Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

John Constantine blew out a plume of smoke as he stared at the Justice League. His eyes, casually scanning around the room, were probably showcasing his annoyance with the situation. Bloody capes and cowls. He’d wash his hands of the lot of them if not for the fact that he got paid ten grand per consultation.

And for Z, if they were on again. It built good will either way with her.

Still, this was the fucking stupidest sort of bollocks he’s heard in a good long while. And he felt the need to say so to the most powerful people in the world.

(Once you sucked the Devil’s cock a couple of times and/or had several ill-advised flings with King Shark, you stop feeling the fear of normal humans. Or even normal superhumans.)

“Summoning a deity from another world is batshit,” he said, eyes sliding over to Batman, who had been in a right bloody state the past couple of months. “And, yes, that is a bloody bat pun because I know that this whole fucking idea was Bats.”

Judging by how The Flash grimaced, he was right on the money. Listen, John wasn’t without bloody empathy. Losing one of his little birds to the unholy eldritch ocean of the multiverse was as good as saying that the kid was dead. But the man had taken his paranoia to a whole new level in the interim. He was pretty sure Bats needed time away from all this nonsense.

However, John was a magic consultant, not a psychological one. Even if he had some level of telepathy, he wouldn’t even try to touch Batman’s mind. That just seemed to spell a bad time for everyone involved.

But, still, summoning a deity was a dicey prospect at best. Summoning an alternate universe’s deity was another level of ill-advised bollocks.

“It is said that we need a god associated with both the Sun and liberation in order to stop this curse,” Wonder Woman said, crossing her arms. She didn’t look happy about this either, John noted. However, he could tell there was no talking her out of it. “This one is the only one that we could find within what few texts from other dimensions we have: Nika.”

Well, Sun gods were usually alright in general, so were gods associated with freedom. Z had him look over the curse as well, and it was a nasty bit of ancient magic, done in a dialect no one knew about anymore, let alone spoke. They had no Rosetta Stone in the wings for that.

Still a dicey game, but perhaps better than anything else they could have come up with.

“Zantana vouched for the summoning ritual,” Batman continued, tapping at a tablet. He sounded exhausted, but whether that’s from another of his kids being eaten by the cold and uncaring universe or just everyday wear and tear, no one could really say. Constantine certainly wasn't touching that emotional mess with a twenty-foot pole, not until Bats decided to do something with demons and/or necromancy. “Though she said that you were best at summonings, something about the art of negotiations.”

“Best done with beings that I, at least, have a fuckin’ understanding of,” the warlock groused, but pulled the papers closer to him. The ritual was straightforward enough, and given what he knew of the ill-defined “curse” that would essentially enslave the whole world to some slumbering, dark nasty, it should be removed. “Thing is, I won’t be able to send him back for a month.”

“A month?” one of the other brightly colored heroes said. John didn’t bother to learn their name. They all became the same sort of garish eyesore after a while, and the roster was always changing. 

He sighed, tapping some ash from his cigarette into a tray, “One of the ingredients needs to be picked fresh at a specific time and used quickly in concert with the ritual. No way around it. Interdimensional summonings are a fucking finicky business, mate.”

“A month isn’t so bad,” someone said, trying for positivity. It was probably Superman.

John rolled his eyes.

“Do the ritual,” Batman commanded. If he wasn’t footing John’s consultancy fee, then he would have told him to piss off, that he wasn’t his Da. But he was paying him.

While gods of freedom and the sun were generally alright enough, usually pretty fun at parties, there was some niggle in the back of his mind that said this could go either spectacularly well or spectacularly poorly.

Either way, John’s going to make sure that he will be booked and busy for the next month until he has to send the poor sod back. He certainly wasn’t going to babysit a god with the title “He Who Plays The Fool”.

“S’your funeral, Batsy.”

John stood to exit so he could gather the ingredients for the ritual. Either way, he was getting paid and he did his due-bloody-diligence, which was his good deed for the year. 

Here’s the thing, because there’s always one with Batman, isn’t there?

Tragedy is carved into his bones, into his story. There really isn’t a way to get around it or through it.

His parents were murdered right in front of him.

A tragedy.

His son was murdered as well, and he couldn’t save him.

A tragedy.

Every relationship he’s ever had, he ruined with his own two hands. Nothing can fix him. The Batman, because he can’t even call himself Bruce in his own head, is too far gone to fix. It’s a sacrifice made to save a city that doesn’t want to be. But he will fight the hopeless fight for The Mission because it's tattooed into his very soul at this point.

But he never expected to wake up from his trip through time.

He never expected to be told that Tim had saved him, but they lost him as well.

That Ra’s al Ghul did something.

There was no body, and there was nowhere on this Earth, in this Universe, that had Tim in it.

Tim lost him and saved him. Bruce lost him again.

Batman Inc. was a convenient excuse to avoid Gotham. He made sure Lucius’ place as CEO was secured. Dick was doing well enough as Batman, and Damian was his Robin. And Bruce wasn’t ready yet for a new Robin.

So he went on international missions and tried to pretend like he wasn’t avoiding home. He didn’t meet Jason’s eyes when Alfred insisted on weekly family dinners, barring the end of the world or extended trips. He lost another son, and he didn’t even have a body to bury. He failed Tim when Tim had never failed him.

And there were…things that happened. Things unsaid that Bruce didn’t know or understand, didn’t want to know.

He made up a lie about a motorcycle accident, a coma, paid off doctors who could be trusted, and spun a story that even had Vicki Vale backing off in the face of such clear grief.

The Batman was never meant to be happy.

At least, this Batman wasn’t.

The ritual required drums and paint, and the plant freshly plucked and ready to use. It was an odd sort of beat, Clark thought.

 Doom-Dut-Da-Da

Doom-Dut-Da-Da

But Constantine kept beating the drums as he chanted the summoning. As they got further into the ritual, splashes of color seemed to erupt from the instrument. Clark could feel the sort of strange staticky electricity feeling that always accompanied powerful magic. It left him breathless, like all the oxygen was being sucked out of the room, even though he could breathe.

And then a portal appeared, and someone was starting to be pulled through. The god? Clark thought it was the god. The chanting and the drumming seemed to have reached frenzied and frenetic pace. Almost like a beat of a racing heart.

Doom! Dut! Da! Da!

Then, on the other side of the portal, Clark heard a, “FUCK! CAPTAIN!” and “LUFFY!” and “What the actual hell?!” There were more voices in various exclamations and curses.

That was…unexpected. He could feel his shoulders tense at that, preparing for a fight. Nearby, he could see Diana, who tensed with him, and Bruce, who had been tense since the ritual started, go for their weapons.

Constantine continued the drumming and the chanting, though he looked a bit perplexed. Or, less perplexed, and more like an I told you wankers bloody so was on his lips.

In the light of the portal, a second person appeared, hauling the other back. But the hurried tempo of the drums quickly started to make everything feel like a summer camp with the weirdest game of tug of war as the centerpiece. The magic of the spell versus whoever was trying to keep the god on the other side.

“This is new,” Wally muttered under his breath, having taken over as The Flash while Barry was on paternity leave. It was only the inner circle members of the Justice League here. Clark could only agree, though, admittedly, he didn’t have a lot of experience with magical summonings of deities from other universes.

He could see from the corner of his eye that Billy, in his adult form, was biting at the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. Clark’s shoulders eased ever so slightly at that. If the presence from the other side was malicious, then Captain Marvel would be the tensest, besides Bruce.

However, the pull of magic was apparently too strong, as with what seemed like a mighty yank: the god and about ten other people who formed the human tug of war chain were pulled through the portal with a decisive bang on Constantine’s drums. The portal disappeared behind the group.

The motley assortment of folks spilled onto the summoning circle in a tangle of limbs and groans. Clark blinked, seeing what looked like some kind of fish person groaning underneath a large cyborg of some sort.

They were an assortment of bright colors, various states of being clothed, and an odd mishmash of styles.

“My dear Robin,” another voice said theatrically. “Your elbow is in my eye. If only I had an eye for you to take out yohoho! Skull joke!”

“Shitty cook fucking move! Your bony ass is digging into my kidney.”

“Fuck you, mosshead! Chopper, get your hoof off my cheek!”  

“YOU GUYS GET OFF OF ME!” bellowed a voice at the bottom of the pile. They barely had time to act before something expanded, which dispersed the bodies that had come through the portal. Everyone was flung every which way from the summoning circle.

A small furry creature in a hat landed in Diana’s arms, who blinked down at it.

It blinked up at her.

“Hello,” Diana said. Clark could tell she was melting. Wonder Woman was weak in the face of something cute and cuddly. The small creature stared up with wide eyes before jumping out of her arms with a yell and scampering to its comrades. It climbed up on the giant fish person, whom Arthur was eyeing curiously.

Clark could only hope that this wouldn’t end in a fight. It was always a pain to repair the Watchtower. And then they would have to redo a training module about property damage.

