Chapter Text
"Stop crying," his mother would command him when he was young. It would always work, shutting him up quickly so that she could focus on other things.
Janet Drake loved her power. She hated that Tim could do the same.
Either out of jealousy or ignorance, she never tells him anything she had learned about their shared power. So, Tim learned to figure things out for himself at a young age. He takes extensive notes.
1. He can control anyone he talks to, as long as it is clearly a command. Note: suggestions don't count.
2. He must do it consciously. Not everything he says is a command.
3. His commands can be overpowered either by his mother or by strong willpower. This is especially noticeable if the person knows what is going on.
4. He cannot make someone do something impossible. Commands such as 'fly', 'teleport', or 'lift a car' are not seen as commands. This also applies to doing things the person does not already know how to do.
5. Language barriers are a problem. The person must know the command he issues. His commands do work in other languages.
6. Commands cannot last forever. If they are not completed within 30 minutes, they will expire. This applies to any commands stopping an action, forcing a movement, or preventing an event. After a short refractory period, the command can be redone.
7. His power cannot alter or erase memories, nor can it change someone's opinions or personality.
Even with his notes, though, Tim does not fully understand his power. He never risks finding the limits of what he can make people do, considering he only ever tests on his father. The man is happy to oblige him, doing simple tasks around the house. When Tim asks, his father says that he should have an "outlet".
-
Tim is 12, just about to go to his first gala, when his mother pulls him aside. His father lets her.
"Timothy, listen to me," she commands. "You cannot use your power while we are there. I know you and your father have been experimenting, but I do not want to see you doing anything outside of this house. No one can know about your ability. If they do, you could be in a lot of trouble." Tim tries to ask why, but she shushes him. "Later. We have to go now or we'll be late."
-
He learns why later. His mom tells him about the Batman's rule about metahumans, that any of them found in Gotham are sent to Arkham to be studied by professionals. Tim doesn't blame him. He's seen the news, seen what most other metahumans are like. He knows he's not like that, but he stops using his power either way. He doesn't want to be locked up and studied!
That Christmas, as a gift for not using his powers, his parents buy him a camera.
Once again, his father indulges him. Jack poses for photos as long as he's not busy. He teaches Tim how and when to use different lenses. They go on walks around Bristol where Tim takes pictures of the buildings and nature around them. Once they're printed on nice paper, Jack hangs the best pictures up around the manor.
-
Next summer, his parents leave him alone for the first time. They hire a nice nanny, Mrs. Mac, but she's only there from ten to eight, and never on Sundays. Tim never uses his power on her.
When she's not there, he busies himself with the TV and his camera. He watches news footage of the Batman and his sidekick, Robin. He starts a whole folder of images to show to his father as soon as he gets back from the trip. The walls of his room are covered in printed photos of Batman and Robin from online as well as scenic shots Tim had taken in the past.
It was only natural that his interests merge eventually.
He's watched the news reports, he knows where Batman spends most of his time. Unfortunately, it's not Bristol. So, when the sun is going down on Saturday, a few hours after Mrs. Mac leaves, Tim leaves.
He takes a bus downtown, tipping the driver heavily before getting off. From there, he finds the highest building and takes an elevator to the top floor. The hotel staff assumes he is the kid of one of the rich people staying there. He's certainly dressed the part. There's a little door that leads to the roof and, after making sure it won't set off any alarms, he opens it.
There's a small room with a locked door that he ignores in favor of the view. He can see the whole city, even his own house. As he unpacks his bag, placing his camera down carefully and unfolding a blanket, he prepares to wait.
After a few minutes, one thing becomes horribly clear. Tim is not alone on the rooftop. The man up there with him is silent in his approach, quickly grabbing Tim's bag when he turns away for a moment. "No!" Tim screams, careful not to use his power. This far away from home, it would be easy for someone to catch him and turn him into the cops or, worse, to Batman. "Stop!"The man doesn't stop, not for Tim.
He does stop for Robin, though.
The other kid is only a few years older than him, and only an inch or so taller. He trips the guy just as he opens the door to go back down, holding out a hand to catch the bag before it and the man collides with the concrete. In the meantime, Tim goes crazy. His camera emits a constant shutter noise as he photographs every second of the encounter. He doesn't dare say anything, in case it comes out wrong. His heart beats faster and faster every second the boy doesn't leave.
"You shouldn't be up here," Robin says over the noise. "It's too dangerous for a kid like you. Do you have a ride home?" Tim nods. "Then I recommend you start heading there. Stay safe!" Tim coughs on the smoke the boy uses to disappear.
He doesn't talk for the rest of the way back home. Not once.
-
A pinboard appears in the back of his closet. The red string may be tacky, but it works well to organize his thoughts. Pictures connect to other pictures which themselves connect to notes and articles written about the duo. A few of the images he took himself, but most of his bat and birdwatching ends up too blurry to be useful. Jack asks about it once while helping Tim with schoolwork, but he lies about it being an old-school project and it's never mentioned again.
