Story Synopsis: One year after Red Robin #1, someone wants Tim home.
“The Knight-Errant”
This was not happening. It just wasn’t.
“Timothy Wayne?”
He was in
And yet, an American stood behind him, and from his power suit, tie, and sunglasses, Tim knew him to be more than a wayward tourist.
“Who wants to know?” Tim demanded.
The man dropped his sunglasses with a gentle smile. “Agent Barker, Central Intelligence Agency. You have to come with me.”
Tim didn’t even furl an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because you’re on the F.B.I.’s most wanted list.”
…
“Say what?”
He wasn’t. He couldn’t have been because in the next twelve hours, he wasn’t cuffed once. His bag wasn’t even searched, and they even fed him McDonald’s. He simply found himself shuffled from one agent to another, thrown on a plane, and sent back to the States. They watched him closely as if he was a flight risk, even placed their hands on their guns a few times just to remind him they wore the pieces, but the entire situation seemed surreal.
What was really going on?
No one could answer that question, and he suspected the agents didn’t even know but were just told to transport him.
When he finally stepped out of the
plane in
“Timothy
“That’s what my license says.”
The man put out his hand. “Jonah
Silver. I went to
Tim blinked. Bruce had attended
“Is there a specific reason you
pulled me out
“Oh, it’s about to get so hot, your skin will burn off.”
They rode for a little while in a black sedan before they reached an office building, where Tim was led inside and up an elevator. When he emerged on the fifteen floor, he opened his mouth to break the silence, but Silver put out his hand and spoke as they walked.
“Your father was a good man, Tim. I
wish he would have continued his education at
“…Thank you, sir.”
“I believe you have the same fire within you that he did. If you ever feel the inkling to become an agent, give me a call.” He handed the boy a card. “I’ll convince you.”
“Is that what this is about, sir?”
Tim scoffed, stopping just before a door with a square window and two armed
guards on either side. “You pulled me out of
Silver laughed and opened the door.
“No, boy. A year ago, you ran away from home and haven’t been heard from since.
Your guardian was worried and wanted to find you, so he called the police. With
such a high profile case, the commissioner called the F.B.I., and well, we
called C.I.A. operatives in
His guardian was worried? What would make Alfred worry? Nothing worried—
The implications of that thought was enough to spur Tim into the office. It looked like Silver’s own with a maroon carpet, mahogany desk, and matching bookcases. A few black leather chairs loitered about the room, but the view out the window of the Mall stole Tim’s breath.
Or perhaps it was the man standing with his back to him, staring at it as well.
Short, raven hair fell handsomely upon the man’s crown, while a black leather trench coat plunged off the man’s shoulders and stopped just before the floor. His jeans and turtleneck sweater were members of the Gucci persuasion, and if just for a moment, Tim allowed himself to envision Bruce there, who engaged legitimate methods to bring his lost son home.
Then Tim realized the man stood a good four inches shorter than Bruce. His father seemed to like brown trench coats better than black because he wore black suits and wanted to accent his clothing. Bruce wouldn’t have caught dead wearing jeans—and he wasn’t—and above all that, his adoptive father would have given his patented half-grin when he turned.
Richard Grayson didn’t even smirk.
“Thank you for bringing my brother
back to the States, Agent Silver. I don’t know what he was thinking by
traveling to
“Not a problem, Mr. Grayson. Just yell when you’re done.”
“Thanks.”
The door shut behind them, and Dick shed his jacket to sit upon the very edge of the desk. “Hello, Tim. Long time, no see.”
Long time, no see?
LONG TIME, NO SEE?
Tim threw his duffle of his shoulder. “Are you freakin’ serious? You got the entire F.B.I. on my ass for a chat!”
Not even a twitch. “To be fair, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the whole FBI. Just Agent Silver and a few of his C.I.A. friends. He told people different stories and somehow found you.”
Tim shook his head. “Why? You could have found me easier than the suits if you wanted.”
“Yeah, probably, but then we wouldn’t have been able to have this aforementioned chat. You would have screamed some very not nice words and ran.”
“Oh, I still plan to run.” Tim swiped his bag off the floor and stormed toward the door. No way in Hell was going to stand here and listen to St. Richard preach—
“Go ahead, but just to let you know, those guards out there will hold you at gunpoint until you calm down and come back in here.”
Tim’s hand froze just before the door handle. “You can’t hold me here against my will. I know my rights.”
