Chapter Text
Catwoman had had her eyes on the Drake Estate for quite a while now and had noticed some valuable things to note. For one, the Drakes were constantly out of the country, showing up for galas and meetings to make appearances before immediately leaving again. Leaving behind an empty, yet immaculate house that was cleaned by staff every Friday, 8 am to 3 pm, for maintenance. But that was just details, what really caught her eye was the ever growing collection of illegal artifacts and money that were being smuggled into the home. With all the other ridiculous showings of wealth, the family could afford to lose a few artifacts that didn’t even belong to them.
She had elected to wait on breaking in however due to the recent uptick in Scarecrow's attacks that ended with the streets being swamped in fear gas and other chemicals for weeks. Considering she wasn’t in the mood for wearing a gas mask 24/7, she elected to cut down on crime until it fully dispelled.
Now however it seemed she stumbled across a stroke of luck. The Drakes left for Peru several weeks ago at the start of December. With barely a week till Christmas, the gasses finally subsided enough to make Gotham's already questionable air quality back to a "normal" degree. It was time to get herself an early Christmas present, curtesy of the Drakes. Even better, she now had a paying customer demanding an artifact of theirs be returned to Nigeria so win-win. She would be making more money than if she had just waltzed into the home last month to take the items, her client's property would be returned, and she was at leisure to take as much as she saw fit.
Which is what brought her to Drake Manor, 2 am in the morning in the freezing cold.
She was thankful for the thermal suit she remembered to wear but was still looking forward to getting out of the cold and into the hopefully warmer house.
After a couple seconds of fiddling with the window in the living room, it popped open with a light click and Catwoman slipped in with practiced ease, still careful of making sound but not as concerned as she usually would be with the lack of people. This would be child's play.
She looked around the house. Because that was what it was… a house… not a home.
There was a large and pretentious portrait on the wall of the Drakes, but aside from that, there were no pictures of the family that lived there. Jack and Janet Drake were known for being perfectionists but usually there were at least signs of life in abandoned homes, especially ones that at some point inhabited children. Children that Selina knew the Drakes had from her research. In fact, the only proof that a child may have lived here at all was from the portrait on the wall and his sightings at various galas. There were no toys, no stains, nothing. Of course that could be written off due to their many absences from the home or a very good housekeeper, there was no dust so she knew there was someone had cleaned recently in the Drake's absence. Luckily she would be long gone before staff noticed anything off.
She crept through the silent, uncomfortably cold house and made her way to where she believed the artifact room was if the blueprints she found were accurate. She checked repeatedly for security and what she found was rather surprising. There was nothing more than the bare basics of security throughout the house. The windows had a small alarm that had been ridiculously easy to take down and more than half the cameras in the house were broken or easy to avoid.
When she found her target room she was met with a fingerprint scanner for identification and quickly slipped a print she had encased in wax from over a month ago at the last gala the Drake’s attended (she gained the fingerprint after talking up Janet Drake when she was at the end of one of her drinks of the night (she ended up having several) and offering to take the glass for her when she was done). Stepping into the room she felt her breath hitch a little, the small collection of priceless stolen artifacts appeared to have been larger than she initially thought. A dragon’s hoard would be a far better descriptor of it in her humble opinion. What truly set the room apart however was the uptake in security. State of the art cameras lined every corner of the room, every item was protected by thick glass and had what she had identified as a silent alarm next to every artifact should any of the glass be tampered with.
Luckily, she was prepared she thought gleefully as she used a small slingshot to coat each camera in a disintegrating paint that would last a couple hours and approached the most vital pieces with a strong magnet she brought. She turned off each of the alarms one by one and carefully cut the glass on the corner where it would be unnoticed until a more thorough investigation. She wrapped each item carefully in a sturdy, waterproof blanket and stored as many pieces as she could before taking her leave. Most of what she took was on the smaller size to be unnoticed for a while, she didn’t believe she could carry much of the larger pieces without causing them damage anyway, which in her mind was just a tad bit crueler than leaving them all to rot in this dark, cold, unappreciative house.
As she made her way out of the room and into the hall she smiled to herself at her trophies and stolen jewelry from the master bedrooms. And to think, Batman lived just down the street and didn’t even notice she was here.
Her smile froze however when a light flicked on over her head as she passed into the living room.