Over time, his evidence repeatedly points to the same man. When it becomes undeniable, Tim puts the board in the fire pit outside and lights it as soon as his parents leave again. He toasts a s'more over the fire, content to take the secret to his grave.
And then Jason Todd.
And then Batman loses it.
Every day there are more and more people who want the vigilante unmasked for good, more and more reports of useless, ceaseless violence in the streets.
-
Tim goes to Dick first, finds his address in a book, and buys a bus ticket on Sunday. "Hello," he says when the door is opened. "Can I come in?" The fewer words the better, he reminds himself.
"What do you need?" Dick asks, skeptically, holding the door mostly shut.
"I need to talk to you about something. It's about, uhh... birds. Do you have time?" Tim asks, extremely careful with his wording.
He's pulled through the door quickly after that. "Who told you?" Dick growls. "What do you want?"
"I figured it out myself, sir, and I promise I've never told anyone else, not even my parents! And I'm here because, um," he takes a moment to really control himself. "You need to be Robin again!" Good, good, that's the hard part done. "Batman needs a Robin!"
"Listen, kid."
"Tim."
"Tim, I know you're upset and confused, but there's nothing I can do. What Bruce is going through... it can't be helped."
"I'm not confused," Tim almost screams. "I know what I'm talking about. Please, Mr. Grayson. Batman needs you! You," another deep breath, "have to go back to Gotham!"
"Alright, I understand, and I would go back, but I just can't, not right now. Bruce and I... I'm not what he needs at the moment. I'm glad you're worried, but there's no reason to be." He puts a hand on Tim's shoulder reassuringly. "Batman is fine working alone. Now, do you have a ride back?"
"Yeah," Tim lies. He hadn't actually bought another bus ticket yet. He turns around quickly. "Thanks, goodbye." He leaves as fast as he appears, tears already threatening to spill.
How could Dick Grayson (Nightwing!) not understand! Tim was sure that would solve it, that Dick could go back to Gotham and then he would never have to read another horrible article about Batman beating people close to death in the streets.
Tim only had one other option. He bought the ticket back to Bristol and began to plan his approach.
-
While Bruce and Dick hadn't been on good terms, they still keep in contact as part of the job. Dick is quick to message Bruce about what had happened, asking about possibly cashing in the favor for J'onn.
-
The place has a gold door knocker, Tim notes. Not solid gold, that would dent, but expensive either way. He knocks as loud as he can.
"Hello there," an old man greets him. "How can I help you today?"
"Hello. May I talk to Bruce Wayne?"
"I'm afraid he's busy at the moment Mr..."
"Drake."
"Mr. Drake. What did you need Master Wayne for? I shall pass along the message," he says with a kind smile.
"Tell him- wait. Can you tell him that I know? About the, ah, ears and wings." The butler freezes momentarily before pulling him inside the same way Dick had. With one hand wrapped tight around his arm, the butler leads him to a sitting room.
"Please stay here for just a moment young sir. I'm sure Master Wayne would love to talk to you. Do you prefer juice or water?"
"Water is fine," Tim says, already planning to avoid anything they give him like the plague. He cannot risk being drugged or poisoned. Who knows what they would do to him then. He's still not fond of being locked in Arkham to be studied.
"Just a moment then," the butler says as he leaves. Tim doesn't notice how he locks the door behind him.
-
"Tim, right?" Bruce asks him. He nods. "I'm happy to meet you." He refuses the handshake. "There's nothing to be afraid of," he laughs, "I promise." Tim still doesn't accept it.
"I know who you are," he says without any hesitation. "I have proof too."
"What are you talking about, Tim?"
"I never told your butler my name. I know Dick told you about me." He digs through his bag for the folder. "You can erase my memories later, I don't mind," he offers. "But you need to understand what you're doing! People are getting really hurt, Mr. Wayne! And people are scared of Batman! They don't trust him anymore. My dad taught me about PR, and I know that's really bad." He pulls out the folder, letting the articles and images spill over the table. There's pictures of people in hospitals next to extensive lists of their injuries, graphs showing a decline in public opinion towards Batman, and written reports from witnesses to the violence.
"Tim," Bruce tries, but the boy cuts him off.
"Don't try and deny it! There's nothing you can say to change my mind. Plus, I already told you that you can erase my memories later, so don't worry about that. I know that you're sad about Jason, but this is really bad!" In the moment, he doesn't even realize how easily he had managed to control the command. "Everything you do is being watched very closely. Even though most of the initial violence has stopped, people are still skeptical. They think Robin was what kept you sane."
"Tim," Bruce tries again, "calm down. Just tell me, how did you figure it out?"
"I took a lot of pictures and compared them to people who would have enough money and time to do what you do. Plus it was easy to match Robin's gymnast tendencies to Dick Grayson. I promise I didn't tell anyone."
