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Chapter Text

Familiar faces filled Tim’s vision. There was Mrs Glasswater with her ruby necklace and her son, and Mr Powers with his bodyguards. Mr and Mrs Aubert were there too. The last time he’d seen them, they were making a deal with his parents. There were more faces he didn’t recognise, and a huge man he’d sworn he’d seen before, wearing thick glasses and a large coat. Ms Carvajal was dining in the background. She was the bane of Tim’s gala visits, always pinching his cheeks and cooing at him about how cute he was. And sure, it was kind of nice to get attention, but after a while it started getting uncomfortable.

Not nearly as uncomfortable as the greed with which she scrutinised his body now, in between her slices of salmon.

These events were nothing new to Tim. There was always some big announcement, or charity gala, or fancy party that his parents were dragging him to, showing him off when they wanted to gush about his smarts, then shoving him to the corner, usually to be entertained by Jason.

He liked Jason. Jason didn’t treat him like a dumb kid or a burden.

He wished Jason was here, or the neighbour, Bruce Wayne, or even just his parents, even though it was probably really messed up that he still loved them, after what they had done. He wished more than anyone else that there was somebody here with him so he could hide behind him and escape the cold, calculating gazes of the richest elite in Gotham, all picking apart every inch of his exposed body. He wished he was still human.

The tank of water which had been his prison bore nothing but jagged, geometric corners and an impenetrable lid. There was nothing to hide himself but his own tail, a twisted amalgamation of his former legs. His milky pale skin, with a complexion that had his parents worrying for his health, it was all gone. He had watched the man in the pig mask peel it off like rotten orange, revealing a blindingly bright hide of red scales. It was his new “beauty” that had his parents’ friends clamoring for him.

“Oh goodness, he looks absolutely gorgeous!” Mrs Glasswater said. Tim’s left ear fin was pressed to the glass out of sight, his hearing keen enough to pick up every word in the room. Every comment sent shivers of fear down his spine and through his fins, but he would not dare stop.

“He’d make a great addition to the new aquarium I’m buying. They say he’s obedient, too. Wouldn’t take long to get him to jump through hoops for a crowd,” Mr Cobblepot said.

“Wonder if he sings pretty.”

“How quickly do his scales regrow? A couple harvests and I’ll have the loveliest dress.”

“Does he obey orders?”

It was like he wasn’t a person anymore. The way they talked about him, it was like he was a glorified vase than a kid with feelings and a distinct desire to not be here. Try as he might, he was trapped.

A finely dressed man rose to the top of the stage with a gavel. The bidding began. Vainly, a part of Tim hoped that maybe he wasn’t that valuable. Maybe he wasn’t that interesting. His parents didn’t think of him as worth much other than money. Maybe all the meanest people in the room would lose interest, and a kindly person might bid ten dollars and let him live in their bathtub.

Ten thousand dollars. Twenty thousand. One hundred thousand. It was wishful thinking, in the end. The reality of his fate sank its claws deep into his chest. Before long, he was tuning out the raucous bidding war taking place outside the glass.

~~

Shatter. Crack.

Tim stood there, motionless. Hundreds of eyes were on him, or the hundreds of shards of priceless Roman ceramic scattered on the floor below him. Jason looked at him with terror, his parents with shock.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry,” Tim began, but he could not stutter another world before his father’s hand clamped down on his shoulder with an iron grip, presenting a tight smile to the audience.

“Looks like nobody was hurt, which is the most important thing. Accidents happen all the time, and what matters is making sure we’re all ok,” his father said. “Now, I’m sure young Timothy is quite worn out now. Janet and I have been filling his schedule with all sorts of extracurriculars. I think it’s time for you to go to your room, Timothy.”

Tim flinched at the venom in his dad’s voice, the kind that promised great punishment. In short order, Tim was escorted wordlessly to his room, still trapped under his father’s iron grip.

“Stay here,” his dad hissed, and left the room, and Tim obeyed, dreading what would come next. Would they yell at him? Take away his camera? Would they send him off to military school just like what happened to his classmate in 5^th grade?

Tim waited there for a long time, long past when the gala was done. Night fell, and the exhaustion in his body overtook the anxiety keeping him awake. Maybe they forgave him, if they hadn’t come back.

The next morning, he repeated to himself the assurance that maybe, just maybe things were going to be ok.

He crept out of his room and down to the dining room for breakfast, and also to beg for forgiveness, if that was necessary – and it likely was. Instead, he heard harsh whispers. Tim pressed himself against the wall, and listened closely.

“That vase was a gift from Martha! Bruce Wayne is going to be furious!” his mother hissed out. “And what took you so long? It was a nightmare getting everyone under control again.”

“I put Timothy in his room and came back as soon as I could. Now what do we do?”

“I don’t know. This is the latest in his blunders, and the worst of all. Our image is sinking by the minute. I can feel it.”

“What did we do wrong, honey? I thought we raised that boy right! All he had to do was stay still and be quiet, and yet he failed at the simple task of doing nothing.” His father grumbled with frustration. Pain spiked in Tim’s heart. He’d tried his best! He always tried to do his best for his parents.

“I think we should try again, Jack. We have failed to raise Timothy properly, and this has been weighing on my mind for a while. Just the other day, Penelope told me she felt creeped out by how quiet he is, and how he’s always watching people.”

“My goodness. What are you saying?”

“Jack, I think we should have another child, and make sure they do turn out like Timothy.”

Tim’s mind twisted.  He’d always wanted a brother or sister, but his joy was tempered with an ugly jealousy that he hated himself for. Was he really that bad of a son?

Quietly, he pried himself from the wall, not wanting to hear anything more. The pain was enough. He tip-toed back to his room, where he buried himself in his blankets.

