#cat!tim

Ra’s rubs his thumb over the printed text on simple paper. “I see, so this was everything?” He glances over at the few things the ninjas brought with them, having taken them from the apartment under his instruction after they contacted him when they saw it dark. He’d been very curious after not hearing from his favorite menace for a while, and things seem to be much more interesting than he anticipated.

The paper simply says, “Goodbye.” It was left in the printer, seemingly just left there after having been printed. How unusual for the detective.

“There was evidence of something else, though. It was difficult to notice at first, but it seems the building was recently inhabited for a time by a…” his shadow hesitates, but quickly continues when Ra’s raises an eyebrow, “A cat, my lord.”

“A cat…”

The shadow nods, “After a thorough inspection, facts seem to line up in a way that makes it feasible that this cat might have been the one to shut down the building.”

Ra’s feels quite the spark of intrigue, “How fascinating. If this is the case, was my dear detective perhaps turned into a cat?”

“There shall be a report soon about recent villain attacks and altercations in Gotham very soon. I’ve sent several people to investigate.”

“Excellent,” Ra’s hums, “I will expect the Bats’ recent movements, as well.” The white shadow nods, and the ancient man can’t help but chuckle as he folds up the note. “I wonder what you’ve been up to, dear Timothy.”

_

Tim has been feeling uneasy, recently. He spends more time napping in the cave in the hopes of hearing anything that might explain this feeling, but nothing comes of it. There seems to be an increase in villain activity, but it’s not an unusual thing. Crime always picks up after the holidays, after all.

He considers taking a look himself, but he can’t talk himself into dealing with the sheer trouble it would be to even try.

So, Tim continues to enjoy his time with his family. He lets Dick hold him more often and listens as he complains about being so busy, dealing with both Gotham and Bludhaven. Damian isn’t one to complain, but Tim is more often allowed to stay with him when he spends time drawing in his room or tucked in different corners and windowsills. Alfred and Bruce don’t act much differently, but the one who stands out is Jason.

Right now, it’s another of his and Alfred’s tea-times. The rest of the family is out on patrol, which is what Jason prefers. They seem to be getting along alright these days, or at least seem to be tolerating each other, but Jason doesn’t seem very interested in mending bridges beyond that. Tim doesn’t blame him, even if he hopes they eventually can make amends.

Alfred is off making the tea while Jason makes himself comfortable in the little nook next to the kitchen. Tim is curled up on the table, even if he knows Alfred will be shooing him off when he comes back with the snacks. He’s too interested in enjoying the full-handed head rubs that Jason gives him. The older man chuckles and squishes his face, but it doesn’t hurt and isn’t too uncomfortable, so he just makes a grumpy noise. After another laugh, Jason releases him and returns to his gentler pets.

“You’re such an odd one, Sammers.” The only person he could imagine butchering the name “Salem” like this would be Jason. It’s ridiculous but Tim can’t bring himself to dislike it. “You’re almost as fun to tease as…” Tim is suddenly alert when Jason trails off, his face falling.

After a moment of Jason looking kind of dazed, Tim rubs his head against the unmoving hand. This gets his attention again, and he scratches behind soft ears. “Sorry, Sale. Lost it for a second there, didn’t I?” Tim licks his palm, hoping to encourage him to continue. “Just thinking about a brat that you haven’t met. Something was up and for some reason, I haven’t seen him in ages. I’m definitely not worried, but I am hella curious about what might have happened.”

Startled, Tim doesn’t know how to react to that. Unfortunately, Alfred appears before he can think it through, and he’s shooed off the table. Instead of sticking around, he wanders off in a daze.

Could Jason have been talking about Tim?

He wanders the house with no destination in mind. His mind won’t quiet down, and he does his best to sort it out as he pads down the halls. He wonders and thinks, but in the end he lets it go.

Perhaps if Jason had been more upfront about it, it would linger in his mind more. But the offhanded way he mentioned it and lack of information, he can’t hold onto it long. If it comes up again, maybe it’ll be something to think about.

But Tim is still tired, and he doesn’t want to deal with it. Doesn’t want to deal with any implication that might make his decision waver. He wants to avoid anything he can pass of as insubstantial or inconsequential so he can continue his life here.

He doesn’t want to doubt.

He just wants to live like this, now.

So, he lets the thought go, making his way down to the cave to nap on the computer until someone comes back from patrol.

_

Tim is sure he had been in the kitchen waiting for Alfred to come home with groceries. The man had promised him some salmon if he was patient and Tim was definitely willing to wait for such a treat. He’d never been very interested in fish before turning into a cat, preferring chicken or pork, but becoming a cat changes your priorities in more ways than you’d think.

For some reason, however, he seems to be waking up in an unfamiliar place. It’s colder, for one thing, and the surface he’s on is very soft, when he’s sure he’d dozed off on the table in a comfortable sunbeam.

Then he realizes an odder sensation, when he tries to open his eyes. He feels… flow. Drowsy. IF he’d been human, he’d wonder if he’d been… drugged…?

