Chapter Text
March 2022, Age 15 16
The lady was babbling, a rushing stream of every thought, almost too fast for Tim to hear her. She rambled on about her husband, how he left hair in the bathroom sink and it was really, seriously going to be the last straw before she slept with her coworker.
The room was small, probably had been someone’s office two years ago. The furniture was all nice, though worn, with a layer of dust. Tim sneezed.
Her coworker who, of course, was another woman, and this lady had never in her whole life come out to anyone except her best friend in sophomore year of high school and it had been thirty years since then—no, thirty-three years.
Tim listened, because there was no immediate danger. Somewhere outside the abandoned house Batman was waiting for the police to arrive with a handcuffed Riddler, and somewhere else Nightwing and Batwoman were securing the other hostages.
This lady had been alone though, strangely enough across the house from Riddler. No visible injuries, just the—
“And I loved her. She was perfect for me but she had to go to Massachusetts to see her grandma and we lost contact, I think she did it on purpose. Harry won’t understand, and he farts when he sleeps, I just can’t take it anymore Robin. Sometimes I watch lesbian porn and—”
Just the unknown substance, evidenced by the syringe on the coffee table, and the room of hostages Batwoman was dealing with that were talking in a similar manner.
“Hey, so this is definitely the house from the family annihilator last year.” Nightwing spoke over the comms.
“You had that case closed.” Batman grit out.
“I didn’t say I think it was related.”
“Hn.”
“Just saying that the city didn’t bother to—”
The lady continued spilling her heart out to Tim. “I know it’s wrong, Father would disown me if he knew. But Carol is so strong and driven.”
“Wait, so being gay is wrong but cheating isn’t?” Tim asked.
“Harry hasn’t made love to me in months! He didn’t even know about the bachelorette party and I only married him because he was cute but he’s going bald now! I can’t be expected to love him. I don’t love him.” She gasped. “I don’t love him. Carol wouldn’t make me this sad. She invited me to get a drink after work but I was too scared, she still never insulted my voice or my baking or anything!”
“Right.”
“I just need to pray over this. Will you pray with me Robin? Please. Oh—who am I kidding? I haven’t been to church in years. Harry goes, I just said I wasn’t feeling well till he stopped asking. But how can you expect me to sit there when the kids are asking me—”
“Wait, you have kids?”
“Emma never grew into her nose, she got it from Harry. And Corbin—”
“Robin, report.”
“Apparent truth serum, no injuries, no signs of a struggle.” Tim said. He had untied the woman the second he got there, but she hadn’t moved from the office chair. Head in her hands, she kept confessing.
“Hn.”
“—never cleans his room, sometimes I wish I had just aborted him. I’m bad, I’m going to Hell. There is something inside of me and it’s so wrong.” She brought herself to tears. “But I can’t let it go.”
“GCPD is here.”
“Ma’am, forgive me—”
“I won’t, I never can.”
“That’s okay. We can go now though. The ambulance will be here soon, they’ll take you to Gotham Memorial Hospital.”
“Harry will yell at me for the bill. We have the money but he doesn’t care. He’s too frugal. That’s why Emma’s depressed, why Corbin’s a hoarder.”
“Ma’am—”
“I was never meant to be this, you have to understand. I was going to be someone. I really was. If not for Harry moving us to this God-forsaken city.”
“You really think that?” Tim hauled her to her feet.
“No.” She sobbed.
“It’s never too late.”
“It is. For me.”
“Do you really think that?”
“…No.”
Nightwing stood at the bottom of the stairs, guiding people out to the ambulance.
“Status?”
Tim shrugged, passing the woman off to a young police officer. “Think I could be a priest.”
“Hah.”
“Come to the Batmobile, we’re done here.” Batman said over the comms. Tim and Nightwing went out together, Batwoman was already taking off on her motorcycle. Paramedics and cops were everywhere, a familiar scene for every situation like this.
No one held the same panic like they did in other cities, it was too common for Gotham. Most of the first responders had probably dealt with something like this within the past week, if not earlier that night. There was probably another house full of hostages across the city that they wouldn’t know about until it was too late.
“Injuries?” Batman asked, checking over Tim and Nightwing already.
