Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Maybe this was it. This was the thing worse than death. No matter how much he begged for it, he couldn't seem to die.

Everyone was gone, and Tim sat alone in a cold, barren manor that echoed far too much. They were all dead, his whole family. He couldn’t save them, no matter how many hours of fighting and searching and scrounging for ways to protect them, it wasn’t enough.

He wasn't enough.

First, it was Alfred. Tim wasn’t even in Gotham when Bane snapped his neck. He heard about it on a mission in Europe. Alfred was supposed to be invincible. He was supposed to live forever.

After that, it was Jason and Damian. Tim wasn’t there for that either. Once again, he was on a mission. It seemed like every time one of his family members died, he was off helping someone else. Too preoccupied to protect them.

So, when Bruce was next, he made sure he was there for that. He can’t stop seeing him take his last breath. Covered in blood and bruises. Dying for his family like he always wanted.

He was still mourning Bruce when he heard about Barbara. He hadn’t even known she’d been somewhere outside Gotham at the time.

Everything was all too much. It seemed like the last few months, a curse had been cast on the family. Or maybe just Tim, since he was the last one left. Like dominoes falling, they all kept dying one after another.

Dick was the last to go. He and Tim fought side by side, but in the end, Tim couldn’t protect him, and his brother fell.

Now, a week after the last death in the family, Gotham had descended into madness. It felt like he had as well. There was no one left to turn to. No one was left to help him. So, when the idea popped in his head, the initial instinct to cast it away was brushed off.

It was stupid and reckless. Bruce would definitely kill him for it, but Bruce wasn't here to do that anymore.

So Tim went to the cave and gathered up some old contact info and sent the message. Honestly, the last thing he was expecting was a response.

…

A week later, the old, foul-smelling magician appeared in the cave.

“Constantine,” Tim nodded in acknowledgement and hidden surprise.

He turned to Tim with a flutter of his long jacket and smiled, “Tim! Good to see you, it's been a while.”

The overly enthusiastic tone grated on him more than it needed to. It’s been a long week, but it's not as though they were friends. “Uh, yeah. I’m surprised you came.”

“Anything for a friend!” He had no idea when he got that status with him, but it worked in Tim's favor for the moment. “I heard about the Old Bat, my condolences.” The tone he switched to for that made him far prefer the earlier one.

Tim shifted awkwardly, “Oh, um yeah, that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” He paused for a moment to gather up the courage. This could go horribly wrong if Constantine told anyone on the Justice League, he could get in big trouble. He really did not have the energy for trouble these days. But that’s why he picked Constantine and not Zatana. Constantine was the last person to go blabbing to the League. And if this doesn't work out, then Tim wasn’t sure what he would do, what there was left to do, which is why he has to do this. Not just for him, but for everyone who was not breathing right now because of him. He took a deep breath, “I want you to send me back in time.”

Constantine burst out laughing. Tim stood there awkwardly as he let him have his moment. When he noticed Tim’s unchanging composure, all humor left his body, and the expert sorcerer he was took over.

“You don’t know what you're talking about. You can’t ask me something like that.”

Tim felt desperation already taking hold of him, “Look around you! Look at Gotham! Without Batman, the city will fall apart, it already is!”

Constantine began pacing around the room and shaking his head, “Messing with time is always a bad idea. Things happen for a reason, you can’t just change that, it’s against the rules!

“Since when do you care about rules?”

“This is different! This is time!”

Tim scoffed, “Look, I know I messed up, and I know people aren’t supposed to get second chances, but I’m telling you this isn’t how things are supposed to be, this can't be how things are supposed to be! Whatever the price is, I'll pay it, but please, you have to let me fix this.” He was just flat out pleading with the man by the end of his speech.

Some emotion flashed over Constantine's face, but he couldn’t tell if it was pity or surprise by the time it was gone, but some part of what he said seemed to get through to him.

“You understand if I help you go back, it doesn’t necessarily mean that you’ll change anything.” The thought of going through all that again seemed to strike him right in the heart, but for them, he would.

“I understand. But I have to try. Please?”

Constantine seemed to mull it over. Mumbling to himself and passing to the main area of the cave, before turning to Tim with a hesitant look in his eye. “Alright, I'm sure I'll regret this, but alright. After all, what good is being a sorcerer if I can't break the rules of time every once in a while?”

Constantine began to pull things out of his pocket and take over the large space, while pushing Tim to the side. Tim was still a bit in shock at the answer he received. He was expecting to fight a lot harder for that “yes,” but he supposed that just makes it easier on him.

This was it, he was going to get another chance. Get to see them again. He let the feeling wash over him for a moment. A feeling that he had long since forgotten, he could feel. Hope. He was hopeful again. Hope for a new future. He was prepared to fight till his last breath for it. Even if they would hate him, he wasn’t taking any chances. He would break every last rule Bruce had and make up as many lies as he could so long as it saved them.

So Tim approached the sorcerer, “What do you need from me?”

He shoved what looked like a flask into Tim’s hands, “Um, is this really the time to drink?”

“Wha- it's salt you idiot. Make a large circle.” Tim smuffled a small scoff and complied, taking care to make sure there were no gaps in the circle and it was a circular as can be. Probably overkill, but he didn’t think he needed Tim to assist on a lot of whatever wizardry stuff he was doing over there, so he took his time.

“Done,” Constantine shot up from where he was lining up some sort of red powder on the ground.

That felt unnervingly quick but he wasnt about to piss off the one person helping him right now by voicing his concerns.

“Stand there,” he pointed to the center of the circle, and Tim did as such. “Now I want to make sure one last time you understand what you’re doing, because there is no going back once you do this, and there will be a cost.”

Tim took a deep breath, “I’m sure. I’ll do whatever it takes.” Whatever it takes.

“Right then! Let’s get this show on the road.” He took a small knife out of some hidden pocket in that ridiculous trench coat and handed it to Tim.

“You don’t happen to know what this price will be, do you?”

“Nope!” Great. “Now when I say, you're going to use that knife and make a long incision on both forearms, then when-”

“Wait, what! I’ll bleed out!” Tim felt panic taking over.

He rolled his eyes, “If you would let me finish. You need to sort of die for this to work. You’re not exactly time traveling, but more traveling bodies. You need to let this body die to travel to your past one. Speaking of which, when exactly am I sending you?”

Oh shit. Tim probably should have had the answer to that ready. It would need to be long before all of the mess he was in now happened, but not so far back that he would be incapable of doing anything, like before he met Bruce. He was 23 now and became Red Robin at 15, which was right around the time that things were better with Jason, and Damian just arrived, but then the whole Bruce in the time stream thing happened, and the family wasn’t wholly together again till he was 17. It was probably the calmest the family had ever been before things fell apart 3 years later and everyone died 6 years later, but he would fix that. He didn’t need to deal with the whole Jason-trying-to-kill-Bruce thing while trying to save them, so it would be best to go after they had somewhat reconciled and after the time stream. So 17 seemed to be his best bet. It’s not like everything was riding on this decision or something, right?

“Six years ago,” Tim nodded to himself as if it would make him sure of it.

“You’re sure? There are no redos, well, no more redos.”

“I know, I’m sure. It’s my best chance, all things considered.”

Constantine studied him for a moment, then nodded to himself, “Alright, let’s do this. You ready?” Tim nodded.

“Ok, after you make the incision, it'll start to hurt… a lot. Then I'll handle the rest of the spell, you should just sort of fall asleep, I think.”

“You think?” Alarm spread through him.

“I’ve never done this before, alright! Just be glad I’m helping you. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” The look of uncertainty on his face did not settle Tim’s nerves. “Let’s just start.”

“Constantine,” He looked at Tim, “Thank you.”

He sighed and shook his head, “Sure, kid. I hope you find what you're looking for.”

He began to mutter a great many things in Latin, which Tim didn’t bother trying to decipher.

So, Tim prepared himself. He didn’t care that it would hurt or that there were so many holes and uncertainties in this plan. He didn’t even know what price he was paying for this. All he knew was that it was worth the price and the pain. He would save them this time, even if it cost him his life or his soul or whatever he was giving up. He could do this.

His focus shifted back to the man in front of him at the sudden uptick of wind in the room. The salt began to rise and blow in a circle around him, mixing with the red powder from earlier, but some other strange dust that was strategically placed inside the circle didn't seem to be affected by the wind. Constantine was shouting the words now, trying to be louder than the sound of the wind drowning his voice out. His image was getting blurrier as the salt circled faster in front of Tim.

“Now! Do it now!” He barely heard the shout from the other side of the salt wall.

Tim didn’t hesitate to take the knife in his shaking hand and make the first cut, making sure it was deep and long. He wasn’t taking any chances here. He has to make sure this kills him. He couldn’t even feel the cut with adrenaline coursing through him, and soon moving onto the other arm, ignoring the way it seemed to violently gush out of him with no end in sight. There was no going back now.

The knife slipped from his blood-coated fingers as he finished the second cut, already feeling lightheaded. He looked where Constantine was and found he could only see the outline of his body at this point. His voice was fully drowned out by the wind in his ears. It made him feel utterly alone.

The blood was sliding down his arm faster than he could process it. He didn’t think it would be this quick. Was death really so easy? Just some cuts on his arm and that's all it took to kill Batman’s third Robin. Except he wasn’t dying really, but he couldn’t stop it when the thought that, if the spell didn’t work and this really was the end, he didn’t mind, took over. What did he even have to go back to anyway? An empty manor, too big to fill by himself? Or a graveyard with too many stones? No, he did not mind at all if this was it. At least he died trying.

The thought overtook him as his knees gave out and he slid to the ground. Looking at the swirling salt in front of him and the outline of the last person who was willing to help him. He could feel the world slipping from his fingers.

Then, just when he thought the darkness would gather him up and take him swiftly away, unbearable, scorching hot pain shot through his whole body. He would have let out a scream if he still felt like he had a mouth. The pain seemed to be never-ending and all-consuming. From the back of his eyes to the tips of his toes, it ripped through him. Any and all thoughts escaped him as the pain became the only thing he could think of. It was the only thing there ever was.

Just pain and pain and pain forever.

Then it just stopped.

It was so sudden he almost wondered if it really stopped or if it became so much he just stopped feeling, but when he took a breath and there was no fire in his lungs, then he realized that it was over.

Only then did it occur to him that he had just taken a breath. Wasn’t he supposed to be dead? He had also just realized his eyes were closed. He was almost afraid to open them. Afraid to leave the comforting arms of the darkness and face the light. But he had to know.

So, with every ounce of will he had, after the pain took so much, he pried his eyes open. The light seemed to attack him, like when you turn on the lights in a too dark room. But when they adjusted, he found he was in the last place he would have expected. Or maybe it should have been the first, as he remembered exactly what he just did.

He was in his room, in the manor, and it was messy, but not the mess it should be. Instead of broken glass from breaking the mirror in a fury, there were clothes strewn about the room. Instead of a bloody Red Robin suit on the bed from the last time he wore it two weeks ago, there were crumbled bed sheets and his laptop at the base. He couldn’t remember the last time he worked in this room on that thing.

So does that mean-?

He took a sharp intake of breath, suddenly doing a self-inventory. Bruce always taught them to check for injury when waking up in a strange and unusual place. Only this wasn’t a strange and unusual place, was it?

Still, he checked. He had all four limbs, but was alarmed by the Superman PJ pants he adorned. Tim hadn’t worn anything of the sort since his fight with Clark after Bruce… He remembered that he was supposed to be in his old body, so he checked for a scar on his left shoulder that he got when he was 20. If he really went back, he shouldn’t have it. He didn’t. He really was back in his 17-year-old body. That was freaky.

That’s not the part that was causing him the most alarm at the moment, though. He had all the right limbs and scars, except for the two long, half-healed scars down both of his forearms.

“Shit!”

“Master Tim, are you alright in there?” said a voice from the other side of the door.

Tim froze.

Chapter Text

Tim froze.

 That voice, those words, he hadn’t heard them since-

 “Master Tim?” His brain finally started working again, and he threw the sheets off him and sprang off the bed.

 “Uh, yeah, I'm good.” He tried his best to keep his voice from shaking. He couldn’t open the door till he found something with longer sleeves, and he was frantically running around the room searching the piles of clothes for something to throw on. 

 “May I come in?” Alfred's voice made panic run through his veins. He would not mess this up in the first ten minutes of getting here. 

 “Just a second,” He shouted back before throwing his current t-shirt off. 

 “I just wanted to say dinner is ready, I trust I'll see you down there in a timely manner?” He forgot how much he missed hearing Alfred’s fancy, old way of talking. It almost made him stop in his tracks and take in just how real this all actually was, but he shook it off and continued with what he was doing.

 “Oh, um yea,” He said in a hesitant voice. This all felt so surreal. 

 He finally threw on an old crewneck that he hadn't seen in a few years (he supposed that wasn’t true anymore) and listened to Alfred's steps as he walked away from the door. 

 What was he supposed to do now? Just eat dinner with his dead family? That's precisely what he would do because this was it. This was his second chance. He would not mess this up. 
 
 He needed to figure out exactly what time he was in and what was happening without making anyone raise any suspicions. Which meant that when he finally faced his family again, he could not cry or shout or act out of the ordinary in any way whatsoever. He had to act as though they were not dead and he was not from the future. Easy enough, right? 
 
 He took a shaky breath in and approached the door. He couldn’t help but hesitate. No. He was Red Robin, and he would not be bested by a door. He grabbed the handle, tried his best not to think about what was on the other side, and turned it.
 
 The hallway was empty but still felt like it had more life in it than Tim had seen in a long time. The whole atmosphere just felt different. He continued forward, because where else was there to go? 

He reached the stairs when he started to wonder exactly who else would be at this dinner. At this point in his family history, it could really be anyone. Jason and Bruce were on better-ish terms. He was coming over relatively frequently at this point, at least Tim thought so. Dick was working in Blüdhaven but came over every weekend. Tim had no idea what day of the week it was, another thing to figure out. Damian lived here, as well as Bruce, so they should both be there. 

He didn’t like the odds of them all being there, he didn’t know if he could handle it. But there is no way all of them would be here, right? 

He was in view of the entrance to the dining room now, and the sound of a few too many voices reached him. That unnerved him, but this whole thing was unnerving him, so he took a few slow steps toward the entrance before stopping again.

Why was this so hard? The family that he broke the laws of time for was standing on the other side of that wall. So why did this terrify him so much? 

It didn’t matter. If he ran away now or freaked out when he got in there, then all this would be for naught. So he pushed the fear and the dread and the excitement deep down and locked it away. He honed in on his Red Robin training for controlling emotions and prayed that his family didn’t catch on. 

He walked into the room.

“Tim! Took you long enough” Dick smiled at him from the seat at the end of the table.

They were all there. Dick, Jason, Damian, Alfred, and Bruce. All sitting in this dining room once again. He couldn’t believe this was real. They were really-

No. 

No, he couldn’t do that. Tim walked to his seat next to Jason.
 
Jason, whom he couldn’t save. Jason, who died while Tim was too preoccupied with his mission. He remembered hearing about it while he was in Europe. Hearing how he was in a building trying to save Damian when it blew up. Jason, who died twice by fire, and Tim were nowhere to be found.

They had offered to take him with them on the mission, but Tim had wanted to finish his current case, so he declined. If he had just been there, maybe he could have- 

Tim snapped out of it and looked at the food in front of him. It was easier than looking at them. They were all preoccupied with varying conversations. The food was chicken and rice, but the seasoning was some special blend Alfred always used. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a home-cooked meal. It looked so perfect on the plate. So much so that he almost didn’t want to pick up the fork and eat it. 

What was he doing? 

Getting all weepy over some chicken? He needed to snap out of it and think logically. He needed to focus and remember the goal: figure out exactly what time he is in and what is most prominent at the moment. Listening to their conversation would probably be a good start. 

“I should be ready to take action within a few days,” Dick said while looking at Bruce. 

What were they talking about?

“Good, let me know if you want help on it,” that seemed to tick Dick off a little. 

“I can handle my own things in Blüdhaven, I don’t need you to save me.”

“Then why did you bring it up, Grayson?” Damian interjected.

“Wha- He asked!”

Bruce held up a hand, “I know you are fully capable of handling your own things, but if you want the help, it is here.” That seemed uncharacteristically generous for Bruce. Maybe he didn’t remember this time as well as Tim thought. So much has changed in the last six years. 

Dick seemed to calm down at that. What had him so tense? “Yeah, okay.”

“Tim,” Oh no, “how is the presentation going?” Bruce directed his attention to him. 

What was he talking about? What presentation? Tim had to calm down. He could wing his way through this. “It's going well,” he tried to sound sure of himself. 

“And when are you presenting?” Since when did Bruce ask him questions like this?

Tim gave him a blank stare.

“To the board,” he urged on.

This must have been something he was presenting for Wayne Industries. He did so many of these presentations over the years; there is no way he could guess the correct one that Bruce was talking about. He just needed to give him a date. It had to be a weekday and since Dick was here it was most likely the weekend right now so… “Wednesday.” He said with all the confidence and hope that it wouldn’t be a ridiculous thing to say. 

Tim searched Bruce’s face for an adverse reaction and tried not to sigh in relief when he found none. Not that it was much reassurance considering how hard it was to read Bruce. He liked to think that after all these years, he had gotten good at reading him, but you never knew with Bruce, and it had been a long time since he was around this Bruce. 

Bruce nodded and moved on to speak to Damian about schoolwork or something else, but Tim stopped paying attention. 

Damian and Tim had been on bad terms when he left for the mission. The mission Damian never came back from. Despite their violent history, he was still Tim’s brother. A lesson he learned far too late. When he heard about it, the regret of their last conversation haunted his nightmares. He could only hope that Damian hadn’t died thinking Tim hated him, even if he hated himself for not being there.

This was too much for him. He couldn’t focus and was completely overwhelmed. He just wanted to focus on what he could do, but he needed the cave for that, and there was no way he could sneak off right now. 

He couldn’t help but perk up when the idea popped in his head. Jason sent him a weird look, which he promptly ignored. “Actually,” he got a glare from Damian for interrupting whatever he was talking to Bruce about, “I just got an idea for the presentation, I need to write it down before I forget.” Tim had already stood from the table and grabbed his dish. “I’ll see you in the cave later,” he said as he escaped to the kitchen to put his dish by the sink, barely able to hear their protests anymore. It was weird, which was exactly the impression he didn’t want to give right now, but he couldn’t sit there and pretend everything was normal for one moment more. He needed more time. He needed to think, and the best place he did that was the cave, where no one would be for a few more hours. 

…

Tim spent the next few hours spinning around in the Bat-chair™, contemplating life, or rather his old life (his new life?), It was all so confusing. When he made this plan, he didn’t account for them being so… Alive. That was the only thing he wanted, but actually seeing it was different. He just thought that when he saw them truly living and breathing, he could move past their deaths and focus just on preventing them from happening. It seemed this was going to be a lot harder than he thought. 

When he was young and his parents would go on one of their month-long trips, sometimes he would imagine that they were still at home with him. It made the big house feel less daunting when he was all alone, so when they got back, things didn’t feel all that different. He never cried when they got home or ran into their arms because to him, they never left.

So maybe, what he needed to do is just pretend they never actually did die, and at some point, that would start to feel true. The last thing he needed was for them to get suspicious of him and think he was some sort of impostor for acting so different all of a sudden. It was the only plan he had for now, so he decided to go with it.

Tim turned his attention to the screens in front of him and set to work on figuring out when he was. It was, in fact, a Sunday. Tim smiled in satisfaction; at least he had gotten one thing relatively right since getting here. 

He searched recent files and patrol reports to try and pinpoint the exact moment in time he was. Bruce had returned from the time stream four months ago. That made Jason's being at dinner make more sense. After Bruce turned out to be alive, Jason started to hang out more. (Tim thinks it’s because he secretly really missed him, but Jason would never admit that.)

Last week, there was an attack from Scarecrow in Robinson Park, and it was noted that they needed to refill on Fear toxin antidote. 

That sent a chill down Tim’s spine. He remembered that attack; he wrote this report. There would be another attack tonight… before they refilled on antidote. 

Both he and Damian got hit with the toxin. Bruce managed to make some antidote before irreparable damage was done, but both of them were out for the rest of the week. It had been a horrible night that he would not soon forget. 

This was it, though. This was something he could fix. It probably wouldn’t change the future, but it was a start. Something he could save them from. He had a chance to save Damian from going through that again. 

He stood up from the chair, went to the lab, and got to work.

Chapter Text

Tim’s abrupt leave had left them all glancing at each other in concern. He had been fine this morning, then suddenly he was all stiff and almost looked like he was in shock over dinner. It gave Dick an uneasy feeling.

Maybe he just had a rough day, or the thought of his presentation next week was getting to him. His brother wasn’t one to get nervous about company-related things, though. Tim was all numbers and reason. So long as everything was in order, and he felt like things were under control, then he was calm. 

Dick was sure it was nothing, but it couldn’t hurt to ask him later. Or he could ask Bruce. He’ll ask both. He wanted to make sure Bruce didn’t do anything stupid while he was in Blüdhaven. 

Dick has been so concentrated on this new drug bust lately that he felt he hadn't been spending as much time with his brothers. Hopefully, that wasn’t what this was about.

He glanced up at Jason to see if he was paying any attention, but he was grabbing his jacket to leave.

“Your leaving so early,” Dick tried and failed not to sound disappointed. Why did his family keep skipping family dinner?

Jason scoffed, “Relax Dickface, I’ve got a thing early tonight and I can’t be late, I’m not just skipping out on your precious family dinner, not that I’m in the family” He abruptly added the last part, prompting an eyeroll from Dick. 

“You're coming next week, right?” Dick shouted when he was already half out the doorway.

He could hear Jason’s scoff from where he was seated, “Sure, whatever.” He also managed to catch those last words on his way out as Dick slumped back down in his chair with a small triumphant smile on his face.

Once dinner was over, Dick lingered till Bruce left to go to his office, then swiftly followed behind. He slipped in the door, and Bruce didn’t even bristle, well aware of Dick trailing after him.

“Is this about Tim? I don’t know what's wrong.” Bruce said before Dick could get a word in.

 He was surprised that he even caught on to something being amiss. Normally, he was too emotionally constipated to catch things like that. He supposed Bruce was trying harder to be better at that lately, or at least Dick had told him to try. And you know the whole “World’s Greatest Detective” thing, but he digresses. 

“Did you say something to him?” Bruce just raised an eyebrow, “I don’t know, just something obnoxiously Bruce-like?” He grunted, “Okay, well, did someone else say something or did something happen on patrol?”

He finally spoke up, “I told you I don’t know what's wrong, but I’m sure it's nothing. Don’t bother him about it. He has this presentation coming up and he doesn’t need any distractions.”

“Wha- if something is wrong, then it’s more important the some presentation!”

“I know, but he was fine this morning, so just let it be. You need to focus on your Drug bust coming up. Now, brief me on the details.” 

Dick sighed. Bruce wasn’t being any help. He probably was reading into it. Things have just been so great lately that he wants to make sure everything is fine. Tim still hasn’t talked about the months when they didn’t know where he was while Bruce was missing, but he has seemed to be okay. Granted, they had all changed a lot in the last year and a half, but still Dick had questions. He’ll just have to see if this passes.

…

Tim finished up the last vial of Fear Toxin antidote when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs to the cave. 

This was the first step to changing things. It was a small change, and there was lots more work to do, but he felt accomplished still. He felt that thread of hope, he’d only just recently found, give a small tug. It gave him some sense of comfort. 

Now the hard part: making sure tonight went according to plan. The plan wasn’t actually that hard. He just needed to do what he did last time, preferably without getting hit by fear toxin, but make sure anyone who did get hit got the antidote. Easy enough. 

“Tim? What are you doing?” Dick asked from the doorway.

“Fear Toxin Antidote. We were out.” Tim said as he passed Dick in the doorway and headed to the main part to get his suit. 

