Strays - Part 3
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
Once the boys were safely out of earshot, Bruce tucked away his amusement at the children’s antics and turned his attention back to the matter at hand. He couldn’t get attached to them, he reminded himself firmly. They weren’t his to keep and no playfully worded hints from Dick would change that.
“What did you find out, Alfred?” he asked seriously.
The butler smiled tightly. “You should eat your breakfast first, Master Bruce. I suspect it will get cold before we finish our discussion.”
Bruce bit back on his annoyance at being told what to do like he was still a child himself. He knew better than to be petulant in the face of Alfred’s mother-hen tendencies. Then man would have no problem withholding information for as long as he deemed necessary in order to see that his charges were properly cared for. It was an invaluable trait that was only occasionally this exasperating. But the questions were burning in his mind. He needed -
The Billionaire sighed. He considered that he might be getting a little overinvested in this case and cast Alfred a rueful smile as he pointedly put a bite of pancake in his mouth.
Alfred nodded approvingly and quietly collected the boys’ dishes. He cleaned them with his usual tidy efficiency and put them away as Bruce finished his meal.
Once he was done Bruce brought his own plate up to the sink. He washed it himself despite Alfred’s protests because he felt like it, not because he was feeling petty.
Alfred just raised a very British eyebrow at him.
Bruce suspected the man was silently laughing at him and knew that this was one area of his life in which he could never win.
He was surprisingly okay with that.
“If you’re done holding out on me, Alfred,” Bruce prompted with only half feigned petulance as he retook his seat at the kitchen table.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Master Bruce,” Alfred said as he sat down across from Bruce. “I am simply looking out for your wellbeing as best I can.”
Bruce chuckled; he should know better by now than to underestimate the man before him. “And I am very thankful for all that you do. Dick and I would be lost without you, you know.”
Alfred smiled. “I do what I can, sir.”
“I caught Jason attempting to steal one of my great grandmother’s exotic paperweights…among other things,” Bruce said casually, steering the conversation back to the question of their young guests.
“Ah,” Alfred said, immediately recognizing which piece Bruce was referring to. “Well, it was…difficult to find a…suitable place for such a…unique piece.”
Bruce smirked. “You can admit that’s it’s an ugly abomination and that you’d be glad to be rid of it Alfred, I won’t tell.”
“I think nothing of the sort Master Bruce. I’m appalled that you think otherwise,” The butler said.
Bruce bit back on an amused chuckle and frowned slightly as he remembered how that particular exchange with Jason had ended. “He seemed to be under the impression that we’d just be throwing them right back onto the street and that he’d need the money to take care of Tim…He was thinking about stealing the tires off one of the cars in the garage,” Bruce recalled and couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the memory.
“Master Jason is certainly a rare individual,” Alfred said. “Young Master Timothy seems to be of the opinion that Master Jason hung the moon in the sky.”
“Oh?” Bruce said. “I thought for sure that was what he thought of Dick.”
Alfred shook his head slightly. “Not exactly, sir. Master Jason may have hung the moon, but I believe that Master Timothy is of the opinion that Master Richard is responsible for making the sun and all of the stars in sky shine while simultaneously keeping the Earth spinning on its axis.”
“An impressive feat for a boy of ten,” Bruce noted.
“Yes, well, it seems that there hasn’t been a great deal of light in that boy’s life,” Alfred said, for the first time letting his distress appear just beneath the surface of his ever-present calm façade.
“I got that impression as well,” Bruce agreed. “But I need more than guesses to work with. Did he say anything?”
“What he did and did not say were both quite telling,” Alfred said, but did not elaborate.
Bruce waited.
After what felt like a short eternity of silence, Alfred said, “He…I learned Master Timothy’s full name.” He paused again and Bruce knew without a doubt that the man was deeply troubled by what he knew. But Bruce did not push. He knew better than that by now.
“His name is Timothy Drake,” Alfred said finally.
The Billionaire reared back in surprise. He couldn’t quite believe his ears.
“Drake? Really?” Bruce demanded. “He told you that was his name?”
Bruce’s mind raced. Drake. That couldn’t possibly be true, could it? But if it was, it would certainly explain why Tim had been in shock and the sudden fear the child has exhibited earlier that day when prompted to remember what had happened before Jason found him. It would explain the facts, but the implications…
“Indeed, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, that troubled look more obvious now than ever. “I was as surprised as you.”
“All reports indicated that the boy was dead,” Bruce muttered almost to himself as he considered the fragmented pieces of the puzzle before him.
