Chapter Text
The rest of the family got back not long after Tim finally relaxed, allowing Bruce to adjust him back onto the couch, his foot on the table. The very second the door opened, Cassandra vaulted across the room and up to the couch, as she put a paper crown on Tim’s head.
“Crown,” she said brightly, as she tapped it down onto Tim’s head properly, “Burger King.”
Bruce looked up at her at the same time Tim did, and saw she was also wearing a paper crown. As were the other kids, who were coming in the door behind her.
“I am the Burger King,” Tim said with a watery smile as he adjusted the crown on his head.
“Nah, you can be a prince,” Jason said, “I’m the king.”
“Excuse you, I’m the oldest, I’m the king,” Dick hollered. He crossed the room and held a bag of food out in front of Tim, “Here Prince Timmy. We got you both a burger and nuggets so you can pick which you want. I wasn’t going to come back without a burger from a place called Burger King.”
Tim nodded, as his lip wobbled for a second, before he finally whispered, “Thanks.”
Cassandra climbed over the couch back and sat down next to him and patted his leg. “Bruce kind Tim,” she said with a gentle smile.
“Yeah,” Tim said, with a breathless laugh.
Selina finally made it into the house, walking with Damian by her side, so Bruce got up and left Tim and Cassandra on the couch together. He walked over to her and offered a kiss, as he took the bag of food at the same time. “How were they?”
“Angels,” Selina said, her hand on top of Damian’s head. “I bought them so much sugar.”
“We had cinnamon rolls and ice cream,” Damian announced, before he freed himself form Selina’s hand and ran over to the rest of the kids, crowded around Tim. “Tim do you want your toy?”
“Yes he wants his toy,” Bruce called after them. “Do not beg it off him.” He looked at Selina and smiled slightly. “That boy acts like I don’t buy him things.”
He walked with her over to the kitchen, where he got a plate out and started putting his food onto it.
“How’s Timbit,” Selina asked, leaning up against the counter next to him.
“Just fine. Sprained ankle.” He looked over to where Tim was telling the kids about his doctors visit, then whispered, “He agreed it’s time to do something about his parents.”
Selina’s eyebrows shot up, as a smile spread across her face. “Well, finally.”
“I’ll get working on that this evening. We might have to leave early, we’ll see.”
“The doctor said if I can’t put weight on it in a week I have to go to a foot doctor,” Tim was saying across the room.
Bruce sighed and picked up his plate to go join Tim in eating. “We are taking you to that doctor regardless,” Bruce said. “It’s a pretty bad sprain.”
Tim rolled his eyes, but opened his box of chicken nuggets and started nibbling on one.
“Tim, mustard,” Cassandra said, as she dug through his bag and found a honey mustard cup.
“No thanks. I don’t like mustard,” Tim said, as he took another bite.
Cassandra furrowed her brow, but didn’t try and force the dip on him.
“Want to play the switch after you finish eating?” Damian asked.
Tim looked up at Bruce, then over at Damian and shrugged a shoulder.
Bruce left the kids alone for the afternoon. The five of them took turns playing video games with Tim, until they grew bored of that and started playing board games. Bruce spent the afternoon sitting with Selina, chatting with her as he pulled together all the paperwork. He had a few conversations with Whitney, and set up an interview with Tim for later in the week, so they could get at least half of their vacation there at the lake house.
The courier arrived with the camera a few hours later, chipper and upbeat despite having driven all the way to New York City to acquire it.
“Here you are, sir,” he said, as he handed over the Nikon bag, “Let me know if you need anything else!”
Bruce gave him a hefty tip and brought the bag to where the kids were currently doing a 2000 piece puzzle on the floor.
“Tim, got your camera,” Bruce said, as he walked over and set the bag down next to Tim on the floor.
In an instant Tim sat up, his wrapped foot only barely being moved gently. He ripped the bag open and gingerly pulled the new lens out, then the camera behind it.
“She’s beautiful,” he whispered, clutching the box in his hands tightly. “Thanks, Bruce.”
“Of course, son,” Bruce said, as he leaned over to ruffle Tim’s hair. “Have fun with that. Let me know if you need anything else.”
- - -
The week went along much more smoothly than the week before it had. Tim’s mood mellowed out significantly, and by day three he was nothing but smiles, eagerly taking photos of everything with his new camera.
Each day they found something different to do that Tim could easily do even with his hurt ankle. One day they went to a giant mall about an hour away, that had a theme park inside, and Bruce and Dick took turns carrying Tim piggy-back style. Another day they went mini golfing and to an arcade, where Tim hobbled along on his crutches. And the third day, they went out onto the water and had a picnic on the beach. Even though it was cold, and Jason didn’t stop whining.
Overall, the vacation was the perfect reset, because when they got back to Gotham on Thursday, all the kids were much more relaxed.