“See? That’s where you are wrong.” Dick stood with a brief sigh. “As your legal guardian, I can pretty much hold you wherever I want as long as I don’t physically restrain you. One of the perks of having legal custody.”
“I’m eighteen at midnight.”
“Which means I have a grand total of—” He glanced down at his watch. “—oh, look, three hours still left on my legal custody clock. Funny how that worked, huh?”
No way. There was no way Tim would sit in this tiny office for the next three hours and listen to Dick bitch about how he wasn’t wrong to give Damian the suit and Tim should just understand. Well, Tim was tired of understanding and of losing people. He was tired of being life’s punching bag, and he would fight back.
Yet he couldn’t figure a way out of this. If he broke the window—and he physically could—Dick would stop him. If he went out the door, those guards would stop him. He could take them, but more would just show up.
Oh, to Hell with it. They couldn’t stop him, and Dick wouldn’t let them shoot.
He grabbed the door handle.
“Oh, by the way, I’m sorry to hear about your financial difficulties.”
He had over fifty million in the bank. He just checked just yesterday. “What are you talking about?”
Now, Dick stood and headed over to the wet bar. “Your bank accounts were wiped clear, I hear. Terrible things just happen in this economy, and well—I guess you’re going to have to get a job now, aren’t you?”
Oh, Dick wouldn’t have…He couldn’t have…
His bag thumped to the floor again. “What did you do?”
The smirk finally breached Dick’s face as he turned with two cokes. “Just to recap—that money is the sum of what Jack Drake and Bruce left you, and it’s being held by Wayne Trust. Wayne Trust is owned by Wayne Enterprises, which I own—majority speaking. According to Bruce’s Last Will and Testament—I have a copy of it here, if you’d like to reference it—I don’t have to give you a cent until your twenty-first birthday.”
“Y—You—You stole my money?”
“Stole is such an ugly word.” Dick took a seat behind the desk and leaned back. “I like interned. Let’s go with that.”
Tim balled his fists and looked away. No, his money wasn’t what was really being held hostage. He was the victim with Dick giving him no other options but to sit down and listen.
“You’re becoming more and more like him in the suit,” Tim growled as he sat down in the chair across from the desk.
Dick raised his glass. “Considering you’re out there looking for Bruce, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t meant as such.”
“I don’t really care.”
“What do you want, Dick?”
“Three hours, that’s it.” He took a sip of his coke. “You give me the next three hours to get you to talk to me like your brother, and I’ll let you go.”
Tim grabbed the cup. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
A cough
burst from Dick’s throat, and he put down his cup to breathe deeply. “Nothing to
talk about?” he croaked. “TIM! You were in
“So?”
“So? It’s the place where they send reporters to work camps and young, teenage boys into the fields!”
“So? You went there with the Outsiders.”
“And got my ass whipped so badly that Bruce had to come and save me and Sasha.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t need Bruce to save my ass.”
“No, just me.”
Tim narrowed his eyes. “You passed on that job, and you chose the demon spawned over me.”
“The demon spawned is your brother.”
“No he’s not!”
“See, that’s your problem!” Dick, too, slammed his hands upon the desk, and the tranquility he exuded vanished in a single moment, replaced by raging anger. “You came from a family where you were the only child, but when Bruce adopted you, you became a middle child. I’m sorry, but it’s true, and damnit if this family doesn’t have sibling rivalry!”
“He’s just—”
“Do you see me as your brother, Tim?”
“Oh, don’t even go—”
“Am I? Seriously, because brothers back each other up.”
“Oh, and just how were you backing me up by giving my…” His voice lowered, and he looked about the small office. “Are there—”
“Cameras and bugs imbedded in anything and everything—yeah,” Dick replied.
Tim nodded thoughtfully. “Gotcha,” before, “—giving up my job to that little bastard?”
“You didn’t need it!”
“And who are you to say what I need and don’t need?”
Dick fisted his hands in his hair. “Oh, do not tell me we’re doing this again.”
“Hey, you’re the one who called this meeting. Remember?”
Letting out a low sigh, Dick slowly raised his eyes to meet Tim’s blazing ones. “Tim, Damian is a sociopath, but he’s my responsibility now. I need to make sure that he reforms.”
“By what? Taking me out of the picture?”
“Tim, did you completely miss the part where I said I need you?”
“Need me? To do what? Wash the ‘mobile?”
“Nah, it’s character-building for Damian.”
