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Not many people knew this about Tim, but he had a thing for sunrises. There was something special about staying up late enough to see the pale morning sun break through the darkness eternally encasing Gotham, rays of hope reaching out over the city. Gotham could use a little bit of hope. Tim too.
He liked dawn. It was something truly powerful to be out and about with nothing but his camera for company, the device capturing one perfect streak of light catching on a broken window or a forgotten beer bottle or one lost shoe after the other. Tim liked capturing the afterthoughts of human emotion.
Not the light. Not the sparkle and the fame and the moment of perfection. No, Tim was in love with the moments that followed – or the breaths of air that happened before a wonder took place. That’s why sunrise was so important. It was the dawn of a new day, when nothing had happened yet – and at the same time it was a testament to all the people who had survived and changed Gotham during the night. Tim had a collection of photos simply depicting new graffities that had appeared while everyone else was asleep. He liked to think that he was the first person – next to the artist, of course – who ever saw them, documenting their existence in the light of a new day.
In another life, Tim would have become an artist.
In this life, Tim was Robin. A hero. A bird. A boy trying to fix the world.
It had gotten harder to take these pictures ever since Tim had taken up the mantle. Jason Todd had left a pretty big shadow for Tim to step into – and Bruce Wayne cut a daunting figure, draped in black. Tim genuinely liked the man, something he hadn’t expected when he hunted down Batman to save Gotham. But… Tim had recognized Bruce’s loneliness as his own during long nights spent down at the Cave and somewhere down the line he had started reaching out.
They were Batman and Robin now. On some evenings, when patrol ran late, and Tim stayed at Wayne Manor… they were even Bruce and Tim. Those were the nights Tim liked best.
And yet… sometimes Tim sneaked out, not to return to his own empty house and forgotten room, but to see the sun rise above Gotham like a burning savior. He would catch one of the early buses into the city center, climb up the old brimstone houses down forty-fifth street and watch as Gotham changed in a matter of minutes.
Rats would disappear behind dumpsters and nurses would return from their shifts, tired and worn out, and yet smiling when they saw the first few signs of the early morning sun. Sneakers stepping on broken glass would turn to dress shoes carefully avoiding the remains of a misshapen night, and the smell of smoke would disperse until the exhaust of a thousand cars replaced it.
Tim was completely and utterly unimportant in the face of so many lives, so many people doing their best to survive. He liked that feeling. It was loneliness, but a different flavor than the despair that overwhelmed him after a long day at school which ended not in a hug from his mom but with his return to an empty Drake Estate.
Out here, breathing in the stink of the big city, he felt lonesome, not lonely. Tim had learned once what the difference was, but he couldn’t remember it right now. He just knew it felt right. He was lonesome the way a noble knight might be lonesome… or how Bruce Wayne often was.
Bruce was lonesome when he stood on top of the grand staircase in Wayne Manor, watching over his gala guests. He was lonesome when he perched on top of a gargoyle, protecting Gotham from the shadows. He was lonesome, when he made himself appear taller in the face of foes, so they would focus on him and not on Tim.
Tim liked that attentive Bruce Wayne even better than the lonely version he encountered down in the Cave late at night, glazed eyes staring at the memorial of a lost son. Whenever Tim caught Bruce being especially desolate, it reminded him of his own pain – and sometimes that made it hard to be around Bruce. Even if it was one of the good nights. Even if it was one of those nights Tim was allowed to spend at Wayne Manor.
So… he sneaked out.
It took a lot of practice, but Tim was Robin and small and flexible and clever. So far, he had managed to reach the city center every time, no Batman or Alfred hot on his heels. They were probably asleep. No one sane should be awake at 5am, just so they could watch the sun push through the heavy clouds eternally covering the Gotham sky.
Tim sat down on the edge of the tallest apartment building on forty-fifth street, the world silent underneath him in a way it only was during the last moments of the night. He was pondering. That’s what his mom had said his dad was doing the last time he locked himself in his office for two days straight. “Darling, your father is pondering a business deal. Don’t annoy him with your ceaseless questions.”
Well, Tim could ponder as well, and he thought this was the best place to do it.
There were many things to wonder about, Tim knew that much, but he wasn’t yet quite sure what he should ponder about. Maybe the weather? But, no, that was a small talk topic that didn’t even work on Bruce when he was in a quiet mood. Tim could…
To be completely honest, Tim knew quite a few things he could ponder about, but it hurt to think about them. He could think about the anxiety crawling up his spine whenever Alfred offered him lunch and implied Tim could return to the Drake Estate. He could think about the pain he’d felt when a fever sick Bruce called him Jason by accident. He could think about the uncomfortable and (mostly) unreturned affection he held for Bruce Wayne and his scary butler Alfred.
