Chapter Text
The Wayne last name is something Tim likes to use about as much as he likes chewing glass shards and washing them down with sewer mud. Very little, and done only when no other option is convenient. Unfortunately, people react so much quicker if Tim Wayne calls in. As Damian likes to say, the Drakes haven’t been important in this wretched city for a long while.
As predicted the police dispatch lady was very animated, and promised that a patrol car would be at his location quickly. He huffed out a laugh and watched the little mist cloud swirl and fade. They wouldn’t be there soon enough to catch him. The thief at his feet was bleeding from two very pesky bullet wounds, and would need all their attention. Tim smiled down at him one more time.
“Gosh, GPD is really helpful these days! But I do think I gave the dispatch lady the wrong address. What are we going to do now mister? I could call back…but it’s not that far! Don’t want to make her night any longer now, do we?”
With that Tim’s arms shoot out and grab the bleeding man under his arms, lifting him up with a strength no one would expect of a scrawny teen. The man’s not that impressed, what with his wounds screaming at him and all. Tim doesn’t seem to mind, humming circus music along the way. He drags him a full two blocks before dropping him like a bag of rocks.
“Well sir, it seems your ride will be here shortly. I do hope you have some cash on you, I’m afraid I left my cab fare money in my other suit jacket. Really, it was a stupid thing to do you know, shooting yourself like that. Could have hurt yourself!” Tim’s smile was all teeth, red lipstick stuck to the edges of his lips.
“I don’t think insurance covers stupidity, you know? Because that’s exactly what happened here tonight, isn’t it Edwin?”
The thug flinched. He didn’t say anything as Tim’s face stared at him from a few inches away, close enough to see his eyelashes. The longer he stayed silent the larger Tim’s smile grew. Edwin nodded. Tim pats his shoulder.
“Lovely. And hey, maybe now those silly little scars and long lasting pain will remind you not to try and rob single mothers and the sick and dying! Really Edwin, it’s a net positive if you ask me.”
Satisfied, he turns towards the fire escapes and leaves the cops with a case solved and delivered.
Just like the good old days.
Maybe a bit more blood and a little less bat paraphernalia, but really, no need to nitpick.
He sits down on the edge of the building above the alley and listens in as Edwin’s cries of pain are soon joined by a siren and his stuttering confessions of accidental self-harm. Things wrap up quick. He even calls the dispatch lady and tells her kindly how the man ran away from him and he lost him in the dark night. After all, who’s going to question it, he’s Bruce Wayne’s "perfect" son after all.
And Batman is on the other side of the city. Something about an Arkham breakout.
Tim fishes out a compact mirror from his pocket, noting he got some of Edwin’s blood on his favorite suit. Lucky that red hides blood so well. His makeup wasn’t so lucky on the other hand, his lipstick was more gone than not, his white foundation left in splotches around his eyes and cheekbones, the green hairspray clung to the tips of his hair but gone from the roots. He still looked nothing like his billboard self, but it was the principal of the thing.
“I am an absolute insult to mimes everywhere.”
Soft footsteps bring Tim’s eyes back to the alley. Had one of the cops come back? Maybe someone thought Tim would follow the blood trail or something? No, that’s a bit too logical for the GPD. A small shadow sticks its head out of the alley, a red hood covering its face. The little thing is shaking, and Tim realizes it might not be from the cold.
It didn’t add up. Tim plans ahead. Tim checks everything. There was no one in that alley when Tim passed it twenty minutes ago, and nowhere anyone could really hide. There was nothing out of order when he looked at it while graciously putting Edwin down. His motion camera above the alley didn’t alert him to anything. It was a half abandoned street in Park Row, famous for gang shoot outs. Logically there shouldn’t have been a witness.
And yet.
Tim watches as the kid runs out of the alley and bolts like a speedster on a sugar rush. Tim’s got a lot of experience with those so he tracks him down to a different crumbling alley, this one even darker than the last, tucked next to an Indian restaurant and a decrepit apartment building that has more bullet holes in it than windows. The kid walks to the cardboard boxes stacked next to the restaurant and deposits his backpack there. The hood comes off and Tim sees his witness is a little boy of maybe eight with a head of dark curls and skin grey from the cold. His clothes are torn and ragged, dirty with mud and oil. He’s terrified, shaking hands trying to pack what little he stashed in the boxes into the backpack as quick as possible. Running away.
Tim decided it was time to put a name to the face so he softly descended from his spot on the building above. The kid still heard him though. He froze, blue eyes glued to Tim, wide and horrified.
“Hello.”
The kid didn’t move.
“I’m afraid you might have seen something that caused a misunderstanding back there. “
The kid straigtened his back.
“I did…didn’t see nothin’. Jus’ two drunk guys having too much fun is al’”
Tim hummed noncommittally.
“See, that’s not what you saw! What you saw was one wounded guy, maybe a drunk, wandering along all on his lonesome! There was no one else there to help the poor guy. Isn’t that right?”
At this the kid narrowed his gaze at Tim, and maybe if he wasn’t a shivering mess it would have looked a bit cute.
“Don’ see how someone with two bullet wounds could just walk around by ‘imself “
Tim grinned. Someone was a spunky little urchin.
“Christmas miracle?
“It ain’t Christmas.”
“Hanukha surprise?”
“It’s January!”
“Late New Year’s miracle then!”
“You shoulda asked Santa to get smarter. Your plan sucks.”
At this Tim just looked at the kid funny. He said it as he scrunched his nose and the little freckles on his face went along with it, the upper twist of his eyebrows telling Tim the boy was very much not impressed with his ideas. It was a picture that went beautifully with the phrase “I’m surrounded by idiots”, and not in the condescending way like it did with Damian.
