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Winter in Gotham had been cold, cruel, and icy. It had been filled with near freezing patrols, that usually ended with two little vigilantes huddled under Batman’s cape (the cold still hasn’t convinced Dickie to switch his shorts for long pants, no matter how much Bruce begs him). Bruce would always end patrol for his boys at this point, taking them home to enjoy Alfred’s hot cocoa by the fire before going out for solo patrol. Dick had become less grumpy about ending patrol before 8PM, so that Batman could continue his night patrols solo. Dick has a little brother to play with so ending patrol early is acceptable. Playtime usually involves glitter bombing the Batcave, or swapping out Batman’s bat-a-rangs for cheese puffs in his spare utility belt, but Bruce wouldn’t have it any other way. He loves his boys and somehow becoming an accidental dad has become just as important as being the Dark Knight.
That’s the main reason that after the cold, cruel winter ended, Bruce seized his first chance to enjoy the warmer weather with his family. A sunny day in the park, with the sun shining down on Bruce feels better than punching Joker in the face.
He closes his eyes as he relaxes on the park bench.
“Dad! Look!”
Bruce recognizes Jason’s voice immediately. He can hear the excitement in Jay’s voice so there’s an 80% chance he’s doing something dangerous and unnecessary. There’s a 100% chance that Dick convinced him to do it.
Bruce cracks one eye open and sure enough, Jason is sitting on Dick’s shoulders at the top of the slide with his arms out wide. Dick has a firm grip on Jason’s thighs, so there’s no real danger of the boy flying over the side. Jason is combat trained, so he knows how to fall safely, but Bruce still holds his breath when the two boys whiz down the slide. The slide ride ends with Jason falling on top of Dick at the bottom and both boys collapsing into laughter.
Dick squeals from under Jason, “It failed because you were looking, Dad. We did it the last three times perfectly. And when I was on Jay’s shoulders, he tossed me into a triple somersault when we were halfway down. I even stuck the landing.”
Bruce is thankful he didn’t see that, but instead of yelling, he sighs.
“Just be careful boys. We don’t want to get kicked out of the park. Remember what happened at the supermarket?”
Apparently shopping cart races are frowned upon. Crashing into the squeezy cheese display didn’t help either. Thankfully, Wayne money can fix just about anything.
The two boys give Bruce a less than enthusiastic, “Yes, Dad,” but Dick whispers something in Jason’s ear and the two go over to the monkey bars giggling.
Bruce closes his eyes again and waits for the inevitable head wound.
Sure enough, there’s a scream less than a minute later, but it’s not Dick or Jason. It’s a much higher pitched scream from a child that sounds quite younger than eleven or twelve.
Bruce’s eyes snap open and he jumps off the bench. He doesn’t have to look around because the screaming child is charging straight right at him.
Bruce only has a moment to spot the little boy before the kid jumps into his arms. Bruce hadn’t even realized that he was holding his arms open. The little boy buries his face on Bruce’s shoulder and he’s still screaming, but it’s muffled by Bruce’s soft black sweater. The crying boy’s fists are clenching the sweater, and he’s holding on for dear life.
“It’s okay,” Bruce says soothingly, even though he’s not sure what the danger is.
He quickly gets an answer in the form of an aggressive, “QUACK!!!”
He looks down at his feet and the initial quack is followed by another round of angry quacks and flapping wings.
The little boy in Bruce’s arms starts screaming again and holds onto Bruce tighter, which just agitates the duck (who Bruce has now identified as mama duck). Mama Duck’s fuzzy babies are toddling behind her and cheeping along, much less aggressively.
Bruce tries not to laugh, because this is clearly a traumatic situation for the little guy, but he can’t help chuckling as he rubs the kid’s back.
“You’re safe. I won’t let Mama Duck hurt you.”
The little boy sniffles and turns his head to peek at Bruce, still keeping a cheek on his shoulder.
“I-I just wanted to pet the fuzzy ducks,” the boy says between hiccupped sobs, “b-but then the big one st-started to honk and chase me, and – and –” he buries his face against Bruce’s shoulder again.