Again.

In the center of the summoning circle stood a young man, breathing heavily. His red shirt was open, revealing a harsh-looking scar in the shape of an “X” across his chest. He had old cut-off blue jean shorts, a bright yellow sash, and sandals. An old, beat-up straw hat with a red ribbon perched on his head. Sharp, dark eyes with a scar under the left one scanned the room as he took big, heaving breaths.

“That,” he said with all the gravity of a king. “That wasn’t very nice. Whatever you all did. Luckily, we were in port. Otherwise, something bad could have happened to the Sunny.”

Oh boy. This wasn’t going well already.

Damage control, Clark, damage control.

He put on his most comforting smile because, well, it was rude what they did. But there isn’t any sort of summoning check-in from what he was aware of. But something about this young man, the feel of his gaze, the tang of ozone, it had some primal part of Clark riled up.

He knew this was the god.

“Our apologies,” Clark said gently. “We’re in rather desperate straits and needed to summon the Sun God, Nika, to help us. And there is no warning for it.”

Constantine raised an eyebrow at the young man’s questioning look.

“Listen, mate, if I could arrange a time for summonings, then it wouldn’t solve all my problems, but it would stop me having to stay up until three am painting esoterica with chicken blood from the butcher.”

If they got through this okay, Clark was going to get donuts from that hole in the wall in Brooklyn and stress eat them on the globe of the Daily Planet offices.

Nika’s dark eyes blankly considered Constantine, then Clark, then the room at large. He was hard to read. It was different than Bruce’s blank face, which he knew well enough to read the microexpressions. With this guy, however? It was like there were no thoughts behind those eyes to read. There was a sort of terrible pressure in the air, pressing down on his shoulders, and it…

...

Disappeared as Nika’s shoulders relaxed.

He seemed to accept the explanation.

“Oh,” he stuck his little finger in his ear. “Well, why didn’t you say so? That’s me. I guess. Nika or whatever.”

“Luffy,” a voice said. “We talked about this.”

Everyone in the room froze at the sound of the voice.

Because that voice was familiar.

That voice disappeared six months ago when Ra’s al Ghul pushed him from a window with a mysterious device that caused him to vanish before he hit the ground.

Bruce’s voice was like a whip crack in the sudden stillness on the League’s end.

“Watchtower execute lockdown protocol Delta-Epsilon Three.”

Nika (or Luffy? He called him Luffy, was it really him?) and his crew seemed to tense as if expecting battle as the protocols engaged. Two figures, however, didn’t move. One was a woman with a Mona Lisa smile and dark hair and the other…

Bruce stepped forward, pulling down the cowl from his head. It’s such a rare occurrence that even amongst the core members, who knew his identity, seeing his bare face in the Watchtower was always a shock. 

Clark was very good at reading Bruce Wayne’s face. He could see something half like hope and half like heartbreak in the slight crease between his eyes. He felt a stab in his heart.

How cruel the world was that Bruce had to know the world’s worst sort of heartbreak. And the miracles tend to be harsher than the man could take.

“Tim?”

Timothy Drake-Wayne smiled.

He looked a little older. No longer the lean kid of seventeen, half insane from grief and desperate to find Bruce. (And did. He did find Bruce.) His hair was longer, a low-hanging ponytail. He was taller, the barest touch broader in the shoulders. His ears were pierced and his posture was open. In his clothes, he looked more like a cool skater punk than the teen CEO that everyone was expecting big things from.

He looked lighter, Clark thought, happier.

Like he looked before, the world kept on taking from him without stopping.

Tim smiled at Bruce, hands in his pockets, surrounded by this strange group that they had summoned from a portal. Working, apparently, with a god.

“Hey, Bruce. It’s been a while.”

Chapter Text

Five Years Ago

Monkey D. Luffy felt like his heart was going to burst from sheer joy and excitement. He found the best crew ever in the East Blue with Zoro, Nami, Usopp, and Sanji! They were going to conquer the Grand Line and get the One Piece. He’ll see them all fulfill their dreams and become the King of the Pirates.

He beamed, sitting on the Going Merry’s figurehead, eyes trained on the horizon. Behind him, he could hear Zoro’s gentle snores. Nami was turning the pages of a book. Usopp was fiddling with ammo for his slingshot.

Based on the time of day and his stomach starting to rumble, Sanji must be getting lunch ready! He really hoped that there was lots of meat on the menu. Luffy was about to get off to see how far into preparations Sanji had gotten or if Usopp wanted to do something fun when something weird caught his eye.

A bright red speck falling through the endless blue of the sky, like a bird that had suddenly had its wings cut. He stared for a moment before realizing that it’s a person. And they were falling from a high height into the ocean below.

That could hurt.

“NAMI!” he yelled because Nami was the closest thing to a medic they had at the moment. “GET THE KIT!”

“Luffy?!” she said, shocked. “What’s the matter?”

He could hear Zoro pop a sword with shink and Usopp panic in the background. But Luffy was staring at the figure falling, too fast. They weren’t slowing down. He wrapped his legs around the masthead of the Merry a few times to anchor himself. Before he shot out his arms to catch the falling bird-person thing in the distance.

They landed into his arms easily enough, but they were too heavy and too light at the same time. Luffy should have stretched his neck out, too, but Nami said not to do it because it freaked her out so much. And he didn’t want to get yelled at by her today.

He reeled his arms in hard enough that his legs snapped back with arms, sending both him and the rescued person tumbling onto the deck.

“Shit! It’s a guy!” Usopp cried. “What’s he even wearing?!”

“Is there anyone else falling from the sky?” Sanji asked, suddenly. “You have the telescopic lenses, man. Take a look!”

The stranger was dressed in a funny sort of costume, Luffy realized, ignoring Usopp’s negative response to anyone else falling from the sky. He pulled back the guy’s weird mask thing so he could get a better look at his face. There were some shallow cuts on his face, and he looked like he was Luffy’s age.

“He’s really hurt,” Nami’s voice was steady. “Sanji, I need some hot water to help clean these cuts. Zoro, go find some non-drinking alcohol as well. No fighting you two. We need to get him bed and clean these wounds, okay?”

Luffy leaned over the bird guy curiously. His eyes had fluttered open briefly at the sound of his crew’s voices. Hazy blue eyes stared back at him with the sweaty fringe of his black hair messily falling into them. He looked tired. The sort of exhausted that Luffy felt after a big fight like with Arlong, so he could get Nami back.

But it seemed like the sort of tired that not even a nap could cure. It was like the kind of tired he and Ace felt after Sabo…

Oh.

What happened to you?

Who hurt you?

Something in Luffy squirmed as Nami and Sanji took over the stranger’s care. His cook had bundled the stranger up into his arms carefully as his navigator directed them to the medical room that they set up on the Merry.

Luffy stood by with Zoro and Usopp, watching them go.

But there was a voice in his heart that said one thing: He’s mine.

And he trusted that voice with Zoro, Nami, Usopp, and Sanji. It was the voice that made him and Ace and Sabo brothers. It was that voice that made him certain that he would be The King Of The Pirates one day.

This stranger was His now, Luffy had no doubt about that.

His Stranger’s name was Tim. It was the only name that they could coax out of him.

He didn’t know much. One moment he was being pushed out of a window by a creepy old guy, and then there was a flash and he woke up here. Maybe it was a weird Devil Fruit. It sounded like a weird sort of Devil Fruit that did that. He asked weird questions, Luffy thought. Tim didn’t seem dumb, but he didn’t know anything about the Blues or the Grand Line or Gold Rogers or any of it.

Everyone knew stuff like that.

Luffy didn’t know what to make of it, except he was interested now.

Tim fell asleep shortly after answering their questions. Nami said that they had to let him rest, even though Zoro got the squinty suspicious eyes and Sanji was frowning around a cigarette. Usopp, however, looked thoughtful, but didn’t voice anything until the two of them were alone.

(“I don’t know what’s going on,” he told Luffy on the deck. They sat side by side together, trying to catch fish for dinner for Sanji. “But I know liars. Whatever Tim knows or doesn’t know, he’s not lying about what he’s saying.”

Usopp wouldn’t lie about stuff like that. Luffy knew that already.)

Still, even with the suspicions, Luffy knew that this Tim guy was going to be His. He didn’t know what, exactly, he would be, but he knew it. So, when someone needed to bring Tim some of Sanji’s tea and broth, Luffy volunteered. He wanted to talk to this guy one-on-one.

Judging by Zoro’s nod, his first mate knew that too. He’d back up Luffy’s decision about their stranger.

Tim was awake and sitting in bed. He was wearing borrowed clothes from Usopp, Luffy thought. He looked up when the captain came in. He didn’t even eat his food, Sanji would be pleased.

“Luffy, right?”

He grinned, “Shishishi, that’s me! I’m the Captain.”

Tim tilted his head to the side, bright blue eyes watching him. It was almost like that Cat Guy’s eyes back on Syrup Island, except there was warmth in them.

