Chapter Text
“Officer Grayson,” Dick looked up from where he was tying his boots, “Could we have a word?”
Two detectives were standing in the doorway of the locker room. He easily identified them as Montoya and Allen.
“Of course,” Dick nodded, “How can I help?”
“In private.” The words were firm.
Dick noted the small undercurrent of tension. There was something going on. Something he didn’t know about. Something that was making the pair of detectives uncomfortable.
Outwardly Dick shrugged and pliantly followed them to an interrogation room.
“What is this about?” Dick asked, “Do I need my Union Rep?”
“No. We just want to ask you a few questions about your brother.”
“Jason or Damian?” Dick returned immediately.
“Timothy.”
“Timmy?” The name threw Dick for a moment, “No, Tim’s the good kid. He doesn’t get into trouble. There’s no reason for you to be looking at Tim. Whatever he’s been accused of… Whoever accused him… It’s not true. Timmy doesn’t cause trouble.”
“And the others do?”
“Pretty much.” Dick shrugged, “Jason has issues about his background. Feels people look down on him. Then there’s the whole PTSD thing which I will not go into. Damian… Looks down on people. Feels he is superior. That generally leads to trouble. Tim… Tim… Tim doesn’t cause problems. Sure, he doesn’t get on with the others brilliantly, but that’s not his fault. They start the fights. He just refuses to let them walk over him.”
“Do they fight a lot?”
“Not so much anymore.” Dick tried to remember the last fight and nothing was springing to mind, “I think they’re getting over it. Getting more tolerant of each other. Which is a good thing.”
“Getting over what?”
“Is this really relevant?” Dick turned the conversation back around, “What do you want to know about Tim?”
“When did you last have contact with him?”
“Texted him last week.”
“Why?”
“Virus on my computer. He’s good with them. He fixed it.”
“You’re dating Barbara Gordon, couldn’t she fix it for you?”
“Technically yes. But I’d made her angry, so she was the one who infected it. It would take a lot of grovelling to get it fixed quickly, given what I’d done to upset her. Tim’s quicker than making up to Babs. That takes a lot of chocolate and Rocky-Road ice cream for some reason. And sometimes it’s Mint Chocolate. And woe betide me if I get it wrong. And then there’s the multiple ‘just-because-I-love-you’ massages. Tim’s easier.”
“Are you sure it was a week ago?”
“Fairly sure. I can check if you’d like.”
“Please do.”
Curious Dick pulled out his phone and quickly accessed his texts. He knew there was nothing that could be incriminating in them. He wasn’t stupid. He’d been doing this long enough that he knew how to play the game.
But he was still confused. Why the interest in Tim? Why the questions? Things weren’t making sense.
“Wait,” He stared at his phone, “That can’t be right.”
“What is it?”
“It’s been two months. I wouldn’t leave it that long. Surely I invited him to movie night or something since then.”
He looked up at them, his eyes narrowing. He knew he was letting more than a few shades of Nightwing colour his expression; a few shades of Batman too. However, he didn’t care right then.
“I think I’ve been extremely patient so far. What is this about?”
“You’ve heard about the bodies in the warehouse district?”
“I’d ask which ones, but I think I know the ones you mean. The ones not yet linked to any particular gang in the old food warehouse. I heard rumours about a mass murder.”
“That’s the one.”
“What’s that got to do with Timmy?”
“There was some blood found at the scene. It wasn’t in CODIS, but there was a familial match. The blood was from a first degree male relative of Jack Drake.”
Dick felt the blood drain from his face. His words caught in his throat. He wanted to deny what he was hearing. But couldn’t find the breath to speak.
“As far as we can determine Jack Drake only had one brother, who died before Wayne adopted Tim Drake. His father died over twenty years ago. So that only leaves…”
“Timmy. How much blood? Where was it? You’re not talking about a body, so I presume he wasn’t amongst them.”
Dick’s brain was racing, making plans to find Tim and check that he was safe. Tim had to be okay. He just had to be.
“According to the forensic people his blood was older. By a few days. Also, the locations and the splatter indicate that he was being held prisoner and tortured.”
“No.” The word managed to come out of Dick’s throat, even while it felt like he was being strangled.