Chapter Text
Damian was being tailed, as he had been for at least the past three weeks. He first realized when a bullet shot at him had gone wide and his tail squeaked. There was no blood when Damian checked for it, no sign that anyone had been there at all, but Damian kept an ear out for whoever it was. He tried keeping an eye out, too, but that was quickly proven to be futile, as they would always vanish when they realized what he was doing.
That said, he was being tailed, and had nothing happening at the moment. He acted as if he were taking a routine break during patrol – which, to be fair, he was – and then began taking his time to corner them. With any luck, Damian would be able to capture the tail and learn everything about them by morning.
To corner his tail, he couldn’t let them know that he knew that they were there. Simple enough. The roof he chose for this was blocked on two sides by taller buildings, with a large gap for the road on the third side. Damian himself was in the way of the fire escape. There was no easy way for his tail to vanish on him this time, unless they were in possession of far more advanced equipment than Damian had assumed. He slowly, slowly began shifting towards the blocked-in corner, where the shadows were darkest and his tail was most likely to be sitting. The excruciatingly slow movements didn’t appear to alert his tail, not that he’d know if they did. Whoever his tail was, they were good at remaining so silent and still that Damian almost didn’t know they were there.
The silence with which his tail moved, their unnerving ability to disappear into shadows, and the persistence with which they followed Damian all pointed to League of Assassins training. He hoped that wasn’t the case, but he had to remain realistic. It was more than likely that his tail was affiliated with the League in some way. He wondered why the League would be tailing him now, after so many years, and what use they would have in not capturing him. The whole while that he was pondering, Damian continued slowly moving to corner the other person on the roof.
Finally, after what felt like hours but could not have been more than twenty minutes, he was close enough to his tail that he could hear them breathing. They must’ve noticed at the same time as him, because he heard their breath hitch. This would likely be his last chance to catch them, and the hitch of breath gave him a direction to lunge for, so he lunged without any warning.
Damian’s hand closed around a shirt – it felt like worn cotton and polyester – and dragged his tail out by the collar. He looked down to assess them, and saw –
What.
Was that truly his tail? They were young, no older than nine by his estimate. And clearly malnourished. They wore all black clothes, all a size or two too big, with a black sick mask covering the lower half of their face. What little skin Damian could see was sickly pale, and their eyes were piercing, ice blue. They met Damian’s gaze, their eyes wide and scared while Damian narrowed his own eyes.
“You have been tailing me for at least three weeks,” Damian started, surprising even himself with how level his voice was. “Who are you, and who are you working for?”
The child shuddered, then went back to their stunningly accurate impression of one of Gotham’s finest gargoyles. They said nothing, and Damian, in his frustration, gently shook them by the collar. The only sound that maneuver managed to draw from the child was a whimper, and Damian sighed.
“You’ve been tailing me long enough to know that I do not allow harm to come to children. I do, however, need to know for whom you are working, if only so I can protect you from them. I would also appreciate being given something to call you, otherwise I will come up with a name for you myself. That is a threat.” Mentally, Damian noted that this child was so small and so, so scared. There was no way he could let them get hurt, regardless of how trained they were. Was this how Bruce felt when Damian first arrived? He shook himself, now was no time to be thinking like that.
The child took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and took another. Interesting, especially since it followed a pattern Damian learned from Batman. They were taught breathing exercises, then. Damian allowed them to collect themselves, very carefully not flinching when they finally began speaking.
“I’m not working for anyone, Shadow, sir,” they said, speaking slowly. Their accent was an intriguing mix of Bristol and Crime Alley. “I’m, um… I’m a fan? Of yours? I’m so sorry, I know that I- uh. I’m not working for anyone! And, uh, right, you wanted something to call me.” The child’s voice was trembling slightly, even though they held perfectly still. This spoke to being trained, at least, even despite their claim of not working for anyone.
