( honey's sweeter ) our anchors
Title: our anchors
Fandom: Uncharted & DCU
Universe: Honey's Sweeter
Relationships: Tim Drake & Tori Drake, Russell Drake & Tori Drake, Russell Drake & Tori Drake & Tim Drake, mentioned Nathan Drake/Elena Fisher, mentioned Russell Drake/Nasreen Asselah
Summary: Amidst the chaos of Tim inheriting a multinational corporation, Tori reflects on her family, and how she wouldn't trade any of them for the world.
Notes: One part of a birthday present for![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
camalyng, this fic was based off this tumblr image. DCU Tim may have inherited Wayne Tech, but Honey's Tim has sensible parents and would've veto'ed this in a heartbeat. Exploring that change was the impetus in such a fic - and namely, how it affected Tim's siblings more than Tim himself.
In hindsight, those ellipses should have been the first sign of impeding trouble.
Tori was used to dozens of unread messages in the family group chat, but 65 unread notifications were unusual, even for her. Add that to a lengthy, too-verbose discussion about Mr. Wayne's will and Tim inheriting something, and the whole world was boiling over.
A few nights ago, Tim had collapsed at her doorstep, his entire body in shambles. Crooked domino mask hanging off his right cheek, unkempt hair, scrapes and cuts on his arms, and an expression that wouldn't leave the edges of her memory. He hadn't said a single word. He tripped on empty air at the sight of her, and he stretched his arms wide for the tightest hug of his life.
Tori couldn't dispel the moment with a terrible joke or some banter. She couldn't even shrug him off. He had refused to let go of her the entire night, his nails and fingertips digging into her skin as if she too would disappear.
Mom's texts were the only reason he had hastily retreated back to Atlanta on the next flight.
To the world at large, Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire extraordinaire, had enrolled in rehab for alcoholism. To Tim, to Tori, to those who knew better, Bruce Wayne had passed away. Tim had explained it once: superheroes and their ilk never remained dead for long. Rather than declaring a cause of death and creating a sea of paperwork, they kept the truth under lock-and-key.
If Bruce was still dead a year later, then the world would get to know. If, Tim had kept insisting, because his mentor was somewhere in the great, wide, vast multiverse – and Tim was going to be the one to bring him home.
None of their family chats indicated such determination. Then again, if Mom knew of Timmy's plans, Mom would have veto'ed them with the fury of a thousand suns. That same wrath in her texts, born of her anxious fretting, was loud and clear.
Problem was, Timmy could have inherited just about anything after Mr. Wayne's death, and he still would have merited this overreaction. Terrible, color-clashing Batsuits; the actual Wayne Manor; a couple of sports cars; or maybe one of the dozens of safe houses littered across America.
As much as she would love to make this family conversation her problem, her work was calling her name. So she set her phone aside and stared out at the endless sea ahead of her. Los Angeles - and her job reclaiming Greek heritage - was a higher priority.
She could deal with the incoming family implosion later. Much, much later.
Upon finishing work and dragging her sorry, sore butt and sprained wrist back into the bar, Tori's head was throbbing. The news had focused on one person and one person alone: Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire and CEO of WayneTech.
Bruce Wayne has stepped down from WayneTech while he takes care of personal matters, said all the reporters. The Wayne family has asked for privacy in this tumultuous time as new leadership is set to take the stage and alter the course...
Timmy would've had a funny quip or two about such a turn of events. He also would've explained the shadow-y politics ad nauseam, until even Russ was sick of the hierarchy and the sleight of hand behind the green curtain.
("Just get to the point," Russ would insist, with all the patience drained from him. "We get it. Bruce trusts you with everything.")
Against her better judgment, Tori fiddled with her phone and saw the first unread message from her baby brother:
Her brother was– her brother effectively owned a good chunk of Gotham now.
Tori's stomach churned and twisted into knots as she scrolled back up and skimmed new, incoming messages: Mom's anger, Dad's attempts at levity, and even Russ's studious responsibility. Tim didn't want this. No kid wanted this kind of responsibility on their shoulders.
Her baby brother was paranoid and well-aware of the cloaks and daggers present in Gotham. He was also well acquainted with its numbers, thanks to Uncle Tom. He was... he was also way in over his head. He had zero experience with managing a household budget, let alone something worth half of Gotham's GDP. Tori should have expressed those worries and fears to him. Instead, all she could text back was:
wait, really?
does this mean i get your room now? ;)
A dozen weary-faced emojis was her only reply.
"Catching up on some light reading?" A familiar voice called from behind, tickling her ear.
Tori flinched. She didn't have to turn around to know just who had come, let alone why they would've have taken their brand-new Honda Accord into the darkest part of town and sauntered into this dingy, poorly-lit bar to find her.
"A little heavier than I'd like," she had to admit, twirling her chair to face him. "It's okay, Russ. You can go home."
"You weren't answering any of our texts, so humor me," her brother said, resting his elbows on the table as he flagged down the bartender. "First round's on me."
