Strays - Part 5
Summary: Batman is very happy with the way that Robin has picked up his training, his methods and his habits. Generally. But his protege showing up at the Batcave with two small children, Tim and Jason, clinging to him proves he's adopted one trait Batman would have rather he hadn't. It seems the batfamily has an incurable penchant for picking up strays, and Tim and Jason are only the beginning.
Fandom: DCU
Characters/Pairing: The Batfamily
Genre: Gen/Fluff/Angst
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Originally for this prompt from the yj-anon-meme, de-anoned and available on this comm with a lot of other fun art and fic by some really amazing people.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
A few hours later, Batman headed out into the night by himself for the first time in months.
It felt odd to operate without his bright little shadow, but for once Robin didn’t seem to be bothered with being grounded. When Bruce swept down into the cave after dinner, the boy had barely noticed his departure, seemingly happily occupied with shepherding his strays around the manor.
Batman spared a thought to wonder if benching was still an appropriate punishment if Dick actually enjoyed it, but decided that since the strays would soon be on their way in one manner or another it was a moot point. Besides, Gotham City did not allow him much time to think. She was always in need of saving, after all.
Still, he had three cases to take care of. So he ran a quick patrol of the city. He stopped six muggings, three attempted rapes and stopped a robbery of a convenience station before heading over to his first destination. Luckily Clayface and his goons were foolish enough to not have cleared out after their run-in with Robin last night. Batman easily tracked them down and by the time he was done leaving them and their “goods” giftwrapped for the police he still had a little less than half the night left to handle his other two cases.
Over the fine meal Alfred had prepared for them, Bruce had managed to find out Jason’s family name as well as the names of his parents. Those were some of the only concrete things the boy had been able to tell him.
The child wasn’t maliciously withholding information, though, as Bruce had confirmed before heading out that night.
“My dad’s in jail,” Jason (last name Todd) had reported with a careless shrug as he nudged Tim in an attempt to get him to eat more. “Been there for a long time, so I don’t remember him very good. Mom used to talk about him a lot, but then she stopped. Doesn’t matter. Not like I miss him. Don’t need him, either.”
Willis Todd was indeed in jail. The man was in the process of serving a seven year sentence for a laundry list of petty crimes that had finally caught up with him.
The boy had also given the address where his mother had been staying when he left her, but added, “She’s probably not around there anymore. We were about ready to clear out when I left, so I don’t know where she is now.”
“Do you move around a lot?” Dick had asked curiously.
Jason nodded. “Few times a year,” he said, still more concerned with his meal than the conversation. “Mom can’t hold onto a job or man too good. Old Lady Soto said she’s got bad taste.”
Catherine Ann Todd was, according to the files Bruce had been able to dig up, only a step or two above being a vagrant. Her records were spotty and incomplete due to her tendency to fall off the grid only to reappear either in a new job or in a hospital bed every few months. Her name showed up on only a handful of apartment leases meaning that either the little family had been homeless or they had been staying with friends, probably the “boyfriends” Jason had mentioned.
Dick frowned. “Don’t you miss her?” the aerialist asked, a shadow of grief passing over his normally smiling face. Bruce knew he was thinking about his own parents. Both Bruce and Dick would give anything to see their parents again, but Jason, whose mother was still alive, seemed completely unconcerned with the absence. Dick clearly didn’t know what to do with this attitude.
“I’m old enough to take care of myself,” Jason said simply, though rather clearly avoiding answering the question. “Besides, she’s better off without me around to drag her down.”
Dick’s eyes had widened at that. “That’s not true,” he said. “It’s not!” Then the older boy had attempted to pull Jason into a hug. Unlike Tim, Jason had refused to docilely accept the affection. He struggled violently against Dick’s efforts, but the older boy was bigger and stronger and despite Jason’s best efforts, the two ended up on the floor in a mess of limbs, soaking wet with water they’d managed to spill on themselves during the struggle. Still, Dick got his hug.
“Don’t say things like that!” Dick continued his admonishment as he clung to the smaller boy like a leech. “You’re like, what, seven? You shouldn’t be off on your own and you’re certainly not dragging anyone down.”
Jason beat his hands useless against Dick’s sides for a few moments before giving up on escaping. “First of all, I’m eight not seven,” the street urchin snapped. ”That’s not the same at all, Dickface. Second of all, I know what it means to be deadweight, and I’m it. Heard enough from my “uncles” to know it, so don’t try to tell me otherwise, got it? My mom’s said plenty too, even if she wasn’t all there because of the drugs when she did it and said sorry later. Truth is truth and I can handle it. I don’t need to hear lies, so back off!”
The aerialist just hugged Jason tighter before reluctantly letting go. “It’s not a lie and they’re idiots for telling you that,” Dick insisted.
The street urchin ignored him and got back into his seat only to find Tim staring at him with wide eyes. “Jason…” the smallest boy murmured worriedly.
Jason grimaced and automatically reached out to pull the boy into a one armed hug. “Hey, hey. No need to make that sad face. It’s fine. No worries, Babybird.”
Tim’s mouth twisted in a tiny frown, but he nodded slowly and then they all concentrated on finishing their rapidly cooling meals, the mood suddenly far more somber than it had been before.
Shaking his head slightly, Bruce returned his attention to the present. He needed to find Catherine Todd, but first there was something he needed to see for himself.
***
Crime Alley was as it always was.
Batman swept down from above, searching for Jason’s box. The nooks and crannies of the Alley were many, though. And the many boxes he spotted looked indistinguishable from any other box he’d ever seen.
Bruce couldn’t quite bring himself to imagine how those two boys had lived here for a month, but Batman knew that countless people could and did live in such conditions and even worse conditions for years, for their entire lives.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
Batman knew he couldn’t save everyone and that it would be pointless to try. His efforts were best served in cleaning up the city, in making it safe.
Or as safe a Gotham could ever be.
He knew this. But the reminder of his limits, his inadequacy, stung. No matter what he did, it was never enough. Could never be enough.
The Dark Knight frowned and admonished himself for woolgathering. He had a schedule to keep and no time for such unproductive thoughts.
He did, however, make a note in the back of his mind to donate the money for another homeless shelter in the area before refocusing on his mission. One more shelter wouldn’t be enough, but it was the best he could do.
Batman recalled Robin’s description of where the boys had been staying and narrowed down his options to a shadowy alleyway between two crumbling buildings. There were several boxes lining the narrow passage and each one was quickly abandoned by their inhabitants when Batman stepped out of the darkness.
Most of them were quite a bit older than Jason and Tim. Batman wondered how two small boys had managed to keep their box from being forcibly taken from them, but supposed that might have something to do with the bribes Jason had mentioned.
