Chapter Text
When Tim had drifted off into oblivion, he had had no idea what to expect next. No one really knew what happened after you die. Maybe he’d end up randomly coming back like Jason. Or just lose all consciousness forever.
He was not expecting to wake up. He definitely wasn’t expecting to wake up with one hell of a cold in his ten-year-old body, six months after Jason had been adopted by Bruce. When he woke up to his sterile room in the Drake manor and scrambled out of bed and caught a glimpse of himself in his full body mirror, he felt entitled to freak out. Eventually his beating heart calmed down in the stillness of the manor and he went straight away to his laptop, looking up all relative information and taking stock of his situation. That’s how he found out his exact age and what point he was in in Batman’s timeline.
He didn’t know what to feel. He had just died saying goodbye to one of the only people left who cared for him, and now he was suddenly back in a happier time. Bruce would still be the warm and open spirit that he was before the death of Jason changed him. Bruce and Jason were still in the early days of their Batman and Robin partnership when Robin was still magic. Dick was not yet the steady older brother who was always there for his younger brother, but overall, the Wayne family was happier. Everyone, that is, except for Tim.
No one would remember Tim. All of his fond memories and the times when him and Dick would get ice cream or hang out or cry on each other’s shoulder’s were gone. He was back to being invisible and forgotten. That was not a happy thought.
What was Tim supposed to do next? He had no idea how he had gotten back in time, but it appears that he was stuck in this time with no way to go back to the future. Even if he found a time machine he would still be changing the timeline because he had apparently replaced his younger self. If he went to the future there would be no Tim Drake to help Batman through everything that had happened. So that means that whatever happens, he was probably going to change the timeline somewhat because there is no possible way for Tim to do everything he ever did the exact same way.
Should he try to stick close to the original timeline? Tim thought of Jason, who always cared so much for every civilian and was full of life and energy. He thought of Jason, being brutally murdered at only fifteen years old. Jason, coming back to life in so much pain and anger, trying to destroy the family he had used to love. Jason, Tim’s hero, beating him half to death, so different from that cheerful boy he used to see when he followed him around when Jason was Robin.
Then Tim thought of Bruce, who would make jokes and who seemed so warm and gentle to little Tim who had watched from afar. Bruce, who gave an agonized cry as he got to Jason’s broken body just a few moments too late. Bruce, who still carried the pain that came with that even after Jason came back.
Tim would not, could not, stand by and watch as his family crumbled to the ground for a second time. Wasn’t that the point of being Robin? To help Batman help others? Once a Robin, always a Robin. Tim was going to have to figure a way out to help the family and to save Jason.
As Tim sat on his bed in the empty manor, he had an inkling of an idea. It would be somewhat manipulative, and part of him wanted to do it just for a chance to connect with his family once more, but it might work.
Tim was supposedly a ten-year-old who was staying all alone in Gotham for months at a time with only weekly checkups from Mrs. Mack, the housekeeper. He had a sympathetic sob story going for him. He could use Bruce’s absolute weakness for little boys with blue eyes black hair, and an orphan-like situation to integrate himself into the Wayne family. That way, by the time Jason had the idea of running away because Bruce was being stupid and not immediately believing that Jason was innocent, Tim could be there and convince him to stay or warn Bruce that he was running away, or hack into the records of Jason’s birth mom to prove that she was a crook.
Now was the perfect time as he had a cold that was quickly evolving into a fever and there was no more medicine in the house. He could conveniently ask his neighbors for medicine, and no doubt they would want to know more about his situation.
He slowly walked over to the living room where the landline was and flipped the phonebook to the Wayne residence number. The more time went by, the happier he was with his plan. He was already shivering from his rising fever his body ached al over, his throat felt like sandpaper whenever he swallowed, and he had a pounding headache taking over his senses. He could use someone taking care of him right about now.
The phone dialing noise echoed in the vast hall that was the living room, ringing several times before it was answered. Tim’s heart pounded in his chest as he waited for the person on the other edge of the phone to speak.
“Hello, Wayne residence, how may I help you?” Spoke Alfred’s sophisticated British voice.
“Hello,” whispered Tim. “This is Tim Drake. I’m next door to you. I’m sick and ran out of medicine, do you have any extra?”
“We have medicine we can give you. But, why are you calling your neighbors? Are your caretakers not around?”
“No, the housekeeper is on vacation. I’m all alone.”
Tim heard an intake of breath and what sounded like someone moving around. “I am going to drive over there with the medicine. I’ll be there in around ten minutes.”
“Okay, thanks!”
Tim made his way to the front door, collapsing against the wall. He tried to remember if he ever got this sick the first time around, and after searching his memory, he realized that this was the time he had tried walking to the Wayne’s house for help only to pass out and be found by a kind gardener who had some Advil in his care that he had given him.
Tim caught site of his reflection on the polished marble floor. He was so tiny. Was he ever this tiny the first time around? Tim didn’t like seeing how small he was. It reminded him too much of the many children that Tim had interacted with as Robin who needed their parents. Did his parents really leave someone so small for months at a time? Did Mrs. Mack really think it was okay to take a two week vacation to let a ten-year-old fend for himself?
Tim knew that technically his parents were not the best, but he didn’t like dwelling on it. He had always been independent and able to take care of himself so it was fine. He was fine with it. He understood that his parents work was very important to them, they couldn’t be around for Tim.