~~

His parents didn’t come to speak to him until the evening, when his mother knocked at his door.

“Timothy? Pack your bags. We’re sending you to boarding school.”

There it was.

“B-but Mother, I like going to Gotham Academy.”

“Listen to your mother, Timothy. Do you understand how much trouble you’ve caused us? Pack your bags now. Your car is already about to arrive.”

The sharp bite in her voice kicked him into motion, mindlessly putting clothes and toiletries into a suitcase. Within thirty minutes, Tim had a suitcase ready, and tears prickling his eyes. Betrayal and self-hatred rolled in his stomach. He felt sick.

His mother was waiting in the foyer of the mansion, tapping her feet impatiently. Tim silently joined her as she escorted him outside. A smooth limousine was parked in front of the mansion, with a burly man smoking a cigarette leaning on the trunk. Immediately, Tim was on edge. The driver was not what a chauffeur normally looked like.

“Don’t be so sad, Timothy. This is an opportunity for you to further your education, and gain some much-needed discipline,” his mother said. Her voice, which once soothed him, only put him further on edge. “Now go. Your father and I love you.”

He didn’t like this. He wanted to go back to his room, but his mother’s expectant gaze pushed him onward, into the limo. The driver gave him a hungry look that made his skin crawl.

The door closed behind him as he took his seat. Tim peered out the window, looking at his mother. Just then the driver walked up to her and handed over a large briefcase. His mother nodded at him and smiled. It was then that Tim learned the terrifying truth, something that he could not deny as much as he lied to himself.

He wasn’t going to boarding school. His parents had sold him.

The rest blurred into memory. The limousine took him to a dank warehouse. The driver grabbed him, at which point his adrenaline finally kicked in, and he made a desperate attempt to fight him off. That only earned him a bruised belly and slap mark on his cheek. The driver – no, the goon­ – dragged him to a dark room, past cages full of people, some with collars clamped around their necks. Tim was not put in a cage, but brought straight to a plain door at the end of the room.

There, they stripped him of his clothing, bound him to an operating table as the mad scientist with the pig mask did his work. Mercifully, Tim fell unconscious soon after.

~~

Tim blinked slowly. Most of the bidders had given up by now, it seemed, with the last few bids going between Mr Cobblepot and Mr Powers. The price tag on his life had climbed into staggering numbers so big the auctioneer was having trouble keeping his breath.

Sirens were not new to the world. They’d recently been discovered by the wider world after a hugely controversial report by a husband and wife team of marine biologists. Little was known about them, and Tim was definitely sure nobody knew humans could be turned into sirens. Despite having been submerged for hours, the gills along Tim’s chest provided him with the oxygen to suffer to live, and suffer fully his fate. Tim knew that cutting off his legs and stitching a tail to them would not have altered the few structure of his internal organs. The transformation imposed on him was thorough, methodical, and absolute.

He didn’t know what was worse. The fact that he would never see his parents again, the fact that he would never walk again, or the fact that, even if he somehow escaped into the ocean, he’d be a dead fish within the week. He had no survival skills that a human would know, let alone a siren, and it was unlikely a kindly siren adult would pick him up. His parents always talked about how, despite their beauty, sirens were savages who devoured stray children they found, be them human or sirens themselves. It was because children were just more mouths to feed for them, so unless they were the siren’s own offspring, most just wouldn’t bother.

Then again, Tim was his parent’s son, and he ended up being nothing more than a mouth to feed still.

At last, the gavel struck.

“And sold to the man in the tuxedo! Thank you all for coming and there will be more merchandise for you peruse after our break! We’re just getting started folks, so buckle in!” the auctioneer called out to the applause of the crowd.

Two people in eerie blank masks came to Tim’s tank and rolled it off its elevated position in the room, pushing behind the stage to await his new buyer.

Wasn’t Mr Cobblepot one of Batman’s main enemies, or at least suspected to be with the mafia? Cruel images terrorised Tim’s mind of what his future would be. At best he would be made into some kind of pampered pet, never knowing freedom. At worst, he’d be forced to become some kind of evil villain sidekick, and Tim didn’t want that!

Maybe being an evil villain sidekick wouldn’t be so bad. It meant he’d get a chance to meet Batman, and maybe Batman might even rescue him.

~~

It wasn’t Mr Cobblepot himself who came to collect him, but a group of masked men who laughed raucously, and leered at him. One of them tapped on the glass, frightening Tim and sending him darting for the opposite side of the glass, to the goons’ sick amusement. They took Tim’s tank and lifted it up, taking it through a back door in the warehouse and up onto a truck.

In the distance, Tim heard the sounds of fighting. Hope bloomed in his chest. Batman and Robin were here?! He bashed his shoulder against the class and slammed his tail into it. Tim leveraged his transformed vocal chords and screeched as loud as he could.

His efforts earned an angry bang on the glass from one of the goons, but Tim persisted in his efforts, desperate to slow them down and get the attention of his heroes. Look! I’m over here! Save me, Batman! The goons yelled some nasty swear words and picked up the pace, quickly loading him into the truck. Tim whimpered fearfully as the truck’s doors came down, casting him in darkness.

An uncomfortable rumble filled the tank and shook his fins. The water sloshed as the truck sputtered to life. Tim felt a force shunt him to the back of the tank as it accelerated dangerously.

~~

“We have the evidence,” Bruce muttered into his comm. The mask of Matches Malone carefully shielded the rage that had been building up for an hour. Pyg’s new business venture had claimed hundreds of victims, turning their bodies into sirens against their will through a painful process, and then selling them like common cattle.

But Bruce wasn’t alone. Batman’s days of fighting alone were long behind him.