Who was here?! Had the Drake’s returned early? She thought their expedition would last at least another two weeks!
Her breath hitched, and she quickly switched her grip on her bag to grasp her whip and turned around to find-
… A child.
. . .
Tim had woken up in a cold sweat. The Grayson's fall still stuck in his mind vividly, but he didn’t let himself cry or yell out, his parents were always so mad when he did saying you have no reason to be waking up everyone else in this house with your issues, deal with them yourself like a big boy, we have important things to deal with tomorrow and need our rest.
Not to mention he feared the tears would just make his headache far worse than it already was.
It was the main reason he had elected to stay home that night, he thinks he was suffering from a minor cold. Which was honestly a huge relief because usually when he got sick it got pretty bad, but he thinks he just picked up a small head cold from someone on the street the other day, maybe after he dropped those anonymous tips to the commissioners office and decided to visit a pretty shifty diner that looked like it was skimping out on its health code procedures. He decided to avoid going out to look for Batman and Robin until he wasn’t so tired and his head didn’t hurt every time he looked at the screen of his camera. He had a feeling it would only last another day or two, he was certainly still fine to go to school, though he looked forward to it ending in a few days.
Wiping the sweat from his forehead and the residue of tears that had slipped out, Tim stood and walked silently (aside from a few sniffles) in the direction of the kitchen to get a glass of water. (He picked up the silent habit watching Batman and it was a habit that served him well in avoiding being caught and yelled at by his parents or crooks on the street). He was pleased to note that the bruises on his arms had finally faded and the ache in his legs subsided a bit after not being on them for a few days.
Turning on the living room light with a yawn, Close your mouth Timothy! We don't need you acting so carelessly and indecent like that in such a respectable place! That quickly turned into a yelp when he saw what was in the room.
A woman.
No, wait… Catwoman!
He couldn’t help but gape at the master burglar herself standing in his house. What was she doing in his house?!
After a few more moments of just watching each other across the room, Tim hesitantly stepped forward. He knew she wouldn’t hurt him. This was Catwoman after all! He had seen her around Gotham many times before, he knew she often helped poor kids and women on the street and usually stole what was already stolen goods.
Maybe that's why she’s here.
Tim hated how much his parents stole, how often they left him behind so they could do so. They never let him into the artifact room claiming he was too clumsy or dirty to be around such important pieces of history despite the fact that aside from one vase he had knocked down by accident when he was three, he never broke anything and was careful to keep himself as clean and careful as possible. Especially around his parents' things… which was essentially everything.
Still fumbling with his surprise for another moment he walked forward and got himself a glass of water as he initially intended. He paused for a moment, it was only polite to offer, and Tim was nothing if not polite.
“Would you like some water Miss Catwoman?” he asked shyly. He was unsure if it was wrong of him to offer his family’s burglar a drink, but he also found he didn’t mind if she took some of the artifacts or jewels, his family had more than enough, most of them they shouldn’t even have in the first place. Sure his parents would be mad but when were they not?
When Catwoman didn’t answer he decided to elaborate.
“O-or if there’s anything else you would like… it’s alright if you don't want anything… sorry.” he ended awkwardly.
He turned back to his water to hide his blush at his fumbling, he was making a fool of himself like this!
“... I wouldn’t mind some water.”
Looking up in surprise at the woman he quickly got over himself and grabbed another cup from the cabinet, filling it up and leaving it on the table for her.
She took it slowly with much consideration and more than one look in his direction, but Tim couldn’t decipher what the look meant, only that he was still a little starstruck being in the presence of someone as cool as Catwoman!
. . .
The boy in question was small, far smaller than your average kid. Looking at him she would have sworn he was maybe five or six years old, but if her memory was correct, he should be closer to seven or eight by now.
It was perplexing, kids shouldn’t be this small! She usually only saw this in kids from the street, not from these rich kids. Perhaps he was just a late bloomer.
“What’s your name?” she asked. She had to be certain this was the same boy from the painting on the wall, not just some squatter or something, as unlikely as it was.
“Tim.”
So it is the Drake Heir, I wonder what he is doing here now? He likely has a nanny of some sort somewhere she should be wary of running into. Speaking of which, his reaction to her was also quite intriguing. He wasn’t scared, he wasn’t yelling for help or sounding any alarms. Which meant he was either very stupid… or very brave.