After a moment of waiting to see if the child would actually provide a name to be called by, Damian nodded. “I did,” he confirmed verbally, just to be certain that the child got the message.
The child took a deep breath, seeming to have come to a decision. “Alright, okay. Okay. Well, you, uh, you already kind of know me? Or you know of me, at least. Um, I’m Crow. It’s nice to meet you officially. Can you put me down now? I promise I won’t run away.”
Damian inhaled sharply and nearly dropped the child – Crow, this child was the Crow – before putting them down gently. “That name is not a well-known one. Do you have a way to confirm that?” Damian asked, voice calm, somehow remaining steady through his panic.
Crow was a primary source of information within Gotham, only ever interacting with the GCPD through their own systems and the Bats through the Batcomputer. The files were always dropped into one of two secure databases that they created, the one for the GCPD kept carefully separate from the Batcomputer, and tracing the files to where they came from was impossible. Crow was an extremely skilled hacker; their data was always correct, and often included pictures. They had been working with law enforcement and the Bats for the past three years, and Damian had trouble reconciling that with the tiny child before him. Perhaps they were an understudy to the real Crow? Though, they said they weren’t working for anyone, and there had been no tells that they were lying – no. This child, Crow, was speaking again. Damian tuned back in, paying attention.
“Would my code work as confirmation for you?” Crow asked. The code was likely in reference to the code they always embedded into all of their files. It acted as a sure-fire way of telling that the information actually came from Crow, just in case someone else attempted to drop false information. Damian nodded. “Okay,” Crow muttered to themselves. “Okay,” they repeated, then rattled off a string of numbers and letters. While they did, their fingers twitched, as if they had only ever typed the string they were saying. And, shit, it was correct. This really was Crow.
Damian ran through the same breathing exercise Crow had run through earlier, gathering his thoughts. He took a moment, watching Crow watch him. They waited patiently, making no move to leave, and Damian took one last breath before forcing his mind to return to the moment.
“Alright, Crow. I believe you. Before anything else, may I ask what pronouns you use?”
Crow blinked up at him, face twitching into an expression that could’ve been confusion for a moment. The expression was quickly smoothed back to neutral. “Sure. I, uh, I prefer he/him pronouns, I guess?” His voice lilted at the end of the sentence, turning what should’ve been a statement into a question.
Damian called Crow out on it. “You guess, or you know? I will use whatever you are most comfortable with, but you need to tell me instead of asking me.”
Crow swallowed audibly, tensing. “My pronouns are he/him, Shadow, sir. Thank you for asking.” Crow then made a movement that was reminiscent of an aborted flinch, as if preparing to be harmed on instinct. Shit. Again.
“Of course. Thank you for telling me.” How the hell does Damian deal with a small, likely abused child who also happened to be one of the best intelligence sources in all of Gotham? He had no idea. Luckily, he did know someone who had a knack for taking in stray children with a tendency to get into things they very much shouldn’t. For once Damian was thankful for his father’s tendency to take anyone under his large bat wings. “Alright. I’m sure this is scary for you, but you must know what happens next. I promise once again that I will let no harm befall you.”
Crow nodded seriously. “You’re taking me back to the Cave. That’s fine, I’ve always wanted to see it in person, anyway. Do what you have to do, I’ll go willingly.”
Okay, that wasn’t weird at all. Damian hummed, then gently scooped Crow into a one-armed grip against his hip. Time to bring the child back to the Batcave. This was Bruce’s problem, now.
-
Tim was so excited – and maybe, possibly, so scared – that he was nearly vibrating. He met Batman’s Shadow, who had been his hero since the boy first started going out, and would be able to see the Batcave in real life! He also couldn’t get over his shock that Shadow, aka Damian Wayne, was so nice to him, especially since both sides of the man were known to be rude and abrasive. Though, maybe it shouldn’t be too shocking, since the only reason Tim ever figured out Shadow’s civilian persona was because he was kind to the same street animals and referred to them with the same names, regardless of which persona he was wearing.