“None.”
“None.”
He ushered them into the warm car. Batman had grown softer in the past few years. He let Nightwing put on music and shot a look back at Tim, wouldn't start the Batmobile until Tim grabbed a water bottle.
At the Batcave they debriefed then showered, Dick annoyed Tim into having Alfred’s new tea blend before leaving for the night.
“How’s school going, Jax?” Dick asked.
And that was the thing.
Tim smiled big. “Good! I finally brought up my grade in English, we’re just starting to read The Great Gatsby.”
“Aye, I knew you could do it.”
“How’s Blud?”
Dick sighed, he never liked when Tim asked questions, but would always humor him. “Same old, good. But I like seeing you and B, Blud gets lonely.”
Dick had a tell. In the beginning Tim couldn’t put his finger on it, in the beginning he also had blind trust with his idol, the last bit of hope that if anyone else, Dick Grayson wouldn’t be a liar.
But everyone lies. Dick had a preference for lying by omitting the truth, twisting his words so no one could really call him out, unless of course, he was fighting with Bruce.
“And Bludhaven doesn’t have Alfred’s tea.” Tim teased. “I can’t imagine trying to find authentic British tea in Blud.”
“Jaxon, focus on writing your report.” Bruce passed by the two.
“Relax Bruce—”
“You too, Dick. We don’t know—”
“Not this lecture again, please God, not this lecture again.” Dick covered his eyes, slumping in his chair.
—
The lab results came in the next night, a sample taken from every hostage. Tim went over the report from the comfort of his bedroom, away from prying eyes, in an apartment Bruce didn’t know he lived in.
Some of Ivy’s spores were found, along with a bunch of chemicals Tim couldn’t bother to pronounce.
It wasn’t going to be an issue. Gotham cycled through issues like nothing, truth serum yesterday would be a weapons deal tomorrow and Tim wouldn’t have to worry at all.
Tim curled up with a bag of chips and some headphones to watch Riddler’s interrogation. The cameras in Arkham’s interview rooms were always the worst, but the audio was manageable.
“Mr. Nygma, you know—”
Tim fastforwarded, there was no point in watching a power hungry cop try to intimidate.
“—nothing to do with it! I was just premiering my new crossword!”
“Explain how the civilians got injected.”
“I’m telling you, it was my business partner. They offered to help me get an honest review.”
Tim fastforwarded.
“—moniker?”
“No! No! No moniker! This isn’t a riddle.”
“Everything's a riddle with you!” The cop’s blurry figure was fed up only twenty minutes in, slamming their files down and storming out of the room.
Riddler waved to the camera. “I’ve got a great new crossword.”
Tim moved onto witness reports. Most of them had barely-legible, but honest, writing. Likely the hostages were told to give a statement before being treated. It was unusable, personal confessions. The rest were from the few hostages that weren’t dosed at all, who only knew about Riddler’s crossword and the threat that if they weren’t honest in their feedback, they’d be sent to a different room.
It wasn’t going to be an issue. Hopefully there would be a horrible tragedy tomorrow that would get this case put on the back burner. No, he didn’t hope there would be a horrible tragedy. It was just a…bad subject.
Now, let it be known that Timothy Jackson Drake had moved to France after his parents’ tragedy. The estranged Drake brother, Edward, had taken him in quickly, and currently supervises Drake Industries from across the Atlantic for until Timothy turns eighteen, upon which Timothy will return to Gotham to honor his parents legacy.
The truth was carefully maintained. Helped by Janet’s refusal to ever let the media get a photo of Timothy.
A truth serum in Gotham, involved in a case with a rogue that knew nothing of the sort, was not good news. It was the kind of mystery Bruce would love to obsess over, the kind of thing where all loose ends needed tying.
Tim did a little more digging, going through the crime scene photos from Kate and the police, to find Riddler’s new crossword. It was relatively easy, probably since it was for the public rather than Bruce, and not themed around the truth at all.
So the “business partner” was only involved in adding stakes, and possibly convincing Riddler that he needed to get critique on his riddles. Hopefully, this would be the only incident involving the truth-seeking business partner. But knowing Gotham, it wouldn’t be. And knowing Bruce, they would have to look into it either way.