Nightwing, Robin, Batgirl, Batwoman and Black Canary were all gathered on the rooftops. In the meantime, ‘Matches Malone’ had been quietly sabotaging security and gathering evidence. Cameras, microphones, receipts, records of previous purchases, the whole nine yards. Dick had begged to go undercover with him, and Bruce knew his eldest was ready, but part of him still wanted to keep Dick safe, leading him to go in alone. By the end of his mission, Bruce had enough to put every person in the room away for a very, very long time. More importantly, he had the means to pursue the many victims who had been sold by Pyg before.

Penguin would waste no time in moving the boy he’d just bought to a secure location.

“Move in now,” Bruce said, giving the signal. He calmly rose from his position in the dining room, heading out into the empty hallway. Recalling the floor plan, he quickly snuck into where he knew the holding area would be. His team gave their confirmations as the sounds of glass shattering and shouting filled the comms. The undercover vigilante quickly picked the lock on the door and entered the holding area.

He heard the boom of a truck’s engine, and the distinct lack of any captive siren. His mind went on autopilot. He couldn’t let them get away. Bruce broke into a mad sprint, crashing out the back door and leaping into the first car he could get his hands on. Jason was in good hands with the others, and he was only here undercover, meaning he’d left most of his bat gear at home.

That was fine, because nobody would be talking about how Bruce Wayne chasing down an unmarked truck at midnight. Matches Malone could do whatever he wanted. Bruce hotwired the car as easy as breathing and slammed the ignition.

He had caught sight of the retreating truck, heading towards the Narrows. Not giving them any time, he raced to intercept the delivery.

~~

Tim had settled into the corner of the tank, resting his head on his arms in attempt to calm himself from the deep fear and worry that plagued him, but no such peace came. The road was too bumpy, the engine too loud. It left him in a tired state where he was doing nothing and yet could not rest.

He wondered if he deserved this or not, if there was some secret formula to being a good son that he simply didn’t get, and that was why his parents had sold him like cattle. Maybe this was what he was meant for, all along. Perhaps his parents never even wanted him, and all he’d ever been to them was a burden.

He hoped Mr Cobblepot would treat him nicely, and not flush him down the toilet like a goldfish. Tim didn’t think he would survive if any sewage got into his gills.

Suddenly, the truck jerked to the side. Tim yelped as his tank was flung to the side wall of the truck, sending the water splashing everywhere. A screeching metallic crash filled the truck. The tank flew to the front of the truck’s holding area, sending Tim crashing into the glass as the vehicle came to a complete stop.

For a precious moment, there was silence, then faint shouting, and the sounds of fighting. Then it went silent again. Tim held his breath. His mind raced with possibilities of what had happened. Maybe, just maybe, Batman really did manage to catch up with him.

The truck doors slid open, forced by a large, imposing figure. “B-batman?” Tim chirped with blooming hope.

Only, there was something wrong. Where was Batman’s cape? And his cowl? The figure stepped closer, and Tim focused his vision, using his stronger eyesight in the dark.

That wasn’t Batman at all. In fact, it was one of the auction buyers. Tim recognised the green suit and tie and the strong stature, hidden underneath a fedora. Immediately, shivers broke all along Tim’s scales like scalpels raking over them. He pressed himself against the glass, clicking fearfully.

Perhaps Mr Malone was upset that he didn’t get to buy Tim, so he sought out to steal him from Mr Cobblepot anyway.

Mr Malone walked up to him, tranquil fury on his face. “It’s alright. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said, in an almost soothing. Tim was small, but he wasn’t stupid. It was all lies. Everything was lies. His parents’ love for him was a lie.

“We need to get out of here,” Mr Malone said. “Penguin will be sending more men here soon.”

Tim wasn’t sure which of the two was worse. He wasn’t going to get a choice in the end. Mr Malone pulled out a small tool out of his pocket and in seconds, the lock sealing Tim’s tank was popped off. Tim’s hackles rose, and then Mr Malone did the unthinkable. He reached into the water.

The moment Mr Malone’s hands touched the water, a pulse of electrified alarm shot up Tim’s spine. Every nerve was on edge. It was like a dinosaur had tipped its jaw into the tank, sniffing out for prey. Tim froze, weakly whimpering, unable to stop the stranger from hooking his huge, broad arms underneath his tail and shoulders.

It was only as he was being lifted up that he realised what was going to happen. Tim screeched, thrashing in the stranger’s grip. He didn’t want to suffocate! Didn’t Mr Malone know that sirens couldn’t breathe air?!

No sooner did he begin his struggles did a harsh, deep click fill the air, a siren’s call that did not come from his own throat. The note was liquid obedience, and Tim fell limp, his heart hammering with terror at the idea of defying the invisible order. What was happening to him? Was Mr Malone using some kind of mind control?

Mr Malone pulled Tim out of the water and Tim shut his eyes, preparing for the aching feeling of suffocation that happened every time he stuck his face above the water. His chest constricted on itself with the mounting pressure.

“Relax,” Mr Malone rumbled. “Let your body relax, and you’ll be able to breathe.”

But he couldn’t relax. He was drowning in air. He was drowning in fresh air where was Batman when you needed him he didn’t want to die somebody help-

Mr Malone pressed Tim to his chest, and inexplicably, Tim felt a powerful rumbling emanating from deep within the fancy suit, like a massage chair, or a cat’s purr. The gentle vibrations seeped into his flesh, turning his body into putty as every muscle relaxed.

Tim’s gills opened. The boy shuddered at such a vulnerable part of his body being exposed, but that was swept away by the sheer relief. Water cascaded out of his lungs, dripping down his scales and soaking Mr Malone’s probably very expensive suit. Tim didn’t care enough to worry, because he could breathe again. He sucked in a desperate, greedy gasp of air, letting it fill his dying body with life again.