A couple of years ago, Russell had accepted a position as a firm architect in Los Angeles. His career was just beginning, and he needed the experience wherever he could get it. Plus, as he had told Mom and Dad, Peyton and Maxine had called LA home for several years. He wouldn't be alone here– and sure enough, he had found his soulmate and life partner Nasreen here. They had married, and now they were expecting a first child in a few months.
Tori had just hoped, against all odds, that Russ wouldn't have checked her phone GPS. That for once in his life, Russ would eschew responsibility and chuck her into a "for later" kind of bin. Russ had a new wife and a new family to support. Russ could have walked away from all of this (from her) and the world would have understood.
Instead, the endless sunshine was standing here, in a freshly-pressed suit (the suit she had tailored for him, for his first Real Job Interview), laughing at some dumb joke the bartender had made. He was sipping a cappuccino and loosening the tie around his neck, and he was acting like he belonged here. Like he had somehow become a full-fledged treasure hunter when none of them were looking.
Part of her had expected Red Robin or Blackbird to skulk out of the shadows, but after such a brusque text - her little brother would be lucky to see the sun. Russ probably knew this. Russ probably knew everything, and he was probably going to lay down the law. He would drag her bruised, sore butt back to Atlanta and give Mom and Dad yet another thunderclap migraine.
"So," Tori began, exhaling and bracing herself for the worst.
"So you forgot to tell me you were in town," Russ finished, taking another sip of his drink. "I can't believe I had to find out through 'Find My Friends' again."
"Because that worked out so great for Timmy the first time," Tori couldn't help quipping as her non-injured hand wrapped around her drink.
Russ narrowed his eyes at her. "Because you were 'involved' with his job, V. If it weren't for his quick thinking, you might have compromised his mission."
"Is that what he told you?"
A girl sleeps with a criminal once, and she gets the stink-eye from Blackbird and Mr. Sunshine. Tori couldn't fight the smirk on her face, even as she peers back up at her brother.
"No. He said you were busy, but it doesn't take a genius to know what kind of busy he meant." Russell sighed, with sudden exhaustion wearing down his shoulders. "I should've been more blunt, but I'm..."
"Trying to be more PG, I get it."
The glare he gave her was almost worth such a statement. Almost, because Tori could even feel her own cheeks burning a bright red.
After a few seconds of silence, Russell leaned forward, twirling his finger along the edge of his cup's saucer.
"He's too young to take over something that big," he murmured. "He's seventeen. When I was seventeen, I was playing varsity soccer. I was thinking about college, drawing for AP Art, building up my portfolio, dreaming of... of being allowed to enjoy high school. I don't know. Maybe it's foolish of me to think Timmy doesn't want that for himself–"
"It's incredibly foolish, but I can't talk." Tori set down her drink and turned her body to fully face Russell. "I mean, I ran off before my senior year. I knew what I wanted, and high school wasn't it. My GED was like, an afterthought."
"Yeah, because Aunt Chloe forced your hand and made it her life mission–" Russell blinked, staring down at her sprained wrist. "The hell, Victoria?!"
As he called the bartender for a pack of ice wrapped in a towel, and also probably an ambulance for good measure because her older brother was nothing if not a buzzkill, Tori slammed down the rest of her cappuccino. If she was going to see the doctor, she might as well go fully caffeinated.
She might as well– she might as well have Russell place the wrapped ice over her wrist and have him inspect the arm for any other cuts, scrapes, or bruises. Her brother brushed his fingertips against her skin and asked her about tender spots. He even tugged off his tie and wrapped it around her wrist, in an imitation of a compression bandage.
Tori could only blink back surprise at her Boy Scout of a brother– "You're not taking me to urgent care?"
"You wouldn't go." Russ's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Nasreen gets off in an hour, anyway, and she's the best doctor we know."
"Oh."
The wind sucked out of her sails, Tori could only bow her head in thanks and deference.
He could have pulled her out of the bar. He absolutely would've been right to drag her sorry ass out of the comfort and into the hospital, and he would have been lauded by everyone they knew. Frankly, he probably would take her to the doctor tomorrow.
"Anyway." Russ sighed, his gaze never quite leaving her injured wrist, "You're both determined to give me an early heart attack, aren't you?"
"We also chose these things," Tori refuted. "I wanted my job, and to chase the world in the process. I wanted to see more than what Mom and Dad would've given us. I can't say I know what Timmy wants, but - some day, he would've taken over Bruce's company anyway. This whole thing's just... accelerating it."
Russell gave Tori a blank, almost incredulous stare. "So you're saying you want a high school senior in charge of a mulitnational corporation? One of the biggest employers in Gotham? A Fortune 500? Our Timmy?"
For the sake of arguing, Tori pointed out, "He'll have Lucius, won't he? Plus the other kids?"
"Let me rephrase this," Russell sighed, pinching his temple. "Timmy will be Lucius's boss. He will be everyone's boss before he even gets his diploma."
All color left Tori's face as the weight of Russell's words finally hit her– "Shit."
"Yeah." Russell's shoulders sagged as he hunched forward with defeat. "The world's gone to shit."
Tori didn't argue as Russell paid for their drinks, or as he ushered her into his car and they drove down to his new condo in the suburbs. She didn't even argue as he filled their silence with the radio and its dulcet tones of smooth jazz. Considering her wrist, and Tim's newfound inheritance, she couldn't say she had the right.
