Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tim hadn’t been lying, per se, he had simply been omitting the truth. 

After all, there hadn’t really been a good time to just come out and say, hey, my real name isn’t actually Timothy Jackson Drake! When Tim had first become Robin, Bruce was too grief stricken and angry to even consider telling him. Then there were new family members piling in as Jason returned. Tim was already dodging Damian’s murder attempts, he didn’t have time to even think of how he would approach them with all of this. Then Bruce ‘died’ and he had to run off and get him back, losing the mantle of Robin in the process. 

But here they were, things finally calming down after Duke joined the family. Of course, there were still the occasional Arkham breakouts, but they had become few and far between. Gotham itself had gotten better, even if just a smidge. 

So here he was, about to sit his family down and explain. Well, explain the basics. No need to bring up the killer phantoms, no siree. Anyway, his friends from before —before Timothy Drake— had talked him into it. They wanted to come and all visit him instead of him leaving to go see them like usual. Staying in the nest could have been an option, though cramped, but they all agreed it was time for Tim to ‘come clean’ to his new family. They might have also wanted to finally see the manor. 

Either way, he was doing this. Tim had already called the family meeting and they were all waiting for him in the parlor. 

Despite this, despite how long Tim has had to think of how he could go about this, making his own contingencies for all sorts of reactions, his hands still shook. Tim cursed himself quietly. Why was he reacting like this? He’s been shot, his throat slit, his spleen removed, hell, he has died before! Yet this scares him so much more than he ever thought it would. 

Tim dug the palms of his hands into his eyes, taking a shuddering breath. He paused when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. It buzzed again as he took it from his pocket.

A small smile crept onto Tim’s face as he scanned the screen. Messages of his friend’s reassurances flooded his notifications. He skimmed them all before tapping on a particular message, bringing the whole text conversation up, though only focusing on the most recent response. 

Ashlyn

You’ll do great

Short and simple, but Tim felt the tension in his body ease just a bit. Taking a final grounding breath, he went to join his family in the parlor. 

Tim had always been an odd kid, at least in Bruce’s eyes. 

Of course, all his children were ‘odd’ in some way or another, but he didn’t love them any less. Tim is dedicated, he’s intelligent, and he’s extremely observant, but something had always prickled in the back of Bruce’s mind, even if he didn’t always realize it. (Though signs of a past involved with something were there. The attentiveness, the strategy skills, and his pre-existing combat capabilities. Perhaps it was easier to just utilize the skills and to ignore their origins. Easier for Bruce, at least, during the time Tim first became Robin.)

When Tim had first called the family meeting for later in the day, Bruce had been confused. His boy didn’t have many major cases —the biggest one being a string of robberies— so it likely wasn't about anything regarding their night time activities. There was also the fact that Tim requested everyone to meet in the manor, where Alfred had forbidden any vigilante work to be discussed. 

So, what could this be about? Tim had already come out as bisexual, so it couldn't be that… Bruce tried to interrupt his own pondering by turning his attention to his other children, along with Barbara, Stephanie, and Alfred, who stood to the side. They all seemed to be contemplating the same things as him as most sat on the various chairs and couches in the room. Their heads all snapped in Tim’s direction when he finally entered the room. 

“Alright Timbers, we’re all here. Now what’s got your panties in a twist?” Jason was, unsurprisingly, the first to speak. He himself was leaning against a wall, arms crossed. 

Several affirmations were made by others in the room as Tim quickly found a chair and sat down. Bruce frowned slightly when he saw that Tim’s hands were ever so slightly shaking. Glancing at Cass, Bruce saw her own eyebrows scrunched in concern.

“This had better be important, Drake. I was meant to meet with Jon this afternoon.” Damian looked to be especially annoyed at being pulled away from his friend for what he might deem as trivial.

Dick just chuckled at his younger brother before announcing, “Well, we should hurry up then! Don’t want to keep Dami from his playdate for too long.” Damian’s squawk could be heard over the chuckling that swept through the room, but everyone quickly quieted when Bruce cleared his throat.

Taking a deep breath and sitting forward, his elbows now resting on his knees, Tim blurted out: “My birth name isn’t Tim Drake.” 

