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Tim was good at not being noticed. If you wanted to follow the vigilantes at night and escape the bullies, you had to become one.
Stealth was everything, and it didn't take much between getting caught or having to retrieve the backpack in unlikely places.
It wasn't that difficult after all. He had two rules:
1.Don't wear anything flashy.
2. Never draw attention.
It was simple, anyone could do it, even an idiot.
So how had he ended up with Robin staring at him with blood dripping from his forehead?
"Who are you?" the teenager asked, less aggressively than he expected.
It was from the head injury, the thugs had hit him pretty hard.
"Um…"
"You live here?"
"Um…"
"Where have I seen you before?"
"Well…"
Come on, Tim. Say something! , what was left of his brain scolded him, but Tim couldn't. What did he have to say to his hero in the flesh?
Surely he couldn't ask him for a photo, let alone an autograph.
But he couldn't remain silent, it would be rude.
He had no idea what to do!
Tim wouldn't be in this situation if he stayed hidden, like he always did!
But if he did, the thug would stab Robin, possibly severing a major artery, and Tim couldn't help but do nothing.
Maybe a bin lid wasn't the best weapon, but it had worked, and Robin was alive.
It was a great result for him.
The boy shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, "I'm nobody important."
Robin snorted, "Nobody important? I'm pretty sure you just saved my life, kid."
"I…I just threw one thing…I didn't even know if I was going to hit that man."
"You did. You knocked him out."
Tim glanced nervously at the man on the ground, who still showed no signs of regaining consciousness.
He hadn't killed him, had he? Will Batman arrest him?
He didn't want to end up in Arkham!
He heard an amused snort, "The idiot will recover. These assholes are hard headed."
"You shouldn't swear so much."
"Yeah, you're an eight year old, I don't have to be a bad example."
Before Tim corrected him, Robin's expression became serious, "So I wonder what you're doing out and about at this hour, kid. Where are your parents?"
Crap.
Tim's mind worked on a plausible answer, but he couldn't. Anything he said would alarm the hero, and oh God his parents would get in trouble because of him!
Robin was waiting for an answer, Tim had to hurry up and say something and…
At that moment, he saw a familiar shadow approaching.
"Your father is here," he said.
"What?"
Robin turned around, and Tim took the opportunity to escape, vanishing into the darkness of the night.
He had risked big. It will never happen again!
"Robin, are you okay?" Batman asked as soon as he landed.
Robin snorted, "Calm down, old man. I'll live. A kid saved me."
"A kid? Who?"
Robin looked in the direction her little fan was taking, "I wish I knew too."
Did Tim think being face to face with Robin was bad?
It was because he hadn't met Nightwing yet!
Tim let out a squeal so loud that he would have knocked out even Superman, and only after a long time did he put his hands over his mouth, realizing it was inopportune.
You didn't start making excited screams when there was a person who was in danger of dying of hypothermia!
Um, embarrassing.
Tim had come out prepared in gloves and a heavy jacket when he learned that Mr. Frieza had escaped from Arkham.
It was the sensible thing to do.
The vigilantes obviously didn't face Mr. Freeza wearing a jacket and scarf, but Tim had always thought that inside they had a system that regulated the temperature, so as not to suffer from the heat in the summer and stay warm in the winter. Or fight against Mr. Freeza without fear of dying of hypothermia.
Carefully, Tim touched Nightwing's cheek, and quickly withdrew it.
As the fanoboy in him melted from getting a chance to touch one of his heroes, the more analytical part of his mind kicked into gear.
Nithtwing was in bad shape, surrounded by snow. He had to be moved and taken to a warmer part.
Easier said that done. There was no Batman nearby.
Everyone had locked themselves in their houses, calling an ambulance for a hero was out of the question, since vigilantism was technically illegal and could leave him in the hands of people who would prefer him dead.
No, Tim had to take care of Nightwing. As absurd as it might seem, considering the considerable difference in height between them.
Tim tried to take Nightwing's arm and drag him, but the man didn't move an inch.
He tried to pull him off by the leg: worst result, he tore off the costume.
"Is it just spandex? Of course he's freezing to death. Spandex, what nonsense," Tim thought crossly, as he searched for a way to at least move Nightwing out of the snow.
He had to opt to leave the hero here. But Tim at least had to find a way to keep him warm!
There was a Salvation Army dumpster nearby, and though he had little hope, Tim took everything he found there: dressing gowns, ugly shirts, threadbare pants, clothes with stains he didn't want to know where, and even sweaters.
He turned Nightwing into a mega burrito, and was tempted to take a picture.
He almost didn't. Almost.
"That should be fine," he said, smiling satisfied.
This should keep the vigilante alive until the others arrive.
"You?"
Tim felt his blood freeze, and not for a sudden attack from Mr. Freeza.
Help had arrived earlier than expected. And Robin didn't seem too happy to see him.
"Um…hello."
"Hello? Seriously?"
“Well, it's good manners to say hello," Tim said with all the wisdom imparted to him by Janet Drake. Or it was from his first nanny?
Nevermind, it wasn't improtant.
"Don't get smart with me! We have a lot to say, you and I."
"Wouldn't you rather take care of Nightwing?" Tim asked.
"He's in really bad shape. I did my best, but…"
Robin's face was surprised, "Did you do it??"
"Of course, I certainly couldn't let him die of cold. Who would do that?"
Robin still looked at him with a mixture of surprise and shock. Tim was starting to feel a little cold, and he didn't want to have to deal with Batman.
He could try to lie to Robin. He was less sure of his chances with Nightwing.
But lie to Batman and get away with it? No way.
