Chapter Text
Bruce takes him down to the cave and shows him the Batcomputer and pulls up a map program.
Tim, who is perched cross legged on top of the desk beside him, makes grabby hands for the mouse and the keyboard. Wordlessly, Bruce slides them over into Tim's grasp.
"Can you show me where your parents dropped you off on the 19th?" Bruce asks, leaning back in his chair with his chin resting on his fingertips.
Privately, Tim thinks he looks more like Batman at the moment than Bruce, even though he's dressed like the latter.
Tim still has Bruce's shirt, but he's wearing it now. It comes down to his knees. He doesn't really think he's going to give it back. It still smells like Bruce and it's really soft.
He figures out the controls of the computer pretty fast and soon has the map zoomed in and a location circled behind the old Monarch theatre. The location makes Bruce frown, but otherwise he doesn't say anything.
Tim takes it a step further and circles several other places on the map before turning to Bruce.
"This is where Toad used to stay," he signs, pointing to the place he has pulled up.
It's one of Catwoman's apartment buildings, and it's only about five miles north of where he initially was dropped off.
Bruce leans in closer to the screen, his face wrinkling in thought. He points to a spot a little farther off to the west.
"This is the Cases’ house," Bruce says, sounding gravelly and dour.
Tim can identify with the mood.
He pulls up another location. It's a well-known spot for finding and hiring prostitutes.
"This is where Fox used to work."
It's near where Toad lived. He really needs Bruce to understand without him spelling it out. Just thinking about Toad makes his stomach hurt. He wonders if kids can get heartburn, because he feels like he could be diagnosed with heartburn.
"She already knew Toad before they lived with the Cases," Tim signs carefully, not looking directly at Bruce, but instead watching him out of the corner of his eye.
He clocks it when Bruce freezes and goes still.
"Tim?" Bruce's question is so quiet.
He drives the palm of his hand into his eyes, almost hard enough to hurt. He blinks away stars and looks at Bruce carefully. He's tired of crying. He picks up his tablet and doesn't look at Bruce as he types.
"Buster would take Toad off upstairs when we were all in the basement. He'd bring him back and Toad would cry when Buster was gone," his tablet says.
Bruce looks stricken and frozen, kind of like Tim's insides feel.
"Once, Fox told him--Buster--that he ought to take her instead and leave Toad alone," his tablet says.
He can hear Bruce swallow audibly in the silence.
"What happened then, sweetheart?" Bruce asks, sounding wrecked.
Tim shakes his head and sniffles. He doesn't want to get Bruce's soft shirt dirty. Something must show on his face, because Bruce preempts the problem by handing him a kleenex.
He takes it and blows his nose. Bruce holds up a tiny wastebasket, and he drops it in, wondering if it has a Bat-based name too.
"Buster said, 'Why? It's not like he's not used to it,'" Tim's tablet says after a bit.
Bruce looks angry. It makes Tim freeze in place until Bruce gets his facial expressions back under control.
"Then he said, 'Besides, you're not my type.'"
Tears are leaking insistently from Tim's eyes, and he swipes at them angrily.
"Grown men aren't supposed to have a type that involves kids," Bruce growls out.
Tim nods, swallowing around the tears that are filling his throat.
"That's why Toad almost died. He told Buster that he was gonna bite it off next time and Buster got really angry," Tim's tablet says.
--
Bruce is nearly apoplectic with rage but fighting very hard to keep it from showing on his face. Tim is very sensitive to moods of any kind, but especially his own. He freezes when Bruce briefly loses control of his face and only relaxes when he's able to get control again.
He has something new to add to Buster's profile and he'll need to tell Gordon as well. And Barbara. He fights the urge to put his face in his hands.
"Toad wasn't the same after that," Tim's tablet says.
Tim scoots closer to him, close enough that his legs dangle near Bruce's lap. He puts the tablet down and scoots a little closer, actually resting his socked feet on Bruce's thigh, looking shyly at him through his bangs like Bruce is going to shove him away.
Bruce would sooner shoot a grapple through his own foot than shove Tim away.
He wonders if it would help if he said it out loud.
"He was really smart about street stuff," Tim signs.
"Toad?" Bruce asks.
Tim nods.
"I got caught by CPP after I got attacked by an old man in an alleyway and went to the hospital like an idiot."
Bruce freezes at that but manages to make his mouth work enough to ask.
"When was that?"
"August. Early August. It was really hot. I got treated for heat exhaustion too."
"Which hospital?"
Tim grimaces.
"W-M," he fingerspells before picking up his tablet. "They take all the indigent cases."
His gut burns at the injustices that have been piled on Tim by his parents. The list just keeps growing.
"Do you know what Toad's real name was?" Bruce asks.
'Toad' had been his only designation on the CPP website. Gordon hadn't even been able to find his real name, despite having access to legal routes of inquiry.
"Something dumb," Tim's tablet says. "Real old fashioned. He hated it. Said he preferred to be 'Toad.'"