Tim was kind of bad at facing his own emotions, so he would rather be lonesome while facing the waking city than loved, lonely, loathsome .
He wasn’t even sure what had triggered his need to get away tonight. Bruce and he had been pretty kickass while they were on patrol. Bruce had ruffled his hair on the way back and told him he’d done a good job. It felt great. Amazing. Warm. Mind-blowing.
Tim should be overjoyed.
But instead, he was here. Watching. An outsider always looking in.
He should be asleep in the room Bruce had so generously offered to him, and he should dream of adventures and monsters and the math test he had tomorrow… but instead he let the heels of his feet rest against the brittle stone of a Gotham apartment building, the cold of the slowly dispersing night leaching heat from his body.
He was dressed in his favorite pair of PJs with a woolen coat covering most of his body to protect him from the cold night air. He was still wearing Robin’s boots, but that had been an act of simple necessity. His own sneakers weren’t sturdy enough to climb up buildings with.
He had done so in the past – of course – but now that he knew the comforts of a fitting pair of boots, it was hard to force himself to go back to the danger a slippery pair of sneakers could encompass.
No one was currently moving through the streets at his feet, and Tim’s fingers itched for the skateboard stored in one of the closets at home. Well, at the Drake Estate. It hadn’t felt like home in ages. Ever since he became Robin he had stopped skateboarding so much. At first, the thrill of fighting criminals each night had made the skateboard pale in comparison… But now? With his new Robin skills Tim should be amazing at skateboarding. There were so many tricks and flips he should now master in a matter of minutes…
Tim imagined himself skateboarding down the street, flipping over the park bench and using one of the cars to do a Front Foot Impossible. It was a relaxing thought – exciting and yet not big enough to raise his pulse. He could feel himself smiling, small as that smile might be.
It was easier to contemplate skateboarding than it was to think about the warmth of Bruce’s hand as it rested on the top of his head. Tim had wanted to lean into the touch. He had wanted to melt into the point of contact – maybe even hug Bruce.
But before Tim had had a chance to even think about it, Bruce had removed his hand, returning it to its proper position on the wheel of the Batmobile.
And ever since then… Tim’s thoughts had been spinning out of control. He felt lonely in the face of Bruce’s retreating back, and he felt loved when he remembered how soothing Bruce’s words had been.
Tim had parents. He shouldn’t… he shouldn’t like Bruce this much. And Alfred, as intimidating as he might be. Tim had a mom and a dad, and sometimes, when they remembered him, they were the best parents in the entire world.
And on the other three hundred days a year? Tim wanted to sleep in his room at Wayne Manor, eat breakfast in the kitchen together with Alfred, join Bruce for lunch and ask him for help with his homework. He wanted to be a part of Bruce’s life – not just as Robin, but as Tim .
It was a horrible realization to come to at 5:30am in the morning, the first early risers leaving their houses. What was he supposed to do with this? Bruce was fast asleep back at ho— the Manor, but here Tim was, sitting on a roof miles and miles away, shame already growing in his gut. He’d only wanted to enjoy the sunrise, but instead the lonesomeness of an early morning had betrayed him. It had forced him to think.
Tim let his fingers wander over the rough surface of the ledge, the textures of the stone anchoring him in the present. It was harder to focus on the anxiety building in the back of his head when something poked his fingertips and made him shiver.
This changed nothing. He would just- he would just show up for patrol tomorrow night as if nothing had happened. And… maybe Tim would try to keep his distance for a bit. Just until this weird craving for belonging had faded. Just until Tim once again had the feeling that he was the one in control.
Yeah.
That sounded like a plan. He could do it. He could-
Silent feet touched down on the gravel covered roof behind him. Damn it. Tim didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Bruce. Of course it was Bruce. Why had Tim even toyed with the possibility that his escape from Wayne Manor had gone unnoticed? Bruce Wayne was Batman. Of course he’d noticed.
Tim’s shoulders slumped in defeat before Bruce even got a chance to reprimand him for his stupidity. He waited for harsh words and ugly truths, but nothing came. After an uncomfortable amount of silence, Tim turned around only to see Bruce sit down on the ledge a few feet away from him. The man was dressed in a pair of black and yellow PJs, and sensible hiking boots. A bright red scarf was slung around his neck, and the tip of his nose was already so pink, Tim feared it was trying to match the color of his scarf.
It was a ridiculous sight.
Tim couldn’t help himself – he laughed, a short burst of joy escaping his tired chest.
“What are you doing here?” Bruce asked, and Tim tried his best not to let his surprise show. In his mind, Bruce had already figured it all out… but, no, that made no sense. Bruce was a great detective, but he wasn’t a mind reader. At least Tim didn’t think he was.
“I like- I like watching the sunrise. This roof is the best one for taking good pictures of it during the winter and spring. And… I come here to think.”