At this point Mama Duck is biting Bruce’s pant leg and with Bruce’s hands being full of a trembling kid, he can’t exactly shoo the angry duck away. The duck isn’t a threat to Bruce, but her quacks are sending the little boy into an even deeper panic.
Bruce yells, “Shoo. Go away!”
This only results in the duck honking louder and the crying boy starts crying even more. Before Bruce can fail any harder, Dick and Jason come to the rescue.
Dick has a piece of bread in his hand and waves it in front of the duck family. It’s enough to get Mama and her ducklings to forget all about Bruce, and waddle over to the food. Dick breaks a piece and sprinkles it on the ground. After a few munches, the ducks follow Dick away from Bruce and the little boy, hoping to get a larger piece of the meal.
The kid propped on Bruce’s hip settles a bit when the threat of danger gets further away, but he’s still holding onto the fabric of Bruce’s sweater with a vice grip.
Bruce sighs in relief as he watches his two sons dance around the lake, sprinkling bread along the way. A voice next to his ear pulls his attention away from the boys.
“Is it really safe?” asks the boy resting on his shoulder.
“It sure is, buddy. You’re safe now.”
“I knew it was a good idea,” the boy whispers, almost to himself. He looks over at Bruce and smiles. “The trees are too tall to climb so I had to find something else tall, so picked you, Mister.”
“That was very smart of you. You’re a very bright boy. What’s your name?”
“Timofwee.” The boy blushes and clears his throat. He tries again. “Timothy. My name is Timothy Jackson Drake. We’re neighbors.”
“Is that so?” Bruce says, while scanning for anyone that looks like they lost a child. Surely, little Timothy isn’t at the park alone. He doesn’t see Mr. or Mrs. Drake, but he does see a frantic teenage girl running toward him.
“Timmy,” she yells. “You can’t disappear like that, kiddo. Your parents will kill me if something happens to you.”
“I’m sorry,” Timmy says sheepishly, “But the duck was really mad. I had to get away. She was trying to hurt me. Mr. Wayne is tall and he lifted me out of the way.”
The teenager looks from Tim to Bruce and bites her lip.
“I’m so sorry Mr. Wayne. I looked away for one second to check something on my phone and when I turned back, he was gone. I’m so sorry that he bothered you.”
“It’s not a bother at all,” Bruce says with a smile. “I’m more than happy to play hero for the day. Ducks can be pretty scary.”
Timmy shivers and nods. “Ducks are really, really scary, Miss. Jenny. They’re really loud too.”
Jenny crosses her arms and taps her foot impatiently.
“C’mon, Timmy. We’ve wasted enough of Mr. Wayne’s time. Tell him thank you and let’s get going.”
Timothy nods and his teary blue eyes lock onto Bruce.
“Thank you for saving my life.”
“What?!” Jason shouts as he walks over. “Dickie and I should be getting the thank you. We did all the work. I didn’t see Bruce tossing bread at that murder duck.”
Tim squeaks and buries his head against Bruce’s shoulder again. Bruce rubs his back.
“Too soon?” Jason asks.
Dick elbows him. “Yeah, too soon, Jay. Hey, Dad, there’s an ice cream truck parked over by the playground. Can we get some ice cream for the kid? That might calm him down. I remembered to bring my Lactaid pills with me, so I can have ice cream too.”
Bruce thinks ice cream is a great idea, but he looks at Jenny first before agreeing to it. Timmy’s babysitter smiles, “Ice cream sounds perfect.”
Timmy requests that Bruce carry him during the walk to the ice cream truck (‘Just in case Mama Duck comes back’), but by the time they reach the ice cream truck, Tim’s on the ground and holding one of Jason’s hands, pointing at all the different flavors.
No ducks were sighted for the rest of the afternoon.
----
Jason swings his arms out wildly, and Dick ducks just in time before he’s whacked in the face. Jason doesn’t notice and continues his lunchtime conversation. His Gotham accent always gets heavier when he’s excited.