Batman casually snagged one of the box-dwellers by the collar and slammed him into the wall.
“B-batman! I didn’t do nothin’!” the man blubbered. “I’ll tell ya anything. I swear!”
“Good,” Batman said. “Tell me, do you remember two boys who were living in this alley?”
“I don’t know nothing about no kids,” the man whined. “I swear!”
“Perhaps I can improve your memory,” Batman growled and shook the vagrant sharply.
“You looking for Todd and his brother?” a voice asked from somewhere to his right.
Still holding the man with one hand, Batman whirled to face the voice. A few feet away from him stood a scraggly teenager. After a moment of consideration, Batman dropped the vagrant and stalked toward the teen, ignoring the shuffling sounds of his first potential source scrambling out of the line of fire.
“What do you know about them?” Batman asked roughly as he advanced.
The teen took a few steps back, looking nervous, but determined. “They in trouble or something?”
Batman said nothing.
“Look, Todd’s a good kid. If he’s in trouble I wanna know about it. We look for our own out here even if the kid’s too thick to accept anyone’s help,” the teen said stubbornly.
“You’re in the East Street Gang,” Batman observed, reading the signs in the teen’s fraying clothing.
The teen paled, but didn’t back up any farther. “I ain’t done nothing,” the gang member insisted. “This ain’t about me, anyhow. Todd’s new meat, but I like ‘im.”
“What do you know about Catherine Todd?” Batman asked.
“Who’s that?” the teen asked. “Their mom? Sister?”
Batman said nothing, and simply glared at the gang member through the whited out lenses of his cowl.
The teen paled further. “Ain’t know a thing sir, but Skinny Jack vouched for the kid. Knew his old man. That’s all I know. I swear.”
Batman nodded sharply and then demanded to know where “Skinny Jack” could be found. The gang member told him and then tried to slip off, but before he could, Batman grabbed him by the arm and pulled him close. “Stay out of trouble,” the Bat warned menacingly. “You won’t find me nearly so pleasant if you don’t keep your nose clean.”
The gang member went white as sheet. “No, sir, Batman-sir. Never want to see you again if I can help it.”
“Good,” Batman said and then he disappeared into the shadows, leaving a shaken gang member in his wake.
***
Batman found “Skinny Jack” a short time later drinking away his money in a bar on 63rd street.
Although the man was anything but skinny, Batman found Jack to be quite talkative after he dragged the man out of the bar in the confusion caused by a handy smoke bomb.
“The hell? Ba-batman! Wh-what do you want? I didn’t - ” the man babbled helplessly when Batman slammed him up against an alley wall.
“This isn’t about what you did, Jack,” Batman growled. “It’s about what you know.”
“I- I-” Skinny Jack whimpered pathetically.
“What do you know about the Todds?” Batman demanded.
“Willis? He’s still in jail, ain’t he?” Jack slurred.
“I want to know about his wife…and his sons,” Batman elaborated darkly.
The man nodded rapidly. “Yeah, yeah. Only one of those kids was his, if that’s what you want to hear. But Cathy, she’s always with some’un or another. But the older one, he’s Willis’ alright. Good kid. Smart ‘ead on his shoulders.”
“Where is Catherine Todd?” Batman cut in. He didn’t have time to listen to Skinny Jack’s ramblings. He was on a tight schedule.
Jack forgot himself enough to laugh uproariously at the question. “Where? Where hasn’t that whore been?”
Batman slammed Jack roughly against the wall, reminded the fool just who he was talking to. “Keep the libel to yourself, Jack. I want the facts.”
“Sh-she could be anywhere. How should I know? I’m not ‘er keeper,” the man said.
“Then tell me where she’s been, Jack. Give me names: friends, ex-lovers, people who’ve sheltered Todd and her children,” Batman growled.
Without any further encouragement Skinny Jack sang like a bird.
When the man literally couldn’t dredge up another half remembered family friend, Batman dropped the shaken and bewildered louse on the ground and slipped back into the shadows. He was pleased. “Skinny Jack” had provided him with quite a list of names and places where the individuals bearing those names could be found.
It was a good start, but before he followed those leads, he stopped in at the address Jason had given him. The apartment that Jason had apparently lived in for a few months before he took the streets was abandoned, but Batman managed to track down the place’s “landlord.” The vile man was distinctly unhelpful and had nothing pleasant to say about anyone, especially the Todds.
Batman did however find out Catherine Todd’s ex-boyfriend’s name and that the two had had a rather explosive break-up a little over a month ago. The man also insisted that he hadn’t seen the “little bastard” around even before that. Batman almost crushed the contemptible creature’s windpipe when he made a comment about wishing Red, the boyfriend, had drowned the little brat in his bathwater.
Bruce felt only a little guilty about leaving the man suspended upside-down outside his own apartment building. Even though as far as Batman knew the man hadn’t technically done anything wrong, he highly suspected Todd’s old landlord had been less than honest in his business dealings. If he wasn’t in such a hurry he’d examine the books himself, but for now Batman had bigger fish to fry.
The Bat followed every lead, tracking down every last name that Skinny Jack had given him. Most of the leads went nowhere, but a few knew enough to lead him to other people who had had a more recent acquaintance with the Todds.
The most intriguing of the people he met was the the Soto woman Jason had mentioned. It turned out that she was the matriarch of a large Latino family in one of Gotham’s poorer, but relatively safer neighborhoods. She had half a dozen children and countless grandchildren and great grandchildren that she watched over as her children struggled to make ends meet. She had also apparently been one of Todd’s go-to babysitters for hours or days at a time.
The time Jason spent in Soto’s care had apparently endeared the boy to her, because of all the sources Batman interrogated that night; she was the only one who interrogated him in turn, demanding to know if the boy was well. Once she knew Jason was safe, she was very forthcoming, but warned in heavily accented English that if he didn’t have the boy’s best interests at heart that mythical creature of the night or not, she would not hesitate to put him over her knee and teach him a lesson about responsibility.
Batman rarely received threats from civilians, but this one felt surprisingly more intimidating (or perhaps humbling) than any other threat he’d gotten in quite some time.
As he left the woman’s home Bruce found himself thankful that Jason had had such a strong positive influence in his life. He also decided that Wayne Enterprises needed to invest in the area. Perhaps buy up the buildings, lower the rent and improve the utilities available to the inhabitants. And he should probably talk to Dr. Thompkins about upgrading the nearby free clinic. It was that time of year anyway, wasn’t it?
Batman scowled at himself and pushed his charitable thoughts to the side. He picked up Todd’s trail once more, following it from source to source until he finally found her.