Her job had been a rousing success. Her body was a different story (and she was only lucky her wrist was the more obvious injury of the night). Tim's job, and the silent, permanent scrapes and scars scattered across his body, were going to be the talk of the nation when he accepted the position. They could only hide so much before the truth revealed itself before everyone.
Bruce Wayne wasn't in rehab for his non-existent drinking problem; Tori wasn't the perfect treasure hunter; and Tim wasn't in any shape to manage or run Wayne Tech. Russell may not even be perfect, but honestly, that was unfathomable. Russell would always be perfect.
Everyone else was struggling and hobbling along on empty fumes, and here he was, driving the safest car in America with a full tank of gas. He made that kind of excellent effortless - as if he rose to the top by breathing alone.
"–you're right," Tori finally admitted, during a lull in the music.
Russell glanced at her through the rearview mirror. "What do you mean?"
"Timmy. You're right about him being a kid. He should get to finish high school, if that's what he wants to do. I–I was being an ass. I was arguing that he may not want that for himself, but he's more of a nerd than you are."
Russell actually laughed at that, the freaking nerd and Boy Scout. "He's cautious. Totally different things."
"You think Mom'll be able to get the board off his back?"
"I know she will," Russell said, flashing her that blinding smile of his. God, he was brighter than the sun shining through his windows. "If she could leverage her Survivor win into fame, she can do anything. She's not Elena-fucking-Fisher for nothing."
Tori laughed, despite it all, despite the numb throbbing that reverberated through her body– "Russell Yunus Drake! Language!"
"So I'm not allowed to curse now?"
"It's weird! It's like watching the sun burn someone - valid, but it totally goes against the circle of life."
Russell shot Tori a very strange, almost bemused look, but he couldn't help joining in the laughter. Their overall family may be imploding back in Atlanta. Their lives may be weird (and full of injury and grievances).
For just one short moment, though, she could pretend that she was a kid, and Russ was there, patching her up as if nothing had ever happened. It was the natural order of things: Tori patches Timmy up, Russell patches Tori up, and she supposed, Mom and Dad patched Russ up. As if Russ ever needed patching up to begin with.
Her older brother swallowed, with a slightly uneasy look in his eyes despite his smile. "Well, the sun will curse all he wants, the universe be damned."
Tori leaned back in her seat, peering up at the setting sun and at the corner that foretold Russell's house– "Damn straight he can. He can do anything."
"Not everything," he murmured, his smile growing genuine, if almost wistful. "That's where you come in."
Tori pretended to ignore that as she peered out the window. Her, do something Russell couldn't? He must've been dreaming again, or the family structure had actually imploded upon itself with Timmy's new job dilemma...
"I'm serious, V. If the world were left up to me, it would be safe, comfortable, maybe a little boring. But you and Tim - you go out there and take risks. You do what your hearts desire, and I don't know. I kind of worry I missed out on something."
"What?" Tori was gawking at him, despite the pain, despite the sun shining, despite the music. "You're kidding, right? You're the Russell Drake. You can do anything you want. You didn't miss out on a single thing."
"I could tell you otherwise," he said, his shoulders slumping as he turned the corner. "My baby brother inherits a multi-million company before he finishes high school, you're off returning museum artifacts to their rightful owners, and I'm... designing buildings for the government? Random celebrities? How is that even on the same scale?"
Tori paused, crossing one leg up under her as she cradled her injured arm.
Any other time, she supposed she wouldn't have understood or entertained such a notion. Russell had shouldered the world as if he had owned it from day one – and he, of all people, understood the privilege he had wielded as he dove into every challenge head-first. Yet, she hadn't stopped once to think about how ordinary and safe might look next to extraordinary and danger.
"It's not," she had to admit, holding up a couple of fingers, "But! We weren't on the same scales to begin with. Timmy and I can afford to fling our lives away because we know you'll be there when we get home. You're - like the hearth. The reason we know we're going to be okay in the end."
A slow, almost unreadable expression crossed his face, "Like Hestia?"
"Ew, no. Better than Hestia." Tori wrinkled her nose. "You're the anchor that holds us together. The reason we do what we do, you know? Though hell if I have to admit that to you all over again."
"So I'm the reason you treasure hunt?"
"You're the reason I went into reparations," Tori corrected, with a soft, almost fond smile. "I could've been like Mom and Dad, but it feels more right to do that kind of work. To restore what should rightfully belong to someone else and right the wrongs of history."
Russ blinked back the beginnings of tears, and her sappy, perfect, sunshine brother's voice almost cracked as he said, "Oh."
"God, Russ," Tori exaggerated a loud groan, dragging down her non-injured hand down her face, "You are such a sap!"
Russell was laughing again, like he was sharing some private joke between him and the whispering of trumpets and saxophones in the background, "I know. Trust me, I know."
Nasreen, as promised, arrived home within the hour to inspect Tori's wrist. Her beloved sister-in-law changed out of her scrubs and into home clothes (per hospital regulations) and immediately set to work.
