Chapter Text
It had been four days since Timothy Drake had vanished.
Four days of the coffee pot left half full on the counter, cold with disuse. Four days of Bruce forcing the computer to run the same failed facial recognition tests. Dick's optimism was cracking at the edges, and the hall echoed with the impact of Jason's knuckles against the gym’s heavy punching bag.
Alfred stood by the window, watching the gate, a vigil he had begun to take on every night. The driveway stretched out, long and empty.
Until it wasn't.
Alfred’s stare fixed on the small figure making its way towards the manor.
"Master Bruce." He pressed a hand to his comm, voice steady despite the ringing in his ears. "He's home."
———————
Tim's feet left dark red prints on the gravel driveway. He didn't notice, he couldn’t feel the pain in his feet from the glass he'd stepped through or the slick wetness of blood in his torn socks. There was only one thought repeating over and over in his head: Get home.
And he had. He'd made it.
Before he could even reach the handle, the front door swung inward to reveal Alfred standing against the golden light of the foyer. His brain begged for this to be real.
"Master Timothy," Alfred's voice wavered, a hair off from his usual formality.
Tim tried to speak. His throat worked, dry and raw from screaming. No. Not screaming- running, from running, just running.
"Alfred." His voice cracked. "I'm- I made it. I got out."
The words tumbled out in a rush, breathless and strangely proud. Because he had gotten out, had outsmarted them. He’d busted a hole in the doorframe with all his Robin strength and clicked open the lock. He'd won.
Alfred smile pulled thin. "Yes, you did." He stepped aside to let Tim pass. "Come inside, lad."
Tim stumbled across the threshold. The warm air of the manor washed over him, the smell of wood polish and old books. It was so different from the cold, damp air he'd been breathing it made him dizzy. His feet left red prints on the marble floor and he registered, distantly, that Alfred would have to clean that up, but it was like his brain was a mile away.
He started to apologize, but the words stuck in his throat because suddenly Bruce was there, emerging from the hallway looking like he’d aged a decade in days.
For a moment that felt like years, they stared at each other. The evidence of sleepless nights was written in the deep purple around Bruce's eyes. Tim opened his mouth to apologize for that too, for making him worry, but Bruce moved, closing the distance in a blur of motion, and suddenly there were two strong arms around him.
Tim sucked in a sharp breath. The pressure overwhelmed him, the feeling of another person pressed into him, but then Bruce's hand wrapped firmly around the back of his head and Tim's brain refocused.
Safe. I’m okay. I’m Home.
"I got out." The words were muffled by how tightly his face was pressed into Bruce’s chest. "I figured it out. The door. It was- it was old- it had a weak spot" He was talking too fast, words spilling out in a manic rush, "I waited until they left, and I- I kicked and kicked and kicked until it gave and I- I could reach the lock and I did and I ran. I ran so fast, Bruce. I didn't stop. I ran until I saw home, I really did it."
Bruce's arms tightened. "You did-" he started, but was interrupted as footsteps thundered down the stairs.
Dick appeared first, eyes wild as he took in the scene. Jason was right behind him, pajamas on, his gun still holstered at his hip like he'd been ready to tear through Gotham the second they got a lead.
"Tim!" Dick shouted.
Tim pulled back from Bruce, smiling. Actually smiling, because Dick was here and Jason was here and everyone was together and he was home.
"Hey," Tim replied.
"Hey?" Jason choked out a harsh sound. “Hey? We've been- you've been- fuck, Tim."
"I'm okay," Tim insisted- and in that moment, riding the high of adrenaline and sheer relief, he truly believed it.
Dick moved forward, stretching his arms out, palms up. "Can I?"
"Yeah," Tim stepped into Dick's arms before he could finish the question. Dick grabbed him and held him tight enough that it might have hurt, but Tim wasn’t sure because everything was suppressed by the overwhelming relief.
"Where were you?" Dick pulled back just enough to scan Tim’s face, his words frantic. "God, Timmy we looked everywhere. What happened?"
"It's- I can- there were these men. They had GCPD badges and they said there was an emergency. That- that I needed to come with them because the area wasn’t safe for kids with a threat present. I- I should have checked, I know I should have checked, but-but they looked so official and my brain went into Robin mode and I- I wanted to help and I-" His voice hitched as a chill ran quick through his veins. Then the adrenaline surged again, washing it away. "But I solved my way out," he continued, eager. "I found a weakness. In just four days. That's- that's pretty good, right? For a civilian? I didn't have any gear or anything!"
"Jesus Christ," Jason breathed, looking at the floor. "Tim, you’re bleeding."
Four sets of eyes dropped to the floor. Tim followed their gazes to where his feet stood in small pools of blood. The marble beneath him was smeared with dark red footprints leading back to the door. Funny, he could see them, but couldn't feel them, like they belonged to someone else and he was watching from the outside.
"Huh," he huffed. "I guess I stepped on something."
"We need to get Leslie here," Bruce said, already moving.
"I'm alright," Tim protested. "Really, I can't even feel it."
“Now.” He didn’t look back to see if Tim was following.
———————
The medical wing’s lights were so bright that Tim had to squint as he sat on the examination table, watching as Alfred cleaned his feet with steady hands, picking out bits of gravel and glass with tweezers.
"This will sting," Alfred warned before applying the antiseptic.
It did. Tim felt it now, a sharp burn that made him suck in a breath. But the pain was oddly pleasant, it reminded him his body was really here and not in that basement with the cold concrete and the-
"Master Timothy?" Alfred cut through the noise in his head. Tim blinked.
"Sorry," Tim refocused his eyes to Alfred’s hands. "Just... thinking."