He learned Todd’s current address courtesy of her dealer, a pathetic individual who the police would soon be picking up and then wasted no further time before heading to her location. There was high probability that she was “home” and the Bat knew that if she wasn’t it was very unlikely he’d be able to find her that night. He needed to find her, though. For Jason’s sake this needed to be taken care of as quickly and as discretely as possible. Bruce had no desire to drag this out and he didn’t want to think about what he’d have to do if Catherine Todd decided to fall off the radar again.
***
Batman slipped quickly and silently into the dilapidated apartment Catherine Todd and her current boyfriend were staying in. No one noticed his presence as he stalked through the shadows of the house, searching for his quarry.
She was there, sitting in a tiny kitchen, staring blankly off into space with unfocused eyes.
The boyfriend was passed out on the sofa, sleeping off what looked like a few dozen bottles of beer.
It was for the best. Batman wanted to have this conversation without any distractions and, from what Jason had said, any lover of Catherine Todd was likely to be highly unhelpful.
Batman came to a stop just to the woman’s right side and waited silently to be noticed. As he waited he observed her features. She had long, limp hair and dark circles beneath her eyes. She looked every inch the drug addict he’d expected, but what surprised him was that she only superficially resembled her son. Jason looked almost nothing like her, but Batman supposed the boy did take more after his father in terms of his appearance based on the years old photo of the man in Mr. Todd’s file.
“Good evening, Mrs. Todd,” the Bat greeted darkly when it became apparent that the woman wasn’t going to notice him on her own.
Catherine Todd jumped in surprise and nearly fell out of her chair at the sound of his voice. Good. Batman wanted to keep her off guard.
“You - you’re the Batman,” the woman said disbelievingly. “What are you - ” she cut herself off. “My boy,” she said, her eyes suddenly surprisingly clear. “My baby, something’s happened to him. He’s dead, isn’t he? No, nonono then they’d send the cops. Of course. No, he‘s in trouble. My Jason, who has him? What have they done to him?” Todd demanded, stumbling forward until she was clinging to Batman in obvious desperation.
That was not the response the Bat had expected.
“Your son is fine,” Batman said stiffly, trying to make sense of the woman before him.
Todd abruptly released him and would have fallen if Batman didn’t automatically reach out to support her. She brushed him off impatiently and staggered over to the counter.
“That’s good then,” she said inanely. “Would you like some coffee?” she asked as she fumbled with an old coffee maker. “Of course you do,” she berated herself as she continued in her self-appointed task.
She was shaking like a leaf.
“No thank you, Mrs. Todd,” Batman growled. He stalked over to her side and pried the coffeemaker from her hands before leading her back to her seat. “We have things to discuss.”
Todd looked up at him in confusion. “You said he was fine,” she said. It was an accusation.
“He is.”
“Then what is there is discuss?” she demanded. “He’s fine.”
“You’re his mother,” Batman said.
“Some mother I am.” She laughed bitterly, burying her face in her hands.
“You haven’t seen him for over a month,” Batman growled.
The woman said nothing.
Batman scowled in frustration. “Don’t you care about him at all?” Bruce demanded
Todd blinked slowly and turned to look up at him. She looked a great deal older than knew her to be. “Do you have a mother?” she asked after a prolonged silence.
Batman stiffened. How dare she speak of his mother? “What does that - ”
“Everything,” she said. She was silent for a few seconds before she continued, stumbling over her words as she spoke. “Everyone has a mother. I had one. You must have too, once, though maybe you don’t remember. It’s so very hard. I should never have been a mother, I know, I know, but I couldn’t leave him.”
“And now?” Batman asked, a little caught off guard by the woman’s ranting. Maybe she did care about Jason.
“You said he was fine,” she insisted.
“He is,” Batman agreed.
“Then he can stay where he is,” Todd said, gripping the edges of her chair tightly with trembling hands.
“You’ll take my word for it?” Batman asked.
“You had a mother didn’t you?” she asked inanely. “Batman is a demon, but even demons have mothers. The children say nice things about you. You don’t hurt kids. You don’t. So he’s fine and that’s good. Why are you here? Why are you dragging him back here? Let him go. Don’t tie him down. He’ll end up just like his bastard father - ” Her voice got progressively louder as she spoke until she abruptly cut herself off and began staring blankly into space again.
“Don’t you care what happens to him?” Bruce demanded. He wouldn’t let her run away from Jason, not physically, not mentally. Not if she really meant anything she said.
“Care? Of course I care,” Todd said, suddenly becoming animated with surprisingly forceful anger. “That’s why I have to let him go. Can’t be selfish, can I? Need to do what’s best for him.”
“He needs his mother,” Bruce said, already making plans. Catherine Todd was clearly not a lost clause. He could get her into a private rehab center for a start, but that wouldn’t be enough. He needed to find her stable employment and figure out a way to keep her away from the negative influences in her life. “There are people who can help you - ”
Todd laughed and laughed, silencing anything more Bruce might have said.
“Help?” she said through gasps of laughter. “What a riot. Help me.”
“I’m serious,” Bruce snapped. “Jason needs you.”
“He needs anything but me,” Todd corrected. She was no longer laughing. “I know what’s best for my son. And it isn’t me.”
“We can get you clean,” Bruce insisted. “There are doctors and specialists who can put you back together. You can start over - ”
Todd smiled sadly at him. “You’re sweet,” she said. “But I’m too old to change.”
“No one is too old to change,” Bruce said.
Todd kept smiling. “I am,” she said simply. “I’ve dug my grave. Let me lie in it in peace.”
Bruce’s hands tightened into fists at the finality in her voice. He couldn’t believe this woman.
“You’re afraid.” It was an accusation.
“No. I’m tired,” Todd corrected. “There’s a difference. Why are you here?”
“I’m here about your son, Jason,” Bruce said, knowing he was being redundant and not caring.
Todd just looked at him and Bruce realized that he wasn’t going to be able to change her mind. She wanted nothing to do with the boy.
“Your son helped out the son of a valued associate of mine. My associate has expressed interest in the boy and asked me to secure his future in whatever manner I could,” Batman said.
“Where do I sign?” Todd asked.
It couldn’t be that simple. Could it? Was this woman really so willing to sign her child away?
Batman pulled out the blank adoption papers he had prepared before he left for patrol that evening and handed them over to Todd. The woman glanced over the pages, but she said nothing even though she had obviously noticed that she truly was signing her child away without any idea what might happen to him.