“Do I call you Captain or Luffy?” 

“Luffy’s fine,” he said. He knew titles were important, but they weren’t the most important to him. He just wanted to be free. Everyone knew to listen to him when it mattered, so he was happy. “Here. Sanji made it so it’s the best.”

“Thanks,” Tim said, taking the tray and settling it on his lap. Luffy flopped down into the chair by the bed. He watched as the strange stranger ate a few spoonfuls of brother before turning to look at him. “Can I ask you some stuff that may sound silly to you?”

“Sure,” Luffy said. He said silly things all the time. He didn’t mind it if people said that sort of stuff around him.

“Have you ever heard of a place called Gotham? Or a country called the United States of America?”

They didn’t sound familiar to Luffy.

He shook his head, “No. Sorry. What weird names though!”

Tim frowned down at his broth, “I figured as much.”

He didn’t offer any further explanations, and Luffy didn’t push.

Tim would tell him when he was ready and not a minute sooner.

It would take Tim a couple of weeks to tell Luffy the truth of everything.

(It was so cool: alternate worlds and heroes and all of it! And he used to be one! And it was so sad that Tim didn’t have a way to get home.)

Tim only said anything after sailing up onto the Grand Line and meeting Crocus and Laboon, and the agents of Baroque Works for the first time. He would reveal himself to be even better with a bo staff than Nami, and a tricky, sneaky fighter with strange gadgets that he was trying to conserve. Or so he informed Luffy later.

“I can’t make them anymore,” he said tiredly when the captain asked. Luffy had followed him up when he heard Tim leave the men’s quarters for the top deck. They were sitting on the deck of the Merry, and the stars were shining down on them. “I’m from a different universe. Alternate dimension. Something like that. I don’t really know how to explain it without using a lot of boring math, but think of it like another world existing parallel to this one. There’s a lot more land and a lot fewer pirates and people who have powers but not from Devil Fruits. My mentor’s nemesis and I were fighting. I blew up some of his bases a while back, and he wanted revenge. But I won and I beat him, and he threw me out a window and did something to me. Now I’m here.”

Luffy would never fully wrap his head around the whole “different universe” thing until he actually saw it for himself. But he could tell that it was far, far away from here, even past the end of the Grand Line and the One Piece.

So he knew that Tim was stuck.  

“Is it your dream to get home?”

Dreams were important. You could tell a lot about a person by what they wanted the most in the world. It fueled them. It powered them. It made life worth living to have a dream to chase after with your own two hands.

And Tim looked so…lifeless at that. He was so sad, and Luffy hated it. Tim always seemed so sad and scared, like a skittish animal who didn’t know how to trust people yet.

“No,” he said. “I don’t know if I have one anymore.”

Makino once said that sometimes people got so lost that they forgot their dreams. Some, she told him, get so focused on taking care of others that they don’t take care of themselves. And that’s how some dreams die.

It’s why Luffy would never be a hero, only a pirate. Heroes always seemed ready to sacrifice their dreams for others. Dreams are the most important thing ever. He would never sacrifice his and would never expect his crew to do so for him either.

He stared at Tim, who was looking up at the moon. Tim, who didn’t have a home to go back to. Tim, who was a great fighter and had a sly sense of humor that could catch Sanji and Zoro off guard. Tim, who listened to Nami talk about navigation stuff. Tim, who would egg Usopp’s stories on in his careful way.

Tim, who was Luffy’s even if he didn’t realize it.

Luffy wasn’t a hero.

Luffy’s a pirate. And a pirate always takes what could be precious to them without regret. He could tell, this was important.

“If you’re stuck here,” he said with a grin. “Then join my crew!”

Tim stared at him for a moment, seeming caught off guard by the genuine request.

“Really? I…I don’t know this world. I don’t know what I can bring to the table.”

Honestly, for someone so smart, Tim was really dumb about the important things.

“Tim can do a lot of things and he can learn lots of things,” he said. “But mostly I want Tim around.”

The other boy flushed at that, looking surprised and heartbroken.

He stared at Luffy for a long, long time.

“Really?”

It was quiet and heartbreaking, the sort of brittleness that reminded Luffy of Ace and Sabo in the moments they let their guards down. It was fragility that he knew how to navigate in his own way. It was a heart-constricting sort of thing, but he wasn’t going to let his friend’s heart break any more.

“I don’t say anything I don’t mean,” he declared. “You can be our planning guy!”

Tim laughed at that, still looking fragile, like how Nami did in the moments after saving her from Arlong.

“Tactician,” he corrected. “You want me to be your tactician.”

“Yeah!” Luffy nodded. “That’s what I said. So?”

Tim looked around the Merry like he was really seeing her for the first time.

“Pirates, huh?” he murmured to himself.

But there was something relenting in his tone, Luffy grinned wider and jumped in place excitedly. He knew that he had won him over. This was going to be so cool!

It was going to be so much fun!!

“Pirates,” Luffy agreed with a wide grin, bouncing where he sat slightly. “And I’m going to be King of them one day! And we’ll find your dream along the way too, Tim.”

Tim looked at him before nodding.

“Alright then,” he agreed. “Let’s be pirates.”

Luffy stretched his arms up and up and up as he yelled excitedly.

“YES!”

“SHUT UP,” Sanji demanded from below deck, “NAMI-SWAN WENT TO BED!”

“WAKE HER UP!” Luffy had wrapped his arms around Tim, who was laughing. “TIM’S JOINING THE CREW! LET’S PARTY!”

“I thought Tim was already part of the crew,” Usopp muttered, coming out of the men’s quarters.

“He is now!!! Let’s party!!!”

And the Nami tackled Luffy to get him to shut up.

They had a party anyway.

It’s after Enies Lobby with Robin safely home and war on the World Government declared that Tim would tell Luffy his dream. He had, apparently, been thinking a lot about it after seeing the fight with Usopp and having to sink the Merry and saving Robin.

“It’s a simple dream,” Tim said as they sat together, looking up at the endless sea of stars. “But I think it’s one I had since before I knew what dreams were.”

Luffy hummed in curiosity.

Once they were on the ship, Tim had told Robin that her name meant something else to him, that it was everything: hope and family and home. That he wished nothing else for her, now that she was here permanently, for her to have all of those things, now that she wanted to live.

“Tell me,” he commanded with the childishness and imperiousness of a king in the making.

“I want a family,” Tim said softly. “That just loves me for me. Back home, I had to put everything together, and things got too messy or I got too needy. I was…I was the neighbor kid who convinced himself that he mattered to them. And I…”

He closed his eyes and turned his face to the light of the moon.

“My dream is to belong with people who want me forever.”

Well, Luffy thought, Tim would need a new dream soon.

Because he would have to show him that he already had it.

“It’s a good dream,” Luffy said. “But I want you forever. And you belong here. So Tim’s dream is already fulfilled.”

“Become the King of the Pirates and take me to the end of the Grand Line,” Tim said, eyes gleaming bright and a smirk on his lips. “And then we’ll call it a fulfilled dream.”

Luffy grinned and laughed.

Tim was always so much fun when he got like that!

“Alright,” he agreed, laughing. “We can do that.”

Chapter Text

Tim should have known Luffy was summonable, but magic wasn’t something that was really done on The Blue Planet except in certain and annoying specific circumstances. Or if it was more widespread once, then the practice was long ago banned, or all the practitioners were hunted down and killed.

Same old, same old.

It was probably something horrible and tragic and would make Tim want to go spit on Imu’s fucking corpse. Not that Imu had left a corpse, of course. But the sentiment stood, he felt.

However, that didn’t change the fact that he overlooked magic from his own universe. It was something he was vaguely familiar with, so he knew his options and the players, but not something that he had thought about in years. Again, he was a little bit preoccupied. He never even considered for an instant that people from his world would have a way to learn about Nika and know how to summon him.

He should have, which was why he was internally berating himself.

This was Tim’s whole deal within the Straw Hats: tactician, spymaster, intelligence officer. He should have prepared better.

However, the fact that—to his crew—this strange group of people knew who Tim was, the rest of the Straw Hats relaxed ever so slightly.

“Tim?” Luffy asked, turning his assessing gaze onto him. “Is that…”

Huh, Luffy remembered Bruce’s name: that was a surprise. He would have been more willing to bet that Alfred’s name would be the one that the Pirate King remembered. After all, Alfred was the one with the food, and Tim had been craving Alfred’s prize-winning chocolate chunk cookies for a solid year and a half at one point.  

“His mentor,” Robin said, voice deliberately kept even for those who didn’t know her. But Tim could see her gaze turn to him, assessing and checking in. He loved her for it: his best goddamn friend in the whole crew. He nodded his head ever so slightly, and everyone seemed to relax fully once Luffy did.

“Oh! Well, why didn’t you say so?” his captain grinned at him.

Tim couldn’t help but smile back, even with every eye in the room on him.

