Chapter Text
When Tim was six, he watched a documentary on world legends and the real-life locations of those myths.
When Tim was six, he became fascinated by monster hunting.
(When Tim was six, he didn’t understand why.)
When Tim was six, Jack broke his arm for the first time after he accidentally spilled milk on some important papers his father was working on at the kitchen table.
Monster hunting became sort of a game to Tim. He kept a folder on his laptop of sightings, and scoured Reddit threads and message boards for the best spots. When Tim was nine, he hopped his neighbor’s fence, partly because he wanted to see his biological father up close, partly because he was interested in the party, and mostly because he just found out Bruce Wayne dressed up like a bat and prowled the night just like all the cryptids he scrapbooked.
Tim tried, just once, to share the story about the legend of the Wendigo with his mother. He had done a project on it in school (a diorama that got him an A+ and was featured in the classroom display case in which Mrs. Worden liked to put all the excellent projects in over the school year). His mom wrinkled her nose and walked away, but not before giving him a thirty minute lecture about how being “such an awkward child” would make it difficult to make connections when he got older. “You have to think of the company, Timothy, and our image. Can you just imagine what would happen if you said this crap in front of intelligent people?” Jack was a lot clearer about what he thought of Tim’s interests. When that diorama came home, he was told to put it in the trash and quit being such a “fucking weird baby moron.”
Tim put it in his closet, along with his quickly growing pile of Wayne/Batman memorabilia, articles, and pictures.
When Tim was 12, he had a nightmare at the Waynes. It was three in the morning, and he woke up sweating and panting—his brain chasing away wisps of dark figures coming after him with whips and hammers and knives. He opened the door quietly, and tip-toed down the large staircase to the foyer, and finally, creeped into the library. The lights were always on, Jason once told him, because it was the older boy’s go-to spot whenever he couldn’t sleep. Tim perused the shelves, and in the West Corner (because the room was large enough to have a West and East section), four beautifully illustrated books of myths, fables, and monsters were laying out on a table. Two huge beanbags were set up beside the table, with fluffy blankets and pillows surrounding them.
Tim looked up and down and around all the nearest corners. When he was sure no one else was there, he sat and began reading voraciously. He read for an hour, soaking in everything he could. He was so distracted that he didn’t hear the sound of heavy footsteps or the first throat clearing from the figure above him. He did hear the second throat clearing.
“Tim?”
Tim slammed the book shut and jumped up, squaring back his shoulders.
“Mr. Wayne…I mean Bruce. Hi. Hi. I’m sorry.”
Bruce’s forehead wrinkled. “I’m sorry to scare you kiddo. I thought I heard someone and I just wanted to check. No harm done at all. Are you—” he cleared his throat, “are you alright?”
“Yes sir! I’m sorry. I had trouble sleeping and Jason said it was ok to come down here but I didn’t mean to disturb you, and I—”
Bruce put out his hands, and shook his head. “Tim. Tim. Stop. You didn’t disturb me at all. And Jason was absolutely right. This room is open at all times. You are more than welcome here. You’re welcome in any part of this house. I want you to think of it as your house too, remember? As much as you want to at least.”
Tim looked down, hiding his blush. “Oh. Ok.”
With a grunt, Bruce fell back into the beanbag across from Tim’s. “So, what are you reading?”
“Nothing. It’s stupid.”
Bruce picked up the book Tim had dropped and looked through it, eyes lighting up. “Oh my goodness. I remember this one. I used to follow Alfred around with this all the time when I was a kid. Have you read the section about Nessie? I always liked to think when I was younger I was going to be the one to prove she was real. I know I have the company and everything, but one of these days I’m gonna get back out there.”
Tim’s mouth was hanging open but caught himself before Bruce looked back up. “You don’t think it’s kind of childish?”
Bruce’s eyes were kind and full of fire. “I think it’s brilliant.”
Much later, whenever Tim needed to disappear for a bit, he’d scour message boards, find a map of real-life monster sightings, close his eyes, and pick. He had already been to Mexico, Canada, and Japan.
This time, because the universe liked to make him the butt of all its jokes, it was Scotland.
“Timothy.” Damian’s sounded incredibly unimpressed. “You cannot be serious.”
Tim grinned and wrapped his arm around Damian’s shoulder. “Aw, Dames. C’mon. It’ll be fun.”
“I am not wearing that.”
