Chapter Text
For as long as Tim could remember, there was Tim, and there was Timothy Drake. Timothy was the kid that his parents wanted — never a bother, always quiet and respectful around the house, gets perfect grades without any effort, always knows how to behave at a gala. Timothy raises his hand whenever his teachers ask a question. Timothy is carefully building his resume so that he can go to Harvard, Princeton, or MIT. Timothy wins awards so that his parents can brag about him to their friends. And if Timothy were good enough, Mom would smile at him or nod approving at him, and Dad would pat him on the back and offer to take him out for some father-son bonding time. (They usually leave before Dad ever got around to it, but Tim appreciates the thought nonetheless.)
And then there’s Tim. Tim is the one who skulks around the giant mansion when his parents aren’t around and decamps in the second family room because it’s closest to the kitchen. Tim is the one who scrapes his knees skateboarding, who hates putting anything away, who would prefer to survive on nothing but bananas and Zesti. Tim is the one who’s been following Batman and Robin around the rooftops of Gotham because he can’t sleep at night. Tim doesn’t really care about going to college, and honestly would rather spend his spare time speed-running video games and hacking into the GCPD to solve their cold cases.
Tim’s parents would hate Tim, so Tim makes sure that he’s only Timothy when they’re around. Tim feels a little guilty, sometimes, for how much he privately detests being Timothy. After all, it’s clear that Timothy is the one that everyone else wants — his parents, his teachers, all the adults at the galas. Timothy is the one with the awards and the bright future, so there’s probably something wrong with Tim, that he doesn’t want to be Timothy all the time.
But his parents aren’t around to yell at Tim about it, so for as long as he could remember, it was Tim and Timothy. Timothy for school and when his parents are home, and Tim the rest of the time.
And then the bus schedule changes the summer that Tim turns ten.
That year, the Gotham Transit Authority does an audit and decides that the ridership for their Gotham-Bristol bus line is too low to justify the existing expenditures, and cuts the service hours to run from 6am to 9pm, every half hour. Very few Bristol residents notice, since the bus still allows their housekeepers and maids to come in during the day, and they use personal drivers for evening events in the Diamond District anyway.
Tim notices. Whereas he used to take the 9pm bus into Gotham and return on the 1am one, now he either has to spend the night sleeping behind a rooftop air conditioning unit or not go out at all. And while sleeping on the rooftops works decently for the summer, it’s going to be impossible to manage once school starts.
Thankfully, when Tim’s birthday rolls around mid-July, Tim’s parents decide that turning ten means that Tim is old enough to learn basic money management, and put him in charge of the household expenditures. Part of the birthday package that Tim receives in the mail is a credit card and instructions for how to arrange the monthly landscaping, housekeeping, and food delivery services and a list of the numbers to call for the handyman, the plumber, and the electrician in case of household emergencies.
Ever the dutiful son, Tim draws up some spreadsheets to track the household expenditures and even figures out how to make pie charts. It’s there that he makes the delightful discovery that if he cancels the housekeeping and food deliveries, and cut the landscaping service in half, the cost savings would allow him to rent a small studio apartment on the edge of Burnley. Not only would Tim be closer to all of the Batman and Robin action, it has the added bonus of a much shorter commute to school — 20 minutes by skateboard instead of an hour by bus.
Tim briefly contemplates trying to make a powerpoint presentation to convince his parents of this, but then decides it’s probably better to ask for forgiveness than permission, especially since his parents would probably frown at the possibility of Timothy Drake being seen that close to Crime Alley. Why bother his parents when he can learn how to create some fake IDs and hack the DMV? And as long as he keeps an eye on his parents' flights, he can just get the Manor ready in the days before his parents return. Janet Drake has always emphasized the importance of being an enterprising go-getter, and that’s what Tim’s trying to do. Tim does create a presentation just in case his parents notice the changes in the monthly expenditure report, but they don’t mention anything in their next two phone calls.
Thus, in the first week of September, Alvin Draper moves into apartment 6C on the corner of Brandt and Third.
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Tim loves being Alvin, because Alvin doesn’t have to worry about being perfect the way Timothy does, and Alvin isn’t stuck on his own in a giant manor like Tim is.
Alvin Draper materializes in the alleyway behind Mr. Chang’s restaurant when Timothy stows his stiff Gotham Academy blazer and polished oxfords in his backpack, and swaps in for a large faded hoodie, comfy sneakers, and a pair of somewhat battered glasses. (If it works for Superman, it’d work for Tim, right?)
Then it’s Alvin who skateboards home to the studio apartment that he shares with his non-existent uncle. Unlike the large empty roads and forbidding gates back in Bristol, Alvin’s neighborhood is full of *people*. Alvin generally drops by the corner store to chat with Janice and grab some Zesti and snacks. Alvin then helps Mrs. Petryshka carry her groceries up to the fourth floor and hears about the latest gossip. Alvin even helps watch little Jose from #6B because Ms. Marisol’s work schedule leaves an awkward gap between when she has to leave for work and when her husband gets home. In exchange, Ms. Marisol has offered to help if Alvin needed an adult for something whenever Alvin’s uncle isn’t around.
Alvin has friends and neighbors and can still spend his time hacking and skateboarding and running after Batman and Robin on the rooftops. And to think: none of this would have been possible without the unholy combination of the Gotham Transit Authority, the Drake credit card, and aggressive spreadsheeting.
And then Robin dies a few months before Tim turns 12.
It’s bad enough that Batman starts terrorizing the city, beating petty thieves within an inch of their lives. But Batman’s violent streak is leaving *Tim’s* neighborhood in shambles. Mrs. Petryshka’s son manages to get away with “only” a broken leg and a broken arm, but Two Face doesn’t offer health insurance. Half of his neighbors are afraid to go out at night, and Janice at the bodega says that they’re losing business. After all, you can pack as many rebreathers as you want against Scarecrow’s fear gas, but you don’t know when Batman is going to show up and just fuck up your life.
Batman needs to be stopped. At the very least, Batman needs a Robin.
And Tim does have some blackmail on Batman.
But that would mean Batman would know about Timothy Drake: his family, his school record, his hobbies. Batman might find out about his parents’ long absences, or worse, Alvin’s apartment.
For a month, Tim tries to find alternatives. He leaves grief counseling pamphlets on rooftops. He leaves concerned notes on Commissioner Gordon’s computer. He writes letters to the Justice League. He hunts down Dick Grayson.
None of it work.
A week after Dick Grayson shuts his door in Tim’s face, Tim takes the number 9 bus to Bristol after school, walks past the empty and dark Drake Manor, and knocks on the door to Wayne Manor.
Turns out, Tim needn’t have worried. Like his parents, Batman was only interested in Timothy Drake: polite, eager to please, respectful and never a bother. That’s fine. Tim can give Batman the illusion of Timothy Drake. He’ll just think of this as an after-school internship opportunity.
Tim keeps a straight face and lies out of his teeth about his parents and extracurriculars, inventing a nanny and a Diamond District penthouse as a reason why he’d prefer to meet with Bruce in Gotham. He also lets his Bristol accent speak for itself.
Tim leaves Wayne Manor with a Bat communicator and a promise to return on Saturday for basic training and suit fitting.
So now, between being Timothy Drake at school, Alvin at home, and soaring as Robin at night, there’s no need to be little Tim Drake, stuck alone in a big empty manor in Bristol.
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Timothy Drake at school:
Tiny!Alvin skateboarding home:
