Chapter Text
His dad is dead.
Tim isn’t sure how long he’s been frozen halfway through his front entrance. But it doesn’t matter because his dad is lying motionless on the floor of the foyer, his blood pooling around him. Moonlight streams through the open door, casting an eerie glow into the room, and his dad looks almost like a sleeping ghost. The light bounces off the bent, metal object impaled in his chest and Tim stares at it. A small voice at the back of Tim’s head, that hasn't turned off Robin yet, tells him it’s the work of Captain Boomerang, but that’s overshadowed by the loud ringing in his ears.
Tim knows he should do something. Investigate the crime scene, calculate the time of death, call Bruce or Dick or somebody to handle this who isn't Tim.
No. Batman was busy handling a crisis in the Justice League and Dick had his own case with the Outsiders. Tim can't expect them to drop everything just because he asked them to.
Tim was Robin. He could do this. He'll figure it out.
Tim inhales. There is no room for Tim Drake right now, Robin has work to do. He exhales and takes a shaky step into his house. He closes the door behind him and drops his gear from patrol at his feet. Then approaches his father's dead body.
Tim can already feel his resolve crumbling as he kneels by his dad.
There was a point in time, when his dad was still comatose, that Tim had accepted the very likely reality that his dad would never wake up and they'd have to pull the plug.
But that was before everything. Before his dad woke up against all odds. Before he chose to spend time with Tim, to care about what he did and his dreams and aspirations like a dad would. Before his dad had found out he was Robin. Before his dad had accepted him for it. Before his dad had ever told Tim he was proud of him.
Tim can't do this. They were finally in a good place. He isn't ready to just let it all go.
Tim remembers when his mom died. He had spent the week feeling cold and numb. He barely spoke, preferring to process the change in the comfort of his mind. This is nothing like that. This is like being consumed alive in a blazing furnace. Tim wants to scream and wail and he wants someone to come make it okay again.
He's crying, he realizes, as dark splotches begin appearing on his dad's shirt. Tim stares at them, watching the tears soak into the cloth. His hands latch onto his father's.
Tim can do this. He has to. He's been on his own before, he can do it again.
It hits him. He's truly alone now. Both his parents are gone. He is an orphan in every sense now.
His stomach twists and his heart squeezes the way they did every time he watched his parents leave for a dig. Except this time, they've finally abandoned Tim for good.
Tim's not sure how long he stays sat by his dad, squeezing his hand and crying into his chest. At some point, he passes out, curled into his father's side.
He's woken up sometime later by a shrill scream. Tim cracks an eye open and is greeted with the sight of Dana frozen in the doorway staring at the scene with a horrified expression, much like Tim had last night.
Her eyes are blown wide and her skin is as pale as a sheet. She's in shock, he realizes. Tim isn't sure if she's even breathing and thought is enough to finally spur him into action as his Robin training kicks in.
He gets up, trying to ignore the feeling of his father's blood matting his clothes and hair.
He gently guides Dana until she's lying down on the couch. This close, he can tell that she is in fact breathing but it's shallow and quiet. Tim props her feet up with a couple of pillows then runs upstairs to grab the weighted blanket Dick had given to him last Christmas. After he's draped it across her body, Tim gets to work.
He washes himself off and changes his clothes. Then Tim grabs a camera and takes a handful of pictures of the crime scene. He's self-aware enough to know that he won't be able to do any investigative work right now, but he won’t be able to let this go later.
Once he's satisfied with what he has, he carefully removes the boomerang from his Dad's chest and tries not to cry. He places the weapon in a spare ziplock and cleans the floor. Tim's not sure where to move his dad's body and he's not quite ready to deal with even thinking about that so Tim just leaves him where he is.
Tim goes back to check on Dana, but she seems exactly the same and entirely unresponsive. Tim is not equipped to handle this. He needs help.
Tim ends up calling one of Dana’s friends. He tells her the truth, or most of it at least. His dad's dead, Dana went into shock at the news, she needs help.