They were standing in front of a large brick castle with a black and white sign spelling out The Loch Ness Centre and Exhibition. Tim was wearing a bright green sweatshirt with the outline of a sea monster in white and had placed a hat on Damian that said, “Nessie Doesn’t Believe in You Either.” He had also pushed a small plush toy into Damian’s arms that he had bought from a vendor outside the building.
Damian scowled, but was holding onto it tightly.
“Please, kiddo. For science?” Tim held out the scarf with little Loch Ness monsters embroidered on it and stuck his lip out like he was pouting.
“What are you doing?” Damian hissed. “That’s weird. Stop being weird. Fine. I’ll wear it.” Tim smiled triumphantly and wrapped it around Damian’s neck several times.
“Great! We’re right on time, too, Mr. Sourpuss.”
“On time for what?” Damian yawned, and Tim knew the kid was exhausted from the jet lag, but he didn’t want them falling asleep until at least 7 PM. He wanted to give their bodies a chance of adjusting to the time change before going exploring the next day.
“For that.” Tim pointed at a sign for a deep scan cruise meeting point, and the few people gathering in line.
“Timothy. This is for tourists. ”
Tim pretended to look shocked. “Okay, William Wallace, didn’t realize you were a local. My bad, Dami.”
The kid glared at him.
“You are seriously grumpy when you’re sleepy.” Tim gave Damian a protein bar and a bottle of water. “Just enjoy it. Don’t complain. You sound like Dick right now.”
“Richard doesn’t complain.”
Tim snorted. “Oh, you haven’t watched The Greatest Showman with him yet, have you? That’s so inaccurate, they don’t even do that at real circuses, who MADE this movie? He’s insufferable.”
Damian smiled.
The line moved forward a little bit and an announcement let them know the tour would be leaving in 15 minutes.
“What happened to your wrist, Timothy?”
Tim was resting it on top of Damian’s head while he took a picture of their surroundings with the other hand.
“I broke it, nosy.”
“But how ?”
“None of your beeswax.” He stuck his finger in his mouth and then put it in Damian’s ear. The kid yelped and everyone in line shot them annoyed looks.
“Did you know Father came to Scotland once?” Damian asked. Tim hummed interestedly.
“Pennyworth told me about it. Apparently it was very exciting. You should ask him about it.”
“I’m probably not going to do that, but maybe you can tell me the story at dinner tonight?”
Damian looked at Tim, who pretended to ignore his sharp stare and instead took a picture of his face.
“When. When I first came to Father, I didn’t understand many things about this country. About the things Richard or Jason would do or say. Pennyworth was busy and Father was at work or out of the house most of the time. I. I thought maybe he didn’t want me. I. I thought he was going to send me back.” Damian’s voice sounded small.
“That’s awful, Dames.”
“I got angry one morning before school. And I threw one of the cinnamon rolls Pennyworth made at Father’s head.”
Tim smirked. "I hope you got him good." Damian smiled.
“What happened next?”
“I ran upstairs to hide, but instead of hiding in my room, where I knew Richard would come for me right away, I went into the room across the hall. Your room.”
“Not my room, Dami.” Tim said gently.
The kid stamped his foot annoyedly. “ Let me finish. It was your room because it had a Star Battles comforter—”
“Star Wars.”
“—and a poster about some sea creature called Spongebob—”
“God, Dick and Jason really have no excuse.”
“AND there were pictures in your closet.”
Tim carefully did not look at Damian. He took another picture of the landscape. The line began to move and they boarded passenger vans to take them down to the dock. A Canadian family of four sat in front of Damian and Tim, and a large man in sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt, despite the winter wind and snow on the ground, sat behind them.
“Mmm.”
“Timothy.” Damian actually snapped at him. “I hid in your closet and found a shoebox of all the photos you took with Father and Richard and Jason.”
“Is there a point to this or are you being an annoying shit on purpose, Damian?” Tim said sharply. He regretted it immediately when he saw a flash of hurt in his brother’s eyes before quickly hiding it.
Tim sighed. Softer, he said, “Listen shortstack. That was years ago. Things change. People grow. I’m not that person anymore. I don’t like thinking about it.”
“It was two years ago.” Damian said, like he wasn’t 10 and two years wasn’t a lifetime for 10 year olds.
“Yes. It was two years ago. Listen, I know you weren’t here when everything happened, but just know, there was a reason, ok? And I know they’re good brothers, but it’s not ok for Dick and Jason to keep telling you to come over when I said no. And it’s not ok for your father to let you do it either.”