“As I recall they never found the body,” Alfred reminded him.
“I know that,” Bruce snapped more harshly than he intended. Luckily Alfred simply graced him with a patient look and waited for Bruce to gather his thoughts and calm himself. “But it’s been weeks, Alfred,” he protested. “It doesn’t…” he trailed off, considering the possibilities. Almost immediately he found a plausible explanation that needed to be considered regardless of the way the thought made his stomach twist uncomfortably. “Was the boy lying about his name?” Bruce asked.
“It is a possibility, but I find it unlikely.” Alfred’s response was quick and concise. There was no doubt in his eyes.
“Oh?” Bruce was curious.
“His reactions were too… odd to be faked,” Alfred explained.
“What do you mean?” Bruce pressed.
Alfred considered the question. “He was rather matter of fact about everything up until the accident and about everything that followed it.” The disapproving look was quite strong now. “He seemed more upset about what happened to his nanny than anything else, including almost getting killed by Clayface last night. She was the one thing he refused to talk about.”
“Nanny?” Bruce asked, mentally flipping through the sparse facts he remembered about the incident. “You mean the older woman who was among the dead.”
“Yes. Apparently the boy was quite fond of her.”
“You said he wouldn’t talk about her.” It wasn’t quite an accusation, but somehow the more he learned, the less sense the story made.
“He wouldn’t. Or rather he refused to speak about what happened to her. I suspect he may have seen her body. But he had a great deal to say about the woman she had been. He said that she was very nice and read to him even though he could do it on his own and that she even hugged him sometimes, which was apparently a rare treat,” Alfred finished, not bothering to hide his indignation at the words he was reporting.
Bruce frowned at the suddenly scathing tone in Alfred’s voice. The man was rarely so blunt in his condemnation. But Tim’s strange responses to physical affection were not the mystery here. “You think he may have seen the body,” Bruce said. “That could be traumatic to a boy his age.”
“Or to a person of any age,” Alfred said astutely, his anger once more hidden from view.
“…Of course,” Bruce agreed, his mind automatically shying away from the echo of two decades old gunshots.
“And the parents?” he asked, a tinge of the Bat creeping into his voice as he struggled to control himself.
“What of them?” Alfred asked.
“What did he say about them, aside from them being in Brazil,” he elaborated, but the question was still more Bat than man.
“The boy had almost nothing to say about them,” Alfred said with a look that spoke volumes. Troubling volumes.
“The media is still running their pleas for any word about Tim Drake’s whereabouts on nearly every channel at least twice an hour, Alfred. I see them every time I turn on the television,” he pointed out.
“Yes sir,” Alfred agreed. “The exact same recordings they’ve been playing since the beginning.”
He frowned. This situation was far more complicated than he had initially thought. “I’m going to need to look into this. I should have paid more attention to the case from the beginning, but it seemed so straight forward. Open and shut tragedy. I should have known it would be anything but in a place like Gotham. I should have taken the matter into my own hands,” Batman growled.
“You can’t blame yourself for that, sir. There was no way to - ” Alfred attempted to protest, but he wasn’t listening. He couldn’t listen.
“He was in shock, Alfred.” Bruce, he was definitely all Bruce now, ranted. “Shock. All the signs were there. Jason was terrified for him, he wouldn’t admit it, but I could tell. I don’t know how, but Jason managed to take care of him. But what if he hadn’t? Can you imagine a boy that Tim’s age wandering around downtown Gotham in that state? Anything could have happened to him. I should have - ”
“Indeed, Master Bruce,” Alfred said. “But what’s done is done. And worrying over what-ifs will get you nowhere.” The butler paused for a moment to be sure he had Bruce’s attention. He did, though it was taking a great deal of effort for the world’s greatest detective to reign in his anger at his own negligence. “For once, sir,” Alfred said, “I fear you’re not asking the right question.”
“And what would the right question be?” Bruce asked.
“Consider, Master Bruce, that despite his youth; Master Timothy is a very intelligent child. If he wanted to go home, it would not have been beyond his abilities to accomplish that.”
Bruce reflected and knew almost immediately that Alfred was right. The boy could have found a cop or could have deciphered a map and found his way either to Drake Industries or to his own home. The child was fearless enough to chase after Robin, if the boy had been determined enough there was a high likelihood he would have been found weeks ago.
But Tim Drake hadn’t been found weeks ago. The child likely wouldn’t have been found at all if Tim and Jason hadn’t met Dick and somehow caused his ward to take leave of his senses and want to adopt them. That implied that Tim didn’t want to be found. And that had to be due to more than just the death of a beloved nanny.