Which meant when Whitney came to the door Friday morning, Tim was over his funk, and was ready to talk to her.
He and Bruce had spoken the night before. He’d told Tim, “I need you to be honest with her.”
And Tim had replied, “Not fully honest,” with a smug look on his face.
“Tim. This is very important. If she doesn’t know everything, she can’t help you.”
Tim straightened in his seat and gave Bruce a challenging look. “I’m sure you don’t want me to tell her you’re Batman.”
Bruce sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes. Okay. You are correct, you can’t tell her everything everything. I meant everything about your parents.”
“Fine,” Tim had agreed.
Hopefully, Bruce thought, as he led Whitney through the house to one of the parlors, where Tim was waiting, Tim will actually be forthright, for once.
They went through the whole story with her. How Tim had been left alone without a nanny for a year, how Tim was expected to find his own way home from school if his housekeeper or parents weren’t there to get him. How Tim had to manage himself at night and on weekends. How he carried around his own insurance card, just in case. How he ventured into Gotham after school or on the weekends, just to take photographs of the city.
Whitney was a model of composure the entire time, nodding thoughtfully and asking good questions as she took notes.
“When they’re out of town, they ignore me,” Tim said. He’d been talking devoid of emotion the entire time, and Bruce was slightly worried about it.
But perhaps it was helpful he could turn off the emotions to get it all out.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Whitney said, as she wrote that down in her notepad, “Can you give me examples?”
Tim pulled out his phone, instead of answer. He pulled up his mother’s contact and set it down on the coffee table between them, then pressed call.
The phone rang twice before cutting to voicemail. Whitney frowned, then frowned harder when Tim pressed end call and then call again.
By the fourth time Tim did it, the phone call cut to voicemail almost immediately, and a text popped up on the screen, from “Mom.”
“Timothy. We are busy.”
Tim crossed his arms and sank backward into the couch. He had his teeth clenched, and for the first time all morning, he looked like he was trying not to cry.
Bruce and Whitney both gave him a minute. In the meantime, another text popped up on his phone, still sitting on the coffee table, this time from his dad.
“Could you behave yourself for one week?”
“I could be dying,” Tim said quietly, his eyes cutting back away from the phone.
Whitney looked up at him, a frown plastered on her face.
“They didn’t ask,” Tim went on, “I could be dying. Or Bruce could be hurting me or something, and I’m asking for help. They haven’t even asked me how Bruce treats me once.”
“How does Bruce treat you,” Whitney asked slowly, her eyes cutting over to Bruce briefly.
“Well,” Tim said, with a shrug, scrubbing a sleeve against his face, “I’m not saying he doesn’t. I’m just saying—they haven’t asked. They don’t care.”
“Is this normal?” Whitney asked gently, pointing down to the phone.
Tim nodded his head. “I used to get emails once a week, but they aren’t even doing that,” he said. He paused when his breath hitched, and finished, “I’ve talked to Mom twice and Dad once since I got here. And Dad only yelled at me.”
“Was he angry?” Whitney asked, leaning forward, closer to TIm.
“Yeah,” Tim said, with another nod, “They’re both angry at me for making them look like bad parents.”
“Does their anger ever scare you?” Whitney asked.
Tim started chewing on his bottom lip and looked away, his face turned from Bruce, too.
Bruce had to restrain himself from reaching out and comforting him. He didn’t want to seem like he was coaching Tim, though he wasn’t sure if Whitney would take it that way at all.
“He’s never hit me,” Tim finally said, still looking away. His fingers curled into his sleeve and he sniffled, then whispered, “But… he does scare me.”
“Your father?” Whitney asked, oddly still as she focused entirely on Tim.
Tim didn’t look up as he nodded.
“What does he do that scares you?” she asked next.
Tim swallowed, as his shoulders inched up closer to his ears. He scrubbed his sleeve across his face again before he said, haltingly, “He just… yells. A lot.”
“What kind of things does he say?” Whitney asked.
Tim shrugged. “He just… yells. Says I don’t listen, and I don’t behave, and, and, nothing I ever do is right.” Tim’s breath stuttered, and he pressed a sleeve into one eye. “He’s always mad about something I did.”
Whitney nodded, leaning forward and listening attentively.
Bruce set an arm up on the couch between them. He was sitting far enough away, his hand only barely reached Tim. He gently set his fingertips on Tim’s scalp, and when Tim leaned into the hand, Bruce left it there.
“If he’s home,” Tim whispered, “he’ll yell in my face and if I say anything he says—he says I’m back talking, and—” His breath hitched again, and he cut himself off entirely.
Whitney asked, gently, “And then what happens?”
Tim shook his head quickly, sniffling still as he said, “Nothing.”
Bruce ran his fingers through Tim’s hair, and didn’t say anything. Neither did Whitney. Bruce could see it in Tim’s shoulders, in how tense he was holding himself. He could feel it in how Tim trembled slightly, under his fingers.