Dick trailed behind, “Yeah, but Scarecrow is locked up, and we only just ran out. Wait, I thought you were working on your presentation?” 

Tim faltered, “Oh uh, I finished, plus one can never be too careful.” 

“Alright,” Dick seemed to look him over, “I was thinking, we haven’t hung out much lately, you know with my new case and your work, how about we plan something for next weekend?”

Dick sounded almost desperate. It made Tim pause. He couldn’t remember the last time they hung out. 

After Bruce, when it was just the two of them for a few weeks, the days were coated in sadness and anger. The two had hardly talked when Dick was even at the manor, and when he was they were either fighting or working. That last night, before Dick… 

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Tim was content with the satisfied look on Dick’s face when he walked away to get ready for patrol.

…

The wind blew through his hair as he grappled through the dark alleys of Gotham. The streets felt so different from the last time he was out on patrol. It made him see how much Batman affected the city; how much the city needed a Batman. 

It was nearing midnight. He couldn’t remember what time the attack happened last time, but he wasn’t taking any chances and set up near Old Gotham, where Scarecrow attacked before, and where he would be tonight. It was alarmingly close to Crime Alley and bordering on Red Hood's territory, but that was the least of Tim’s concerns. 

“RR, do you read?” The voice crackled to life in Tim’s ear. He missed that voice.

He sighed before preparing himself, “Loud and clear, Oracle.” 

It had been so long since he had seen Babs, and had her clear and lovely voice laughing in his ear. It made him remember just how less lonely these streets were with her just a click away.  

“Why are you in Hood’s territory? Is something going down I should know about?” 

He prepared for this: “Just checking out a tip I heard, should be nothing, but I’ll let you know.”

He heard her familiar clacking through the Comm, “Just keep me updated, oh, and look out for Hood. We don’t need you getting shot again.”

He let out a snort at that, “very funny.” 

“Anytime!” She was about to add something else when another line came through, and he heard a faint voice. “Sorry, RR, I gotta go.” And he heard the click off before he could get another word in. 

Right, he needed to focus. He stopped on a ledge overlooking the all too familiar street. A few sketchy-looking people were lingering in the street, and several cars were parked in front of a building across from the one he was standing on. This was the right place. He just needed to stay hidden and wait for Scarecrow to arrive. 

There were so many details he couldn’t recall. It set him on edge. He didn’t know when he would get here, how many Goons there would be, or even how they figured out he was attacking this area in the first place. All he remembered was the actual attack and the aftermath. There were just too many variables. Bruce would be disappointed. His plan was entirely not thought out and could fall apart in too many places. The only certainty he had was the five vials of Fear Toxin Antidote in his pockets. At least if he had that, then the same outcome as last time couldn’t happen. 

For some reason, this felt like a test. Like, if this didn’t work out, then what chance did he have at all of saving them from death? If he couldn’t stop this one thing from hurting him and Damian, then what was the point of the thread of hope that he kept tugging on? He somehow felt that if this plan didn’t work, then he might as well cut that thread in half. 

So the plan will work. That was the last thought that crossed his mind before a van turned around the corner, and Tim got as low and as hidden as he could be while still getting a good view. 

It stopped right next to the cars parked in front of the building across from him. No one got out for several seconds before the van was engulfed in fire. Tim barely had time to duck down below the ledge to shield his eyes from the explosion. 

He now remembered how they heard about this attack. Which meant there was probably no chance of handling this on his own and keeping the rest of them out of this. 

Tim barely had enough time to come to his new realization because he heard the squeal of tires somewhere close, and he peered over the ledge. Two new vans appeared, but they wasted no time in having the doors burst open as several men wearing the Scarecrow masks came out. 

At the same time as the vans appeared, he saw several people come out of the blown-down doorway to the old building. He did not recall there being civilians when this happened. Another unaccounted for variable that was making the plan break apart even more, but he needed to take action. There wasn’t time to ponder his rash decisions. 

He leapt off the edge of the buildings and grappled onto the one next to him to make a smooth landing before charging the first van of Scarecrows. 

Where was the real Scarecrow? 

They didn’t see him coming at them until he took down the first two with a single hit from his bo staff. Their surprise gave him enough time to give a high-powered kick to a third one, before wrapping around and knocking him out with the bo staff.

This group had four more in it, but to Tim’s dismay, he noticed the men from the other van did not stop what they were doing at his interruption, but they continued toward the old building carrying small canisters. Shit. He needed to hurry this up. 

The distraction allowed one of the men to get a good hit across Tim’s face. He let out a grunt as he fell toward the ground, but Tim quickly recovered by rolling back up. He continued his attack, heading for the man who punched him first. “That wasn’t very nice,” he said as he smashed his head into he side of the van they arrived on. 

That familiar voice crackled to life once again in his ear, “RR, do you read?” She sounded alarmed.

“Now,” He jabbed the staff into one of their guts, “is really not a good time!” 

“There has been an explosion near your location. Are you alright? Do you need backup?” Her clicking on the computer was more urgent now. 

There were only two more guys left, then he could focus on the ones headed toward the Civilians. This was taking too long, and the questions in his ear were frankly not helping. “Nope.” He collapsed the bo staff and put it away, then took out two small blades from the hidden pockets in his suit. Setting his sights on the people in front of him, he charged at them, then went low at the last second to slice open the backs of their knees. They did not get back up again. “I’m handling it.” He turned toward the old building. 

“What is the situation? You need to keep me updated. Are you hurt?” 

He couldn’t get a response in before another voice filled the Comm, “Red Robin, what is your status?” Batman’s low and steady voice made him pause. It’s been a long time since he heard that. 

It has also been a long time since he had people meddling with his patrols like this. He didn’t think that they had to be so involved in what he was doing. He said he was fine! So, why did they keep pestering him when he had a job to do? He couldn’t stop the scorching fire that filled his veins at that thought, and he continued on his trek, but not before turning off the Comm and pocketing it.

The men were nearly to the building when Tim ran at them. First, he threw a smoke bomb to slow their path into the area, then threw himself at the first one he saw. This body was slightly smaller than the one he was used to, so the full body assault didn’t do as much as he hoped. The man was knocked down, but not knocked out. To finish to job, he extended the recently collapsed blow staff over his head before the goon could get up. The force of the extension knocked him fully out. 

This group had more men. Ten instead of six. They weren’t very well trained, but the numbers were harder to keep track of. His main goal was to keep them away from the citizens, and he still needed to figure out where Crain was. He knows he was here this night. 

While he aimed his attack at the two men in front of him, one of them slipped out of the group with several canisters in hand and headed for the civilians that now crowded in the building, with the only exit blocked by the fight. 

“No!” He tries to get around the men in front of him, but the distraction lets one get a good kick on the back of his knees, knocking Tim to the ground. He tried to roll away, but another hit came at his ribcage. He gritted his teeth in pain and is pretty sure he heard a crack. 

He saw another wind up to land another kick when a loud bang echoed through the street. The man clutched his newly gushing, bloodied leg and fell to the ground before Tim. The men next to their injured comrade looked around in confusion, but were abruptly stopped by a fast flying fist to the face, and an elbow jab to another one. Tim winced at the crunch sound it made before looking up at the hulking mass of a man before him.

“Hood,” Tim stood to his feet and wasted no time before turning to the closest Goon and wacked him across the head with his bo staff, “I had it handled.”

 He shot two more right in the kneecaps, “Sure you did, Pipsqueak.”

Tim just let out an annoyed grunt before dodging a punch, then giving one back. It didn’t quite do the job, so he did a low kick, knocking the man on his back, then delivering a final punch. By the time he was done, Jason had already shot one other and knocked out the last one.

Tim took a step back to asses his surroundings, only to realize that Crain never showed up. Worry pulsed through him. He knew Crain was here last time. 

“Damn, who knew you could get so violent,” Jason quipped from behind Tim.

Tim ignored his uncharacteristically shocked tone and scanned the area, looking for anything out of place. “Something is wrong,” Tim stated while keeping himself on alert for any attack. Some of the people were taking this as their chance to leave, and Tim scanned each one before moving on.

“Uh, we got all the goons. You can calm down now, and we need to check the civilians for injury.” He could hear Jason start to walk in the direction of the people. 

“No!” Tim turned toward Jason, “This isn’t over! Where is Crain? He is supposed to be here.” Tim said the last part in a much quieter voice while looking around once more. 

Jason had stopped his walk to the people and faced Tim now, “Lots of these guys send their henchmen to do their dirty work while they cower somewhere else, you know this. Wait, isn't Crain in Arkham right now? Chill the fuck out.” He scoffed at the end of his words.

“Hood!” All of Tim’s attention was back on Jason now, “I’m telling you, Crain is here and something is-” his words were cut off by a sharp, rapidly increasing, beeping sound coming from the trucks. 

“Shit get back!” Jason didn’t even finish his sentence before Tim started to run away. 

A blast shock not as large as expected blew him several feet, and he was able to take the landing in a dive roll to minimize injury. He drew his attention right back onto the blast origin and felt his stomach drop at the sight of a green fog; Fear Gas.

He frantically searched around for Jason, only to breathe a sigh of relief when he was standing only a few yards away, “Does that thing work as a gas mask?” Tim shouted over the frightened shouts of the people who were still left in the building, the rest having run away. 

“Yeah, do you have your own?” His words sped up as the gas quickly got closer, and they backed up.

Tim wasn’t stupid. He wasn't about to go knowingly fight Crain without bringing a gas mask. He supposed Jason didn’t know this was intentional, as he slipped his out of his pouch and put it on. Now they needed to focus on the remaining Citizens. Jason was ahead of him, as he had already begun guiding them out of the remains and pointing toward a street to go to. 

Tim’s help in that was cut short as the green fog surrounded him and he lost sight of everything else. His eyes watered from the toxin as he tried to figure out what the right direction was. 

He didn’t see the punch coming. 

But he felt it when the mask was knocked from his face and he got lost in the haze. In the shock, he forgot to try and hold his breath, so he felt his lungs burn as he took his first inhale. He felt the memories of the last time this happened flash before him before he could feel the fear.

Then, the fear was all there was. 

It consumed him as he felt all the memories of the deaths he couldn’t stop encroaching on him, but the only thing that he felt faster than he felt all that death was the fear of failing. The fear of failing right now, when it most mattered. The fear that he would have to cut that new thread and lose what he had just found. That was the only thing he feared when he felt around the pouches at his belt and reached in to grab a vial. It was all he felt as he raised a shaking hand that he couldn’t see to his lips, popped the cap, and drank the whole thing. 

The last thing that he felt when the darkness came for him was that thread inside him, uncut. 

Chapter Text

A dull throbbing pain pierced through his skull, and he shook his head slightly as if that would make it disappear. It was more of an annoyance than something that actually hurt. Like when your foot falls asleep and you try to walk on it. 

Tim pondered this for several minutes before the realization that he was lying down came to him. As this realization dawned on him, all of his other senses seemed to come back as well. He smelled antiseptic and the familiar, yet distinct scent of gunpowder. It unfortunately wasn’t the least bit alarming. He heard a clink of metal on concrete and a beep of… a heart rate monitor?

That was when he gained the sense to open his eyes, only to be bombarded by light, and he squeezed them back shut. He waited a moment before attempting to open them again, only this time he did it slower.

The world faded into focus, and he narrowed his eyes on the source of the beeping next to him, abruptly sitting up in the process. In sharp pain shot through his abdomen, prompting a small wince. 

“Woah! Calm down, you just got fear gassed. Take it easy.” 

Tim’s head shot to meet… Jason’s eyes? That was not a person he would expect to be waiting by his side. Tim supposed that they were close in some ways during this time, but he would have thought Jason had better things to do than sit here while he was unconscious. Tim is starting to think he remembers less about this time than he thought. 

“Jason? What-” The memories of what went down, however long ago it was, suddenly hit Tim like a bag of bricks, “What happened after I went down?” 

Tim, in that moment, also made sure to glance down and check that he was, in fact, still wearing his Red Robin suit. So he hadn’t been down that long, but more importantly, no one saw the inexplicable current state of his forearms. He would need to be more careful about that. 

Jason sighed and stood to come closer to Tim, picking up and holstering the gun he was cleaning. 

That's where the clink came from. 

“B showed up right after I found you.” Jason looked somewhat annoyed yet also donned another emotion on his face that Tim couldn’t pinpoint. “He looked pretty pissed. How you managed to get him to actually show a fucking emotion is beyond me.” Jason smiled slightly to himself before dropping it immediately and focusing directly on Tim, “I just- I wanted- Fuck. Look, I’m sorry I wouldn’t listen to you when you were talking about Crain.” Now Jason just looked downright uncomfortable. It made Tim crack a smile. 

“Did you just apologize to me?” 

“Fuck off dipshit, next time I'll leave you to fight all those people by yourself. You're welcome by the way. For me saving your ass.” Jason was back on the defensive again.

“I told you I had it handled.” Jason’s glare grew his amusement.

“Like hell you did. Whatever, they’re gonna want to know you’re awake.” Jason began to turn away and make his exit from the room.

Tim then realized how screwed he was. Not only did he turn off his Comm in the middle of a patrol, but he somehow had made fear toxin antidote the same night Crain spontaneously attacked. “Wait, no, you don't need to do that, actually.” Tim tore the thin sheet off himself and started to get off the bed, as Jason, unfortunately, didn’t halt his leave.

There was a deep chuckle at Tim’s obviously panicked voice, “Oh, I am so going to enjoy this.” Jason was out of sight.

Tim looked around frantically. Maybe he should just hide under the bed or try and run out to his motorcycle and escape the coming storm for a while. 

His ridiculous escape plans were cut short by a figure in the doorway.

“Bruce! Hey… uh I’m feeling all better, so I’m just going to go work on some stuff.” Tim slowly approached him, only to be disappointed as Bruce held his position in the doorway, Tim’s only way out. “Look before you get mad-”

“Are you okay?” The question shocked Tim into stillness. 

“What?” 

“Fear gas can take a lot out of you, so are you okay?” 

Tim stared up at Bruce, mouth slightly agape, and noticed how his face did not hold any of the anger Jason had described earlier. “I-yeah.” Tim kept scanning his face for some break in the façade. There was worry and disappointment but no anger. 

“Good, that’s good.” Bruce nodded to himself before sighing, “Tim, what were you thinking?” There was the anger Tim had been counting on. “Never, in all the years you’ve been patrolling, have you done something so blatantly stupid.” He took a step into the room, and Tim took one back. “Turning off your Comm? I thought you understood how important communication between us out there is.”

“Like you're one to talk about communication…”

“Tim,” Bruce held up a hand, and before he could stop himself, he flinched back the slightest bit. 

Damn it

Bruce took a step back, “Tim?” His voice was softer this time. It pissed him off immensely and he felt the panic flood through him.

“I’m sorry, okay? I know it was stupid and it’ll never happen again, and I know that I know better!” His words sped up, “But no one died, no civilians were harmed, and the situation was handled!” Bruce opened his mouth to say something, but Tim beat him to it, “I get it, the Comm stays in from now on. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go shower and sleep!” Tim somehow had maneuvered around him and slipped out the door as Bruce seemed to stand there in silence, and Tim rather quickly made his way far down the hall. 

…

Tim stood before the refrigerator, 30 minutes after his conversation with Bruce, showered, in new clothes, and with a freshly wrapped torso. It was definitely not easy to wrap all the way around on his own with a surprisingly only bruised rib, but it’s not as though he could have asked. 

In all the excitement of time travel and saving everyone’s asses Tim had found he couldn’t remember the last time he’s eaten. In the future, it had been a day or so, but he assumed the hunger didn't time travel with him. Still, he had barely eaten the dinner from last night, and as the sun came up over the horizon out his bedroom window, Tim had taken it upon himself to come down to rummage around in the fridge.

“Ahem.” A voice cleared from behind him, and he turned to face it. “Master Timothy, why might I ask, are you scouring around in the kitchen at such an early hour, when you should be resting? I understand you had a rough night.” Alfred raised an eyebrow in question, and Tim felt like a kid caught with his hand in a Cookie jar. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Alfred’s eyebrow somehow went higher, “and I was just hungry.”

“Yes, well, you could have come to find me so you could have something of sustenance after a long night. Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll whip something up?” 

Tim immediately backed up from the fridge and plopped into one of the seats at the table as he got started. He had missed Alfred's cooking almost as much as he missed Alfred, and he was not about to give up a chance to have something he made. 

Tim watched Alfred expertly move around the kitchen, whipping out pans and pulling things from the fridge. Tim probably would have just eaten a piece of bread or whatever he got his hands on first. This was much better. 

They existed in comfortable silence for several minutes before the bubble was broken.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” Alfred did not turn to look at him and continued his work. 

Tim was unsure which thing he was referencing, so he did not immediately respond.

“If you do not care to say anything, that is fine, but I will.” That tone made Tim curl in on himself ever so slightly. “What you did tonight was reckless and so unlike you. I’m not sure what prompted this sudden change in behavior, but whatever it is, I hope you know,” his voice softened slightly, “you are always welcome to talk to me or anyone in this family about it. And I do hope you are not mad at Master Bruce for long. He had perfect reason to react in whichever way he did.”

So Alfred had not heard about his earlier conversation with Bruce. That made him relax a little. Everything was always so much calmer around Alfred. 

“I know,” he sighed. He should probably give someone some sort of explanation for last night. “I just got so angry. It felt like everyone was butting in on my patrol when I had it under control, and I-I overreacted. I’m sorry.” It was a lot easier to have this conversation when the person was not looking at you, but Tim did not enjoy not being able to search Alfred’s face for confirmation that his excuse was enough. So, he just had to hope.

“Yes, of course. You are 17 now, and I understand wanting more freedom, but what you do… what you all do, you need each other, and if you cut each other out, then the danger increases tenfold. You cannot do that again, no matter how you feel about it. Yes?” 

That was so much easier than Tim expected, but he appreciated the long-missed advice from the old butler. “Yeah, I won’t, thanks.”

Alfred took that as his cue to turn around and place a delicious-smelling omelet in front of him with a satisfied smile on his face. “Good, I’m glad we are in agreement, and I hope we are also in agreement that you will be taking the next few days off due to your injury.”

…

“Where’s Tim?” Dick appeared around the corner of the same room Tim just left.

Bruce had sat down in the chair next to the bed where Tim should be right now. He couldn’t yet bring himself to leave the room. 

His son had flinched. It was small. Most people wouldn’t have taken note of it. He was not most people. Bruce felt like the whole world was crashing down. How could he have missed this? Tim has been living with them for years, yet this is the first time something like this has happened. He knew Tim’s parents were neglectful and awful to him. But he never thought that they…

It just didn’t add up. The abruptness of it was what kept lingering on Bruce’s mind. They had fights before, so why did he never react like that? And why did he never say anything about this before? Was he really that hard to talk to? All his parenting failures seemed to become extremely prevalent to him. He was trying to be better. He really was, but it seemed it still wasn’t enough for his son to feel like he could talk to him. 

“Bruce?” He then remembered that his other son, his first baby, was waiting for an answer.

Bruce shook his head, “How could I have failed him so badly?” Perhaps Dick could give him some explanation.

“I’m not here to give your parenting any good remarks, but this was not your fault, B. Tim knows not to take out his Comm in the middle of a patrol. I don’t know why he would do something like that, but you can’t blame yourself.” 

Bruce smiled slightly at Dick’s warm remarks. He was so proud his son had turned out so amazing. 

“No,” he sighed, “I know, but that’s not it.” He had to find the strength to say the next words aloud. As if uttering them made them that much more real. “He flinched, Dick. Someone, his parents, I don’t know? They hurt him and he flinched.”

Dick went utterly still as Bruce scanned his face. Some might have questioned whether the reaction was due to just the fact that they were fighting, or the stress of the fear gas, but no, Dick knew Bruce would be able to deduce the reasoning. Dick understood that Bruce was right about this. He wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise. 

“Oh God,” Dick looked almost panicky. “Why wouldn’t he tell us? How could we have never noticed something like this before? I-I don't understand.” Dick seemed to have the same reaction as Bruce before realization dawned on his face.

“Dick, what is it?” He stood up at the sudden change in demeanor.

“You were dead, Bruce.” 

“Yes, how is that relevant?”

Dick began to pace around the room half talking to himself, “You were dead and he was gone. There is a year where we don’t know where he was. I thought he was just searching for you, but he won’t talk about it. What if- what if this is why? Oh no, he left because I gave Damian Robin, and then I didn’t believe him when he said you were alive. No, this is all my fault, how could I-”

Bruce gripped his shoulder to get him to stop pacing and talking, “Chum, this isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known.” 

Bruce pulled Dick into him and his affection-loving son happily replied by wrapping his arms around him. Even though Dick was several feet taller than he used to be, the hug still felt as right as when he was four feet tall and swinging from chandleries. 

At how easily Dick melted into the hug and gripped onto him, Bruce was reminded just how sparingly he hugged his kids. What was with today and realizing all his parenting failures? 

Dick pulled back and ran his hands through his hair. He was still obviously alarmed but not panicking as much anymore. “What are we going to do?”

That was the question that they needed to answer soon. “I don’t know. He ran off after it happened, and I’m certain he’ll find some way the avoid me for a while. After you get back from Blüdhaven next week, we can find some way to ask about the past year.”

“What no! I can’t leave now. Not when something like this is happening.”

“Dick, Tim is not going to want to talk for a while. We need to give him a couple of days to cool down. There is nothing more you can do here. I’ll keep an eye on him till you get back.”

Dick looked at Bruce and something he saw made him nod his head in agreement. “Yeah okay, just keep me updated, and when I get back I’m not leaving till there is some sort of explanation!”

“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.” They both began to make their way out of the room. “Oh, and you might not want to tell Jason. We both know his reaction to something like this would be less than calm. I’m sure he’ll find out eventually, but we don’t need him reacting before we can talk with Tim.”

Dick nodded in agreement and if Bruce knew one thing after today it was that he was going to make whoever hurt his son, hurt a thousand times worse.  

Chapter Text

Tim spent the next three days avoiding Bruce and, well, really everyone. Dick had gone back to Blüdhaven, which made it easier. If Bruce was going to tell anyone about what happened it would be Dick.

Tim threw himself into figuring out the whole Wayne Industries presentation thing. Thankfully, his past/current self had already completed it. All he needed was a refresher on the content, and he presented the content to the board rather successfully this morning. 

Turns out, his guess of the presentation taking place today worked out great. He was spot on. Maybe his past self had just compelled him to pick Wednesday when getting questioned by Bruce. Or he was just really lucky. He was lucky a lot of the time lately. It was a welcome change of pace. Old him just really has it easy, he supposed. Bruce hadn't even approached Tim in the last few days. Sure, Tim made a point to avoid eye contact and being in the same room with him, but still, he expected confrontation. Maybe Tim’s luck would continue, and this whole thing would blow over, and Bruce would just forget the whole thing. After all, a flinch could mean any number of things.

That was another thing that was bothering Tim. Why did he flinch? He was trained in hiding his emotions, and things like that were not supposed to happen. After Bruce got back from the time stream last time, Tim was working on getting rid of whatever was left over inside him that made him want to crawl into a dark room and hide anytime someone raised their voice or a hand. After a few years, the instinct was nothing but a voice left in the back of his head. 

So, maybe he was just out of practice. This body was not yet trained to resist those things, as he had been in the future. He would need to work on that and hope this slip-up didn’t result in any unwanted questions. 

Still, the stress of it was getting to him, which was how he ended up in the cave, taking out his frustration on an unsuspecting dummy. This smaller body messed up the way he was used to fighting, so he was working with his Bo-staff. Getting all the angles right and knowing when to twist and turn to compensate for less mass. 

In the future, he had adorned a lot more knives. More than he thinks, this Bruce would appreciate. In the last few weeks in the future, he even carried a gun on his lower back. Things got bad in Gotham. Really bad. And Bruce wasn’t around to scold him, so a lot of old rules went out the window. 