“So…the question is why was the son of two of the wealthiest people in Gotham content to live in a box in one of the worst areas of Gotham with a street urchin for several weeks,” Bruce said slowly.
Alfred nodded. “Perhaps you see my point.”
“Jason clearly has no idea who Tim is, besides considering himself Tim’s ‘brother.’ He had no idea that Tim actually had a family,” Bruce said. Then he remembered Jason’s comment about the boy looking as though he had walked through a meat grinder. “Alfred, why would he - ”
“I suspect that Master Timothy was not quite in the right frame of mind when he first encountered Master Jason. And after that…” Alfred suddenly looked quite old. “In truth, I think that the young Master stayed because Master Jason was kind to him.”
“That’s all?” Bruce asked, but it wasn’t really a question. All of the signs were starting to point in a single rather unpleasant direction.
“I would not dream of casting aspersions on strangers, sir,” Alfred said. “But when a child acts the way Master Timothy does, one must…draw certain conclusions.”
“You think they abuse him,” Bruce said flatly.
“Perhaps. What I have seen has been deeply troubling. He - ” Alfred broke off and reconsidered his words before beginning again. “No child should be so confused by the prospect of another person wanting to be in his presence for even a moderate length of time.”
Bruce frowned. That…complicated matters quite a bit. With enough money lining the right pockets, he could have Jason sent some place where the child could flourish, but it was already quite clear that Jason wasn’t going anywhere without Tim. And Tim…well, it was too soon to make assumptions, regardless of Alfred’s feelings on the matter.
He was distracted from his train of thought by Alfred getting up from the table. Bruce looked up at the man who raised him, a question in his eyes.
Alfred smiled thinly. “But of course there are still a lot of empty spaces in that narrative that need clarification. And who better to fill them than yourself? As for the other matter, I wouldn’t worry about it too much at the moment, sir. These things have a way of working themselves out.” Bruce wondered what exactly the butler meant by that, but Alfred’s mask was already firmly in place as he tutted, “Now, I have chores to do and you, I suspect, have some files to sift through. If you’ll excuse me, sir.”
And with that Alfred strode from the room, leaving Bruce alone with his thoughts.
Part 4
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
Once the boys were safely out of earshot, Bruce tucked away his amusement at the children’s antics and turned his attention back to the matter at hand. He couldn’t get attached to them, he reminded himself firmly. They weren’t his to keep and no playfully worded hints from Dick would change that.
“What did you find out, Alfred?” he asked seriously.
The butler smiled tightly. “You should eat your breakfast first, Master Bruce. I suspect it will get cold before we finish our discussion.”
Bruce bit back on his annoyance at being told what to do like he was still a child himself. He knew better than to be petulant in the face of Alfred’s mother-hen tendencies. Then man would have no problem withholding information for as long as he deemed necessary in order to see that his charges were properly cared for. It was an invaluable trait that was only occasionally this exasperating. But the questions were burning in his mind. He needed -
The Billionaire sighed. He considered that he might be getting a little overinvested in this case and cast Alfred a rueful smile as he pointedly put a bite of pancake in his mouth.
Alfred nodded approvingly and quietly collected the boys’ dishes. He cleaned them with his usual tidy efficiency and put them away as Bruce finished his meal.
Once he was done Bruce brought his own plate up to the sink. He washed it himself despite Alfred’s protests because he felt like it, not because he was feeling petty.
Alfred just raised a very British eyebrow at him.
Bruce suspected the man was silently laughing at him and knew that this was one area of his life in which he could never win.
He was surprisingly okay with that.
“If you’re done holding out on me, Alfred,” Bruce prompted with only half feigned petulance as he retook his seat at the kitchen table.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Master Bruce,” Alfred said as he sat down across from Bruce. “I am simply looking out for your wellbeing as best I can.”
Bruce chuckled; he should know better by now than to underestimate the man before him. “And I am very thankful for all that you do. Dick and I would be lost without you, you know.”
Alfred smiled. “I do what I can, sir.”
“I caught Jason attempting to steal one of my great grandmother’s exotic paperweights…among other things,” Bruce said casually, steering the conversation back to the question of their young guests.
“Ah,” Alfred said, immediately recognizing which piece Bruce was referring to. “Well, it was…difficult to find a…suitable place for such a…unique piece.”
Bruce smirked. “You can admit that’s it’s an ugly abomination and that you’d be glad to be rid of it Alfred, I won’t tell.”