There was something.
“He just—” Tim started, but he stopped himself again.
Bruce shifted his hand slightly, so his hand was cupping the top of Tim’s head, his thumb scratching back and forth just above his ear.
“If I don’t shut up,” Tim finally said, his voice trembling, “he’ll grab me by my arm.” He clutched his left arm onto his right arm, as if demonstrating how. “And he’ll—”
When Tim didn’t continue, Whitney said gently, “You can take your time.”
Tim shook his head quickly. “He drags me upstairs,” Tim said, swallowing hard, “and locks me in my room.”
Whitney didn’t react right away. She just nodded once, as she wrote a few lines in her notepad. Finally, she looked up and asked, “How often does that happen?”
Tim shrugged one shoulder. “Whenever he’s home,” he mumbled, “If he’s mad.”
“How long has it been happening?” she asked next.
“I dunno,” Tim said, as he scooted back further, pressing his head up against Bruce’s hand. “Forever, I guess.”
“How long do you stay in your room?”
“I—I don’t know,” Tim said haltingly, “It’s… never the same.”
Whitney’s face remained completely calm as she asked, “What’s the longest you’ve been locked in your room?”
“Like, a day I guess,” Tim muttered.
Bruce’s fingers stilled against Tim’s head, but when Tim cut his eyes up at Bruce, Bruce went back to gently caressing his scalp.
With another nod, Whitney asked, “Does your mom know?”
“Yeah,” Tim said, nodding absently, “She tells me to behave better.”
Whitney nodded once more as she finished writing in her notepad. Then she shut the cover and set it beside her, looking right up at Tim with a gentle smile. “Thank you for telling me that. I know this wasn’t easy.”
Tim shrugged and scooted over on the couch, right into Bruce’s opened arm. Bruce took the hint and wrapped his arm around Tim.
“My job is to make sure you’re safe,” Whitney said, her eyes softening as Tim melted into Bruce’s embrace. “Based on everything you’ve told me today, I’m going to open a case and follow up on everything.”
“What…” Tim asked slowly. He paused, to take a deep breath, then tried again. “What does that mean?”
“It means your parents will need to return to the United States and talk to me and my colleagues.”
And hopefully they’d be pressing charges against the Drakes, Bruce thought. He was not going to let this get swept under the rug.
Had Bruce known about Jack’s temper before… Bruce took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Tim was safe. That was what he needed to focus on.
“What about me?” Tim asked quietly.
“For now,” Whitney said, smiling a little more, “you will stay right here, with Bruce and his family. I’ll be in touch with both of you about next steps, when we form a care plan. You will have an entire care team responsible for keeping you safe.”
“But I can stay with Bruce?” Tim asked, his shoulders tensing under Bruce’s arm.
“Is that what you want?” Whitney asked neutrally, her head tilting. She didn’t even glance up at Bruce.
“Yes,” Tim exclaimed, “Yes. I love it here.”
Whitney smiled. “Then I don’t have a problem with it. Bruce is a certified foster parent, and I like when I can place children with people they trust.”
“Okay,” Tim mumbled. He dropped his shoulders and turned toward Bruce.
Bruce tightened his arm and held Tim close. “You did so good, buddy,” Bruce whispered, “I’m proud of you.”
Tim nodded into Bruce’s shirt and mumbled, “Are we done now?”
“Yes,” Whitney said. She pulled a business card out of a pouch in her notepad and set it down on top of Tim’s phone, still sitting on the coffee table. “My number is on here, you can text me if you come up with any questions, Tim. If you think of anything else, or you have concerns about anything regarding your care and safety, you can contact me. I’m here to keep you safe.”
Tim hesitated, pressing his head further into Bruce’s chest, but he finally nodded and mumbled, “Okay.”
“All right,” Whitney said softly, “I’m going to head back to the office. I’ll be in touch soon. I can see myself out.”
Bruce nodded, and mouthed, “Thank you,” at her, as she got up.
They sat there for several minutes, while Tim hid his face in Bruce’s shirt. He wasn’t crying, Bruce didn’t think, but he certainly wasn’t anywhere near okay.
Eventually, Tim sat up and scrubbed roughly at his face with his sleeve. He looked up at Bruce, and his face absolutely crumpled. “Did my parents just lose custody?”
Bruce hesitated, and frowned slightly. “For now… yes.”
“Oh,” Tim said. His chin started wobbling, and a second later he was absolutely sobbing into Bruce’s shirt.
Bruce just pulled him up into his lap and held him tightly, as he absolutely lost it.
He absolutely hated that Tim was feeling this way, but Bruce couldn’t help but be a little happy about it.
Finally Tim was letting people in. Hopefully this was just the first big step in a much happier life for this precious little boy.