“Alfie, the Mama Duck was huge and she was out for blood. Bru- um, Dad was screamin’ louder than the kid in his arms and if it wasn’t for me and Dickie savin’ the day, it would have been so bad. Dad bought us ice cream, but I think he should’a bought us a whole ice cream truck for our heroics.”
Alfred smiles, but lifts an eyebrow.
“What would you do with an ice cream truck, Master Jason? I assure you, the only correct answer is that you would spoil dinner every night.”
“Nu uh,” Jason says, shaking his head. “If I had an ice cream truck, I’d eat some ice cream, but then I’d drive it into Crime Alley and give free ice cream to all the kids. And I’d give ice cream to the working girls too. When I was living in Crime Alley, I’d get so hungry, Alfie. If there was a dude giving out free ice cream and the dude wasn’t just using the truck as a front for selling drugs, that would have been so cool.”
Jason shoves half his peanut butter and jelly sandwich into his mouth. He’s learning to eat slower, but he still has the fear that if he doesn’t eat fast enough, someone is going to take it away. When he lived at the homeless shelter if he didn’t eat fast and literally put an arm around his food as a barrier, the older kids would take parts of his meal. The cafeteria never gave seconds, so protecting his food was extremely important. Sadly, it’s a habit that Jason is having trouble breaking.
Bruce hums from across the table, “Do you want me to buy an ice cream truck, Jaylad? If I can’t find a way to work it into the quarterly budget at Wayne Enterprises, I could just buy one myself.”
Jason is about to shout, “Yes! Just don’t let Dickie name it the Bat-cream truck,” but before he gets a chance, the doorbell rings, drawing everyone’s attention to the front door.
Alfred gracefully floats over to the door and Bruce follows. Jason knows he should stay at the table and keep eating, but he’s curious, so he hops out of his chair and nudges Dick to follow. By the time the two boys reach the front door, the person in the doorway is mid-conversation. It’s Jenny from the park and she sounds stressed out.
“– or I’ll fail Chemistry. I know this is a huge favor, but I can’t bring Timmy with me to the study group at the library or to the exam room when the test starts. I just need you to watch him for, like, three hours, Mr. Wayne. I promise, after the test, I’ll be right back.”
“Please, call me Bruce. Your studies are important, and it would be no bother at all to watch Timothy. I think that –.”
Jason stops paying attention when he meets Timmy’s eyes and the little neighbor waves. Tim has one hand clutching a camera that’s hanging from his neck and the other hand is sheepishly waving.
Jason runs over and yells, “Baby Duckie.”
Tim giggles and his whole face turns a dark shade of pink. “Hi, Jason. You remembered me.”
“Dude, we had ice cream with you a few hours ago. I’ve had a few punches to the head over the years, but I haven’t lost my entire short-term memory yet.”
Tim puffs out his chest and looks just like one of those baby ducks at the park. “If anyone tries to punch you again, you can call me, and I’ll handle it.” His chest deflates. “But if it’s a duck, you’re on your own.”
“Ducks can’t punch. They don’t have hands,” Jason says, ruffling Tim’s hair.
Bruce and Jenny’s conversation must have ended because Jenny crouches down in front of Tim.
“You better be good for Mr. Wayne. If he tells me you caused any trouble, I’m telling your mom and dad.” Tim bites his lip and nods. Jenny opens her arms, “Now give me a hug so I can go. I don’t want to be late.”
Tim hugs his babysitter before she races out the door.
And that’s how Tim started coming over regularly to Wayne Manor. Jenny continued to have scheduling issues and kept dropping Tim off at the Waynes. Tim begged Bruce not to tell Jack and Janet about the surprise visits because he didn’t want Jenny to get in trouble. Tim even offered to pay Bruce’s babysitting fees from his piggybank (he gets a nice allowance from his parents every week and he’s really good at saving), but Bruce just chuckled and told Timmy he would always have a second home at Wayne Manor.
Eventually Tim started coming over without Jenny bringing him. The weather was warm enough and Bristol was safe enough for the boy to walk the short trip from his house to the Manor without anything terrible happening, and Tim only stayed for the afternoon, because Dick and Jason had patrol later in the day, so Tim always had the daylight to accompany him on the walk over and the walk back home.
