Chapter Text
Tim wakes to the soft click of the front door locking behind his parents as they leave. They're leaving for a dig in Egypt. They didn't wake him before they left. Even though they promised they would this time.
Tim is ten years old. He's alone.
Again.
He pulls the covers over his head and tries not to cry. For the past year, Tim's parents have drummed into him how grown-up he is. He's too old for tears.
Just last week, on the ride home from a Martha Wayne Foundation gala, Mom told him he was more mature than the other children.
Tim thinks she might have been talking about Jason Todd, the newest member of the Wayne family, who spent most of the evening hiding from everyone. He'd made rude faces at anyone who tried to butter him up. “He even swore at poor old Mrs Lyle,” Mom tutted.
Tim privately thinks Mrs Lyle probably deserved it. She's the grouchiest woman he's ever met and had loudly announced that she was going to introduce herself to “Brucie’s little street rat” before she'd intercepted Jason at the dessert table.
Or else she was talking about Dick Grayson, even though he isn't really a child anymore. He kicked off his shoes for an impromptu handstand to distract a lost little girl while Mr Wayne found her parents.
Tim had thought that was a kind thing to do. Exactly the sort of thing he would expect from Robin (well, Nightwing now).
Mom thought it was “an undignified spectacle. Honestly, I know he was raised in a circus, but he's lived with Bruce Wayne for years now. It's time he grew up.”
As his parents planned their latest dig, Dad had ruffled his hair over breakfast. “You won't need a nanny this time, at least,” he'd said. “You’re big enough to be the man of the house while we're away.”
Then he'd smiled at Tim, who'd nodded and agreed even as his stomach twisted at the thought.
The thing is, Tim is old enough now to know that most parents don't leave their ten-year-old children alone for weeks at a time. He's aware that almost all of his classmates actually see their parents more during the summer break.
He even thinks skipping your kid’s birthday three years in a row might not be normal.
He's just not old enough to do anything about it.
So he lets his tears fall.
One good cry later, and Tim is ready to start his day. He finds his slippers (one under the bed, one on his desk for some reason) and heads downstairs.
Even his slipper-clad feet sound like thunder in the empty house. So the first thing he does when he gets to the kitchen is switch on the radio.
Well, he tries. The radio is on the windowsill over the sink. Tim isn't tall enough to reach the switch. He hoists himself up on the counter next to the sink, stretches across…
Overbalances.
He topples. His hand plunges into the gross, cold water his dad left the dishes soaking in last night.
After he's dried his arm, Tim turns the TV on in the living room instead. He adjusts the volume until he can hear the Powerpuff Girls episode from the kitchen and gets back to breakfast.
He grabs his cereal before he climbs back onto the countertop to fetch himself a bowl from one of the cupboards. As he shuffles back down, he kicks the open cereal box, and Lucky Charms scatter across the floor.
…He'll sweep that up after breakfast.
There's just enough cereal left in the packet to fill his bowl. Mrs Mac is coming tomorrow afternoon with groceries. Hopefully, she'll bring more.
Tim grabs the milk from the fridge and carefully carries it to the counter. He has to use both hands. The milk is full and it's heavy.
It's too heavy for him to pour.
Tim drops the carton. It crashes into his bowl, sending milk and what was left of the cereal flying.
As Tim stares at the mess, all he can think is, “Well, there's no point crying over spilled milk.”
He starts laughing, only slightly hysterically. From the living room, the Narrator berates the Powerpuff Girls. “Always griping and moaning about something... sheesh, you give me a headache!”
By the time he's finished his sentence, Tim is sobbing into his hands for the second time this morning.
His second attempt at breakfast (after he's mopped up the milk and soggy cereal on the floor) goes much better. Tim makes himself toast, which is not what he wanted, but will stop his stomach grumbling.
The toaster is always too loud. At least with his parents gone, Mom isn't there to roll her eyes when he puts his hands over his ears. Dad isn't there to scoff and shake his head as Tim flinches at the pop.
Silver linings, he guesses.