It was like the room was hit with one of Mr. Freeze’s blasts. No one moved, no one seemed to breathe. It was a few moments before the room erupted with noise.

“WHAT?!”

“Wait-!“

“You cannot be serious-“

“This is not a funny joke, Drake!”

With wide eyes, Bruce held up a hand, silencing the exclamations. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw their shocked faces, even Alfred, who could normally keep his composure well.

“What do you mean, Tim? Or-“ Bruce’s sentence sputtered out; he was unsure of what to say, unsure of what to even call his son. He had known him as Tim for years, shouldn’t it make sense to keep calling him that? If Tim isn’t his birth name, then what is? Should he call him by this new name, whatever it is?

“The Drake’s were friends of my bio parents,” he started. Everyone seemed to subconsciously lean forward, eyes glued to Tim, who was only looking at the ground. “Some shady stuff happened, so my parents thought I would be safer with their friends. The Drake’s changed my name and paraded me around as their ‘perfect’ son who had been away at boarding school. You guys are my second foster family.” Tim finally looked up, body tense and face unreadable, or at least unreadable to Bruce.

His mouth felt dry, and it was one of the few times where Bruce didn’t know what to say or do. Comfort? Question? 

Fortunately for him, Alfred regained his composure faster. “May I ask what your birth name was? And would you prefer to be called such?” 

Alfred’s calm voice seemed to ease the tension visible in Tim, and he responded, “My name was Aiden. I would like to still be called Tim by you all. That's what you guys have always called me anyway, there’s no need to change that.” 

Bruce tried to give his son a reassuring smile, “What was your last name?” 

At this, Tim laughed. “If I were to tell you all, Demon Brat over there would never call me anything different.” His laughter seemed to help the remaining tension in the room bleed out as the other people present began to laugh alongside him. 

There were a few remarks like:

“Dude, that’s crazy!” 

And

“Dang, kid. Always full of surprises.”

Damian appeared offended by Tim’s reasoning but instead said: “Why now? You have been with this family for years, so why tell us all now?”

The room quieted down again and Tim grasped the back of his neck with his right hand, almost sheepishly replying, “Well, I still have some friends from before and they wanted to come visit. It would have been hard to explain random people staying in the manor and calling me Aiden, huh? I mean, it would be nice if they could stay in the manor when they come.” Tim rushed the last part out, likely remembering that he would need permission for unknown civilians to stay in said manor. 

Bruce couldn’t stop the hurt expression that covered his face, even though he quickly tried to conceal it. That was the only reason Tim told them? Would they ever have known otherwise?

Again, fortunately someone else spoke his thoughts. “Were you planning to just never tell us? Baby bird…” Dick couldn’t disguise the hurt in his voice.

Flinching at the tone, Tim tried to defend himself, “The whole thing really isn’t important. I’m Tim now, the only ties I have back to my life as Aiden are my friends.” 

“Of course it’s important Tim, it’s your life.” Bruce protested. Nods of agreement swept the room. 

Tim froze for a moment but recovered quickly. 

“How about I go make some refreshments for us to enjoy as we talk more about when our guests will be arriving?” Alfred suggested in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

“Oh, oh! Hot coco please!” Steph jumped up, waving an arm in the air and almost smacking Duke in the face. 

Jason smiled, “Hot chocolate is always good. Can I help whip some up, Alfred?" The older man quickly agreed and the two left in the direction of the kitchen.

While they were gone, Bruce watched as Stephanie grilled into Tim for hiding such a thing. His other children butted in to add their own two cents about the reveal and by the end, Tim looked thoroughly chastised. 

Jason and Alfred came back with two trays of steaming hot chocolate and laid them down on the coffee table in the center of their circle of chairs and couches. 

Once everyone had their respective drink, Tim began, “There’s five of them-“

“Ooo, who knew you could make so many civilian friends?” 

“-oh shut it, Jason; as I was saying there’s five of them. There’s the twins, Taylor and Tyler. Then there’s Logan, who I think would get along with Jason, book-wise at least. My cousin Ben,-“

“You have a cousin? Where is he?” Interrupted Barbara.