Tim shakes his head.
"Fox would know. She was good at that sort of thing."
"Where do you think she is?" Bruce asks, before immediately regretting the question.
What if she’s dead? is his worrisome thought.
Tim shakes his head again, but this time in thought. His eyes are distant.
"If she's alive, she's probably back on her corner doing the same thing she's always done," his tablet says.
He wishes that Tim didn't know anything about any of it.
"Both of them were really smart. Not book smart, though they were both good at math, but definitely smarter than me," Tim's tablet says.
"You're smart too," Bruce argues.
"Not like them. Toad always knew the best places to find food. He knew where you could hide without getting caught. He used to tell me about what to do back when he would talk to me in the basement. He didn't even know if I was capable of understanding. But he watched out for me. Told me not to worry about Buster because he'd protect me. He was always planning."
Tim wipes at his tears again. His fingers are trembling.
"After he almost died, he wasn't right in the head anymore, but I still loved him." Tim stops typing to wipe at his eyes again, the collar of Bruce's shirt sliding down his shoulder. "He used to get these terrible migraines. And he couldn't sleep anymore.”
Tim stops and looks into the distance over Bruce’s shoulder for a moment before slowly picking up the tablet again.
“I think that's why he drank," Tim's tablet finally says, speaking evenly and mechanically in direct contrast to the emotional topic at hand.
The dichotomy burns in Bruce's gut.
He reaches for Tim's hands and Tim lets him. Tim's hands are cold and he squeezes them. His hands are easily twice the size of Tim's.
Tim's just a little boy.
He's too young to be telling Bruce this story. He's too young to know any of these things.
--
Batman goes to the corner that Tim had told him about, already knowing what he'll find. He knows there are underage kids here selling their bodies to make money. He knows it, but he's never thought about one of them on a personal basis.
"I need to find someone called, 'Fox,'" he tells one of the braver girls.
He thinks she might even be old enough to buy alcohol, though he's not certain. Her face looks younger, but her eyes are old. Maybe even older than him.
"Whatcha want with Foxy?" The girl asks, her chin jutting out stubbornly.
She's afraid of him, but not as much as she might be in another job. There are plenty of johns that make Batman seem like a pussycat. He knows. He's beaten up a fair few of them.
"I need to ask her about someone," he pauses and adds, "Mouse told me to ask."
Another girl pushes forward from the shadows. She's wearing too much eye make-up and she's too skinny.
"Mouse? Is he okay?"
"Are you Fox?"
"Yeah," she smiles in a sardonic way that turns his stomach.
He's already eaten three antacids on the way here.
"Go by Foxy nowadays though."
He'll have to tell Mouse.
"Mouse has a new home. He's safe now," he tells her.
"He was a good boy," she tells him, looking sad and young.
"Still is," Batman tells her in a soft voice. "We recently shut the Cases down. We got Giraffe and the rest of them out. They have new homes. Mouse told me how to help them."
A real smile comes across her face. One that makes her seem impossibly young.
He can't imagine what it would be like to lust after a body as young as hers. Even the thought makes him ill.
"Maybe you can tell me how to find them?" She asks.
He nods, looking her over. He makes a decision and pulls out a piece of paper, writing two phone numbers on it from memory.
"The first is Giraffe's number. Mary's," he adds. "Justin and Kitten went with her. The second number is Greg and Daniel's."
She takes the piece of paper and holds it up to the light before tucking it safely away in her bra.
He doesn't doubt that the numbers are already memorized.
"You said you were trying to find out about someone?"
"We haven't been able to work out Toad's real name."
Her face falls.
"I loved that kid," she admits, looking pained. "I doubt you're gonna tell me anything good though. He was living on borrowed time after what happened in the basement."
He nods and swallows hard. It's freezing out and she's only wearing a small skirt and an even tinier jacket. He wants to put her in the Batmobile and take her somewhere warm. He already knows that she won't let him, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't want to.
"He died. Maroni killed him," he says in a quiet voice.
She nods, blinking back her tears before they can ruin her make-up.
"Yeah, that tracks," she says, clearing her throat. "You're real bad for business, Bats," she adds with a broken laugh.
"Let me pay for your time, then," he offers.
"No, you already have," she disagrees, patting the spot she'd put the numbers. "Ask your question and then fuck off."
He's not offended.
"What was his name?"
"Clarence. He hated that fucking name. Only reason I knew it was because when we watched 'It's a Wonderful Life,' he told me that it was his name too."
"And his last name?" He asks, not hoping for much.
He's not disappointed.
"Fuck if I know," she tells him with a shrug.
"Thank you then. For your time."
"Thank you for letting me know about the kids," she says like she's not just a kid herself. "You sure Mouse is okay?"
"I can bring him to visit sometime if you like," he offers.
"Yeah. Yeah, okay. If he wants."
--
He finds Gordon in his office after he leaves the girls. The man looks up at the sound of his window opening. His tie is undone and he's sporting at least three days of stubble.
