
His pancake is completely covered in chocolate syrup. There’s so much syrup that it’s almost impossible to see the pancake under it. He takes a few bites before Alfred notices and takes away ‘the monstrosity’. Jason pouts about pancake oppression, but the mood goes back to its previous relaxed vibe after that.
Bruce invites me to stay after breakfast, but I cross my fingers under the table and tell him that I have plans to do things with my parents. I really, really want to stay, but I’m pretty sure that Bruce is offering just to be polite and doesn’t actually want me to stay.
Before I leave, Dick looks like he wants to give me a hug, but he gives me another hair ruffle instead. Jason offers to walk me home because ‘it’s freakin’ next door, dude’, but I’ve already intruded enough so I convince him that I’ll be okay.
I know that I shouldn’t ask, but I take a chance and ask if I could take a picture on my phone with them. It’s probably the last time I’ll see them this close. There might be polite conversation at a fundraiser or a gala in the future, but other than that, I’ll most likely go back to being their distant neighbor.
Alfred agrees to take the picture, but I tell him that I want him to be in it, so I prop the phone on a table and set the timer. We have to take ten pictures before there’s one without Jason making funny faces or Dick giving Bruce bunny ears with his fingers.
After I finally get one normal picture, I hop on my bike and wave goodbye as I head back home. I might not hang out with Batman and his Robins again, but at least I have pictures. I pedal faster, eager to get home and print out the pictures. I wish I could have taken the pictures with my camera and developed them in my dark room, but pictures from my phone can still look really nice if I touch them up enough.
And maybe if I can make them look really professional I can—
The ringtone of my phone makes me skid my bike to stop. The only people that have my number are my parents, but they never call.
By the time I take my phone out of my pocket I miss the call. When I press the screen it says 1 missed call Mom. It also says I have 20 unanswered texts.
I park my bike against the front of the house and call Mom back immediately. She answers after the first ring.
“Timothy, darling. It’s so good to hear your voice. I was so worried.”