The relief in his chest, combined with the continued vibrations from Mr Malone’s, put Tim into a kind of trance. He let himself be carried to a beaten up car, where Mr Malone set him down on the back seat atop a pile of wet blankets.

“I’m sorry I have to be so hasty, guppy, but we need to get you to safety as soon as possible. I hope you’ll forgive me,” Mr Malone said in a deep, kind voice, not at all upset about how ruined his suit was. He looked him in the eye, before shutting the car door, and getting into the driver’s seat.

As tired as Tim was, as suspicious this man was and how his trust had been broken so grievously before, he allowed a tiny flickering hope to come to life inside of him.

Distantly, Tim heard honking sounds and screeching tires. Mr Malone started the car. Tim was thrown into the back of the seat as they rolled out of the street at max speed.

~~

Penguin had learned of his interference faster than Bruce had expected. He didn’t want his first impression with the guppy to be this bad, but they had no time. The car he’d stolen to rescue the guppy – he really needed to ask the boy’s name soon – was no Batmobile, and Bruce quickly found his pursuers gaining on him. With that, he made the only logical decision: to turn back to the harbour.

Gunfire peppered the back of the car, forcing Bruce to put his head down. The humid air of the docks brushed past the car as they returned to the harbour. Bruce tapped his comm as he directed the gunman further away from the warehouse, lest they get any ideas.

“I’ve got the guppy and a tail. Three cars, at least two gunmen. I’m pulling a Nightwing maneouver. Don’t wait for me,” Bruce relayed as he made a dizzying turn.

~~

Tim’s mind was in overdrive. That tiny flicker of hope turned into a flame as dozens of hours of spy and detective movies flashed in his mind. Mr Malone was an alias, and the man driving the car in front of him was obviously a super spy of some kind. No random mobster could drive a car like this. Tim didn’t even mind the way he was thrown around by the jerky movements of Mr Malone’s driving as he waved between his pursuers. The boy chirped with excitement, his eyes going wide as he realised he was in the presence of a real life superhero.

“I’ve got the guppy and a tail. Three cars, at least two gunmen. I’m pulling a Nightwing maneouver. Don’t wait for me,” the large man barked.

If Tim’s admiration could get any larger, his heart might burst. This person knew Nightwing! He opened his mouth, eager to spurt off a dozen questions, when the crack of gunfire cut off his words.

They were still in danger. Instead of getting in the way, Tim held tight to his seat as a salty scent filled the air. Wait, wasn’t this the harbour?

“Brace yourself, chum!” Mr Malone shouted.

Brace himself for what?

Tim felt weightless. And then there was a deafening crash as water flooded into the car. The rushing water crashed into his body from both sides of the car, knocking the air straight out of his lungs as his gills started filtering it out. In his disorientation, Tim barely noticed the thick hand grabbing him and pulling him out of the sunken vehicle.

Mr Malone pulled him away as the man started to swim at a rapid speed unlike any human, dragging Tim behind him. Tim looked up at the surface, at the humans leaning over the edge in wonder at their escape.

But wait! Mr Malone was going to drown! Tim had to get him to the surface!

Only, as Tim looked back to his saviour, he noticed a shoe floating past him. Then the other shoe. In fact, Mr Malone’s clothes were ripping at the seams. Tim watched in deep horror as the pale skin of his legs melted away into sheets of gray shark skin. Dagger-like fins ripped through his clothes, and his legs fused together into a powerful tail, thicker than Tim’s entire body.

Tim’s heart froze colder than a caught tuna. The man who had saved him from Mr Penguin wasn’t doing it out of the goodness of his heart, but because he himself was a siren, and Tim was an easy meal.

With unexpected strength, Tim wretched his arm out of the shark siren’s grip. Without looking behind him, Tim picked a direction and swam far, far into the water. He didn’t care if the cold was already seeping into his skinny frame. He didn’t care for his captor’s shouting, and he didn’t care that he had no way to survive. He just swam, fear and adrenaline burning through his muscles and carrying him into the dark unknown.

Chapter Text

His eyes caught the edge of a cave in the faint light of the choked-out moon. The promise of safety gave him one last burst of energy, with which Tim angled his body downward. However, his turn was too sharp. The water weighed heavy on his body as he came crashing down, face burying itself in the sand. There was no time to groan at the crash as he quickly recovered, dragging himself by his arms into the cave.

There, his adrenaline subsided. The cave was dark, cramped and small, but it at least provided protection against the predator out for his blood. Tim pressed himself into the furthest corner of the rock and curled up on himself like a ball, trembling. His chest heaved, gills straining to pump through his stress. His fins twitched and slapped against the sand, unable to stay still through the stress. He watched the mouth of the cave like a hawk. Each second that passed without incident only ratcheted up the tension and wait for the next.

Tim waited. The huge, scary adult siren that disguised as a human had not come for him, yet. Hopefully, Tim would see him coming and have a chance to escape. He pulled his tail closer to himself, but winced. His entire lower half ached, and his upper half burned like acid in his blood. After spending so long trapped in a tank, the burst of movement he’d made to escape the adult siren had put his body, which was already never that impressive, to the limit.

Even if he saw the adult siren coming, Tim didn’t stand a chance in escaping. He was powerless. His body was shaped like a siren, but he was no ocean dweller, and the state of his body after just a few minutes in the water proved that.

And that, beyond all other things, terrified him the most. If the adult siren found him, he had no hope of escape. But even if the predator left him alone, Tim would still be a lone kid in the middle of nowhere in the wild. He couldn’t very easily just pull himself to the beach and walk home. And even if, somehow, he could, he doubted he’d be very welcome.

There was a very real possibility the ocean would be his watery grave. His gills and tail, the tools that would give a stronger kid a fighting chance, only served to delay the inevitable.

A tear wet his cheek. The physical exhaustion met with his mental tiredness, and Tim fell to a fitful sleep.