He admits he had gotten used to the knives, the gun he could live without, but he should probably add some more to this suit. He'd gotten pretty good with them, too. Still, the Bo-staff was his weapon, and he would not soon get rid of it.

The sweat from spending the last three hours down here uncomfortably trickled down his back. His heart was fast, and he breathed harder than he’d like. Another consequence of being in the past. In the future, he was used to working out for hours, till he couldn’t stand, and he would fall asleep in the cave alone. It was necessary to up his endurance the more their numbers thinned. Another hour of practice was added each time the burden got heavier. He would need to work this body back up to what it used to be, or what it will be. 

A ding from the computer had him pausing his next attack. 

He walked over to see that the scan he was running had finished. He was looking for any more context on what time he was in. Unfortunately, the Scarecrow incident didn’t make him fully remember everything. So he was familiarizing himself with the statuses of all the heroes and villains, who is alive, who is dead, and all the ongoing cases. He was not going to be caught unprepared. 

He downloaded all of the info onto a drive and pocketed it. He'd look over it later. For now, he needed to continue to train. It was the last night Alfred benched him, and he'd be back in the field tomorrow, so he needed to be ready. By the time he was done, he had to crawl up the last flight of stairs to his room and passed out next to his bed. 

…

He smiled as Alfred gave the all clear for him to go out on patrol tonight. 

“Don’t get too smug. You still need to take it easy tonight, Master Tim.” Alfred raised an eyebrow at him.

Tim sighed, “Yeah, I know, I will.” He had already begun leaving to get his suit on and heard Alfred mutter in disapproval behind him. 

When he came back to the main room in the Batcave, he was, unfortunately, met with the stoic face of Bruce looking right at him. 

They hadn’t spoken in days, and Tim did not want to do this right now, but Bruce wasn't walking away like he did the past few days. His heart skipped a beat.

“Since this is your first day back after Scarecrow,” Tim didn’t react, “and your injured, you are not going to patrol alone tonight.”

Alarm flared through him. He could not focus if he had to stick to Bruce’s side all night. And since when did he control what Tim did on his patrols? An anger seemed to accompany that alarm, but before he could protest, Bruce continued.

“You patrol with Damian tonight.”

“What!” He and Damian spoke at the same time, as Damian perked up from the Batchair where he was working. 

“You can’t go alone, Dick’s in Blüdhaven, and I don’t want you in Crime Alley while injured so you can’t go with Jason.” He didn’t bother to give a reason why Tim couldn't go with him. “You also need to do more patrols together. It is important we all know each other's fighting styles well and can work together efficiently.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving a stunned Tim in his wake. 

Damian spun toward him in his chair and stood up, a scowl prevalent on his face. Tim faced him as well, and they looked at each other for a moment. 

Tim thought of their last words to each other, thought of all the times they fought over pointless things, thought of how Jason had died trying to save Damian. He would not make the same mistakes as last time, and he would not take this time with his family for granted. 

But he also knew he had to proceed with caution. He couldn't immediately jump to being the world's best brothers with him. He had to be patient. Reach out a brotherly hand, and hope Damian eventually took it.

“Ready to go?” Tim asked with as little emotion as he could without sounding cold.

Damian narrowed his eyes and seemed to scan Tim over. “Don’t get in my way tonight, Drake.” He walked toward the bikes without another glance.

…

The night was going as smoothly as a patrol with Damian could go. They were glares, and they hardly worked together smoothly, but there was also no knife throwing, and the insults were kept to a minimum. Tim tried not to retaliate at all. 

They had taken down several muggers and saved two cats from trees, now they were waiting on some random high rooftop, peering out at the city. It was a quiet night so far, but he was not going to jinx it, though he was peckish for a little action. 

His gaze wandered to Damian next to him. This is a great moment to attempt to build this bridge between them. He had no idea how to start.

So, anything new going on lately?” Really Tim? 

Damian turned to glare at him. “What is your game, Drake? You have been weird all night. It is suspicious.”

Tim felt a flare of hurt go through him at the idea of him being nice to Damian is “suspicious”, but things between them have never warranted either of them to act, well, civil with each other, let alone nice. 

“What, so now asking about your life is a crime? I don’t have a game, I was just trying to fill the silence.” He sounded a little more defensive than he intended. 

“The silence does not need to be filled. And why should I not be alarmed? You never ask those things. We never ask those things. You have been odd all week. Are you losing your mind or something?” 

Tim let out a little scoff, “Wha- no! I am not losing my mind! Just… never mind,” he turned back to looking out at the city. Mission failed. He tried not to sulk.

The silence continued. He heard no sounds from Damian and assumed he had gone back to peering out from his side of the roof. 

“I was nominated for an art show.” Damian's emotionless voice sounded from behind him.

“What?” Tim turned around and found Damian was in fact peering out from his side of the roof, not looking at him.

“You asked. That is my answer.” 

That was unexpected. Maybe the mission was not yet a failure. He tried not to get too excited and ruin the moment. 

He turned back away from Damian and took a silent, deep breath. 

He took another risk, but things were going well so far, “What was it of?”

He expected more silence, so when it was replaced with his voice again, the shock grew.

“Alfred the Cat,” Tim did not let himself laugh for fear that Damian would take it the wrong way. 

“Oh, good choice.” He didn’t really know what to say.

“I am aware.”

“Right… and when’s the show?”

There was a beat of silence. Tim thought maybe he had pushed too far.

“Next Friday.” Still, Damian did not let a hint of emotion come through his words. Some would read it as him being cold and uninterested in the conversation, but Tim knew that if Damian was really disinterested, then they would not be having a conversation at all.

Tim’s gaze continued to scan the horizon. “Are you inviting anyone?”

“Why would I invite someone?” 

Tim remembered that Damian is not from here, and he probably didn't know how art shows traditionally worked.  

“Oh, well, usually people invite someone, like family or friends, when they have something like an art show.”

More silence, “Who would want to come to see my art?” The first emotion of the conversation came through, and unfortunately, it was disbelief. 

Tim’s heart hurt a little at that. Did he really think no one would want to see his art? Tim spoke without thinking, “I would-” shit-, “or I mean I’m sure Bruce wants too see your art. Does he even know you're in this competition?” Tim scrambled out the last words.

“Why…” Tim did not know Damian to hesitate, “No, I have not told him.”

“You should, he’ll want to know.” 

He heard Damian's intake of breath, but before he could respond, gunshots sounded from his side of the city, and they both did not hesitate to put an end to the conversation and leap into action.

…

The rest of the night had gone well. They did not get a chance to finish their conversation, but the glares had ceased for the rest of the night. It was more progress than Tim had ever thought he'd get so soon. 

They both pulled into the cave on their separate bikes, and Damian wasted no time before heading to the showers. Tim figured he would write the report before he got done. He wasn’t going to push his chances and talk to him anymore tonight. 

Before he could even reach the computer to get started, the rumble of the Batmobile sounded through the cave. Tim sighed as he plopped down into the seat, hoping that if he ignored him, then he would do the same back.

Footsteps sounded behind him. Bruce wanted him to hear him. Tim made a note of that.

“How did it go?” He surprisingly was not using his Batman voice, as he usually did after patrol.

“Fine. No maiming.” The details of the night were Tim’s and Tim’s alone. Bruce didn’t need to know about the unexpected conversation between the two people who usually hated each other. And it was up to Damian whether he shared the info about the art show with Bruce. He wasn’t going to break the small modicum of trust he had gotten just hours after he got it. 

He received a grunt in response. A minute passed with nothing else, and Tim was about to go back to writing the report when- “Tim, I-”

Tim was not interested in having this conversation right now. “If you don’t believe me, ask Damian! It was a perfectly normal night with no homicidal tendencies.”

“I believe you, I just-”

Tim was making a habit of interrupting him. “Great, then I am going to hit the showers. Been a long night.” Tim slipped out of the chair and made his way to the stairs. The report could wait, and he’d just shower in his room. He could not stand to be around people any longer.

His hurried footsteps got him out of the cave before Bruce could stop him. To his relief, he did not follow.

…

The next day, he was successful in his avoidance of Bruce. However, he was not happy to hear, from Alfred, that he did not want him to patrol two nights in a row. It was just a bruised rib. They were blowing this way out of proportion. 

Nevertheless, he could spend the night training instead, so he could at least do something productive. 

He waited until they had left for patrol and spent the next few hours working till his legs gave out. His rib hurt more than he’d like, and he was still getting tired quicker than he should. It only aggravated him more. 

He worked with the new knives he was adding to the suit and was delighted to find that the smaller body and time difference had no effect on his skills with them. His remembrance was enough. He did not know how he would explain his new proficiency with knives, but he could just chalk it up to the year away, even though he did not actually get this good until four years from now. 

He could not waste the asset though. If he was to save the family, then he needed to use every skill he had and train himself to be better than he has ever been, or will ever be. 

He finished with his training for the night and noticed that it was earlier than he thought. They would get back soon and he did not doubt that Bruce would not be happy to know he spent his night of “rest” training, and Dick should be coming back with them as he usually met up during Friday night patrol. Dick would not likely be happy with it either. 

So he went up the stairs as fast as he could in the state he was in and got to showering. He was actually able to stay awake in the shower this time. He did not go hard enough tonight, then. The only way to be how he used to be was to push himself to that point. 

This weakness he was unaccustomed to was getting on his nerves. He missed being able to fight for hours all night and still have energy to work cases. He also missed being as big as the guys he was taking down. He wasn't actually that much smaller than he used to be, and he will never be as big as Jason or Bruce, but it was still better than this. 

He walked out of his bathroom with his sights set on his bed, when a small slip of white in the corner of his gaze caught his eye. 

Someone slipped an envelope under the door. Despite his exhaustion, curiosity took over him and he picked it up. 

There was nothing written on the outside. Tim opened the door and gazed around. No one was there.

He tore open the top and opened the slip of paper. A small card fell out, and he read as he picked it up.

“Timothy, 

Since you were so interested in the Art show, I thought I would extend that invitation you were talking about. I apologize if I misinterpreted. The information is on the card.

-Damian”

Tim smiled.

Chapter Text

His body ached all over. Even moving an inch shot pain through his ribs, spine, and torso. He did not let this stop him. The Demon Head stood in front of him, or rather above him.

Tim knelt on the ground, cradling the new blow to his side. He bore no weapon, and Ra's al Ghul held a long wooden staff. He stood no chance. Tim was starting to think that was the point. 

Tim launched up for another attack and was swiftly knocked down. This was hour five- no six. He had not left this training mat once. He got a few hits in at the beginning. Nothing vital or detrimental. Nothing that mattered in the long run. 

This exercise stopped being training hours ago. This was a punishment. For what? Tim did not know. Or maybe Ra’s just felt like hitting something today. Tim understood that. He did not understand why they were still going, but he would not stop till he was given leave. Or it would be worse next time.

Tim dragged his broken and bruised body back up from the floor. Anything seemingly permanent could be healed with the pit.

This was necessary the get the resources he needed to find Bruce. He was still alive, and Tim would endure if it meant finding him. 

He tried a different approach this time and sharply swerved to the left and led the attack with his feet. He lasted a few more seconds than the last one before being hit back to the ground. He felt that one reverberate through his bones, and a sharp, painful gasp escaped him. Something was definitely broken. A lot of things.

“Sloppy,” Ra’s sharp voice cut through his concerns. “Get up.”

Tim didn’t hesitate to prepare for his next attack. 

He was on the floor a second later. 

“You come to me asking for help, and this is what you can give me?” Another blow to his left side as Tim began to pick himself up. Darkness closed on the edge of his vision. “Useless.”

Tim tried to take his focus away from the encroaching darkness and focus on the man in front of him. He could not pass out now. He lifted his body back up and stood up fully. It took every trick he knew about controlling facial expressions not to show the pain that engulfed him as he straightened his spine. 

He launched another attack.

Tim shot up in bed, his breath was quick, and he felt cold sweat on his forehead. 

What the fuck? 

He hadn’t had a dream like that since… well, since around right now. This was an unexpected side effect of time travel, apparently.  

Tim peeled the covers off and stood from the bed. He had no interest in going back to sleep after that, no matter how tired he was. Plus, he could see the sun peeking in through the window, and he looked at the clock on his nightstand: 5:54 am. The sun was coming up already, so he might as well get an early start. 

He washed his face in the bathroom, then made his way downstairs to the kitchen for a much-needed cup of coffee and to get started on that patrol report he so swiftly avoided last night.  

He was stopped in his tracks at the sight of Dick, in his Nightwing suit, eating Lucky Charms at the kitchen table. The sight made him huff out a laugh. If he’d brought down his phone instead of his computer, he would not have hesitated to capture it on camera.

Dick’s head shot up to meet Tim’s eyes. “What are you laughing at?” He sounded genuinely offended. 

Tim made his way into the kitchen and started a pot. “You look ridiculous.”

“I do not!” 

Tim didn’t stop the laugh that came out that time, “Sure. Hey, what’s Alfred going to say if he sees you not only wearing a suit in the house without a mask, but also eating sugar for breakfast?”

Dick smiled, “It’s not breakfast, it’s a late night snack.”

“It’s nearly 6:00 am.”

“Yeah, and no one in their right mind would get up this early, so it's just late at night.”

Tim just rolled his eyes and powered up his computer.

“What are you doing up then?”

Tim stayed impassive, “Just had some work to get done. Thought I’d get an early start.”

“You cannot work at 6 am on a Saturday. I would be a horrible brother if I let you do that.” Dick reached out a hand to shut Tim’s computer and he moved to computer away while shooting Dick a look. “Come on. Weren't we going to do something together this weekend?”

“We still can. Just let me finish this; it's important.” 

Dick let out a dramatic huff. “Work on a Saturday…” he muttered disapprovingly.

Tim would never finish, let alone get started on the report if he was fighting Dick on this the whole time. “What are we doing then?” Tim offered as a change of pace.

Dick perked up, “I don't know. We haven't gone to the movies in a while, or we could go to the park?”

“Dick, I’m not nine.”

He frowned and nodded, “Yeah, I know, the park isn’t reserved just for nine-year-old's, by the way. But we could do something else.” He seemed to think for a moment, “We could just hang out and talk then?”

Tim looked up from his computer. “Talk?” 

“Yeah, Talk.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “Talk about what?”

“You know, things you talk with your brothers about. Work. School. Any issues or problems you've been having lately…”

“Are we not talking about work right now? And- hey, what do you mean issues?”

“No, no, just you know you can tell me things right?” His tone got softer. Tim did not like it. “Like if something happened, you could tell me. Or you know it doesn’t have to be me. You could talk to Bruce or even Jason. Alfred is always a good choice. I think that Damian would list-”

“Dick!” Tim's attention was fully away from the computer now. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

Dick didn’t know about the time stuff right? No, he couldn’t have. It’s not possible. If they found out about that he would be so screwed. They might even try to make him go back or tell him not to change the future, and he could not let that happen. But there is no way he knows. This is something else. The scars, maybe? That might be just as bad as the time thing. There are very few excuses for something like that. But he didn’t think that anyone saw them. Which means there is only one thing left that this could be about. 

“Look, I don’t know what happened when you were searching for Bruce, but you need to talk to someone about…”

Dick’s voice faded out, and the image of him blurred. Tim put a hand to his head and tried to shake some odd feeling away. It suddenly felt like the world was turning one way, and Tim was turning the other. His ears started ringing, and he stood up out of his chair and stumbled back. 

He no longer remembered what was happening. He knew he was talking to Dick at some point, but all he could think about was not falling over.

He sucked in a breath as his vision suddenly cleared. 

“No. What is this?” He gasped the words out. Dick was there. His body was there. As it was that last night.

His surroundings came into focus then, too. The sound of gunfire and the rubble from buildings hitting the ground as bombs went off surrounded him. The stars twinkled above a decimated Gotham, and Dick lying on the ground as blood pooled around his head. He was back at that night.  

Tim fell to his knees next to his big brother's body and struggled for breath in between the sobs he couldn't recall starting. All he knew was he was here again. At the end of his family. Dick was all he had left. He was completely alone.

Tim reached out to grab his brother, mentor, and friend's corpse when that awful twisting feeling came back to him. 

“Tim?”

The world was swirling, and Tim was again going the other way. He felt all sorts of wrong as the world around him turned fuzzy. 

“Tim!”

The sound of the city dying faded next and was replaced by the ringing. Tim reached out to grab onto anything. He was shocked when he felt himself grasp something.

“Tim!” 

His eyes focused once more, and the world came into view. 

It was Dick again. He almost started screaming at the idea of seeing his dead body again, but was halted at the sight of his chest expanding. Then he noticed his eyes were frantically searching Tim, and his lips were moving, though he heard no sound over the ringing in his ears. 

Tim didn’t care what he was saying, though. Dick was here in front of him. He launched himself at Dick and desperately wrapped his arms around him, holding as tightly as he could, just in case he slipped away again. 

“I’m sorry. Please don’t go again.” He pleaded the words into Dick’s shoulder as he felt his arms coming around him to return the hug, holding almost as tightly as he was.

The ringing was fading away now and he heard Dick again. It made this feel even more real. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” The confusion in his voice muddled his attempts at sounding comforting, “I promise.” Tim just held on tighter.

For a long time Dick just let Tim grasp into him. They were both on the floor, and it was hardly comfortable, but Tim didn’t care. He couldn’t feel anything except the constant fear that he would let go and Dick would be dead again. He would be alone again. 

Tim knew he had him failed that night. When the city was attacked, they were the only ones left in Gotham to protect it. Both of them were still grieving. They were angry, and their fighting reflected that. Tim should have been better. They hardly used the Comms to communicate the situation with each other, and the plan was messy and not fully thought out. It cost Dick his life. Tim’s recklessness cost him so much that night. He should have fought harder for Dick. He should have saved him. He should have saved all of them. He would this time. The future he was from would never come to pass.

He repeated the sentiment to himself again as his breathing calmed down and the tears stopped coming. Determination was rising to replace the agony he was in. Tim was reassured that he made the right choice in coming back. His family didn’t deserve the fate they got, and he would save them no matter what it took or what he had to do to achieve it. 

The actual situation Tim was in did not fully hit him until Dick finally spoke again. 

“Tim?” Dick’s soft voice was no longer something he felt uneasy at hearing. The sound instead reminded him of the fact that his brother was alive and right here.

It also reminded him that he had no idea what had just happened.  

“Hey. It’s okay.” Dick’s grip on him loosened and as much as he just wanted to hold on tighter, Tim let go of him and backed up slightly. “Are you alright?” Dick looked just as confused as he did worried. This was not good.

“I-yeah, sorry,” Tim had to think of something and fast, “I don’t know what happened.”

“That's okay, just, uh here,” Dick stood and reached down a hand for Tim to take. He grabbed on and let him pull him up. He could have done it himself, but he was grateful for it anyway. He did feel a little shaky, actually. 

“Just sit for a minute, okay, I'll get you some water.” Tim did as he said and sat back down next to the chair, and the report that he still has not done. 

Dick was not doing the textbook stuff they usually do with people with PTSD. Tim did not think that was what this was, but he had already deduced that it was probably what this looked like. Especially considering the conversation they were having right before whatever happened happened. 

Dick actually seemed to be a bit shaken as well. His hand shook as he handed him the water and his gaze looked concerningly at Tim, as if he was a glass bubble and he would shatter at any second. Tim was not a fan of that look. He also seemed to be searching for something to say. Tim did not mind, though. It gave him a second to sip his water and stare at the wall while he thought over things. 

What just happened to him? It wasn’t like the times when he looked at his family and saw all the ways he had failed them. No, this was different. This felt so real. Nothing was muddled like a dream, and the sounds and sights truly seemed like they were all there. He had felt the weight of his Bo-staff in his hand and the familiar presence of his Red Robin mask on his face. He heard the gunshots and bombs as well as he could when it really happened and the sight of Dick- of him lying there was as real as the night it happened. The pain was as real as the first time, too.

Tim had no idea what to think, so he settled on thinking over it later. For now he had to figure out how to get Dick to not lose his mind over this.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Dick asked before Tim could voice some excuse and get away.

“It's not what you think.” Dick just raised an eyebrow. What was he supposed to say? He had a flashback of him dying in the future? He supposed the best course of action was the one that Dick thought was the truth. Give him a kernel of what happened in his time away when Bruce was dead. Or at least a version of it. “The last year was rough, I guess.” Not a great start.

“Tim,” He looked at Dick in the eye for the first time since this conversation started, “You can talk to me.”

He really could not. This conversation needed to end soon. Tim needed to punch something, and it was still not even 7 in the morning. “Look, I had to do a lot of things that you would probably not approve of to get B back. It’s over now, and I don’t know what that was about.” Tim stood, “You don’t have to worry about it. I’m fine. Don’t read into it.” That was not exactly the plan. He wasn’t doing great with following his plans lately. 

Dick stood after him, “Don’t read into it! Tim, you were terrified. Something is wrong, and you can’t keep this to yourself forever. I don’t even know where you were or who you were with for a whole year. We heard nothing from you. Not a call or a text or some sign that you were okay, and you just want me to not ‘read into it’. You can’t ask me that!”

Tim’s temper flared at that. A type of anger he had not felt in a while. Something he had thought he had long gotten over. “Are you kidding? You called me crazy and delusional for thinking B was alive! I couldn’t ask you for help or contact you. You would have tried to stop me, and we never would have gotten him back!” 

Dick reeled back at that. Regret flashed across his face. “I’m sorry about how things went down after Bruce was gone, but I still wanted to know you were okay. And obviously you were not, which is why you need to talk about this.”

Tim scoffed, “I can’t do this right now.” He grabbed the computer off the table and brushed past a stunned Dick and headed toward the exit. 

“Tim,” Dick shouted behind him, “we’re not done with this conversation!” Tim was.

He made a beeline away from the kitchen only to be stopped in the foyer by the sight of Jason looking at him quizzically. 

“Everything alright? I heard shouting.” 

Tim continues his trek to the stairs and slips past Jason, only offering a quick “yep” in response.

It wasn’t even noon, and this day was proving to be a long one.

…

Tim was already out of the kitchen before Dick could offer anymore protest. He slumped back down in the chair and let out a tired groan.

He fucked up so badly. First, when Bruce died and he screwed things up with passing on the Robin mantle, then with handling Tim’s ideas about Bruce being alive (in what world was he supposed to believe that?), and finally with whatever just happened today. He couldn’t even get Tim to stay in the same room as him to question him. What in the world had he gone through during that year to make him react like that?

Dick thought of the look of his face. It was like one second they were having a normal conversation, then the next, Tim was looking at ghosts. He looked not only afraid but like he was in pain. A lot of it, too. He didn’t seem to be hearing a word he was saying. He looked right through Dick like he wasn’t even there. For a second, Tim almost looked as if he wasn’t there, but that couldn’t be right.

And Tim just wanted him to forget about this? Dick needed to talk to Bruce. They needed to re-plan. Clearly, the sit him down and talk to him approach was not working. He was really good at just giving an excuse and slipping away. 

“Can someone tell me what’s going on already?” Dick looked up to meet… Jason’s eyes?

“What are you doing here?”

“Okay then, if you want me to go, just say so.” Jason turned.

“No! No, sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. Its-Its just been an odd morning.”

Jason let out a small laugh, “Yeah, I noticed. Ran into Tim looking like he was about to punch the next wall that looked at him wrong. The fuck is going on?” 

It was then that Dick remembered his talk with Bruce about how letting Jason know about this was probably not in their best interest for now. “Oh, just rough patrol last night.” 

“Isn’t he benched?” 

Crap, he forgot about that. “Yeah, I mean, he was upset that there was no patrol last night. But he's going back out tonight, so it'll all be good.” Dick must really be shook if that was the best he could do.

Jason seemed to pick up on that, “Mhm, right. Whatever.” Jason shrugged it off to Dick’s relief, and headed for the fridge.

