Only a few words were spoken when Mr. Wayne showed up at the doorstep, decked out in his usual suit-and-tie outfit.

One cordial 'Hello' and a sarcastic gesturing towards a frozen Tim in the far corner of the hallway with a suggestion of 'Take the kid already' made up the whole greeting between his new guardian and Uncle Harold.

"Are you ready to go?" the man asked, filling up the entire doorway with his broad shoulders.

Tim forgot how to nod and did something strange with his fingers instead, but Mr. Wayne understood somehow.

"It was generous of you to give him a place to stay at a time like this," he said, addressing Tim's uncle again. "I really appreciate it."

Uncle Harold shook off the gratitude with a shrug.

"No problem. No one else was going to do it."

The skin around the taller man's eyes tightened for a moment, but he still shook Harold Thompson's hand.

"Thanks, anyways."

Tim had made his way to the two adults at that point and was expecting someone to inform him at any moment that he could not simply leave the house that day with his next-door neighbor.

It seemed so impossible that he was no longer chained there. Something was bound to go wrong the minute he stepped outside.

"I can take that."

He turned quickly and saw that Mr. Wayne had leaned down and was gently tugging the big, heavy suitcase as well as the backpack away from him. Reaching for the small hand that was now free, they made eye contact and Tim felt like he should smile because that was what a normal, eight-year-old orphan would have done after being adopted, but he was too uncomfortable and nervous to fake it.

Fortunately, Mr. Wayne did enough smiling for the both of them instead and grasped his fingers firmly.

"Say goodbye, Tim."

He looked up at his uncle's bushy mustache and thought that he would miss secretly making fun of it in his mind.

"Thank you for letting me stay here," he simply said, wanting to mimic the previous, polite behavior of the adult beside him.

"Yeah," Uncle Harold snorted. "Just do me a favor and get out of here, kiddo. Your auntie might come back if you don't and, if she meets your 'friend' here, I don't think anyone is going to be very happy."

Tim reckoned that was some good, solid advice and might have chirped out a 'Yes, sir!' if Mr. Wayne hadn't cut in.

"We'll be on our way, then."

The two men, who had only the boy between them in common, nodded to each other in a sort of silent parting and Tim was led out of the house as the door shut. It was a strange feeling to hold hands with someone - he had never really done it that often - and Mr. Wayne's warm, careful ones were probably the nicest kind to hold onto.

There was a limousine and a chauffeur waiting for them on the side of the road.

It made for an odd picture in such an ordinary neighborhood and Tim watched as the trunk of the car was opened so that the driver could put his baggage into it.

He glanced back at the house while he waited, seeing it in it's entirety, and found that it seemed smaller and less intimidating than when he had originally come to it.

"Does it make you sad to leave?"

He was startled by the question and realized that Mr. Wayne had been watching him. His eyes widened and he shook his head fervently, suddenly terrified that the man would decide to abandon him there if he actually did feel something.

"No!"

The man actually laughed - the heartfelt, shaking one that he had always wanted to listen to up-close instead of observing through his binoculars.

"Don't make a face like that - it's okay if you do, you know. You're allowed to."

"I-I don't feel sad."

Mr. Wayne crouched down in his fancy suit and ruffled his hair, touching him familiarly like he had in the waiting room the week before.

"Are you sure? They're your relatives, after all."

Close, so close - as if they usually talked like that. As if they knew each other so well when they really didn't.

"Aunt Jillian only talks about her cats and my Dad when I don't want to talk about him, Aunt Sue doesn't say anything to me and Uncle Harold is only nice sometimes."

He rubbed his nose and looked at the house again.

"I really don't like it here. It's true."

"I believe you," Mr. Wayne said in a more serious tone. "And, you don't ever have to come back if you don't want to. It's also okay if you change your mind and want to visit someday. Either way, I'm fine with it. I want you to know that."

He began to walk once more, pulling Tim towards the limousine.