Of course, just because Shadow said he wouldn’t let Tim get hurt didn’t mean Batman would agree. Tim was an unknown and potentially a threat. He didn’t know what exactly the Bat did to threats, but he figured the interrogation had to be at least a little painful. Tim was going to ignore that for now, though.
After being carried and grappled around for a bit, Shadow finally landed and set Tim down. Shadow told him that they were going to use the Batmobile to get to the Cave (which, awesome!) but Tim had to be blindfolded the whole time. Tim agreed, and allowed himself to be blindfolded and led to the car.
He rubbed at his face where the blindfold sat across his nose. He understood the need for it, he did, but Tim already knew where the Cave was and the identities of all of the Bats, so it was a moot point. Of course, Shadow wasn’t aware that Tim knew everything already, and Tim wasn’t about to tell him, so the uncomfortable blindfold stayed. It was fine, he could deal.
The car was taking what had to be decoy turns, the route twisting through the city of Gotham in a way that would leave almost anyone else lost, dizzy, and confused. Of course, Tim, after years of going out as Crow, knew every road in the city and every turn they took. He mentally traced their path through his mind’s map of the city, using this as an opportunity to test himself, until they finally reached what he assumed to be a street-level entrance to the Cave. He memorized the location, mentally circling it in red. He’d have to check it out later.
They finally stopped in the Cave, and Shadow helped Tim out of the car. Tim immediately reached for his blindfold, waiting a moment before untying it. Shadow hummed in assent, and Tim untied the knot behind his head, allowing the blindfold to drop from his face.
As soon as he opened his eyes, Tim gasped. The Cave was even bigger than the cameras made it seem, the Batcomputer was way cooler in person, and as he turned in a slow circle he could see the training area and the med bay and Shadow’s slight, amused smile.
One problem, though – he was alone in the Cave with Shadow. Fuck. He knew, logically, that he had to have interrupted patrol, but still. Shit. Okay, this was fine. He opened his mouth to ask when Batman would be back, but clamped it shut again as soon as he heard footsteps coming from deeper in the Cave.
“Hey,” a new voice called out – Goldfinch, aka Duke Thomas, his mind supplied. “You said something about finally finding our corvid friend?”
Shadow tutted in response. “Yes, I have. Perhaps you would like to meet the little Crow?”
Tim barely managed to hold in a gasp. This was so cool! Goldfinch was known as the kind daylight hero of Gotham, and for a reason. He was nice to everyone, all of the time, unless they deserved snark or sass. He also practically worked alone most of the time. Tim nearly started bouncing in his excitement, but reigned himself in. It was important for him to be as professional as possible. He couldn’t let his heroes see him as incapable, because he couldn’t let their perception of him interfere with how serious the information he gave them was.
Goldfinch came into view as he responded to Shadow. “Of course I want to meet Crow, who do you think I am? It’s so awesome that you finally-“ he cut himself off, staring blankly at Tim for a moment. Tim waved politely. “Da- Shadow. That is a child,” Goldfinch said, his voice an incredulous monotone. Tim held back his laughter.
“To be entirely fair to Shadow, I’m older than either of you were when you started working under Batman,” Tim said, tone carefully polite.
Shadow stiffened slightly, turning to Tim. “How, exactly, would you know how old we were when we began working for the Bat?”
Aw, crud. Hello, questions with incriminating answers. Tim wasn’t just going to tell Shadow and Goldfinch that he had been stalking them and Batman for the past three years, that sounded insane! Okay, Tim, time to think. Gotta give a good answer to that, one that doesn’t sound threatening while also not being an outright lie. There had to be a good answer, he just had to find it.
“I’m Crow, I know everything.” And that wasn’t even close to being a good answer. Shit, bad Tim! Of course the first thing out of his mouth was one of the most incriminating ways he could’ve answered that! Abort, abort! “Also, I’m eleven. Which is definitely older than you guys were.” No, crap, no! Shut up, Tim, close your damn mouth! Tim clamped his mouth shut hard enough that he heard his teeth click. Whoopsies. That sucked.