Dick took the chance to change the conversation, “Not that I’m not delighted you’re here, but why are you here so early?” Jason, much to Dick’s delight, was coming around The Manor more often, but not usually during the day. 

“Alfred restocks the kitchen on Thursdays' and the cave does have the best gym in the city, so I'm utilizing my resources.”

Dick smiled, “Right, utilizing your resources. That's the only reason you're here.”

Jason scoffed, “Fuck off”

“Need a training partner?” Dick could use a good spar right now.

“Only if your ready to get your ass beat.” 

“Ha, you're gonna eat your words by the end of this.” 

Chapter Text

The events of this morning were swiftly pushed out of Tim’s mind, and he finished up that report of last night's patrol and changed into clothes suitable for his training. The report took longer than he intended because his mind kept drifting off. He could find no possible explanation for the odd… vision he had. At least he was calling it a vision for now. He just hoped that it didn’t mean anything bad. He never had issues like that mentally last time, but this felt more than that. 

The sight of Dick’s chest not moving up and down was now, once again, freshly seared into his mind, so between that and the perplexed state he's in, getting work done was proving futile. The report was already late, and Bruce was always on them about doing the report immediately to ensure the most accurate recollection, but Tim didn’t particularly care right now. He was just happy it got done.

His lack of explanation of the “Vision” is what prompted him to get the report finished, so he could go downstairs and train his frustrations away. He also needed to work on getting back his old strength, so it was a win-win. 

Unfortunately, his enthusiasm was stunted when he heard laughs and the sound of a fist hitting another person echoed through the cave as he approached the training area. Instead his frustration only grew at the sight of Dick, frankly that last person he wanted to see today. He also felt his heart squeeze a little when he saw the way breath was coming in and out of him as he fought Jason, but Tim elected to ignore that right now.

“Told you!” Dick let out a laugh as he pinned Jason to the mat. They were doing this with no weapon and only physical fighting, which was Dick specialty. Get in a gun fight, or need to take over a gang, then Jason was the guy to call. Sure Jason was no armature level fighter, but Dick was just on another level.

Tim might have agreed that that statement applied to him as well, and Dick would be able to take him down easily, and maybe without his old, more trained body Dick would win that fight. Still, Tim is technically about the same age as Dick mentally right now and he knew a thing or too more than he should. 

Tim was pulled out of his thoughts by the sounds of them continuing their fight. It looked a little off to Tim. The way they softened the punch at the last second, or didn’t take a clear open shot to get ahead of the other. It looked like they were almost… going easy on each other? Tim knew that they didn’t spar with each other with the ferocity one might fight the Joker, but still, this was not what he was used to. 

In his time, as Gotham got more dangerous, Bruce had made them work harder in training, but he didn’t think it was that different from how they had sparred now. 

There was also the training he did with Ra’s and Lady Shiva that was definitely different from how they trained here. Though, since other old memories seem to be fresher since he's been in this body, maybe it only looks off because he had just finished training with them. Which proposed another issue of not letting anyone find out about his time away… again. He was getting really sick of doing all of this again, only unprepared this time. Tim would just have to wait and find out why exactly this, “fighting,” looked so off to him.

He decided the best way to avoid unsavory conversation was to just slip by them while they were focused on each other. Unfortunately, Tim's luck was not on his side that day. 

“Tim,” Dick said sounding surprised as they both finished the match.

“Dick,” Tim nodded his head in acknowledgment and he headed for the other side of the room to start stretching.

The silence after the interaction lasted several more moments as Tim felt Dicks eyes on him as he got ready to start. Tim was preferring the awkwardness of it until it was so rudely interrupted. 

“What, so I'm just chopped liver then? No passive-aggressive greeting for me?” 

Tim let out an audible sigh and began his workout. He could still feel Dick glancing at him as he turned to Jason and whispered something. Tim wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what he said. 

“How bout a spar, Timberlyn?” Tim turned to give Jason an odd look only to see Dick already looking at Jason incredulously. 

For some reason, that look made Tim throw his idea of keeping his new fighting skills to himself right out the window in the spirit of spite. So much for genius levels to rival Batman. 

“Okay,” Jason smiled.

Dick seemed to take a second to process the words, then he proceed to jump in to action, “Wait are you sure that's a good idea?”

Why was Dick acting like he was made out of glass. They did this all the time, and no odd, inexplicable vision was going to make him suddenly incapable. He did not need Dick babying him.

“Why would it not be, Dick?” Tim looked right at him and tilted his head. In his mind, he tried his best to use the stare his mother used when she didn’t like the way a deal was going and needed the other person to back down. He hoped he looked half as terrifying. 

“No, just you're still injured is all.” Nice save, Dick.

“I’m cleared for patrol tonight, so as far as I'm concerned, I'm completely healed.”

Jason was looking between the two of them, obviously out of the loop and looking confused. 

“Yea,” Dick was clearly trying to find something else to say that could stop this from happening, but then seemed to give in. “Just take it easy, that's all.’’

“Ha, Tim will need me to take it easy on him for him to last ten seconds.” Jason approached the mat, thankfully breaking the tension.

Tim seized the opportunity and walked up to meet him near the middle, “We’ll see. Hand-to-hand?”

Jason nodded and backed up so they could begin. “Call it for us, Dick.”

Tim hadn’t fought another person in a few weeks. He didn’t feel rusty, though. He had been buzzing for a fight for a while now. He wasn’t thrilled it was Jason, but hugging him instead for five minutes straight, like he wanted to do whenever he remembered that one of them was alive, would probably be alarming. So, he settled for this as his way of spending some time with him. 

“Begin.” Dick apprehensively called from the side of the mat.

Tim paid no mind to him as he dove out of the way of Jason’s immediate lunge at him. He always did have a more direct approach to fighting.  

Tim wasted no time in spinning around and ducking under the fist flying at his face. Jason continued on the offensive and threw out another few kicks and hits, not landing any. Tim was good at dodging though, and Jason most certainly knew what he was doing. He couldn’t keep dodging forever. 

Tim dodged another and, when he was low, threw out a kick, which he hadn't previously done. It caught Jason off guard, and he stumbled. It allowed Tim to do a flip and a high kick combo he had been working on lately. 

Jason, however, did not waste time either as he got back off the ground and went for a waist-high attack. He had the upper hand starting from a weak area, and Tim knew if he didn’t do something that he would get taken down as there was no time to dive out of the way. 

This is where things went wrong, and Tim knew this as it was happening. Tim knew the exact counterattack for this, and he also knew that it was a very high-level move that displayed a fighting technique Bruce didn’t use. Unfortunately, as he saw the attack coming, the part of his brain that he turned on whenever he was training with people who were not his family took over, and he lost all control. 

So, Tim had no time to stop himself as he made a turn and grabbed Jason's shoulder, flipping him over himself onto the ground, far harder than one should have performed the move in these circumstances.

“Fuck.” Jason grunted from the ground.

It was then that Tim’s mind caught up to his body. Shit. “You good?” Tim reached out a hand despite his body telling him not to go near the enemy or show weakness in battle.

Tim was hoping his tone made it seem like it was an accident, and he had not intended for Jason to hit the ground that hard. While he didn’t intend to use a move like that on Jason, he absolutely intended for it to be a hard hit. Tim felt the guilt wash over him at the thought. 

Jason took the hand he offered and stood up, not showing many signs that he was in pain. Tim knew he was. Tim had taken down a lot of people with that move. Most didn’t get back up.  

“Yeah, all good. Bit much for sparing there, though.” Tim controlled his facial expressions so as not to show any signs of panic.

“Tim, what was that?” He almost forgot Dick was there. 

As if the situation could not possibly get worse, when Tim turned to look at Dick he was met with the impassive gaze of Bruce staring right at him.

Tim wanted to sprint out of the room. 

“Sparing,” Tim responded, but was still looking at Bruce. 

“What? Yeah, I know it was sparing! I meant, why would you-”

“Dick chill, I’m fine,” Jason spoke up. “Also, technically, the match is still going. He never called it.” His voice was directed at Tim.

“No,” Bruce spoke up, and a shiver went down Tim’s spine. “You have patrol tonight and were just injured. No more fighting.” His eyes also never left Tim’s.

“That’s exactly what I said,” Dick whined. 

Tim narrowed his eyes at Bruce and got no reaction from it. He most certainly noticed something was off about that fighting, but for some reason didn’t address it. It was times like these that Tim was appreciative of his unique ability to read Bruce, even if he was being particularly difficult right now. 

Jason sighed from behind him, “You guys are so weird. I’m getting food now. Later.” Jason wasted no time in grabbing his water and heading toward the stairs. 

Tim wanted to shout and beg him not to abandon him to be alone with the two people he had consistently avoided lately. For someone who just killed himself to get back to these people, he sure did run away from them a lot. Right now, he did not intend to break that pattern.

“I’m actually pretty hungry myself. I think I’ll just follow him.” Tim’s masterful plan of slipping up the stairs was put to a stop when Bruce stepped in front of him. Tim looked up at him, willing that the distaste was obvious. 

“No more running away.” Tim was hoping he hadn't caught on to that. “We need to talk.” There were no worse words that could have come out of his mouth in that moment. 

“Uh, yeah, we do. I’ve been trying all morning. So much for ‘give him a couple of days to cool down.’ A lot of good that's done!” Dick complained from the side of Tim’s vision. 

What?

Bruce sighed and rubbed his head with his fingers, looking particularly miserable. “Why don't we all sit down?”

“I’m fine where I am.” Tim stood his ground.

He could actually see the headache forming when he met eyes with Bruce again. It was hilarious. “Fine, just listen for a moment.” Bruce gave him a serious look, “without running away, or interrupting, or coming up with some excuse.”

“I stand by that statement.” Dick quipped in from where he had migrated closer to Bruce.

Tim glanced between the two of them, looking down at him. They both looked unnerving serious about this. Tim had thought that he was getting good at avoiding these conversations, but it seems he was just delaying the inevitable. 

“Fine, I’ll stay. For now.” He might as well get this over with. 

Bruce took a second before beginning. It looked like he was searching Tim for an inkling that he was lying. He must have been satisfied with what he found. “That move. I never taught that to you.”

“Would you believe me if I said YouTube?” Bruce shot him a look. “Right, shutting up.”

“I know where you can learn a move like that. Based on everything I just watched, I know you know a lot more than what you're telling us.”

“Uh, I don’t. Where did he learn that move?” Dick apprehensively chimed in.

Tim looked down at the floor as if it could save him by opening up underneath him and swallow him up. The floor did not oblige.

“The shadows.” Tim met Dicks eyes as he watched the realization hit him along with Tim’s words. “It’s a league move.”

Dick seemed to be at a loss for words as he looked to Bruce like he had more of an explanation than that. Tim didn’t know why it was so shocking, though. Damian grew up there and trained with them, and Jason spent a good amount of time there. Even Bruce had spent some time there for a brief moment of his training. 

He also didn’t know why Bruce’s reaction worried him so much. He was prepared for the same anger as last time. He knew it was coming. All he had to do was wait for it to pass and a new problem to come along to distract them, so everyone could let it go. In the future, they found out some of the stuff he did in his year searching for Bruce eventually. Sure, it was in very different circumstances, but if they didn’t care in the future, why would they care now? 

Tim kept those thoughts in his head as he waited for Bruce to say something. 

“Why were you with them?” He wasn’t wasting time cutting corners, apparently. 

“I made a point of checking every nook and cranny in the world in my search.” Tim felt like that was a pretty solid excuse.

“And looking for me, included you working with the League of Assassins?”

“Well, Ra’s wasn’t just going to help me for free!” That wasn’t all he took from him.

Bruce tilted his head at that, a look flashed across his face. Tim couldn’t pinpoint the reason. It unnerved him.

“Alright.” Tim hoped that this conversation was over now. “We need to talk about what happened after patrol last week.”

Fuck.

Tim took a few steps back, and their eyes were trained on his movements. He needed to get out of here now. “You know I wasn’t lying when I said I was hungry. I never had breakfast, and Jason might get lonely.” Despite his talk of leaving, he kept backing up instead of heading for the stairs. 

He needed to work on this new trait of running away from his problems. He was supposed to be Red Robin, not a coward. But right now, he didn’t feel like Red Robin. 

“Tim,” His eyes snapped up to meet Bruce’s. “You're not in trouble, Sweetheart.” His voice was soft in a way that he hadn't heard in a long time. 

Bruce never talked to him like that anymore. The months in between Alfred, Jason, and Damian’s deaths and when he lost Bruce, he became like a ghost. It wasn’t like when he met Bruce after Jason died the first time. No, it was like when you spoke to him, the words took great effort to come out, and when he went out at night, not even Tim could help him this time. Tim wasn’t enough to pull him back from the edge anymore. He stopped talking to Barbra, Dick, and him. It was just silent anger that radiated throughout the house. Most nights, Tim spent in his safehouses because being in the manor with him felt so cold that it reminded him of when he was alone as a kid and his parents went out of town. Dick and Barbra didn’t live there so there was no one to fill the silence. It made him feel sick.

There was no consoling each other or spending time together. They only spoke on patrol, and even then, it was short and curt. They never patrolled together and were both stretched thin with the smaller numbers. Dick still worked in Blüdhaven, so Gotham was left in just their hands. It was too much on good days. 

They had ended up speaking a few times right before… They spent their last weeks together in anger. Arguing about what was best for the city. It never mattered anyway. Bruce died for the city and for the family. He knew it was the death Bruce would want. 

It was then that it hit Tim that in coming here, he erased that. He erased Bruce’s sacrifice. All of their sacrifices. Just because in the end, he was lonely. The thought felt like a knife right through his heart. He let out a slight, pained gasp.

“Tim?” Right, they were right here. They may have died heroically, but they didn’t deserve to die at all. He was here to make sure they lived a lot longer than last time. That was why he was doing this. “We just want to talk,” Dick said sounding just as soft. Why were they doing that?

“I don’t know what you mean. I did my job. I said I was sorry about the Comm thing, and it won’t happen again.”

“You don’t react like that for no reason. You can talk to us.” Dick persisted. They both seemed to ignore his excuse entirely.

“Something happened,” Bruce sounded so sure, Tim wondered what he could possibly say to make this go away.

“No!” The desperation leaked through his voice.

Bruce took a step forward, and Tim took one back. He was only making this worse. He never told Bruce about this part in the future, so he had no idea what to expect. He did not want to find out.

Bruce stopped his approach and looked back at Dick so that he couldn’t see whatever look he was giving him. Tim had his guesses.

He turned his gaze back on Tim. Tim wasn’t sure what would happen next. His family was so different than how he remembered them at this time, and the looks on both of their faces were not ones that he knew how to prepare for. 

“Okay.” Bruce held his hands up and took another step closer. Tim didn’t move that time. His body language and behavior were the same as they used with kids who were just in a situation of abuse. That did not compute. Tim had never been abused. He could admit to a bit of neglect from his parents, but this? No. 

“Okay?” He needed to know what was going on. 

“I know you don’t want to talk about this, but I can’t let this go.” 

“What are you talking about? You sure could let it go last time! I don’t know why you're acting like this. I flinched. So what? We were arguing, and I overreacted. Will you please stop being ridiculous about this?”

“Last time?” Bruce seemed taken aback by his outburst. 

He did not mean to let that slip out. 

Dick stepped up next to him, “But that wasn’t the only time.” Alarm flared through Tim and he practically begged with his eyes for Dick to shut up. “What about this morning? That wasn’t a flinch, but something was definitely wrong.”

“What happened this morning?”

Tim couldn’t decide of he was relived Bruce forgot about his slip or angry that Dick brought this morning back up. He at least had real reasons for everything else, but he never actually figured out what happened this morning. There was no way to explain it away.

He seemed to be failing at explaining all of this away. This conversation was dragging on longer than it needed to. He just needed to face the consequences and move on. For now, he could just chalk this morning up to being for the same reasons as the rest of it. 

“That is what I would like to know. Tim? Please?”

Tim looked at the floor instead of their eyes. He couldn’t watch the anger fill them. 

“I trained with Ra’s. It was hard and brutal, but I got what I needed to find you in the time stream. I don’t regret what I had to do. No one…” he struggled with words for a moment, “hurt me. Just tough training. And this morning, I was thinking back on some of my time there, that's all. I’m sorry.”

Tim waited, not moving his eyes up until he saw shoes. They were suddenly a lot closer than they had been before, and his head shot up to the figure in front of him. 

“You don’t need to be sorry. You did good , and I regret that I wasn’t here to protect you.” Bruce looked down at him.

Tim stood in shock for a moment before the words hit him. The words he never knew he needed and had never gotten before. He felt his eyes involuntarily start to water. He was barely stopping them from falling. 

“I did good?” He couldn’t even hear the way his voice sounded over the roaring in his ears. It felt like the world had turned upside down, and he had no idea what to do with it. This Bruce was so drastically different that it was sending it into a spiral. Had the years and the falling of Gotham really changed them all so much?

Bruce's lips moved, and Tim knew he said something back, but he ignored it. He just scanned his face for any hint of a façade or a lie. He looked for a bit of anger that he was suppressing or some disappointment in the methods he used to get him back. Instead, all he found was a soft smile and that same look he’s had that Tim cannot figure out. It wasn’t anger, though, and right now that is all that mattered. 

He took a step closer to test the waters, and receiving no adverse reaction from Bruce, Tim launched himself into his arm much like he did to Dick earlier this morning. 

He had hugged more people this week than in the past year. It was nicer than Tim remembered. 

Bruce reciprocated the hug nearly instantly and held on tight. Being held was also an odd feeling. 

Tim let a small sob slip out. 

Chapter Text

The next week went by quicker than Tim could keep up with. He spent his days in the cave either training or gathering research on everything he could about things that he knew would come to pass in the future, or, if he could help it, would never come to pass at all. 

The conversation with Bruce and Dick had not been brought back up again. He gave them several reassurances that he was fine when he had finally pulled himself together enough to speak, and he could tell they didn’t really believe him. They only left it alone when he promised to talk more about it later and reveal more of the missing year as time went on. 

The shock of Bruce not being angry was still lingering, but he had just accepted that he really doesn’t have an accurate memory of the people at this time. It just motivated him to focus more on keeping the future from staying the same. The people who existed at this time were so drastically different and just happier in general than the people he knew. 

He knew that Bruce and Dick were going to find ways to bring up this newly revealed information at some point and with how bad Tim’s been slipping up he expected to find someway to ruin the peace he'd been having this week. 

Tim’s week of what he thought was only going to consist of patrols, research, and training was suddenly given more meaning as he finally found something. A lead.

Cadmus.

Tim frowned at the Batcomputer. He didn’t have a patrol tonight, and he took advantage of the empty cave once again. 

It was something. Not much, but more than he had gotten all week. He was starting to think that he had gone back in time too far, since nothing that had been detrimental to the world's estranged state in six years had really taken root. Still, he knew Cadmus played a large role in the development of some of the weapons that had contributed to so much destruction in the future. When they hit the streets, the power that everyone could so easily get their hand on now made fighting for the city nearly impossible. When guns shoot lasers all of a sudden, then your bulletproof armor can’t help you much. He had no idea why a genetic engineering laboratory had been the one to make the weapons, but he intended to find out this time. 

This wasn’t the only thing that he needed to fix, but it was something. He had made a promise, and he was going to do whatever it took to keep it. 

There was a report of a forest in the outskirts of Metropolis that had burns on trees that looked strikingly familiar to the burns of the lasers in the future that he could not easily forget. It was also near known Cadmus base locations, so it added up. He would need to investigate to know if they were what he thought they were. 

The only trouble was finding an excuse to leave the city for a day or more. He couldn’t be gone too long, though. Tomorrow was Friday, and he had made plans he had no intention of missing that day.

That meant he had to leave soon. Now preferably. It was 3:27 in the morning, so no one was awake or home to stop him. 

…

The sun was beginning to shine in the distance as Tim approached Metropolis just hours after his newly discovered lead. He could have gotten here faster, but he didn’t have a good excuse to give Clark or Kon for why he was where he was, and he didn’t need anyone to attest to his whereabouts should things go wrong. Plus, he didn’t think Kon would be very happy if he knew his reason involved Cadmus.

He had drifted from him in the future. Anger and grief had been all Tim had known for the past few months. He barely saw anyone outside of Gotham. His relationship with Kon had also… changed in the future. It wasn’t what it was now, but Tim also did not entirely know what it was. He never did make up after their fight before coming to this time. 

Tim had yet to reach out to any of his friends since arriving at this time, and he was sort of putting it off. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see any of them, he just wasn't sure whether they too would be different from how he remembered. He had messes up so many of his friendship in the future as well and didn’t want to see how fast he could manage to screw it up again. He also needed to focus on his mission. He didn’t have time to worry about all of that right now. 

Tim, in his full suit, because this was enemy territory and he needed to be prepared, pulled in an off-road area, in an unmarked car, a few miles into a forest outside Metropolis. He had already scoped the area with a drone and checked for heat signatures. He found nothing, but that didn’t mean there was nothing. 

He left the car where it couldn’t be seen clearly from the main path and ventured deeper into the woods, deciding to make the last few miles of the journey on foot. Less likely to be tracked.

As the clearing he saw in his scopes of the targeted area came into view, Tim took cover behind a tree. He pulled up his wrist schematics and looked at the scans. The trees should be somewhere here, and he could get his samples and go. It was as simple as a mission could get. 

He leaned around the tree he was by and looked for the targets while also keeping an eye out for threats. If this was what he thought it was, then whoever tested the guns here could still be around. 

Not seeing any immediate threat and he stepped farther into the area. He spotted them a few yards away. 

Tim took out a small kit to take a sample of the burned tree. There were long, dark gashes across them, along with carved in “X”’s across several of them. It looked like target practice. Tim sucked in a breath. This looked even more like what he remembered now that he saw them in real life. The same burns, the same depth, and the same size of the initial prototypes that were first released. It was years too early for these to be public yet, but the design was all there. 

That thread of hope that Tim had been tugging on lately pulled again. This was a chance to make a real change to the time stream. If he could get rid of these before they ever became public knowledge, then maybe his family's fate would change, too. It would also save countless other lives. 

Tim put away his pack after getting the sample and looked over the trees one more time. Looking for any other clues he might have missed. 

Tim’s heart sped up slightly as he felt the change in the air around him. He heard the slight shift of earth as a trained footstep hit it. He didn’t display any change in demeanor or show any alarm. He continued like he hadn’t noticed a thing and continued his scan of the trees. He slipped a small dagger into his hand under the cover of his suit and waited, hoping his stalker would take the bait. 

“I know you hear me, Boy,” Tim suppressed a shiver at that voice. This was not who he expected. 

He turned around and looked at the mercenary he hoped he would never have to deal with again. He may have brought back his family, but unfortunately, that wasn’t all he brought back. 

“Deathstroke.” Tim hoped the hate was audible in the way he said the name. 

Across the clearing, dressing in his classic black and orange, donning more weapons than Tim carried at this point in time, Slade stood looking down at him. He was bigger than Tim remembered. Tim was smaller, though, and more uncoordinated than he usually was. Slade was a hard enough adversary for The Batman, and Tim had barely scraped away with his life after fights with him in the future. He was definitely at a disadvantage. 

Tim also had no idea what Slade was doing here, in the middle of a forest. The report on the marks was made over 3 months ago, and nothing like it had been reported in the area. He had no history on record with Cadmus. However, He did work for anyone who paid, and records can be wrong. 

“Why are you here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Slade took a step closer as he spoke, slow like he was taunting him. 

Tim watched his every move closely and was ready for him to launch an attack any second. “You work for Cadmus now?” Tim took slow steps to the side as he spoke, closer the the direction of his car.

Slade seemed to notice as he matched his movements. Circling each other like dogs ready to pounce. As much as he’d like to drive a knife into his heart, Tim wasn’t sure he could win that fight. 

“I work for whoever pays. Now tell me, what do you want with those trees?” So Tim was right, the records were incomplete. 

