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“Do you have any car snacks?” the kid, Tim Drake, asks barely ten minutes into the drive. He pries open the glovebox with too-eager hands like he owns the place.
Dick reaches in front of him to snap it shut. “No.”
He’s hardly known the twerp for an hour, and already Dick has deduced that there isn’t much to like. The fact that a child managed to crack Batman and Robin’s identities by himself is threatening enough. The fact that he came here to track Dick down in his civilian identity is ten times worse. With how bad this kid is at keeping a low profile, it’s a miracle Bruce’s identity hasn’t been plastered on billboards yet.
Dick is just grateful to the universe that Tim jumped at the chance for a road trip with his hero back to Gotham. If he hadn’t been so willing, Dick would have resorted to hog-tying the kid and throwing him in the trunk, which would have been a far messier predicament.
Bruce will know what to do. Just get him to the manor, and this whole bizarre situation will be out of Dick’s hands. He can endure the awkwardness when he has to look Bruce in the eyes for the first time in a year, right?
Dick and Bruce still haven’t spoken since their fight after they lost Jason. Dick tried to reach out a few times, let Bruce know he had someone to lean on in his grief, but it didn’t take long for him to get the message that Bruce wanted nothing to do with him. Dick gave up eventually, and he doesn’t feel bad about it even now that he knows how Bruce has been destroying himself ever since. Bruce should hate himself; he drove away one son and led the other to his death. He didn’t even tell Dick when it happened. Dick had to find out about Jason’s death on his own with the Titans. He wasn’t even invited to the funeral.
And now here Dick is, bringing another child to Wayne Manor as if that place is anything but a glamorized bear trap. If Tim knew the full story, he’d realize why he shouldn’t give a damn about saving Batman because Batman can’t be saved. He doesn’t deserve to be saved. Every instinct in Dick’s body screams at him to turn back and dump Tim on the side of the road. Mostly due to the fact that Tim just keeps yapping.
“There’s a McDonald’s on the highway,” Tim suggests. “I think the McRib is back. Have you tried the McRib?”
Dick pries his gaze off of the road ahead to shoot Tim a glare. “This isn’t a road trip. We’re not stopping for lunch.”
“I have money if you can’t afford it.”
Dick makes an offended noise. “How broke do you think I am?”
Tim shrugs. He’s already distracted himself by playing with the reclining feature on his seat. “I went to your apartment. It was kinda messy inside. My parents have the number for a really good cleaning service. I think they do discounts.”
Dick nearly plows them into a highway divider. “You broke into my apartment?” Who the hell is this kid? Do parents not watch their children anymore these days? Dick knows he doesn’t exactly come from the most nurturing background, but he at least had some supervision while growing up. He’s torn between calling Alfred to hide the valuables on a high shelf before they get there, and calling the police.
Tim shrugs again like he doesn’t see anything wrong with what he said. “You didn’t even deadbolt the door. Guess you left in a hurry after the news broke about the circus, huh? I saw Starfire’s place too, actually, but I didn’t go inside. I left once she said you weren’t there.” He pauses, bringing his seat back up all the way. “She’s pretty.”
Dick keeps his glare fixed firmly on the road. “Yes, she is.”
“Is she really your girlfriend? The news said she is. You could move into her building, in that case. It’s a lot nicer than yours. You’d have to get better at cleaning up, though.” Tim pointedly kicks a soda can with his sneaker, among other trash and debris that Dick tossed into the passenger footwell and forgot about. The backseat is even worse.
“Why don’t we play the Quiet Game?” Dick suggests. “It’s really fun, you’ll love it.”
Tim scowls. “I’m not five.”
“Oh? Could’ve fooled me.”
Wisely, Tim doesn’t take the bait. The next hour passes in blissful silence as they approach Gotham. Tim makes himself useful by picking up the trash at his feet and stuffing it all into an old Big Belly Burger takeout bag. Dick finally bites the bullet and texts Alfred to inform him that Dick will be coming home for an impromptu visit, plus a guest.
Dick and Bruce haven’t been on speaking terms for over a year, but Alfred checks in with Dick weekly. He sends care packages every month with food and basic necessities because he’s convinced himself that Dick has been living in squalor without Alfred around to take care of him. He’s mostly wrong.
“You shouldn’t text while driving,” Tim pipes up.
Dick ignores him and sends the message off.
“Can you turn up the A/C?” Tim asks.
Dick is sweltering hot, but spitefully, he replies, “No.” Then he feels the need to ask, “What kind of a kid goes around taking pictures of vigilantes anyway?”
“The kind of kid who knows how not to get caught doing it.” The cockiness in his voice would be amusing if he weren’t the size of a schnauzer and ten pounds dripping wet.