“But how can they be good and be doing something wrong? Why do you still say they’re good brothers or a good father and say they are unsafe? Richard said we’re not supposed to speak to you because you told the police you felt like you were in danger. But you’re smiling in those pictures. And Father sometimes cries in the library when he thinks we’re all asleep. I find him in the corner sometimes at 4 AM and I’ve never told him but sometimes I see Jason standing in front of the door to your room staring at it for hours. And Richard says he misses you but you won’t come home. And Pennyworth has a picture of you he keeps in his pocket, I’ve seen him take it out before. I just don’t understand. Is it me? Did I ruin everything when my mother dropped me off? Are you mad at me? Do you hate me? I can leave. I can go back to grandfather if that will make you happier.” Damian said everything in such a flurry of words that by the time he was done, he was breathing hard and his face was red.
At that moment, the van stopped and everyone was asked to exit. Tim and Damian were jostled to the front of the line and stepped onto a small boat. Damian was quiet and seemed embarrassed, and Tim’s mind was going a million miles an hour.
The tour guide grabbed a portable microphone and speaker and started the engine.
He nodded to Tim and Damian who were standing by the railing and in a thick Scottish accent and some very theatrical gravitas, began his speech. “Good af’ernoon, lads, lasses, and other gentlefolk. I’m Captain Hamish McFadden and today we search for the elusive Nessie of the Loch. Like many before ya, we’re going to use our cutting edge technology to scan the deep and see what the radar says. Mebbe you’ll be lucky, and come back with answers none have ever got.” Damian snorted meanly and scrubbed his face. He ignored Tim, and looked out at the lake.
It was hard to hear anything over the sound of the boat, but eventually, they stopped in front of Urquhart Castle and Captain Hamish turned off the engine. He told everyone they’d stay for 15 minutes for any pictures people wanted to take. The man in the Hawaiian shirt looked to be sleeping in the corner. The family of four were jostling around Tim and Damian to find a good photo op and the Captain was helping them get situated.
Damian walked to the other railing, away from the castle and Tim followed.
They both looked out into the rolling water. The cold was biting, and Tim wanted more than anything to wrap the scarf tighter around Damian’s neck.
So he did.
Then he pulled Damian into a hug that wasn’t super well received at first, as noted by Damian’s tight shoulders, but after half a minute, the kid relaxed and leaned into it. Tim didn’t comment on his red eyes when he finally pulled away. Tim leaned over the rail and turned to look at Damian.
“It is not your fault. It will never be your fault. I stopped talking to them before I even knew about you, kiddo. You are amazing, ok? You deserve the world. You deserve Bruce and Dick and Jason and Alfie and all the craziness and fun that they are. You deserve their love and you deserve to have a home with them.” He paused.
“Did you know that one of the oldest legends of the Loch Ness monster was a sighting in the 7th Century by an Irish monk? He talked about a water beast that could be scared away by making the sign of the cross. It was a silly story to proselytize people back then, but something silly, became legend. To this day, people search for Nessie, even though there’s no proof, even though it started with a silly story.”
Damian sniffed. “Tt. What does that have to do with anything, Timothy?” He sounded sullen, but looked at him sideways with a spark of interest.
“Nothing. But one time, when I had a really bad cold, Bruce stayed in my room and told me hours of facts like that until I fell asleep. That’s your dad, kiddo. He’s not the dangerous one, okay. I am. You’re not the problem, Dames. I am. And I’m doing my best here, but you’ve got to understand that I can’t protect you if you don’t listen to me.”
“But what do you need to protect me from then? I am very formidable. I have a sword.”
Tim couldn’t stop his laugh at that. He pulled Damian in front of him and wrapped his large coat around them both.
“A sword might work. But let’s leave the sharp objects alone for now. Dami, you’re 10. You don’t need to worry about crap like this, ok? I just really messed up and I’m trying to make it right. I can’t tell your brothers, because they wouldn’t understand, and I can’t tell Bruce, because he’s too close to it to be smart, and I can’t tell Alfie because of the same reason. Just. Can we have a good week and then we’ll go to London and I can drop you off with Alfred?”
“I don’t want to go back if I can’t talk to you at home.” And damn it , Damian was tearing up.
At a loss, Tim pulled him into another hug.
“Okay, shortstack. Okay. We’ll work something out. As long as you don’t tell anyone else.”
Damian nodded.
Neither of them noticed the man in the Hawaiian shirt watching silently from behind his sunglasses.