Tim steamrolled right through her questions, “-he’s mute, and often communicates through sign language. And then there is Ashlyn. She likes ballet, so you might like her, Cass.” 

Alfred nodded along. “When should we expect them? How many rooms should I prepare?” He questioned.

“Well, we had been thinking about the 23rd, and really, just my room is fine. We often have sleepovers.” Tim informed him. 

Eyebrows shot up around the room. Most seemed to be thinking something along the lines of, Tim trusts these people that much? Alfred, however, remained as impassive as ever and only gave a curt nod.

Cass’ attention remained on Tim, even as a soft smile spread across her face. “They are important to you.” She stated simply. Tim only gave her a small grin in response. 

Chapter Text

It was truly no surprise to Tim that he felt a tingling at the back of his mind as the day progressed. While he and the others had figured out how to somewhat limit how often they were sent to the Phantom Realm, there were always things that triggered it. 

This time, it seemed to be because he had a mini crisis of whether he should tell the Bats about the place or not when he brought up his past. Tim had, obviously, chosen to keep it close to the chest, but thinking so hard on it must have been enough.

It had been a rough (read: brutal) first year or so of dealing with the Phantom Realm. The non-stop literal nightmare after nightmare had been grueling. It wasn’t until they realized just how intertwined the other dimension was with their own psyche that they started to have a say in the matter. 

So here Tim was, shutting himself in his room and claiming that he was going to wrap up some cases. Red glowing numbers announced the time as 11:34 from his nightstand as he went down his mental checklist. Laptop? Check. Snacks? Check. New forearm guard prototypes to fiddle with? Check. 

As he sat on his bed, Tim went down the list until he was sure he had what he needed. With that assurance, he settled in as the clock ticked closer to midnight. 

He had been reviewing evidence on a homicide to be sure he had reached the correct conclusion when the familiar feeling of the world shifting to the left occurred. The nauseating feeling may have been familiar by now, but it never got any more pleasant. It took a moment, but once the world had steadied, Aiden’s Tim’s eyes scanned the room. 

The bones of it were the same: his overly large bed sat across from the door, a desk tucked to the right of the door with the bathroom and closet doors on the same side, his nightstands on either side of the bed, and a wall of bookshelves carrying various nick-nacks on the left. The biggest difference would likely be the overwhelming number of lights scattered through his room, mostly focused on the doors and windows. There were more that were currently turned off, but could be powered up with a click of a button or switch to light up nearly every inch of Tim’s room –in case of a breach, of course. 

After the lights, the items meticulously placed in the room were the next thing to likely catch someone’s eye. The nick-nacks and books that were present on the shelves in the Human Realm were replaced with various weapons, supplies, and provisions; in other words, just about anything one could need to survive long term (with small supply drop-offs from the Human Realm).Over the years, the ‘safe’ zone had even been extended to have lit up phantom-free pathways through the mansion for easy access. It was a fortress that kept all the bad of the other realm out. 

Seeing nothing wrong or out of place, Tim resumed his work after starting his timer. Being alone in this part of the Phantom Realm often meant a long boring night; leaving his self-made fortress would simply bring unnecessary risk, or at least it would be according to his friends. 

(But what is life without a little risk? 

Without the adrenaline of a chase?

Of death?)

It went like that for a few hours; Tim working on cases and periodically checking his timer. 6 hours and 25 minutes left… 5 hours and 3 minutes… 4 hours and 38 minutes…

When it hit the 3 hour mark of being in the Phantom Realm, Tim saved his progress and finally got up, body stiff. Items in his black gear belt rattled as he raised his hands above his head and leaned back to get that good pop.

With a sigh, Tim entered his bathroom. After doing his business and while just finishing up washing his hands, he heard a muffled bang from outside the manor. He exited the bathroom, not bothered by the water dripping onto the floor as he wiped his hands on his pants. Peeling back the curtains just a bit, Tim peeked out. The blood red sky painted the world in eerie darkness, only illuminated by the lights put up and the glowing moonlight. Looking down below his windowsill, he spotted what had caused the noise.

