Continuity: Comics!verse AU (mostly), based on post-Crisis continuity (mostly).
Rating: Very M.
Characters/Pairings: Timothy Drake, Jack Drake, Janet Drake, with appearances by Jim Gordon, Bruce Wayne, and Jason Todd; one-sided Tim/Dick.
Word Count: 1279
Summary: Tim goes looking for Dick, and finds... someone else instead.
Warnings: Nothing much this chapter, aside from a general feeling of creepifaction and menace. But you should be expecting that by now. Scary!Timmy is still not your friend.
Disclaimer: Most of the characters and locations in this story are © DC Entertainment Inc. and Warner Bros. Entertainment. All content is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, not for profit.
Notes: GOOD NEWS, TIMMY FANS!! He's baaaaaaaaaaaack~! >:D
The greatest of thanks to the magnificent ava_jamison, excellent beta and friend. ♥ If I dared to compare myself to Batman, she would be Alfred-freaking-Pennyworth. If any part of this chapter is less than perfection, it's because I blatantly and foolishly ignored her sage advice.
Posted to robin_fans, we_love_dick, mrsarcastic_tim, batfic. Also available on my AO3.
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My parents came home from Bogotá yesterday. (It was a very short trip. Next they will go to Buenos Aires.) They insisted on a family dinner, which caused me to miss Garfield Lynns' arson attack entirely. Frustrating. Dick definitely would have been there, and it would have been a rare opportunity to photograph Dick with optimal lighting. They've ruined that for me. They ought to be punished.
...But I suppose it does little good to punish them if they don't know what they are being punished for.
Even so, I must go out tonight. It has been almost a week. I feel the itch beneath my skin.
Family dinner again tonight. When I have finished I tell my parents I am feeling very tired, and I go straight up to my room and close the door. I turn off the light, but I don't get into bed. I pack and dress in the dark, wrapping myself in layers of wool and fleece and down against the cold, and consider where I will go.
...Police headquarters. After a high-profile crime like last night's, it is possible that Dick will wish to consult with Jim Gordon, even though the Firefly has already been apprehended. I'm not certain that Bruce always shares information with Dick anymore, but I have seen that Dick and Jim are still on good terms.
Yes. Police headquarters. I climb out my window.
~ ~ ~
Across the street from police headquarters is an office building, and one of the offices is empty, has been empty for a year. The fire escape outside the office window is among the best places to watch from. It sits in one of the shadow-places, the ones that the city lights never quite reach. The ladder of the fire escape creates some cover, and I hauled a crate up here eight months ago as an extra blind. I am well hidden. My watching place is eighteen floors up; I will not be disturbed.
From here I can see the roof of the headquarters. I can see the Batsignal; it is not on tonight, but Dick could still come, or Bruce could. I can also see into Jim's office; the light is on, and he is at his desk, working. I assemble my tripod and settle in for a long wait.
I keep my eyes trained on the building across the street, unfocused and ready to track any movement. I let my mind wander. Winter break is nearly over. This means I will be spending much of my time in classes and completing my classwork. In order to see Dick, I will have to sleep less. On the other hand, when I am not in class or another scheduled activity, my time will be my own. My parents will be unable to interrupt even if they are at home. Sneaking out of the school is always so easy. No one notices when I am gone.
In another month, training for track and field season will begin. This will be another significant drain on my time. But the training is necessary, the way air riflery, jujitsu, and gymnastics are necessary. I must better myself. I have to be worthy of Dick.
I received a note from Dale Thompson recently. He is the captain of my school's track and field team. He is planning a party for the team at the beginning of training. He says he is looking forward to seeing me there. He says he would love to have my input in planning the party.
He is not looking forward to seeing me. He would not love to have my input. He sucks up to me because I am the star of the team, but he does not like me. None of them do. They think I'm stuck up. ...I'm not. I just find them boring. They don't interest me. But I'm not stuck up.
Something catches my eye and I refocus. Jim is leaving his office. I look back in my short-term memory; Jim received a call on his telephone. He glanced out the window as he spoke. He didn't speak long, and when he hung up he got up quickly and left the room.
The roof access door opens, and Jim steps out. I nudge my camera into a more comfortable position and hold my breath. One of them is here, Dick or Bruce, or maybe Barbara. I don't see anyone and neither does Jim, but they are probably already on the roof.
Motion; Bruce steps out from behind an air conditioning unit. I let my breath out slowly. Dick probably is not here. Bruce and Dick don't often spend time together anymore.
Bruce walks towards Jim, and someone follows him. My breath stops in my lungs. Robin.
No. No. It's all wrong. This one is younger, smaller. This fake, this pretender, is dressed up in Robin's clothes, in Dick's clothes, and—
Bruce is introducing the false Robin to Jim. They are shaking hands. My vision narrows down, and the world fills with a buzzing, ringing sound.
~ ~ ~
I wake up the next morning in my room. I am lying on my bed, but my clothes are still on and I'm wearing my shoes. I don't remember much of what happened last night, but I remember the fake Robin at Bruce's side, shaking Jim's hand, and I burn in a flash of anger. My skin feels hot and cold at the same time.
I practice meditative breathing. I am angry, but I must remain calm. It is distressing that I've lost time, when usually my memory is excellent. I am very, very angry; I can't remember being so angry before.
I must remain calm. I count my breaths. When my hands no longer shake, I shower, put on fresh clothing, and go downstairs.
My parents are eating breakfast and discussing the newspaper. “Bruce Wayne adopted some street punk,” says my dad.
“Look at him,” says my mom. “Black hair and blue eyes, just like the last one. It's a little weird, don't you think? Mr. Wayne must have some kind of thing for little boys who look just like him.” She titters.
“Now Janet, it's probably just that he has sympathy for little boys with no parents,” says my dad.
“I think it's a little weird,” replies my mom.
I take the section of the paper that talks about Bruce Wayne and his adopted son. His name is Jason Todd. He is fourteen years old. He is to be enrolled in Clement Smythe Academy.
I look at the picture of Jason Todd; he and Bruce are standing on the front steps of Wayne Manor, dressed in suits. One of Bruce's hands rests on Todd's shoulder. Todd isn't smiling, not the way Robin should smile. Not the way Dick smiles. He isn't smiling.
“Are you feeling any better this morning?” asks my mom.
It takes me a moment to remember what she is talking about. “No,” I tell her, “today I am feeling worse.”
I am looking at the picture of Bruce and Jason Todd. I see Bruce's hand resting on Todd's shoulder as if he belongs there. I see Todd dressed in red and green and gold. I see Jim shaking his hand. As if he belongs.
Bruce Wayne will have to be punished for this. Jason Todd will have to suffer.
I think while I eat my breakfast. I construct plans and throw them away. It does not take long for me to decide. ...Yes. I have a plan.
Jason Todd and I will be the very best of friends.
* * *