An evil grin forged upon his lips. “I’d pay money to see that.”
“You could watch it for free.”
And it fell. “Why? Why would I ever want to go back to see the little bastard who—”
“Does that mean you’ll never come
back to
Tim blinked and stared out at the sun as it dipped below the horizon. “If I don’t find Bruce, what would be the point?”
“The point?” Dick repeated. “The
point is: You’re my brother, Tim. Your home is
“No.”
“No?”
“No, you don’t get to do that!” Tim
swiped his hand out and began back into the room. “You had your chance for me
to be in
“God, Tim, how many times do we have to go over this? Bruce and I already taught you most of what you need to know. There would have been no point in you staying under me as my squire.”
“Other than the fact that it would have been something I wanted, but what I want doesn’t matter, does it?”
Dick’s head recoiled; his head cocked to the side. “Wait. What?”
Embarrassment immediately darkened
Tim’s cheeks, and he waved his hand as if to disperse the question. “Nothing.
Never mind. Are we done here?”
. “No and no. Dial that back.
What do you say?”
“I don’t know, but I did not say, ‘Dial that back.’ My God, Dick, that’s so—”
“Tim.”
Tim wanted to kick himself. Why did he say that? Why the hell couldn’t he keep his mouth shut? And why the hell didn’t he now?
“You know why I became…Bruce’s business associate, didn’t you?”
“Because you said Bruce needed one, and you were right.”
“I did it because I wanted to be like my idol,” Tim eased as he collapsed back in the chair. “Look, being…Bruce’s business associate was freakin’ awesome, okay? It really was, but Dick—I’ve known you my entire life. I used to follow your career when you were a kid—like, forever ago.”
“Watch it,” Dick teased, sitting down in the chair.
“And the chance to follow in your footsteps was something I could not pass up, and then when you took over as Batman the first time—it was good.”
“Yeah,” Dick remembered with a reminiscent smile. “It was.”
“And when you said we’d be okay after that battle with Shiva, I thought—I thought we would be, and I would finally be your squire because if there was one person out there who would stick by me, it would be you. But even you—you chose Damian over me.”
“It wasn’t like—”
“Then what was it like, Dick? Because he’s demon spawned, you have the right to throw me out.”
“I didn’t—”
“Then what did you do?”
Dick looked straight into Tim’s eyes. “I realized you grew up.”
Tim averted his eyes. “Lame—”
“Look, you think this has been easy for me? Seriously, you think I want demon-spawned as my squire ? Granted, the kid’s getting good, but he’s still the little psychopath the League of Assassins managed to raise. Not to mention, he still hasn’t forgiven me.”
“Forgiven you?” Tim scoffed. “For what?”
“Look at it from his point of view for one moment,” Dick practically pleaded. “You were adopted by Bruce at sixteen, Jason at thirteen, but Bruce took me in at eight.” He raised his hand before Tim could breathe. “I’m not saying that makes me Bruce’s favorite son or anything like that because he loved us all equally.”
“Except for Jason, maybe.”
“I’m just saying,” Dick emphasized, standing to look out the window
again—perhaps back toward
Tim crossed his arms. “And you feel that makes you wrong for having that relationship with Bruce?”
“No, I just think it makes Damian angry and perhaps rightly so.”
“Oh, that should not be said in the same sentence.”
“He’s grown, Tim. He’s wiser now, more patient—granted not by much, but still—”
Tim’s arms slowly fell to his side. “And what? That’s supposed to make me like him now? Forgive him for trying off me and for hating me and—”
“I’m sorry…”
Tim took a deep, cleansing breath and smirked. “Good. About time you apologized.”
“No, not for taking Damian as Robin but for failing you.” Dick took a step back and appraised Tim with a melancholy eyes. “I remember the boy who used to idolize me. I remember the boy I met at the circus, and this—this isn’t him. You’ve lost yourself.”
“No. I lost two fathers, a few best friends, a girlfriend—”
“And you forgot everything he taught you.” Dick leaned over the desk, his dark eyes peering directly into Tim’s soul. “Family comes first.”
“Back at you.”
“I didn’t chose him over—”
“Yes. You. Did.”
They stood apart, a desk between them, the silence so loud it broke each’s heart. Only a muted scream managed to break it.
“…and I will never forget you for that.”
“And I will forgive you for leaving.”