It was a sudden burst of honesty, but something told Tim that Bruce would understand. Bruce had this way about him that made Tim feel safe – that made him feel as if he had a connection with this brooding giant of a man.
On some fundamental level, Tim simply understood Bruce. And Bruce understood him.
“Ah, I am more of a sunset kind of man, I have to say.”
Tim looked at Bruce again, a small smile ghosting over chapped lips.
“I like the moments before we leave for patrol and the world changes completely around us. And I love the days where I am out in the city and I get to watch the sky turn red, until darkness washes all complexity away… leaving only me and the mission in its wake,” Bruce continued.
“That sounds… frightening.”
“Maybe it is… but there is something about the fear and the danger… it also feels like possibility. Life is simpler in the darkness – and yet it is also a space in which everything is possible.”
“Hm.” Tim contemplated Bruce’s answer, contemplated how warm it made him feel to sit next to Bruce on this rooftop as they discussed the truths of being a vigilante. He wanted this. He belonged here.
“What were you thinking about today? Just the sunrise or… anything else?”
It was almost adorable how carefully Bruce asked this question – only Bruce Wayne was Batman and Batman wasn’t adorable. But it came close. The red scarf and nose definitely helped.
“At first I was trying to ponder about the truths of life, but I think… I think mostly I was thinking about Robin. About being Robin.”
“And… do you regret it? Do you want to stop?”
Bruce’s eyes told him that Tim could say whatever he wanted, and it would be okay. There was no wrong answer, they seemed to scream, and for once… Tim actually believed them. The trust in Bruce’s face was louder than his anxiety.
“No. I think I want to be Robin forever. Or at least-“, the words died in his throat, something hot and heavy settling on his chest. He had to say it. But what if- No. He had to say it. He was Robin. He was Tim Drake. He would- He had forced Bruce into giving him the mantle in the first place, he was strong enough and brave enough to say…
“Or at least, I want to stay in your life forever. Even if you no longer need a Robin. Even if you find a better- a better partner, I just- I want to- to stay at Wayne Manor. I want to- to stay in your life.”
For a long moment Bruce was silent, and Tim feared that he had said the wrong thing. That he had broken something fragile – something he would never be able to fix. And then… Bruce reached over the gap between them, until his arm rested on Tim’s shoulders. Tim followed Bruce’s movements easily and before he knew it, Bruce was hugging him, the smell of his aftershave sharp in Tim’s nose after the stink of Gotham City.
“You can stay. I want you to stay, Tim. I know- I know I’m not the best with words, but… you can stay.”
“Really?”
“Well, you do already have a room. It’s just… you have parents, Tim. I didn’t want to interfere or- or overstep or—”
Tim could physically feel Bruce falter in his decision – but he was so close, he wouldn’t lose. Not now. Not ever. Tim would- he was quick to speak, his voice muffled by the fabric of Bruce’s PJs: “And I love them. I do. But- but they are away a lot. And I like- I like staying at your place. And I enjoy having breakfast with Alfred. And- and I like asking you for help or training with you or- or telling you about the newest Gotham gossip.”
Now it was Bruce, who was laughing, the vibrations moving through Tim’s entire body like a warm blanket. “I’d like that. And I think… I think Alfred would enjoy some company as well.”
“Yes. He gets lonely if he only has the bats to talk to.”
“Hm.”
They were silent, until not even Bruce’s body heat could protect him from the freezing cold of a stone building leaching the heat from his butt. Tim started to fidget in an attempt to stay warm, but, of course, Bruce noticed.
“Cold? We should head back. Alfred is probably already worried sick.”
“We don’t-“, another shiver raced down his spine, and not even Tim could play that off, “Okay. Yeah. Let’s go home. Um- I mean… let’s head back to Wayne Manor.”
A blush was crawling up his cheeks, but Tim hoped the redness from the cold would hide it. Wayne Manor wasn’t home. At least not yet. But maybe… maybe someday it could be.
“Let’s do that…”. With a sigh Bruce stood up, pulling Tim up with him as he did so. They were standing on the edge of a building, seventy feet up in the air, but Tim wasn’t afraid. He wouldn’t fall – and even if he did, Tim knew with absolute certainty that Bruce would catch him.
They were Batman and Robin, after all.
One day soon they might even be Bruce and Tim.
“Do you think Alfred will make us some hot cocoa when we get back?” Tim couldn’t help but ask.
“Oh, sure. Alfred has a feeling for situations like this. He probably already baked scones in the hour I was gone.”
“Cool. That sounds good.”
“Come on, sport!”
Tim followed Bruce (for once it wasn’t Robin flying in the shadow of Batman) just as the first tendrils of dusk broke through the clouds.
A sign of hope.
The beginning of a new day.