Chapter 1: From the Start
Notes:
Hii sorry for any grammar mistakes or misspellings!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Tim Drake was 11 years old when he saw his parents on the news.
Tim Drake was 11 when he was told that his mother had died from the Obeah Men and his father was in a coma and would likely never wake up.
Tim Drake was 11 when Bruce Wayne had offered to foster him.
He was currently standing outside of Wayne Manor, duffel bag swung around his shoulders. He didn’t know why Bruce Wayne would offer to foster him. He’d never even interacted with the man before- and sure they sorta lived in the same area, but they weren’t neighbors or anything. He couldn’t think of a reason the man would want to foster him unless he knew- he cut that thought off right there. There was no way he knew that Tim knew. He hadn’t even told anyone he knew! He nervously took a step closer to the door and rung the doorbell. He waited a few seconds, staring at the ground until he heard the telltale sign of the door being opened. Though, instead of seeing a butler opening the door like Tim had expected, Bruce Wayne had.
Batman.
Now, Tim wasn’t one to brag, but he’s known the dynamic duos identities since he was 9 years old! Not that he ever told anyone! Never! Though he wouldn’t be surprised if anyone else knew , considering how easy it was to figure out. There was only one person that could do a quadruple somersault in all of Gotham- Dick Grayson. So when he saw Robin do the same one on the news, it was easy to put it all together. And when the new Robin -Jason Todd- came onto the scene right after getting adopted by Bruce Wayne it only had solidified his theory.
“I- do you need help with your bags?” Mr.Wayne said, pulling Tim from his thoughts. Mr.Wayne was dressed in a black turtle neck (despite the hot summer heat) with a pair of black slacks. His eyes look sad and sleepless. And his mouth looked like it was trying to remember how to form a smile and failing. He looked down at his bag. He was used to having to constantly to move thanks to spending most of his life in boarding schools so packing up his room at the manor had been easy. “No it’s fine, I didn’t bring much.” Which was true, the only things that he didn’t bring that wasn’t a necessity was his camera, his “nightlife” photos, his video games- which were admittedly a last minute decision and his phone. Though he only brought the photos just in case someone were to break into his house. Not that he knew what someone might do with them, but he still couldn’t take the chance. Mr.Wayne nodded, opening the door further so that Tim could shuffle in. “Well, if you need anything else that you didn’t bring I’ll have it ordered.” He said closing the door behind him.
The entrance area was ginormous. In front of him were a twin set of stairs that lead up to the second floor. On the ceiling hung a high chandelier. Stepping into the entrance he felt a twinge of nostalgia, he vaguely remembered his parents taking him to galas when he was younger- not so much nowadays. He thinks that they maybe had brought him to a Wayne gala when he was about 6? 7? Most Galas that were hosted were at times where he was at a boarding school or his parents weren’t in Gotham on the rare occasion one was being held whilst he was at home.
Mr.Wayne started walking ahead of Tim- towards the stairs. The man was quiet the whole way up. He didn’t even offer a glance at him. Acting like Tim wasn’t there to begin with. Once they were on the second floor they walked into a hallway with enough bedrooms to put a hotel to shame. They stopped at the first one to the left, “This’ll be your room,” Mr.Wayne said before looking down at Tim with a small strained smile. “Why don’t you get yourself settled? I’ll probably be in my study- it’s just down the hall to the right, first room to the left. After you’re done Alfred can finish up giving you the tour, he’s just out doing some errands right now.” Though his tone was gentle, the man spoke like talking to Tim, looking at Tim, physically hurt him. Maybe it was because he was hosting a child in the manor so soon after losing his own? Or maybe it was Tim’s fault, his own parents barely contacted him and he rarely saw them. Maybe there was something about him that made adults dislike him. He tried fixing himself, he really did. He tried to be more quiet, take up less space, do well in school, and keep to himself. But it never worked, his parents never contacted when he was in boarding school (unless it was about his grades. It was always about how he reflected on them- never about him, never.) And only bothered to spend time with him when they all were coincidentally home on the same days. They never sought him out to hang out with him, to get to know him. And after a while he had just rationalized that it was his fault. That he was too loud, took up too much space, and just too much and that’s why his parents never wanted to be with him. He was once again pulled from his thoughts by Mr.Wayne who was now (quite awkwardly) patting Tim on the back, right before he left for his study.
He entered the room, taking it in slowly. The bedroom was big- well big compared to what he had at the boarding schools where 3-5 children were shoved into one room at a time. He placed his bag on the red covers before unzipping it. He put his clothes to the side grabbing out the tiny shoebox before swiftly shoving it under the bed. He’d need a better hiding place for it later- he was living with The Batman for gods sake. If he wasn’t careful enough he would be able to find out that Tim was following him during patrol, which he would then find out that he knew their identities, and then he would mind wipe him, and then- he forced his thoughts to stop right then and there. He could (and would) figure out the photo situation later.
He gathered his clothing and put them into his drawer. Sorting them by casual, pants, shorts, formal- you get the idea. He spent the next 45 minutes unpacking what little was in his bag, mostly deciding where he should put things. When he was done he lied atop his bed, arms and legs spread out like a starfish.