Today, however, the weather is terrible. It had been raining since early morning. Tim hadn’t come over with an umbrella, so when he shows up at the front door, Alfred shakes his head and tsks.
“Master Timothy. My dear boy. You are soaked to the bone. Allow me to provide you with dry clothes and the option of a warm shower.”
Tim accepts both.
He doesn’t want to get out of the nice warm shower, but eventually when he does, he’s greeted with the dry clothes that Alfred promised. Tim cuffs Jason’s borrowed sweatpants at the ankles and rolls the waist a few times so that the pants fit. The T-shirt’s baggy, but it’s not too bad. His sneakers are wet, and Alfred didn’t provide slippers, so Tim makes his way down the hallway in socks. The socks make his footsteps silent, which explains why the Wayne’s don’t hear him approaching. Dick’s voice is quiet, but Tim can still hear.
“– and the thunderstorm won’t stop until the morning. Me and Jay can stay home from patrol, and we can have a sleepover with Tim. I’ll tell him to call Jenny so she doesn’t have to head back to Drake Manor after her dentist appointment.”
Tim bites his thumb nail. There’s no dentist’s appointment.
Tim’s mom and dad fired Jenny two weeks ago because they needed to “cut frivolous expenses” and Tim is eight now so they feel that he’s old enough to look after himself. Tim’s young but even he knows that his parents can get in trouble for leaving him unsupervised all day and night while they’re on their six-month business trip, but Tim fixed that problem.
Tim fixed the unsupervised-home-alone part by inviting himself over to the Waynes a few times a week. He fixed the there’s-no-more-Jenny part by coming up with creative excuses – like dentist appointments and picking a friend up from the airport. He feels a little bad about lying to the Waynes, but it’s only a little fib. Besides, the Waynes tell bigger lies. Tim knows that Bruce is Batman, and Dick and Jason are Robin. Tim has never seen them actually fighting in person (but he always has his camera ready just in case). He’s seen news reporters call Dick and Jason Robin. That’s probably really confusing if Batman does that too. Tim could help Batman find a better way to keep that organized, but since Tim isn’t technically supposed to know the Bat-secret, that will have to wait.
Also, when Tim was stargazing with his new binoculars one night, he saw a boy wearing a blue hoodie and sweatpants, and a boy wearing a red hoodie and cargo pants sneaking out of Wayne Manor. It took some time for Tim to piece together the clues, but he eventually solved the mystery. Jason and Dick patrol with Batman in the early hours of the evening, but in the shadow of darkness, when Batman patrols solo, the boys, disguised in hoodies and masks covering their mouths, would sneak off to Crime Alley to help the kids that Jason always promised to protect.
Tim’s daydreaming causes him to miss a big chunk of the conversation, but when he tunes in again, Jason is talking.
“– like a million messages. The kid’s parents are blowing up his phone. They called like, fifty times since he’s been in the shower.”
Jason is holding Tim’s phone in his hand and Tim can’t hold back an excited squeak. His parents never call him.
Jason whips around, but Bruce is the first one to see Tim.
“Tim,” Bruce says with a smile. “You’re a popular boy. Your parents have been calling.”
Tim takes his phone back from Jason and presses the missed call. It rings once before Jack Drake picks up.
“For God’s sake, Timothy. Why did it take you so long to answer the phone?”
“Sorry, Dad. I was in the shower. Is everything okay?”
“No, Timothy. Everything is not okay. I need you to go to Wayne Manor. I need to ask Wayne something.”
“I’m already there,” Tim says proudly. He knows his dad will be happy that he saved him time. “I came over to play with Jason and Dick. Jason has a puzzle –.”
“I don’t care,” Jack interrupts angrily. “Just put the phone on speaker and hand it to Wayne.”
Tim does as told, and Bruce clears his throat.
“This is Bruce,” he says.