She staggered over to the small kitchen table, the papers clutched in her hands. Batman followed her like a shadow. He handed her a pen and helpfully pointed out all the places she needed to sign. Once she was finished he gave her another set of papers that would ensure both her silence on the subject of the boy’s adoption and prevent her from reclaiming the rights she had just signed away. She signed them without question even after Batman explained what each form meant in explicit detail.
Once she was finished, Batman reclaimed the papers and whisked them safely out of sight. He waited a moment to see if she would change her mind, despite himself hoping that she would prove him wrong, that she would actually come through for the boy.
She remained silent and Batman turned to leave.
“Tell him I’m dead, if it helps,” Todd’s quiet voice cut through stale stillness of the apartment.
“Why would I do that?’ Bruce asked, refusing to turn to face the woman.
“I don’t want to hold him back. That boy…he’ll be better than I ever was. So, you take care of him. I’m trusting you, h-hear me?” Her voice cracked. Bruce realized with some surprise that she was crying.
He turned to face her and could barely stand to look at her watery eyes and tearstained cheeks. “Catherine, you don’t need to do this.” He was pleading, but she was crying.
“Tell him I’m dead,” she insisted. There were still tears in her eyes, but her eyes were clearer than they’d been all night, clearer, perhaps, than they’d been in years. “Tell him I’m dead and go away.”
Bruce nodded solemnly and Batman reluctantly vanished into the darkness.
***
On his way to take care of his last case of the night Batman went out of his way to stop three muggings, four robberies and a carjacking. He may have been slightly more…vehement in subduing his prey than usual, but he still made it across town with plenty of time to spare.
He had known what he was going to find, but the contrast between his first two cases and the last was still jarring. The tightly packed, interconnected world of Gotham’s slums seemed as though it should be worlds away from the sterile fastidiousness of Gotham’s white picket fence-lined suburbs, rather than just a few miles away.
Batman gazed at the Drake Family Residence and wondered what exactly he was doing here. There was nothing he could do in this place. Nothing he found here would help him decide what needed to be done with little Tim Drake.
And yet…
He needed to see this for himself.
Batman briefly considered going in through the front door, but on the off chance someone actually was inside the dark building, he entered through a window instead.
He quickly found that his caution was unnecessary.
A quick survey revealed what he knew to be true from looking at the Drake’s expenses. The only people to have set foot in the Drake House in the last month were the cleaning service and the gardener, both of whom visited once every two weeks. According to what he’d found earlier that day, the Drakes hadn’t even bothered to come back here during their brief return to the States when Tim had first disappeared.
Batman ghosted through the halls of the Manor. Every room he peered into was tastefully decorated with beautiful artwork and fine furniture. Each one looked like something out of an interior design magazine, prefect and untouched.
Furthering the impression of the house being a model rather than an actual residence was the complete absence of photographs. There were no portraits of either the Drakes or their son. No wedding or vacation photos. Nothing to identify the owners of the home unless one already knew who had had the place built seven years ago to rigorously high standards.
Batman frowned as he took in the distinct lack of personal items in any of the rooms. There were no knickknacks, no misplaced games or articles of clothing, no indulgences to be found unless one counted Jack Drake’s archeological findings. There were quite a few of those housed in glass cases throughout the house. That was it.
Bruce could not wrap his mind around the idea that a child had lived for five years in this house. Dick had only been living with him for two years and yet already he knew that Wayne Manor would never be the same. Dick didn’t mean to cause so much trouble, but the boy was always full of such energy and when one houses a circus child who can literally bounce off the walls, some chandeliers were occasionally lost in that glorious war against boredom. Despite Alfred’s best efforts there were few rooms in the Manor that did not bear the marks of Dick’s adventures. (The ones that hadn’t witnessed the brunt of Dick’s enthusiasm instead hid mislaid belongings tucked behind couches and under coffee tables.) Bruce honestly didn’t mind the mishaps or the mess (and he suspected Alfred loved it); they made the Manor feel alive for the first time since Bruce’s parents were murdered.
The Drake Household was not alive in any sense of the word. It felt as cold and empty as a tomb
Bruce could feel the house begin to suffocate him after only a few minutes.
No. He was being ridiculous. There was plenty of air in the hallway he was striding through, even if he was being painfully reminded of what it felt like when he wore his “Brucie” mask for too long. That constricting feeling of being boxed in until he felt like gasping for breath. He wondered how little Tim had endured living in this place in almost complete isolation for over five years…
He took a deep, steadying breath and made his way up the stairs. The sooner he finished this, the sooner he could go home to his childr- his ward.
There were many bedrooms on the second floor. One was obviously the master suit, but the others were harder to tell apart. He worried that it would be impossible to figure out which one was Tim’s, but his worries were at least partially allayed when he found the only room that could be Tim’s.
The Superman sheets were a dead giveaway.
Bruce smirked at the sight. It was a relief to know the boy had at least some paraphernalia of childhood even in this austere place. Still, he would need to get Tim proper sheets, regardless of what was decided about the boy’s future. Black and yellow was so much more tasteful than Clark’s eyesore color scheme.
Bruce looked away from the bed and took in the rest of the room. There were two bookcases laden down with books, none of which were for children and several of which were written in Greek, Latin and French.
There was a state of the art computer on a desk beside the bookcases and…that was it. There were no toys in the room barring a stack of educational games and DVDs stacked neatly next to the computer.
The room looked practically untouched. Not a book was out of (alphabetical) place and only their cracked spines shown that anyone had ever even read them. All of Tim’s clothing was neatly folded and put away, out of sight.
Bruce’s eye caught sight of something glinting on the bedside table and he moved forward to examine it. He frowned slightly as he carefully picked up the picture frame and took in the surreal sight of a grinning Dick Grayson hugging the life out of an even smaller Tim Drake.
The boy really had been there, he thought. He hadn’t doubted Tim or Dick, but seeing the proof here was odd. Especially since it was the only photo he had seen in the entire house. Meeting Dick…and watching the Graysons fall to their deaths had obviously had a strong effect on the boy.
Bruce set the picture frame down and began a more thorough search of the room. There wasn’t much to find. He a quick search under the bed revealed a well-used chemistry set complete with half empty vials of dangerous chemicals and a box filled with newspaper clippings detailing the exploits of Brucie Wayne and his ward, Richard Grayson. The very first clippings at the bottom of the box were from the day after the Grayson’s murder.
Yes. That night had apparently affected Tim deeply.
Bruce put the chemistry set back where he found it and placed Tim’s picture of that day at the circus in the shoe box. He closed up the box and tucked it under his arm.
Whatever was going to happen with Tim was going to take a while. It seemed like a worthless gesture, but Bruce couldn’t help but think that if he and Dick had been such a constant in the boy’s life even when the child’s parents weren’t, that perhaps Tim would want to have these.