“And that stuff he was shouting about?” Zoro asked. “Delta whatever.”

“Blackout protocols,” Tim replied. “A lot of heroes here keep their identities secret. It stops recording devices if someone is taking their cowl or mask off.”

He turned to look at his mentor.

Bruce looked tired. There were bags under his eyes that were more pronounced than he would usually allow. Though Tim guessed, no one except those who knew how to read him realized it. He looked more recovered from his jaunt through time, and weight had been put back on him. But there was a hollowness and twitchiness to him that made him worry.

Even though it wasn’t his job anymore, he would always be concerned about the health of Bruce Wayne. It was Tim’s job as Robin, and it was something that he couldn’t hang up when he pushed out of the nest.

“How long has it been for you?” Tim asked, stepping forward. He could feel his family, nakama as Luffy always called them, around him. They were watching, waiting for his lead here. Or Luffy’s should he decide that Tim’s lead was hurting him and giving him the selfish out. The captain was good about letting his selfishness act as a shield for others to hide behind.  

But Luffy always gave them the space and grace to navigate their own troubles.

“Six months,” Bruce said, staring at Tim, like he was cataloguing every change. Like he was trying to assess if he was still someone to trust or not.

It stung because, of course, it did. It always stung how conditional Bruce’s trust in him was. But what else could he expect from the man at this point?

Tim watched his mentor and adopted father carefully to see his next move. Though if it had been six months for Bruce, then he wasn’t expecting much in deep emotional growth. That wasn’t really what the Bat did, after all.  

It was time to see how Bruce would respond here. The cowl was off, which meant that Tim wasn’t dealing with The Bat. At least, not fully. Parts of Bruce would always be the Bat now. It wasn’t a clear delineation between man and mask anymore. Though Tim wasn’t sure if there was anything so clean-cut.

He knew Bruce, the man had an emotional bandwidth of a teaspoon. But Tim was hoping for a hug or something. Or was he going to protect himself with a veneer of professional distance that had characterized a good part of their relationship? Until Bruce decided to move the line.

“Report,” Bruce commanded, which, yeah. Of course, he did. He needed that wall, the protection and safety of the Bat, especially with his children. They could hurt him the most, after all. They could destroy him and, in turn, the Mission.

Ugh.

Tim rolled his eyes as Sanji tensed near him. He could see the other man wanting to jump in and defend him. He could see Franky frown with his massive arms crossed. Who knew what sort of other faces his friends were making? The majority of them couldn’t really keep their emotions out of their faces.

It’s been five years for him, however.

Tim didn’t answer to Bruce anymore, wasn’t a Robin to dance to his tune.

It warmed his heart that they were willing to defend him so. But Tim was secure in his place in the crew and in the world. He had a lot of time to think about things. Five years allowed for a lot of self-reflection and growth.

“It’s been five years for me,” he said simply. “Ra’s sent me to a dimension known as The Blue Planet, largely ocean-based. This is my crew. You summoned our captain, who is an avatar of the Sun God, Nika. We didn’t know what was going on. I didn’t think that Nika was known in this universe or that he could be summonable. I’ll need to figure out a way to stop that.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t fun,” Luffy said, arms crossed and pouting. “It felt itchy and weird.”

“Not without establishing a going rate anyway,” Nami added, rubbing a bump on her arm from the rough landing. Tim could see the beri signs in her eyes. “And we will be charging for pain and suffering in gold. Gold’s good everywhere.”

Tim could hear Usopp’s slightly nervous voice telling the navigator not to charge Tim’s weird family, but it was more rote than anything that needed to be listened. Idly, he wondered if the Black AmEx he had still worked. If whatever Luffy needed to do was done quickly, then maybe he could take his crew around his world for a bit.

Tim had loyalty to the Bats, once. And he still does, out of familial obligation more than anything else. But his loyalty to his crew superseded it all. They had carried each other through Hell, but they had also made so many good days that the memories of them feel like a tattoo upon Tim’s skin. He’s not going to share the obvious weakness of a few crew members to the Justice League.

“But,” he said. “I wasn’t the primary objective. Maybe we should go into the reason why you summoned my captain here, shall we?”

Bruce stiffened at the use of my. He caught on the underlying message of his words. Tim was very good at these sorts of games, picking his words so carefully. He had to be as Luffy’s intelligence officer after all. It wasn’t a slight to the man, of course. But their partnership was a dysfunctional mess that got more confused as time passed by. He wasn’t sure where he stood with the man, so he had to decide where he stood a long time ago.  

At the end of the day, Tim had been Bruce’s partner, not his child, not really. And he made his peace with a lot of things.

How Robin was taken from him. How the other Bats treated him. How he had treated the other Bats instead. How losing his Dad, Kon, Bart, and Bruce so close together had affected him and how Tim acted in the aftermath of it. His parents own neglectful actions. And the other little mental and emotional scars.

He made his peace with them. Tim could admit he was no saint either. He did things he wasn’t super proud of. He had the benefit of hindsight, of course, and time does dull the ache of old wounds.

He had moved on.

Still, staring at his past, it was throwing Tim off ever so slightly. But then he could see Luffy’s eyes watching him. He could see Nami’s too casual posture. He could see Usopp with his chin held up, even with the slight shake to his arms.

The Straw Hats are here with him, and it made it easier to breathe as a result.

Bruce pulled up his cowl, and Batman was in his place. Tim sighed.

He wondered, sometimes, if the older man ever got tired of hiding behind a mask?

Tim did, so he stopped.

“Blackout protocols disengage,” Batman said, looking around the room to heroes and pirates alike. “Let’s talk.”

There was a quick round of introductions (and a glare at some of his crew to behave, thankfully, the Brook did not ask anyone about their panties) and Sanji fawning over Wonder Woman before bumming a cigarette off of Constantine.

It was a simple enough mission on its face, Tim had to admit. Some sort of spell that would see the world enslaved to some dark force. They needed a Sun God who liberated, and that fit Nika pretty square on the money.

He hated how simple it was because usually that meant there was a chance for some fuck ass shit to be had as well. Missions with magic, in Tim’s experience, rarely went smoothly.

Granted, no one had to deal with Luffy’s own brand of Looney Tunes chaos that Gear 5 generated either.

Luffy sat through the briefing with a blank stare before looking at Tim. No one was thrilled about the month-long stay, but Constantine was clear that they would be back at the same time that they left, maybe a second or two passing. And that while there were scientific methods to send them back, it was safer to say and do the proper spell in a month or so.

Things got a little screwy otherwise if you didn’t do the proper return spell. From what he knew of spellwork, that thought process tracked. Magic was finicky.

Tim hated magic sometimes.

But he knew that Luffy wanted his thoughts here.

“It seems straightforward, Captain,” Tim said, falling into formality. People tended to underestimate Luffy, even though he’s the Pirate King and freed the world of Imu’s clutches. The Justice League didn’t know about the whole they’re pirates business, and Tim would prefer to keep it that way for now. “Magic rarely is, however, so there may be something that will go screwy. You’ll get to punch something either way.”

“I do love punching things,” Luffy agreed, spinning in the seat. “I want meat after, though.”

Nami’s eyes twitched at Luffy preferring meat as payment instead of money, but they’ll let her negotiate until her heart’s content. Tim almost wished he had standing in the Wayne Enterprises boardroom, if only to sick her on the Board. She’ll get them well compensated so they have enough cash to take home. Gold bars could be made into beri easily enough.

“Meat?” One of the Lanterns asked.

“Food,” Tim said. “But mainly any kind of meat. A party would be nice. It tends to be customary.”

“Yeah! We’ll do that. I’ll defeat this magic-thingy and then we’ll have a big party!”

Tim could see the looks the other members of the Justice League were giving each other. He had a guess as to what they were thinking, that his captain was a fool or a moron. Luffy didn’t care about what people thought of him, but Tim would not have them say a bad word about his captain.

He looked up and glared. Tim wasn’t in possession of a Conqueror’s Haki, which was fine with him. Even Luffy shuddered a bit under the force of Tim’s Batman-esque glare, perfected over the years. It had the effect he wanted, as some people flinched as if Tim had read their minds and heard the less-than-kind thoughts they were having about his captain.

“Parties aside,” Nami said. He could see the money signs in her eyes. “Let’s talk monetary tributes. We don’t save the world for free, you know.”

“My associate will handle negotiations for the price,” Tim said pleasantly. “Nami is correct. We have upkeep of our ship to take care of, and treasure hunting only covers so much. You don’t want to see our grocery budget. Sanji truly works miracles.”

“Damn right,” Sanji said. “And Nami-swan is our best negotiator!”

Nami grinned widely as Tim grabbed the tablet and other documents to go over with Luffy and some of the others in more detail. No need to watch Nami charge the Justice League. 

She had it well in hand. 

Bruce didn’t know what to make of anything, and he hated it. Because there were gaps in his knowledge and variables outside of his control that made his teeth set on edge.