"In any case, your brothers are waiting for us and we've got a plane to catch so we should get going."

'Brothers'. Now, that was something that Timothy Drake had never had before.

He still didn't trust himself enough not to screw the 'new family' situation up and, if Bruce Wayne didn't seem to dislike him yet, it was likely that his siblings would see his true colors much more quickly.

The boy resolved to just say as little as possible if Jason or Dick got near him or perhaps even try to avoid them. He couldn't ruin this - not yet.

The trip took a while and Mr. Wayne talked to different people on his cellular for most of it. Tim got a heavy pang in his lower chest as he was sharply reminded of the deceased Jack Drake, but he ignored it and stared out the window, knowing that it would go away. The new connection that Mr. Wayne and his father could possibly belong together in some sort of category or cupboard in his brain left him a little colder than before.

"Have you eaten, Tim?" he asked as he got off the phone with someone named 'Alfred'.

It was getting dark and he had missed dinner.

"No, sir."

Mr. Wayne blinked and then appeared amused.

"Do you remember what I said before? None of this 'sir' stuff, all right? I know that you have good manners and it's nice that you have them, but you don't have to use them on me - in fact, especially me. I get enough of that from the people who work for me, you see. I've tried to ask them to stop too, ever since I was younger, but I can't seem to get them to do it either."

He grinned and touched the boy's hand again to squeeze it.

"It would mean the world to me if I could at least convince you to not say it."

"Okay," Tim said quietly, looking at the scenery again.

"We'll have something on the plane so don't worry. I would have stayed another day, but we're in a bit of a hurry to get back to Gotham."

He felt that he shouldn't ask - adults rarely answered his questions - but a word slipped out on it's own.

"Why, s - "

He stopped himself at the last moment and Mr. Wayne looked at him attentively.

"Why?"

"You can only stay away from work so long before things start to go hay-wire without you. I've been gone for quite a while."

He wasn't sure what Mr. Wayne did for a living other than be wealthy and walk around his enormous mansion, but Tim nodded and tried to give the impression that he knew exactly what that meant.

Their car pulled up to a well-to-do hotel establishment in the middle of the 'Emerald City' area and the Wayne boys were standing outside with two men, holding fashionable luggage. Tim noted to himself that the brothers seemed to be bickering as the car was being loaded again and was relieved that the attention might be kept off of him for a while.

The door was yanked open suddenly and a surly Jason as well as a strangely peeved Dick piled in on the opposite row of seats in the limousine. The black converse shoes on the fifteen-year-old's feet accidentally knocked into Tim's legs as he situated himself in the small space.

"Sorry," he said with only a part of his usual peppiness.

"S'okay," Tim mumbled back, awkward.

The car started and they rolled forward, once again seeking a new destination. Mr. Wayne rubbed his temple repeatedly and observed the duo for what seemed like the longest time - no words needed. As an uninvolved party of this staring contest, Tim couldn't stand the tension and wished that they would knock into a large road bump of some sort to break them out of it.

"Do I want to know?" the head of the Wayne family questioned.

It was only then that Tim realized just to what an extent the man's voice had been gentle towards himself previously. Now, all of that gentleness had vanished and he didn't ever want to do something to make Mr. Wayne speak like that.

Dick barked out a bitter-sounding laugh.

"No. You really don't."

Jason played with a rubber band on his wrist.

"Not now, anyway," Dick added, glancing at the eight-year-old in the car.

"Later," Mr. Wayne settled, effectively putting an end to the topic.

Tim was ravenously curious about all of this, but knew that he couldn't exactly demand that they continue. The drive was short this time and the chauffeur decided to turn on the radio, which helped to dispel the uncomfortable atmosphere.

The airport looked the same way it had been when he had come out of it being accompanied by Jenna. The fact that when they got out of the limousine he was standing in the same spot that he had been about a month ago made his heart lighter for some reason. It would have been cool if he could travel back in time and reassure the younger Timothy Drake that he was going to come back in only a few weeks, that he wasn't going to be there for very long.