Now that he had nothing to do, nothing that was pushing him from task to task, the realization of what happened this week was starting to seek in. His mother was dead. He- he never even got the chance to know her. He could vaguely feel his eyes begin to water, as plump tears rolled down his cheeks. He never knew her- not that well at least. He could tell you her favorite necklace to where at galas, that she actually wore glasses on some days instead of contacts. But her favorite song? Color? What she did outside of work? And her voice. He couldn’t even remember the sound of her voice. The only time that he ever really heard her was when she was scolding him for his grades slipping. He didn’t really have any memories of her being gentle or soft with him. Maybe she was soft with him when he was smaller, younger, maybe she stopped was because she got sick of him after he grew up (too much and too loud). They sent him away ever since he was able to attend the nearest boarding school. So really the only time he ever got to see them was during summer break when it was guaranteed that they would be in the manor together. And he still loved her. She was his mother, he loved her, no doubt about it. He loved her even if she didn’t love him as much as he did. Did she think about him? He wondered, In her last moments? At all during their trips? His breath began to hitch as his brain kept going on and on. Wondering why they even pushed him away to begin with. Would his dad send him to another boarding school If he ever woke up from his coma? Would his dad ever wake up? Would he just go back to ignoring him if he did? Would he even try to change?
The thoughts continued to eat him alive. All of- all of this happing right now was way too much for him. He was- He was just so tired right now. He wanted to go to sleep and wake up in his bedroom and see his parents when they returned from Haiti. Maybe they could talk a bit a bit about what they discovered there. Maybe they could all sit in the living room and just exist together, as a family. But he knew that wouldn’t happen, his life was just so insane right now. He just wanted a sense of normalcy, he wanted his mom and dad and didn’t want to live in Mr. Wayne’s house. He’d stay in boarding school for the rest of his life if it meant he still had parents to come home to. His tears and sobs were starting to dissipate, not because he was calming down , but because there were simply no tears left to cry. Maybe, just for a bit he could go to sleep and pretend that when he woke up he’d be in Drake manor and his mom and dad would be home. His Dad would read the newspaper in the living room, while his mom would be absentmindedly reading a book she got from the last place they were at. And Tim would be there watching the television , clicking through the different channels. …That’d be a nice dream to have…
Tim awoke to a gentle hand on his shoulders, shaking him awake. Tim grumbled and (half-heartedly) tried to push the hand away, mumbling into the pillow as he did so.
“I’m afraid it’s time to wake up master Timothy.” A gentle, old voice said. “It’s almost time for dinner, chicken pot pie.” The voice was muffled like he was hearing it from underwater (more like under a pillow). “Really?” He asked, lifting his head up from underneath the pillow (how had that happened?). He then moved to face the stranger in his room. He was dressed in formal attire and had a sweet grandfather-ish look to him. Mr. Wayne had said earlier that his butler (the only one he had to Tim’s knowledge), Alfred was running errands, maybe he had gotten back and started cooking dinner? If so, then Tim must’ve slept for a really long time, oops.
“Yes, really, Master Timothy. Though I do not know what time you decided to take your nap, I have been at the manor for about 3 hours.” Oh wow, that’d mean it was about what? 6 o’clock? At the earliest at least.
“Oh, I’m sorry Mr.Alfred” Tim apologized. He didn’t think Mr.Alfred was annoyed or mad with him, or at least didn’t seem to be. But it was better to be safe than sorry.
That earned a small sad smile from the older man. “There’s nothing to apologize for lad. And please do drop the Mister title, I am simply the butler.”
“I- okay,” Tim relented. Mr.Alfred was so much more than that, if his suspicions were correct (which they usually were to give him some credit). While on patrol both Batman and Robin had both mentioned someone going by the code name "Agent A” numerous times. They both had talked about him like they lived with the Agent. How when they got back to the batcave Agent A would stitch them up or cook them their favorite dinner as a reward. And now after meeting Mr.Alfred, a man that quite possibly stays full time in the manor, and has a name that starts with the letter “A”, he was starting suspect Mr.Alfred to be that Agent the Bats worked with. And anyone that worked with the Bats was much more than “simply the butler”.
“Now, I think it’d do you some good for you to and wash up. I’ll come back up to get you, when dinner is ready” He said as he stood up from the chair next to Tim’s bed. He then patted Tim’s shoulders as he turned around to leave the room.
Once Tim could hear Mr.Alfred’s footsteps, he kicked the blankets off of him and went over to the dressers. What were dinners usually like here? During the summer when he was at the manor he’d eat late and alone. Expect when his parents were home for like two weeks out of the entire summer. But even then they’d mostly go out to fancy restaurants to eat. So that meant nice polos with fancy slacks. At the boarding schools he just wore a t-shirt and pants to go eat in the cafeteria. He never really at a meal at home. Maybe a few times, but not enough to know what was normal to wear to things like this. Maybe he’d go for something in between? He grabbed out a red and white striped polo with a pair of brown shorts, setting it on the bed before he went over to the bathroom to wash up.