“Oh honey, that sounds horrible. I'll get her somewhere safe, don't you worry. But who's going to be looking after you kiddo?” says Annie or Amy or something like that Tim's not sure.
He's half tempted to tell her that he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but he realizes that probably wouldn't go over well.
So, Tim thinks about it. Bruce would adopt him. It's the most convenient option and being sent into the foster system would make being Robin a big hassle. But Tim isn't really Bruce's son, not like Dick or Jason. He knows that Bruce would adopt him anyway but Tim can't stand the idea of tarnishing Jason's memory and making a mockery of the relationship he had with Bruce. The entire reason Bruce took Tim on as Robin is because he was self-sufficient. He didn't need Bruce to be his dad then and he doesn't need Bruce to be his dad now.
Maybe he wants Bruce to see Tim as another son but that's wishful thinking and he can't take advantage of Bruce's kindness like that.
It's okay though, because this wasn't the first time Tim had to consider this situation and he had a contingency in place.
“My uncle, Eddie." He tells Dana's friend. “He's going to come stay with me."
“Sounds good kiddo, I'll be there in 30 to pick up Dana. She'll be in good hands. Don't you worry."
Tim thanks her, ends the call, and moves his dad's body out of sight.
Edward Drake. 24 years old, Jack Drake's estranged younger half-brother, and entirely fictional.
Back when his dad was in a coma, Tim had come up with an elaborate contingency plan in case his father never woke up. He created a fictional uncle who could supposedly take him in in the event of his dad's death. Tim had gone to great lengths to make Eddie seem real. He fabricated a credit card history, detailed various trips around the world to explain Eddie’s absence, and even backdated correspondence between Eddie and his parents. It was a meticulous process, one that Tim had perhaps gotten a little too invested in at times.
As time passed, Tim had continued to add to the illusion. He sent postcards and messages to himself from "Uncle Eddie," ensuring that it wouldn’t seem suspicious if Eddie suddenly appeared in his life if necessary. After his dad woke up from his coma, Tim kept up the charade, adding fake replies from Jack to the mix. It’s been a delicate balance, maintaining the facade without raising any red flags.
At some point it had become less about a contingency in case his dad died and more of a fun side project for Tim. At the end of the day, it was for a worst-case scenario that is now coming to pass…
He had only brought up Eddie to appease Dana’s friend, but he really is an orphan now. It would be the only way to prevent Bruce from acting out of obligation.
By the time Dana’s friend shows up, Tim’s managed to move his dad’s body out of sight and make himself look like less of a mess. She tells him that she’s moving Dana to a respected psychiatric institution in Bludhaven and Tim makes a mental reminder to vet the place as soon as he gets the time. The second her car pulls out of the driveway, Tim finally puts the Uncle Ed contingency into action.
He grabs his phone and dials the number he set up for Eddie. It rings twice before going to voicemail. He leaves a message, attempting to keep his voice steady. It’s only partially successful. “Uncle Eddie, it’s Tim. Dad’s… dead. And Dana… she’s not…. She isn't coping well. I need you to come to Gotham. Please call me back as soon as you can.”
He hangs up and sits down at the table where he had left his laptop before patrol yesterday, his mind racing. He has to make sure everything is in place. He logs into the email account he created for Eddie and sends a message to himself, pretending to be Eddie. “Tim, I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Hang in there.”
Next, he calls the coroner’s office, using a voice modulator. “This is Edward Drake. My brother, Jack Drake, has passed away. I’ll be handling the arrangements. Please contact me at this number for any further information.”
Tim knows he’s walking a tightrope, but he has no choice. He can’t let anyone see through the facade. He has to be strong, for his father’s sake and his own.
He spends the next few hours making arrangements, ensuring that everything appears legitimate. He contacts the funeral home, arranges for the body to be taken care of, and even speaks to the family lawyer, all while maintaining the guise of Eddie.
Once that’s done Tim walks up to his room and sits at his desk, opening the drawer with a false bottom where he keeps the documents for “Uncle Eddie” as well as some of his other contingencies. Jack Drake’s supposedly estranged brother is a figment of Tim’s imagination, but it’s time to ensure that he is as real as possible. Tim cracks his knuckles and gets to work.