"Stay close," his adoptive father, grasping the handle of a suitcase, told him. "It's crowded in there."

Tim got the message and grabbed at the leather strap of Dick's luggage as the teenager looked down at him in a double take of surprise.

He wasn't nearly bold enough to reach for something else.

Mr. Wayne appeared a bit disappointed and they headed inside and through the terminals, Dick giving him a pleased grin every so often as he followed after him obediently.

Internally, Tim was cursing his decision. The boy talked to him between the security checks.

"You excited to get back to good, old Gotham, buddy?"

"Yeah."

"Dad said that you had never met that uncle before. It must have sucked to be stuck in a stranger's house for four weeks."

"Yeah."

"They haven't sold your house yet, you know. It's a hot spot though so it won't stay that way forever. We can go over and sneak in if you still want to look at it."

Tim's interest was peaked, but he kept his 'one word' rule.

"Okay."

Dick frowned at him and was about to say something more, but it was time to move forward so they both did.

There was a special section of the airport for private planes, Dick explained, and naturally the heirs to 'Wayne Enterprises' always flew with their own jet.

Tim thought that was handy.

They had to leave the building and when he saw the thin, high - extremely high - staircase, leading to the plane's open doorway, something inside of him panicked badly.

"You've got to be careful because you don't want to trip on the gaps between the steps," Dick reminded him, standing in front of it and about to climb.

Mr. Wayne and Jason had already gone ahead and were inside. Tim's knees trembled as he stared at the open spaces between the silver metal.

The teenager hesitated and held out a hand.

"Should we go up together? It might be better that way."

He shook his head furiously, his stomach churning.

"What's wrong, bud?" Dick asked, touching the top of his head.

"Can't...I can't."

"What can't you do?"

"Too high," Tim muttered, too scared to care if his new brother thought that he was a baby. "It's too high."

"Hmm," Dick hummed to himself. "Well, that is a problem, isn't it?"

He seemed to mull it over for a minute and then Tim was literally swept off of his feet. His sneakers dangled in the air as the teenager carried him - princess style.

He was understandably mortified and kicked as well as thrashed to get out of the hold. He would die, just keel over and die, if the two other Waynes saw him like this.

"No-no! You don't need to - "

"Oh, but it really looks like I do," Dick interrupted smoothly. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. At least your phobia is reasonable. Jason screams like a girl when he sees a worm and Dad used to be afraid of bats when they're actually kind of a cute, harmless animal if you think about it. Really, this is nothing."

Tim's eyes widened in curiosity and the words helped him to ignore the fact that they were ascending.

"What are you scared of?" he asked bravely.

"Me? Well, I've always hated horses. One kicked me in the butt when I was little in the circus - I lived there before, you know - for being a smart-ass and yanking on its tail. I still don't like them."

That sounded way too easy and he was suspicious.

"That's all?"

"There might be something else, but you have to promise not to tell anybody."

"You too," Tim countered. "You can't tell anybody about mine either."

They stopped in the middle of the staircase and Dick rearranged the boy so he could free one of his hands.

"Pinky swear?"

They hooked fingers and shook.

"Deal."

"Clowns," he whispered into Tim's ear.

"Really?"

"Really. Now, don't look down."

He squinted at the starry sky and held onto Dick's neck tightly. They reached the threshold and Dick dropped him to the floor before anyone could see it.

"Took you long enough," Jason called to them, sitting in a cushy, leather chair.

"I was just having a lovely chat with our little brother, Jay-Jay."

Jason grunted, stuck ear-buds into his ears and leaned back into the headrest. Mr. Wayne was nowhere to be seen.

"Come on - we're going to have dinner soon, Tim. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

He sat next to the fifteen-year-old and, after a while, a deck of cards was placed on the armrest between them.