“Ah, Bruce,” Jack says, much kinder than when he was speaking to Tim. “I need to ask you a favor, Old Buddy.”
“Go ahead,” Bruce says slowly.
“Janet and I are in a little bit of a pickle. Well, actually we’re in a $500 million pickle and it’s for the best if we avoid coming back to Gotham. My financial advisor actually advised that me and the misses stay out of the country for a few years until this all blows over. That being said, we need someone to watch over Timothy. We don’t want to abandon him, you see, but we don’t have room in our situation for a child. Our hands are full enough without that headache. We’re trying to keep our burdens light. Do you mind watching the little scamp for us? You can pawn him off on your other kids if you need to, but he’s a quiet and polite little thing so he shouldn’t cause too much trouble. If he acts up, I give you permission to, you know, show him who’s boss. You’re doing Janet and me a huge favor so if you have to knock the kid around, I won’t fault you. So, what do you say? Can I count on you?”
Tim is trying so hard not to cry, but the tears are spilling out of his eyes anyway. He can’t hold back the tears, but thankfully he keeps the sobs contained. If Tim’s mom were here, she would say that the sobbing wasn’t contained enough. She has strict rules about crying in public after Tim stubbed his toe at a gala and he bawled his eyes out. If she had seen the Duck Incident earlier? She would have disowned him. Although, isn’t that what she’s doing right now? Tim is being given to Bruce because he’s a burden.
Tim can’t push away the swelling emotions, but he makes sure to keep the sobbing silent. His shoulders bounce as his lungs stutter for breath, as he cries silently.
He’s trying so hard to control his silent outburst so he doesn’t upset Bruce, but unfortunately, Bruce is looking back at him horrified.
Oh no. He upset Batman.
This only makes Tim cry harder, and it’s too difficult to hold back the soft whimpers that slip out.
Jack’s voice cuts the tension, “Wayne? Are you still there? I didn’t hear your answer.”
“Your son is upset,” Bruce says through gritted teeth. “I’ll have to call you back.”
“Alright. Well don’t take too long. And Timothy, if you can hear me, stop causing trouble for Mr. Wayne. You’re going to make him think twice about looking after you. No one wants child that – .”
Jack’s voice cuts off. Bruce must have had enough and ended the call.
Tim sniffles. “I-I’m s-sorry,” he starts, but can’t finish. He starts sobbing uncontrollably. He uses his hands to cover his face and has the type of meltdown that his father would scream at him for.
Tim’s hands are covering his face so he can’t see Bruce, but he hears the phone hit the ground (he’s not sure if Bruce dropped it or threw it) and when Tim moves his fingers just enough to peek through, he sees Bruce sitting criss-cross-applesauce in front of him. The man is still too big to be eye-level with Tim, but it’s the closest he can get.
“Timothy,” Bruce says softly.
Tim flinches and Bruce tries again, “Timmy… is it better if I call you Timmy?
Tim moves his hands away and nods. He can feel someone’s hand rubbing circles on his back. He thinks it’s Dick. It feels nice and it’s helping him breathe better, so he leans into the touch.
Bruce takes a deep breath and Tim can’t help taking one with him. It must not be what Bruce expected because he looked like he was going to start speaking, but instead he continues to take slow deep breaths with Tim following along.
After Bruce and Tim play synchronized breathing for a while and Tim has stopped crying, Bruce finally starts to speak.
“That was a lot, wasn’t it? Are you feeling alright enough to talk?”
Bruce’s voice is so gentle that Tim’s eyes are burning with new tears. His dad never spoke to him like that. His dad also never asked if he wanted to talk, he just started yelling, even if it was two o’clock in the morning and he woke up Tim just to complain about ‘Useless airport security’ and dragged Tim out of bed to help carry luggage inside.
Tim’s not sure if he’s ready to speak, but he knows his mom and dad are waiting for Bruce to call them back. His voice is barely louder than a whisper.
“They aren’t coming back, are they?”
The hand that’s rubbing circles against his back stutters to a stop. Bruce’s eyes dart over Tim’s shoulder and the back rub starts up again.