"When's the last time you went home?" He asks, mildly concerned.
"Shut the window, for god's sake. Were you raised in a barn?" Gordon responds, deflecting.
He shuts the window and circles around to stand in front of the desk.
"Jesus, please sit down," Gordon grumbles, squeezing the bridge of his nose and not looking at him. "Stop looming. You're going to give me a complex."
He sits.
"Okay, what new terrible news have you got for me?" Gordon asks, looking up.
Gordon's eyes are bloodshot. He feels bad that Gordon has already clocked the reason for his visit.
"I know Toad's first name," he says instead.
Leading with what good news he has.
"And?"
"Clarence."
That gets an eyebrow.
"And where'd you learn that?"
"Another survivor of the Cases' works as a prostitute in Crime Alley. She was there at the same time as Toad. I got her to talk to me by telling her I know Mouse."
Gordon sighs and takes his glasses off and starts cleaning them.
"Speaking of Mouse," Batman says, continuing when Gordon doesn't say anything. "Wayne was contacted this morning by CPP to let him know that he's been granted temporary custody of the boy."
"Well, that's something at least," Gordon mutters, putting his glasses back on.
“It also turns out that the timeline for Tim’s disappearance is wrong. He told Wayne that his parents purposely abandoned him in Crime Alley on the 19th of July. On his birthday.”
“Will Wayne let me ask him questions about that? I really want to issue their arrest warrants as soon as possible,” Gordon says, looking over the top of his glasses at him.
”I can’t see why he wouldn’t,” he answers.
They lapse back into silence as Gordon looks at him expectantly. The man is too observant.
"And . . . Buster Case is a pedophile who abused Toad while he was in their care," he adds slowly.
He doesn't want to think of what Tim had to have witnessed while he was there. He knows Tim had to have seen more than what he's told him.
"It's why Buster nearly killed him. Apparently, Toad told Case that he would 'bite it off next time,' and Case didn't take that very well."
"Well, fuck," Gordon says with a gusty sigh. "I'll add it to their file."
He nods.
"And the other survivor? What's their name? And did they witness this attempt on Toad's life?"
"Fox, though she goes by Foxy now. She was there."
Silence.
"Jim," Batman says, his voice breaking slightly. "She can't be more than fifteen. Tim told Wayne that she had been a prostitute before she went to the Cases. He said that Toad already knew her because they both worked the same area."
He swallows uncomfortably and then continues.
”Tim also told Wayne that she offered herself to be used in the place of Toad and Case turned her down. He told her that she wasn’t his type.”
Gordon rubs a hand down his face, looking exhausted and more than a little heartsick.
"I gotta go home for a bit and get some sleep," Gordon finally says in a gravelly tone, standing up and reaching for his coat on the back of his chair.
He stands up as well.
"Just, close the window on your way out," Gordon says tiredly, walking around the desk and heading for the door.
He looks older than usual. Like this case has been sucking the life out of him.
Batman understands the sentiment.
"Get some sleep, okay?" He says before Gordon reaches the door.
"Hm," Gordon grunts. "One could say the same to you."
--
Eventually, Dick has no choice but to go back to Bludhaven. Couch surfing is fun in the short term, but only for a little while. He's just glad he's already killed his houseplants.
Barbara calls him shortly after he's made it in the door and dumped his bag near his bed.
It's only been a few days, but his apartment smells musty like it's been a week since he was last here. Home sweet hole in the wall.
"Oy, Boy Wonder," she says.
He switches the phone over to speaker phone and cracks a few windows. It's sleeting outside and the sound is sort of comforting.
”Let me guess,” he says, slumping tiredly on his couch. “You want me to turn around and come right back.”
”That’s a given,” Barbara tells him.
He can almost hear her eye roll.
”No, it’s something else. A couple of somethings, actually.”
”Well, don’t leave me hanging. I’m way too fucking tired.”
”Poor baby,” she coos.
“Shut up,” he grumbles. “Okay, I’m ready.”
”Buster Case is a pedophile.”
He sits up so fast that his neck cracks.
”What did you say? And wait, HOW do you know!?”
”How else? Tim told Bruce. Bruce told me.”
”He didn’t—? Please tell me—," he gasps and puts his head between his knees, fighting with himself to keep his breathing even.
"No, it was Toad," Barbara tells him, her tone soft and apologetic. "I think that—if I'm reading between the lines correctly—Tim wasn't quite old enough for him," she says delicately. "B says that Toad was Tim's protector."
He sits up and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefingers, pinches hard enough to make his eyes water and takes a pained breath through his mouth.
"You said there were two somethings—?" He finally manages after swallowing down the tears that are threatening to spill out.
"Morgan Wallace, Toad and Mouse's case worker? Has just fled to Bludhaven."
"You don't say," he says, his own voice going cold as he shoots to his feet. "I don't suppose you have an address?"
"Just sent it to you."
Dick's responding grin is bloodthirsty.