He got out of the shower 15 minutes later, his hair smelling like coconut and vanilla. He picked up the tv controller on the night stand as he slid onto the bed. He started to flick through the Chanel’s absentmindedly trying to settle on something to watch. He eventually settled on a comedy show. Though he wasn’t really paying and attention to it, just waiting in anticipation for Mr.Alfred to come get him for dinner.
Eventually Mr.Alfred did come in the middle of the 2nd episode Tim was watching. He followed him silently down the halls, memorizing the path to the dining hall as he did so. When they arrived the table was vacant, despite being set for two. Mr.Alfred directed him to sit down on the plate closest to the door.
“Are you going to sit down and eat Alfred?”
“No, dear boy. I already ate earlier, though it does seem Master Bruce still hasn’t come down“ Alfred said with a huff of annoyance at the end. “Oh well, you eat up while I go grab him”
“Won’t it be rude to eat without him?”
“Well, I do believe it’s quite rude to stand up the guest that you invited to your house. But if he does take any issue with it please do tell me Master Timothy.”
“Just Tim, please” Tim whispered as Mr.Alfred was just about to leave. But despite his hushed tone the butler heard. He turned around to face the boy with a gentle, almost amused smile. “Why of course, Master Tim.”
Once Mis- Alfred left Tim turned his head to attention to his food. He lifted his fork tentatively scooping a portion of the food onto it. He lifted the fork to hover in front of his mouth before closing his eyes and taking a bite.
…
Oh. My. God.
That… was probably the best chicken pot pie he had ever had in his life. Heck, it was probably one of the best things he’s eaten in his eleven years of life. He took another scoop, now with renewed vigor.
Halfway through another forkful of chicken pot pie he felt something wet press against his leg. He turned down to his left to see a big black haired Chow Chow looking up expectingly at him. He swallowed down the last bit of food in his mouth before greeting the dog.
“Hello?” Tim said slowly inching his left hand closer to the Chow. The dog just looked confused and pressed his nose against his hand before sniffing it. After a few second the dog scooted an inch away before attacking his hands with slobbery doggy kisses.
“Hey!” Tim said with a laugh before petting the Chow Chow. This seemed to only encourage it as it stood up (leaning on Tim’s chair) and began to attack Tim once again with his tongue aiming for his face. Tim retaliated by halfheartedly trying to push the big dog away. Though the dog didn’t give way and only seemed to try harder. Their playing was only interrupted when a voice echoed through the dining room.
“I see you’re getting acquainted with Ace” Mr.Wayne said
“I-uh, yeah. He just came up to me, I didn’t feed him anything of my food though!” Tim’s stammered out. He could vaguely feel his ears and cheeks turning red.
“Yeah he does that sometimes,” Bruce said before turning his attention to Ace. “Kennel.” The dog looked up at Tim one more time, tilting his head a bit, before scampering out of the dining room.
Mr.Wayne came to sit down across from Tim. He was dressed in what he was wearing earlier, the only change being he was now wearing pink slippers along with a dark pink robe with a floral print .
“Are you adjusting well Tim?” Bruce asked as he scooped a bit of his own food.
“Uh, Yeah, Mr.Wayne. Thank you for agreeing to, um foster me by the way, you didn’t have to but you still did, so thanks.” Tim rushed out with a small smile.
Mr.Wayne seemed to tense- not obviously, but he stilled, just for a second. “I- Of course Tim. There is a… matter I wanted to discuss with you though”
Oh no. He found the photos- he knew he followed him around. He knew that Tim knew about his “night time” activities. Oh, he was so screwed. He was going to die tonight and join his mom in-
“… I’ve enrolled you into a public school, Gotham Hights. Now it’s to my knowledge that you’ve never been in a public school before, so I get this might be a jarring change to you. That’s what I mainly wanted to tell you, but I also want you to know that you can to come to me if anything’s happening at school, or if you don’t feel comfortable okay?
“I- yeah. Okay. I will, don’t worry Mr.Wayne” Tim stammered out before turning his attention back to the remainder of his food, his heart beating a mile a minute.
“Bruce,” The man said after a minute, causing Tim’s head to snap up. “You can call me Bruce, there’s no such need’s for formalities. Especially since you’ll be living with me.”
Tim nodded wordlessly, the reality slowly sinking in once again now that Mr.Wayne- Batman, had acknowledged it. He wasn’t going to be returning to his parents any time soon. And that now, Tim’s greatest secret was on the line.
Notes:
Thx for reading!!
Got a lot of my stuff for the drakes relationship off of The Cry of The Huntress (Robin Vol. ||) I personally like the way they paint Tim and Jacks complicated relation ship
Anyways if u want 2 comment any ideas for future chapters and I might write it!!
Chapter 2: Update!!
Notes:
Just an update on why it'd taken me over a month (sorry 😓)
Chapter Text
Hiiii just posting this to say: THIS ISNT ABANDONED!!! I've been rally busy w/ school I'm going to try to lock in and update it sometime this month. Im currently half way thru writing the second chapter rn!
Thank you!!
k4rk4l1c1ous on Chapter 1 Mon 18 Aug 2025 02:43PM UTC
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