Batman spared the room one last glance before slipping out of the house like the shadow he was, leaving it just as he had found it: silent and vacant of life.
Part 6
Fandom: DCU
Characters/Pairing: The Batfamily
Genre: Gen/Fluff/Angst
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Originally for this prompt from the yj-anon-meme, de-anoned and available on this comm with a lot of other fun art and fic by some really amazing people.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
A few hours later, Batman headed out into the night by himself for the first time in months.
It felt odd to operate without his bright little shadow, but for once Robin didn’t seem to be bothered with being grounded. When Bruce swept down into the cave after dinner, the boy had barely noticed his departure, seemingly happily occupied with shepherding his strays around the manor.
Batman spared a thought to wonder if benching was still an appropriate punishment if Dick actually enjoyed it, but decided that since the strays would soon be on their way in one manner or another it was a moot point. Besides, Gotham City did not allow him much time to think. She was always in need of saving, after all.
Still, he had three cases to take care of. So he ran a quick patrol of the city. He stopped six muggings, three attempted rapes and stopped a robbery of a convenience station before heading over to his first destination. Luckily Clayface and his goons were foolish enough to not have cleared out after their run-in with Robin last night. Batman easily tracked them down and by the time he was done leaving them and their “goods” giftwrapped for the police he still had a little less than half the night left to handle his other two cases.
Over the fine meal Alfred had prepared for them, Bruce had managed to find out Jason’s family name as well as the names of his parents. Those were some of the only concrete things the boy had been able to tell him.
The child wasn’t maliciously withholding information, though, as Bruce had confirmed before heading out that night.
“My dad’s in jail,” Jason (last name Todd) had reported with a careless shrug as he nudged Tim in an attempt to get him to eat more. “Been there for a long time, so I don’t remember him very good. Mom used to talk about him a lot, but then she stopped. Doesn’t matter. Not like I miss him. Don’t need him, either.”
Willis Todd was indeed in jail. The man was in the process of serving a seven year sentence for a laundry list of petty crimes that had finally caught up with him.
The boy had also given the address where his mother had been staying when he left her, but added, “She’s probably not around there anymore. We were about ready to clear out when I left, so I don’t know where she is now.”
“Do you move around a lot?” Dick had asked curiously.
Jason nodded. “Few times a year,” he said, still more concerned with his meal than the conversation. “Mom can’t hold onto a job or man too good. Old Lady Soto said she’s got bad taste.”
Catherine Ann Todd was, according to the files Bruce had been able to dig up, only a step or two above being a vagrant. Her records were spotty and incomplete due to her tendency to fall off the grid only to reappear either in a new job or in a hospital bed every few months. Her name showed up on only a handful of apartment leases meaning that either the little family had been homeless or they had been staying with friends, probably the “boyfriends” Jason had mentioned.
Dick frowned. “Don’t you miss her?” the aerialist asked, a shadow of grief passing over his normally smiling face. Bruce knew he was thinking about his own parents. Both Bruce and Dick would give anything to see their parents again, but Jason, whose mother was still alive, seemed completely unconcerned with the absence. Dick clearly didn’t know what to do with this attitude.
“I’m old enough to take care of myself,” Jason said simply, though rather clearly avoiding answering the question. “Besides, she’s better off without me around to drag her down.”
Dick’s eyes had widened at that. “That’s not true,” he said. “It’s not!” Then the older boy had attempted to pull Jason into a hug. Unlike Tim, Jason had refused to docilely accept the affection. He struggled violently against Dick’s efforts, but the older boy was bigger and stronger and despite Jason’s best efforts, the two ended up on the floor in a mess of limbs, soaking wet with water they’d managed to spill on themselves during the struggle. Still, Dick got his hug.
“Don’t say things like that!” Dick continued his admonishment as he clung to the smaller boy like a leech. “You’re like, what, seven? You shouldn’t be off on your own and you’re certainly not dragging anyone down.”
Jason beat his hands useless against Dick’s sides for a few moments before giving up on escaping. “First of all, I’m eight not seven,” the street urchin snapped. ”That’s not the same at all, Dickface. Second of all, I know what it means to be deadweight, and I’m it. Heard enough from my “uncles” to know it, so don’t try to tell me otherwise, got it? My mom’s said plenty too, even if she wasn’t all there because of the drugs when she did it and said sorry later. Truth is truth and I can handle it. I don’t need to hear lies, so back off!”
The aerialist just hugged Jason tighter before reluctantly letting go. “It’s not a lie and they’re idiots for telling you that,” Dick insisted.
The street urchin ignored him and got back into his seat only to find Tim staring at him with wide eyes. “Jason…” the smallest boy murmured worriedly.
Jason grimaced and automatically reached out to pull the boy into a one armed hug. “Hey, hey. No need to make that sad face. It’s fine. No worries, Babybird.”
Tim’s mouth twisted in a tiny frown, but he nodded slowly and then they all concentrated on finishing their rapidly cooling meals, the mood suddenly far more somber than it had been before.
Shaking his head slightly, Bruce returned his attention to the present. He needed to find Catherine Todd, but first there was something he needed to see for himself.
***
Crime Alley was as it always was.
Batman swept down from above, searching for Jason’s box. The nooks and crannies of the Alley were many, though. And the many boxes he spotted looked indistinguishable from any other box he’d ever seen.
Bruce couldn’t quite bring himself to imagine how those two boys had lived here for a month, but Batman knew that countless people could and did live in such conditions and even worse conditions for years, for their entire lives.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
Batman knew he couldn’t save everyone and that it would be pointless to try. His efforts were best served in cleaning up the city, in making it safe.
Or as safe a Gotham could ever be.
He knew this. But the reminder of his limits, his inadequacy, stung. No matter what he did, it was never enough. Could never be enough.
The Dark Knight frowned and admonished himself for woolgathering. He had a schedule to keep and no time for such unproductive thoughts.
He did, however, make a note in the back of his mind to donate the money for another homeless shelter in the area before refocusing on his mission. One more shelter wouldn’t be enough, but it was the best he could do.
Batman recalled Robin’s description of where the boys had been staying and narrowed down his options to a shadowy alleyway between two crumbling buildings. There were several boxes lining the narrow passage and each one was quickly abandoned by their inhabitants when Batman stepped out of the darkness.
Most of them were quite a bit older than Jason and Tim. Batman wondered how two small boys had managed to keep their box from being forcibly taken from them, but supposed that might have something to do with the bribes Jason had mentioned.
Batman casually snagged one of the box-dwellers by the collar and slammed him into the wall.
