Chapter Text
Timothy Jackson Drake died at three years old.
It had been his first time out of the country. It had been their first ever family vacation.
Jack and Janet had been beyond themselves with excitement. They had chosen a small, uninhabited island just a few hours away from the Caribbean. A beautiful island it was, with beautiful beaches and rich historical remains.
The family of three had fallen asleep on the beach the night before, gazing up at the stars.
Timothy woke up first. He stared at his sleeping parents for a while before a flock of seagulls grabbed his attention. The little thing toddled off to play with them.
Jack woke up to his child terrorizing the poor birds. He nudged his wife awake, and they stared at the ridiculous sight with small smiles on their faces.
“We should just stay here forever,” Jack said, his voice hoarse with sleep. “We’d wake up to this every morning and maybe pay the seagulls to be his nannies when we need some alone time.
Janet scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.” But her tone was warm, her eyes soft.
Their domestic morning only lasted a few more minutes before tragedy struck.
Little Timothy had strayed a bit too far for his parents’ comfort, making his way to the rocky part of the beach as he stumbled after the birds. Jack had just gotten up to grab his son when the boy suddenly slipped into a hole.
“Tim!”
The couple ran to where their son had disappeared, quickly squeezing themselves through the hidden opening between the rocks.
It led to a cave, a cave where their only source of light was from the faint sunrise peeking from the small entrance. The place was covered in markings, markings they would have paid more attention to, markings they would have at least taken pictures of had it not been for the sight of their three-year-old child lying still in the middle of the cave.
The two all but crawled to him.
“Oh my god,” Janet gasped as she knelt by his bleeding head.
Jack lifted his boy’s head. “He’s not breathing. Janet, he’s not breathing!”
The two sat there a long time. They shook their son as if trying to wake him up from a nap. They cried. They begged.
But Timothy Jackson Drake didn’t open his eyes. And he never would again.
Something else opened his eyes for him, though. Something ancient. Something young.
It had been waiting for something. It isn’t sure what. It had been waiting for a long time.
When the child fell into its home cave, his memories scattered throughout, leaving it with much information about the outside world. It recognized the child’s kin when they came down. They did not look “happy,” like in the child’s memories. They certainly did not clap their hands.
“Tim, honey. Open your eyes. Please,” Mommy said with water coming from her eyes.
The three were huddled up together. Warm. The child’s memories told it that the family was “hugging” and that it felt “warm.” It had not felt warm ever. It wanted to, though.
Dad’s face had water, too. “Timmers, bud. Can you wake up for Daddy? Please?”
Why wasn’t the child waking up? Dad said please, and he had water in his eyes. When Timothy had water in his eyes and said “please,” Mom and Dad gave him anything he asked for. They did not like it when Timothy had water in his eyes.
It decides that it doesn’t like when Mom and Dad have water in their eyes either. If Timothy won’t be a good kid, then it will.
Timothy’s skin feels weird. It had never had skin before. Nor did it have a body. Years of nothingness made it hard to get used to having to figure out how to move certain parts of the body– its body.
It finally opened its eyes and clumsily smiled at Mom. “Good morning, mommy.” Mom always liked it when Timothy called her Mommy, even though he was getting old enough to call her “Mom” or “Mother” instead.
Janet stared at her child with wide eyes. This wasn’t possible. There was no pulse. Her child had been dead– how? But she couldn’t find it in herself to care for the semantics. She only hugged Tim tighter, ignoring the uneasy feeling trying to climb up her throat.
Jack followed his wife’s example. He held his family tight, vowing to protect them harder from then on.. He ignored the fact that Tim had had no pulse less than a minute ago. He ignored he fact that his son’s body had been limp less than a minute ago. He ignored the way his son smiled and moved like he was just learning how. He ignored the fact that Tim still had no pulse. He ignored the fact that Tim still wasn’t bleeding.
==
The Drakes pretended nothing was amiss. They finished their vacation like normal, pretending it wasn’t odd that they had to teach their son how to walk and talk all over again. They paraded Timothy around Gotham, showing him off to business partners and friends alike. (They never left the boy alone with other children.) They played house for almost a year before it all came crashing down.