“What’s so special about them that you're worried about it?” Slade had gotten closer as he spoke, and Tim tried to keep his slight retreat subtle. 

“If you are here, then I can only assume you know.” He tilted his head at his and raised the sword in his hand to point to his heart. “And if you know, then you must die.”

Slade launched his attack and Tim threw him self out of the way, rolling softly to a landing and quickly getting back to his feet, but Slade was fast, he had already been drawing the next blow. Tim managed to activate his Bo-staff in time to block it. He had to use all the arm strength he could offer to keep the sword from striking him. 

He was just now realizing that he had no backup and couldn’t call for backup without exposing himself. If he wanted to get out of this, he would need to do it alone. No one was coming to save him. This was how he had gotten used to though. There was no backup on the long, cold nights alone in Gotham, and there would be none here.

He managed to push the blade to the side and aim a counterattack. Slade easily blocked it, and Tim dodged another one while backing up. He was not holding back here like he did at the cave. This was what all his training was for. He landed a hit to his wrist that made the sword slip out of Slade’s hand. Slade did not stumble, though, and just drew the other one.

“You are a formidable opponent.” Slade went for a lower attack this time, and Tim had to turn his body to block it. 

“Really? I wasn’t thinking the same thing.” He didn’t react to his comment and just twisted around to Tim’s other side to try to attack from the back. Before he could fully turn out of the way, the sword nicked his thigh. He barely felt or acknowledged it as he flipped back a step out of the path of the sword. 

“Your arrogance betrays you.” 

Tim flicked out a small knife at the same time that he threw all the force he could onto a blow from his Bo-staff, and managed to land the knife in the shoulder gap of Slade’s armor. It must have surprised him because the blow landed on his side. It only managed to get him to back up a single step, though. 

“Does it?” Tim hoped he sounded more confident in his success than he felt. 

 Slade kept coming at him, and Tim flung up the Bo-staff to block the hit heading right for his chest. Slade landed a hit with his non-sworded hand on Tim’s side as he pursued his attack. He stumbled from the pain, and Slade took the opening to push him to the ground. 

Before he could roll to the side to avoid whatever death-ensuing blow would come next, a sharp pain shot through his hand. His head whipped to the side to see a dagger embedded in his right hand. His dagger. Oh, if anyone heard about this, he would never hear the end of it. That is, if he lived past this. 

Before Tim could move his other hand over to rip the dagger out of his hand, and the ground below that it pinned the hand to, Slade pressed his foot into the left one. Tim didn’t let himself show any pain as he looked back up at the Mercenary.

He was completely vulnerable in this position, no way to get the upper hand with both hands out of commission and a sword skimming his throat. 

“You're different than the last we fought. Better.” Tim couldn’t see his face underneath the helmet, but by his tone, he would bet he was smiling right now. “Batman wouldn’t approve of those moves. I wonder,” the sword made a small cut at the base of his throat as he spoke, “what would he think of his little Birdie learning to kill from The Demon's Head himself?” Tim tried not to shift at the words. “Yes, I know exactly what you would use moves like that for, and it isn’t on his list of approved options now, is it?”

Tim tried to rip his arm out from underneath the boot, but it only pressed down harder. “If you're going to kill me, then do it. Quite wasting both our time.” What was he doing? He could not die right now, he had a family to save and pissing him off would not help. Apparently, Slade's words hit harder than he thought, but being read so easily always made him ticked off.

“Struck a nerve?”  Slade let out a low laugh, “I was going to kill you, but you’ve impressed me. I’d love to find out what else you're hiding. Maybe, killing you isn't the best idea yet, after all, I know some people who will be very interested in finding out how you know about all this.” He gestured to the whole clearing with his arm instead of just the trees. Tim found it notable. He was missing a piece here. Something small appeared in Slade’s hand, and he came closer to Tim’s face. He tried again to pry his hand free or use his legs to maneuver himself out of this position, but to no avail. “I’m not done with you yet, boy.” A small needle went into his neck, and the world around him faded to black. 

…

A sharp throb pulled Tim’s back to consciousness. He groaned at the feeling in his head and the fog that seemed to linger. He tried to pry his eyes open, only for the pain to attack him as the light flooded in. 

He realized then that he did not know where he was. That made him open his eyes despite the pain. He waited for them to adjust, then looked around. He was in a small room with grey walls and no windows. A small, but bright light hung from the ceiling in front of him. He could see no door, so he assumed it was behind him.

He then took notice that he was sitting in a chair, and both his arms and legs were tied to it. No amateur had tied the knots. Slade. He regained full alertness and swung his eyes around in search of him, even if it pained him.

He’s been captured, and no one has any idea where he is. No one was coming. 

He chastised himself for letting this happen. It was supposed to be a simple mission. Just get a sample of the tree and get out. This was definitely not how he had wanted the day to go. If it is still day. He had no idea how much time had passed while he was out, and there was no way to tell the time of day in this room. All he could do was hope there was still time to make it back in time for Damian’s show. If he missed it, he didn’t think the kid would ever put any trust in him again, and what little progress he made would be for nothing. It was probably not what he should be worried about right now, but still, it was an incentive to escape.

He did a self-inventory. His mask and suit were still on, so no one seemed to be interested in his identity. That was a relief, though he suspected Slade already knew and had known for a long time. He felt the dried blood on his neck, but at least it seemed like the bleeding had stopped. His left side ached from a hit from the fight, and the pain in his hand seemed to hit him as soon as he remembered it. He sucked in a sharp breath and tried not audibly curse. There was no blade left in it, and he could feel mostly dried blood, but had no idea if it was still bleeding, as they were tied behind the chair. A hurt hand made it harder to get out of these binds.

A door let out a creak from behind him, and he turned his head as far as he could, but still couldn’t see who it was. Two sets of footsteps echoed in the room, and as soon as they came into view, he glared as hard as he could, but he only recognized one of them. 

“So, you're the one who came looking for things he shouldn’t know about.” The unknown man said. He was tall, but not taller than Slade, just slightly above average. He was muscular, but still thin. He had short, brown hair and a freshly shaven beard. He wore a nice, expensive suit, which indicated he was important somehow. He carried himself like he was someone who mattered, or at least thought he did. 

Slade said nothing when Tim looked to him instead of acknowledging Suit Guy. He just stared at Tim through that stupid-looking helmet and waited in the dark corners of the room. Tim drew his attention back to the man in front of him.

“Who the hell are you?” Tim said like the answer bore him no importance. He wasn’t the only one who could play this game.

The man just smiled softly. It didn’t fit his face. Like he had just learned how to smile yesterday. Tim tried not to laugh. 

“I am the man concerned with what you know and how you know it.” He peered closer at Tim and seemed to be examining his face as if it could tell him the answer he wanted to know. “How did you find out about Project Redeye?” The cold tone of his voice at his last question surprised Tim. It didn’t match with the rest of their conversation. 

Project Redeye. That sounded so familiar, but Tim could not place where. These people clearly thought he knew more than he did. Why else would he come all the way from Gotham to investigate some tree burns?

Tim decided to play this the hard way and see just how much he could get out of these people. “No idea what you're talking about. Maybe specify a little.” The man's face tightened, and Tim took it that his sarcasm was not appreciated.

“Fine,” he took a step back. “We will do this the hard way.” Tim assumed he was going to turn around and ask Slade to get the answers out of him, so he was genuinely shocked when Suit Guy threw a fist right at his face and landed a hard hit. 

Tim’s head snapped to the side as the pain exploded through his left eye and cheek. He hit harder than he would have thought he could. Tim didn’t give him the satisfaction of showing pain. He just turned his back up to look at him again and found a plan hatching as he observed the manic fury that festered in his eyes. 

Oh, this would be easy.

The only problem was Slade. Tim could not beat him, especially in this state with no weapons. Why was he even here? He wasn’t helping the man. He just kept watching Tim. 

Tim didn’t pay much mind to it at the moment, though. He was keeping his focus on the man in front of him. Slade was a problem for later.

“You didn’t answer my question, so I will ask one more time. How did you find out about Project Redeye? A spy on the inside? Did one of your little hero friends hack into our systems? What!” He was clearly not a patient man, as he was already losing his temper by the end of his speech. Tim was not impressed. 

“Well, you didn’t answer mine. I’m not one for one-sided relationships. Not very healthy. It takes two to keep a relationship.” He could have sworn he saw Slade let out a huff in his corner of darkness, but didn’t linger on it.

Suit Guy was getting angrier by the moment. Was this his first interrogation or something? “You annoying little twerp!” He raised his fist much quicker this time, clearly not aiming, and the form was sloppy. The guy had power but no skill. 

Tim held back his smile as the binds on his hands slipped loose and as the fist went flying for his head, he brought his hand around in front of him, grabbed the flying wrist, and used the momentum to fling the guy onto the ground. The chair went with as Tim flung himself over the man, and it smashed into pieces, letting him easily slip out of the rest of the binds. 

He grabbed a sharp, broken chair piece and jabbed his shoe into Suit Guy’s head. Knocking him out cold. He didn’t even glance at Slade as he lunged for the door and prayed to the universe and any gods that were listening that it would be unlocked. He had bet this whole thing on them not locking it, and it seemed luck was on his side today. The door swung open, and Tim launched out of the room, not even considering which direction would be best, and just ran.

The hallways didn’t look much different from the room. Just grey with no windows. He must be underground. 

He passed a few doors and didn’t even think to stop and check them. He just had to get away from-

Tim listened in on the sounds in the hallway. Footsteps echoed, but only one pair. His own. He took the risk and glanced behind him. Slade wasn’t pursuing him. He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than the alternative.

Tim took this as his chance to find a better way out. He tightened his grip on the broken chair piece in his hand as he reached the end of the hallway. Tim was nearly yelling in delight. The window on the left showed a ladder and a hatch on the other side. A clear exit. 

Tim reached for the handle before stilling himself. He looked in the window of the other room. It was a lab, and it was empty. He was already here, and it had already cost him so much trouble. He might as well make it worth his while. He turned away from the exit and pushed open the door on the left. 

The lab had several computers around an open area in the middle. Tim hurried to look over the railing that circled the area in the middle and looked down. He felt the color drain from his face. It was an energy core. The original energy core. The one that powered the first of the guns. This was the lab where it all started, and he was right here. 

Tim wasted no time in going back to the computer, setting down the chair piece, and taking a drive out of a hidden part of his suit. They managed to take all his knives but didn’t bother to take his real weapons. His tech. 

He inserted the drive into the computer and got to work. It was well done, security, and he had to work to get through it, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. This mattered more than anything; nothing in the world could stop him right now. 

He spent a minute longer than he intended on the computer, but he had to get what he needed. He had no idea why Slade had not yet burst through that door to cut his heart out, but he was not about to complain. 

He finished what he was doing and pocketed the drive as the alarm started blaring. He grabbed his pathetic excuse for a weapon and turned to the exit. Four security guards turned the corner just before he could slip out. There wasn’t much time to mess around right now. 

Tim ran at them and swung the sharp piece of chair into the crevice of his shoulder and pulled it out as he screamed in pain. He targeted the man next to him and swung the piece across his face, then finished the job with his fist. 

The remaining two came at him at the same time and Tim used his wounded hand to jab the shard into the thigh of the one on the right and swung his leg around ot knock out the one on the left. He pushed the right one onto the ground and pulled the piece out, and he wasted no time in heading out the door. 

He was about to make his escape and go through the exit door, but froze between the two doors, and he caught a flash of movement in the side of his vision.

He turned to find Slade standing there, 20 feet down the hall, watching him. He wasn’t approaching, just watching. Tim looked at him for a long moment, prepared for him to attack him again. He just stayed still. Tim wondered if he was imagining it for a moment before he heard the words flow through the long hallway. 

“I’ll be seeing you again soon, Birdy.” And with that final remark, Slade turned around and went through a different door. 

Tim didn’t stop to let the dread of those words sink in as the alarm continued to blare in his ears. He ripped open the exit door and climbed up the ladder, then undid the hatch. 

He expected the sun to blare down on him, but unfortunately was met with the sight of cold, dead night as he emerged from the ground. He stumbled out and didn’t bother to close it behind him. He just looked around to figure out where he was. This was the same clearing he found the trees in. No wonder they thought he knew so much. He was right on top of their base. Tim wondered what kind of idiot would mark the location of their base with burned trees right above it as he turned in the direction of his car and started sprinting.

He didn’t stop until the dark shape of it came into view, and only stumbled when a slight rumble shook the earth. He looked back in the direction he came and saw the small cloud of smoke go up in the air. 

He knew what it meant. It meant that he just killed every single person in that base, likely with the exception of Slade. Bruce would never forgive him if he knew, and it would forever stain his image as a hero if it got out, but he could not find any hint of remorse inside him for it. He knew that saving his family would require sacrifice, and he was willing to make those sacrifices. 

Right now, the only thing that mattered to him was that he had just gotten one step closer to changing the future. 

Chapter Text

Dick stared down at the protein pancakes on his plate trying not to make it obvious he was wishing it was Lucky Charms. He loved Alfred’s cooking, but sometimes he just needed to eat marshmallows for breakfast. Alfred was not a fan of the sentiment. 

Bruce sat next to him on the table, focusing on something he was reading on his phone, not even touching the pancakes. If Alfred walked in and saw the state of them and their breakfast, he would be very disappointed. It was the only reason he finished them. 

He had come home early this week and met up with the rest of his family last night on patrol instead of tonight like usual. After everything that happened last week, he felt uneasy not being home right now. He had been hoping for more of an answer than the one that they got, but would have to settle for it for now. Tim had promised to share more, but he couldn’t help but feel it was just another excuse to not talk about it. 

He was also still thinking about their argument. He regretted how he reacted when Tim told him about his theory on Bruce being alive, but he thought that maybe things were better now, and he had moved on. Dick shouldn’t have assumed though, he never did apologise for it, but Damian had needed Robin at the time. He also couldn’t have Tim fighting anywhere but by his side. They were equals, and he, being the Robin to his Batman, just didn’t feel right. He would need to bring that up sometime. He needed to explain himself to Tim.

“Dick?” His head snapped up to meet Bruce’s eye. He was looking at him expectantly. He must have said something while he was zoning out. “You alright?”

Dick sighed and looked back at his empty plate. “Yeah, just thinking.” Bruce gave him a knowing look and Dick brushed it off. “What are you working on?” He gestured to his phone.

“Work. I need to finish up some things Tim asked me to before he gets back.” Part of the things they talked about with Tim was that he needed to ask for help more, and Dick was happy to see that it was working.

“Back from where?” A new voice spoke up from behind Dick and he turned around to find Damian standing in the doorway to the kitchen. That was odd. He usually pays no mind to the comings and goings of Tim. 

“He left a note on the fridge saying that he had some urgent meeting in Metropolis today.”

“And you just let your 17-year-old kid travel to another city by himself, leaving only a note?” Dick had had no idea that Tim wasn’t at the manor. He never did get to spend any time with him after the whole ordeal last week. 

“He runs two companies, I understand that things come up unexpectedly. That is part of why Tim now runs the majority of it. He was fine with focusing more on the companies than I was.” Bruce went back looking at his phone while Dick was giving him a disappointed look. He was obviously ignoring it. 

Before Dick could chastise him more Damian spoke up again, “When will he be back?”

Dick looked closer at Damian to make sure it was still him. Why was he wondering about what Tim was doing? He should probably be concerned that he was plotting something against Tim. 

“He said he’d be back today at some point.” Bruce chimed in, then stood up and left the room, muttering something about pointless emails. Maybe it was for the best that Tim had taken the lead on the business. Bruce could handle the Galas and the personas, and he was certainly well-versed in the business world, but he didn’t seem to delight in the actual logistics that went into running the company like Tim did. Tim was constantly working and never grumbled about it.

Dick was still staring at Damian as he got his own pancakes and sat down at the table. He seemed to be the only one today who didn’t have anything against them because he got right to eating. Bruce barely touched his. 

“Why are you asking about Tim?” Damian looked up from his plate with his usual bored look on his face. 

“Just curiosity.” Damian returned his focus to his breakfast. Dick wasn’t buying it, but decided it would be best to leave it alone for now. There was no reason to assume he had any bad intentions, so Dick moved on and went about his day.

…

Tim’s head, thigh, hand, and really his whole body ached as he pulled into the alley near one of his safehouses in Gotham. There was no more adrenaline to keep his mind occupied during the drive, and whatever Slade used to knock him out was finally catching up to him. The drive had felt hours longer than it actually was. 

He had been out longer than he had hoped and didn’t get to the city until midday. He still had several hours till Damian’s show tonight, but making it on time was not the problem. 

He stumbled into the safehouse and tore off the suit he’d been wearing all night, then immediately headed for the showers. The burn of the water on his wounds was drowned out by how nice the warm water felt on his scalp.

He finished up and got to work on cleaning and dressing his wounds. He frowned when he finally looked in a mirror and saw the large bruise forming around his left eye. It was not something easily covered. There was also a small but deep cut on his neck from Slade’s sword. He looked awful, but he had ways to cover most of it up. 

After attending to all the cuts and bruises, he put on jeans and a hoodie. Not necessarily the attire he would usually choose for an art show, but the hoodie covered up the cut on his neck, and it was a middle school art show, so surely the dress code was not that strict. 

He searched the bedroom, which he only spent time in after late nights at the office, because it was right next to Wayne Industries, and he didn’t feel like driving, for a pair of sunglasses. He found a suitable pair and looked in the mirror. It covered the majority of the bruise, but not enough. 

He had some concealer in most of his houses for times like this. He knew how to use it from Bruce, as he couldn’t show up to work the day after a bad patrol sporting black eyes every week. It became a necessary skill to learn after so many years. 

He finished and put the glasses back on. With both that and the concealer, it was barely noticeable unless you were looking. 

Now he had to fix the biggest problem yet. The giant stitched red line in his hand. He could have worn gloves, but he thought that was odd to just casually wear when it wasn’t snowing, and he didn’t think he had any in the house. 

He settled on just wrapping the hand like he had hurt his fist fighting something. It could easily be played off as he just punched someone while getting mugged. It wasn’t an uncommon story in Gotham, and most wouldn’t blink at it. Except Damian, who knew Tim could punch just fine without hurting his fist, and he wasn’t even in Gotham for the past 24 hours. So, he was counting on the idea that Damian just wouldn’t care.  

With his plan in place and every injury covered up to the best of his ability, he left for the show.

…

Tim was greeted at the door by a smiling lady in her late twenties who did not suppress her delight in seeing the CEO of Wayne Industries and son of Bruce Wayne show up at the art show. You’d think with Damian going here, they would be used to Wayne's, not to mention all the other wealthy kids who went here.

“Oh! Mr. Drake, what are you doing here?” Tim smiled kindly at her.

“The Art Show.” He gestured inside while subtly scanning for the familiar dark hair of Damian to pop out in the crowd. 

She looked at him abashedly, “Of right, of course, just inside and down the hall.” She didn’t even ask him for his ticket, and he questioned the security of the place. 

He said his thanks and went inside, still scanning for Damian. The art was all above average for middle schoolers. They clearly didn’t take the art of everyone in the school, and people could get into the school on several scholarships, some including art. That reflected in what he saw on the walls, and there were a few that stood out to him more than others, but he only stopped walking when he saw what he was looking for.

There on the wall, a hand-drawn black and white sketch of Alfred the Cat looked right at him. It was masterfully done. Down to every line and detail, there was clear precision and skill in it. He had not expected this. He thought it would be some mediocre drawing of the family cat that would get any normal kid noticed enough to be entered into the show, but this was far better than that.

The cat looked right at him with large, round eyes. It had the same look as the real one. It was a very serious tone for a cat drawing. Nothing else surrounded the cat. It just sat in the center of the drawing, gazing at the viewer like it knew something he didn’t. Tim found he could not look away from its gaze. 

“You came.” Tim peeled his eyes away from the drawing to see Damian standing there looking vaguely surprised. 

Tim smiled slightly. “This is good. Really good. Who knew you were hiding a secret talent from us?” 

“Of course it is good I made it,” there was the Damian he was expecting, but there was also a hint of joy in his voice that Tim didn’t usually pick up on. “And it is not a secret. I just do not usually care to share it.” He turned to look at the painting, and Tim followed suit. 

“That’s okay too, but I really do think that the rest would be thrilled if you invited them, unless Bruce already brought them.”

“What are you talking about?” 

Tim glanced at Damian, standing next to him. “You didn’t tell Bruce?” He didn’t bother to hide the shock in his voice.

Damian stared at the drawing for a moment longer. “No, I didn’t invite Father.”

“Dick?”

“No.”

“Jason?”

“No.”

“Oh,” Tim whispered. 

Tim stood in silence for a long moment, letting that sink in. Damian had only invited Tim to his show. No one else. He barely contained his smile, but made no further comment on it. 

“Why did you pick Alfred the Cat?” He decided a change of conversation was best, and he was genuinely curious. 

“He is difficult to capture. The shading had to be just right to get the essence of him on the paper.” He had no idea what Damian meant by “essence” as this was a cat, but perhaps his lack of artistic skills was the reason for his confusion. “You could see it better if you took off those stupid sunglasses. We are inside, Drake.” 

Tim did not panic. “I can see it just fine.”

“Tsk, you are not getting the full impact of the shading with them on.” 

“I am plenty impacted.” Tim just continued to stare at the picture for a moment longer. Damian seemed to have moved on from the conversation. 

“Thank you. For coming.” The words sounded strained and like he was trying to make them sound correct as he said them. 

“I’m glad you invited me.” Tim didn’t look at Damian as he imagined he was already uncomfortable after thanking him. Their conversations seemed to always go better when they weren’t looking directly at each other. Maybe that was the secret to their relationship that he had been missing all along. Just don’t make eye contact.

Tim decided to put him out of his misery. “How did you get here?” 

“Alfred dropped me off.”

“Do you want to stay longer, or I can drive us home?”

“No, we can go.” Damina sounded very happy to leave, and Tim had noticed he never saw him talk to anyone but Tim the whole evening.

Damina brushed past him and headed for the exit, and Tim followed, but not before snapping a quick picture of the drawing. 

…

The drive back had fortunately not been miserable or awkward. Just comfortable silence as the radio softly played in the background. This was more progress than they had ever gotten in the future. Maybe he had underestimated Damian's ability not to maim him. It seemed like as soon as Tim stopped fighting him, Damian, for the most part, did the same. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the question he had thought he’d gotten away with avoiding that night. 

“What did you do to your hand?”

“Mugger.”

Damian scoffed. “You injured your hand from a mugger?” The disbelief was clear. Tim felt a little happy that Damian did actually think of him in a high enough regard to scoff at his excuse. But it still posed a problem.

“It was one mean mugger.” That was not much better.

“I thought you were in Metropolis today?”

“Hey, people still get mugged in Metropolis.”

Damian just hummed at his answer, sounding uncannily like Bruce when he did it. 

They didn’t speak for the rest of the drive home, and when Tim parked the car, which he had switched out from the unmarked one while at the safehouse, Damian headed straight for the stairs. He clearly was not interested in answering any questions about why he and Tim were spending time together.

Tim had had the same idea and didn’t bother to grab food before heading for the staircase. 

“How was your meeting?” Tim stopped in his tracks to see Bruce standing in the entryway to his office. 

He didn’t get any closer for fear that it would make his injuries more obvious. If anyone could figure it out, it was Bruce. “Fine, just some deals that needed in-person signatures, and give people a chance to yell at me to my face. You know how it is.” 

Bruce nodded. “I got the work you asked for done.” Tim wasn’t sure how he felt about of a lot of the things he talked with Bruce and Dick about last week, but this one was actually a relief. With focusing so much on his mission, he had admittedly been neglecting his other work a bit. The help was nice.

“Thanks.” Tim assumed the conversation was done and restarted his walk to the stairs. 