The sweet embrace of sleep did not last long. He awoke soon after to a powerful scent. It brought to mind pure strength, the scent of a predator. Groggy, Tim rubbed his eyes, unsure of how much time had passed. The fog in his brain remained up until the appearance of two webbed hands at the entrance of the cave.

Tim screamed. Desperation took over and he scrambled to avoid the reach of the siren that had finally found him. He pressed his body against the stone as if it would pass through the solid barrier, bending and bruising his dorsal fin. Tim didn’t notice the pain, the panic being far more potent. The hands resembled a human shape, but possessed claws strong enough to cut his tender flesh to ribbons. The claws came closer, right above his tailfin. Sensing the danger, Tim grabbed his own tail and pulled it closer, ignoring the aches of pain from the disturbed scales.

In his trembling panic, he pulled his tail in too quickly, the fin billowing upward and brushing against the tips of the adult siren’s fingers.

Tim’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. He had barely a second to scream before the arms ventured deeper. His sensitive scales lit aflame as the clawed hands wrapped around his belly. This was it. Tim’s throat spewed desperate clicks and trills, pleas for mercy as the iron grip tightened around his soft body, forcibly pulling him out of the water.

The adult siren was huge. If he looked large as a human, then up close in the water, Tim felt like an ant. He cried out, his tailfin slapping uselessly against the thick hide of his captor. All it did was bruise himself. Enthralled by hysterical fear, Tim shrieked and screamed in vain hopes of some good Samaritan inexplicably showing up and freeing him. He beat his hands uselessly on the arms of his captor, so thick and tightly wound with muscles they resembled steel cables more than flesh. His captor clicked something, words that he might have understood were he not blinded by the terror of his oncoming demise.

The deep, rumbling clicks came louder, stronger, against the backdrop of Tim’s distress. The siren’s claws were so close to his belly, Just the slightest flex of muscle and he’d be gutted like the fish he was.

Despite his struggling, the predator was unharmed, unmoved in either body and heart. A soft growl rumbled in the water, followed by a piercing call as sharp as a knife. The commanding sound penetrating deep into Tim’s mind, reaching into parts of his subconscious never touched by outside influences before. At the same time, two fingers pinched harshly at a spot on his neck.

Like a doll, Tim’s muscles turned to jelly. His body went limp. All he could do was nudge his head, and move his eyes.

His heart trembled like the irregular beat of a routing army. His breaths were shallow. His muscles refused to obey his commands to fight, run, grovel, anything. Any moment now he would feel those razor sharp teeth sink into his back, tearing his scales off like an orange peel and squeezing him like one.

With no option but to await his fate, Tim squeezed his eyes shut, and hoped it would be quick.

The hum of ocean’s currents roared death in his ear fins. Tears streamed down his eyes. The grip around his waist softened.

Without giving him time to process, the adult siren pulled Tim to his huge chest, enclosing him with the crook of his arm with a gentleness that Tim could almost call tender. A hand came to his head, and Tim could only stare with fear. However, that hand, capable of unmaking his body in one fell swoop, gently stroked his head, scratching softly behind his ears. From the deepest recesses of the siren’s body, a rumbling purr began, its rhythm as soothing as it was alien. The vibrations filled Tim’s body, echoing between his scales and pulling him into a state akin to sleep.

“Guppy…” the siren growled. Tim flinched, or he would were it not for the paralysis still locking his body down. Despite the anger in the adult siren’s voice, Tim got the feeling it was not directed at him, but someone else.

The siren continued to speak, their chirps and clicks undecipherable to Tim’s ears, but something deep inside his mind gave him impressions of their meanings, of words older than language. Guppy, safe, come to pod

Tim had little time to process these instinctual meanings before the adult siren rocketed off. Utilising his powerful muscles, the adult siren cut through the water like a torpedo, leaving Tim’s eyes dizzy from trying to follow the scenery rushing past them. His ear fins caught the rushing waves for a brief second before the sheer force folded them flat against his scales. His ear fins roared at the sound, liking sticking your head out of a car moving at 60 miles an hour. It was exhilarating. It was terrifying.

The entire time, the adult siren said nothing. Tim gulped. He startled at that motion. A slight twitch of his arm fins revealed his range of motion had returned. He doubted he could escape the siren’s grasp, outswim his powerful tail or survive incurring his wrath.

And, for some unknowable reason, part of Tim didn’t want to. It sounded ridiculous, but part of him felt a deep sense of security trapped within the arms of a cannibalistic predator.

Maybe that was part of the siren’s manipulation. Maybe he spared Tim because he wanted to drag him back to his lair, where all the siren’s spices and cookery were. After all, the siren knew human culture and clothing enough to blend in, and he learned on a science YouTube video how cooking and seasoning food made it that much more nutritious and safe. The siren was probably used to having nice, cooked food instead of raw food that was still alive and screaming.

Oh, that meant soon Tim wouldn’t be alive. Oh no.

The fear that had been forcibly soothed now rose again. Tim squirmed like a helpless worm, scratching against the siren’s tough hide. His tailfin slapped against their abdomen. It was useless. Tim chittered pathetically as the siren’s other hand came round his neck. One pinch later, and that was it. Tim gave out a pathetic whine as his muscles died, and his body went limp again.

His captor continued swimming, occasionally chirring or clicking. Soon, Tim could spot the Gotham skyline through the rippling surface. He chirped at the adult siren questioningly, and gets got rumbling croon back. Home.

Tim remained silent with apprehension as the siren swerved downward, into a deep trench near the shores of Gotham. He hadn’t realised he’d swum so far. The adult siren trills a low note, though not aimed at Tim. Suddenly the siren swam into the side of the cliff and entered a cave system, gaining speed as they swam through the straight path through the rock. The water smelled cleaner, more artificial.