“Your parents really have nothing to say about their kindergartener wandering around Gotham City alone?”
Tim brushes off the jab and starts to roll down his window. “Nah. They don’t notice me much.”
Dick rolls the window back up and turns on the child lock, just to be petty. “What do your parents do?”
“They founded Drake Industries,” Tim says. “They do archaeological work, so they travel around the world a lot. They’ve done business with Mr. Wayne’s company a few times, actually. They’re really busy.”
Dick vaguely recognizes the company name, but he never knew much about it or cared. He doesn’t know much about the Drakes, period, apart from the fact that they exist. He’s seen them at the occasional Wayne party, but they never made enough of an impression for their faces to stick. Dick didn’t even know they had a son. “Are they home now?”
“Nope, so don’t try dropping me off at home instead of taking me to Wayne Manor like you promised, or else I’ll tell the cops you kidnapped a minor and took him across state lines.”
“Jesus, calm down. I’m not about to let a kid who knows Batman’s secret identity out of my sight without interrogating him first. We’re going to the manor, I promise you that. Bruce will figure out what to do with you from there.” Dick pauses. “Where are you supposed to be right now? I assume you have a babysitter.”
Considering how much this kid obviously adores Batman and Robin, it’s unlikely that he would risk his idols’ identities by letting anyone else in on his findings, but Dick can’t disregard the possibility yet. For all he knows, Tim might have spread the word to all of his schoolyard friends to boost his popularity. Better to assume the worst until he gets the full story.
“Boarding school. Not telling you which one, though.” Tim leans an elbow against the window, pillowing his chin on his hand. “My parents drop me off whenever they have to leave town for a while.”
“I’m guessing that’s often?”
Tim shrugs, staring out the window at the passing treeline. His voice has lost its pep. “Kinda.”
If there’s one thing Dick understands well, it’s absent parents. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Tim says, even if his tone gives Dick the impression that it very much isn’t okay. “They’re important people. They have better things to do than hang around with a kid all day. And it works out better this way, right? No one’s waiting up for me, so I can do what I want. It’s how I found you.”
Dick rolls his eyes. “Right, so I can become Robin again. Look, kiddo, I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing, but it’s not going to happen. I’m a grown-up now. I’ve moved on. I’m not staying in Gotham. I only plan on sticking around long enough to hand you over to Bruce, and then I’m going the hell back home.”
“He’s your dad, though, isn’t he? You have to at least talk to him.”
“He’s not my dad.” Dads love their kids. They encourage them, they nurture them. They don’t fire their children from the only thing in their life that made sense all because of one mistake. The only thing Bruce cares about is control, and Dick refuses to let himself get stuck under the bastard’s thumb again. The Titans are Dick’s family now. He’s outgrown Batman. “He was my mentor once, but that was a long time ago. He’s not good for anyone anymore.”
Tim is quiet for a long moment while he chews his lip. “Are you just saying that because of Jason?”
“Do not talk to me about Jason,” Dick snarls with unexpected ferocity. “You weren’t there. You don’t know any of us. You think you get it because you’ve watched some news reels and clipped a few articles? You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I know enough. I know that Bruce needs you.”
“Ha! Bruce never needed me. He doesn’t even like me.” If Bruce gave a shit about Dick, why didn’t he pick up the phone? Why did he punch Dick and call him a mistake, too blinded by his own pain to care that he was driving away the only son he had left?
“He needs someone,” Tim insists. He’s too much like Dick when he was Tim’s age—naive, optimistic, stupid. It’s all the same thing. And it isn’t even Tim’s fault, just like it wasn’t Dick’s or Jason’s. Kids are just like that. They believe in fairytales. “He’s going to kill himself if we don’t do something. You know that, right? He’s going to get himself killed on purpose.”
“Bruce Wayne is a very disturbed man, Tim. He’s a hero, but he’s a broken one, and he’s going to drag everyone else in his life right down with him. If you were smarter, you’d stay away from him.”
Tim shakes his head, defiant. Stupid. “I can’t. I have to help him.”
If Dick didn’t know better, he’d almost be impressed at Tim’s unwillingness to back down. But Dick knows intimately how that can be the very thing that gets him killed. “Why you?” Dick asks finally. “Why not someone else?”
“Because I’m the only one who cares enough to try.”
And damn it, maybe Tim is stupid and naive. Maybe he’s too young to see all the flaws that hide beneath the cowl. But so was Dick, once. So was Jason.
Dick sighs. He spots a sign for a rest stop half a mile ahead and signals to shift over to the right lane. “Whatever. I need coffee.”
Tim perks up immediately. “There’s a McDonald’s ahead.”
“Fine. But if you get barbecue sauce on my seats, I’m leaving you on the side of the road.”