Tim Drake had never been anything to a lot of people and yet everything to other people. He had been a son and a child. A child left to the streets of Gotham that fell to his own demise. That saw things he should have never seen and won in the end proving everyone right. Things always went as he said they would. Landing him in precarious positions of both infamy and drowning.
Tim Drake was the little photographer boy who had the world in his hands as he discovered who Batman was at the young age of nine. Who watches Jason as Robin with stars in his eyes and awe on his lips. Jason had been his Robin. The little boy from the Alley that he resonated with in such a stupid way because they were so very different.
Tim Drake came from money. Good money versus bad money made no difference but he had a roof over his head and food on his plate and maybe that had been the origins of the start of the disdain many had for him in his ways and the one and only Bruce Wayne adopting the poor orphan boy who everyone assumed had killed his own parents.
Tim had been abandoned for a while at that point and while Bruce Wayne had taken him in it hadn’t been a true place to call home either.
It wasn’t as if he sought attention. Not intentionally. He has hid his escapades of taking photos. He hid his mourning for his Robin. He hid his worst nightmares. His worst fears. Going into middle school he hid behind his grades and learned how to make himself into a perfect son but no one paid attention to him even then. Well, no one important that is. He had all the makings of a great CEO. A great financial martyr even. Tim was destined to run the Drake family business born and raised in a pent up manor on the edge of town. Transitioned to CEO of Wayne enterprises at age 17. Long since his parents passing.
His parents that he had hid the scars from. The stitches from knives that went too deep. Makeup to cover the eyebags from the days he would go without sleep. Days he would go without food. Running on caffeine and spite and desperation because maybe if Timothy Drake pushed himself harder he might garner the attention of someone better around him.
Tim had wanted to be Robin… that part had been true from the beginning as most things he wants he gets and maybe that was the secretly stashed and hiding nepo baby part of him. Tim made it known that he knew that Bruce Wayne was Batman and maybe to their eyes that all but made him a threat. Then Bruce got himself stuck in the Timestream and no one f*cking believed him.
That made him angry and upset and so to prove everyone wrong of course he went after him. Of course he sought out the Batman even as Dick Greyson pushed him away calling him misguided. A child with no proper training. No proper technology and so he told him that he needed a Robin. That Dick Greyson wasn’t capable of doing this sh*t alone and Dick Greyson was hesitant, and so he gave him the suit. Low and behold Tim brought Batman back from death miraculously.
No one rewarded him truly.
He got a slap on the wrist for scaring his mother. A switch to his back that left deep lashes and a black eye from his father.
“Look at you ruining the family image!”
“What a disgrace!”
In his head he’d been calling himself a Wayne far sooner right? Far sooner was he to call himself Drake-Wayne before his parents passed away. Tim Drake played the fool then. He played the fool a lot if it meant that he might earn himself more freedom from their friends who forced themselves on Tim in quiet corners of the galas. Forced him to his knees. Forced his pants down—
But his parents knew about that one. Encouraged the relationships. “Better for business” they said as he gagged.
Tim lied to both parties. No one ever believed him. He could prove them wrong over and over and they would never believe him. Tim became Robin to save Batman but even as he forced himself to Batman’s side to prove himself and stop him from becoming the monster everyone feared he could be after Jason they all were losing themselves and maybe Tim had never found himself to begin with. Maybe the Young Justice team had been created to get Tim off Bruce’s back.
Maybe when Kon died someone should have reached out to Timothy Drake-Wayne. the quiet one adopted. Maybe someone should have checked up on the notoriously sleepless boy who ran his dealings and businesses in the shadows of night and still looked impeccable for meetings. Meetings he rarely was needed at. Rarely for him to be called for.
Timothy had found his one good person with that group. Eventually Cassie had betrayed them and left and Bart moved in with Barry to be near Wally and so they could train and work together and so it was Tim all alone. Over and over again he tried and over and over again he failed. He could hear the malice filled tongue of his father fill his head.
Attempt #22 failed.
Glass being thrown across the room in rage and he could hear it.
“You are a Drake! You are higher than anyone else and yet you still fail me like this?”
“Come on Tim. I’ve shown you this 10 times, do better.”
This was before the worst points of his life because at least.. at least Tim had had Kon when Jason came back. Revealing himself to the family as Red Hood and yet all he had been called was Replacement. Bile and acid on his tongue spitting vile words and insults to him underneath his breath. Anger simmering in poison sacs ready for Jason to sink his veins and ruin him with venom and finally take good ole Timmy boy down.