Janet always insisted on letting Tim try new things. It would be good for his development, she said. (She didn’t mention how nauseating it felt to watch her son act surprised at things he’s known his whole life.) So, when Jack saw the poster for Haly’s Circus, he quickly got the tickets and gifted them to his son for his birthday.
They were having a good time at the circus. The family had never been to one before, so they made their way to every station and food stand. Mom and Dad even let someone else hold Tim for the first time!
But then the ropes snapped. And the boy who had held Tim was suddenly on his knees, begging his parents to please wake up.
Dad maneuvered himself so that he could kneel in front of Tim, blocking the boy’s sight. Tim looked at its father confusedly. “Why aren’t they getting up?”
“Because they are very badly hurt,” Mom answers, putting her hand over Tim’s shoulder.
“But he’s saying please, and he has tears in his eyes like you did.”
Jack and Janet meet eyes briefly. They do not like to think about that day.
Tim continued, “Is someone gonna wear their skin? Like me?”
The Drakes quickly shuffled out of the circus after that. Jack did not carry Tim on his shoulders like he did when they came.
That night, Janet buried her face in Jack’s chest. “Our son is dead,” she sobbed. “Our son is dead, and that thing is— is...”
“I know. I know,” he stroked his wife’s hair.
“We can’t even give him a proper burial, Jack. We pretended– we pretended– oh, Jack. We’re terrible.”
Jack held his wife as she cried over the loss of their child. He whispered reassurances into her ear. “We’ll find answers, Janet. We’ll get our son back.”
The lies felt like ash on his tongue.
Across the hallway, the thing slept soundly, not knowing that tonight would be like last time, it would be held for years to come.
==
Tim wasn’t sure what he did wrong. Mom and Dad had been avoiding him ever since the Graysons’ fall. They avoided being in the same room as him, and when they were around, they asked him weird questions.
When they left for their archeology dig, they did not hug or kiss him goodbye. They hadn’t held him in weeks.
Dad told him not to hurt anyone or wear anyone else’s skin, which he wouldn’t have done anyway. He likes his body perfectly fine, thank you very much.
Tim haunted the manor in their absence. He found many friends inside the display cases. They were mean sometimes, but he didn’t blame them. He would be mean if he were stuck inside an artifact, too.
Mom and Dad don’t come back for a while.
Eventually, Tim got bored with Drake Manor, and he really wanted to be warm again, so he went looking for the boy his parents had let hold him. If they were fine with it the first time, it would be no problem to seek the boy out for a hug, right?
==
In the end, Tim didn’t walk up to ask Dick Grayson for a hug.
You see, after his parents’ complete disregard for him at the flip of a switch, Tim knows he couldn’t just trust any random human. He decides to study this one before approaching.
It took a few weeks before he determined that he shouldn’t go to Robin for warmth. He was under Batman’s jurisdiction, and Tim had overheard the man saying he hated magic. Tim is magic… probably. There really isn’t much other explanation for why he is wearing Old Tim’s skin. Even if Robin didn’t hate magic like Batman, Tim didn’t wanna get him in trouble with the Bat.
Still, there wasn’t much else to do other than trail after the Bat and his Bird. Tim often spent his evenings out on the street with them. He even stopped crime sometimes! Only if he knew he wouldn’t be caught, of course.
Years passed. Robin became Nightwing, and then there was a New Robin: Jason Todd.
Tim didn’t like Jason at first, but the boy grew on him. He even started to see himself in Jason Todd. They both replaced a beloved person, after all. The only difference is that Jason was actually loved.
And then he died.
And Batman got meaner.
Tim wished he could wear Jason Todd’s skin like it wore Timothy Jackson Drake’s so that Batman wouldn’t be so sad anymore. But alas, humans don’t react well to that. It’s learned its lesson with Mom and Dad.
Months passed.
Tim got an idea on a boring night in the manor.
He may not be able to wear Jason Todd’s skin, but he could wear his costume! Surely, that would make Batman less sad. Mom and Dad probably wouldn’t like him endangering this body, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them.