His eyes open wide at the realization, but the rest of his body is slow to respond. His vision is blurry and he can’t make out anything when he turns to where he hears a soft noise. After blinking and rubbing at his eyes as best he can when feeling so weak, his eyes eventually clear.

Where…?

It’s a simple room, but lavishly decorated in odd ways. The walls are painted bright red and several tapestries are hung around. He looks up and sees colorful fabrics draped along and hanging from a frame above him, encircling a large, round… bed? He reaches a paw out and presses on the surface he lies on. It’s definitely a mattress, though far softer than ones he’s familiar with. The bedding and fabrics are in shades of red, green, silver, and gold. Beyond them, he sees a sparse room, with little else in the way of furniture.

With his inhibited mind, it takes until he looks out the large windows to realise where he is.

The large windows are sealed with thick looking but incredibly clear glass, and show a finely landscaped garden that he’d only seen once before. Unwillingly.

It spurs him into action, but the lack of energy works against him. Not just that, but the bed is so soft that he struggles to get his feet under him. This- Is this intentional? He can’t put it past the man, and his heart rate starts to pick up, his situation suddenly crashing down on him.

At that moment, the only door in the room, hidden partially by one of the tapestries, opens.

“Detective.”

Any steadiness leaves him, and he unwillingly settles back down onto soft blankets.

Footsteps slowly approach, “You do get into the most interesting situations, don’t you?”

He feels faint. His stomach is churning.

Green and gold walks into his line of sight, the familiar green cape open to show more casual attire. His eyes are pulled up by something unknown, and his first thought is the rather banal curiosity of just how recently he went to the pit.

“I was never very interested in animals, but I’ll admit – only to you, my dear – that I think I could now be called a… Ah, yes, a ‘cat person.’”

Ra’s.

He was in the hands of Ra’s al Ghul.

_

“Alfred, what’s wrong?” Bruce asks after patrol. Damian had gone to bed and Dick returned to Bludhaven, so it was quiet for the time being. But his dear butler had a troubled look on his face.

“Nothing, I hope, Master Bruce.” Alfred takes the suit from him for mending, Bruce having gotten slightly nicked by a lucky thug with a knife. “Or dear Salem has disappeared again. It is odd, because I believe he was aware I would be returning with something for him.”

Bruce can’t help his own frown, “That’s unusual. He’s very well behaved when it comes to food.” He pauses in thought, “Almost worryingly so.”

“Hm, I believe whoever cared for him before us did a lackluster job,” Alfred comments with a deeper frown. Bruce sighs and nods in agreement. “Regardless, that is why I’m a bit concerned. He is a free spirit, however, so I will try not to worry too much.”

“Yeah, sounds good, Alfred.” Bruce rests a hand on a thin shoulder, “Keep me updated. We’ll keep an eye out tomorrow and hopefully he’ll be back by then.”

Alfred nods, folding the costume into an easier bundle to carry, “Of course, Master Bruce.”

_

Three days pass and now every Bat is worried. Salem hasn’t returned and after a day of searching, no clues have been found. Not even a single pawprint that could lead anywhere. It was if he had disappeared into thin air.

This is a great cause of concern for them, as after months of living with the creature, they’re aware of Salem’s habits and quirks. The cat is far too attached to them to leave, and he’s never done something like hiding his tracks. Granted, if he disappears into the city on one of his excursions, it’s easy to lose him, but that’s not unusual.

He’s also returned within a day every time up until now.

Dick rushed back from Bludhaven the evening after he disappeared, when Bruce had sent him a notice about the situation. Currently he’s pacing back and forth on the mats in the Batcave, mumbling to himself. Damian, when he looks over, looks about 30 seconds away from impaling Dick with the blade he’s sharpening. A firm look makes sure he won’t, but he understands that Dick’s pacing isn’t helping anyone.

“Dick,” Bruce calls, “if you need to work out that energy, get on the bars.”

“No! I want to go out and look for him!” Dick protests, crossing his arms as he turns to Bruce.

“It’s too dark, you wouldn’t be able to find him.”

“How do you know?” Bruce looks over his shoulder, away from the screen he’s been staring at for too long, and gives Dick a look. The man sinks in on himself and sighs, upset, “Yeah, okay. Sorry. I’m just worried.”

“I know,” he consoles, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his eyes, “None of us are unconcerned, but panicking and rushing things won’t do us any good.”

Dick plops himself down on the mats with another, deeper sigh. Damian stops holding his very sharp blade so tightly, now that the man has stopped.

Just when Bruce is contemplating between going back to the computer or going out on an actual patrol, there’s a notice from the garage and soon they hear the rumbling of a motorcycle. Standing, he allows himself a moment to stretch before heading over. “Computer says Jay,” he comments, and Dick springs up to follow.

Jason is parked by the time they reach him, and he quick to take of his helmet. There’s no time for pleasantries, however, as he looks over to the two of them with a dark look on his face that stops them in their tracks.