Jason, who shoved him through a wall and broke two of his ribs and dislocated his arm and sprained his ankle as he collapsed on the floor pulling himself off the ground insisting to fight but no. He didn’t need to fight because who could beat Red Hood when you have the barrel of a gun pressed against your forehead and seeing the bright red of the safety turned off as you stare down it nursing your wounds.
Soaking in the pain like a cat or like you have a little small tinsy winsy scratch. He just needed to lick his wounds right? Let him get just injured enough to keep him out of duty for a smidge longer but of course why would Timothy Drake-Wayne do that.
More of his mind slipped to the bitter realization that Jason had been his Robin. The man that inspired him and gave him the hope to continue and yet here they were. Tim at the end of a barrel and Jason staring at him all the same.
Yet guess who got the stern talking to when discovered.
If wasn’t the egotistical maniac back from the dead and hellbent on revenge.
At least Tim had had Kon when Damian Wayne showed up. The super appeared by his side in the hospital after the little bastard slit his throat and did more damage than they could just remedy. No one came to visit him that day except Alfred. Alfred brought warm soup and cooled down tea and sat with him for a long while. Tim relishing in the fact that he wouldn’t be able to sleep soundly for a while, as if anyone ever noticed his poor sleeping habits before they most certainly would not be noticing them now. Not could Tim even think about confronting the deep thoughts within his head the nightmares.
His father was wheelchair bound and it was then when he was deemed unfit to take care of himself that he came into Bruce’s custody.
Kon had fallen asleep on Tim’s bed. The man there when Tim woke up from his nightmare fueled dreams. It wasn’t just in the hospital as Tim couldn’t talk and came through with strangled cries and tears shaking and Kon had never questioned him about his nightmares. Instead Kon had held him close to his chest rubbing small circles into his back.
Kon who always took hold of Tim when he needed him, the two working in tandem over and over and over again.
No ine noticed how badly he struggled. How little sleep he got as Kon slipped from his arms and was killed. He didn’t know if he could do it again. He couldn’t do it again. Tim was tired.
Tim was exhausted and broken. Failure after failure after failure and shaking hands. Alfred is struggling to find him. No one checked up on him and it was then that Tim began to drown.
No Tim became the violent storm. Tired of all that life threw at him. Tired of no one but Alfred caring. No one not even the press cared that his parents died. The only thing they focused on instead was the drop in stocks of the Drake’s company. Tim wasn’t even worth a f*cking article.
Tim didn’t think he was worth anything. Barely holding his head above water and fighting the water in his lungs anyways. A cycle of uncaring.
Then Damian became Robin.
Damian became Robin.
It wasn’t even Bruce that took away his title that took away his suit. It was Dick. The older brother who was light hearted and claimed he loved Tim so much but Dick Greyson had never done ANYTHING for Tim Drake.
Dick Greyson had never once believed in Tim about the time stream.
Dick Greyson who ignored his feelings several times otherwise Batman went missing.
Dick Greyson who teased that Damian should be Robin.
Dick Greyson who made a split second desco soon while Bruce was off planet and fighting with the Justice League.
Dick Greyson who didn’t let him mourn his friend.
Dick Greyson… who pushed him to his limit.
Tim knew a lot of facts.
Like Batman being Bruce Wayne.
Like the fact that the US was one of the only places in the world to use the imperial system.
Like uranium was added to glass for a while for a special glow.
Like the fact that Jupiter was supposed to have been a star.
That hit too close to home.
So here was Tim Drake staring at the bathtub with a batarang in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other. He’d already taken the pills because Tim Drake was not a loser(blood thinners). If he was going to go he was going to succeed.
It wasn’t as if anybody was going to miss him now was it? It wasn’t as if he couldn’t do anything. Bruce and Damian were two countries away and Dick in Bludhaven and Jason off on a mission with the Outlaws. Steph was with Cass training in China. Alfred was out on his weekly shopping trip. Duke was at school.
No one was here.
No one would care anyways. It would be a grave with some bullsh*t words on how they missed him. He had already gotten his will in order. Everything to go to charity. Except the weapon he used to kill himself. That should be kept with his murderers.
So Tim filled the bathtub and sunk into it fully clothed letting the water surround him as he drew the blade across his skin. The bathtub filled up with more liquid and Tim watched the water turn red. Watching it flow out of him with a smile across his face. At least now he could be with Kon.
Mind slipping away. Body slipping under the water.
Tim Drake should have been a Star…
Instead his family failed him and found him a dying planet instead.
“Here lies
Timothy
Drake-Wayne
A good Son”
What bullsh*t indeed.