Bruce takes another deep breath. This time Tim doesn’t join him.
“Your parents are…”
“Assholes,” Jason says from somewhere behind Tim.
Bruce glares at Jason, but Tim sees the smirk on Bruce’s face before it turns into a neutral thin line. He tries again.
“Your parents are going through some things and none of that is your fault. You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re a bright, kind, and amazing boy, Timmy. Your parents on the other hand are…” He looks like he wants to use Jason’s word, but settles on, “… complicated.”
He smiles before continuing, “I’ll take care of all the adult things concerning Jack and Janet. Your job is to let me know how you’re feeling and what I can do to help.”
“I’m alright, sir. I know that taking care of me isn’t something you expected, but Dad is right. I’ll stay out of your way. I won’t interfere with any of the Batman stuff. I promise.”
“Batman stuff?” Bruce asks with an eyebrow raised.
Tim slaps his hand over his mouth. His voice muffled by his hand.
“Oh no. I wasn’t supposed to say that.”
“You know that I’m Batman?”
Tim nods and bites his lip.
“Dad says it’s not polite to be a know-it-all because no one likes a bratty kid that knows everything, but please don’t be mad at me. I know your secret, but it’s only by accident, and I won’t tell anyone, I swear. I’m really good at keeping secrets, Batman. You didn’t know that Mom and Dad fired Jenny weeks ago and that I was taking care of myself. I kept that secret for weeks and you never knew. And Dad was right. I won’t get in your way of superheroing. You and your Robins won’t have to worry about me. I’m really good at taking care of myself and Alfred’s here too in case of emergencies.”
Tim adds the next part softly, “Please don’t send me away, sir. I’ve seen Annie three times. I don’t think I’d do good in an orphanage. Even the singing ones.”
Bruce cups Tim’s cheek with his hand. It’s so warm. No wonder Superman likes Batman. Batman feels as warm as the sun.
“Timmy, do you remember the mother duck at the park?”
Tim shivers and nods.
“Good. I’m that mother duck, Timmy. I protect my boys with everything I have. I would gladly give my life if I had to. You’re one of my boys now. And I promise you, little Drake, anyone that tries to hurt you will get far worse than a loud quack.”
Tim uses the heels of his hands to scrub away any leftover tears and wraps his arms around Bruce. His new dad kisses him on the top of the head and Tim’s little arms hug tighter.
“Hey, Dad,” Dick says. “Mama duck at the park had seven ducklings. Oh my god! Does that mean me and Jay are getting five more brothers and sisters?!”
Tim can feel Bruce’s chest rumbling as he chuckles.
“You’re getting one more for now.”
“Yay!” Dick and Jason cheer.
Dick joins the hug, squeezing in behind Tim. “Welcome to the family, Little Drake. Actually, that’s a terrible name, Dad. As the official namer of things, I already call Jay, Little Wing, so I’ll call Timmy… Baby Duck!”
Tim sniffles against Bruce’s warm sweater.
“What happens when I get older? You can’t call me Baby. Plus, I’m scared of ducks.”
“No sweat. When you get older I’ll call you Little Duck, cuz you’ll always be younger than me. Don’t worry about being afraid of ducks. Dad’s afraid of bats and he’s Batman.”
Jason doesn’t join in the hug, but he ruffles Tim’s hair.
“You wanna see the Batcave?” he asks.
Before Tim can squeal, “Absolutely,” Alfred appears out of nowhere and clears his throat.
“Master Jason, Master Richard, and Master Timothy, any and all exploring will be done after lunch. I expect all plates to be licked clean before anyone sets foot in the cave. Is that clear?”
“Yes Alfred,” three boys say in unison.
Alfred lifts an eyebrow and Bruce sighs, “Yes Alfred.”
“Vey well. I will meet you all in the dining room. And as for Master Timothy,” Alfred’s stern face melts into a smile. “Welcome to the family, young Master. We are all pleased to have you. Now, run along. Wash up.”
Tim runs along to the bathroom to do what he’s told, and he can’t stop smiling. He feels like the luckiest duck in the world.