Tim eats in the living room, careful not to get toast crumbs on the sofa. He spends the morning watching cartoons in his pajamas because there's nobody there to tell him he's being lazy or wasting time.
Being on his own feels like it should be freeing. He's living most kids’ dreams. Big empty house, no parents, making his own rules.
Mostly, it just feels lonely.
Tim decides to go into Gotham for lunch. He's not really feeling up to touching the stove after the disaster that was breakfast.
His first thought was to get something delivered. But when he dug through the kitchen junk drawer for menus, he realized that would mean calling someone. Tim hates speaking on the phone. He stutters and stumbles. Last time Dad made him call the restaurant himself, they hung up on him. They thought he was a prank call.
Easier to walk twenty minutes to the bus stop and ride into town.
Tim plugs his headphones into his Walkman and heads out the door. He has a Discman, but it skips on the bus, so he's started putting his favorite songs on cassettes. Right now, he's going through a skate-punk phase.
He's so caught up in his music that he doesn't notice that there are other people at the bus stop until they've already spotted him.
That's Dick Grayson waving and smiling at him, and Jason Todd sitting in the bus shelter, frowning at his feet with a full plastic bag swinging from one hand. Tim fumbles to pause his tape as he approaches.
“Timothy Drake, right?” Dick asks.
“Um, Tim, yeah.” Real cool, Tim.
Jason tries to hide his snort of laughter even as Dick smacks him on the arm.
“I don't know if you remember us,” Dick continues as Jason rubs his shoulder and goes back to frowning, “but I'm–”
“Dick Grayson,” Tim interrupts. He can't help himself. “You did a handstand at the gala last week.”
Dick grins.
“Don't encourage him.” Tim startles as Jason speaks for the first time since Tim arrived. “His ego’s already big enough to have its own gravitational pull.”
“Jason's just grumpy Mrs Lyle got between him and the dessert table,” Dick stage whispers. Tim giggles.
“There were tiny cupcakes, Dickie!” Jason is suddenly very animated. “They looked so good and then they were gone by the time the old hag finally fuuu– shoved off.”
Tim sits on the seat beside Jason. He can't believe he's sitting by Robin.
“And I'm not even mad because I didn't get cupcakes,” Jason adds. “I'm mad because she was mean and somehow I'm the one being punished for defending myself.”
Tim shuffles uncomfortably.
Dick sighs. “If you put your dollar in the swear jar, Alfred will drive you places again.”
“He wants me to put five dollars in,” Jason huffs.
Tim's eyes go wide. “What did you say to her?” He doesn't know any swears that bad.
“Well,” Jason begins, but Dick shoves a hand over his mouth.
“Nothing appropriate for young ears!” he cries. Then he yelps and wipes his hand on his jeans. “Did you just lick me?!”
“It was kind of funny when Mrs Lyle left,” Tim says quietly. Dick and Jason both turn to him. “She had her face all scrunched up like–” he squishes his face up in his best approximation of Mrs Lyle. “She looked like a pug.”
Jason laughs. Dick chuckles.
Tim wishes he could record this moment and play it over and over. The memory will fade eventually, but if he had it on VHS… He made Nightwing and Robin laugh!
Dick shrugs. “She is kind of a mean old witch.”
The bus pulls up, and all three of them get on. Jason makes Dick sit in the seat behind him and gestures to the seat next to him when Tim gets close. Tim tries his best not to freak out. Robin wants to sit next to Tim.
Dick leans over the seat and asks, “So, Tim, where are you headed?”
Oh. Here are the questions. Whenever grown-ups notice Tim on his own, he needs to be ready for the questions. Mom and Dad made it very clear they'd be very upset if they had to come home early because of a neighbor’s unwarranted concerns.
“Just to the library,” Tim says. He has a couple of CDs in his bag that he was planning to bring back after lunch, so it's not entirely a lie. He’s not even sure why the library seems like a better reason than lunch, but it doesn't seem like a good idea to even hint that he can't get food at home.
“Oh, hey! Us too!” says Jason. He nods to the bag at his feet. Tim can see now it's full of books. “We're going for milkshakes after. You should come!”
