Chapter Text
It all started the fall after Timothy Jackson Drake’s ninth birthday. Or perhaps it would be smarter to say that it all started two years before the boy was even born. The day that Janet Drake, only a year into her marriage to Jack Drake, decided that she wanted to try for a child. Unable to say no to his new wife, and her stubborn personality, Jack agreed.
Their troubles started there. After months of trying and no changes to the barren outcome, they turned to the medical field. They both got tested for the known factors and in the end, they discovered that, while Janet was perfectly healthy, Jack had been rendered sterile by things that had happened in his earlier life.
The two were broken hearted to learn this, but their hope was revived when the doctor suggested the use of a sperm bank. Janet started to look into obtaining ‘the perfect match’ in order to be assured that the child she would have from the procedure would be healthy. She discovered a cozy little clinic in northern Montana, sequestered snugly on the border of Canada. She spent another couple of months in contact with the clinic until she was able to lock in an appointment that satisfied both Jack and the doctors at the clinic.
Online and over the phone the clinic had seemed like the best bet and at first, in person it had also passed both Drake’s suspicions. The procedure was quick, but it took a lot of talking and excuses for the clinic to release Janet to go home. In the end, the happy couple was given their donor’s basic health information and let go after being promised that the two would keep in contact as the pregnancy progressed.
Then the two flew back to Gotham and life continued until nine months later. Janet Drake gave birth to Timothy Drake, a beautiful baby boy with a dark head of hair and blue eyes that matched his mother’s. Even though they didn’t show it, both parents were relieved that the boy could pass easily as Jack’s son, since neither had wanted to admit needing help.
As Tim grew older and more curious of everything around him, Janet realized that she had liked the idea of a child and now that she had to be a mother, it wasn’t as appealing. It wasn’t hard for her to convince Jack to leave Tim with a nanny and resume their travels. It burned every time she left, because her son would just stare at her with a sad, knowing look. And little did they both know at the time, but when they eventually figured out their love for their son, it would be too late.
But enough of the backstory of the kid’s parents. We don’t care about them. They’re the typical ‘work before anything else’ types and don’t deserve Tim. Ahem, back to the story.
The weeks after Tim turned nine were filled with agony and the smell of sickness as the boy had come down with what seemed to be a late summer flu. Luckily his nanny had been present when he had first come down with the illness because his parents hadn’t even bothered to come home for his birthday this year. Tim had experienced that disappointment enough over his short life that he wasn’t mad about that. No, he was more upset with the fact that he couldn’t go out and explore with the brand-new camera his absent parents had sent him.
Tim barely remembered anything from those two weeks, other than wishing he wouldn’t wake up to another day of hacking out a lung. Then it was like a switch was flipped and one morning he was perfectly fine. He was covered in sweat like his fever had broken during the night, but his lungs sounded clear, and he could breathe evenly. He was still too young to realize that normally, a child coming out of a two weeklong flu would need time to readjust and regain strength. Instead, he felt ready to hit the roofs of Gotham’s nights.
The moment his nanny left him for the week, Tim calibrated his camera and slipped into some dark clothes and took off into the darkness of Gotham. He pulled out a small radio and a pair of headphones and scanned for mentions of the ones he wanted to photograph. He caught a small snippet of something happening at the Iceberg lounge and made his way there. He arrived at the tail end of the fight and made sure to turn his flash off as he took as many photos as he could of Batman and Robin.
Then he watched in shock as Robin completed a quadruple somersault and was blasted back into his memories.
‘Hey kiddo! I’ll dedicate this performance for you!’
‘Now introducing! THE FLYING GRAYSONS! The only humans in the world to ever complete their signature QUADRUPLE SOMERSAULT!’
‘Oh my god! Jack! Cover his eyes!’
Tim shook himself out of the flashback and pressed himself into the shadows of the water tower on the roof. He stared at the camera in his hands and tried to calm himself down. His mind worked overtime and clicked puzzle pieces together. He quickly slipped his camera back in its bag and took off towards the safety of his home. He was frazzled enough that he slipped at one point and felt a searing he shoot through his calf, but the pain faded as adrenaline raced through his veins and he didn’t stop to think about it until he was in his room.
He looked down at his ripped pant leg and winced when he saw the blood around the tear. He grabbed his med kit from under his bed and opened it before pulling his pant leg up, only to freeze. He grabbed a wet towel and wiped the blood away, expecting to feel pain from a wound that should be there. Instead, he cleaned the red away from smooth and unmarked skin. He sucked in a breath as his world halted around him.
He had learned three things that night. The first being that Robin had completed a flawless quad-somersault, which meant that he was Dick Grayson. The second followed the first, because if Robin was Dick, then Batman had to be Bruce Wayne. And the third, and most terrible discovery, especially for a kid growing up in Gotham, was that he was a Meta.