Chapter Text
It was a gray day in Gotham. The skies were a slate color, and all the light filtered through them made the world look pale and washed out. Timothy Drake was outside taking pictures of the sky. He didn’t often take pictures during the day, and wanted to experiment with lighting.
As he raised his camera, movement in the tree line of Wayne Manor caught his eye. He snapped a picture, and a second later realized why he shouldn’t have done that.
A person was in the tree.
Robin was in the tree.
Well, Jason Todd was in the tree. Which was the same thing, but Tim wasn’t supposed to know that. No one was supposed to know that. Likewise, no one was supposed to know that Jason was actually the second Robin. But considering Dick Grayson’s enthusiastic acrobatics and Jason’s equally enthusiastic punches, Tim wasn’t sure how they were planning to keep that secret for much longer.
The camera had caught Jason’s attention and he was swinging out of the tree and making his way to the property line, stalking forward like an angry alley cat. Tim briefly debated running, but he knew Jason could catch him easily and would only get more curious.
So he too approached the fence.
Maybe angry alley cat was the only way Jason knew how to walk? Because his face didn’t look all that angry on closer inspection. More wary, guarded. Like someone had thrown stones at him and now he was waiting for it to happen again.
“Did’ja have somethin’ ta say, half-pint, or were ya just gonna keep takin’ pictures like a stalker-weirdo?” Jason came to a stop on his side of the fence, and Tim stopped on his. He stuttered over his next words like some sort of little kid (and ten isn’t little).
“Not…. Not a stalker.” Was said quietly, “I thought maybe you were a bird.” He lifted his camera, like it was reassuring.
Jason still had a skeptical look on his face.
“I’d hafta’ be a pretty big bird.”
Tim nodded eagerly.
“Golden eagles have a wingspan of five and three quarters to seven and one half feet.” Oh no, what if Jason thought he was stupid for comparing him to an eagle, he should have said something smarter, this was Robin after all, Robin probably knew everything about birds and what if--
“No shi- uh, no kiddin’, huh kid?” Jason’s eyebrows lifted, even as he winced at almost saying the s word. It was fine, Tim knew what the s word was. It was in some of his books. “You’re the Drake kid, aintcha? We met at a gala last year, someone said somethin’ bout ‘you young chaps getting along’”
Tim blinked in surprise as the Bowery accent disappeared and an uppercrust British accent slid in to replace it. He smiled, and extended his hand through the fence.
“My name is Tim.”
Jason nodded, taking his hand and shaking it.
“‘M Jason.”
“I know. Mister Wayne adopted you last year.”
“Uhh, yeah, yeah he did. That why yer parents weren’t at Bruce’s parties? They don’t like adoption?”
“No! Oh no, of course not, they…. Support adoption. They were on a business trip. They are very busy.”
“Musta’ been a fun trip?”
“Oh, I did not go with them. I had schoolwork.”
“Ah, well that kinda sucks. They’re home now though?”
“They came home.” Jason nodded at that.
“That’s good. Bruce gets freaked out if’n he’s away for more than a day, and calls Alfred all the time to check up on us. He’s like some sorta massive worrier.” Tim tilted his head to the side. It must be nice to be worried about. “Speakin’ of, it’s just about dinner time, so’s I’m gonna head home, kid. But I’ll see ya?”
Struck dumb, Tim nodded and waved, and wandered back to the empty house. Robin had talked to him. Robin was going to see him again.
Robin
Tim decided that meeting at the fence was when it all started to go to shit. It was the beginning of course. It was only the second time they met. And Jason was a persistent person. Apparently, at some unknown point in the conversation, he decided Tim needed him. The kid had looked lonely, and they were neighbors, and he seemed cool enough. So Jason pulled a Bruce Wayne and adopted Tim.
But Tim didn’t want adopting. He had two perfectly capable, loving, emotionally and physically distant parents who kept his debit card paid and ordered a weekly grocery delivery. He had school. He had hobbies (some people call it stalking, Tim calls it observing the local nocturnal flora and fauna of Gotham). And it wasn’t that he didn’t want to hang out with Jason. He did. He absolutely did. But Jason was…. Smart. And observant. And was picking up on the fact that Tim was always alone when he came over.