"Are you quick with numbers?"

The time before takeoff was spent teaching Tim the rules of an old Romanian game while Jason, his lips twitching upward every time the boy mispronounced the name of a card or accidentally showed the lay of what he had by turning his wrist, watched out of the corner of his eye.

The food did come just before they were up in the air and, when it did, it was obviously gourmet.

During this time, Tim had entirely forgotten about the former guidelines that he had devised for himself and Richard Wayne enchanted him with his irresistible charm.

Jason nodded off four or five times and Dick snickered to himself quietly when the boy jerked himself awake with his jaw wide open.

Eventually, they stopped with the poker and Dick crossed his muscular arms to nap as well.

Tim tried to close his eyes, but there was too much energy in his system - he almost thought that it belonged to the older boy and some of it had been transferred to him so that Dick could take a break for once.

The door from the other compartment opened and Tim instinctively feigned sleep.

Heavy footsteps padded across the room and there was a load groan that sounded like it had come from Jason.

Finally, a door shut again and his eyes snapped open.

It was time to figure out what the thirteen-year-old had not said. He dropped to a crawl on the floor after checking that Dick was thoroughly knocked out. Sneaking through two other rooms, he discovered that they were empty and that the duo had traveled farther away than he had thought.

He pressed his ear flat against the crack in the wood that he was certain separated him from the area where the father and son had gone. After straining his hearing for a while, the voices were raised enough that he could understand and he immediately picked out the thunderous, intimidating one as Mr. Wayne.

"Such a reckless, stupid thing to do -"

"You should have seen this guy. He was a real thug - there was no way that he wasn't going to do something with it."

"You were a civilian. What were you thinking? How many times do I have to drill this into your head?"

"Yeah? Well, who else was going to do something about it? I was protecting civilians. Isn't that what we're supposed to do?"

"No, it isn't. You weren't protecting anyone. You were putting yourself in danger because you assumed that a random stranger you met on the street was a criminal."

"He had a switchblade – a massive, fancy one - in his pocket. Do you think he was on his way to carve pumpkins with it?"

" I don't know what he was going to do with it and I don't care. That isn't any of Bruce Wayne's business and it definitely isn't Jason Wayne's business either."

"I had to do something. I had to -"

"Steal it? In broad daylight? No. Do you think that if he really did want to hurt someone that taking away one weapon would stop him? Or are you going to tell me the truth and say that this was your way of getting live, target practice because I'm not giving you any? Do you understand why your brother and I are furious with you right now?"

"I'm not finished with training, I didn't have back up, I didn't have a mask on, he was way bigger than me," Jason rattled off in a bored tone. "I've gotten the gist from Richard already."

"You don't have the authority to make those decisions - I do. You defer to either me or Dick until I think you're old enough. It was irresponsible and impulsive and that isn't a mistake that we can afford on the field. It makes me want to tell your brother that we're not going to take you into Gotham anytime soon."

There was a long, dead silence.

"You...you promised."

"I didn't promise anything."

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

Again, quiet.

"Dick said this was the year. He said that I was ready now."

"We thought so too. Of course, disregarding our rules and pulling stunts like that can change someone's mind pretty quickly."

"I won't do it anymore," came the desperate pleading. "I'm sorry."

"How do I know that? You're just saying it now."

"What do I have to do?"

"Right now? Nothing. I think you expressed yourself clearly enough today."

"But –"

"As of today, I'm delaying your initiation for three months and I'm grounding you for one of them."

"Three – three months?"

Mr. Wayne's words were cold and precise.

"Be grateful that it isn't off the agenda permanently."

Jason huffed a loud groan.

"This is so unfair. Dick never had to jump through hoops to get approval from you. He only had six months of training and he's been 'Robin' since he was ten!"

"Dick was already a skilled acrobat, he never disobeyed orders and he doesn't scare me the way you do!"

There was a heavy sigh and he spoke more softly now.