“What happened to your hand?” The tone shift made Tim freeze. He looked back to find Bruce scanning him, looking for something he hadn’t had a moment ago. “You are wearing sunglasses inside with concealer underneath. I showed you that trick.” His voice had sounded almost sad by the end, but Tim didn’t have time to linger on it as Bruce approached slowly. Tim didn’t bother trying to sprint up the stairs or come up with an excuse to leave this time. He knew he was already in too deep.

Bruce was standing in front of him now and looking down. He reached up a hand and took off Tim’s glasses. He looked like he was in pain as he brushed a finger on where Tim knew the visible part of the bruise lingered. 

“I’m sorry.” He looked away from Bruce’s eyes, not even trying his mugger story. It wouldn’t work on him. 

He waited for him to yell at him for lying or for being weak enough to get hit in the first place. He trained him better than that. Instead, his hand drifted to his neck, and Tim knew he saw the small cut. 

“Who hurt you?” His voice sounded… Sad? But determined? Tim looked back up at him and saw anger, but it didn’t feel directed at him. Tim wasn’t sure what to make of it. 

“I- um ran into some trouble in Metropoilis.” That was one word for it. 

“Tim, you can’t keep lying to us. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me things.”

Tim took a step back out of his reach and almost immediately regretted to loss of touch. Embrace was something he had rarely known these past years. The thought didn’t linger, though, and he felt that recurring rage flood his veins. He was trying to save them, but he couldn’t do it if they kept getting in his way. “I don’t need your help! Can’t you see I’m doing this for you?” He had a job to do.

“Tim- what-” 

“No! I just need you to stay out of my way.” Tim started back up the stairs again. He knew he was acting like a child and running away from his problems, but he couldn't stop the anger from blinding his reason. 

He quickened his footsteps as he heard Bruce following behind him. “Tim! Wait.” He almost felt bad at the desperation in his voice, but he didn’t turn around. 

The anger was fading into the familiar feeling of panic, and the truth of his circumstances seemed to become more prevalent. He knew how all this must look: the lies, the flinching, the random injuries. He knew he was doing a terrible job of hiding all this. The fact that something was wrong was no longer a secret but a question. The problem was that it was a question he couldn’t answer. Not without compromising everything.  

He finally reached the door to his room and slammed it shut behind him, and turned the lock. He heard Bruce’s steps on the other side and tried to push down the guilt of all his lies, and Bruce tried to open the door.

“Open the door, Tim.” It wasn’t a request, but it wasn't a command either. It was like he couldn't decide whether this situation called for Bruce or Batman. Tim wasn’t sure of it himself. “I’m not-I’m not mad, Tim, just open the door and talk to me.” He seemed to settle on his Bruce voice by the end of his sentence, and Tim almost wished he had chosen Batman. Wished he had chosen to demand that Tim stop acting like a child and open the door, or he’d break it down. Wished he had chosen to threaten to take away his patrols if he didn’t stop withholding information and get his act together. 

Tim wondered if he was going about all this wrong for a moment, and if he should savor this new caring demeanor Bruce had. He had no idea how long it would last, and how long it would be till he became the Bruce he remembered. He wondered how long it would take for him to mess it up again.

He was brought back out of his head by the sound of shifting on the other side of the door. Tim slid down the side of the door and rested his head on the back of it, listening in. 

“I don’t know what happened, but you can talk to me.” He couldn’t. He really couldn’t, even if he wished he could. “I promise I won’t be mad.” It sounded so truthful. So soft. The tone couldn’t possibly be meant for Tim, yet he found himself eyeing the locked doorknob just above his head and playing with the notion of turning it. “I just want to make sure you're okay.” His hand twitched in his lap. “Please, Sweetheart, open the…”

Bruce’s voice faded out, and a sudden ringing in his ears replaced it. His hand stopped just before it reached for the lock on he door. He shook his head as if he could clear it away. The doorknob blurred from his vision, and a sick, familiar feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. No, this can’t be happening again.

His fears were only confirmed as he saw the world start to tilt in the wrong direction, and nausea made his body lock up. He blinked rapidly to clear away the fog, but started to regret it as his vision came back to him. 

He wasn’t on the crumbling streets of Gotham this time, Dick wasn’t lying dead at his feet, and the sounds of bombs going off weren’t pounding on his eardrums. Instead, the silence of an empty manor echoed all around him. 

He was standing now, even if he had no memory of getting up. He felt the cold, stale air of the foyer and heard the creak of the wood flooring underneath him. It felt as real as if he were really here. It was so real, Tim wondered if it actually was. 

His eyes scanned the area around him and he sucked in a shaky breath at he sight of the empty coat rack and lack of shoes or dirt by the front door. He scanned some of the photos that littered the hall. He stared for a moment at the broken frame of one particular photo on the ground before quickly looking away. There was only dust here. The kind of dust that hadn’t settled in the manor until after it had become empty. After a certain butler was no longer here to brush it away, and no one burst through the front door to let the wind blow in. 

A sharp, all too real pain stabbed at his abdomen, and he looked down. The memory of this moment hit him like a punch in the face. Dick just died. He had come home alone to an empty manor bleeding out. No one was there to stitch up his wound, or help him put Dick’s body in the mortuary in the basement, or to hold him when he finally let himself sob through the night. He was alone again.

The feeling of warmth he got when he saw his family alive again began to fade, and the empty silence encroached on him. He wondered if maybe going back in time was just a dream. Seeing his family one more time was a gift that his mind had given him to distract him from the pain. It was the goodbye he never actually got. It was a way to say it and finally leave in peace.

As that thought settled over him and he began to accept the reality of the situation, he stared at the red gushing out of him, and the lightness that came with it. From what he remembered, by now he was rushing to stitch up his side, but Tim found himself planted to the floor. He had gotten to see his family again. He may not be able to save them again, but he saw them. He spoke with them, and they fought together again. It was all he really wanted. All he needed.

A new kind of silence washed over him. Not an empty, vast one, but a condemning one. One that he could accept. He could accept the blood falling out of him in the same way he could accept that this was the end. He hated himself, and he hated what happened, but there were no second chances. That had been just a fleeting dream. This was his reality, and this was the end of it. He let out a resigned sigh and turned to the hallway. He wanted to die somewhere comfy. Somewhere warm. 

He was stopped before he could even take a step. His ears rang, his breath quickened, and his vision blurred. Tim froze. He didn’t try to shake the feeling away; he just froze. No thoughts ran through his head; he just stared at his blurred surroundings and waited still as he’d ever been. 

A muffled voice came first over the ringing, and then came the sight of his bedroom surrounding him. 

“-and I’ll be here when you’re ready, okay?” Tim let out a silent sob as footsteps faded away from the other side of the door. 

Chapter Text

Tim caught the bag as it was thrown into his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“League called, need us for a mission,” Dick called as he headed for another room in the cave and Damien zipped past him with Alfred the Cat bundled in his arms. He was certain that Bruce had banned the cat from the cave at some point.

Tim looked down at the bag in his arms and riffled through it. It had a bunch of random tech and several bags of chips in it. Not what he was expecting. “And the bag?” He yelled hoping Dick was close enough to hear him. 

“Need to restock my snack shelf at the Watchtower!” He heard the response from whatever area of the cave Dick was in. 

Tim proceeded to roll his eyes and drop the bag in front of the computer, and go get his suit. This would be the first time he had seen the League since he came back. The thought made his heart quicken a little. He also did not recall what this mission was for. 

Dick came around the corner in full gear just as Tim did. “Ready? Hey, where’s my snack bag?”

“You can carry your own snacks.” Tim gestured to the discarded bag on the table and laughed as Dick glared at him and snatched it up.  

“What's the mission?” Damian called, as he appeared in the room, also in his suit, no longer holding Alfred. 

“No clue, B will meet us there.” Dick didn’t linger and headed right for the Zeta Tube in the corner, and he and Damian met each other's gaze and shared a confused look. 

A sort of peace had settled between them lately. Tim was delighted that his plan seemed to be working. Their relationship was not exactly closer, but this was the first time they had shared brotherly looks or gone 48 hours without throwing something. The art show had done wonders for putting some sort of level of trust and almost kinship between them. Tim was going to hold onto it for as long as he could. 

Dick seemed to be in a bit of a hurry so as soon as the portal was opened they stepped through after him, and Tim braced himself for the sight of familiar faces.

“Recognized Red Robin B20.” The familiar voice rang through Tim’s ears as he was the last to step onto the Watchtower, which was no longer blown up as it was in Tim's past/future. The voice warmed something in his heart before fear seized it once more as he recognized not only several League faces but faces from his own team at the time. He had not known they would be here. 

Tim swallowed back the feeling of his heart pumping in his ears and walked further into the room. Several people were talking and Dick had already disappeared somewhere, probably to go find Wally, because if the Titans were here then Dick’s team probably was too. 

He tried not to make eye contact with anyone and just kept his eyes down. Hopefully, they would start the briefing soon, and he could avoid talking about the fact that he had several dozen unanswered text messages from multiple people in this room. In all the chaos of dealing with his own family issues, he had neglected to deal with anything else. 

“Red!”

Shit. He quickened his footsteps, hoping it seemed like he didn’t hear. 

“RR!” He flinched at the closeness of the voice now.

“Red Robin!” The voice was practically right behind him, and he stopped his poorly executed escape and turned to face it. A couple of Leaguers had glanced in their direction, but ultimately returned to their own conversations, thankfully. 

“Hey, Kon.” Tim barely concealed the ache that leaked into his voice. It sounded pained, even to his own ears.

“Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in forever, and I don’t think my texts are going through. You should get your phone checked, Cassie said the same thing.” 

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” He still couldn’t meet his gaze. Memories danced in the back of his head, and he tried to push them away and not focus on it, but it was like not focusing on someone shining a bright light right into your face. 

“What’s wrong?” His voice was so achingly familiar, and it only made the feeling worse. He could not handle this right now. 

“I think they’re about to start.” He turned away, successfully managing never fully to meet Kon’s eyes. He was really hoping the universe would help him out right then and have someone start the meeting.

He was stopped by the feeling of a hand wrapping around his arm. He felt his whole body tense up and the touch disappeared right after. Tim cringed and turned back toward Kon. He didn’t deserve Tim ignoring him. He hadn’t even done anything wrong.

Tim made himself meet his eyes and tried to hide whatever emotion he was feeling deep down. Kon was looking right at him.

“Tim?”

He sighed and let his shoulders relax a little, “Sorry, things have just been crazy lately. We can talk when the mission is over, okay?” Of course he would make this future him’s problem.

Kon gave him a weird look but something flickered in his eyes as they scanned over Tim and that familiar smile brightened his face again. “Okay.” The soft but reassuring answer made him relax a little as voices quieted down behind him and he turned around.

Batman had just walked in and any relaxed muscle in his body suddenly tensed up. He hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor after what happened last night for several hours. He had seemed to be trapped in a dazed and confused trance. He had no idea what had happened but after accepting that this whole time thing wasn't real then suddenly coming back to it had thrown him for a loop and seemed to put him into some level of shock. When he finally came out of his room this morning, the manor was empty, much to his relief, and he hadn't seen Dick until late afternoon, just an hour ago. 

Tim’s gaze stayed glued on Batman’s figure as he made his way to where Clark was standing at the front of the room. He hadn’t even seemed to glance in his direction. 

It was then that Tim realized the severity of whatever was happening. A good majority of the league and even league adjacent were here. That didn’t happen every day, and worst of all, Tim has no idea why. He had no recollection of anything like this around this time, which meant he had already changed something. He had no idea whether to be happy or terrified. This was something he couldn't predict, therefore he was not prepared and anything could happen.

As the rest of the voices in the room turned silent, Batman's voice filled that silence. “The Light had made a move.” The feeling that those six words sent cascading through the room sent a chill down Tim’s spine. Everyone seemed to stand up a little straighter and watch Batman a little harder. 

“We got word of an illegal weapons shipment going though tonight. We intend to stop it and with any luck catch someone in the act for questioning.” All heads turned to Clark or Superman, as he was now, as he continued off Batman’s statement. “There are four reported deals going tonight and we don’t know which is the real one.”

“So we are hitting all of them.” Batman’s low voice cut in. 

Tim felt a panic rise in him. He had no idea what shipment or deal was going down. Weapon? The Light? None of this should be happening. This couldn't throw off his plan. He just had to hope that this was a minor snag in the timeline and he could still do what he needed to do without a major unknown.

…

The jet was nearly there as Tim finished reviewing all the info on the plan. His team, which consisted of him, Diana as the leader, Victor, Zatanna, Bart, Raven, and Roy, was in charge of the deal in Mexico. It was an odd group and they had never worked together, but Tim couldn’t do anything about it, no matter how much it made him miss working with his own team.       

Dick, who got lucky, was with most of his own team plus a few others, and was headed toward the Canadian border in Washington. The other teams were in Central City and deep in the Colorado mountains. The sheer distance between all the possible locations the deal could go down told him just how important this was. It also scared him, because if something this big was already happening because of the timeline, then what else changed?

“We’re five minutes out, get ready.” Diana announced from the pilot seat. 

Tim had been ready to jump out of the plane since he got on it. His nerves were through the roof. Ever since he went back in time he’d gotten used to knowing, in some sense, what would happen, but now he had none of that. He had to be ready for anything.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as a figure approached and sat down beside him.

“You good, your lookin’ a little high strung there?” Roy said.

“Yeah, I’m good.” He hoped his dismissive tone would get him to leave him alone. He didn’t have any quarrels with Roy, but they were never really close. 

“It’s gonna be fine, ya know. Just a simple bust.”

“I’m not- um, I know, thanks.” The awkward air around them felt thick and Tim wasn’t sure what to do.

“Cool.” Roy nodded, and played with some latch in his suit.

“We’re approaching the drop, it’ll be thick forest so make your way to the rendezvous point so we can all meet up.” Victor said and he walked though the cabin of the jet toward where the back of the plane began opening. Tim was grateful for the interruption. 

The loud sounds of wind and the plane filled his ears as the walkway opened completely and he tightened the straps of the parachute on his back. 

Diana appeared out of the cabin with a device in hand and shouted, “Alright, ships on autopilot and will pick us up in exactly 2 hours.” She looked at the device in her hand, “Five seconds!" 

Tim readied himself, he needed to be on his best performance for this, there was no room for mistakes. Not when the entire future depended on his every move. 

“Three, two…” Tim ran toward the opening and jumped out as she finished her counting and the rush of wind and humid air hit him like a truck as he plummeted down.

With practiced ease he pulled the strap to the chute and gently landed in the dense forest. There was no sign of anyone else in his group that he could see. They were only seconds apart, so they couldn’t be far. 

The Comm crackled to life and Diana voice filled his ear. “Everyone, status?”

The sounds of everyone rattling off that they landed and were fine came through. He had already started looking at the screen in his arm suit to see what direction the warehouse it was taking place in was located. 

He moved as quick as he could through the forest, not wanting to waste a second of time that he could use to figure out what the hell was going on. 

A crack of a branch got his attention to the left on his and he quickly pulled out his bo-staff and braced himself. Zatanna appeared from around a tree and he relaxed a little. 

She spotted him and smiled, “Ah, I’m glad I found you.”

He simply nodded at her and went back to looking at his wrist pad. “We’re close.” He said, and started walking again.

“Did you change your hair?”

“What?” He nearly stopped walking at the question.

“There's just something… different about you.” 

His attention snagged on that and his heart skipped a beat. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

She hummed and Tim could feel her eyes on him. “Probably nothing.” She continued walking as if she never said anything, and Tim decided as well that it was probably nothing .

…

It took ten more minutes to reach the rendezvous point, just as planned and they were the first ones there, but the other arrived just minutes after and they headed to a large rock overlooking the valley where the deal was taking place. It was in a cave that had been converted to some sort of storage facility. Much of it was outside from what he could see, but the thick forest covered it well. 

Several people were walking around transporting things, but none looked familiar until- “There,” Tim pointed to a general area on the grounds. “The symbol on those crates, recognize it?”

“That’s the same symbol we found in the bust in Malaysia last year,” Roy said.

“We’ve encountered it many times, which is further proof that we are dealing with The Light here.” Diana said in a serious tone. “Alright, you know your positions, Raven and Zatanna get to your vantage point.” The two headed out. “Cyborg, Arsenal you're a go as well.” 

Now it was just Diana, Bart, and Tim. “Red Robin, see if you can hack into the sec-”

“Already in.” Tim typed away at the screen on his wrist, switching between cameras and covering any trace of his presence. 

“Very good, Impulse, secure the perim-” Bart zoomed off into the distance with a lightning quick "Got it!” being all that was left. “I’m starting to think I’m just talking to myself here.” She said and Tim cracked a small smile. Diana was one of the things he had missed when everything fell apart. Her strong smile and sense of hope instilled into everything was something he could have used more than once in the future. It was good to have it back. 

He ripped his thoughts away from the subject and focused on the screen once more. The shipment, if it was actually this location and not at one of the others, would happen at any moment. 

“There has been no update from any of the other teams,” Diana said.

Tim hoped that it was their location, just so he could have a front seat to figure out what he was missing from the timeline. A simple report from the other teams could leave out crucial details that only he could find. 

Before Tim could respond the familiar hum of an engine filled the air. It was distant, but there.

“Something’s coming.” He straightened.

“Yes.” Diana said, also looking more alert.

A large armored van appeared from out of the trees and pulled into an open area in front of the warehouse. Some of the men started making their way in its direction. A large man in a lab coat that Tim didn’t recognise came out from the cave and headed toward the van. 

“Be ready.” Diana said next to him and it came through the Comm so others could hear.

Tim grabbed his bo-staff, but didn’t unleash it.

A door slammed and another man that he didn’t recognize came out of the van and began talking to Lab Coat Guy. They were way too far away to hear what the people were saying, but the briefcase that was passed to the man in the van was definitely seen. Van Guy walked back with Lab Coat and started to open the back of the van. 

“Now!” Diana said into the Comm and they launched over the rock and began to head down the hill. Before they even neared the bottom an arrow came from an unknown direction and hit one of the back ties, and another a second later hit the leg of the Van driver before he could react. 

Shouting came from all directions now and the seemingly harmless workers were now armed. Diana was far ahead of Tim and already started breaking through some of the Worker as gun fire filled the once quiet forest. Most of the men ran out from the large caves entrance.

Tim, however, had a different job and headed for the van. The Lab Coat Guy was gone now and all that remained as he neared the back was the Van driver whimpering from the arrow currently sticking out of his leg. 

From the corner of his eye he spotted Zatanna, Raven, and Victor joining the fight as more and more of the men kept coming out of the cave.

Tim reached the back of the van, looked in, and- 

He extended the bo-staff and blocked a blade heading straight for his head, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!”

“Didn’t expect to see you so soon, Birdie.” The orange and black helmet he really did not want to see right now peered over their crossed weapons. 

The force of the blade from the upward angle was straining on his muscles and he couldn’t hold it much longer. He used the bottom of the van to kick off and flipped back out of the fight. He stilled himself and readied his weapon.

“Slade,” the name was all too fresh on his tongue. “Why are you here?” 

“The same question, the same answer.” He taunted and he stepped down from the back in the van onto the ground and approached Tim. He met the approach with equally paced steps backward. 

His vision flickered to the open trunk behind him and he nearly forgot there was a deadly assassin headed right for him. 

There was a glowing, awfully familiar, energy source in the middle and it was connecting to several crates surrounding it. 

He felt the blood drain from his face. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. “Is that what I think it is?”

Slade stopped his approach and looked behind him, the mask hiding any expression but Tim felt the arrogance and amusement as he spoke. “You didn’t think you blew all of it up, did you?”

Tim felt that familiar rage fill his veins, but this time he wanted it, this time he needed it. “Fuck you.”

Slade seemed to be about to respond when Tim launched himself at the man, with no regard for what the odds in this fight actually were.

Block after block, blow after blow, it was like a dance, but Tim didn’t feel it. All he felt was rage. The reminder of what that glow being here meant. It meant he missed something. And missing something would get everyone killed. 

He knew in some forgotten corner of his mind that Slade was just playing along, for whatever sick purposes of his own, and he could knock him down at any moment, but he was there at every blow, not making any further move. Tim was too drunk on anger to notice.

He detached from the restraints this time required him to have and threw in several moves that even Deathstroke could not predict. Ones he was not supposed to have. It made him stubble and Tim took advantage of that and landed a hard blow to his abdomen and he stumbled back for a moment. That moment gave Tim a second to settle. He remembered that even though this wasn’t supposed to be happening he had to figure out why it was. 

He spun around and landed another hard blow to his side while Slade was down causing him to drop the blade. He held the end of the bo-staff to his throat, all too aware of the irony. 

“You’ve impressed me, once more.” He said with what sounded like genuine regard.

“I don’t care,” Tim seethed. “Who’s your supplier?”

He chuckled from the ground. He was making an unnervingly little amount of escape attempts. “You misunderstand. I don’t care about the weapons, I’m just a hired gun. Besides, I believe you’ve already met them.”

Tim tried not to bristle at the memory when it sparked another question. “Some gun you are? Why’d you let me go that night?”

Slade just shook his head, “I have my reasons.”

The sound of gunfire had seemed to die down a little and he realized he wasn't alone here. If he wanted to ask the questions he had then he needed to hurry. 

“Give me a name, a company, something!” He said returning to the more pressing topic.

A shift from Slade had him pressing the bo-staff harder into his throat. “Easy there, Birdie” Tim almost delighted in the slight way he tensed, but was cut off by a nearby shout and suddenly too close gunfire.

He whipped his head up in the direction of the commotion and knew his mistake the second he did it. The bo-staff was ripped from his grasp and he found himself on the ground in an instant, reflexes just a second too late. In another time, he would have been fast enough.

He felt a cold metal on his not yet healed scab and fresh blood tricked down his neck, though not as much as last time. Slade was far closer than he liked and he tried to get his hand around the blade but only managed to grab his arm, but the harder he gripped the deeper the blade went in, so he just froze, not releasing his tight grip. 

“You going to kill me now?” Tim asked, looking right at the mask in front of him.

He let out a laugh, "Haven't you learned anything? I don't want you dead yet.”

“‘Yet’ being the key term there.”

He heard a sigh that almost sounded like annoyance come from him, but before he could retort, more shouting sounded and Tim glanced in its direction, turning his head as much as the blade on his neck would allow. 

The fighting seemed over and Diana had spotted him and was headed his way. Even with how good of a fighter Deathstroke was, he couldn’t imagine taking on Wonder Woman would be an easy feat. 

Slade seemed to agree as he shifted and started talking, “Alright you want something? Look into Norman Wilcox, you might find something interesting there.”

Tim could barely contain his shock. “Why are you helping me?” 

Slade ignored the question and continued on. “I don’t know how you got involved in this, but I meant what I said: I’ll be seeing you again soon. Oh, and don't worry, I’ll handle the demolitions this time around.” With that the pressure in his neck disappeared and Slade with it.

He stood up in a hurry and looked to see him running in the direction of the forest just as he felt Diana run by him. 

“Wait!” He shouted, but before he could continue the van exploded. 

Chapter Text

A sharp pain shot through Tim's ears and he winced. 

“Red Robin”

His left side throbbed like he’d just been hit by a truck.

“Hey!”

“Just carry him!”

He groaned as the pain along with his consciousness grew.

“He’s injured.”

“No shit.” Roy's voice was the first he recognized and he managed to finally open his eyes and behold the mess that surrounded him. Shrapnel from the van littered the ground around him and farther away was a mass of unconscious bodies from the men from the cave. 

He looked down at where the pain in his side was coming from, only to be met with the sight of a small piece of the van sticking out of him. He nearly pulled it out from sheer annoyance but thought better of it and looked back up at the figure in front of him. 

Bart was staring right at him with an urgent look on his face and Roy was behind him.

Bart spoke up first, “Dude, the jet’s almost here, we gotta go to the extraction point.”

Before he could muster a response Roy cut in. “Can you walk?”