“B-batman! I didn’t do nothin’!” the man blubbered. “I’ll tell ya anything. I swear!”
“Good,” Batman said. “Tell me, do you remember two boys who were living in this alley?”
“I don’t know nothing about no kids,” the man whined. “I swear!”
“Perhaps I can improve your memory,” Batman growled and shook the vagrant sharply.
“You looking for Todd and his brother?” a voice asked from somewhere to his right.
Still holding the man with one hand, Batman whirled to face the voice. A few feet away from him stood a scraggly teenager. After a moment of consideration, Batman dropped the vagrant and stalked toward the teen, ignoring the shuffling sounds of his first potential source scrambling out of the line of fire.
“What do you know about them?” Batman asked roughly as he advanced.
The teen took a few steps back, looking nervous, but determined. “They in trouble or something?”
Batman said nothing.
“Look, Todd’s a good kid. If he’s in trouble I wanna know about it. We look for our own out here even if the kid’s too thick to accept anyone’s help,” the teen said stubbornly.
“You’re in the East Street Gang,” Batman observed, reading the signs in the teen’s fraying clothing.
The teen paled, but didn’t back up any farther. “I ain’t done nothing,” the gang member insisted. “This ain’t about me, anyhow. Todd’s new meat, but I like ‘im.”
“What do you know about Catherine Todd?” Batman asked.
“Who’s that?” the teen asked. “Their mom? Sister?”
Batman said nothing, and simply glared at the gang member through the whited out lenses of his cowl.
The teen paled further. “Ain’t know a thing sir, but Skinny Jack vouched for the kid. Knew his old man. That’s all I know. I swear.”
Batman nodded sharply and then demanded to know where “Skinny Jack” could be found. The gang member told him and then tried to slip off, but before he could, Batman grabbed him by the arm and pulled him close. “Stay out of trouble,” the Bat warned menacingly. “You won’t find me nearly so pleasant if you don’t keep your nose clean.”
The gang member went white as sheet. “No, sir, Batman-sir. Never want to see you again if I can help it.”
“Good,” Batman said and then he disappeared into the shadows, leaving a shaken gang member in his wake.
***
Batman found “Skinny Jack” a short time later drinking away his money in a bar on 63rd street.
Although the man was anything but skinny, Batman found Jack to be quite talkative after he dragged the man out of the bar in the confusion caused by a handy smoke bomb.
“The hell? Ba-batman! Wh-what do you want? I didn’t - ” the man babbled helplessly when Batman slammed him up against an alley wall.
“This isn’t about what you did, Jack,” Batman growled. “It’s about what you know.”
“I- I-” Skinny Jack whimpered pathetically.
“What do you know about the Todds?” Batman demanded.
“Willis? He’s still in jail, ain’t he?” Jack slurred.
“I want to know about his wife…and his sons,” Batman elaborated darkly.
The man nodded rapidly. “Yeah, yeah. Only one of those kids was his, if that’s what you want to hear. But Cathy, she’s always with some’un or another. But the older one, he’s Willis’ alright. Good kid. Smart ‘ead on his shoulders.”
“Where is Catherine Todd?” Batman cut in. He didn’t have time to listen to Skinny Jack’s ramblings. He was on a tight schedule.
Jack forgot himself enough to laugh uproariously at the question. “Where? Where hasn’t that whore been?”
Batman slammed Jack roughly against the wall, reminded the fool just who he was talking to. “Keep the libel to yourself, Jack. I want the facts.”
“Sh-she could be anywhere. How should I know? I’m not ‘er keeper,” the man said.
“Then tell me where she’s been, Jack. Give me names: friends, ex-lovers, people who’ve sheltered Todd and her children,” Batman growled.
Without any further encouragement Skinny Jack sang like a bird.
When the man literally couldn’t dredge up another half remembered family friend, Batman dropped the shaken and bewildered louse on the ground and slipped back into the shadows. He was pleased. “Skinny Jack” had provided him with quite a list of names and places where the individuals bearing those names could be found.
It was a good start, but before he followed those leads, he stopped in at the address Jason had given him. The apartment that Jason had apparently lived in for a few months before he took the streets was abandoned, but Batman managed to track down the place’s “landlord.” The vile man was distinctly unhelpful and had nothing pleasant to say about anyone, especially the Todds.
Batman did however find out Catherine Todd’s ex-boyfriend’s name and that the two had had a rather explosive break-up a little over a month ago. The man also insisted that he hadn’t seen the “little bastard” around even before that. Batman almost crushed the contemptible creature’s windpipe when he made a comment about wishing Red, the boyfriend, had drowned the little brat in his bathwater.
Bruce felt only a little guilty about leaving the man suspended upside-down outside his own apartment building. Even though as far as Batman knew the man hadn’t technically done anything wrong, he highly suspected Todd’s old landlord had been less than honest in his business dealings. If he wasn’t in such a hurry he’d examine the books himself, but for now Batman had bigger fish to fry.
The Bat followed every lead, tracking down every last name that Skinny Jack had given him. Most of the leads went nowhere, but a few knew enough to lead him to other people who had had a more recent acquaintance with the Todds.
The most intriguing of the people he met was the the Soto woman Jason had mentioned. It turned out that she was the matriarch of a large Latino family in one of Gotham’s poorer, but relatively safer neighborhoods. She had half a dozen children and countless grandchildren and great grandchildren that she watched over as her children struggled to make ends meet. She had also apparently been one of Todd’s go-to babysitters for hours or days at a time.
The time Jason spent in Soto’s care had apparently endeared the boy to her, because of all the sources Batman interrogated that night; she was the only one who interrogated him in turn, demanding to know if the boy was well. Once she knew Jason was safe, she was very forthcoming, but warned in heavily accented English that if he didn’t have the boy’s best interests at heart that mythical creature of the night or not, she would not hesitate to put him over her knee and teach him a lesson about responsibility.
Batman rarely received threats from civilians, but this one felt surprisingly more intimidating (or perhaps humbling) than any other threat he’d gotten in quite some time.
As he left the woman’s home Bruce found himself thankful that Jason had had such a strong positive influence in his life. He also decided that Wayne Enterprises needed to invest in the area. Perhaps buy up the buildings, lower the rent and improve the utilities available to the inhabitants. And he should probably talk to Dr. Thompkins about upgrading the nearby free clinic. It was that time of year anyway, wasn’t it?
Batman scowled at himself and pushed his charitable thoughts to the side. He picked up Todd’s trail once more, following it from source to source until he finally found her.