At last, they emerged in an opening in a bright space. A powerful smell was in the water, something Tim had come to recognise as the scent of more sirens. As if one wasn’t bad enough. The cave they were in was more akin to a pool than a natural flooded opening. There was a raised platform at the surface of the water, with black and yellow safety markings along the edge. Above the water, Tim could make out artificial shapes, of what he didn’t know. And was the glowing light coming from a computer monitor?

The adult siren swam forward into an offshoot of the pool, an area like a kiddy pool with a much shallower depth. If Tim lay on his belly, then his back would barely be underwater, and his dorsal fin would certainly be poking out. With his arms wrapped around Tim’s torso, the siren brought him over and deposited him in the kiddy pool. It wasn’t uncomfortable, wide enough for him to stretch. He looked to the siren questioningly, but earned a strict trill, Stay, back.

Tim heard footsteps.

“My word,” came a familiar British voice. “What has he done this time?”

Alfred Pennyworth gasped. Tim could remember his voice as clear as day! He was Mr Wayne’s butler, and would often sneak him snacks during galas. Alfred was one of the only people who bothered to talk to him about anything other than how cute he was, and he was funny too, with how he snarked at the partygoers during those galas.

Tim couldn’t fathom the faintest clue why he would be here.

Alfred came rushing forward, kneeling at the edge of the shallow pool. “Oh my God.” His grey eyes, which always held within them the epitome of decorum and stoic duty now wobbled with grief hidden behind a life time of service, revealed to the world for a scarce moment before strength returned to them. “Timothy, is that you?”

Somebody noticed him. Somebody noticed him. Tim felt like he was going to cry. Yes, Tim clicked. Yes! He nodded so much that if he nodded harder he’d loosen a neck bone.

“My boy. I am so glad to see you. Are you injured?” Tim shook his head. “Are you hungry?”

His tummy growled. Tim didn’t know how long it had been since he’d eaten, and with his sprint through the oceans and his still-aching tail, his stomach was just about ready to consume itself with hunger.

“I’ll fix you something immediately. We’ll need blankets for you, too. Heaven knows you must be freezing.”

Alfred was right. The ocean’s icy grip had sunk into his bones, a cold that the warmth of the cave had yet to relieve him of. The butler reached into his pocket and produced an old Nokia phone, one of those bricks that was nearly invincible. “Jason, we have a code beta-blue. I will need your assistance. Bring towels and a blanket,” Alfred spoke into the form. He did not wait for a response before hanging up. “I shall be back shortly. Here, take this pager, Timothy. If you ever need anything, for any reason, please press this button to call me.”

Before Tim could object and beg Alfred to stay, the butler was gone.

Jason was here too? Where was he? Was he truly not going to be eaten? Tim turned around, but the siren who had brought him here was gone, with only his powerful scent lingering in the water.

As Alfred had promised, he didn’t take long. The butler returned with a blanket bundled up in one arm and a plate of food in the other. Tim crooned sadly. It would’ve been nice to see Jason again after so long. Alfred kneeled to the floor and placed the plate of food on the ground, along with a glass of cold milk. Immediately, the smell of meat loaf filled Tim’s nostrils. It had been so long since he had cooked meat. The traffickers only ever fed him gross, long-dead fish. Alfred even gave him a fork and knife to eat it with! And the blanket, draped over his body, folding his fins back, was divine.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions, Timothy, and they will be answered.”

“Yes, they will be.”

Tim stiffened. He sank his body low to the ground, submerging the lower half of his head below ground.

It was Matches Malone’s voice, and the same smell of the siren that disguised themself as a human. But the face was different. The face was Bruce Wayne’s, appearing at the corner of the room through a doorway.

Alfred stood up, marching up to Mr Wayne’s face with a thunderous expression. If one of Tim’s parents’ servants did anything like that they’d be fired and then his parents would’ve made a million more threats after the fact. He watched with awe as Alfred formed a clear barrier between him and Mr Wayne, whose hair was wet and clothes rumpled and moist, like they’d just been pulled on after being the first items he saw after showering.

After pulling himself out of the water and turning back into a human.

Mr Wayne was a siren.

Mr Wayne was at the auction.

Was Mr Wayne a cannibal?

“Master Wayne, how very lovely of you to show your face,” Alfred said, sarcasm dripping from his lips like wax. They were far away, but Tim’s ear fins were able to pick up the sound with crystal clarity.

Instead of reacting to the very blatant challenge to his authority with anger, Mr Wayne looked sheepish. Did the transformation mess up Tim’s eyes?

“Look, Alfred, I can explain.”

“Explain your terrorizing of this poor, innocent child? He looks like he’s run, cycled and swum a triathlon, without legs. What happened down there?”

Mr Wayne bit his lip, and actually looked sorry. “I… I think my fathering instincts were acting up.”

Tim couldn’t see Alfred’s expression, but his posture practically radiated ‘unimpressed’.

“Go upstairs. You are terrifying the poor guppy. I will take it from here.”

“But Alfred–”

“Up bup bup bup. No arguments. Away with you. You have much paperwork to attend to, and I do not want you tracking the odour of Gotham’s waters upstairs.”

At Alfred’s firm instructions, Mr Wayne’s shoulders slumped. “

Tim was pretty sure butlers were his favourite people now, or maybe that was just Alfred. The older man turned back and returned to the shallow pool. “I am terribly sorry for Master Bruce’s actions. I’m sure you must have been very scared.”

Tim chirped, his ear fins drooping with sadness.

Alfred’s face turned downcast. “Right, I forgot. Take this.”