So Tim did the only thing he could think of to escape an unwelcome conversation: he threw snowballs in Robin's face and ran away.
Yess! Out of danger!
He heard Robin yell, "You can't escape forever! Sooner or later I'll catch you!"
No, he won't. Tim will make sure of it.
"It was him, B! The kid from last time!" Robin exclaimed, as they dragged an unconscious Nightwing to the car.
Batman grunted, "You think he's following us?"
"I'm sure! This is the second time this has happened!"
“Mhm. Next time, we'll have to question him.”
"Do you think it will happen again?" Robin asked, eyebrow arched.
"I wouldn't rule it out — this kid seems to have a knack for being in the wrong place, at the right time."
"Right moment?"
"He saved you both," he explained.
"I am grateful to him. But what he is doing is dangerous. We have to stop him."
Somehow, Robin doubted they would.
Tim had very few pictures of Batgirl. Not for lack of trying, but she didn't show around like she used to. College kept her busy, and after Joker's attack nearly paralyzed her, she was withdrawn for a while.
But now she was back, better than ever! And Tim was photographing her!
It was great!
From his perch on the roof, he could see everything without being noticed.
It was an improvement on what had happened with Nightwing and Robin.
No involvements, and no headshots. Just a sane and normal photography session, with no one paying attention to him.
“She's amazing,” he muttered to himself, still struggling to believe his luck.
To think that he was lurking to photograph Robin and Nightwing together!
He stopped, noticing that one of Two-Face's men was holding a gun.
"Oh no…I don't like this."
Batgirl had just recovered. She had risked being paralyzed. The thug was aiming for her back.
He could have paralyzed her. Or worse.
Tim had promised himself that he would not intervene again.
It was too dangerous, and he risked being discovered.
In recent weeks it had been a feat not to get caught by Robin, now much more careful after having confirmed that he had a fan following him. He didn't want to have all the Bats on his tail.
If there had been anyone else there, he or she would have walked away, pretending had never been on that rooftop, leaving Batgirl's fate to chance.
Too bad for him, Tim wasn't that kind of guy.
He looked around frantically, and the only thing he found was an antenna. It was heavy enough if he was going to fit it.
He tore it off his seat and threw it down, hitting the goon on the head.
He didn't stay to cheer. He ran away immediately.
"I saw him," Batgirl said, stepping into the cave.
Bruce had just taken off his cowl, "Who?"
"Your stalker. He saved me."
"You too?" Jason said, incredulous. It seemed that someone just couldn't stay out of trouble.
Bruce sighed, "It seems we have a protector too."
"He IS a child! We can't let him do that."
“I know, Jason.”
"We have to find him!"
"We will," he promised.
Batgirl said, "Given the pattern, you should be next."
Bruce grimaced, "I'd rather find the kid without one of us being in danger."
"I wouldn't rule it out a priori. It might even be better if we could put a tracker on him and.."
"Batgirl..."
The young woman raised her hands in peace. Thus ended the conversation.
The problem remained. How to stop their stalker?
Spoiler: they couldn't.
Tim promised himself that after Batgirl, he would never meddle in vigilante affairs again.
He was just a civilian, he didn't have insane fighting skills, and wasn't much of anything in general.
Except that he continued to find himself in the most absurd situations: he brought down Robin, who was stuck by a Poison Ivy plant, stopped Batgirl's bleeding after she was stabbed, prevented Nightwing from falling into a trap prepared for him by Marone...
He had to expect that sooner or later it would go wrong. He had too much taste for trouble.
Thus it was that he found himself in the crossfire during an attack by Scarecrow, being hit with the fear toxin instead of Batman.
For once, he wasn't doing anything.
Scarecrow had bad aim.
Tim had just had time to take refuge in the nearby alley before the visions began.
Before his parents appeared, more disappointed than ever.
"It'll be over soon," he thought, as reality around him distorted, and his father started screaming.
Usually, it didn't last more than ten minutes.
He could handle it
Scarecrow had been neutralized, and Batman found their stalker in an alley nearby, a victim of the fear toxin.
The kid was barely breathing, his eyes shining, his hands clenched into fists. He was blocked, being able to pass for a statue, although he was motionless.
Usually, Batman gave the victims the antidote and then handed them over to the authorities to deal with.
This time, he didn't.
The stalker was so young. A kid. He was just a kid.
Robin, Nightwing, and Batgirl had told him, but it was different having the evidence in front of him.
The kid was too young to be on the street, and Batman didn't even know if he still had parents or not.
For the third time in his life, Batman made an impulsive decision that would change his life.
He decided to take the kid with him.
When Tim woke up in the Batcave, he freaked out.
It got worse when Robin smiled, "I told you I'd get you, little bird."
Tim tried to get up, but a gentle hand stopped him.
He lifted his head. It was Nightwing.
He smiled at him, "Not so fast, kiddo. You just recovered."
"I shouldn't be here," the boy tried to say.
Robin snorted, "No, shit. Where are you supposed to be?"
It was the question he'd been dreading for weeks. Before he even opened his mouth, a voice chimed in, "He should be at Drake Manor."
His eyes widened. Batman was here, holding a tablet in his hand. He wasn't angry, he just looked very curious.
The hero continued, "Timothy Drake, age eleven. Only son and heir of Jack and Janet Drake, CEO of Drake Industries and amateur archaeologist. Did I miss something?"
Obviously, he had done research while Tim was unconscious.
Tim had to give up and nodded.
Batman said, "You have a lot to tell us, Timothy. Would you like to start with why you were in that alley?"
He didn't have much choice in the matter.
So, Tim started telling everything.
"I was nine when I discovered a secret..."