Tori followed Nasreen's every instruction to the letter: keep the wrist elevated above the heart, telling her where any touch hurt, and more pressingly, telling her doctor in-law how the injury occurred.
"–during a chase?" Nasreen had to fight back a laugh, biting on her lip. "Just what kind of work do you do?"
Tori batted her eyelashes, in a strong attempt at innocence. "Museum reparations. Cultural heritage, negotiations, that kind of thing. You know how greedy Americans are."
Nasreen's laugh was genuine, even as she shook her head at Tori. "How did I marry into this family?"
"Because you love us?"
A soft, fond look crossed Nasreen's face as Russell walked in. "That I do."
Russell shot them both the same fond expression, even as he shook his head at both of them. Pulling out his phone and hitting the speaker button, he started up a conference call with the rest of the family.
Ideally, Tori's check up would have ended by then, but she had done worse on family phone calls. A doctor home visit would be the least of their concerns.
"–Tori's home with me," Russell was telling Mom, Dad, and Timmy. "She's fine."
Nasreen and Tori blinked up at Russell, but he only placed two fingers to his lips.
"He really loves you too," murmured Nasreen as she too inspected Tori's wrist for tender spots. "He should've sent you to urgent care, which is exactly what I'm going to do first thing tomorrow, but..."
"He knew I didn't want to go. I would've just made it worse on all of you." Tori flinched, sucking in a breath to hide her pain.
"Oh, good," Mom's relieved voice came through the phone, loud and clear. "Work went okay?"
"Very okay," Tori called, sitting up straighter to help Nasreen. "In fact, it did so well that I'll be off for a while."
On account of wrist injury and not, say, a beautiful paycheck, but Mom and Dad didn't need to know that just yet. Russell's frown said more than enough, and well - her health insurance claims would too, once they actually got her to urgent care.
"In fact, she's already agreed to stay back in LA a little longer and help me and Nasreen during her last trimester," Russell added, with a slow, devious smile.
Tori would have argued that insinuation then and there, but she could only blink back awe and genuine pride.
"She did?" Dad drew in a surprised, if relieved, laugh. "Thanks, Tori. You know your Mom and I would've been there if we could."
"Yes, thank you. That's awfully considerate of you," Mom added, with a hint of suspicion in her own voice.
Tori puffed up, "I can be nice sometimes, you know! Work's booming, but what's that old saying? Family is forever?"
When they weren't volunteering their injured, defenseless little sisters into housework and at least a few months of domestic torture, at the very least. Tori hadn't thought Russell remotely capable of such sabotage. Then again, Russ was a Drake. That kind of scheming ran through their blood.
"Well, speaking of family... I'm not taking the job," Tim added, almost as an afterthought.
Russell seized the phone, "You're not?? Really?"
"Lucius agreed with us," Mom said, relief evident in her voice, even all the way from here in LA. "He's in no shape to lead WayneTech. Maybe once he gets an MBA, but definitely not right now."
"Plus, I wanna finish my senior year. Go to prom. Do all of that stuff without worrying about people's stocks and shareholders and a bunch of other stuff I'm forgetting?"
"Awww, but you would've been good at it," Tori couldn't help joking, even as relief and gratitude colored her own voice. "Think about it: CEO Timmy. Has a nice ring to it."
Tim's sigh could have woken the neighbors, "You just wanted my room. Which, by the way, you can't have because you're not even here half the time."
"Well, she's helping me for a while. That oughta earn her some brownie points," Russell pointed out with a laugh. "She could swoop in and come snag it when she gets home..."
Tori settled for narrowing her eyes and glaring at him as Mom might have. She even tried to raise her chin in defiance at his sudden scheming, but Nasreen pinched a nerve a little too tight, and the pain throbbed in her head.
Russell paused upon seeing her face– "Or, you know, you could take one for the team. Give her that room as a birthday present."
"Never," Tim crowed, like the actual bird-themed superhero he was.
"That's not very heroic of you," Dad had to point out, with his loud, booming voice. "Didn't someone say sharing is caring?"
"Again," Tim only paused for dramatic emphasis, "Never. She'll have to fight me for it."
Tori couldn't help teasing, "Then bring it on, nerd. Come and brawl me in LA, if you've got the feathers for it."
"Muscles," Tim was groaning. "You mean muscles."
"You're a birdbrain! It's practically the same thing!"
The entire call burst into laughter, and as Tori leaned in, letting Nasreen finish the last bit of healing touches, a comfortable calm washed over her.
She may not have asked for this family, this closeness, or the very real laughter that echoed through the halls, but she sure loved every single moment of it. Part of her should've been mad, even as Mom and Dad were hashing out logistics and Tori's health insurance, but a whole lot of her was too relieved to care. Good thing too, because Russell had sure signed her up for a good, long unexpected furlough.
Then Russ leaned in, squeezing her hand, and the world finally felt still.
Fandom: Uncharted & DCU
Universe: Honey's Sweeter
Relationships: Tim Drake & Tori Drake, Russell Drake & Tori Drake, Russell Drake & Tori Drake & Tim Drake, mentioned Nathan Drake/Elena Fisher, mentioned Russell Drake/Nasreen Asselah
Summary: Amidst the chaos of Tim inheriting a multinational corporation, Tori reflects on her family, and how she wouldn't trade any of them for the world.
