Chapter Text
Tim was exhausted. It wasn’t the kind of exhaustion his parents had when they came home from a trip, ordering him to carry their bags in. No, this was the kind of exhaustion that didn’t quite pull at your bones but it weighed on your shoulders until they ached.
Tim did not feel this exhaustion because of his lack of sleep or the copious amount of coffee he had inhaled that morning. His shoulders sagged because of the kid currently hysterically sobbing next to him. It wasn’t anything Tim did, he didn’t think. All he did was complain about his absent parents leaving for another trip soon.
The kid, who Tim hadn’t even considered asking for his name, had cried out about how 'Tim should be grateful he has parents who are still together'. So, very obviously, this kid’s parents had just split up and he was very upset about Tim’s mulish attitude about his parents who were still happy and in love. Tim had to suppress a chuckle at the thought. He didn’t even remember when he had last heard the word “love” uttered in his household.
Tim awkwardly splayed his hand across the kid’s back, patting it gently. He had no idea what to do when someone was crying, especially when it was this eccentric. His parents always told him that there were times when crying was appropriate and times when it was not. For Tim, every single time he cried, it fell under the 'not appropriate' category.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Tim blurted, cringing at the sight of the kid’s red-rimmed eyes gleaming at him.
“It’s alright,” the kid began, deftly rubbing his eyes.
When the kid hunched over to take a deep breath, he sat up to look back at Tim. He looked fine. The kid must have some kind of talent because he looked like he hadn’t been crying at all.
“I didn’t mean to cry. My mom says it’s not good to cry in public because if the press get to it, they can do all kinds of things.”
Tim could vouch for that speech. He had gotten it more times than he could count. However, he latched onto one part in particular.
“Press?” Tim questioned, absently handing the boy a tissue.
The kid took it, nodding his head. “Yeah,” he confirmed, pausing at the utterly blank look on Tim’s face. “I’m George Buckerfield…”
Then it struck Tim like a slap to the face. Colour rose on his cheeks and he chided himself for his stupidity. He should have known that this was the kid of a business industry he couldn’t remember the name of. He did recognize the last name, though. They weren’t as successful as the Drake’s. Certainly not as successful as Wayne Enterprise, but they did have quite the reputation.
“Of course. I was just…confused about you being worried about the press in a school. I mean, why would they be in here?!” Tim blurted out, clutching the inside of his sleeve so hard that he was sure he almost ripped the fabric. He chuckled awkwardly just to add the effect and hide his poor attempt at lying.
“Oh, I guess…” George said, backing up.
George Buckerfield practically ran off and Tim was left to wallow in his own embarrassment. He swiped carelessly on his phone, even going as far as checking the weather. As usual, it said ' poor air quality', and Tim briefly wondered why they even bothered to put that down. He thought about checking his text messages, or maybe even pretending to read them, but the idea only made him upset. No one ever texted him. In fact, his last text was his parents sending him a brief sentence saying, “ Business is great. Won’t be coming back soon.”
That was all it said. One sentence. They came back a month later, which had been a couple of days ago now.
“Hey, are you okay?” a casual voice said from in front of him.
Tim looked up from his phone, a slight smile blooming across his face at the sight of Jason Todd. In other words, Robin was asking if he was alright. Tim had found out Batman’s identity as well as all of Robin's identities two years ago when he was nine. Of course, Jason had no clue he knew and Tim would like to keep it that way.
“I’m fine,” Tim reassured.
Jason snorted. “We gotta get you a new vocabulary, kid.”
Tim liked to think that they were friends. They were neighbours after all. According to the internet, only friends asked if you were okay so Tim figured that pretty much sold it. They didn’t hang out outside of school but they talked during school and that was enough for Tim.
“What happened to Buckerfield?” Jason asked, sitting down next to him.
Tim felt small beside him which could either be because of the two-year age difference or the fact Jason was sporting a bruise just under his eye that made him look tough.
Tim shrugged. Of course, Jason knew that kid’s name. Batman probably made him know everyone's name. Tim would have to do some work, memorizing a bunch of people’s names, if he wanted to impress Batman.
“His parents just got divorced,” Tim responded.
Jason furrowed his brows. “And he cried to you about it?”
Tim shrugged again. “I complained about my parents leaving on another business trip soon and I guess it offended him.”
Jason instantly switched interests, forgetting Buckerfield completely. “Your parents are leaving again?”
“It’s not like it’s unexpected.” Tim diverted his eyes from the other.
“Who’s looking after you while they're gone?”
Tim slightly tilted away, bringing up walls. “Mrs. Mac is there on some days and I can take care of myself. I’m not a baby.”
Truthfully, Mrs. Mac only came to the house sometimes and it was only often when his parents were home. All she had to do was cook and clean so without his parents, Tim didn’t make much of a mess and didn’t require a whole meal. It made perfect sense. There was no point in needing Mrs. Mac because Tim was perfectly capable of looking after himself.
