#hbd toothens

[tiptapricot]

I wrote a fic based on the wonderful @aloofwindbag ‘s Batgirl!Tim AU for their bday and the first two chapters are up! I’ll be finishing it in the next 1-2 weeks depending, so I hope y’all like it :-D

***

The report was on the news that morning. After the weather, and something about a new bowling alley opening on the East side, the anchor moved on to a breaking news segment. Tim wasn’t totally paying attention, the TV was turned down to background noise while he ate breakfast, something to fill the space while his parents were away. Nonetheless, his ears perked up at a familiar name.

“Barbara Gordon, the police commissioner’s daughter, was shot in her apartment last night.”

He froze, a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth. He strained his ears to make out the rest of the report. This couldn’t… he couldn’t have heard that right.

The anchor continued, explaining what had been released to the public (barely anything), and finished with, “We’ll be following this story as it develops, so stay tuned,” before the feed switched to a commercial. Tim was already at the door, a daypack slung over his shoulder and a note to the sitter taped to the fridge.

Continue reading on ao3 or under the cut!

***

As it turned out, Barbara wasn’t as easy to find as Tim had expected. It was largely because none of the hospitals would let him past the help desk without a guardian present, but there was also a frustrating lack of news updates. He was carrying out an investigation practically blind, and it was frustrating.

The sitter caught up to him when he stopped to buy a bag of chips a few blocks from Gotham General. She manhandled him into her car, bordering on frantic as she scolded him for going out without supervision. Tim tuned out most of it for the drive home, rolling his eyes as she brought up ‘safety concerns’ again. He’d heard the same speech a thousand times.

“’M sorry,” he mumbled as they pulled into the driveway. He wasn’t, not really. The apology was more of a courtesy and to stop the woman from prying than anything else. He was plenty capable of taking care of himself without some nutty college student looking over his shoulder.

The sitter let out a long sigh and gave him a strained smile. “Just don’t do it again, Mr. Drake.” She said. Tim nodded and got out of the backseat without another word.

They spent the rest of the day inside. The sitter ordered food and put on a movie like she always did, but Tim wasn’t interested. He couldn’t stop thinking about Barbara.

She had to be fine, right? She was Batgirl, she was super strong and cool and awesome and she’d been hurt plenty of times, but she’d always come back sooner or later. Maybe Tim just had to be patient. He could wait. He could.

He spent the night lying awake with a police scanner propped up next to his pillow, listening intently for any reports of a girl in a cape.

There were none.

***

A week passed and Batgirl still wasn’t back on the streets, then two, then three. Even after Barbara was released from the hospital (discreetly, with almost no news coverage) there was nothing. At the month and a half mark, Tim had had enough. He was going to get to the bottom of this, and he was going to do it now.

His parents had gone on another spur of the moment business trip and they’d hired a different sitter than usual. She didn’t know Tim like the last one had, didn’t guard his door or lock his windows. She just tucked him in, turned out the lights, and half an hour later Tim heard her car pull out of the driveway. No one to catch him leaving, it was the perfect time to sneak out.

He gathered a few things first. His camera, a notepad and pencil, a bottle of water, a thick hoodie, and a wad of cash from the drawer in his mom’s room. He wasn’t supposed to know the stash was there, but it wasn’t exactly hidden either.

Barbara lived over in Old Gotham, in the clocktower near Wayne Enterprises. It was on the opposite side of town from Tim’s house, but if he rode his bike a few miles down the road and across the bridge he could catch a cab and take that the rest of the way. If the driver let him on, that was. Most Gotham cabbies didn’t care how old he was, as long as he paid them, but there were always those odd few that would mistake him for a runaway and try to take him to social services. As if. He was only two months shy of eight and a half now, not some baby. If he ever wanted to run away he’d be much more discreet about it.

It was a cool evening when he stepped outside, the streets and concrete damp with rain and the swelling clouds overhead promising more. Tim coasted down the driveway on his bike, water pattering against his sneakers, and out the gate to the main road. He stayed on the hard shoulder, flicking his handlebar light on when the first few cars came into view.

It wasn’t the first time he’d made the trip to Gotham. He’d been sneaking out a few times every week to go bat-watching ever since he was old enough to work a camera.

He’d never told his parents that though, and he didn’t know if he ever would.

There was a box of faded Polaroids and undeveloped film stuffed under his bed, full of blurry photos of capes and masks streaking across rooftops. Some of them were clearer, shots he’d gotten by climbing up fire escapes or ducking behind dumpsters to observe a fight, but each one was special to him.

The bats had shaped his childhood. They were guardians and mysteries wrapped in Kevlar suits, something he could look forward to when the house was boring and empty. He’d been following them for years, it was how he’d worked out their identities, and it was precisely why the mystery surrounding Barbara worried him so much.

It started raining as Tim turned onto the bridge, a drizzle that quickly turned into a downpour. He shivered and flipped his hood up, leaning closer to the handlebars.

About a year ago, Robin had gone missing too. A week or so after the disappearance, the news had reported that Jason—Robin—had been in a nasty car crash. Nothing else, no specifics, just that he was in critical condition at one of Gotham’s hospitals. He was eventually released, but Robin hadn’t appeared again for almost seven months after the fact.

The whole situation was eerily similar to the current one. That should’ve made Tim feel better, in theory, since Robin had come back in the end, but it didn’t. Something felt off this time, but he couldn’t place what. Maybe it was because Barbara had been released much sooner than Jason, yet still wasn’t back on the streets, or maybe because he was just paranoid this time around, he didn’t know. Either way, whenever he thought about it he felt… weird.

He couldn’t quite explain the feeling, a worry that twisted in his gut and made him feel queasy and sad. Batgirl was his hero, or one of them at least. She was gorgeous and powerful and awesome and he looked up to her. He didn’t know what he’d do if she never turned up again.

He had to get to the bottom of what was going on. If not him, then who?

Tim rode off the bridge and onto a sidewalk, weaving around a few pedestrians before swerving into an alley. He got off, unclipped his helmet, and shoved his bike in the small gap between one of the dumpsters and the wall. It was the best hiding spot he’d been able to find over the years, and it had only taken three stolen bikes to find.

He managed to flag down a cab after only a few minutes, smiling to himself when the driver grunted nothing more than a brief “Where to?” as he slid into the backseat.

“Gotham Clocktower please,” he replied.

“‘Aight kid.” The driver mumbled.

Tim stared out the window as they drove, watching raindrops slip down the glass. Gotham was kind of pretty at night, when the buildings blended with the sky and didn’t feel as huge and ominous. Sometimes, if he could make them out, he would read the words on the street signs under his breath. He wasn’t doing that now, of course, this driver didn’t seem like the type to appreciate that. Instead, he scanned the rooftops, hoping to catch a flash of cape or boots between the gargoyles. He knew he probably wouldn’t, the Bats were rarely ever out this early, but it was worth a shot.

When they pulled up to the clocktower it was pouring even harder. Tim handed a wad of cash to the driver and thanked him before getting out, groaning as he stepped right into a deep puddle. He sighed and tugged at the straps of his backpack. The sooner he could get inside, the better.

Tim looked up at the clock face towering above him. He was nervous, but excited too. He was finally going to get his answers, and get to talk to one of the Bats for the first time. He could do this. He could do this. Squaring his shoulders, Tim walked towards the entrance with determination, and stepped through the double doors.

Ch. 2