Notes: One part of a birthday present for
camalyng, this fic was based off this tumblr image. DCU Tim may have inherited Wayne Tech, but Honey's Tim has sensible parents and would've veto'ed this in a heartbeat. Exploring that change was the impetus in such a fic - and namely, how it affected Tim's siblings more than Tim himself. Drakes of a Feather Mom:
ABSOLUTELY NOT
I don't care if Bruce Wayne left it to you in his will. You're not telling them yes!!
Tim:
Mom, I don't want it either, but I don't have a choice in the matter?
Russ:
Pretty sure the lawyers can figure out who else would be eligible. It's not a zero-sum game, esp for something this Important
Mom:
Send me Lucius's contact info. Now!!!
You:
lol just what did mr. wayne leave you???Four people are typing . . .
In hindsight, those ellipses should have been the first sign of impeding trouble.
Tori was used to dozens of unread messages in the family group chat, but 65 unread notifications were unusual, even for her. Add that to a lengthy, too-verbose discussion about Mr. Wayne's will and Tim inheriting something, and the whole world was boiling over.
A few nights ago, Tim had collapsed at her doorstep, his entire body in shambles. Crooked domino mask hanging off his right cheek, unkempt hair, scrapes and cuts on his arms, and an expression that wouldn't leave the edges of her memory. He hadn't said a single word. He tripped on empty air at the sight of her, and he stretched his arms wide for the tightest hug of his life.
Tori couldn't dispel the moment with a terrible joke or some banter. She couldn't even shrug him off. He had refused to let go of her the entire night, his nails and fingertips digging into her skin as if she too would disappear.
Mom's texts were the only reason he had hastily retreated back to Atlanta on the next flight.
To the world at large, Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire extraordinaire, had enrolled in rehab for alcoholism. To Tim, to Tori, to those who knew better, Bruce Wayne had passed away. Tim had explained it once: superheroes and their ilk never remained dead for long. Rather than declaring a cause of death and creating a sea of paperwork, they kept the truth under lock-and-key.
If Bruce was still dead a year later, then the world would get to know. If, Tim had kept insisting, because his mentor was somewhere in the great, wide, vast multiverse – and Tim was going to be the one to bring him home.
None of their family chats indicated such determination. Then again, if Mom knew of Timmy's plans, Mom would have veto'ed them with the fury of a thousand suns. That same wrath in her texts, born of her anxious fretting, was loud and clear.
Problem was, Timmy could have inherited just about anything after Mr. Wayne's death, and he still would have merited this overreaction. Terrible, color-clashing Batsuits; the actual Wayne Manor; a couple of sports cars; or maybe one of the dozens of safe houses littered across America.
As much as she would love to make this family conversation her problem, her work was calling her name. So she set her phone aside and stared out at the endless sea ahead of her. Los Angeles - and her job reclaiming Greek heritage - was a higher priority.
She could deal with the incoming family implosion later. Much, much later.
Upon finishing work and dragging her sorry, sore butt and sprained wrist back into the bar, Tori's head was throbbing. The news had focused on one person and one person alone: Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire and CEO of WayneTech.
Bruce Wayne has stepped down from WayneTech while he takes care of personal matters, said all the reporters. The Wayne family has asked for privacy in this tumultuous time as new leadership is set to take the stage and alter the course...
Timmy would've had a funny quip or two about such a turn of events. He also would've explained the shadow-y politics ad nauseam, until even Russ was sick of the hierarchy and the sleight of hand behind the green curtain.
("Just get to the point," Russ would insist, with all the patience drained from him. "We get it. Bruce trusts you with everything.")
Against her better judgment, Tori fiddled with her phone and saw the first unread message from her baby brother:
His company.
Bruce left me his company. All tech patents, all day to day operations, all major plans
All of it.
Her brother was– her brother effectively owned a good chunk of Gotham now.
Tori's stomach churned and twisted into knots as she scrolled back up and skimmed new, incoming messages: Mom's anger, Dad's attempts at levity, and even Russ's studious responsibility. Tim didn't want this. No kid wanted this kind of responsibility on their shoulders.
Her baby brother was paranoid and well-aware of the cloaks and daggers present in Gotham. He was also well acquainted with its numbers, thanks to Uncle Tom. He was... he was also way in over his head. He had zero experience with managing a household budget, let alone something worth half of Gotham's GDP. Tori should have expressed those worries and fears to him. Instead, all she could text back was:
wait, really?
does this mean i get your room now? ;)
A dozen weary-faced emojis was her only reply.
"Catching up on some light reading?" A familiar voice called from behind, tickling her ear.
Tori flinched. She didn't have to turn around to know just who had come, let alone why they would've have taken their brand-new Honda Accord into the darkest part of town and sauntered into this dingy, poorly-lit bar to find her.
"A little heavier than I'd like," she had to admit, twirling her chair to face him. "It's okay, Russ. You can go home."