“Oh, uh…”
“Jason, Tim's parents will probably be expecting him home.” Thank you, Dick, for the convenient excuse.
“Yeah,” Tim says apologetically.
“Cool,” Jason shrugs. “Maybe next time, eh, Timbo?”
Tim hopes his face isn't as red as it feels. “Y-yeah. Th-that’d be, uh, yeah. That'd be great. Yeah. Thanks.”
It's the best bus journey Tim’s ever had. He even almost doesn't care about the noise as they get further into Gotham and more people get on.
Almost.
Dick and Jason spend much longer in the library than Tim, who switches his Green Day and Lit albums for Blink-182 and the Offspring within five minutes of arriving.
Jason passed his bag to Dick and immediately disappeared into the stacks. Dick has been chatting to the librarian at the desk, Barbara Gordon, the commissioner’s daughter, the whole time.
Tim says a brief goodbye and heads into the McDonald's on the corner before his growling stomach gives him away. He takes his food home on the bus rather than eating in the restaurant to make sure he doesn't end up on the same bus home as the Waynes. That would probably be suspicious after Tim said he was just going to the library.
He opens his Happy Meal at the kitchen table and smiles at the little Beanie Baby frog that came with his chicken nuggets.
This has been a great day.
It's three days before Tim sees the Waynes again. He moved his N64 downstairs the day before so he can use the bigger screen in the living room. Ocarina of Time looks so much better this way. He's been sitting on the couch for almost three hours when there's a knock at the door.
Tim pauses his game and goes to investigate. He nearly falls over when he looks through the peephole.
“Jason?” he asks as he opens the door.
“Hey, Timmy. We were going to go to the library and then get milkshakes again and wondered if you wanted to come with?”
Jason looks genuinely excited at the prospect of Tim joining them. Tim… doesn't really understand why, but he's not going to turn down the invite.
“Sure! Let me, uh, let me just write a… a note for Mrs Mac.” Tim grabs a notepad from the table by the door. Mrs Mac is supposed to be coming this afternoon. She never stays long, but she always chats with him for a few minutes.
Tim runs through to stick the note to the fridge, where she'll definitely see it, then grabs his bag and shoves his feet into his sneakers on his way back.
Jason's waiting patiently at the door when Tim comes back.
“C’mon!” he says. “Alfred's giving us a lift.”
“You put the five dollars in the jar?” Tim asks, curious.
Jason grins at him. “I caught Dick sneaking his girlfriend into his room. He gave me the money so I wouldn't tell.”
Tim tries to remember all the things his parents told him about being polite on the way to the library. But when he says, “Thank you for the lift, Mr Pennyworth,” Jason coughs and Dick smiles like he's said something funny.
“You're quite welcome, Master Timothy,” comes the reply from the driver's seat. “But please, call me Alfred. ‘Mr Pennyworth’ makes me feel old.” Then Mr Pen– Alfred winks at him in the rearview mirror.
Tim doesn't know what to say, but Jason and Dick laugh, so he figures it's alright if he does too.
Barbara greets them all at the desk as they enter.
“No way you're finished all those already, Jay,” she says as Jason approaches with an armful of books.
“Yes way,” Jason retorts. “I need to pick something longer this time.”
She smiles as she takes the books from him and glances at Tim. “Your CDs aren't due back for another week and a half, Tim.”
“I know, I just, uh…” Tim trails off. He's not really sure what to say.
“Music?” Jason asks. Tim nods. “Don't you take books out too?”
“Not usually,” Tim admits. He doesn't usually read for fun. He gets enough reading at school.
“Ok! New mission.” Jason wraps an arm around Tim and steers him to the children's section as Dick starts asking Barbara about how her dad's getting on.
“Forget longer books for me,” Jason says. “We are finding something you'll enjoy.”
Jason apparently takes his duty as book-recommender very seriously.
“Okay,” he says. “Let's start basic. What was the last book you enjoyed?”
Tim just blinks at him. “Books I had to read for school don't count, right?”
Jason sighs. “It's worse than I thought.”