He needed to have all the answers. He needed to plan for every eventuality, and everything needed a contingency. And he didn’t have all the answers here with Tim back and these odd people who claimed to love his son. Who Tim loved enough to protect them from Bruce because the lack of information was information in and of itself.

These people had his son’s trust and love, and this person, the avatar of a god, had Tim’s loyalty. And that was a powerful thing, a dangerous thing in the wrong hands. Tim’s loyalty could produce miracles, much like how Dick’s could brighten the darkest corners of Gotham, how Jason’s could make answers appear from unwilling mouths, how Damian’s…

Well, only Dick could truly answer how Damian’s loyalty worked.

Just as Barbara could be the one to answer for how Stephanie’s loyalty was as well.

Three out of five Robins, Bruce, had given you their utmost trust. And how did you squander it?

(The explosive fights with Dick, Jason’s poison green eyes, and demands of death, Tim’s own polite distance now…

Five years.

His son had been gone for five years and had made a whole new family.

Did he even try to come home? Did he even try to look?

Bruce doesn’t know how to ask without it sounding like an accusation. He never knew how to handle Tim’s anger. Dick and Jason were similar in that with their explosive tempers.

But Tim was quiet in his anger, and Bruce never knew how to handle that quiet anger.)

The girl with orange hair (Nami, her name is Nami) is currently setting terms of service because they expect to be paid to save their world. And Tim is just letting it happen. Letting her negotiate a price for such things.

(They had consultants whom they paid handsomely for their services. But something about this was rubbing Bruce the wrong way.)

Because he planned on going back with them after the month. He was home, but he wasn’t planning on staying home.

Tim wasn’t even looking over at him. He didn’t even stay at the table.

His son, who was a grown man now (twenty-two, Tim wasn’t seventeen anymore, he was twenty-two), was bent over the tablet and maps and paper files with some of the motley crew. The cyborg was looking interested in what Tim was saying and every now and then said “SUPER” in a loud voice before quieting down. The god-captain, Luffy, was bouncing on his toes, but listened to his son. The blonde with the distinctive eyebrow and the giant fish-person were nodding along to what Tim was saying. The man with a prominent nose was frowning down at what looked like a slingshot.

The swordsman (why did his name have to be named Zoro of all things) was staying with Nami, as was the reindeer creature, the fucking skeleton, and the woman who screamed danger to Bruce’s senses.

He knew their names, but maybe Bruce was being petty in not using them. Not when they had stolen his son from him, not when they were the reason that Tim was clearly not staying.

(Five years. He lost five years.)

The fish person leaned down to ask a question to Tim, who shook his head, and the man with the Pinocchio long nose gestured at something in response. Luffy laughed a bright shishishi like it was escaping between his teeth, unable to be contained, unable to wait for him to open his mouth to actually laugh.

Bruce tried to focus on the negotiations at hand, but couldn’t. He was distracted by what was going on in the other part of the room. He let Clark and John Stewart handle them instead, used to working with alien races.

He needed to let Gotham know what was going on.

How could he even explain this?

Tim laughed.

(Bruce hated these people, just a little, for what they took from him.)

Chapter Text

Three Years Ago

“So Stealth Black, huh?” Tim asked, sitting next to Sanji, who considered his Raid Suit. He still didn’t know what to make of it, what he wanted to do. “I was Robin and, well, Red Robin. Not exactly original, but I was being petty about it.”

Sanji consciously did not react. They weren’t exactly a deeply sharing crew when it came to the traumas that tattooed themselves on their bones. Luffy didn’t care about who they once were, only who they are now. And there was something freeing in that, that they weren’t defined by their pasts. Until, however, they were defined by their past as the whole fucking mess of Whole Cake Island proved.

Sanji had a lot of apologies to make to his crew.

Still, Tim was even more reticent than the rest of them. Sure, he told outlandish stories or dropped sudden bombshells as a shock tactic. He always supposed it was the whole “alternate world” thing. They had ideas of instances in his childhood and some of the oddities of Gotham, but no true picture of it, except that Thriller Bark reminded him of that place. But there was a difference, he supposed, between living it and hearing about it. You couldn’t taste food based on a description alone; you needed to experience it. Perhaps, this was something similar.

He couldn’t really imagine what it would be like to be a superhero.

Tim was a pirate now, so it didn’t really matter.

“Robin, huh?” he asked. He wondered if Robin-chan knew about that name. Maybe, he’d see her and Tim together at times, heads bent over and sharp smiles across their faces. He’d wonder if he hadn’t seen Franky and Robin-chan kiss a time or two when they thought no one was looking.

(He was glad that they had found something precious. Love was the most precious thing.

Sanji has it in abundance aboard this ship, with these people. He was glad that he was rescued, glad that he had some sense knocked into him.)

“I was the third,” Tim said, scratching one of his messenger birds on its head. He had a veritable army of them now flying across the seas to deliver messages and trained to locate him through some method. He had some sort of debt owed to him by the Queen of All Birds, whatever that fucking meant. The birds visited his network of informants, who either knew Tim or knew one of his aliases.

Sanji had to hand it to him. Tim spent his two years in extreme productivity getting up a network that would make the World Government drool in envy.

(He lost weight, Sanji noticed when they reunited after two years apart. He’ll need to fatten him up again.)

“Huh. Any powers?” he asked, rolling the device in between his palms. 

Were they like my family? He didn’t ask, but the question was still heard anyway.

“No meta heroes were allowed in Gotham,” Tim said as if by routine. “Metas were what we called people with powers, short for metahumans. I guess some got their DNA fucked with in utero, but it’s different for everyone. I never got it myself since most of our villains were largely metas. But Bruce was a control freak like that.”

Sanji wasn’t sure how he felt with someone following his father’s fucked up beliefs in Tim’s world, but nodded. There was a point to this. Their intelligence officer always had a point for his ramblings.

“I stole my two titles, codenames, whatever,” Tim said, flexing his fingers. “I wasn’t really wanted. Not really. I forced myself in because someone had to.”

Sanji snorted as he lit a new cigarette.

“Always a pirate, huh?”

The sharp, startled laugh burst from his companion. His blue eyes glittered under the moonlight.

“Something like that,” Tim said, tying a scribbled note to the bird’s foot. “The first time was because Bruce needed Robin’s light. That’s what it was Robin was the light to Batman’s darkness. But the second Robin died, and…it was bad. I had been following Batman and Robin around for years, taking pictures, but I was doing a lot of first aid on muggers and stuff to make sure he didn’t kill them. I tried everything else first before taking the Robin suit. I never wanted to be a hero.”

Oh.

There was a lot to process there. Sanji would definitely be returning to that Tim’s predecessor died, and that his friend was running around (from what very little context clues he gathered) a fucking dangerous city as a young kid. And that he actively had to stop people from being murdered by his future mentor.

He’s going to put a pin in all of that for later. Definitely something to inform Mosshead at least, fucking hell.

“I thought I needed the suit,” Tim said, letting the bird fly off. “I didn’t. I thought the title Robin meant something, and it did for a time. Now it doesn’t. Your brother may have been trying to do something nice, but you’re amazing without the suit, Sanji. I’m strong without Robin or Red Robin. I’m still me. Do you get it?”

He looked down at the canister. Now he saw what Tim was getting at.

It always made him feel awkward; how well the younger man could see him.

“I really fucked up, though,” he said instead.

“You did, but not as much as you think,” Tim said. “You were trying to protect us and Zeff. Trust me, it was definitely healthier than what I did when I spiraled. When I thought I was trying to protect people, too.”

Sanji didn’t think anything of what happened on Whole Cake Island could be called healthy, so whatever Tim did when he spiraled was probably something he did not want to know about.

“I’m sorry,” the cook said, because he had apologies to make to his crew. Luffy had already forgiven him for everything (too easily, too quickly, too seeing the best in Sanji that he didn’t even know he had, it was like the sun, his Captain, using light to disinfect all the rotten parts of him).

Tim looked at him with eyes that knew far too much and understood even more.

“Apology accepted,” he said easily. “I get it.”

And, yeah, under all of that talk, Sanji did think that Tim got it.

Five Years Ago

“Two of my brothers tried to kill me,” Tim said in lieu of nothing to Zoro. Like it was something that needed to be said out loud, at least once.

Zoro usually took one of the night watches, and Tim’s past, apparently, had fucked with his sleep schedule even now. He had appeared from below deck a couple of minutes ago and joined him in the Crow’s nest. He brought tea, which was nice. It was prepared as Zoro liked it.

Tim noticed stuff like that.

“Any particular reason why you’re bringing that up?” he asked, after allowing a moment for the statement to set in.

“Nightmare,” Tim said, looking up into the sky. He hadn’t drunk his own tea. More like he made it for something warm, for something real to hold onto. The shit cook wouldn’t be pleased if he found a mostly finished mug, but Zoro could slam it back if it got too cold.