He spends hours hunched over his desktop making sure to fill in any possible hole he could find in Eddie’s history. If some tears managed to escape and trail their way down his cheeks, no they didn’t. Tim doesn’t have time to be upset, he has work to do.
You’re not letting yourself grieve , says a gentle voice in the back of his mind. It sounds suspiciously like Dick. It doesn’t matter. Tim already tried grieving earlier. All it did was leave him cuddling a dead body in a puddle of blood. This is definitely much better.
By Monday morning, he’s ready. He has all the documents he needs, meticulously prepared and organized. He’s beefed up the history enough to pass even Bruce and Barbara’s prying eyes. All he needs now is Eddie himself.
Tim wipes his tears and stands up, determination hardening his resolve. He will get through this. He has to. For his father, for himself, and for the family he has chosen to protect.
He looks around the study one last time, taking in the memories that fill the room. Then, with a deep breath, he walks out, closing the door behind him. Uncle Eddie is about to make his grand entrance into Gotham, and Tim is going to make sure everything goes exactly according to plan.
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Tim is aware that maybe inviting someone from Gotham’s unemployed population to live with him might be one of his more reckless ideas, but it’s okay because he’s Robin, and he can protect himself.
You weren’t able to protect Dad, says an errant voice. He ignores it. There’s no time to dwell on that now. Tim needs to get this set up before Dick and Bruce get back to Gotham.
So, he ventures out to Crime Alley in the afternoon, keeping an eye out for someone who could pass as Edward Drake.
Why Crime Alley? It's the only place guaranteed to have people who won't ask any unnecessary questions as long as they're promised enough money.
The first guy he finds is a tall, sinewy man hunched over in the alley. At first, Tim thinks he's hurt and moves to help him. Then he spots the syringe. Definitely not.
The next guy he runs into is far too drug-addled as well, and the two after that are definitely creeps. Time refuses to let any of them into his home.
After about three hours of walking around Crime Alley, the sun is setting, and Tim is about ready to call it a day. On his way out, he spots a tall, dark-haired, broad-shouldered man in a leather jacket in the midst of an impassioned rant to the owner of a food cart. A rush of warmth in Tim's gut tells him that this is the guy.
There’s a strange, white streak in the man’s bangs, and it doesn’t seem dyed, but that’s okay. Tim can just fake medical records for poliosis circumscripta if needed.
He’s too far away to hear what the man is saying, but from the wide eyes and the grand hand gestures he’s making, if the guy isn’t a theater kid at heart, Tim would eat his left foot. Although, Tim’s been told he has a habit of shoving his foot in his mouth pretty regularly, so maybe that metaphor doesn’t hold much weight.
Tim shakes his head, focusing back on the task at hand. He approaches the man cautiously and gingerly taps his shoulder. “Excuse me,” Tim says, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible. “I was wondering if you were interested in an acting job.”
The man’s impassioned rant about the underappreciation of Shakespearean comedies is abruptly cut short as he turns to see Tim standing there. His teal eyes blink in surprise, and his jaw falls open as he gapes at Tim.
Tim ignores his reaction. There are all sorts of weird people in Gotham, and it’s probably a reasonable one to have when confronted by a well-dressed teenager in Crime Alley offering a job. There’s something strangely familiar about the man, but he’s built like every other muscled guy in the city, so it’s likely Tim’s passed by him before, either during the day or as Robin. He presses on. “I was wondering if you were interested in an acting job,” he repeats, his voice steady and earnest. “We can discuss the details over some burgers. My treat.”
The man’s mouth opens and closes a few times, as if he’s trying to form words but can’t quite manage it. He makes some kind of aborted motion with his head. Tim takes it as a yes.
“Great! Follow me,” Tim says, a small smile playing on his lips. He turns and begins walking, glancing back to make sure the man is following. The man, still in a daze, falls into step behind him.