Turning to him she decided to find out. “Do you know who I am?”
He in turn looked up to her and shrugged “Catwoman, obviously.” Before realizing what he said and blushing profusely at his bluntness, Catwoman simply smiled, so he must be brave then.
“Do you know why I'm here?” She didn’t expect him to know about how illegal his parents' treasures were. Parents generally hid such transgressions from their kids or else risk that they tell on them to someone.
He shrugged again and motioned to the bag that hung over her shoulder. “You’re here to steal back some of my parents artifacts.” He said matter of factly to Catwoman’s pleasure and surprise. “I've seen you do things like that before where you return them to their respective owners or cultures.”
“And you’re not upset by that? Or nervous?”
“No… You help a lot of people with the money you steal, and the artifacts belong to their native countries, not my parents. I don't think you would hurt me if I sounded the alarm anyway so why should I be nervous?”
Catwoman hummed, the boy was quite intelligent. She did indeed never intend to harm the boy and the artifacts were going to be returned to their respective owners if she could locate them (especially if their respective owners were willing to pay for them). Though she hadn't expected the boy to be so self aware of his parents activities. Even disdainful she might add. Though it did bring to mind again why this boy was seemingly home alone. Where were his parents? Or Nanny?
“Where are your parents? Certainly you're not here alone. Where is your nanny?” she asked. It was one thing to run into a child during a mission, it was far more concerning if they were alone, because what if she had been someone far less savory. There are far worse people in Gotham who wouldn’t hesitate to harm this boy if his house was targeted.
The boy in question, Tim, she reminded herself shuffled his feet, his eyes glued to the floor. “My parents are away right now, and besides I’m more than old enough to take care of myself, I don’t need a nanny!” He said indignantly looking more like a bristling kitten than anything.
If she was correct, his parents had left several weeks ago. Had this young, kind boy been alone all that time?
It was something that concerned her thoroughly and she wasn't quite sure what to do. She heard all sorts of stories of children who got killed or injured in break ins and accidents in Gotham, and for his parents' reputation it wouldn’t be surprising if someone decided to target the house or the boy. However if she reported the situation it would either be shoved under the rug by bribes or he would likely be placed in foster care and she knew very well how messed up the system was in Gotham. Most children suffered abuse in toxic homes, became runaways, or were sent by corrupt police officers or child care workers to work for criminals to make their keep.
In the end, Catwoman settled for the lesser of two evils in her mind. Absent parents were still better than abusive ones, he at least had a roof over his head and plenty of food, she had no doubt he could indeed take care of himself (even if some part of her mind kept whispering that he shouldn’t have to, she couldn’t afford to think like that in this line of business).
She looked back at him with a slight hum.
“Why don’t you go back to bed now, hm Kitten?”
The boy gave her a slight pout but obeyed without complaint. She followed to make sure he was indeed going to bed and took note of the barren room that matched the rest of the desolate house. No child's bedroom should ever be this bare, there were no toys, no posters or pictures, just some clothes and electronics spread around on the desk and floor.
She began to leave when his quiet voice called out to her one last time stopping her in her tracks.
“I won’t tell anyone… about you being here that is. Mrs Mac or my parents might notice something missing but that won’t be for a while… and thank you, I know it's odd to thank the person stealing from your family but… I’m glad those old artifacts are going back where they belong.” He looked away as he finished quietly, so quietly Catwoman needed to strain her ears to hear him correctly and when she did she felt her heart break for this child.
It wasn’t like her to feel such sympathy for the rich, but this boy, he wasn’t living the life she would have expected from others like him. He was kind and polite, intelligent and oh so brave. His room was devoid of toys or decor, his parents were absent. He deserved better than being left behind in this cold barren house. Not home. House.
“Stay safe Kitten.” She whispered to him as she left.
Concerned someone worse than her may try to attack the ill defended house, Catwoman left a small bit of her own security to the window. If someone unsavory tried to enter, it would alert her. She assumed it would never come to use, she wouldn’t come to think of the boy anymore, if the alarm were to be triggered she would simply alert the police. She was wiping her hands of the matter.
. . .
However, if anyone were to find the strange appearance of several presents in the living room come Christmas morning, including one small plush cat, paid for with his parents money, there was nothing anyone could do to prove it was her.