“I think nothing of the sort Master Bruce. I’m appalled that you think otherwise,” The butler said.
Bruce bit back on an amused chuckle and frowned slightly as he remembered how that particular exchange with Jason had ended. “He seemed to be under the impression that we’d just be throwing them right back onto the street and that he’d need the money to take care of Tim…He was thinking about stealing the tires off one of the cars in the garage,” Bruce recalled and couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the memory.
“Master Jason is certainly a rare individual,” Alfred said. “Young Master Timothy seems to be of the opinion that Master Jason hung the moon in the sky.”
“Oh?” Bruce said. “I thought for sure that was what he thought of Dick.”
Alfred shook his head slightly. “Not exactly, sir. Master Jason may have hung the moon, but I believe that Master Timothy is of the opinion that Master Richard is responsible for making the sun and all of the stars in sky shine while simultaneously keeping the Earth spinning on its axis.”
“An impressive feat for a boy of ten,” Bruce noted.
“Yes, well, it seems that there hasn’t been a great deal of light in that boy’s life,” Alfred said, for the first time letting his distress appear just beneath the surface of his ever-present calm façade.
“I got that impression as well,” Bruce agreed. “But I need more than guesses to work with. Did he say anything?”
“What he did and did not say were both quite telling,” Alfred said, but did not elaborate.
Bruce waited.
After what felt like a short eternity of silence, Alfred said, “He…I learned Master Timothy’s full name.” He paused again and Bruce knew without a doubt that the man was deeply troubled by what he knew. But Bruce did not push. He knew better than that by now.
“His name is Timothy Drake,” Alfred said finally.
The Billionaire reared back in surprise. He couldn’t quite believe his ears.
“Drake? Really?” Bruce demanded. “He told you that was his name?”
Bruce’s mind raced. Drake. That couldn’t possibly be true, could it? But if it was, it would certainly explain why Tim had been in shock and the sudden fear the child has exhibited earlier that day when prompted to remember what had happened before Jason found him. It would explain the facts, but the implications…
“Indeed, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, that troubled look more obvious now than ever. “I was as surprised as you.”
“All reports indicated that the boy was dead,” Bruce muttered almost to himself as he considered the fragmented pieces of the puzzle before him.
“As I recall they never found the body,” Alfred reminded him.
“I know that,” Bruce snapped more harshly than he intended. Luckily Alfred simply graced him with a patient look and waited for Bruce to gather his thoughts and calm himself. “But it’s been weeks, Alfred,” he protested. “It doesn’t…” he trailed off, considering the possibilities. Almost immediately he found a plausible explanation that needed to be considered regardless of the way the thought made his stomach twist uncomfortably. “Was the boy lying about his name?” Bruce asked.
“It is a possibility, but I find it unlikely.” Alfred’s response was quick and concise. There was no doubt in his eyes.
“Oh?” Bruce was curious.
“His reactions were too… odd to be faked,” Alfred explained.
“What do you mean?” Bruce pressed.
Alfred considered the question. “He was rather matter of fact about everything up until the accident and about everything that followed it.” The disapproving look was quite strong now. “He seemed more upset about what happened to his nanny than anything else, including almost getting killed by Clayface last night. She was the one thing he refused to talk about.”
“Nanny?” Bruce asked, mentally flipping through the sparse facts he remembered about the incident. “You mean the older woman who was among the dead.”
“Yes. Apparently the boy was quite fond of her.”
“You said he wouldn’t talk about her.” It wasn’t quite an accusation, but somehow the more he learned, the less sense the story made.
“He wouldn’t. Or rather he refused to speak about what happened to her. I suspect he may have seen her body. But he had a great deal to say about the woman she had been. He said that she was very nice and read to him even though he could do it on his own and that she even hugged him sometimes, which was apparently a rare treat,” Alfred finished, not bothering to hide his indignation at the words he was reporting.
Bruce frowned at the suddenly scathing tone in Alfred’s voice. The man was rarely so blunt in his condemnation. But Tim’s strange responses to physical affection were not the mystery here. “You think he may have seen the body,” Bruce said. “That could be traumatic to a boy his age.”
“Or to a person of any age,” Alfred said astutely, his anger once more hidden from view.
“…Of course,” Bruce agreed, his mind automatically shying away from the echo of two decades old gunshots.
“And the parents?” he asked, a tinge of the Bat creeping into his voice as he struggled to control himself.
“What of them?” Alfred asked.