He produced a small necklace with a little jewel. Didn’t Jason wear this same necklace too? It was never visible under his fancy suit, but whenever Jason took him out back and he was able to loosen the suit, Tim was able to see the necklace tucked underneath his shirt, and it was the exact same as what was being offered to him now.

Hesitantly, Tim reached his hand out and took the jewelry.

“What does this do–”

He stopped himself. That was his voice. Overlaying chirps, squeaks and trills that had replaced it since he was sold away was a perfect impression of how he used to sound. It was his real voice.

“H-how?”

“It is a vocal aide meant to help young sirens fit in by letting them speak human words before their voiceboxes are naturally able to make the sounds. I’m sure you have many questions.”

“I-is the siren, is Mr Bruce going to eat me?” he whispered meekly. He had other questions, like how long Mr Bruce was a siren, if Jason and Dick were sirens too (even though that didn’t make any sense. They were adopted.) and if Alfred was a siren, but that one question reigned above all others.

Alfred blinked with surprise. “Excuse me? Whoever gave you that such impression?”

“M-my parents said sirens ate small sirens, b-because kids are harder to take care of.”

Alfred’s face darkened. “Well, I assure you your parents are much more ignorant on sirens than they let on. Master Bruce may be dimwitted at times, and he is certainly gruff and brooding, but he is no child eater. Every action he took tonight was to save you.”

Tim’s hands ghosted along his sides, to where Mr Bruce’s claws had grasped him with that vice grip. Alfred stiffened.

“I see. I shall have a word with Master Bruce about his conduct. I am sorry for his feral behaviour. I will make sure it does not happen again.”

Alfred’s voice was earnest, and promised punishment. “H-how did Mr Wayne know I was there? H-how did Batman know?”

The butler’s eyes shifted, he took a long pause before his answer. “Hearing that you had disappeared was a great shock to us. Master Bruce had suspected foul play, and so launched an investigation into your whereabouts. We did not believe your parents’ assertion that you had been sent to boarding school for a second. And… unfortunately, we were right. Master Bruce entered the auction under the disguise of Matches Malone to infiltrate it, so that Batman and his team could break into the premises and rescue everyone. You, however, had been taken first, so Master Bruce pursued you directly.”

Mr Wayne would not be infiltrating an auction for Batman if he didn’t work with Batman, Tim realised. But why would Mr Wayne care? And was he really not going to eat Tim? The Mr Wayne he knew was silly, and funny, and nice. Why was Mr Wayne so… mean as a siren? Was it a Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde situation? Actually, no, he remembered watching a YouTube video about how Mr Hyde wasn’t a different person, it was just a disguise Dr Jekyll used to act like a jerk and not be punished for it.

Wait, was it a Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde situation then? That Mr Wayne was always a super jerk, but he only let himself be a jerk as a siren cause nobody would make the connection, and if that were the case-

“Timothy, your fins are on the verge of splashing your meatloaf.”

“O-oh…” Tim muttered. “I’m sorry.”

“Do not be. I know this is a lot to take in. Know that you are safe now, and the people who did this to you will never be able to hurt anyone again. Now, eat up. I will prepare accommodation for you. Please page me if you need anything.”

Tim was left alone with his thoughts and the warmth of his dinner. The first bite that hit his mouth lit up his eyes, and he hungrily dove into the meal. He was finally free, and he wasn’t even going to be eaten by anybody.

But that left what was going to happen to him. He couldn’t very well rejoin society looking like this, could he?

A distant splash interrupted the start of his catastrophising. Tim slid and turned around on his belly, eyes flicking between the corners of the pool in an attempt to locate the source of the noise. The water remained still. It was impossible for the splash to have occurred in this room. Then where…

Click, click, squeak. “Timmyyyy!!!”

Tim’s ear fins flared up. Suddenly, a bright red face popped out of the water. The red colour wasn’t from blushing, but from the scales on the other boy’s skin, reflecting the artificial lighting of the cave and shining like new. None of them were as bright as the beaming smile he wore, flashing his sharp teeth.

“Holy shit. Timmy it’s really you!”

Tim recognised that voice. He blinked, trying to rearrange the scales on the face before him, to see the skin underneath. “Jay?” he whispered, almost afraid to speak.

Jason beamed. The older boy rushed forward, entangling Tim in a big hug. Tim squeaked at the sudden, but not unwelcome contact.

“Y-you’re a siren too? T-they got you too?” Tim’s voice was hollow with fresh grief.

Jason chirped. “What? No! I’ve always been like this! You just didn’t know cause you always see me with legs. Bruce wouldn’t let me tell you about it cause secrets or whatever but now that doesn’t matter! But now you’re here, I can show you my underwater room too! Bruce made one for me and Dickie, and you’re gonna get one too!”

Tim’s head swirled from the sheer energy in Jason’s voice, leaving him grasping for a thread in the conversation to follow. “Has Bruce tried to eat you?”

“Not since that time he almost bit my arm off when I was 10,” Jason admitted nonchalantly.

Tim gasped with horror, only for Jason to double over, clutching his stomach and fins flapping as he laughed.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. The only thing of mine Bruce has eaten is my bubbles from me racing him. He’s just stupid, that’s all. You don’t need to be afraid of him. Anyway, let’s go before Alfred shows up again. I’m technically not allowed to be down here.”

“W-why not?” Tim asked. He didn’t pull away when Jason took his hands, slowly swimming backwards and taking him into the deeper water.

“Well something about you not being overwhelmed and you recovering, yadda yadda yadda, but frankly speaking if I were in your position I’d kill for a friendly face that wasn’t like 800 years old.” Jason’s head turned to the ceiling and he hollered “sorry Alfred!”

Tim followed his gaze upward.

“Don’t worry about that. He won’t hear. Come on! I’ll show you my room!”

Jason’s fins flexed as he undulated his tail, warming up. Tim sputtered. “W-wait. M-my tail’s sore.”