"You weren't answering any of our texts, so humor me," her brother said, resting his elbows on the table as he flagged down the bartender. "First round's on me."
A couple of years ago, Russell had accepted a position as a firm architect in Los Angeles. His career was just beginning, and he needed the experience wherever he could get it. Plus, as he had told Mom and Dad, Peyton and Maxine had called LA home for several years. He wouldn't be alone here– and sure enough, he had found his soulmate and life partner Nasreen here. They had married, and now they were expecting a first child in a few months.
Tori had just hoped, against all odds, that Russ wouldn't have checked her phone GPS. That for once in his life, Russ would eschew responsibility and chuck her into a "for later" kind of bin. Russ had a new wife and a new family to support. Russ could have walked away from all of this (from her) and the world would have understood.
Instead, the endless sunshine was standing here, in a freshly-pressed suit (the suit she had tailored for him, for his first Real Job Interview), laughing at some dumb joke the bartender had made. He was sipping a cappuccino and loosening the tie around his neck, and he was acting like he belonged here. Like he had somehow become a full-fledged treasure hunter when none of them were looking.
Part of her had expected Red Robin or Blackbird to skulk out of the shadows, but after such a brusque text - her little brother would be lucky to see the sun. Russ probably knew this. Russ probably knew everything, and he was probably going to lay down the law. He would drag her bruised, sore butt back to Atlanta and give Mom and Dad yet another thunderclap migraine.
"So," Tori began, exhaling and bracing herself for the worst.
"So you forgot to tell me you were in town," Russ finished, taking another sip of his drink. "I can't believe I had to find out through 'Find My Friends' again."
"Because that worked out so great for Timmy the first time," Tori couldn't help quipping as her non-injured hand wrapped around her drink.
Russ narrowed his eyes at her. "Because you were 'involved' with his job, V. If it weren't for his quick thinking, you might have compromised his mission."
"Is that what he told you?"
A girl sleeps with a criminal once, and she gets the stink-eye from Blackbird and Mr. Sunshine. Tori couldn't fight the smirk on her face, even as she peers back up at her brother.
"No. He said you were busy, but it doesn't take a genius to know what kind of busy he meant." Russell sighed, with sudden exhaustion wearing down his shoulders. "I should've been more blunt, but I'm..."
"Trying to be more PG, I get it."
The glare he gave her was almost worth such a statement. Almost, because Tori could even feel her own cheeks burning a bright red.
After a few seconds of silence, Russell leaned forward, twirling his finger along the edge of his cup's saucer.
"He's too young to take over something that big," he murmured. "He's seventeen. When I was seventeen, I was playing varsity soccer. I was thinking about college, drawing for AP Art, building up my portfolio, dreaming of... of being allowed to enjoy high school. I don't know. Maybe it's foolish of me to think Timmy doesn't want that for himself–"
"It's incredibly foolish, but I can't talk." Tori set down her drink and turned her body to fully face Russell. "I mean, I ran off before my senior year. I knew what I wanted, and high school wasn't it. My GED was like, an afterthought."
"Yeah, because Aunt Chloe forced your hand and made it her life mission–" Russell blinked, staring down at her sprained wrist. "The hell, Victoria?!"
As he called the bartender for a pack of ice wrapped in a towel, and also probably an ambulance for good measure because her older brother was nothing if not a buzzkill, Tori slammed down the rest of her cappuccino. If she was going to see the doctor, she might as well go fully caffeinated.
She might as well– she might as well have Russell place the wrapped ice over her wrist and have him inspect the arm for any other cuts, scrapes, or bruises. Her brother brushed his fingertips against her skin and asked her about tender spots. He even tugged off his tie and wrapped it around her wrist, in an imitation of a compression bandage.
Tori could only blink back surprise at her Boy Scout of a brother– "You're not taking me to urgent care?"
"You wouldn't go." Russ's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Nasreen gets off in an hour, anyway, and she's the best doctor we know."
"Oh."
The wind sucked out of her sails, Tori could only bow her head in thanks and deference.
He could have pulled her out of the bar. He absolutely would've been right to drag her sorry ass out of the comfort and into the hospital, and he would have been lauded by everyone they knew. Frankly, he probably would take her to the doctor tomorrow.
"Anyway." Russ sighed, his gaze never quite leaving her injured wrist, "You're both determined to give me an early heart attack, aren't you?"
"We also chose these things," Tori refuted. "I wanted my job, and to chase the world in the process. I wanted to see more than what Mom and Dad would've given us. I can't say I know what Timmy wants, but - some day, he would've taken over Bruce's company anyway. This whole thing's just... accelerating it."
Russell gave Tori a blank, almost incredulous stare. "So you're saying you want a high school senior in charge of a mulitnational corporation? One of the biggest employers in Gotham? A Fortune 500? Our Timmy?"
For the sake of arguing, Tori pointed out, "He'll have Lucius, won't he? Plus the other kids?"
"Let me rephrase this," Russell sighed, pinching his temple. "Timmy will be Lucius's boss. He will be everyone's boss before he even gets his diploma."
All color left Tori's face as the weight of Russell's words finally hit her– "Shit."