“You’re eleven,” Jason drawled.
“Being left home alone is every kid’s dream,” Tim tried to convince. It didn’t quite have the full effect with the way his voice quieted almost to a sad whisper at the end.
Jason only frowned. “Do you want to–” He was cut off by the bell, meaning lunch was over and Tim could make a strategic escape to Math class.
After Tim spent thirty minutes waiting outside of the school, he ended up giving in and taking the next bus. His parents were supposed to pick him up from school because they were finally home and in a good mood this morning so Tim tried his luck by asking if they could pick him up from school. They absently agreed which Tim could now recognize as his first mistake.
When he finally arrived home, his parents didn’t mention that he was an hour late from when he was supposed to come home from school. Tim almost allowed himself to get angry about it until his dad spoke.
“How was school, sport?” And just like that, any negative feelings dissipated and Tim leaped at the opportunity to answer.
“Good,” he began, suddenly panicking at the lack of anything to add. In his panic, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “George Buckerfield’s parents are getting divorced!”
His mom, Janet, looked up at the information. “How do you know?”
“He cried about it at school today.”
Jack smirked; he smirked, and Tim shrunk at the expression. It was not a good one. This was the 'I just got a great idea for the business' look.
“His parents must be in hysterics over money! Jack, who do you think would be willing to make a deal?” his mom asked.
His dad responded quickly. “The father. He always was a desperate bastard.”
Tim felt horror sink into his gut. What did he just do? His parents were about to trick George Buckerfield’s parents into a business deal and exploit them for money. Tim was a horrible person, not only for blurting out the information but also for the way he lit up when his dad ruffled his hair. Despite his loathed feelings, he yearned for the contact, chasing the hand. It disappeared as quickly as it came.
Tim accepted his parents' prompt retreat and glowered at the amount of food in the pantry. There were two boxes of stale cereal and a box of granola bars. The counter had two takeout boxes, both empty. His parents must have ordered food before he came back from school. Tim grabbed two granola bars and moseyed up to his room.
Just as he finished his first granola bar and craved a cup of coffee, his eyes drifted to his camera. His parents would be busy all night and they would have no idea Tim was gone if he went out to take pictures. It would also be a great opportunity to take his mind off of how terrible he was. Nothing like Batman beating people to a pulp to cheer you up.
Tim had started taking pictures when he got his camera at nine, coincidentally, also the time he figured out Robin’s identity. His hobby was still extremely active and Tim took the past two years perfecting his method. No one had ever noticed, not even Batman. Tim would argue that it was one of his biggest accomplishments.
With the decision in place, Tim slung the camera over his shoulder and quietly inched open his window. He had to slide down to the edge of the roof before leaping onto a tree and swinging down to the ground. It was meticulous, but it worked and that was all Tim needed.
Tim usually scoured around Gotham looking above him at all times. Sometimes, if he was feeling brave, he would elect to wander around rooftops, however, there were fewer hiding spots when he did that. When he was on the streets, there were a lot of dark corners to hide in.
Sure enough, just as he suspected, he spotted the blinding colours of Robin’s suit perched on a rooftop with Batman looming over. Robin looked like he could take a step back and be swallowed into the night of Batman’s cape. They were talking to each other but Tim was too far away to hear what it was about. He snapped a picture either way, fiddling with the settings. It wasn’t the best angle but Tim would take what he could get.
For a futile moment, his heart rate spiked at the sight of Batman peering right at him but the look was diverted just as quickly as it came. After all, Tim was well hidden in the darkness so it was likely Batman had just been analyzing his surroundings.
Batman said something clipped to Robin, who tensed at the information but made no move to do anything else. They grappled off quickly and Tim gave up on trying to get another photo of them. He was exhausted and this time it was the exhaustion that tugged at your bones. He pocketed his camera and worked on getting back home.
Tim made it home without a hitch, climbing back up the tree and slipping into his room. His stomach grumbled angrily so Tim grabbed the second granola bar and scarfed it down. He was about to change and tuck into bed when he heard his dad’s voice bellow from down the stairs. Tim shot up like a rocket, digging his nails into his palm so hard that crescents were left behind. He thumped down the stairs and prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that his parents didn’t find out that he had snuck out.
Of course, perhaps it was his wishful thinking or just plain stupidity, his parents hadn’t noticed he was gone. They never noticed him. Tim was a ghostly child and it wasn’t because he was so pale; it was because no one ever saw him.
“We just made the deal of a lifetime, Timothy! What do you say we go out for shrimp tomorrow night to celebrate?” his mom cheered.
What Tim wanted to respond with was, ‘I’m allergic to shrimp, Mom. I have been for my whole life,’ but instead, he plastered on his very best gala smile.
“That would be awesome,” Tim said.
His parents whisked him off to bed and Tim wordlessly obliged.
He wished he had stayed out to take more pictures.