"A penny for your thoughts?"
Tim coughed and steadied his tone. "About how glad I am to be home. That's all."
It wasn't a lie. He was so goddamn glad it felt like his body might explode. He hadn’t felt like this in over a hundred hours; never in the basement with the men and their cameras. No. He wasn't thinking about that. He was home. He was safe. It was over.
"I've called Dr. Thompkins," Alfred said as he opened a jar of antibiotic cream. "She has requested to conduct a full examination."
A pit settled in Tim’s stomach. "It's just some cuts and bruises, Alfred. Nothing serious."
Alfred held his gaze, then hummed quietly. "Very well. But Dr. Thompkins is very persistent, and Bruce even more so."
"Okay." Tim forced his shoulders to relax. Arguing would make them suspicious and he couldn't… he needed them to believe he was okay. Because he was. He'd gotten out.
The door opened and Bruce entered, Dick right behind him. Jason stood just outside the doorway, arms crossed, face dark.
"How is he?" Bruce asked Alfred.
"Minor lacerations on the feet, some…marks on the wrists and ankles. Nothing that won't heal. Though I suspect Dr. Thompkins will want to be thorough." Alfred said, placing emphasis on the last word.
"I'm sitting right here," Tim raised a hand. "You can ask me how I am."
Bruce paused, and for a second Tim saw something that didn’t make sense- the look Bruce gets when he wants to say something but doesn’t have the words for. Tim's exhausted brain struggled to make sense of it. They were just cut up feet. He'd been injured far worse as Robin.
Bruce cleared his throat. "How are you, Tim?"
"Good,” he said on instinct, then thought better of it. “Relieved. I'm just really glad to be home."
"Do you remember anything about where you were held?" Bruce's voice shifted to detective mode. "Details about the location, the men, anything that could help us find them?"
"Seriously Bruce?" Jason cut in, blocking Tim from view. "Can we maybe not interrogate him right now?"
"It's fine," Tim interjected. "I want to help. I remember-" He paused, feeling unwanted thoughts try to crawl into his mind. Bright flashes and large, sweaty hands. "There was a basement. Somewhere in the Narrows, I think. The noise- I- I could hear the traffic. And the men, they had- they had badges, fake ones. GCPD. That's how they- I should have noticed. I really should have checked. But I didn't and-"
"Hey." Dick moved beside him, hand rubbing up and down Tim's arm. "This wasn't your fault, Tim. You know that, right?"
"I know," he said, because that was what Dick wanted to hear. "I just... I want to help catch them. For the safety of other kids, y'know?"
"We'll find them," Bruce spoke with the weight of an unarguable fact… or a threat. "I give you my word, Tim. We will find them."
Jason grunted from the doorway, hand gripping the trim. "And when we do-"
"Jason." Bruce's tone held a warning.
"What? I'm just saying, whoever did this is going to wish they-"
"Jason."
Jason went silent, jaw tensing hard, like he was grinding his teeth together to keep any words from coming out. There was a heat in Jasons eyes that made Tim's hair stand on edge. Tim should have been comforted, happy even that Jason even cared enough about him to be angry, but right now, he didn’t feel anything at all.
"Dr. Thompkins will be here within the hour," Alfred spoke, breaking the tension. "Master Timothy should rest until then."
"I'm not tired," Tim lied. He was exhausted, his bones were heavy and he could feel the adrenaline starting to wear into nausea. But if he closed his eyes, it would be dark again and he was so, so sick of the dark.
"Just take a quick break, Timmy." Dick’s mouth curved into a soft smile. "Lie down for a bit, we'll be right here."
Tim wanted to argue, but he wasn’t sure he had the energy anymore. He let Dick ease him back on the examination table, let Alfred drape a warm blanket over him, tucking it tight.
"Someone should stay with him," Bruce declared.
"I'll do it," Dick and Jason answered simultaneously.
They looked at each other, a nonverbal conversation passing between them. Jason nodded, clearly unhappy with the outcome, and turned to walk away. As he left, he looked back at Tim. "I'm glad you’re back, replacement."
The corner of Tim’s mouth lifted slightly. "Me too."
“But if you ever make us worry you’re dead again, I’ll kill you,” he called from the hall.
The door closed and Dick pulled up a chair beside the examination table, settling into the role with ease, years of the 'comforting older brother' role behind him.
"You don't have to stay." Tim picked at the edge of his nail.
"I want to." Dick reached out, hesitating for a second before letting his hand rest on the edge of the examination table. Not quite touching, but close enough that Tim could reach it if he wanted. "We were so worried when you didn't come home. We couldn't find any trace of you..."
"I'm sorry," Tim said. "I can’t believe I fell for those stupid badges, they didn’t even-”
"Stop." Dick cut him off firmly, tilting his chin down. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. These people clearly knew what they were doing. There's no way you could have known."
"But I'm supposed to be better than that.” The words started spilling out again. "I'm supposed to notice things, be smart, that’s my whole thing right? Detective? And I just- I walked right into it like an idiot. Like a stupid kid"
"You are a kid, Tim. You're fourteen years old."
“Right.” Tim shut his mouth. He didn’t want to argue so he closed his eyes to end the conversation. Behind his eyelids, he saw the flash of a camera.
His eyes snapped open.
"You okay?" Dick asked immediately.
"Yeah," Tim breathed. "Just- still all wound up, I guess."
Dick hummed in understanding. "Want me to tell you about the new upgrades we made to the cave? Might help you relax."
Tim nodded, grateful. The familiar sound of Dick's voice blanketed him as he talked about security improvements and a potential new logging system. Tim let the words blur together, trying to focus on the sound over the noise in his head. He was fine. He was home.