"Yeah." Russell's shoulders sagged as he hunched forward with defeat. "The world's gone to shit."
Tori didn't argue as Russell paid for their drinks, or as he ushered her into his car and they drove down to his new condo in the suburbs. She didn't even argue as he filled their silence with the radio and its dulcet tones of smooth jazz. Considering her wrist, and Tim's newfound inheritance, she couldn't say she had the right.
Her job had been a rousing success. Her body was a different story (and she was only lucky her wrist was the more obvious injury of the night). Tim's job, and the silent, permanent scrapes and scars scattered across his body, were going to be the talk of the nation when he accepted the position. They could only hide so much before the truth revealed itself before everyone.
Bruce Wayne wasn't in rehab for his non-existent drinking problem; Tori wasn't the perfect treasure hunter; and Tim wasn't in any shape to manage or run Wayne Tech. Russell may not even be perfect, but honestly, that was unfathomable. Russell would always be perfect.
Everyone else was struggling and hobbling along on empty fumes, and here he was, driving the safest car in America with a full tank of gas. He made that kind of excellent effortless - as if he rose to the top by breathing alone.
"–you're right," Tori finally admitted, during a lull in the music.
Russell glanced at her through the rearview mirror. "What do you mean?"
"Timmy. You're right about him being a kid. He should get to finish high school, if that's what he wants to do. I–I was being an ass. I was arguing that he may not want that for himself, but he's more of a nerd than you are."
Russell actually laughed at that, the freaking nerd and Boy Scout. "He's cautious. Totally different things."
"You think Mom'll be able to get the board off his back?"
"I know she will," Russell said, flashing her that blinding smile of his. God, he was brighter than the sun shining through his windows. "If she could leverage her Survivor win into fame, she can do anything. She's not Elena-fucking-Fisher for nothing."
Tori laughed, despite it all, despite the numb throbbing that reverberated through her body– "Russell Yunus Drake! Language!"
"So I'm not allowed to curse now?"
"It's weird! It's like watching the sun burn someone - valid, but it totally goes against the circle of life."
Russell shot Tori a very strange, almost bemused look, but he couldn't help joining in the laughter. Their overall family may be imploding back in Atlanta. Their lives may be weird (and full of injury and grievances).
For just one short moment, though, she could pretend that she was a kid, and Russ was there, patching her up as if nothing had ever happened. It was the natural order of things: Tori patches Timmy up, Russell patches Tori up, and she supposed, Mom and Dad patched Russ up. As if Russ ever needed patching up to begin with.
Her older brother swallowed, with a slightly uneasy look in his eyes despite his smile. "Well, the sun will curse all he wants, the universe be damned."
Tori leaned back in her seat, peering up at the setting sun and at the corner that foretold Russell's house– "Damn straight he can. He can do anything."
"Not everything," he murmured, his smile growing genuine, if almost wistful. "That's where you come in."
Tori pretended to ignore that as she peered out the window. Her, do something Russell couldn't? He must've been dreaming again, or the family structure had actually imploded upon itself with Timmy's new job dilemma...
"I'm serious, V. If the world were left up to me, it would be safe, comfortable, maybe a little boring. But you and Tim - you go out there and take risks. You do what your hearts desire, and I don't know. I kind of worry I missed out on something."
"What?" Tori was gawking at him, despite the pain, despite the sun shining, despite the music. "You're kidding, right? You're the Russell Drake. You can do anything you want. You didn't miss out on a single thing."
"I could tell you otherwise," he said, his shoulders slumping as he turned the corner. "My baby brother inherits a multi-million company before he finishes high school, you're off returning museum artifacts to their rightful owners, and I'm... designing buildings for the government? Random celebrities? How is that even on the same scale?"
Tori paused, crossing one leg up under her as she cradled her injured arm.
Any other time, she supposed she wouldn't have understood or entertained such a notion. Russell had shouldered the world as if he had owned it from day one – and he, of all people, understood the privilege he had wielded as he dove into every challenge head-first. Yet, she hadn't stopped once to think about how ordinary and safe might look next to extraordinary and danger.
"It's not," she had to admit, holding up a couple of fingers, "But! We weren't on the same scales to begin with. Timmy and I can afford to fling our lives away because we know you'll be there when we get home. You're - like the hearth. The reason we know we're going to be okay in the end."
A slow, almost unreadable expression crossed his face, "Like Hestia?"
"Ew, no. Better than Hestia." Tori wrinkled her nose. "You're the anchor that holds us together. The reason we do what we do, you know? Though hell if I have to admit that to you all over again."
"So I'm the reason you treasure hunt?"
"You're the reason I went into reparations," Tori corrected, with a soft, almost fond smile. "I could've been like Mom and Dad, but it feels more right to do that kind of work. To restore what should rightfully belong to someone else and right the wrongs of history."
Russ blinked back the beginnings of tears, and her sappy, perfect, sunshine brother's voice almost cracked as he said, "Oh."
"God, Russ," Tori exaggerated a loud groan, dragging down her non-injured hand down her face, "You are such a sap!"