Tim had nightmares quietly, Zoro noticed. He tensed as stiff as a board, like he had long since learned no one would come when he cried out in his sleep. He slept better with someone next to him. Given Luffy’s propensity to not stay in his own hammock was more often than not. When Zoro left for his shift, he noticed that Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper had fallen asleep in the middle of a card game and were a mass of limbs on the ground.

Tim would never ask for someone to sleep near him or for the contact. There were pieces that he could read in his crewmate that screamed of a lonely and neglectful childhood. Zoro could relate, after his parents died, the relatives he lived with just didn’t care. They let him run roughshod, and no adult seemed to really give two shits about what happened to him.

No one did until Sensei, not really.

“And it was about a murder attempt?”

“Funny how the ones when you thought you were safe stick with you the most,” Tim said softly. “In that it’s not really funny at all.”

Something flared in Zoro’s chest, hot and protective, at the younger man admitting that. There was really no place in the world that was safe. But the Merry felt that way; this group of people had felt that way.

“So your brothers,” he began, trying to imagine Tim with siblings. He wondered what they looked like.

“Adopted brothers, it’s just easier to say brothers.”

Made sense.

“Tried to kill you.”

“Two out of the three that I had. Jason tried to kill me three times. It’s where I got the scar on my neck. He tried slitting my throat once. Damian tried twice, which I honestly preferred over the whole…”

“His whole?”

“I get that he was raised by assassins, but it was his personality that set my teeth on edge more than the murder,” he paused. “Is that fucked up?”

A lot of things that Tim was saying right now would probably concern someone like Nami or Usopp, but it was making a lot of things make sense for Zoro. Also, Tim didn’t want comfort or someone fussing over him. He just wanted someone to listen and agree that what he went through sucked.

He could do that.

“I mean, I get annoyed when we have to deal with the possibility of someone poisoning us versus a full-on fight,” Zoro said. “I don’t think we have a good barometer of fucked up.”

He felt Tim’s body weight rest against him. The mug of tea was next to him, half drunk. His eyes were half closed. Zoro kept still.

“Damian cut the line of my grappling hook,” Tim said quietly. “That was what I dreamed about tonight. It was my fault. He found a list that I kept of people who could break bad, and he was on it and…stupid. I was stupid. I always had to have a plan.”

Luffy called Tim his tactician. Making plans was what he was supposed to do. Asking him not to make one was dumb. Zoro was probably sure Tim had a plan to take down most of them, if they really and truly betrayed the crew.

It was a comforting thought. But the swordsman could admit that he was also a deeply fucked up individual.

“You do have a plan,” Zoro said, gently. “It’s what makes you good at your job. You even try to plan for Luffy’s everything.”

“I don’t want to die by falling.”

Tim had fallen into their lives: a red speck into Luffy’s waiting arms.

But he also had been pushed out of a window, and his line had been cu,t and there was always a horrible moment before you hit the ground where you realized what was happening, Zoro supposed. Tim was one of the smartest members on the crew, a lot went on in his head, it must have been agony for him to fall with how fast his mind worked.

“Luffy would catch you,” Zoro said because the captain would. “So would the rest of us.”

And Tim looked so young there. With the Captain and Chopper as a comparison, it was hard to forget that he was also seventeen—Luffy’s age—one of the younger members on their admittedly young crew.

“You really would,” Tim mumbled, already drifting off to sleep. His demons excised to the night air and Zoro’s ears.

Well, not just Zoro’s ears. They’ve had someone listening for a while now.

He waited a few minutes to see if Tim stirred, but he was asleep and deeply so.

“You know it’s rude to eavesdrop,” he said softly, knowing that he would be heard. “I don’t care, but the witch would. I guess.”

A hand appeared on the crow’s nest, and Luffy gently rocketed up into the night, landing on the top of the mast. He balanced on that small point with the fearlessness of an acrobat and seriousness of the grave.

“Tim had a nightmare,” he said.

“Mmm.”

Luffy had a blank expression on his face as he looked at their tactician. Zoro, however, was learning to read those blank stares. He could see the anger in there for what he just heard. He could see the concern.

“They’re never getting him back,” his captain declared with the gravity of the king that he will become. “We’re keeping him.”

The swordsman couldn’t have said it better himself.

Pirates were selfish creatures, after all.

But Luffy was the right kind of selfish.

Zoro could only grin.

Three Years Ago

“You should talk to him before you go,” Tim said to Sabo. Robin had to duck her head to hide her smile as she watched Franky repair himself. She had tried, of course, when her friend appeared at the door.

They all knew how much Luffy would love to see Sabo. Even as injured as their Captain was, he would want to see him. Sabo, she thought, may be a little nervous. Like he was worried about the fragile bridge that had been built between them would shatter like glass.

However, Robin knew Luffy. And glass, if tempered right, could be surprisingly strong. The bridge wasn’t as fragile as Sabo feared.

He was a miracle to her beloved captain.

“I don’t want to…”

“It doesn’t matter what you want here,” Tim said, cutting to the core of the matter.

Pirates were selfish, after all. They could be selfish in regard to each other’s own wants. Robin chuckled at that, and Franky laughed, muffling it behind his hand to quiet the noise. She could hear some confused noises from their companions.

And it was so rare that she had seen Sabo look poleaxed like that.

“It doesn’t have to be for long,” Tim said, almost gently for him. He wore it, being the intelligence officer for the future King of the Pirates. A spymaster, some had been calling him. Mainly because he knew when to manipulate and when to be genuine, this was the latter. Sabo would have sniffed out the former, Robin knew.

She could see the Chief of the Staff of the Revolutionary Army weaken slightly. And she knew Tim could as well because his blue eyes sharpened.

(If her mother had more children, Robin would wonder, would she have a brother who looked like Tim? With their black hair and blue eyes, they could pass for siblings. Though Tim was fairer-skinned than her.

Even so, she had him now. They weren’t siblings. Their relationship wasn’t like that.

The whole crew was entwined in a queerplatonic relationship, even if most didn’t realize it. Robin had kept an eye on customs for large group marriages for the day Luffy asked. For as much as sex and romance didn’t interest her captain, and as much as he prized freedom above all, he would have liked the idea of marriage.

A promise to never leave each other alone again.

That would be a wonderful day, she had long ago decided.)

“I have an older brother,” Tim said, appealing to the older brother in front of him. “Who I loved more than anything in the world. Even if it was for a couple of seconds, when I was sick or hurt, it still mattered to me that he woke me up and checked on me. It’d matter to Luffy too.”

“You said loved,” Sabo said.

“He took something from me. Something that was his to take, but I wasn’t ready to give. I still love him. But he…he abandoned me in the end. Or it felt like it anyway,” he looked off, out the window. Robin bloomed an arm and ran a hand through his hair. She could see his mouth quirk upward.  

Tim loved physical contact and hated asking for it. So, they gave it to him freely and without concern; he’d let them know if he didn’t want to be touched. But he always leaned into it so hungrily.

(Touch starved is what Chopper’s books called it.)

“I still love him, just not more than anything in the world. It’s a difficult burden to put that sort of love on someone,” he finished.

Sabo looked at Tim in consideration.

Who raised an eyebrow.

“It still mattered. Those memories are still precious. Make another one with him.”

Robin leaned back into Franky’s comforting mass. She was careful of his injuries, and he shifted to accommodate her. Memories were so precious. She hoarded them like gems: of her mother, of her home, of Saul, of the Straw Hats, of this moment.

Sabo woke Luffy up.

It was like dawn breaking through the clouds, Robin thought. Her captain’s smile at seeing Sabo’s face was like the dawn.

Tim smiled and leaned against her, reaching out to pull Zoro closer to them so they could rest.

Five Years Ago

Luffy’s new crew was something amazing in the making, Ace could tell. They were unrefined, but they would be something special once they learned and grew as time passed. And it clear that he loved them, his dumb little brother loved them all with everything in his too-big heart.

And they loved him back. Even when Luffy was being an idiot, they loved him.

Once he's caught Blackbeard, maybe he’ll try to visit Yamato again. He did have a promise to keep to him and Tama after all. He would love to hear about Luffy’s crew. Ace could practically see the sparkle in his eyes. It made him warm in a way different from the constant fire of his Devil Fruit.

Yeah, soon as he handled Blackbeard, he’d go see Yamato and Tama. See what he could do to help them.

“You’re a good big brother,” the skinny pale kid with too knowing eyes said. Tim, Ace remembered, his name was Tim. His Vivi-approved Alabasta desert clothes were in shades of red and gold, making him look like he was the one with the flame powers. The cook—Sanji—had smirked and said something about the clothes they found him in. Tim flipped him off before changing.

But still, the compliment made Ace’s heart feel too tight and too big all at once. He tried. He tried really hard to be as good as he could to Luffy. After Sabo and even the murder attempts, it felt like it was the least he could do. He loved him so much. He wanted his brother to have the world.