Tim laughed. It wasn’t loud like Connor’s laugh, or unending like Stephanie’s tear filled gaffs but warm all the same. It was meant to only be heard by those closest.
“Yeah, probably. Santa said he was all out of smarts this year though, something about a shortage over in Metropolis.”
The kid shifted from foot to foot.
“Yeah, sounds nice. T’ink I’ll try getting’ there then, see you never mister.”
But the kid didn’t make it a foot away before Tim caught his hood.
“Not quite so fast kid. Can’t let you leave quite yet”
And the kid took that as a sign to twist around and pull a tire iron out of his bag, straight into Tim’s stomach. The kid is barley tall enough to reach a counter and could be blown away by a strong wind but he had a hell of a swing. By the time Tim straightened out the kid was at the mouth of the alley. And well, Tim did feel a bit bad when the kid hit the ground roughly, Tim's batarang wires tying his legs together, but this really needed to be solved. He lifted the kid by his arms.
“Look kid I really-“
“Let go of me you creep!”
“Yeah, sorry but no.”
The kid just thrashed harder.
“I don’t hurt kids you know, only criminals”
“Then le’me go!”
“Not until we get this straight.”
“Get wha’ straight! No one will say anythin’ I promise!” The kid looked Tim in the eyes , and fear shined through the annoyance.
“We all know who you are” he whispered. “ No one says nothin’ cause you…you’re more terrifyin’ than any of tha’ others. But ya also don’ hurt no one but the bad guys, so…I won’ tell. Promise. Just please lemme go”
The kid stopped thrashing and Tim could see he was trying not to cry, his breaths quick and eyes shiny.
“What’s your name?”
“Please don’t.” His breath hitched and the words tumbled out. ”I don’t want to disappear because I fell asleep in some stupid side alley and woke up at the wrong time. Please.”
And well, Tim wasn’t Robin anymore. No one was, and if he had any say in it no one would be. But Robin’s job was to comfort the kids, and some habits die hard.
“I won’t hurt you kid, promise. Just want to make sure my stupid plan doesn’t hurt anyone yeah?”
With that he led the kid back to the box and put him down. He realized the kid actually slept there. There was a musty blanket and the cardboard was placed on the floor and against the wall. Far away it looked just like any old box but like this it was a little nook.
“You sleep here? Isn’t it too cold?”
The kid sniffed. “It’s better than nothin’.The place next door uses an old wood stove and it’s rig’t by this wall so it’s a lot warmer than tha’ other spots ‘round town.”
Tim kept his face impassive, but thought about how nights on the street go well into freezing temperatures. He remembered how even an insulated Robin suit and cape couldn’t fully keep him from shivering in the snowy wind. He thought about a street kid, dressed in just a hoodie curling into cardboard trying to keep warm. He thought of Batman’s cape suddenly hanging on Robin's shoulders keeping the cold away, and remembered that the restaurant next door closes and turns the heat off before midnight even comes. He suddenly felt cold himself.
“Hmm. Smart. So why’d you fall asleep in the alley over there then?”
“I…I dunno. I was looking for scraps when my head felt real bad. I just closed my eyes for a sec and the next thing I know you’re with that guy in front of the ally…Oh! I mean that guy is in front of the alley all on his own and you’re nowher’ in sight.” The kid laughs nervously.
Sudden headache huh? Hunger maybe? There’s no injuries from what Tim can see.
“And your name which you so graciously didn’t give me earlier?”
At this the kid clams up.
“Oh come on kid we were doing so well. If I tell you mine will that even it out?”
“You’re Tim Drake.”
“Oh, I’m flattered.”
“Wayne’s kid. But people round here, they just call you Red Hood”
“Hmm, I’m less faltered that the Wayne part came before the Red Hood part but still nice I suppose.”
“You’re not angry I know?”
“Well you did see my face, and my makeup has been absolutely terrible tonight. And well, I am Arkham's most famous inmate.”
“So then why the whole show wit’ the cops and everythin’?”
“I’m trying to piss someone off by doing a better job than them and not wearing mask.”
“Who?”
“Batman, Nightwing and depending on the day of the week Batgirl. Tim Drake has oh so helpfully taken care of three wanted criminals this week alone. ”
“You really are crazy then.”
“That’s what they tell me.” With that Tim curtsied to his audience.
“Well, at least you’re crazy on the right side. You’re the only one helpin’ ‘round here.”
“That why you’re not screaming murder right now?”
The kid shrugged. “You were…you saved a girl last week. She showed me where the good dumpsters are. She told everyone who’d listen the Red Hood was coming back to the alley and this time”, the kid looked him straight in the eyes, ”he was doin’ what everyone needed. So. Thanks I guess, or whatever. I won't tell.’”
Tim took in the kid and was glad to see he wasn’t shivering anymore. Sure, the fact his streak of no real evidence or witnesses will stay strong is great but he wasn't all that worried. More just curious how a kid got around his system. And now he had a problem. He was glad. And being glad meant he actually felt something which never ended well these days.
“Tell you what kid.” He crouched to get the kid in eye level. “You tell me your name and I’ll take both of us for some late dinner. All on me, promise.”
The kid eyed him with that little glare again.
“You really won’t hurt me?”
“I hurt the bad guys kid.”
“Then why the Joker getup?”
At this Tim felt his face stretch into a grin. It scared the kid, but it wasn’t Tim’s fault. He really, truly couldn’t help it.
“I’m trying to piss Batman off, remember?”
And they left that in the air for no one to try and touch. It felt like a much heavier statement than the one before it.
But the kid read something on Tim’s face, took a heavy breath, the mist from it swirling and hiding the anxious look in his eyes.
“Jason Todd. My name’s Jason Todd.”