Tim had no idea, so on unsteady legs he rose to his feet and nearly fell back on the ground were it not for the hand that grabbed his arm.

“We don’t have time for this. I'll carry you.”

Tim tried not to laugh for the pain it would most likely cause him. “Yeah, no. I’m fine, just a bit shaken up. I’ll walk.”

“You have a piece of metal sticking out of you.” He deadpanned.

“It’s small,” He responded with the same amount of enthusiasm.

Roy looked at him intensely, but there was no chance in hell anyone was carrying him. He was fine. He could handle a little pain. He’s won fights with worse. 

With that thought he brushed past the two heroes and spotted Diana in the distance looking at something near the caves entrance and he stopped.

“What is she doing?” He asked without turning around.

“She’s staying and waiting for a backup team to comb throughout the area and deal with all these people. We are supposed to make our way to where the jet will pick up and head back to the tower. You know, in a timely manner.” Tim could hear the annoyance in the tone and decided to get on with limping his way back to the extraction point. It took all his willpower not to pass out from the pain of the metal in him and not flinch as he pressed a piece of cloth in it. By the time he made it to the jet with the other's, he passed out the second he stepped in from the blood loss. 

…

Tim watched the juice in his glass swish around as he swirled it. He’d kill for a Redbull right now. 

He’d woken up at the end of the flight back to the watchtower with a well-stitched side and an IV in his arm. He was so dizzy on the walk to the Med bay that he had to grip into Roy's arm, much to his embarrassment. He was instructed to go home and rest, but there was no way he was going to miss the debrief. This was way too important. 

So here he was, sitting alone in the debriefing room with his juice, waiting for the rest of the teams to get back. Somehow his team was the first to arrive back, even though they were at the place where the deal ended up happening. Not that it was ever completed. 

The time alone gave him a moment to think back on every insane thing that just happened, even though it proved harder than normal with his current lack of blood and pounding headache. He kept coming back on the name Slade had given him. It wasn't familiar, but he couldn’t help but feel it should have been. Norman Wilcox. Tim didn’t recall it ever being mentioned in the future, and as much as that scared him it also gave him a little hope. If he found something new that they didn’t in the future then maybe he could do something different to change things. He also knew it was foolish to put faith in anything Slade told him.

Before he could think on it longer the door to the room opened to reveal Dick in his Nightwing suit storming in with an alarmed look on his face. He scanned the room before his eyes settled on Tim and seemed to take a relieved breath. 

“You idiot.”

Tim sighed and braced himself, and Dick walked over to him and Tim stood to meet his eyes but couldn’t help but sway slightly and his vision dotted in black. He never even had to think about stopping himself from falling over because arms wrapped around him and he tensed for a moment. 

“When you bleed out, you take a long nap. Not whatever this is.” Tim relaxed at the serious but soft tone of the words. 

“Dick,” He pulled away from Tim and looked at him. The sad, puppy dog look in his eyes almost made him feel a little guilty. “We’ve both gotten worse injuries in battle. It’s hardly the most interesting thing that happened today.”

Dick glared at him, “you should still be resting.”

Tim shrugged and glanced behind him. “Where is everyone else?”

Dick hesitated for a moment but eventually gave in. “Right behind me.” He went for a chair next to Tim, and Tim sat down right after he did, grateful not to have to keep his balance any longer.

A short moment passed when the door burst open and people started pouring in the room. Dick must have sprinted here to see him before all of them arrived. Tim almost smiled at the thought.

People began to take their seats around the room, a few giving him concerned glances that he ignored. He only shifted slightly in his seat when he spotted Batman come in, talking with Roy. 

Batman looked up and met Tim’s stare, but he quickly looked away before he had to see whatever look Batman was going to give him. There was no doubt that he'd heard about what happened already; especially with Roy likely dramatizing what happened at this very moment to him.

Tim, instead, thought about the fact that he still had no idea what caused the time stream to change like it did. He nearly started panicking at the thought. If he didn’t figure out what was going on and soon, the consequences could be catastrophic. 

“Everyone ready?” Clark’s voice echoed through the room and people quieted down.

Batman came to stand beside him and hit a button on a computer on the table, “Patching Wonder Woman through now.” Heads turned toward a screen on the other side of the room.

An image of the woman he’d seen just hours ago came up, only now there were several people he didn’t recognize moving around behind her. 

“All the prisoners have been detained and are off site.” Her voice came through the feed, crystal clear. Batman only grunted in response. 

“Find anything?” Clark responded.

She looked at something outside the camera view and then looked back, “The blast from the van destroyed most of the evidence, but we did find a symbol I haven't seen before on one of the pieces of debris. None of the workers had anything to say about a mention of the Light.” Which was to be expected. No one involved with them was particularly forthcoming. 

“A different symbol than we found on those crates?” Roy asked from across the room.

“Yes.” A few people looked lost at the mention of another symbol, but Dick spoke up before anyone could ask.

“And what about Deathstroke?” Tim already knew the answer.

“He’s long gone.” 

“Can you show us that symbol?” Clark asked.

The camera moved for a moment and paused before flipping to show the ground. Diana spoke as she walked, “None of the workers had anything to say about it either, and I scanned it through what I could online but there were no matches. We’ll need to do a more in depth scan later.”

The movement stopped and scrapping of metal could be heard off screen. Something came into view of the screen and- 

Tim felt the color drain from his face and his heart picked up pace. The edges of the screen blurred and the next moment all he could think of was the past, and of the last time he’d seen that symbol. 

No, it’s too early.

He desperately tried to reason with himself as if it would change what was right in front of him. 

His brain finally caught up with him and he abruptly stood up and heads turned toward him. He hadn’t even registered Clark saying something until now. Darkness danced on the edge of his vision, but the fear rising in him pushed it away.

“Red?” He heard Dick voice but he took a moment to realize he was alive and being spoken to. Urgency surged in him and he turned toward the exit.

“I have to go.” He rushed toward the doors and out them, faintly aware of a pair of footsteps following him a second later. 

He had to get to the Zeta Tubes. He didn’t have a second of time to waste; not with everything that it risked. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” He heard himself whispering in his panic. 

He was almost at the Zeta room when a hand grabbed his shoulder and he whipped around to face them, “Dick, I’m fine. Just leave it- oh.” He halted at the sight of Batman looking down at him. “B?” He was alone.

“What’s wrong? What did you see?” His voice revealed none of whatever he was feeling toward Tim right now. Only years of knowing him allowed him to grasp a hint of concern in the tone.

Tim didn’t respond right away; he just stared for a moment. He tried to conceptualize the situation, but just landed back in that same panic from a moment ago. “I- Just tired from the bloodloss. I gotta go.”

His reaction told Tim that he didn’t believe it for a second. “What are you not telling me? What’s been going on with you? I tried to give you time, but now I'm thinking that was a mistake, because something is clearly wrong. You come home with strange bruises, you go rouge on missions, and you freak out in meetings. Tell me the truth.” By the end of his speech the clear desperation that Tim did not expect was evident. But he didn’t miss the demand for the truth either. So, he did the next best thing he could think of in an urgent situation like this: he turned and ran as fast as he could.

He knew there should have been a pain in his side to slow him down but the adrenaline coursing through him drowned it out. He turned the corner to the Zeta room and slammed on the door lock. It shut behind him and beeped. He heard a bang on the thick steel doors but he turned to the computer pad. 

His mind drifted to the task at hand and he plugged in where he wanted to go, and quickly set it so it would show no trace of the location after he left. The computer beeped and he just hoped he still had time. There were too many unpredictables right now.

“Recognized, Red Robin B20” He stepped in front of the the tube, light flashed, and he was gone. 

…

The loud noises of cars passing kept Tim from spacing out as he limped through the streets of Tokyo; the adrenaline was no longer there to keep him numb. He shouldn’t be here and there was no way that there wouldn't be questions and yelling when he returned but his mind wasn't focused on that.

He typed on his arm screen trying to pinpoint how far he was from his destination. He had already blocked any trackers and there was no way to find where the Zeta Tube sent him from the Tower. 

He pushed through the pain in where he was sure some of his fresh stitches had ripped and turned down an alley. Were it not for the cover of night he would have stuck out like a sore thumb on the open streets, but given this wasn't Gotham, he just looked like some lunatic in a costume, and maybe he was. 

The sounds of life grew fainter as he went deeper in the alley and gazed up at the windows above. When he spotted what he was looking for he launched his grappling hook and landed on the fire escape in front of the apartment he’s spent the last three hours looking for. He tried the window only to find it was locked and with a quick glance back to the alley behind him he kicked the base and broke the lock. 

It slid open with ease and he silently landed inside, looking around for movement but finding none. He didn’t have time to wait around. He turned around to close the window when he sensed a presence beside him and jumped back. A leg was suddenly hurtling for his face and he grabbed at and pulled the person attached to the ground. He grabbed a dagger in some hidden compartment of his suit and held it to his assailant's neck as they fought for leverage on the ground.

Eyes locked on him and paused. Tense silence filled the apartment as those eyes seemed to process what they were beholding for a moment. A smile broadened that familiar face and he couldn’t stop his return. 

“Tim,” the confusion in which she spoke the words made him ease the blade from her jugular. 

“Good to see you again, Pru.” He stood off her fully now and reached out a hand to her which she grasped as he pulled her up. “Sorry for the break in, I didn’t have time to call.”

Her smile faltered, “What is it?” 

He looked at her with urgent eyes, “I need your help, and you're not going to like it.”

She took a step back and nodded, “Sit.” She gestured to the couch and he did. “Need a drink? You don't look too good there.” He probably didn’t, and he didn’t feel much better either.

“Water would be great.” She went to walk away, but he stopped her, “You got a pen and paper I could use?” She nodded as she left.

He leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes for a moment as heard the sink turn on. He opened them and dared to look down at where he knew his injury was. Fresh red bloomed under the suit, it wasn't as bad as when he first got the injury, but with him already running on low blood, it was a problem. 

He placed his hand on the area and winced. He’d need to do something about it before he could deal with this whole thing but when Pru returned with a glass of water, and a pen and paper, it slipped his mind.

“Thanks,” He took the water and drank every last drop. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was till he actually got water. He looked back up at her and she just raised her eyebrows at him, but he took the pen and paper and focused on it.

He did a quick but accurate drawing of the symbol and he heard the sharp intake of breath she took as she sat down beside him. 

“What the fuck, Tim.” He looked to meet her alarmed eyes.

“I know. I need you to tell me where you know this symbol from.” He extended the paper to her and she took it with hesitance.

“How do you know about this?”

“I don’t. That's the problem. I know you have a connection in the League and they are somehow related to this symbol. I have to know who it is. Please,” he could hear the desperation in the word, but didn’t care. “I have to know.”

She met his gaze and scanned his face; looking for something. She must have found it because she sighed and spoke, “Fine, but you have to be careful. I only have the contact because they owe me a shit-ton of favors, but they are still a part of the League.” He nodded and she continued, “Find a man by the name of Drakon, tell him Pru sent you and that wherever he owes me now extends to you.”

“Why,” he suddenly felt a wave of nausea and dizziness rush through him and blinked a few times to try and clear it away. “Why would he believe me?”

“One second," she stood and walked away, but he didn’t look to see where she was going. The dizziness grew and he shook his head as the darkness on the edge of his vision came closer. The next thing he knew it consumed him.

…

He woke with a pounding headache and the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling. He sat up quickly and winced at the pain it shot through his side. Memories of the past few moments he remembered came back and he looked around to find he was still in Pru’s apartment but she was nowhere in sight. 

The next thing he noticed was the missing suit top he used to have where now only an under shirt remained, and he lifted it to find fresh stitches and bandages on him. 

“You could have told me you were bleeding out,” he looked up to find Pru standing with a plate in hand and she placed it on the table near the couch he was laying on. “I hope you don't mind but I stopped you from dying. Eat.” She gestured to the waffles laying on the plate.

“Thanks, and sorry for passing out mid conversation.” He managed to sit up and grab the plate. He was starving and not about to object to the free food.

“You almost die, and apologize.” She scoffed, “You did get blood on the couch, though.”

He gave her an apologetic look.

“Whatever, I’m not staying here much longer anyway.”

 Were it not for the food stuffed in his mouth he would have responded with an “I know.” He had no idea how he would explain that one. Though, if there was anyone in the world who he could tell about the time stuff, it would be her. Still, better not to, just in case. 

He finished the waffles and drowned out the hunger that still remained. His head did feel a little clearer though. “How long was I out?” He was afraid of the answer.

She sat beside him, “Eleven hours, and twenty-six minutes.”

“Shit.” He was so screwed when he got home, but with the plan that was forming in his head it would still be a long while before he returned. 

“I would have woken you but you just wouldn’t. If I didn't see you breathing I would have thought you were dead.”

He huffed a laugh before remembering the importance of this. “I gotta go. Uh,” he looked around the room, “you don't have the rest of my suit, do you?”

“It was filthy and bloodsoaked, and with you being out so long I had time to wash it.” She left the room and returned with it, no longer covered in blood.

“You're too good to me.” 

She smiled at him and tossed him the suit, “I know.”

He pulled it on; taking longer than usual so as not to tear his stitches again.

“Here,” she handed him two pills and a water, “for the pain. You’ll need it if you're going where I think you are next.” He took them and drank the rest of the water. She bent down and picked a small fabric bag with something inside off the table, “Give him this when you find him. He’ll know it’s me.” 

He took the bag and headed for the window he’d previously broken. He looked back at Pru standing behind him, “Thank you for everything. I owe you.”

She tilted her head and crossed her arms, “you can repay me by not dying. You're headed to a bad place Tim Drake. Be careful. ”

He gave her a smirk and opened the window, “always.” 

Chapter Text

“Bruce,” Dick looked across the dark cave at the figure hunched over the computer, furiously typing. “Just go to bed. It’s Tim; if he doesn't want to be found he won't be.” 

It had been over 24 hours since Tim had gone missing and they’d found nothing. After spending hours at the Watchtower trying to figure out where he went via Zeta Tube and failing they’d gone back to the manor to see if maybe he just came home. They found an empty manor. Dick felt sick at the thought of him being all alone somewhere, but there was nothing to do. Tim could hide his tracks better than any of them. 

He wouldn’t stop looking, but he had to sleep eventually; a sentiment he was currently trying to instill in Bruce. He came back from trying to chase down Tim during the meeting looking rather pissed, ordered all the Bat affiliated people to come with him, and said that the meeting would continue without them. That was when Dick knew something was wrong.

He walked up behind Bruce to see him combing through facial recognition software, and sighed, “B, come on.” He didn’t respond. “Bruce.”

“I have to find him,” The voice that finally responded was cold and distant, as if he barely even recognized Dick was there. 

Dick paused for a moment then came around the chair and leaned on the desk where Bruce might be able to see him better, if he ever looked away from the screen. “We will, but you have to sleep. The scans will continue while you do.” He didn’t bother to say that Tim was too smart to be caught by one of them and probably had a million preventative measures in place for it, because he knew Bruce already knew that. 

The typing stopped for a moment, “Did you find anything with the symbol?”

They had been focusing their attention on what they think made Tim freak out and run away. It was the only hint as to where he had gone. 

“I’m still looking; Jason is too.” Bruce hummed a little at the mention of Jason. When they’d told him what happened at the tower he flipped, then when they brought up all the other weird things that have been happening with Tim lately he nearly lost it. In any other circumstances they would not have mentioned it, but for the sake of the investigation, it could be crucial information, and Jason's help was needed. Dick knew he was probably going to attack Tim with questions when they found him.

“We’ll all keep doing everything we can till we get him back, but—” 

Bruce cut him off and leaned back in the chair, Dick looked at him and noted his eye bags that were worse than usual, “I know, it’s Tim. It’s just that— you didn’t see him Dick,” Bruce finally looked up at him, “he looked terrified. I know he’s in trouble. I should have done something sooner.”

“We tried, he just kept running away.” Bruce huffed a small laugh before it disappeared completely. 

Dick hadn’t seen him like this in a long time. They needed to find Tim soon, not just for his sake, but theirs too. “Go sleep, Bruce. I’ll keep looking.” 

A long silent minute passed and Bruce stared at the screen as it combed through faces and camera feeds. He finally stood and began walking, putting a hand on Dick's shoulder as he passed, “Night, Chum.” 

“Night, Dad.”

…

The ice cold wind and snow blurred Tim's vision so much he couldn’t see five feet in front of him. He knew he was close though so he wrapped the coat he bought on his journey here tighter and continued on.

It had been almost two days since he'd left the watch tower. He would have gotten to Nanda Parbat faster but in order to avoid any detection or tracking he’d had to take some odd detours.

As he got higher up the mountain the light began to dim. If he was caught out in the open at night, in a storm like this, chances were he wasn’t making it through the night. The thought washed away as a distant outline came into his vision. He was here. The fear lingered though; the journey was the easiest part of this mission. 

He was nearing the door when he stopped walking and slipped a knife out of his suit under his coat. He had already gotten too close without interference and had suspected he’d been spotted miles ago. 

A flash of darkness caught his eyes, but the snow hindered his view of it. He stayed where he was. An obvious thump was heard behind him and he turned around. His face was met with an arrow pointing at him. He stared at the man masked in black—one of Ra’s assassins—and didn't move. He had no intention of breaking into the place. 

Tim slipped the knife out of his hand, and dropped the small pack of food and water he’d brought with him for the summit. He then sank to his knees and brought his hand behind his head. A hood took away what little he could see in the storm and he felt hands grab his arms tightly and they started walking.

A few minutes later the pain of the cold disappeared and he heard his feet on more solid ground. He recognized the turns they made as the assassins holding him lead him though the fortress, so he didn’t bother trying to memorize them.

They stopped walking and a leg kicked the back of his knee hard and he fell to his knees. He didn’t make a sound at the impact and stilled himself. He pushed away any emotion he had left stirring when he made his way up the mountain and just hoped that it continued though this whole ordeal. The thought of the last time he was here crept around him and he nearly shuttered at the memories. He didn’t though, he couldn’t show weakness here. He just had to get what he needed and get out.

Light flooded his vision as the hood was torn off his head. He took in the room and the assassins that littered the walls before looking at the man in front of him that he had so foolishly hoped he’d never see again.

Ra’s al Ghul smiled down at him, “After how you left last time you were here, I did not expect to see you again so soon, Detective.”

He used to feel a sense of pride at the nick-name, but now Tim fought the urge to lunge at him from his place on the ground, but that was a fight he wouldn't win: hungry, tired, injured, and surrounded by assassins. 

Tim stared up at him and felt the old urge to bow his head in the back of his mind but ignored it. He wasn’t here to train or serve. He didn’t even care if he locked him up, so long as he found this Drakon guy and got what he needed. 

“Oh that? I hope there are no hard feelings?” Tim smiled up at him.

Ra’s took a step closer and Tim’s heart sped up a little and he cursed himself for it. “You robbed me, and blew up my bases.” Tim stayed silent while he watched Ra’s assess him. “Impressive,” Tim held back his shock at the word, “but you still betrayed me. After everything I did for you.” Tim felt a sense of uneasiness as Ra’s face hardened. “Why are you here?”

Tim had spent the whole way up the mountain preparing for that question. “I need your help.” He swallowed the shame that came with asking him for help again, but if he didn’t, Jason and Damian would face the consequences, and he couldn’t let that happen, not again. 

He watched as amusement filtered over Ra’s face, “You use and betray me, and yet you dare ask more for help. After how things ended last time, why would I trust you again?”

“I’m not asking you for your trust, I just need a favor. I'll give you anything you want.” Tim knew it was a bad idea to say that, but he meant it. There was no escape plan, or plot to blow anything up this time, he couldn’t risk it. 

Ra’s stayed silent and assessed him, clearly deep in thought. “Can I hear this ‘favor’ before I agree to give it to you?” 

Tim considered for a moment that if he said who he was looking for he could endanger the man after he left, before remembering that this was an assassin who would sooner shove a knife in his heart then help him. “I need five minutes alone with one of your assassins.”

If Ra’s was surprised he hid it well. He looked over Tim at the assassins behind him, as if he could figure out which one from that description alone. His gaze returned to meet Tim’s and he asked, “Which one?”

“Drakon.” 

Ra’s narrowed his eyes at him, “Why?”

“I can’t say.” Tim hoped it didn’t affect whether or not this worked.

He just stared at Tim again, but this time it was like how he did last time Tim was here, with that predatory gaze, and he wondered if maybe it was a bad idea to make his offer so broad. 

“Alright,” Tim froze as the words hit him, “you may speak to him.”

Tim wasn’t fooled by the ease of this, “And the price?”

Ra’s smile widened the slightest and he seemed to look at him even harder, “A favor for a favor. Whenever I choose to use it.” 

Tim considered for a moment, “It cannot put my family in harm's way.” He wouldn't save them just for them to get hurt because of him again.

“Of course not.” The way his words echoed in the room made him feel trapped. He hated being here, talking to him.

“You have a deal,” He sighed and closed his eyes to take in the fact that he had no idea what he just signed up for before meeting Ra’s far too delighted gaze again. He reassured himself that this was necessary. He had clearly messed the timeline up already and he needed to make sure that this was a loose thread that he cut. Otherwise, what was it all for?

“Good,” He reached a hand down to him and Tim suppressed a flinch at the movement. The hand wrapped tightly around the back of his hair and pain flooded the area as he tilted his head to look up at him. “There is just one thing I need to do before we move forward with the deal.” 

A fist hit his cheek and he hurtled toward the ground.

…

Tim’s vision flooded with green and a thick liquid blocked air from entering his lungs. He inhaled—desperate for air—but it only made it worse and he choked and spasmed. An awful rage suddenly flooded his veins and he felt nothing but it except the pain that came with it. He twisted and turned as his mind was clouded with that green. 

He suddenly felt the relief of cold air on his skin and started to cough. He realized he was floating as he spotted a ledge and clawed his way to the ground behind it while the green stuff came flooding out of him. The pain and rage faded as it came out and he crawled farther onto the land.

All he felt now was confusion. He didn’t know where he was or how he got here. He began to panic when memories hit him. The last few months filled his head as he gasped on the ground. The moments before the green came last and realization hit him. He’d gotten the deal he needed, but Ra’s was clearly not over what he did to his bases and had gotten the retribution he so apparently needed. Tim didn’t care though, he didn’t care that Ra’s had broken probably more than half the bones in his body and whispered all the awful things he used to in his ear. It was worth it for what comes next. 

Shoes filled the edge of his vision as he spat out the last of the Lazarus pit that he had just healed in. Ra’s just wanted him to hurt, but could never give him any lasting damage, well except one thing.

“Your suit was too destroyed to repair, you may wear these.” Ra’s spoke as he dropped the classic black outfit of his assassin in front of him. His voice didn’t even sound like he had just beat the shit out of him, it was just calm as it usually was.

Tim, not wanting to think about whether or not he was wearing that destroyed suit right now, grasped the material, stood on shaky legs, and put it on. He was too exhausted to come up with something to say. He hasn’t slept since he left Pru’s. 

“You may meet with him now.” Ra’s turned to walk out expecting Tim to follow.

“I need my bag first.” He knew when he dropped it outside someone would bring it in.

“Fine,” He gestured at an assassin standing in the corner and they walked out. Ra’s continued walking with Tim trailing behind, trying to push away a lingering dizziness. When he’d come out of the pit last time he was here he didn’t feel quite so awful. The green he feels is also different. It's somewhere in a corner of his mind, lurking, and he nearly shook his head as if that could clear it. He also had never been so injured as today, when he went in. If he had gone in even 30 seconds later than he did, he probably would have died.

They reached a small room, and the assassin that was sent for his bag was waiting in front. He bowed when they approached and presented the bag. Ra’s took it then handed it to Tim, and the assassin left. 

“Drakon is inside. You have five minutes, no more.” Tim nodded then opened the door. 

A man with dark hair, looking nothing like a league assassin stood inside. He wore a red jacket and leaned against the wall, studying Tim as he shut the door behind him. 