Lately, Jason insisted on giving Tim a ride home from school with him and Alfred. Gotham Prep and Gotham Academy were so close, Jason argued, that it hardly made a difference. And on days when they didn’t have school, he would show up at Tim’s door with video games and snacks from Alfred.
So it makes sense that the one day Tim slips up, Jason is there. The one day when his vision’s blurry from not sleeping, and he was arguing with himself in his head, and his parents had been gone for so long now and he’s lonely again and and and…… His hand slipped, ok? That was all. His hand slipped, and the knife was sharp, and he spent all his time chasing vigilantes and blood shouldn’t bother him, but his arm was all red and the floor changed positions and he swore he heard knocking on the door as his eyes closed.
Jason wasn’t the stalker in the friendship, m’kay? He was pretty sure it was Tim. Tim just seemed to know things. Like when he wasn’t going to come over because he was too tired from patrolling, or when he wouldn’t be at school because he got injured. Not that Tim said anything. He was just never surprised, never disappointed. He accepted every half-baked excuse, but there was something in his eyes that didn’t believe them.
And to other people, sure, Jason was the stalker. He was the one always calling, always wanting to hang out, always coming up with excuses for Tim to eat dinner with him and Bruce. But he was worried. He had never seen the Drakes at their own house. Had never seen anyone there besides Tim. Oh and sure, Tim claims he has a housekeeper who spends the night, but Jason was there pretty late a couple times and no one showed up. Tim insisted he was fine. Tim insisted Jason go home. For all that Tim was timid and soft spoken, he insisted on a few things very well.
So Jason was at Tim’s front door again, just checking on him. Patrol had run a little long last night, but today was Saturday and he hung out with Tim on Saturday, just to make sure the hobbit ate something besides carrots with nacho cheese dip.
But there was no answer. Not when he knocked the first time or the fifth. And look, Jason wasn’t a stalker. But Robin….. Robin was kinda a stalker. Especially when it came to little kids with not enough supervision who definitely needed a friend, or something like that. And Robin’s adrenaline had shot through the roof when Tim didn’t answer his second knock. Tim always answered by the second knock.
It didn’t take long for him to decide to slip around to a window. Tim would usually be in the kitchen cutting carrots for a snack right now. And sure enough, there were the carrots on the counter, he could see them through the window, and he could see the knife where it had fallen…… Next to Tim.
Tim was on the floor. And there was a bloody knife next to him.
Wasting time on lockpicking wasn’t an option. So a rock went through the window. Then Jason went through the window. And Jason did Robin things. Checked for a pulse. Shone a penlight in his eyes. Found the long shallow cut on his arm. Wrapped it.
Called Bruce.
Called Alfred.
Called 911, and stayed on the phone with them as they told him how to make sure Tim was safe. Bruce showed up through the broken window, having run the whole way from the manor. They were both there with Tim when the first responders arrived. Jason rode with Alfred to the hospital while Bruce rode with Tim. And Jason finally started to cry.
Everything was murky and gray. Like soup, but what kind of soup was gray? It was gross, he didn’t like the sensation of swimming in gray soup, it was probably from the sewer. And he could hear things through the sewer-soup-water.
Beeping. Wooshing. Bruce arguing on the phone. Jason breathing. Footsteps.
“Dad. Bruce. I think he’s wakin’ up.”
“Be right there Jaylad. Now look, I don’t care how, you need to find those two and tell them their son is in the hospital. I’ll be calling again.”
As Tim’s eyes opened, he could make out two dark blobs, one bigger than the other, leaning over him.
“Tim? Hey Tim, do you know where you are?” The bigger blob was talking, in a really nice, soothing, rumbly kind of voice. The kind of voice Batman uses when talking to children.
The smaller blob seemed to be almost vibrating. As Tim focused, the blob solidified into Jason’s face. Jason’s worried, worried face.
Crap.
Jason’s eyes began swimming with tears as soon as Tim opened his mouth
“Hi.” He winced, coughing slightly. Bruce leaned over him, offering a cup with a straw. Tim took a few sips, took a few breaths, and looked at Bruce. “Why am I in the hospital?”
“Well, pal, you had an accident at home. Jason found you and an ambulance brought you here. I just called a nurse, they’ll be here in a minute to tell you more. Is that ok?”
Tim nodded. He couldn’t remember yet, couldn’t reach back through the sewer-soup-water filling his brain to remember any accident. But Bruce and Jason were here. He would be fine.