The form of a phantom was crumpled in the grass, head sporting a rather large crater and a couple of its limbs twisted at grotesque angles. Black slowly oozed from the corpse onto the ground, forming a small puddle. 

Tim only huffed a breathy laugh. The thing must have fallen from the roof, he mused. It happened every once in a while as the creatures clamored for room on the mansion’s slopes. 

The body would be gone soon enough; the phantoms seemed to cannibalize their dead. For what reason, Tim wasn’t exactly sure –not like they actually needed to eat. Either way, the image of the creatures ripping a mangled body apart as they shoveled bits and pieces into their waiting mouths festered in his mind. (Is it for energy? Or maybe strength? Tim could only hypothesize.)

He let the curtain fall back and stepped back from the window before he could see the process occur again. Spinning on his heel, he headed towards the desk. A few unfinished projects along with half-completed blueprints were scattered on its surface; both for Bat work and the Phantom Realm. 

Snatching up the latest project, Tim turned back to the bed and flopped back down. He fiddled with it and adjusted things and took notes on the process for just over three and a half hours before taking a peek at his timer. 

Letting out a sigh, he set the items aside on his nightstand before adjusting his position. Despite the urge to continue his work, the need for a full nights rest after surviving on just a few hours a week surpassed his wants. He ended up laying on his left, face pressed against one of his pillows. 

Nowadays, sleeping facing that way was the most comfortable. Despite how long it had been and just how over it Tim was of the whole incident, the scars from his first death that littered the right side of his head were often tender and sensitive. The way they overlaid the thin scars stretching from the end of his lips to nearly his ears certainly didn’t help either.

(He was glad the wounds didn’t transfer over into the Human Realm; with how prominent they were, he would have had to give some sort of explanation or assurance to the Waynes. The attention the additional scars would have drawn would not have been appreciated either.

Privately, Tim found it hilarious just how deep secrets and emotional avoidance ran in his family –new and old.)

Settled in, Tim was left with his thoughts until he finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

When he flinched awake to the blaring of his normal alarm clock, Tim took a quick glance around. Gone were the additions Tim had made to his room in the Phantom Realm as soft sunlight streamed through the cracks in his curtains. He wiped the sleep from his eyes as he sluggishly pulled himself from bed. Even sleeping for the recommended amount of hours didn’t make him any more approachable in the mornings.

He could smell the bacon Alfred must have made wafting from the kitchen as he made his way downstairs. Despite all that had happened since he came to live with the Wayne’s, the scene of his family bickering over towers of pancakes and eggs brought his sleep-addled brain comfort. 

A cup of coffee was placed in his hands by someone who he couldn’t quite identify in his current state, only mumbling a “Thanks” while he raised the liquid gold to his lips. 

Chapter Text

The days leading up to his friends’ arrival seemed to pass incredibly fast and excruciatingly slow at the same time. (Tim briefly wondered about why it felt like that. He had seen them throughout the years, so it wasn’t like it was going to be some sort of big reunion or anything. Maybe it was because they were coming to the Manor and were finally being put on the Wayne’s radar? Either way, Tim quickly stomped down those thoughts and worries like any self-respecting Bat would.)

During that time, Tim dodged the questions thrown at him from his family. Whether it was giving vague answers, using misdirection, or just straight up ignoring the inquiries, Tim managed to keep things close to his chest. 

When the 23rd finally arrived, Alfred had shooed everyone –except for a select few– out of the house despite their protests, claiming that “the guests don’t need to be crowded like sardines in a can upon their arrival; it would be terrible manners.” Tim gave the older man his quiet thanks, which was returned with a small smile and nod. 

And now, here Tim was: who knows how many coffees deep and waiting with Alfred in the pick-up lane at Gotham Airport. He had been texting back and forth in the group chat since their plane landed, letting them know where he waited. When it was clear the group was getting close, Tim and Alfred stepped out of the car. 

Tim was scanning the small crowd when he saw them leave the building: Ashlyn was in front, a large duffle bag slung over her shoulder, eyes trained on her phone screen; Logan, Taylor, and Ben were in the middle of the group, carrying bags and suitcases, all looking varying degrees of tired; bringing up the back, Tyler was carefully scanning the area with a look of slight disdain on his face. 