Shadow and Goldfinch shared a look above Tim’s head, then both turned back to him slowly. “Okay… That would make you, like, eight when you started giving us information. How the he- heck did you manage that?” Goldfinch asked, disbelieving.
Tim forced himself to shrug, and was saved from having to answer by the sound of another car entering the Cave. That had to be Batman, which was either really good or really, really bad. Tim could only hope it was good.
Tim held his breath as the vehicle came to a stop, and Batman himself opened the door. Tim stood stock-still, cataloging the reactions of the other two vigilantes in the room. Shadow seemed to simultaneously stiffen and relax, standing at what was best described as a bastardized parade rest, while Goldfinch moved forward to stand by Shadow with measured and unhurried steps. Tim himself remained tense and still, similar to how he would stand beside his mother at galas.
Batman exited the car with more grace than could be expected of someone with all that armor and that long cape. Tim wondered how he did that. The man then glanced over his partners and turned an appraising eye to Tim. He seemed to catalog every detail of Tim’s appearance, from the camera around his neck to the surgical mask over his mouth and nose, before finally looking Tim in the eye. Tim could officially, for real say that Batman’s full attention was worse than being on the receiving end of Vicky Vale’s most scathing questions, and that was saying something.
Batman – that was Bruce fricking Wayne, what the shit – looked him over one more time, probably searching for weapons, and then relaxed the slightest bit. “You’re a bit younger than I was expecting, Crow,” he muttered, his deep voice clearly gentled in the manner it always was when speaking with victims and children, which may have chafed Tim’s pride, just a little. “Regardless, it is pleasant to meet the one who’s been giving us information after all this time.”
Tim nodded once in acknowledgement, just as his mother taught him. “It’s nice to meet you as well, Sir.” Tim very loudly thought ‘even if I didn’t mean to get caught’ in Batman’s direction.
Tim thought it loudly enough that Goldfinch could hear, apparently, or he was just that good at reading body language and tone. Goldfinch snickered quietly, hiding the sound behind his hand. Batman glanced at Goldfinch and exhaled softly, his muscles relaxing in a way that conveyed how much he wanted to outright sigh. The slight movement was enough to send Goldfinch into a full fit of giggles. Tim glanced at Shadow and saw that even he wore a small smirk, which was his equivalent of deep belly laughter. Awesome.
Tim took a second to enjoy the moment – he made them laugh! – before schooling his expression and tone. It was time to get to business. “I’m assuming you heard our conversation?”
Batman nodded, shifting with practiced ease from being a tired father to being the detective he was supposed to be while in the suit. “I’ve been listening since Shadow caught you.”
Tim hummed. “I’m sure you have questions. I’m already here and don’t mind answering them, but before we begin I would like to remind you that tonight is a school night. As such, I would appreciate being home before three in the morning.” It was currently one thirty, which should give them plenty of time.
“Of course,” Batman said. “I have to say, I’m glad that you put importance on school, even with everything else you do. That said, why don’t we sit? This will probably take some time.” He gestured to some chairs that had been set up while Tim wasn’t looking – that must’ve been the work of Agent A, aka Alfred Pennyworth – and began moving towards them. Tim followed, as did Shadow and Goldfinch.
Tim waited for the others to sit before he did, in case they had preferred chairs. When he finally sat down, he made sure to do so with perfect posture. He crossed his legs at the knee and folded his hands in his lap, exactly how he would when sitting in on a board meeting at Drake Industries. He hoped his projected calm and confidence would carry through. He was still hyped to be in the Batcave and talking to his heroes, of course. This was awesome! However, it really was important that they saw him as a coworker instead of as an excitable child. Gaping in awe could wait. For now, he had an interrogation to pass, something that was normal to want and possible to achieve. Okay, Tim. Go time.