Chapter Text
Timothy Jackson Drake died from a car accident at the tender age of 15 after taking his parents Porsche out for a joy ride while they were abroad.
Or at least, that's what the news reported.
In reality Tim Drake died cold and alone.
Bleeding out on the floor of a one of the only places where he felt safe.
Murdered by a man he had once looked up to.
He would much rather have gone out in a reckless blaze of glory like the media seemed to think.
Really anything would have been better than being killed by a man wearing tights and an obviously home-made Robin costume.
Spewing some nonsense about how he was going to "clip another bird's wings to teach Batman a lesson."
Some lesson that was.
Killing the kid who kept your dad and legacy alive all for some C rate revenge scheme.
What a pathetic death.
And the best part was how just a couple of weeks later; Bruce forgave Jason and welcomed him back into the family with open arms.
It's funny.
How easily people forget about you.
He's been haunting the manor for years now.
Ever since Jason killed him.
Tim isn't sure why he's attached to the manor rather than the Tower where he had died, or even his own house where he had grown up.
But instead, he's been trapped inside the walls of another family.
Watching as he death his covered up as a rich kid asking for trouble.
Watching as Jason rejoins the Bats, despite having murdered him in cold blood.
Watching as a silent girl, a broken boy, and a bright signal join the 'ragtag' group of vigilantes.
Watching as they become a family.
Watching as they never even mention the third Robin who was killed by one of their own.
Watching as he doesn't even get so much as a memorial case.
Watching as pictures of all of these other people begin to fill the halls of Wayne Manor.
Watching…
Watching…
Watching…
…
In some folklore, ghosts have an object that they're attached to.
Something important to them in their past life that keeps them tethered to the mortal plane.
If only such a thing existed, then maybe he wouldn't have to suffer so much.
Even having his item be thrown away and ending up stuck in a landfill as a result would be less painful than this.
Secret was never like that though.
But then again, she was also a bit more corporeal.
And she didn't age.
Meanwhile no one could see Tim but himself, and when he did see himself in a mirror or some kind of reflective surface, he looked his age.
He should be almost nineteen now, and the image staring back at him showed that.
Tim Drake, technically eighteen despite his life ending at the ripe old age of fifteen.
In fact, it was almost the anniversary of his death.
Three years of desperately trying to find out why he was still there and how to either come back or move on.
Three years of dead ends and dwindling hope.
Three years of attempting every possible kind of communication with the outside world, only to be denied.
Only to return to watching.
It's ironic.
In a way.
After all, Tim spent most of his life watching the bats.
Following behind them on silent feet with a camera bag in hand.
Capturing all of the moments where Robin was magic, and Batman was a father.
Maybe others would have taken action photos as the vigilante duo were fighting the rogue of week, but Tim preferred the more domestic scenes.
The ones with Robin hiding under Batman's cape, or the two eating takeout on a rooftop.
Now those photos were likely collecting dust under some floorboard back in Drake Manor.
A shrine to family he naively longed for and never got to have.
…
When Jason died, it was explosive.
The Bat made sure that all of the criminals in Gotham would suffer as his son had.
Even if they were just petty thieves.
He was more violent.
More volatile.
Lashing out at the world for taking his son.
While simultaneously hoping that the world would retaliate.
That he would be able to reunite with Jason in the afterlife.
At the time, Tim couldn't stand to see his hero like that.
Slowly destroying himself over the death of his son.
In that moment he had realized that Bruce needed something to protect.
Something to keep him from self-destructing.
Batman needed a Robin.
But Dick wouldn't go back and even when he did try, it didn't end well.
So, Tim took it on himself to wear the red, green, and yellow.
To become the light to Batman's darkness and save the man from himself.
He often regrets that decision now.
Thinks that he should have just let the man destroy himself.
Or even just sent all of his proof of the man's identity to Gotham PD and let Gordon sort it out himself.
At least then he would still be alive.
Although Tim never would have met his team if he hadn't become Robin.
The only people who ever truly cared about him.
Well…
That's not exactly true.
He knows that his civilian friends, Callie and Ives, both cared about him.
Read in the paper about how Ives didn't believe he would die like that.
How he said that Tim may have been rich, but he wasn't reckless.
If only he knew the half of it…
He wonders where all of his friends are now.
Probably in college.
Studying.
Meeting new people.
Going to events, to parties.
Taking up odd jobs on the side to pay everything off.
Maybe even studying abroad.
Tim has no idea if any of his friends from high school are even in Gotham anymore.
But mostly, he wonders how his team is doing.
The papers laying around told the sparse details of both Impulse and Superboy's subsequent deaths and resurrections not too long ago.
If only he could use the Batcomputer.
While he's able to look at the files people have pulled up on the Batcomputer, he isn't able to search anything himself.
And the Bats typically only search for Gotham related crimes on the computer.
His team has likely forgotten about him too.
It's not like he was the most popular member after all.
Not with all of the rules that Batman imposed on him.
Besides, none of them have even come to visit the manor since he's died.
…
Not until today that is.