Summary: After the FBI unmasks Batman, Tim Drake's life spirals out of control. However, when information surfaces that Agent O'Hurley has a personal agenda with the superhero community, the family bands together to take down the giant.
Pairing: Foreseen Jason/Dick/Tim. Possible Jason/Dick/Tim/Cass, depending on how much she likes me.
Previous Chapters

Title: As I Am
Wordcount: 1,239
Characters: Tim
Summary: It's normal and he's not.

Author's Note: It was supposed to be huge! It was supposed to but twice it's size! It was supposed to be magnificent! Yeah, well, get ready for disappointment.

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There were stories of marooned sailors and lost soldiers, abandoned alone at the farthest reaches of the world. Surrounded by confusion and alien culture, they would float listlessly in and out of society, awaiting rescue from their distant home. Years, they would wait, sometimes decades, until their barriers broke and their new home absorbed them entirely. Hardly unexpected, but the chilling facts came later, when compatriots and friends finally stumbled upon their missing man. Swept up in the clamor of his rescue, the man would often go willingly, learning only to late he could not acclimate himself again. Other times, he was more attuned to his wants, no matter the disturbance, and would fight fiercely for his new existence. The wanderer no longer considered himself a citizen of the past, but embraced his present.

Tim could feel the initial desperate madness creeping through him as the plastic analog clock ticked slowly across the six on the kitchen wall. The sheer benign manner the family chattered around the table filled him with a surreal awareness of his own abnormality. He tensed as Edith’s husband, Richard, passed him the potatoes.

Stifling a sigh, Tim made his best effort to pretend he fit in the panoramic Norman Rockwell backdrop. Richard’s frown proved his performance lacked a certain verisimilarity. The conversation thinned as Edith and her husband shared a looked filled with endless concern for their new hatchling. Gears churned behind their pointed glances, grinding with images of what horrible ‘Bruce Wayne’ did to ‘the helpless orphan’.  Tim continued his charade, ignoring the silence and scooped a pathetic scoop of salty potatoes on his plate.

“So, Nikki,” Edith said with feigned nonchalance. “Now that we’ve got Timothy all settled, why don’t you take him out on the town? I’m sure he could use a hand finding all the best places for kids your age.”

Because nothing healed child abduction like mingling with his own demographic age group. Eat your heart out, Charles Dickens.

The chatter continued, stilted and pressed as his second cousin tried admirably to escape nannying the social pariah as Tim tuned out the carefully constructed family jargon. It wasn’t that he’d never been surrounded by the same inane menialities before; it had just been with his own family. Not always his father and mother, or Dana, but with Kon and Bart, Dick and Alfred, even Bruce and Cass on occasion. He couldn’t shake the feeling he was supposed to be lying to these people; hiding himself. Perhaps if he exhumed his Alvin Draper persona, he’d stop flinching over potatoes.

“Wouldn’t you like that, Timmy!” Richard declared in an over-loud guffaw, slapping him firmly on the shoulder. Ignoring Edith’s perfunctory admonition, he continued on in a ‘Good Ol’boy’ routine, straight from the material Bruce utilized for Matches. “See, Eddes! The boy doesn’t mind a bit of bonding! Look at him, smiling already. Mentioning pretty girls always lifts the male spirit, don’t it, Timmy!”

Of course not, Richie! It was merely your resemblance to my mentor’s seedy street cover that made me join your merry band of light footers! Insert guffaw and backslap. Somehow, as gratifying as the statement would be, Tim knew it would cause him trouble in the future if he didn’t show a ‘healthy male spirit’.

He plastered a shy smile on his face and glanced at the table, fighting back the words, ‘Well gosh, mister.’

Dinner continued on, filled with ‘Timmy’ and ‘Oh, Richard!’ until Edith asked for his plate and ushered her husband away from the table so ‘the children could make plans.’ It was clear neither teenager had the option of refusing if they cherished their privacy, so they sat and watched each other. Tim slouched and melted down into his seat, turning his sharp blue eyes listless and empty. Curved spine, rolled shoulders, drooping head; Tim oozed himself into a shallow parody of humanity and waited. When surrounded in enemy territory, it was always best to avoid confrontation until all other options had been exhausted.

The clock, now at the eleven, continued to tick in mocking monotony. Tim was impressed at Nikki’s endurance for sulking. Most stopped when it became ineffective, but she sat irascibly silent in her seat, arms crossed, lips turned as sharply down as gnawing her gum allowed.

“So,” Tim stated. “You have friends.”

Nikki kilted her head condescendingly and snapped her gum. “Not that it matters to you.”

Tim shrugged, “Alright.” Teenage dramatics, while common place, where not high on the list of ‘normal practices’ he had any intentions of delving into. A friend, maybe, if he could find one not dazzled by his notoriety; a girlfriend, possibly, with the same stipulations, but he refused to engage in some petty social war. Hair twirling and cherry Chap Stick were admiral pursuits for a female of the proper persuasion, but Tim remembered the last time he wore a pair of heels. His feet wouldn’t survive a day.

“So what, that’s it?” Nikki snorted. “You’re just going to sit in a dark corner and skulk about? I knew you were a freak.”

He didn’t flinch, but for once he wanted to. It was hardly an original barb, Bernard used to tease him about his love of disassociation every time he shied away from social gatherings. ‘Come on, man! This isn’t healthy. Surely a man of means, such as yourself, should embrace your fellow peers! Frolic amongst the masses, you Scrooge, or I’ll believe the rumor you lick chewed gum off the wall.’ Tim had never been ashamed to hide before; his entire life had been spent hiding something from someone. It was where he was most comfortable.

Useful.

But then, he wasn’t useful anymore. There was no reason for him to slip through the shadows; he wasn’t hiding anything. Dick was out of his reach, Gotham had shucked him with Batman, and Tucson, Arizona was hardly a criminal hotspot. Tim had researched the area before he’d arrived. Unsolved cases, certainly; rising crime rate, undoubtedly; beyond the local law enforcement’s ability, hardly.

Besides, he reminded himself, if a new vigilante began bounding around the ass-end of nowhere right after Wayne’s son arrived, it would destroy any chance Bruce had for being charged with simple white collar crimes. Tim cursed. Bruce was in prison and he was hogtied by red tape.

“Oh god,” Nikki sneered, curling her lip in disgust. “You’re one of those emo wrist-slashers, aren’t you? Just , ew, don’t bleed on my stuff. I don’t want AIDS or skin cancer or whatever.”

Tim rolled his eyes.

“Excuse me?” She said, leaning over the table. “Do you have something to say, charity case?”

He crooked a brow. “Moo.”

Nikki sneered again, snubbing him. “Nice, Freakshow, real nice. Why don’t you go join the circus.”

“My brother said no.”

She opened her mouth and blinked in confusion. “What?”

“I asked. Dick said he’d kick my ass.” Tim crooked an eyebrow. “You didn’t forget, did you? With the mansion and the tabloid fever, I got two brothers.” He wiggled his fingers demonstratively and shrugged, “Course, one of them’s dead; can’t blame you for that.”

“Gross.” Nikki shuddered and stood up. “I don’t care what my mother says. I’ll take you to the bonfire, but you are not meeting my friends.” She eyed him up and down. “You are such a creep.”

“Heard its Gotham.” He said. “Course, I could just be a bad egg.”
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