He learned Todd’s current address courtesy of her dealer, a pathetic individual who the police would soon be picking up and then wasted no further time before heading to her location. There was high probability that she was “home” and the Bat knew that if she wasn’t it was very unlikely he’d be able to find her that night. He needed to find her, though. For Jason’s sake this needed to be taken care of as quickly and as discretely as possible. Bruce had no desire to drag this out and he didn’t want to think about what he’d have to do if Catherine Todd decided to fall off the radar again.
***
Batman slipped quickly and silently into the dilapidated apartment Catherine Todd and her current boyfriend were staying in. No one noticed his presence as he stalked through the shadows of the house, searching for his quarry.
She was there, sitting in a tiny kitchen, staring blankly off into space with unfocused eyes.
The boyfriend was passed out on the sofa, sleeping off what looked like a few dozen bottles of beer.
It was for the best. Batman wanted to have this conversation without any distractions and, from what Jason had said, any lover of Catherine Todd was likely to be highly unhelpful.
Batman came to a stop just to the woman’s right side and waited silently to be noticed. As he waited he observed her features. She had long, limp hair and dark circles beneath her eyes. She looked every inch the drug addict he’d expected, but what surprised him was that she only superficially resembled her son. Jason looked almost nothing like her, but Batman supposed the boy did take more after his father in terms of his appearance based on the years old photo of the man in Mr. Todd’s file.
“Good evening, Mrs. Todd,” the Bat greeted darkly when it became apparent that the woman wasn’t going to notice him on her own.
Catherine Todd jumped in surprise and nearly fell out of her chair at the sound of his voice. Good. Batman wanted to keep her off guard.
“You - you’re the Batman,” the woman said disbelievingly. “What are you - ” she cut herself off. “My boy,” she said, her eyes suddenly surprisingly clear. “My baby, something’s happened to him. He’s dead, isn’t he? No, nonono then they’d send the cops. Of course. No, he‘s in trouble. My Jason, who has him? What have they done to him?” Todd demanded, stumbling forward until she was clinging to Batman in obvious desperation.
That was not the response the Bat had expected.
“Your son is fine,” Batman said stiffly, trying to make sense of the woman before him.
Todd abruptly released him and would have fallen if Batman didn’t automatically reach out to support her. She brushed him off impatiently and staggered over to the counter.
“That’s good then,” she said inanely. “Would you like some coffee?” she asked as she fumbled with an old coffee maker. “Of course you do,” she berated herself as she continued in her self-appointed task.
She was shaking like a leaf.
“No thank you, Mrs. Todd,” Batman growled. He stalked over to her side and pried the coffeemaker from her hands before leading her back to her seat. “We have things to discuss.”
Todd looked up at him in confusion. “You said he was fine,” she said. It was an accusation.
“He is.”
“Then what is there is discuss?” she demanded. “He’s fine.”
“You’re his mother,” Batman said.
“Some mother I am.” She laughed bitterly, burying her face in her hands.
“You haven’t seen him for over a month,” Batman growled.
The woman said nothing.
Batman scowled in frustration. “Don’t you care about him at all?” Bruce demanded
Todd blinked slowly and turned to look up at him. She looked a great deal older than knew her to be. “Do you have a mother?” she asked after a prolonged silence.
Batman stiffened. How dare she speak of his mother? “What does that - ”
“Everything,” she said. She was silent for a few seconds before she continued, stumbling over her words as she spoke. “Everyone has a mother. I had one. You must have too, once, though maybe you don’t remember. It’s so very hard. I should never have been a mother, I know, I know, but I couldn’t leave him.”
“And now?” Batman asked, a little caught off guard by the woman’s ranting. Maybe she did care about Jason.
“You said he was fine,” she insisted.
“He is,” Batman agreed.
“Then he can stay where he is,” Todd said, gripping the edges of her chair tightly with trembling hands.
“You’ll take my word for it?” Batman asked.
“You had a mother didn’t you?” she asked inanely. “Batman is a demon, but even demons have mothers. The children say nice things about you. You don’t hurt kids. You don’t. So he’s fine and that’s good. Why are you here? Why are you dragging him back here? Let him go. Don’t tie him down. He’ll end up just like his bastard father - ” Her voice got progressively louder as she spoke until she abruptly cut herself off and began staring blankly into space again.
“Don’t you care what happens to him?” Bruce demanded. He wouldn’t let her run away from Jason, not physically, not mentally. Not if she really meant anything she said.
“Care? Of course I care,” Todd said, suddenly becoming animated with surprisingly forceful anger. “That’s why I have to let him go. Can’t be selfish, can I? Need to do what’s best for him.”
“He needs his mother,” Bruce said, already making plans. Catherine Todd was clearly not a lost clause. He could get her into a private rehab center for a start, but that wouldn’t be enough. He needed to find her stable employment and figure out a way to keep her away from the negative influences in her life. “There are people who can help you - ”
Todd laughed and laughed, silencing anything more Bruce might have said.
“Help?” she said through gasps of laughter. “What a riot. Help me.”
“I’m serious,” Bruce snapped. “Jason needs you.”
“He needs anything but me,” Todd corrected. She was no longer laughing. “I know what’s best for my son. And it isn’t me.”
“We can get you clean,” Bruce insisted. “There are doctors and specialists who can put you back together. You can start over - ”
Todd smiled sadly at him. “You’re sweet,” she said. “But I’m too old to change.”
“No one is too old to change,” Bruce said.
Todd kept smiling. “I am,” she said simply. “I’ve dug my grave. Let me lie in it in peace.”
Bruce’s hands tightened into fists at the finality in her voice. He couldn’t believe this woman.
“You’re afraid.” It was an accusation.
“No. I’m tired,” Todd corrected. “There’s a difference. Why are you here?”
“I’m here about your son, Jason,” Bruce said, knowing he was being redundant and not caring.
Todd just looked at him and Bruce realized that he wasn’t going to be able to change her mind. She wanted nothing to do with the boy.
“Your son helped out the son of a valued associate of mine. My associate has expressed interest in the boy and asked me to secure his future in whatever manner I could,” Batman said.
“Where do I sign?” Todd asked.
It couldn’t be that simple. Could it? Was this woman really so willing to sign her child away?
Batman pulled out the blank adoption papers he had prepared before he left for patrol that evening and handed them over to Todd. The woman glanced over the pages, but she said nothing even though she had obviously noticed that she truly was signing her child away without any idea what might happen to him.
She staggered over to the small kitchen table, the papers clutched in her hands. Batman followed her like a shadow. He handed her a pen and helpfully pointed out all the places she needed to sign. Once she was finished he gave her another set of papers that would ensure both her silence on the subject of the boy’s adoption and prevent her from reclaiming the rights she had just signed away. She signed them without question even after Batman explained what each form meant in explicit detail.