"That's really impressive."
"Does this mean you'll let Dick come back?"
"Tim, it doesn't work like that. He doesn't want to come back, and Blüdhaven needs Nightwing."
"But Batman needs Robin! Gotham needs Robin!"
"Listen to me," he says suddenly strict, "there will not be another Robin. Ok?"
"Yes sir."
-
When Bruce finds him on a rooftop a week later, he has the same strict tone. "Go home, Tim."
"You can't make me."
"Tim."
"I'm taking photos of what you're doing. I've been posting them online to show people that you've gotten better."
-
After the fifth time, as Batman saves him from being mugged, he makes Tim agree to learn at least a little self-defense before going out again. Tim agrees with faux hesitation.
When he turns his back to handcuff the two men, though, Tim smiles widely. The first part of his plan had been a success. Being trained by Batman was the first step to becoming Robin, and that was his new goal. After all, if no one else would do it, he would just do it himself.
Pulling out his phone, presumably to text his parents, Tim completed the bank transfer, giving both of the muggers the thousand he had promised.
-
Alfred gave him the suit a year later, along with a knowing smile. "Smart boy," he praised as he helped apply the mask glue, "you really are good at getting what you want, aren't you?"
"You have no idea," Tim joked.
"How long have you been planning this?"
"Since I knocked on your door."
"Well, consider this my blessing, Master Tim. Now, you have the coordinates they're keeping Bruce at?" Tim nods. "And you understand what you're doing?" He nods again. "Then you best get on your way, Robin. Those kidnappers won't know what hit them."
"I'll have Bruce back in no time." He swings one leg over the expensive, colorfully painted bike.
"Stay safe."
"Of course, Alfred."
-
Hooo boy is Bruce not happy to see Tim. He pretends to be, of course, but there's rage in his eyes.
"It's not safe Alfred!" Bruce yells when they get back to the manor.
"He's trained," the butler responds elegantly.
"So was Jason!"
"Sir, what happened to Master Jason was a tragedy, but you cannot allow yourself to get killed because of it. Do you think he wanted this for you? For the Robin costume? He was an amazing young man, one I was honored to meet and care for, and he loved you. You saved him and he did the same to you. You have no right to undo all of the work he did! Master Timothy is brilliant and well-trained, and you need him. He's right about Batman needing a Robin. Let him help." Tim stands behind Bruce and tries to melt into the ground below him.
That night, though, Bruce finally lets him out of the cave.
-
As Robin, Tim continues to never use his powers. It's become easy to talk without them. The switch is automatically set to off, finally. Not that it stops the nightmares about Bruce finding out and shipping him away forever. It's been years since he last issued a command, and he's fine with that. It's better for everyone if Robin is a normal human.
-
Tim wakes up slowly. Every part of his body hurts. His arms are strung high above his head by solid steel chains that pull at his shoulders. "Batman?" He rattled the chains. "Are you there?"
He hears a groan from nearby, but can't see anyone in the dark. "I'm here, Robin," Bruce responds. "Status report."
"I'm chained to the wall. Headache and nausea indicate a mild concussion."
"Heard. What do you remember?"
"I was taking down a bot while you fought Riddler. I think I was knocked out."
The lights flash green suddenly, making his concussion a million times worse as the room turns a neon green. He can see Bruce a few feet to his right, chained to a chair instead of the wall. The Riddler's voice hurts his head even more. "Riddle me this, Detective," he says into a microphone. "What's black and red at the push of a button?" Tim uses the light to try and escape the metal cuffs.
"What, Nygma?"
"A Bat in a blender," he screams as two sawblades spring to life at the press of a button. "Alrighty, next one! Who can finish a book without finishing a sentence?"
"A prisoner," Tim answers as fast as he can. A large horn erupts from the same speakers as the Riddler's microphone.
"Ohhh, I'm sorry little birdie, but that wasn't addressed to you now, was it," he sneers. "And with the answer already out there, I'm afraid we have to skip right to the end of our little game. I sentence you both to death!" He presses another button on the panel.
The spinning blades begin to move on their tracks, encircling them both horrifyingly fast before beginning to move closer. At this rate, they have a minute, max, before the blades are tearing into them. Bruce is silent beside him, likely planning their escape. Tim continues to try and get out of the cuffs.
Fifteen seconds go by with neither of them progressing. Another fifteen. The blades are close now, and Nygma is still watching intently, microphone in hand.
"Riddler!" Tim calls to get his attention. "Stop the saws!" He forces every ounce of power into the words, watching as the man's eyes glaze over and he presses the two buttons yet again. "Release me!" He presses a third button and Tim is free. "In twenty minutes, release Batman as well. Do not turn the blades back on. Do not try and injure him. Stay right there until twenty minutes have passed and then let yourself be apprehended."
Bruce gives him a wild, confused look. "Don't try and find me," Tim says normally.