"You scare me to death, Jason. You're a wild card – I'm not sure how to trust you when I don't know what you're going to do next."

"You can trust me," the boy said quietly.

"Prove it to me because, if you can't, I don't know if I can ever give you a suit."

Tim leaned away from the door, dizzy with too much information. Did this mean what he thought it meant…?

Or was he wrong and dreaming something up?

He made his way back to the sleeping Dick, suddenly fearful that he would be caught.

When the plane landed and they left the airport, Dick made a big show of pretending to kiss the ground and thanking the heavens that they were in the beloved city while Jason rolled his eyes.

"Oh sweet, polluted air! How I have longed for your filthy, crime-infested streets, Goth-am!"

Tim was jostled as he did this because he had decided once more to stick fast to his adoptive brother's side and their hands were fastened together. There was a sudden level of closeness that had been achieved between the pair and somehow - even if the thought of conversation had terrified him a few hours before - it felt natural to relax around the teenager.

Dick wrapped one arm around his shoulders when they sat next to each other in the new car to take them home.

Tim yawned.

"Tired?" Mr. Wayne asked from the other side. "Don't worry - we're almost there."

It was noted that there was a significant space between him and Jason. Tim supposed that they had not made up as of yet.

"I wonder if Alfred made strawberry scones," Dick mused. "He promised me some before we left."

"Alfred had more important things to do than bake to your wishes, Richard," Mr. Wayne remarked dryly.

"Like what?"

"Visiting his god-daughter, fixing Tim's room, helping me with the lawsuit-"

"Alfred has a god-daughter?"

"Yes. His world doesn't revolve entirely around you, you know."

"It doesn't?" Dick exclaimed, looking scandalized.

Tim bit his cheek to hold back laughter and he saw Mr. Wayne looking at him warmly. The boy turned away quickly and studied the buildings passing by.

The street that he had lived on previously was comfortingly familiar even if the long, curving driveway that they pulled into was not. The manor was even more impressive and grand up close than it had been far away. Tim stared up at the sheer height of it as he stood outside.

"Home," Dick sighed sweetly, patting his head. "It's nice, isn't it?"

Tim nodded and followed him and the rest of the family up to the front steps as Bruce Wayne unlocked the great door. Dick bounded inside with hesitation, calling 'Alfred' boisterously, and Jason sat on the bottom step of the wide, humongous staircase in the foyer.

Every sound echoed to the high, embellished ceiling. It looked like something out of a movie and while his parents had been similarly wealthy the foreignness of the place unsettled him. This wasn't home for him - he didn't know these walls.

Dick came back, practically dragging the old man that he had seen before with him. They stopped in front of him and the elder of the two seemed out of breath.

"This is Tim," Dick announced excitedly.

"I can see that, Master Richard," the old man said, wheezing.

Both of the boys gave him a minute to collect himself.

"How do you do, young man," Alfred greeted with a smile, shaking his hand. "I must say - I am quite pleased that you are finally here."

"Pleased to meet you," Tim mumbled shyly.

"My name is Alfred Pennyworth and I am the butler of this household. If you should ever need anything - anything at all - do not hesitate to tell me."

"It's okay if you don't understand him sometimes - we don't either. He's from England," Dick stage-whispered as if this was an especially exotic country.

"Yes - very amusing, Master Richard," Alfred stated wryly. "You 'yanks' are unintelligible to me as well."

Dick's hand flew to his heart and his mouth dropped open.

"My word, Alfred! I'm offended by that term!"

"Give me a hand with these, Dick," Mr. Wayne called from where he was carrying the bags up the stairs.

The teenager hopped to attention and ran off.

"I hope you like your bedroom," the butler told him kindly. "I managed to bring over some of your knick-knacks and things from your old home before they closed it off."

"Thank you," Tim said, meaning it.

"No need to thank me. On the contrary, I'm going to have to thank you for bringing such excitement into this house. They've all gotten into quite a tizzy over you."