Because he knew it, in his very bones, his little brother was gonna be the Pirate King, even if he teased him by saying Pops would be it. Maybe Pops would be it first, but Luffy would get the title at some point. It was like a certainty of the world to him at this point.

“Well, that’s nice of you to say.”

“It’s a fact. You’re a good big brother, and he loves you a lot.”

Ace could sense a but coming.

“But…”

“But nothing,” he said before tilting his head at him. “Well..”

Ah so there was a but. The kid was staring up at the endless stars in the sky above Alabasta.

“You remind me of someone back when he was gentle. He had a fire in him, too, except this was more metaphorical,” Tim paused and considered his next words. “It got away from him. And it led to his death. I suppose what I’m telling you is to be careful about that sort of fire. The one not associated with your Devil Fruit could burn you a lot worse.”

Ace thought of Thatch’s body and Blackbeard. He breathed out through his nose. The kid wasn’t saying anything that Marco hadn’t said to him either before he left. The only difference was that the first division commander was a lot less polite about it than Luffy’s crew member was.

“I need to see it through.”

Tim looked at him, and there was understanding in his eyes. He nodded toward where Luffy was sleeping.

“For his sake, then, if nothing else. Be careful.”

Like Ace thought, his kid brother put together a good crew.

“I’ll try,” he promised.

(Ace thought of that conversation a lot in Impel Down and on his way to his execution.

He should have listened to the warnings.)

Chapter Text

Tim was honestly relieved that this big battle, or whatever, that would happen when Luffy goes to break the curse, was taking place somewhere fairly far from civilization. When his captain went into Gear 5 things got a little weird, the property damage got astronomical, and he wasn’t sure if the power of cartoon physics wrecked my home could count as an Act of God for most insurances.

Ugh.

He had to think about such things again. No one on the crew had the concept of insurance claims. Tim was going to have to drive that lovingly into their skulls in addition to figuring out a few other dozen little issues of them being stuck here for a month. It was fine. He had a plan, and he may have hacked into half a dozen known villains and/or villain sympathizers bank accounts and had some fun with their money.

(Anything to honestly ruin Lex Luthor’s day was a good day for Tim Drake. God, he hoped that bald fuck tried something. Tim was slightly more hinged the last time they talked and had, possibly, better morals.)

Either way, property damage. It was something that Tim, mercifully, didn’t have to worry about. Because, honestly, he would have had to convince the League to play, let’s not damage a town/city/major metropolitan area or whatever the hell. And he would have to convince them because they didn’t know what Gear 5 could do, nor the rest of the crew.

They were about to get an education.

So, he doesn’t have to think about insurance claims. Except he also was because now he was digging up five-year-old memories, irrelevant because of his memory, but still. It wasn’t like Sherlock and his fucking Mind Palace.

Luffy wasn’t a known superhero or villain, so they definitely weren’t using super insurance in this hypothetical scenario. Tim wasn’t super thrilled that they were in a desert. If he was going to be back home for a month, then he hoped Ra’s wouldn’t appear like an oil slick. If he did, then Tim would have to handle him.

Or, even better, he’d just toss him to one of his crewmates. Tim was pretty sure they had a list of names of people they would either want to beat up or fuck with based on his limited stories. The reverse was also true. He was still using his network to fuck with Sanji’s brothers from time to time. And then there was what he did to the Celestial Dragons after Imu and the Five Elders fell.

A man has to have his hobbies after all. Though that whole Celestial Dragon thing was practically a group project, except one that everyone did their part. Tim was unsurprised to find that their family trees were practically a straight line. He wasn’t going to make a reference to a certain boy wizard and his TERF author, but he was definitely thinking about it.

The real pain, as always, was Bruce analyzing everything. It was amazing that Luffy hadn’t used his proper title of King of the Pirates, but Tim knew when that came up there would be words from Bruce. He would be judged for turning to piracy.

It would suck.

Sure, Tim would explain. He doesn’t mind being tied up in the Lasso of Truth and sharing all the good they did. They were pirates but they weren’t dicks. Everyone was able to follow basic kindergarten rules and whatnot. But would it matter, really? It would just confirm things that Bruce has thought about him or prepared for. Like Tim had broken bad.

Tim was, more, Chaotic Neutral-Good-ish.

(Dungeons and Dragons, he had to introduce his friends to D&D. Oh, he wondered if any of his favorite podcasts finished their campaigns. One or two were close to the end. That’s fun. He can catch up on things.)

And Bruce would just use Batman as an excuse, as a screen, so he didn’t have to really deal with his family doing something he didn’t like. Because that’s what he did.

It was a pain in the ass more than anything. Bruce’s weird need to control mixed with his C-plus parenting. At the very least, when he snapped out “report” like he was all of thirteen again, Tim didn’t immediately fall back into old habits. It proved to him that Bruce wasn’t in control of him anymore. That he wasn’t a Robin under all of him. That Tim hadn’t been supplanted, like he feared that Bruce was allowing himself to be by the mask.

(“Always a pirate,” Sanji had said on the way back from Whole Cake Island.

Tim stole both of his superhero identities. Maybe that’s what he was always meant to be: a pirate.)

The League had fought over the fact that the crew wanted to join Luffy in his fight. Or, well, they talked around each other. Of course, they did. They were unknown variables to them, and they needed to be watched as a result of that. Not that they realized that they weren’t unknown to them, Tim was very free with the information he shared about the heroes of his world.

After all, Luffy greatly admired heroes, and they all indulged their Captain in their own ways. How could they not?

Tim handled it, of course. He did, after all, know what different heroes could do, and he knew his crew. It had been five years for him, but he remembered how to get older heroes to do what he wanted with the right words. Right now, he has made it clear that it is best if the Straw Hats support their captain in combat. He talked about how they were unfamiliar with Luffy’s abilities, and the crew knew the terrain with Gear 5 in play. Or when he went full Nika, whatever they wanted to call it.

Bruce wasn’t too happy about it, but what else was new? Clark and Diana were easier to get on his side, probably because they felt bad about the summoning thing. Wally had been quiet, and Tim was ninety percent sure that Dick knew he was back. And the Lanterns (Stewart and one of the newer ones, though Tim couldn’t place her) were staying neutral. Constantine was chain-smoking in the corner and looked like he hated his life, which, from what Tim knew of the man, was probably par the course.

Still, once everything was settled, payment agreed upon, Tim being slightly guilted into going home to Gotham with his crew, and Luffy (and the others) finally realizing they were in outer space and the freakout over that, they went onto a zeta beam for the curse site.

Which, again, to Tim’s relief, was not near people.

They were in the desert.

“Reminds me of Alabasta,” Zoro said, watching as Luffy considered the Giant Glowing Rock of Evil. “You think they have those giant scorpion monsters? That was some good eating.”

Honestly, they were. Sanji had spiced it with something he bought at the bazaar that tasted a bit like tajin.

“Nothing like that exists on Earth,” Tim said as he cracked his neck. “We’ll probably be eating Alfred’s cooking soon enough.”

“Now that’s someone I’ve been looking forward to meeting,” Sanji said, stretching out his legs. “I want some of his recipes.”

The blonde was a world-class chef, but Tim had missed Alfred’s cooking. Of course, you do tend to long for what tastes most nostalgic. While their chef could recreate tastes from all the Blues and the Grand Line that the others had missed, Tim only had memories to guide him. If Sanji could recreate some of his favorite Alfred recipes with a proper recipe, then that would be amazing.

Jinbe was a solid presence at their back, “Franky said that he’d provide backline support with Usopp, though he’s not using his plant-based attacks. He said that he didn’t want to mess with the ecosystem of this world. Nami was not certain if her Clima-Tact would work with the weather here either, so she’ll be assisting Chopper in case of injuries.”

Tim will have to help her make any adjustments needed. Although he was guessing, she and Usopp, guided by anxiety and caution, decided to keep the true range of their abilities hidden, so some things weren’t witnessed by the rest of the heroes.

Just in case.

“If I had skin, then I would have goosebumps of anticipation, my friends,” Brook said delightedly. He was removing his sword from the cane. “Yohoho!”

Tim’s Observation Haki, passively on as ever, pinged his final crew member: body still and arms crossed.

“Robin?”

“Here,” the woman in question said gracefully. “They’re discussing us. This Justice League.”

Oh, she definitely grew an ear on someone to listen in. That's his fucking Robin. 

“Unsurprising,” Tim said, cracking his knuckles. “Superheroes gossip worse than grannies.”

And eavesdrop worse than little kids, he thought as Clark shot him a guilty look.

He merely raised an eyebrow back.

Tim was already making plans to see Kon, Bart, and Cassie soon. Tomorrow at the earliest, this day was already becoming too fucking long for his liking. 

“Okay, guys!” Luffy called cheerfully. “I think I’m ready to start!”

Oh, this should be fun. Tim pulled out his bo staff in anticipation.

Bruce didn’t like this.