That’s what he usually thought, but it was different when confronted with how small and helpless and childlike he had been. Why couldn’t his parents have kept a full-time nanny like most other rich families? They acted like spending even the smallest amount of money, such as the upkeep of the thermostat and any of the added things Tim had asked for was a major inconvenience. There was even a limit on the amount of money Tim could spend on food which Tim had gotten around by hacking into the software that his parents had installed to keep track of expenses.
His parents acted like Tim was a burden that they were duty ‘bliged to take care of, not like a real son. How was that okay to do to a ten-year-old? Tim would be angry if Jason or Dick went through that when they were little.
Tim’s musings were cut short by the doorbell. That must be Alfred. He really didn’t feel like standing up to open the door, but he did it anyway. Alfred gazed down at him, probably taking in the feverish rosy cheeks, the sweat that was in his hair, and the far away look of someone who is feverish that Tim had. Cool soothing hands felt his forehead, and Alfred’s familiar voice echoed through the halls, sounding rather far away. Was Alfred still there? Where was Tim? He didn’t care as he sank into sleep.
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Time flew by in flashes of warmth and cold and calm voices. When Tim finally woke up, he had no idea how long it had been. He was in a Wayne manor guest room. Late morning light shone through the window, and the clock on the bedside read 11:25. It didn’t take long after that for Alfred to come in.
Alfred looked so much younger was the first thing Tim noticed. Two deaths and six years had done a number on him in Tim’s time. Now he still had shadows following him, as a world where Batman was needed could never be without pain, but he looked lighter. Losing Jason had really been a shattering point for the family. He was carrying a washcloth and a thermometer, his stride pausing slightly has he noticed that Tim was awake.
“Good morning Mr. Timothy.”
“Hello.” Tim took a confused look around the room, pretending he didn’t recognize anything.
“I moved you to Wayne Manor. Your fever was 104.2 so you were not safe to be alone.” Alfred managed to sound disapproving when he said the word alone. Tim could tell what he thought of his situation.
“Thanks for taking care of me. I hope it wasn’t too much of a bother.”
“I am happy to help. How are you feeling today?”
Tim took a moment to assess how he felt. His body felt exhausted, and he still had a sore throat, but he no longer felt like he was dying. “I’m feeling a lot better.”
The rest of the conversation passed in somewhat of a haze. Alfred introduced himself and said that Bruce was going to talk to him a little later and left to grab some food for Tim.
He came back with chicken noodle soup and some biscuits which gave Tim nostalgia for the simpler times when it was just Bruce and Tim and Alfred around. Before Jason came back and tried to murder him. And before Damian came around to do the same. Wait a second, Tim had forgotten about Damian! Sure, Tim didn’t like the little demon brat but that didn’t mean he was going to sit back while Damian was in such an abusive situation.
Tim’s mind was working in overdrive. He had to come up with a way to manipulate circumstances so that Damian would be found as soon as possible. He was what? Six years younger than Tim. That would make him only four years old right now.
There were some things he couldn’t do. No one would believe him for sure if he told the truth that he was a time-traveling back-from-the-dead superhero. They had dealt with time travel before but never just a consciousness being sent to their previous body.
His plotting was interrupted as Bruce walked in the room. Bruce had less worry lines and less grey hair than before and the whole way he carried himself was free of the weight that had clung to him ever since Jason died. Seeing him made Tim want to cry as the emotions of the last few days threatened to overflow. Tim swallowed it all down and prepared himself for the conversation ahead.
Bruce gave Tim a surprisingly gentle smile. “Hello Timothy. How are you feeling today?”
“I am feeling a lot better. And you can call me Tim.”
“I’m glad to hear that. There is something I need to talk to you about though.”
Tim nodded his head as he nervously waited for Bruce to continue.
“What were you doing all alone? Where is your Nanny?”
“Um…” Began Tim hesitantly. “I don’t have a nanny. The housekeeper usually checks up on me every few days.” Tim knew now that this would bring up major red flags, but he would have acted this way when he was actually ten before he was aware of the extent of the difference between his childhood and a normal childhood was.
Bruce took what seemed to be a calming breath. “That’s too long for a child to be left alone Tim.”
Tim thought about how he would have acted when he was ten. He peered confusedly at Bruce and said, “I am perfectly fine taking care of myself.” And, in a voice that implied a duh, “I’m ten years old.”
“That may be the case, but that doesn’t mean you should have to take care of yourself. Even I have Alfred to take care of me.”
Tim frowned thoughtfully. Ha, that was true. He doubted Bruce could function without Alfred. It just wasn’t the same because Bruce was Bruce, but Tim was just Tim. People rarely took care of Tim unless they were getting something out of it, like Bruce taking care of Tim so that he could be a good Robin.
“What would you feel about staying with us until your parents come home?”
Tim looked up, shocked. Last time Bruce didn’t care about sending him home. He had been sent home for to an empty and cold house for two whole years. It had even taken Bruce six months to find out that he was living completely alone after his parents died despite being the greatest detective out there. And now he was offering a place to Tim after only one meeting? It didn’t make sense. Tim did not compute.
He realized that Bruce was waiting for an answer. “Um…sure. That sounds nice.”
Bruce gave another gentle smile, one of his genuine Bruce smiles that were so rare after Jason’s death. “Excellent. We can grab your clothes from next door tomorrow. I’ll also introduce you to my son who’s just two years older than you.”
Tim smiled shyly back. His plans were moving forward. Now he just needed to patch Bruce and Dick’s relationship and save Damian all the while keeping the greatest detective around from finding out that Tim knew basically everything about him. What could go wrong?