Tim’s head shot up. “WHAT—”
“You keep spouting like this has
been easy for me, Tim. Newsflash: You might not like Damian, but I’ve had to deal with him. I had to grab
him by the scruff of his hood and toss him back in the ‘mobile when he ran
away. I had to deal with his rotten attitude and the crime surge in
“With Alfred and your precious little demon.”
A hand lunged at Tim to seize him by the chin and hold him fast. “I’m only going to say this once, so you listen well. Whatever you want to believe it or not, Damian needs to be my associate.”
“Oh, for crying out—”
The hand hardened. “I will always love Jason, Tim. He’s my little brother, despite how delusional and homicidal he is, but that didn’t mean when you came along, I couldn’t love you, too. The same with Damian. Just because I love him doesn’t mean I’ll stop loving you. “
Tim squirmed under the emotions crashing down upon his heart and tried to pull away, but Dick kept firm.
“Damian has no one, Tim. His mother abandoned him after the fight in Arkham. He doesn’t listen to Alfred, and he tried to kill you. I’m the only one who can for some reason talk some sense into this kid and teach him right from wrong. Being R will help that, but being R was something different for you. It gave you confidence. It gave you a purpose in life and kept a good little rich boy from going bad, but more importantly, it gave you a family. I don’t give a shit about R, Tim. R was nothing more than a façade you hid behind when life got hard.
“I will always love and always need Tim.”
He took back his hand, and Tim slowly rubbed his chin, positive that Dick’s knuckle prints would forever been imbedded there.
But he didn’t care. He simply stared into Dick’s eyes, captive by the warmth within them that suddenly turned cold.
“And when I needed you the most, when I needed someone to be on my side and support me in my greatest time of need, you left.” He took his trench coat from the chair and pulled it over his shoulders. “You decided to embark upon the journey to find Bruce Wayne, and I think—I think a small part of you is looking for Tim Drake.”
“You took away the last shred of him.”
Dick pulled out a small box from his pocket and placed it on the table. “If I had, RR would had have used the laser in my pocket to cut a whole through the window to let himself out. Instead, you sat here and listened to what I had to say, which tells me somewhere stuck in that big, bad superhero is still my little brother, who I miss terribly. That’s the real reason why I let you go on this journey.”
“Let?” Tim snorted. “I don’t care what you told those agents. You’re not my legal guardian. Alfred is, so you can just—”
Slapping down a folded paper on the table, Dick didn’t smirk or crack a smile. He simply glowered, his face a complete mimic of Bruce’s glare without the cowl.
“Read it and weep, kiddo.”
Oh. God.
“For the next two hours and twenty-six minutes,” Tim snapped. “But it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m going to find Bruce, and when I do—”
“I never
froze your assets. I was just messing with you, and you never have to worry
about that. I wouldn’t. A private jet has been reserved in your name for
Tim stared hard out the window, where night had already fallen, and closed his eyes. “He’s all I have left.”
With his back to Tim, Dick opened the door. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but it’s not true.” He turned back quickly. “Oh, and by the way—happy birthday.”
Tim sat there for a long time, and no one bothered him. After he read through Bruce’s will and discovered Dick was correct—Bruce left Dick both he and Damian—he had a staring match with the box. Finally, he decided it won and opened it to find a key.
*^*^*
Batarangs—not his Red Robin discs.
A laptop, a handheld, and a new WayneTech Flyr phone—all with upgrades from Oracle.
Boa staffs, escrima sticks, a new motorcycle—with a blue stripe and Batman insignia on the side—modified just slightly.
Batgranades, batzookas, batlines...
Everything
he could ever think of in his own bunker under the
Now Dick was being facetious.
The new WayneTech Flyr buzzed, and Tim walked over to it. On the front blinked, “Incoming Call” with a number he didn’t know, but he picked up it anyway.
“…Hello?”
“Mr. Wayne?”
All right, but that still sounded like Bruce’s name. “I guess so.”
“Sherri Wellington. I’m a niece of Alfred Pennyworth.”
Niece? Alfred’s old Scotland Yard brethren were known as cousins. Could she be connected that way as well? He finally asked such.
“You could say that, my good lad.”
Lad? She didn’t sound much older than him!
“Now, I have a plane here at the
As Sherri spoke, Tim saw the black Kevlar where the phone had sat, and balancing his phone with his shoulder, he lifted the black cape. Underneath it was the uniform with a blue stripe across his chest and down both his arms along with a belt with a bat insignia.