He turns to a random shelf, picks a book, and places it in Tim's hands.
“Goosebumps!” Jason declares. “Every kid likes these.”
Tim looks down at the book in his hand. Night of the Living Dummy. He reads the blurb and quickly hands it back to Jason.
“I don't think I want anything scary,” he says. Not while he's on his own anyway. Sometimes his big empty house feels creepy enough without thinking about ventriloquist dummies coming to life.
“They're not really scary,” Jason tries, but Tim shakes his head. Jason is Robin. Of course he isn't scared.
“Hmm…” Jason paces in front of the shelves before picking a second book.
This one looks like something Tim could get into. Animorphs. Except…
“Jason, this says it's book four in the series.”
“Yeah, but they're out of the first three,” Jason says, as if starting partway through makes any sense at all.
Tim places the book back on the shelf.
“Ok… not scary… not a series…” Jason mutters to himself.
Jason paces longer this time. Tim sits on one of the beanbags nearby.
Jason's oddly quiet when he hands Tim his next choice. Matilda.
“I know it looks like it's for little kids, but I think you'll like this one,” he says. “Smart kid gets herself into all sorts of trouble and gets the better of all the rotten grown-ups around her.”
Tim turns the book over and reads the back. He's so busy trying to take it in that he almost misses Jason's next quiet comment.
“My mom used to read it with me before she got sick.”
“It looks good,” Tim finds himself saying.
He feels like he needs to try it. For Jason.
The rest of the afternoon seems to fly by. Dick buys them all milkshakes bigger than Tim's head at a diner near the library. He won't let Tim pay for his own and decides for Tim that he's getting the biggest size when Tim hesitates, thinking about what the polite thing to do would be.
Eventually though, Alfred drops him off back at Drake Manor. Tim turns his cartoons back on for background noise and opens his book.
“It’s a funny thing about parents,” the book begins. “Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think they are wonderful.”
Tim pauses. He wonders if his parents think he's wonderful. They've never said much to suggest it…
Before he can get too distracted, he starts again.
“Some parents go further,” continues the book. “They become so blinded by adoration they manage to convince themselves their child has qualities of genius.”
Well, maybe Tim's parents do think that. He did skip two grades. They're always bragging about it at galas.
It takes Tim several attempts to get through more than a paragraph, but by the time he gets to the description of Matilda (“Her mind was so nimble and she was so quick to learn that her ability should have been obvious even to the most half-witted of parents”) and her parents (“so wrapped up in their own silly little lives that they failed to notice anything unusual about their daughter”) he's hooked.
And if he's thinking of the way his parents treat him, and the way the Wormwoods treat Matilda? (“I doubt they would have noticed had she crawled into the house with a broken leg.”) It doesn't mean anything.
It's just a book.
When Matilda starts punishing her parents, Tim starts thinking.
His mom doesn't dye her hair, and his dad doesn't wear a hat, but the parrot-ghost… He grins, but shakes his head. It's funny in the book, but it would probably be cruel to stick an actual bird in a chimney.
When Matilda meets Miss Honey, Tim's heart aches. He wishes he had a Miss Honey.
When Miss Trunchbull punishes the children in ridiculously over-the-top ways, he giggles even as he hates her. Secretly, he thinks that being punished by eating a whole giant chocolate cake wouldn't be too bad.
When Matilda gets her powers, Tim marks the page with his little McDonald's frog. It's too big for a bookmark, but he doesn't want to pause to search for one. He pours himself a glass of water and stares at it for longer than he'll ever admit, willing it to tip, before he picks the book back up again.
Matilda tells Miss Honey about her powers. Miss Honey has nothing, but she and Matilda care about each other. Tim finds himself crying and doesn’t really understand why.
He cheers out loud when Miss Trunchbull faints and disappears from Miss Honey’s house.
He's not even disappointed that Matilda’s powers fade. Her parents leave, and she gets to stay with Miss Honey. That's the best ending. Anything else would have made it unreal.
Tim's stomach growls. He looks up from the finished book to find it's dark outside.
He makes himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner.
Then he climbs into bed and starts the book again.