Tim Drake oneshots

Unagable "Grandfather"

Tim’s life had always been a strange blend of chaos and solitude. The estrangement from the Batfamily had happened gradually; he’d noticed it over time—dismissed calls, canceled plans, missions where he was the last to know. It hurt, but he learned to swallow it, writing angst-filled songs as a form of catharsis. He was still in his early twenties, his youth untouched by age.

And then, everything changed.

One moment he was working on a case in Gotham, and the next, he was sucked through a rift—a tear in the very fabric of reality. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a different Gotham, one that seemed eerily familiar yet different at the same time. The year was 1974. Thomas and Martha Wayne had just died a week ago.

Tim's mind reeled as he pieced it together. He was in another dimension, another timeline. Here, Bruce was just an eight-year-old boy, devastated and frightened, clinging to Alfred, the only person he had left.

Tim didn’t know how long he’d be stuck here. Days? Weeks? Or maybe a lifetime? With no way to return to his timeline immediately, he decided to stay close to Bruce. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving the grieving child to face his pain alone.

Tim met Bruce one cold evening, under the dim lights of the Wayne Manor gardens. The boy sat on a bench, staring blankly at the empty horizon.

"Hey there," Tim said gently as he approached, crouching down to meet the boy’s eye level. "You okay, kid?"

Bruce looked up, his blue eyes wide with an emotion too complex for someone his age. "Who are you?"

"Just a guy passing through," Tim replied with a soft smile. "Thought you might need some company."

From that night on, Tim became a regular presence at Wayne Manor. Alfred, though initially wary, soon welcomed him as well, noticing how much comfort Tim brought to Bruce. Tim didn’t try to take the place of Bruce’s parents, but he filled in the gaps when he could—teaching him how to defend himself, helping with homework, reading him bedtime stories. Bruce started to look up to him, and slowly, the boy who was once shattered began to heal.

Years passed in this dimension, but for Tim, only a week had gone by in his own timeline. While Bruce grew older, Tim’s youthful appearance remained unchanged. He stayed in his early twenties, just as he had been when he first arrived, though his eyes carried the weight of decades.

As Bruce reached his teenage years, Tim saw the boy become the young man he had always known—driven and determined, with a fierce sense of justice. Tim coached him through those first nights out in a makeshift cowl, always by his side when he stumbled or got hurt. When Bruce officially became Batman, Tim was there, guiding him and offering wisdom from his own experiences. He felt a bittersweet pride watching Bruce grow into the legend, all while knowing he would forever stay the same.

Then came the others. One by one, the Robins arrived, each with their own story and struggles. To them, Tim was something of a grandfather figure—ageless, timeless, and perpetually twenty-something, though his eyes seemed to carry an eternity. Dick was first, the bright acrobat who brought life back to a manor too often drowned in darkness. Jason followed, brash and headstrong, with a chip on his shoulder that Tim softened over time. Tim grew especially fond of Jason, feeling a connection to the anger and hurt the boy carried.

Tim knew when to be strict and when to be lenient, a balance Alfred had shown him in his early days. He mentored each of them differently, understanding their individual needs. Barbara was stubborn but brilliant, eager to prove herself. Tim respected her tenacity and knew exactly when to step back and let her take the lead. He even managed to keep Damian from alienating everyone too quickly, though it took time. Damian couldn’t comprehend Tim’s unaging state and viewed him with suspicion, but in time, he came to see him as family too.

As the years rolled on, Bruce aged into his forties, then fifties. Alfred grew frailer, though he still maintained his poised grace. The Batfamily expanded, forming bonds that extended far beyond blood. And through it all, Tim remained unchanged. His face stayed young, his voice still vibrant, while those around him grayed, wrinkled, and matured.

It was a peculiar fate, Tim thought. He never asked to be a father figure, much less a grandfather to heroes he once knew as his peers. In moments of quiet, he wondered if he would ever return to his own timeline, where barely a week had passed. If he did, what would he find? A world that had moved on without him? Or a Batfamily that never cared much to begin with?

But here, in this timeline, he mattered. He helped shape the heroes of Gotham, was there when Bruce took his first steps as a vigilante, and when Dick made his leap to independence. He saw the laughter, the tears, the heartbreaks, and triumphs. He witnessed the evolution of the Batfamily and, in some ways, became their constant—a timeless presence in an ever-changing world.

If he was stuck in this timeline forever, Tim realized, it wasn’t the worst place to be. At least here, he was part of a family that needed him, a family that loved him—even if they would eventually grow old and pass on while he stayed the same. In the end, he had found his place in a version of Gotham he hadn’t expected.

And maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as estranged from the Batfamily as he thought—because here, he had always been the heart of it.