Dick was skipping up the steps while humming a tune and Mr. Wayne was smiling quietly to himself again. Jason was as unreadable as ever.

He followed Alfred as the butler gave him a brief tour of need-to-know rooms in the house. The kitchen as well as the family dining room were homey enough for such a luxurious place and he thought he could remember where they were. On the next level was the living room with Dick's video games, Mr. Wayne's study and many other sitting rooms lined with books that they passed by. An important stop as they ascended to the third was Alfred's bedroom, which Tim could go to if it was an emergency in the middle of the night, and they ignored one floor without bothering with anything in it.

Finally, they came to the main area of Mr. Wayne's, Dick's and Jason's bedrooms. The thirteen-year-old's room was farther away than the other two and somewhere in the middle was his own.

They entered and Tim was shocked by the familiar sight of his books on a clean, bright shelf along with a few wooden carvings of animals that he had been given by his deceased grandfather. The rest of the room was completely new. The navy bed was a lot larger than his old one and he touched it curiously.

"Is everything to your liking?" Alfred queried.

"Yeah - I like it a lot."

"I'm glad that is so, Master Timothy -"

He turned around and stared at 'Master'.

"- your suitcase will be here shortly and then you can go to bed. I'm sure you're quite exhausted."

Tim wasn't certain if that was a suggestion or an order - it sounded slightly parental.

"Goodnight - I will see you in the morning," the butler said and left through the door.

Tim tested the bounciness of his mattress for a few minutes, wondering if Leopold had been too cramped being stuffed in with all of his clothes. Dick and Mr. Wayne were quick and he heard them dropping off their luggage down the hallway before coming to him.

"Here ya go," Dick said cheerily, dumping his suitcase on the beige carpet. "There wasn't anything else, was there?"

"That's it," Mr. Wayne confirmed.

"Don't let the bed bugs bite, Timmy," the boy imparted before going back down the hallway.

Tim was itching to take his lion out, but he wasn't going to do it in front of the man. He waited expectantly for him to go.

"How are you doing?" Mr. Wayne asked.

Tim studied him from head to toe, imagining sharp, bat ears that protruded out of his head.

"Fine."

"I know that it's going to be weird at first, but I want you to be comfortable here. If you need anything, just ask. You know where Alfred is and Jason is pretty close by."

Tim's forehead scrunched up.

"What about you and Dick?"

The man rubbed the back of his neck and winced.

"Well, we're...we're sort of night-owls so you might not always find us in bed when you need to. That's why - it's just better to go to those two."

If that didn't sound highly suspicious, Tim didn't know what did.

"Okay."

Mr. Wayne backed up a step and leaned a hand against the doorframe.

"I'm really happy that you're here - I wanted you to know that."

It was impossible not to feel some emotion at those words. Mr. Wayne was trying to keep a serious expression, but failing miserably as he looked a little embarrassed at saying them himself.

"Anyway...sleep well."

At last, he was alone and Tim changed into his pajamas then took Leopold to bed. He thought about the conclusion he had come to while touching his stuffed animal's synthetic fur.

It all made sense - he had gone through the reasoning slowly.

'Civilians' plus 'protect' plus 'suit' equaled 'superhero'.

There were only three super-heroes that he could think of who were rumored to live in Gotham.

Jason had said 'Robin'. Robin was Batman's sidekick.

Tim didn't know much about Batman, but Mr. Wayne certainly had the physique to be him. The conversation that he had heard couldn't be construed any other way, really.

The final conclusion was that Mr. Wayne was Batman and Richard Wayne was Robin - Jason was something else. He didn't know how Alfred figured into all of this, but didn't think that such an old man could fight crime.

"We're living with Batman from now on," he whispered to Leopold. "Cool, huh?"

Author's Note: So, what do you think? Is Tim going to keep this to himself? Was Bruce planning on telling him at some point? Stay tuned for more!