“Oh, that’s no biggie!” Before Tim could question him, Jason twisted his body and did a loop-de-loop as tight as the length of his torso, launching up from below Tim and stopping right in front of him. Jason swam with such fluidity it was like he merged with the water rather than swimming through it. “Grab on!”

Tim obliged, minding Jason’s dorsal fin as he locked his hands around his neck. The older boy trilled a question of readiness, and Tim nodded in the crook of Jason’s shoulder. With the signal given, Jason rocketed through the water, entering a tunnel in the side of the pool. After navigating a series of winding paths in the tunnel system, they came to an opening glowing with warm yellow light.

The room before him was nothing like he’d ever seen. It was carved from rock as evidenced by the smooth curve of the walls, decorated by bookshelves and posters like any normal 13-year-old’s bedroom, minus the fact that it was all underwater. Jason swam down to the bed, encased in a humongous clam and landed on the spongey surface. The teenager tapped on Tim’s shoulder, signalling him to let go.

“What do you think?” Jason asked, clearly proud of his space.

“It’s pretty…” Tim muttered. “Is this your real bedroom?”

He’d been to Jason’s bedroom on land before, and it shared much of the same features, but this one was clearly more lived in, what with the organised chaos of toys and what appeared to be exercise equipment in the corners of the room. Jason shrugged. “The one upstairs is my real bedroom too. I just like to stretch my fins here. Being a human all day sucks.”

Tim wilted.  He’d like to be human again.

Jason glanced at him and instantly his fins stood up, on edge. “Oh shit. Sorry Timmy, I forgot,”

“No,” Tim interrupted. Already he was starting to curl in on himself. “It’s ok…”

The grim reminder of his limited future stuck with him, and Tim sank into his own body, hiding his face behind his tailfin as he became a little donut of sadness.

He felt something poking his tailfin. Poke. Poke. Poke.

Jason’s fingers gently pressed on the top side of his tail fin and pushed it down, revealing his face to Tim. “Hey, it’s gonna be alright. I mean, if I can have legs, why can’t you?”

Tim startled. It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“I-is it expensive?” Tim asked timidly.

Jason tilted his head, blinking rapidly. “What? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well,” Tim fiddled with the tips of his arm fins. “Mr Wayne’s already done a lot for me, and I’m guessing the reason why you and Mr Wayne can do it is because of some kind of surgery and those are expensive and I don’t wanna be any more of a burden.”

He blushed, and smushed his face against into the sponge bed. He held his chest tightly in wait.

“Dude, what?” Jason said. “You’re not a burden! Just cause your dumb parents don’t appreciate you doesn’t mean we won’t! You’re like, the only fun thing at galas. All the other kids my age are assholes, but you? You’re fun! You’re cool! Bruce loves you!”

Tim continued to smush himself, unsure if what he was hearing was real. However, his self-pitying found a mighty opponent as a heat came over his back. Suddenly, he gasped as Jason’s weight suddenly came down on his body and bore into him, sending Tim wheezing for water.

Jason ran hot.

“And besides! Even if it cost a million bucks to let you walk on land again – which it totally doesn’t – Bruce would pay ten times that much for you!”

“J-jason…” Tim gasped. “I can’t b-breathe!”

“Nonsense. You will receive my love whether you like it or not!”

“Jasooonnnn…” Tim whined pathetically, keening with desperation.

“What? Come on, Dick does this to me all the time, and he weighs like 200 pounds.”

However Jason managed to avoid looking like a pancake, Tim wanted the secret and he wanted it now, before he died of hugs.

“I’m dyiiinnnggg…” Tim moaned. “Somebody help!”

“Nuh uh, and guess what! You’re gonna be stuck with me, cause I bet you Bruce is already putting the adoption papers together.”

Tim’s fins turned stiff as he froze. Jason rolled off of him and lay side to side with him. Purring gently. “Mr Bruce wants to adopt me?”

Jason shrugged. “Well, he probably isn’t gonna do it right now, since you’ve just got here and this place is a lot, but he’s definitely thinking about it. I mean, apparently he went full growling papa mode out there because he was so worried about you.”

“A-and he doesn’t think I’m annoying or a b-burden?”

Jason squinted at him. “I can squish you again. I can totally do it.”

Tim frantically shook his head. “No, I’m fine, thank you.”

“Good.”

Tim chirped shyly. “D-do you really mean it?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re practically already family, aren’t you?”

Jason rolled on his back, waving his tail in the water, leaving Tim to think, and process. The events of the day were just starting to feel real, as real as Jason’s scent plastered over everything in his bedroom, as real as the food Alfred got him, as real as Jason’s touch and voice.

Tomorrow, he wouldn’t have to wake up being leered at by evil men, or put on display for evil people to bet on like property. That part felt less real, felt less tangible.

Jason was hovering over him again. “Timmy?”

There was a pearl on the bed, leaning on his cheeks. He’d been crying. “Yeah, I feel ok now.”

A crackle sent their ear fins standing up. Jason turned pale, an achievement given the red scales on his face. “Oh, that’s probably Alfred,” he said, grimacing. The older boy tapped on an intercom unit placed along the wall beside his bed.

“Jason, I see you have spirited Timothy away despite my strict instructions that he be given a thorough physical examination first. If it should turn out that you have injured Timothy in your rough housing, I will have your scales. Am I understood?”

Alfred hung up.

The boys exchanged a look. “Welp.” Jason bemoaned, hanging his head low. “I was gonna talk about how we’re gonna do all sorts of cool brother things, but it looks like Alfred’s gonna turn me into a handbag first. Sorry Tim. You can have my book collection when I die. Hell knows Dick can’t be trusted with that shit.”

Tim giggled. Maybe things were going to turn out ok for him after all.