The moment Ahslyn glanced up, Tim raised his arm in an exaggerated wave, face lighting up. Her own expression softened as she pocketed her phone and started leading the others over, weaving through the small crowd. 

Before she could even set her bag down, Tim wrapped his arms around her. Ashlyn squeezed back, their touches lingering momentarily before separating.

“It’s so good to see you guys,” Tim addressed his friends, going and trading a few more hugs with them –even a short one with Tyler. 

Taylor smiled, “It has been way too long!” she said, dragging out the ‘y’. Much like her brother did, she scanned the area around them, noting the cloudy sky. “Huh, is it always this gloomy?”

You don’t have to answer that, she and Logan spent the whole flight going over your ‘Gotham Preparedness Presentation’, Ben signed, huffing a laugh. 

Tim only chuckled. “Good, you can never be too careful in Gotham.” 

When the older gentleman behind him stepped closer to the group’s bags, Tim stepped aside and introduced the man to the other teens, “This is my grandfather, Alfred.”

Logan came up and greeted him with a handshake, saying, “It’s very nice to finally meet you, Mr. Pennyworth, I’m Logan. Aiden has told us so much about you.” 

Alfred’s lips twitched upwards, but he otherwise kept his face composed as he responded, “It is nice to meet you as well, young sir. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same,” There was a touch of displeasure in his tone, reminding Tim of the talking to he had received from Alfred regarding the matter. Logan just laughed. 

After making sure he was properly introduced to everyone, Alfred then bent to pick up a few of the bags and Ben followed suit. The older man raised an impeccable eyebrow, about to object, but the teen just shook his head stubbornly. With a twitch of the lips, Alfred nodded and began loading up the trunk. 

While the two were doing that, the other began piling into the car –Tim had collapsed one of the seats in the middle row to allow Logan, Tyler, and Taylor to pile into the furthermost row. Pulling the folded seat back up, he let Ashlyn slide in and she scooted to the far side. Tim hopped in after her, taking up the middle seat, while Ben climbed in once the luggage had been all squared away. It was only a moment later that Alfred sat in the driver's seat and began the drive back to Wayne Manor. 

The group was chatting happily about various things as they entered Bristol; the scenery changing from the cramped, dull, and dirty streets of Gotham proper, into the more polished, spaced out mansions and estates of Gotham’s elite. They aren’t far from the manor when they are interrupted by Alfred turning up the volume on the radio that had otherwise been playing music softly the whole ride.

“-Vicki Vale reporting from Gotham airport. Now the situation is still ongoing, but it appears that a large group of men from Two-Face’s Gang have taken hostages and are holding up Gotham Airport. Their motives are currently unclear-” 

The car is silent for a moment before Tyler deadpanned, “This place is a hellhole.” This promptly leads to Tim bursting out in laughter. 

“Welcome to Gotham!” Tim teases once he calms down.

“Well, at least it happened after we left,” Taylor sighed. The car suddenly went quiet, only interrupted by the radio. This silence was promptly broken by the sound of Tyler smacking the back of her head. She yelped, turning to her twin, “Hey! What was that for?”

Ben turned in his seat and signed exaggeratedly so everyone could see, you jinxed us!

Taylor’s lips formed an ‘oh’ while Logan groaned, “We are all going to die…”

“Now you’re all just being dramatic,” Ashlyn laughed.

“Well-” Before Tim could finish his thought, Ashlyn had smacked him beside the head as well. He only laughed, his voice soon joined by the other teens in the car. 

Alfred lowered the volume of the radio and listened as the young adults behind him laughed. 

Despite his training, he couldn’t help the small smile that overtook his face. He had never seen his pseudo-grandson so happy, not once in all the years he had known the young lad. 

(Deep in his mind, however, a question arose:

Was Tim not happy with the family?)

Alfred’s smile stayed strong as the teens grew more boisterous in the back rows; he would let them have this, just this once. 

Approaching their destination, Alfred clicked the button on the console to open the gates, listening as the teens finally grew quiet behind him. Schooling his expression when the manor came into view, Alfred announced: “Welcome to Wayne Manor, young guests.”