Once she was finished, Batman reclaimed the papers and whisked them safely out of sight. He waited a moment to see if she would change her mind, despite himself hoping that she would prove him wrong, that she would actually come through for the boy.
She remained silent and Batman turned to leave.
“Tell him I’m dead, if it helps,” Todd’s quiet voice cut through stale stillness of the apartment.
“Why would I do that?’ Bruce asked, refusing to turn to face the woman.
“I don’t want to hold him back. That boy…he’ll be better than I ever was. So, you take care of him. I’m trusting you, h-hear me?” Her voice cracked. Bruce realized with some surprise that she was crying.
He turned to face her and could barely stand to look at her watery eyes and tearstained cheeks. “Catherine, you don’t need to do this.” He was pleading, but she was crying.
“Tell him I’m dead,” she insisted. There were still tears in her eyes, but her eyes were clearer than they’d been all night, clearer, perhaps, than they’d been in years. “Tell him I’m dead and go away.”
Bruce nodded solemnly and Batman reluctantly vanished into the darkness.
***
On his way to take care of his last case of the night Batman went out of his way to stop three muggings, four robberies and a carjacking. He may have been slightly more…vehement in subduing his prey than usual, but he still made it across town with plenty of time to spare.
He had known what he was going to find, but the contrast between his first two cases and the last was still jarring. The tightly packed, interconnected world of Gotham’s slums seemed as though it should be worlds away from the sterile fastidiousness of Gotham’s white picket fence-lined suburbs, rather than just a few miles away.
Batman gazed at the Drake Family Residence and wondered what exactly he was doing here. There was nothing he could do in this place. Nothing he found here would help him decide what needed to be done with little Tim Drake.
And yet…
He needed to see this for himself.
Batman briefly considered going in through the front door, but on the off chance someone actually was inside the dark building, he entered through a window instead.
He quickly found that his caution was unnecessary.
A quick survey revealed what he knew to be true from looking at the Drake’s expenses. The only people to have set foot in the Drake House in the last month were the cleaning service and the gardener, both of whom visited once every two weeks. According to what he’d found earlier that day, the Drakes hadn’t even bothered to come back here during their brief return to the States when Tim had first disappeared.
Batman ghosted through the halls of the Manor. Every room he peered into was tastefully decorated with beautiful artwork and fine furniture. Each one looked like something out of an interior design magazine, prefect and untouched.
Furthering the impression of the house being a model rather than an actual residence was the complete absence of photographs. There were no portraits of either the Drakes or their son. No wedding or vacation photos. Nothing to identify the owners of the home unless one already knew who had had the place built seven years ago to rigorously high standards.
Batman frowned as he took in the distinct lack of personal items in any of the rooms. There were no knickknacks, no misplaced games or articles of clothing, no indulgences to be found unless one counted Jack Drake’s archeological findings. There were quite a few of those housed in glass cases throughout the house. That was it.
Bruce could not wrap his mind around the idea that a child had lived for five years in this house. Dick had only been living with him for two years and yet already he knew that Wayne Manor would never be the same. Dick didn’t mean to cause so much trouble, but the boy was always full of such energy and when one houses a circus child who can literally bounce off the walls, some chandeliers were occasionally lost in that glorious war against boredom. Despite Alfred’s best efforts there were few rooms in the Manor that did not bear the marks of Dick’s adventures. (The ones that hadn’t witnessed the brunt of Dick’s enthusiasm instead hid mislaid belongings tucked behind couches and under coffee tables.) Bruce honestly didn’t mind the mishaps or the mess (and he suspected Alfred loved it); they made the Manor feel alive for the first time since Bruce’s parents were murdered.
The Drake Household was not alive in any sense of the word. It felt as cold and empty as a tomb
Bruce could feel the house begin to suffocate him after only a few minutes.
No. He was being ridiculous. There was plenty of air in the hallway he was striding through, even if he was being painfully reminded of what it felt like when he wore his “Brucie” mask for too long. That constricting feeling of being boxed in until he felt like gasping for breath. He wondered how little Tim had endured living in this place in almost complete isolation for over five years…
He took a deep, steadying breath and made his way up the stairs. The sooner he finished this, the sooner he could go home to his childr- his ward.
There were many bedrooms on the second floor. One was obviously the master suit, but the others were harder to tell apart. He worried that it would be impossible to figure out which one was Tim’s, but his worries were at least partially allayed when he found the only room that could be Tim’s.
The Superman sheets were a dead giveaway.
Bruce smirked at the sight. It was a relief to know the boy had at least some paraphernalia of childhood even in this austere place. Still, he would need to get Tim proper sheets, regardless of what was decided about the boy’s future. Black and yellow was so much more tasteful than Clark’s eyesore color scheme.
Bruce looked away from the bed and took in the rest of the room. There were two bookcases laden down with books, none of which were for children and several of which were written in Greek, Latin and French.
There was a state of the art computer on a desk beside the bookcases and…that was it. There were no toys in the room barring a stack of educational games and DVDs stacked neatly next to the computer.
The room looked practically untouched. Not a book was out of (alphabetical) place and only their cracked spines shown that anyone had ever even read them. All of Tim’s clothing was neatly folded and put away, out of sight.
Bruce’s eye caught sight of something glinting on the bedside table and he moved forward to examine it. He frowned slightly as he carefully picked up the picture frame and took in the surreal sight of a grinning Dick Grayson hugging the life out of an even smaller Tim Drake.
The boy really had been there, he thought. He hadn’t doubted Tim or Dick, but seeing the proof here was odd. Especially since it was the only photo he had seen in the entire house. Meeting Dick…and watching the Graysons fall to their deaths had obviously had a strong effect on the boy.
Bruce set the picture frame down and began a more thorough search of the room. There wasn’t much to find. He a quick search under the bed revealed a well-used chemistry set complete with half empty vials of dangerous chemicals and a box filled with newspaper clippings detailing the exploits of Brucie Wayne and his ward, Richard Grayson. The very first clippings at the bottom of the box were from the day after the Grayson’s murder.
Yes. That night had apparently affected Tim deeply.
Bruce put the chemistry set back where he found it and placed Tim’s picture of that day at the circus in the shoe box. He closed up the box and tucked it under his arm.
Whatever was going to happen with Tim was going to take a while. It seemed like a worthless gesture, but Bruce couldn’t help but think that if he and Dick had been such a constant in the boy’s life even when the child’s parents weren’t, that perhaps Tim would want to have these.
Batman spared the room one last glance before slipping out of the house like the shadow he was, leaving it just as he had found it: silent and vacant of life.
Part 6