“Heard you were looking for me. You know just because you make a deal with The Demon Head doesn't mean I'll help you.” He looked across the room at him with a bored look on his face.

Tim just reached into the pocket of the bag and pulled out a bag and a piece of paper. He threw the small bag Pru gave him over to him and he caught it easily.

He gave Tim a look then opened the bag dumping the contents into his palm. A thick silver ring fell out and he sucked in a breath. Tim had no idea what it meant nor did he care so long as it got him to corporate. 

“Where did you get this?” He demanded.

“Prudence. She says that whatever favor you owed her now extends to me.”

He scoffed, “Of course she did.” The tone in which he spoke it told him that he was no friend of his. “What do you want?” Tim was relieved he gave in that easy. The ring must have really meant something if he believed him just for having it. 

“I want to know what this symbol means.” He held out the slip of paper with the symbol he’d drawn while at Pru’s.

He bristled as if uncomfortable, “I’m not supposed to talk about it.” Tim just stared hard at him and he broke. “It's some underground lab. I had a hit who worked there a few months ago, and had to learn all about it. They make weapons, and do off the grid testing. Lots of illegal stuff they don’t want the government to know about.”

Tim had a hunch, he just didn’t know what to do if it was right. “What was the name of the lab?”

“I think it was Campus or something.”

“Cadmus.” He breathed.

“Yeah that's the one.”

Tim’s head was reeling, “No, you're not telling me something! I know there’s more. A name that ties to that symbol?” He was nearly shouting now. He didn’t get this part last time. 

Last time he’d seen the symbol he was holding he was looking at pictures of the building that Jason and Damian died in. He’d never seen it until that day, so if it was turning up now then something went wrong since he’s come back. He’d asked Pru for help in the future and she said she’d ask her informant in the league, but before he’d ever gotten the name of the person who killed his brothers, she’d disappeared. He was going to get it this time though. He had to.

Drakon straightened, “There is no name. Just the lab and the location.”

“Location?”

“I tracked the guy I was hunting for weeks. The lab is in Kansas in America. That symbol,” he pointed to the paper, “is for only that lab. To mark what they do there.”

Tim thought for a moment, his mind racing, “The man you killed, what was his name?” He was desperate now.

“Norman Wilcox.” 

Tim stilled, “He’s dead?”

Drakon laughed, “I always hit my targets.”

Tim suddenly became aware that he only had five minutes and flipped over the paper in his hand, and reached into his bag, feeling around. He pulled out a short old pencil and handed them to him.

“The coordinates,” He demanded. He took the paper and wrote them before handing them back to Tim. He looked down at them, when the door behind him opened. 

“Time’s up” Ra’s cold voice filled the room. He looked to Drakon one more time, gave a slight nod then turned to Ra’s. “Get what you were looking for?”

“Yes.” Tim shoved the paper in the bag— the numbers already memorized— then followed Ra’s out the door. “I don’t suppose you’d let me borrow your jet?” He nearly regretted it the moment he asked.

Ra’s peered down at him as they walked down a hallway before turning to face forward again. “If you answer one question.”

Tim didn’t think that would actually work. “Depends on the question.”

“You're different from the last time we spoke. In a way that only a few months isn’t enough to change someone.” He stopped walking and so did Tim as he turned to look down at him. “Why?”

Ra’s was probably the worst person to tell the truth to, but he would know if Tim came up with some crazy lie, and how he could think of some random thing that made sense in this context on the spot, so he did the next best thing and just twisted it a little. 

“I was shown something. A piece of the future, and it doesn’t end well, for anyone I care about. So now the only thing I care about is fixing it. Whatever I have to do to achieve that.”

He hoped that it worked, even if it sounded crazy, but it was almost so insane that it might work. After all, the truth was even more insane. 

Ra’s stared at him then nodded, “Set the jet to fly back on its own when you get there. Do not steal from me again. I will hunt you if you do.” 

Tim could not believe that actually worked.

They arrived in the storage area for the jet and he looked up at the man he feared so deeply in his bones but could never admit. He’d been incredibly lucky in how this day had turned out, so out of fear of messing it up he bowed his head once as the jet’s ramp lowered behind him. 

Ra’s didn’t smile but he certainly looked pleased. “I will be collecting my favor at some point, don’t think I will forget.”

Tim raised his head, “I know,” he turned away from him and boarded the jet. 

Chapter Text

Tim woke up to the sound of the jet beeping as he neared the coordinates he put in when leaving. He sat down in the cockpit and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He slept for more than half the flight and spent the rest thinking up what he was going to do next.

He had decided that going straight to the coordinates Drakon gave him was not going to work. He was nearly out of food, and the only clothes he had was the League gear Ra’s gave him. So he was doing the only thing he could think of that didn’t involve going home. 

He set the plane down in a large field of crops and powered all the lights off so they didn’t stick out in the night that loomed overhead. He put in the instructions for it to fly back to Nanda Parbat. He had no idea how it had any fuel after his flight here, but Ra’s hadn’t told him to fill it. 

He grabbed his bag that he’d had with him through his journey so far and slipped out the plane into the dark field, and watched as it lifted it the air and shot it the sky.

 He spotted the lights across a road ahead from the little town of Smallville, Kansas and started walking toward them. He slipped between buildings easily and stayed out of sight from the few cars that went by on the roads. The dark outfit helped him blend in though.

It took him half an hour to reach where he was headed and he spotted the familiar mailbox. He snuck around the white fence lining a barn and went behind the house next to it. He strained his eyes to see where he was headed in the dark night. Without any city lights, the darkness was harder to navigate than in Gotham. 

He reached the back of the house and spotted the window he was looking for and began climbing up the house, taking care to be extra quiet. When he reached the window he tapped on it once, not breaking it like he did at Pru’s.

No sound came from the other side so he did two more small taps. A slight ruffle sounded from inside and he shifted himself so that his feet were resting on the ledge under the second story window and he gripped the sill tightly. Suddenly, the curtain moved and Kon was standing there staring at him. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something but Tim quickly put a finger over his lips and he stopped. Tim gestured for him to open the window and after a moment of gaping at him he did.

Kon pulled the window up and Tim slipped inside landing on silent feet. Kon waved his hands at him as if to say ‘what?’ and Tim just shook his head and looked around the room. He spotted a piece of paper and pencil on a desk and grabbed them, then wrote on it and held it up to Kon.

Is Clark here?

He read it then shook his head and Tim sighed, “Ok we can talk now.”

“What is going on? Why are you breaking into my house?” Kon whisper-shouted at him.

“Hey you let me in.”

“Wha- are you kidding me? You’ve been missing for days. Everyone's been looking for you. Where were you? Are you okay? What on earth are you wearing?” Kon was clearly freaking out but Tim just fell backward on his bed and let out a breath.

He was exhausted even after sleeping on the plane and he missed laying in this bed. He looked around the room. It had been so long since he’d been here, with him. His eyes moved from scanning the walls to Kon standing there in the middle of the room gaping at him.

“Tim!” He stared expectantly at him and Tim rolled his eyes then sat up on the bed.

“It’s a long story. I was hoping you could help me.” 

“Of course I can help you, let me just call Bruce and he can—”

“No!” Tim stood. “Don’t tell Bruce I’m here. Don’t tell anyone, please.” 

Kon looked at him nervously. “What is going on?”

“I just—,” Tim took a step closer, “I just need you to trust me, okay?” 

Kon sighed, “Okay, what do you need?” Tim almost smiled at how easy Kon trusted him and he felt his heart warm a little, but ignored it.

“Could I borrow some clothes?” He sat back down on the bed as Kon watched his every move. That's when Tim realized that he was with Kon alone in his room, at night. The last time that had happened had been under very different circumstances. 

“Yeah, sure,” he turned around and went to his closet and started pulling out things. “Here,” he walked over to Tim and handed him a t-shirt and sweatpants. “Will this work? He asked.

Tim took them and smiled, “Yea, thanks.” He looked up at him and Kon smiled before quickly turning around.

“Um, you can use the bathroom.”

Tim was still staring at him, “What?”

Kon looked back at him, slightly flushed, "To change.”

Tim stopped staring and stood up, “Oh yea, thanks.” He went to the door and peaked his head out, scanning for anyone in the hallway. Once he was sure it was clear he quickly slipped across the hall to the bathroom.

Once inside he put the clothes on the counter and looked in the mirror. He looked tired, but not as bad as he did in the future. When he never took a night off, and defended the city alone. He’d never been so tired in his life. This was nothing compared to that.

He also noticed the slight green sheen over some of his skin in certain lighting. He knew immediately it was from the pit and shuddered at the thought. The green fog he’d been ignoring suddenly flaring up but he closed his eyes and waited till it faded. 

“Kon?” He whispered once his head was clear. He knew he could hear him from his room.

He heard a slight knock at the door and he opened it to see him standing there.

“You okay?”

“Do you mind if I shower real quick?” He had to get this green stuff off him.

Kon smiled, “Yea that's fine. You do kinda smell odd anyway.”

“Hey!”

He laughed and Tim found himself watching, unable to look away.

“Just hurry though. I don't know when my dad’s getting back.” 

Tim nodded and shut the door, quickly turning on the shower and taking off the black clothes. He stepped inside the shower and let the water run down his neck. He turned the handle to make it warmer when the cold suddenly reminded him of what the pit felt like and he shivered. 

Once he had gotten all the leftover pit goo off him and dried off, he put on the clothes Kon gave him. They were a bit big, but he didn’t mind and liked the sight of his clothes on him more than he should. This shouldn’t be what he was focusing on right now.

He grabbed his old outfit and slipped out the door, scanning the hallway before quickly stepping back inside Kon’s room. 

Kon was standing by his bed with a plate in hand. “I got you some food. Knowing you, you probably haven't eaten in a while.” 

“Oh, thanks.” He took the plate and pulled out the chair of his desk and sat down, placing the plate on the table.

“Are you going to tell me what's happening now?” Kon sat on the bed near him.

Tim stared at the plate. He knew he was hungry and it had been a while since he’d eaten, but after the weird feeling he had gotten in the bathroom, he didn’t feel like eating right now, so he looked back up at Kon and found him watching him. 

“I can’t.”

“Tim, something is clearly wrong. Why did you come here? Did something happen with your family?”

Kon had no idea how much had happened with his family, but it wasn’t worth the risk to tell him. He couldn’t screw anything else up. 

“No, my family is fine. I’m just investigating something and I didn’t know where else to go. I’m sorry to bother you with this.”

“No,” his voice sounded panicked, “It’s not a bother. I’m glad you're here actually. I haven't seen you much lately.”

Tim winced at that, “Yea sorry about that I just…”

“It’s connected to whatever this is about isn't it?”

Tim looked at him and shrugged, unable to come up with a lie.

Tim sat up straight as he heard a slight whoosh from outside.

“It’s my dad!” Kon whispered and started looking around.

“He can’t know I’m here!” He stood up at the same time as Kon, both looking panicked.

“Here, get it in the closet.” Tim didn’t question it and slipped inside and Kon closed the door. Darkness wrapped around him and he slowed his breathing. He knew there was a chance Clark was listening, but he probably wouldn’t notice if he wasn’t paying attention. He wasn’t expecting anyone to be here.

A minute passed and he heard a muffled knock on Kon's door and a faint voice. “Kon.” He could tell it was Clark.

He heard the door creak open and pictured Kon standing there in front of his father trying—knowing him probably failing—to act normal with him hidden in his closet. 

“Hey dad.” His voice came out a little too high and Tim nearly smacked his head. “How was work?” 

“Good,” there was a hesitation before he spoke again. “Why are you still awake bud, don’t you have school in the morning?”

“Uh— couldn’t sleep?” It sounded more like he was asking Clark then telling him. 

“Mhm,” Tim could hear the skepticism in his voice. “Okay, just get to bed soo—” His voice suddenly stopped and Tim’s heart skipped a beat. “Kon?” His tone was lower.

“Yea, dad?” Kon’s voice was far too optimistic.

“Is there someone in your room?”

A long silence was held in the air and Tim could feel the tension from the closet. 

“No,” he practically squeaked the word out and Tim cringed, already knowing he was done for. He heard a sigh then footsteps as the door creaked again. “Wait!”

The closet door suddenly opened and there stood Clark Kent looking down at him.

“Hey Clark!” He said like they were just seeing each other at work, and not being caught hiding in his son’s closet… wearing his clothes… in the middle of the night. Tim knew how it looked, but the truth wasn’t much better.

Clark looked shocked as if he just realized it was Tim he was looking at. Clark stared at him for a moment longer then looked down at his clothes. Tim watched his eyes widened the slightest bit, then he turned and looked at Kon who was standing a few feet away. 

“I- uh,” He almost laughed at the look on Clark’s face, but knew it probably wouldn’t help the situation. Clark shook his head as if in disbelief before a new emotion crossed his face, "Aren't you missing?”

Kon cut in, “He’s not missing, he’s right there.” He pointed at Tim.

Clark shook his head and pinched his nose with his fingers, looking alarmingly like Bruce when he did it. Maybe the two had been spending too much time together lately.

“I need to call Bruce.”

“No!” Tim and Kon both said at the same time.

He paused and looked between the two of them again. “I’m not equipped to handle this alone,” he said.

Kon looked confused and Tim spoke up, “It’s not what you think.”

Kon walked to stand beside Tim and Clark looked down at the both of them, looking like he wanted to run away. “Okay?”

Tim’s mind raced to come up with an answer that wouldn’t incriminate him. Kon said something before he could, though. “He was just looking for a place to stay for the night, and get a change of clothes. I’m sure he’ll go back to Gotham and talk to Bruce in the morning.” He looked at Tim, “Right, Tim?”

Tim had to stop his eye from twitching but decided to go with what Kon was saying, “Exactly. As soon as the sun rises I'll be heading right back to Gotham.”

Clark hesitated then spoke, “They’ve been freaking out for days. I really think you should go back tonight. Bruce is worried sick.” Tim didn’t know if he should believe him. In the future he’d disappear for weeks and all they’d say when he got home is that he should have called. Lost in that thought he didn’t respond and Clark just pulled out his phone and turned toward the door, “I’m just gonna call him.”

“No, don’t,” Kon pleaded but Tim just grabbed his arm and tugged him closer while Clark was looking away. Kon looked at him confused, but Tim put a finger to his lips. He pointed to himself, then Kon, then the window. He just stared at him, so Tim did it again but made a running motion with his fingers. Understanding dawned in Kon's eyes and glanced worryingly at his Dad’s back before looking to Tim for reassurance. Tim did his best to look desperate and the next thing he knew he was in his arms and wind was zipping by his ears as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

Another moment passed and then the wind stopped and he realized he was gripping tightly over Kon’s shoulders with his head resting on them. He opened his eyes and looked down. All he saw was clouds and tightened his grip on him.

He felt Kon’s laugh reverberate through him, “You jump between buildings all night, don’t tell me you're afraid of heights?" Despite the joke he felt Kon’s grip around his lower-back tighten slightly.

“At least there’s a chance I’ll survive that fall, I can’t even see the ground from up here!” 

“Yea okay,” Kon laughed as he said the words and the wind started back up as he felt them moving. In a second they were hovering a foot above the ground and Kon slowly lowered them down. He felt his feet hit land but didn’t move his arms yet, still gripping on tightly. “You don't have to hold on anymore,” He whispered in his ear, softer than the words before.

Tim slowly loosened his arms then took a small step back, noting that Kon still had his arms around his waist. He paused when he realized his face was mere inches from Kon’s. He could feel his breath on his cheekbones and swallowed. 

“Tim?” He met his eyes and his breath hitched. 

For the briefest of moments he thought that just maybe, things could be different than last time, that there was a chance that Kon felt what Tim did and the timeline before this was just a fluke, but then he remembered how Kon looked at him the first time Tim told him how he felt. How his eyes flickered with something Tim didn’t want to consider, and how he had run away from him. That was the last time they spoke. 

The thought made time break the moment by stepping back. He thought he saw a hurt pass over Kon’s face but when he looked again it was gone. 

The rest of the world came into focus and he looked around. They were in a dark, empty field and city lights shown in the distance

“Where are we?” Kon didn’t respond and Tim looked back at him. He was just staring at him. “Kon?”

He seemed to snap out of it and looked around too. “Just outside Metropolis."

Tim nodded and scanned the city. He wasn’t anywhere near where he needed to be. “Your dad won't be able to find us?”

“He will eventually. We probably don't have much time.” There was a moment of silence, “Look Tim, maybe he’s right. Maybe you should just go home.”

Tim looked at him and shook his head, “No—”

“Think about it! I don’t know where you want to go next, but I’d bet it’s dangerous and you have no suit, no tech, and no weapons. You're smart Tim. You're the smartest person I know! So, what are you doing?”

Tim sighed. He knew he was right. He had no idea how he would even get into the Lab in Kansas without his tech, and he had no way of concealing his identity without his suit. The plan made no sense, but if he went home he had no idea when he’d be able to sneak away again after everything that happened. He had no idea how much time he had.

“I can’t.” He looked back up at Kon.

He looked like he was thinking then spoke, “Go home and when you're ready… call me, and I’ll take you to wherever you need to go. No questions asked.”

Tim stood in shock for a moment then considered the proposition. It might be the only thing that worked. He would go home and deal with whatever nightmare waited for him, then fix whatever he screwed up with the timeline.

“You’d do that?” He asked.

Kon smiled slightly, “Yeah. So, do we have a deal?”

“Okay.” Tim responded before he could reconsider it.

Kon smiled a little bigger and held out his hand, “then let's get you home.”

Tim reached for his hand.

…

Bruce stared at the frozen frame on the computer. It had been three days since Tim had gone missing and they were not any closer to finding him. The symbol Diana had shown through the video days ago now stared at him though the screen. He’d never seen it before and it seemed like no one else had either. He had exhausted every source he had but came up with nothing. 

“Anything?” A low voice echoed from across the cave. He looked up to find Jason standing there. He started coming around the manor more after Bruce died and came back. Bruce would even venture to say it made the whole experience worth it. He had slowly been talking to him more as well, they still fought, but not nearly as often. 

He sighed and rubbed his eyes that had begun to burn from staring at the computer screen so long. “No. Not a thing.” He looked back at the cursed symbol that was the reason his son was missing. “You?” He asked, knowing the answer.

“No,” Bruce could have sworn he heard the worry underlying his tone.

He was about to respond when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket to see Clark was calling him. He didn’t normally call at this time of night, so he answered without hesitation.

“Clark?” He hid any worry from his voice.

“Uh, I don’t know how to say this.” Bruce straightened at the words. 

A load whoosh came through the phone. “Oh come on! Kon!” He shouted.

“What is it?” He said, trying to get his attention back. Jason had walked closer to him now and was giving him a curious look.

“Well,” he hesitated, “I was calling to tell you good news but now I’m calling to tell you bad news.”

“Clark, spit it out.” He demanded. 

Jason waved his hands to ask him ‘what’ and Bruce took the phone from his ear and put it on speaker phone to keep him from leaving.

“So, I found your son, but now I’ve lost your son.”

Bruce stood from the chair and was about to respond but Jason beat him to it, “You found Tim?” 

“Jason?”

Bruce cut in, “Where is he?”

“Well that's the thing; I don't know. He was here with Kon at my house in Smallville, but then I said I was gonna call you and they disappeared.”

Bruce’s mind was already racing and going through the next best possible course of action. He turned to Jason, “Get Dick.” Surprisingly, he nodded and left immediately. 

“Clark, start looking. I’ll get the jet and the others and we’ll head your way.”

…

A minute later Dick came running down the stairs with Jason and Damian not far behind. He spotted Bruce near the jet with his tablet probably putting in the course directions. 

Dick could feel the nervousness running through him. Jason didn’t tell him much, but it was a lead and a hell of a lot more than they’d gotten in days.

He walked right up to Bruce, “You found something?”

Bruce didn’t look up from the screen as he spoke, “Kansas. He’s with Kon-el.”

Dick nearly sagged with relief. If he was with a super, then chances were he was in some way safe.

“Grab your gear, we’re leaving.” 

Dick didn’t hesitate to run to grab his stuff, Damian doing the same. Jason already had his. Damian hadn’t said a word since Jason told them, but he had a determined look on his face that made pride swell in his chest. He hadn’t said anything, but something between Tim and Damian had changed. 

The jet’s ramp lowered but before he reached the entrance a loud familiar whoosh sounded throughout the cave. He stopped in his tracks and turned around. 

His heart stopped and he saw Tim standing in the center next to Kon. Jason and Damian also froze when they saw him and he spotted Bruce come up next to him and suddenly his whole body stopped.

Tim stood there, without a single scratch on him and looking rather petrified. “Uh, hey guys.” He glanced at Kon who shook his head, and he wondered what that was about in the back of his mind. He was too focused on the fact that Tim was here and okay.

Suddenly breaking out of his trance, Dick rushed forward and wrapped him up in his arms before he could run away again. “Don’t ever do that again.” He was stiff and somehow felt smaller than he did a few days ago.

He held him for a little longer then he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked over to find Bruce staring at Tim in his arms. Dick pulled away and looked down to find Tim looking bewildered. Like a hug was the last thing he expected when he got home. 

Tim’s gaze moved away from him and he stared up at Bruce. Dick felt his heat tighten when he saw the way he tensed when Bruce took a step closer. B must have noticed it too because he stopped moving.

“Are you okay?” He asked and Tim stared at him like a deer in headlights.

Dick felt himself be pushed out of the way as Jason came up behind him and he saw Tim’s gaze snap to him. 

“You! You stupid fucking idiot!” He shouted then—so suddenly it shocked even Dick—he grabbed Tim’s shoulder and wrapped him up in his arms even tighter than he thinks he did. 

When he finally pulled away after a long moment, another figure slipped past him, this one smaller. He witnessed probably the most shocking thing of the night when Damian suddenly wrapped his arms around Tim’s torso, before quickly letting go then taking a step back and accessing him. Dick saw Damian narrow his eyes, swear he saw him sniff once, then he shook his head slightly. Tim gave him an odd look.

The interaction was interrupted when he saw Kon move in the corner of his eye and remembered he was still here. “Kon,” he said with suspicion, “what do you know?”

Tim snapped his head over to him, alarm hidden beneath his gaze.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, “he wouldn’t tell me anything.” He directed the last part more at Tim.

“He wasn’t with you this whole time?” He heard Jason ask from next to him.

Kon looked to Tim as if he could tell him the right answer. Tim spoke before he could, “No I wasn’t.”

“Where were you?” Dick asked, voice laced with alarm.

Tim just looked at the ground and scratched his head.

Bruce cut it, “All your injuries are gone. They couldn’t have healed that fast, not without… help.”

Realization dawned on Dick and his heart sunk as he realized what it meant. 

Damian spoke his thought first, “You were with Grandfather.”

Tim just watched them, as if looking for a specific reaction. All Dick could think about was what he told them happened the last time he was with Ra’s al Ghul. He couldn’t think of a single reason why he would ever want to go back. 

When no one said anything for a moment Tim sighed, “Look, I’m sorry for how I left,” he glanced at Bruce, “but I just had to do something. It was imperative I get it done quickly, but it’s over now, so maybe we could all just forget this?”

Jason scoffed, “You must be joking! You run off for a year to train with the worst person on the planet, you come home clearly traumatized," Tim gave him an offended look, “you start lying and keeping secrets, and now you’ve gone missing for three days with no explanation, and what? You want us to ‘forget this’?” He stared at Jason after he finished shouting at Tim. He didn’t think he had all that in him. He knows Jason cares, but he doesn’t usually show it like this. Tim clearly thought the same because he just looked at him wide-eyed in shock.

Jason looked at him expectantly, “Well? You better give us something, because you're not getting away with running away from me.”

Tim head was clearly racing, like he was trying to come up with something to say. He would have cut in, but Jason was right. They had let him avoid this conversation one too many times. 

“I—” he hesitated, “I blew up the League of Assassins."