“What did he say about them, aside from them being in Brazil,” he elaborated, but the question was still more Bat than man.
“The boy had almost nothing to say about them,” Alfred said with a look that spoke volumes. Troubling volumes.
“The media is still running their pleas for any word about Tim Drake’s whereabouts on nearly every channel at least twice an hour, Alfred. I see them every time I turn on the television,” he pointed out.
“Yes sir,” Alfred agreed. “The exact same recordings they’ve been playing since the beginning.”
He frowned. This situation was far more complicated than he had initially thought. “I’m going to need to look into this. I should have paid more attention to the case from the beginning, but it seemed so straight forward. Open and shut tragedy. I should have known it would be anything but in a place like Gotham. I should have taken the matter into my own hands,” Batman growled.
“You can’t blame yourself for that, sir. There was no way to - ” Alfred attempted to protest, but he wasn’t listening. He couldn’t listen.
“He was in shock, Alfred.” Bruce, he was definitely all Bruce now, ranted. “Shock. All the signs were there. Jason was terrified for him, he wouldn’t admit it, but I could tell. I don’t know how, but Jason managed to take care of him. But what if he hadn’t? Can you imagine a boy that Tim’s age wandering around downtown Gotham in that state? Anything could have happened to him. I should have - ”
“Indeed, Master Bruce,” Alfred said. “But what’s done is done. And worrying over what-ifs will get you nowhere.” The butler paused for a moment to be sure he had Bruce’s attention. He did, though it was taking a great deal of effort for the world’s greatest detective to reign in his anger at his own negligence. “For once, sir,” Alfred said, “I fear you’re not asking the right question.”
“And what would the right question be?” Bruce asked.
“Consider, Master Bruce, that despite his youth; Master Timothy is a very intelligent child. If he wanted to go home, it would not have been beyond his abilities to accomplish that.”
Bruce reflected and knew almost immediately that Alfred was right. The boy could have found a cop or could have deciphered a map and found his way either to Drake Industries or to his own home. The child was fearless enough to chase after Robin, if the boy had been determined enough there was a high likelihood he would have been found weeks ago.
But Tim Drake hadn’t been found weeks ago. The child likely wouldn’t have been found at all if Tim and Jason hadn’t met Dick and somehow caused his ward to take leave of his senses and want to adopt them. That implied that Tim didn’t want to be found. And that had to be due to more than just the death of a beloved nanny.
“So…the question is why was the son of two of the wealthiest people in Gotham content to live in a box in one of the worst areas of Gotham with a street urchin for several weeks,” Bruce said slowly.
Alfred nodded. “Perhaps you see my point.”
“Jason clearly has no idea who Tim is, besides considering himself Tim’s ‘brother.’ He had no idea that Tim actually had a family,” Bruce said. Then he remembered Jason’s comment about the boy looking as though he had walked through a meat grinder. “Alfred, why would he - ”
“I suspect that Master Timothy was not quite in the right frame of mind when he first encountered Master Jason. And after that…” Alfred suddenly looked quite old. “In truth, I think that the young Master stayed because Master Jason was kind to him.”
“That’s all?” Bruce asked, but it wasn’t really a question. All of the signs were starting to point in a single rather unpleasant direction.
“I would not dream of casting aspersions on strangers, sir,” Alfred said. “But when a child acts the way Master Timothy does, one must…draw certain conclusions.”
“You think they abuse him,” Bruce said flatly.
“Perhaps. What I have seen has been deeply troubling. He - ” Alfred broke off and reconsidered his words before beginning again. “No child should be so confused by the prospect of another person wanting to be in his presence for even a moderate length of time.”
Bruce frowned. That…complicated matters quite a bit. With enough money lining the right pockets, he could have Jason sent some place where the child could flourish, but it was already quite clear that Jason wasn’t going anywhere without Tim. And Tim…well, it was too soon to make assumptions, regardless of Alfred’s feelings on the matter.
He was distracted from his train of thought by Alfred getting up from the table. Bruce looked up at the man who raised him, a question in his eyes.
Alfred smiled thinly. “But of course there are still a lot of empty spaces in that narrative that need clarification. And who better to fill them than yourself? As for the other matter, I wouldn’t worry about it too much at the moment, sir. These things have a way of working themselves out.” Bruce wondered what exactly the butler meant by that, but Alfred’s mask was already firmly in place as he tutted, “Now, I have chores to do and you, I suspect, have some files to sift through. If you’ll excuse me, sir.”
And with that Alfred strode from the room, leaving Bruce alone with his thoughts.
Part 4