Russell was laughing again, like he was sharing some private joke between him and the whispering of trumpets and saxophones in the background, "I know. Trust me, I know."
Nasreen, as promised, arrived home within the hour to inspect Tori's wrist. Her beloved sister-in-law changed out of her scrubs and into home clothes (per hospital regulations) and immediately set to work.
Tori followed Nasreen's every instruction to the letter: keep the wrist elevated above the heart, telling her where any touch hurt, and more pressingly, telling her doctor in-law how the injury occurred.
"–during a chase?" Nasreen had to fight back a laugh, biting on her lip. "Just what kind of work do you do?"
Tori batted her eyelashes, in a strong attempt at innocence. "Museum reparations. Cultural heritage, negotiations, that kind of thing. You know how greedy Americans are."
Nasreen's laugh was genuine, even as she shook her head at Tori. "How did I marry into this family?"
"Because you love us?"
A soft, fond look crossed Nasreen's face as Russell walked in. "That I do."
Russell shot them both the same fond expression, even as he shook his head at both of them. Pulling out his phone and hitting the speaker button, he started up a conference call with the rest of the family.
Ideally, Tori's check up would have ended by then, but she had done worse on family phone calls. A doctor home visit would be the least of their concerns.
"–Tori's home with me," Russell was telling Mom, Dad, and Timmy. "She's fine."
Nasreen and Tori blinked up at Russell, but he only placed two fingers to his lips.
"He really loves you too," murmured Nasreen as she too inspected Tori's wrist for tender spots. "He should've sent you to urgent care, which is exactly what I'm going to do first thing tomorrow, but..."
"He knew I didn't want to go. I would've just made it worse on all of you." Tori flinched, sucking in a breath to hide her pain.
"Oh, good," Mom's relieved voice came through the phone, loud and clear. "Work went okay?"
"Very okay," Tori called, sitting up straighter to help Nasreen. "In fact, it did so well that I'll be off for a while."
On account of wrist injury and not, say, a beautiful paycheck, but Mom and Dad didn't need to know that just yet. Russell's frown said more than enough, and well - her health insurance claims would too, once they actually got her to urgent care.
"In fact, she's already agreed to stay back in LA a little longer and help me and Nasreen during her last trimester," Russell added, with a slow, devious smile.
Tori would have argued that insinuation then and there, but she could only blink back awe and genuine pride.
"She did?" Dad drew in a surprised, if relieved, laugh. "Thanks, Tori. You know your Mom and I would've been there if we could."
"Yes, thank you. That's awfully considerate of you," Mom added, with a hint of suspicion in her own voice.
Tori puffed up, "I can be nice sometimes, you know! Work's booming, but what's that old saying? Family is forever?"
When they weren't volunteering their injured, defenseless little sisters into housework and at least a few months of domestic torture, at the very least. Tori hadn't thought Russell remotely capable of such sabotage. Then again, Russ was a Drake. That kind of scheming ran through their blood.
"Well, speaking of family... I'm not taking the job," Tim added, almost as an afterthought.
Russell seized the phone, "You're not?? Really?"
"Lucius agreed with us," Mom said, relief evident in her voice, even all the way from here in LA. "He's in no shape to lead WayneTech. Maybe once he gets an MBA, but definitely not right now."
"Plus, I wanna finish my senior year. Go to prom. Do all of that stuff without worrying about people's stocks and shareholders and a bunch of other stuff I'm forgetting?"
"Awww, but you would've been good at it," Tori couldn't help joking, even as relief and gratitude colored her own voice. "Think about it: CEO Timmy. Has a nice ring to it."
Tim's sigh could have woken the neighbors, "You just wanted my room. Which, by the way, you can't have because you're not even here half the time."
"Well, she's helping me for a while. That oughta earn her some brownie points," Russell pointed out with a laugh. "She could swoop in and come snag it when she gets home..."
Tori settled for narrowing her eyes and glaring at him as Mom might have. She even tried to raise her chin in defiance at his sudden scheming, but Nasreen pinched a nerve a little too tight, and the pain throbbed in her head.
Russell paused upon seeing her face– "Or, you know, you could take one for the team. Give her that room as a birthday present."
"Never," Tim crowed, like the actual bird-themed superhero he was.
"That's not very heroic of you," Dad had to point out, with his loud, booming voice. "Didn't someone say sharing is caring?"
"Again," Tim only paused for dramatic emphasis, "Never. She'll have to fight me for it."
Tori couldn't help teasing, "Then bring it on, nerd. Come and brawl me in LA, if you've got the feathers for it."
"Muscles," Tim was groaning. "You mean muscles."
"You're a birdbrain! It's practically the same thing!"
The entire call burst into laughter, and as Tori leaned in, letting Nasreen finish the last bit of healing touches, a comfortable calm washed over her.
She may not have asked for this family, this closeness, or the very real laughter that echoed through the halls, but she sure loved every single moment of it. Part of her should've been mad, even as Mom and Dad were hashing out logistics and Tori's health insurance, but a whole lot of her was too relieved to care. Good thing too, because Russell had sure signed her up for a good, long unexpected furlough.
Then Russ leaned in, squeezing her hand, and the world finally felt still.