Sherri
continued to rant even as Tim saw something flitter down from the belt—a
picture. He recognized it immediately as one he and Dick took in front of the
Heavy Stone Café in
But it had
worked out. They had one last showdown in
Everything had been okay.
He flipped over the picture.
“Everything’s going to be okay, Tim,” Dick had written. “Trust me, will you?”
Tim dropped the phone from his ear.
*^*^*
“—too lenient on him! His entails should have—”
In his chair at the Batcomputer, Dick glared upward at the boy sitting to his left on the console.
Immediately, Damian rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “The real world—though I still protest this not to be such—is backwards in its execution of punishment.”
A soft smile crossed Dick’s face before he directed his attention back to the monitor. “You’re looking at the situation from only your point of view. Put yourself in Darth Vader’s boots for one moment. The love of your life has died. You believe your unborn children to have died with her. Of course you’re going to be angry.”
“But that doesn’t mean that he has to go and destroy the entire universe for—what? Stop that!”
But Dick couldn’t stop the grin from forming on his face. Damian didn’t think Darth Vader should have taken revenge upon the entire universe for his loss. Granted, he still wanted to kill Darth Vader, but they were making progress.
“Will you stop that?”
Buzz!
Buzz!
Dick looked over from the Batcomputer’s monitor to see his Flyr phone vibrate with a new message. Laughing, he motioned toward the Batmobile.
“What’s today?”
He didn’t need to look up to know the scowl that reminded him too much of Bruce’s. “Thursday.”
“And it’s past eight, and you have yet to do your chores. If you want to go out on patrol, I suggest you get moving.”
Damian growled some nasty curses Dick didn’t know, but his boots clinked against the stairs. Smirking to himself, he grabbed his cell phone, leaned back in his chair, and hit “view.”
“
He froze at the number above the message. He seriously hadn’t thought he would hear from the boy at least for a few years, but…Tim had texted him. He quickly caught whatever bearings he still had and typed, “Thax.”
“Still not a compliment,” came the reply.
“Still not caring.”
“U sicced a freakin’ chaperone on me!”
“Valet, thank u very much, and u need someone to keep u out of NK.”
“Tried to fire her, and she says she was hired by u, so I technically can’t.”
“
“Bite me.”
“No thax.”
Three minutes passed, and Dick almost thought he wouldn’t get another reply.
Suddenly:
“I miss
“
“Thanks for the gear, but I chose RR’s uniform because it wouldn’t be connected 2 u.”
“U R connected to me. My knight-errant.”
“
“D’s my squire; u r my knight-errant who goes on missions 4 the B-man.”
“Finding B is my own mission.”
“U keep thinking that.”
If he only admitted it to himself, Dick had inadvertently set Tim on this mission. By giving Tim his independence, he had given the boys the tools and the knowledge.
Maybe he was more like Bruce than he thought.
Maybe he finally understood why Bruce tried to control them.
Just maybe.
“U were B’s knight-errant as NW?” Tim asked.
“B sent me
2 Blud & being connected 2 me saves
“I still don’t know about taking the name. Isn’t Chris Kent NW?”
“Talked 2 Supes, Chris. As much my name as theirs and the legend meant a lot to me @ the time. Maybe it could mean the same thing 2 u.”
“But it doesn’t apply 2 me.” A second later: “I wasn’t cast out.”
Dick let out a deep breath. “I should’ve handled it better.”
“We both could’ve.” A pause. “I still think B’s alive.”
“Good. Find him.”
“I’ll be back.”
“Thanksgiving
if u don’t find him before then. I’ll keep
“I was wondering where my bed was.”
“Thanksgiving, then. Be here or I’ll find u this time. Trust me. You don’t want that.”
“
“Thax.”
“
Dick lowered the phone for a moment. “Hey, Damian. The Batmobile got a little dirty last night fighting Clayface. Think you can give it a wash, too?”
The boy jumped up from the tire he was rotating. “That’s Monday night!”
“I’ll make you a deal. You wash tonight, I’ll get Batgirl to wash this Monday.”
Grumbling, Damian headed for a bucket and sponge.
“I’ll send you the video as soon as he finishes,” Dick texted back before he added, then deleted, then texted again, “We okay?”
BLEEP!
Dick shot up and whirled toward the stairs, where Tim climbed down, his new uniform a nice medium to the bright colors of Damian’s uniform and the dark ones on Dick’s.
He gave Dick a half-grin as he landed. “Yeah, we’re okay.”
The End