He didn’t know this crew of Tim’s. Even though his son had vouched for their skills in battle, he said that the world they hailed from was dangerous. He said that they wouldn’t be able to recover to when Luffy went into Nika mode. Bruce didn’t know what was so different about this god, Nika, that would throw the Justice League off. But he seemed so certain of it, like it was a fact that they wouldn’t be able to handle whatever this god could do.

He bristled at the perceived insult, but Diana pointed out that they didn’t know what Nika could do. Tim did, and he had trained with him. He had fought beside him in battle.

So Bruce had to swallow his pride and stand on the sidelines.

Luffy had his head thrown back, sunlight seeming to focus solely on him.

And then Bruce heard it.

A drum, a drum like a heartbeat.

Like the drumbeat in the summoning spell that Constantine had used.

The air around them seemed to contract and tremble.

He could hear chuckles from the crew, not Joker-venom forced laughter, but something genuine and infinitely more fun. They were all grinning: wide and easy smiles of anticipation. Though some had an edge of nervousness and some seemed slightly more bloodthirsty, Tim had his head turned toward the sun.

He looked…

Freer.

(It scared Bruce. This unrestrained glee scared him.)

And the drums sped up and up until they reached a dizzying sort of array. The drums that felt like a wild and unending beat of…of…

Freedom.

Luffy giggled and then laughed: a deep belly laugh like it couldn’t help but bubble up. His hair turned white, and his clothes seemed to bleach themselves from the inside out. A mandorla, made of clouds, seemed to casually hang itself around him. Even from a distance, Bruce could tell that his eyes had turned a vivid and vibrant red.

The divinity was a striking sort of heavy presence in the air. It pressed down for a moment before lightning, crackles of electricity snapped and popped. He could see Clark shudder from the corner of his eyes, and even Diana, who had dealt with gods, seemed to take a second to shake it off.

The magic constricted closer as if to protect itself. Suddenly, surrounding it was an army.

“I hate being right,” Tim groaned out. “Of course, it would have fucking minions.”

“I don’t. When you’re right, then we get fights,” the swordsman said. He was putting a sword in his mouth. Why was he doing that? Where did the bandana come from? “Why should Luffy get all the fun?”

Fun, he called it. Bruce gritted his teeth. None of this was fun. Tim knew that. He knew about the sacrifice and hardship in being a hero. He knew the tragedy of it.

But, instead of that, Tim grinned at the swordsman.

It was something wild and carefree.

He was having fun.

“True enough,” he said, twirling his bo staff and running forward. “LUFFY! Give me a boost!”

“Same here!” called the cook, running after Tim.

“YEAH!”

And then Luffy jumped into the air before landing and the ground…

The ground contracted like it was made out of rubber.

Like it was in an old-fashioned cartoon: rubber hose animation and springy limbs. Suddenly, Luffy, Sanji, and Tim were in the air like a giant trampoline. It was absolute chaos. The others who were frontline combatants were also tearing through the soldiers that the magic had summoned. They looked well used to fighting in suddenly rubbery and bouncy terrain.

Well, at least they knew why the group thought they were needed here. This spoke of teamwork, even in the chaos. It reeked of Tim’s plans. He probably made them practice until they could handle the changes in the terrain and use it to their advantage.

Bruce’s eyes were on Tim, far up in the sky from the bounce. His eyes were firm on his son, who was falling back to Earth. He seemed to be totally unaffected by the free fall at a fairly fast velocity.

Until, suddenly, he wasn’t. He grabbed something from his back and was riding it, like a skateboard, through the air. The top of his bo staff seemed to be glowing with power. The air around him seemed to compress as energy erupted, almost like wings.

“Peregrin Bomb!”

Tim slammed the staff into the ground, and it exploded in a show of power and concussive force that took out fifty of the soldiers at once. Had Tim become a meta in the previous years? Had someone done something to his son? But then Tim was gliding on the hoverboard, an actual hoverboard, through the battlefield.

(Bruce can’t remember the last time he had seen Tim on a skateboard.)

He ducked out of the lasers from the cyborg and the slingshot projectiles like it wasn’t even second nature. Like it was something ingrained, natural as breathing.

And at the center of it all was Luffy, cackling away as the curse took a mortal form or something adjacent to it. Bruce was so focused on Tim that he didn’t even realize what was going on with that fight until he heard Clark choke back a laugh.

He turned to see the avatar of a god wind up his punch over and over and over and over again, like the back of a riverboat. He let go and the curse was punched once, twice, three,..no five…seven? It was going too fast. It was like seeing a cartoon go at a speed bag in a boxing episode.

“Holy shit,” he heard Wally mutter under his breath. “Tell me someone’s bodycam is filming this.”

Bruce felt scared at the wild, indescribable power before him. At how his son had changed in these five years…

How powerful these beings are.

“Wait,” he heard Clark mutter. He was listening to something that only Kryptonian hearing could pick up on. “Did he just call himself the Pirate King?”

Oh, Tim, what the hell have you gotten into?

All in all, it took a relatively short amount of time to defeat the evil enslaving magic and its protection. Tim’s pretty sure whoever activated the curse would hate how it was dealt with.

“He ate it,” Constantine said. He sounded rather gleeful over horrified. In the distance, Luffy, with his stomach comically extended, was being examined by Chopper. He occasionally burped out magical sparkles. The warlock was absolutely gleeful over everything that was happening in this moment. Whether if it was from intellectual curiosity, morbig glee, or maybe the magician was also fucking done with magical bullshit at this point in his career and liked seeing an ignoble end to fucked-up spell with zero consequences, Tim couldn't say. He was, however, internally betting on option three. 

“If you’re worried about him dying from it,” Sanji said, taking a cigarette the other man offered. “He won’t. He won’t even get a stomachache from it, the asshole.”

Luffy burped again as they all watched. Chopper frantically made a note.

Sanji blew out a plume of smoke, “This is a good brand. What kind?”

“Silk Cuts. I could tell you where to buy some, mate. Since you’re here for a bit.”

“Much obliged. I don’t think my brand exists. Not that I have a brand mind, usually just end up rolling my own out of necessity.”

“Never had the patience for that myself, but I do appreciate those that do.”

They were loose-limbed and pleased, in the way you only get after a good fight without death on the line, where you can just have fun. And it was a good fight, even if it ended with Luffy eating the curse. Tim was looking forward to the next time they linked up with the Heart Pirates, if only to see Law die a little inside at that. Ah, he was always so adorable when he got that expression on his face. Bruce was probably having a conniption over their joy of battle, but Tim loved the rush.

He was tired of not admitting it anymore. Or, well, not admitting it here. His crew knew that he also enjoyed a good fight. 

Usopp was asking Luffy how it tasted, and Nami had her head in her hands like she was despairing of all of them. Tim wished he could have the post-battle glow, but he needed to talk with the Justice League.

Jinbe, prince that he was, joined him. Tim could see what his crew was starting to do, protecting them in their own ways. He appreciated the large and solid presence.

“That was a good fight,” he said. “Though I will be glad to get out of the desert.”

Yeah, Tim supposed that Fish-Men didn’t do too well in these sorts of climates. But Jinbe seemed alright after everything.

“I hate the desert. Too much sand and I got stabbed so bad I lost my spleen,” he said. Plus, there was the trek through the Alabastan desert, which was its own fun flash of slightly tinged PTSD and randomly getting off track.

“You have lived a very odd life, my friend.”

“Don’t I know it. Sorry about any family drama you all are about to get sucked into.”

Tim had the feeling he was going to be making that apology a lot over the next month.

Jinbe shook his head, but it was fond.

“You are nakama, as the Captain says. That’s all that matters. They can’t scare us away.”

Tim ducked his head and smiled, pleased.

“Let’s go talk to the Justice League,” he said. “And then let’s get the fuck out of here.”

He really wanted a shower and a nap because, oh boy, sand had gotten everywhere.

His good mood was buoyed until they got back to the Watchtower, and he noticed the curious or concerned glances on the Justice League’s faces.

The first question that was asked, of course, came from Bruce.

“Why did your captain call himself King of the Pirates during battle?”

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Five Years Ago

Getting his medical bay set up was exhilarating and terrifying for Chopper, but he was buoyed by seeing Doctor Hiriluk’s dream come true and the thrill of acceptance with his new crew. He felt like he had finally gotten all his medications in order when a knock interrupted his thoughts.

He stood, surprised, by the noise before taking a deep breath. He studied under Doctor Kureha and carried Hiriluk’s dream deep in his chest. He could do this. He could be a true doctor on a ship and be a pirate and sail the seas.

“C-Come in!” he called. Oh, was that too nervous? Doctors should sound more confident, right? Doctor Kureha sounded like she could take on the world and win.

He was expecting Luffy or Usopp, who were clearly the biggest personalities on the ship, to come by. Or maybe Nami for a check-up to make sure she was doing well in her treatment. If they were really going to Alabasta, then she needed to be tip-top shape for it. Instead, he was surprised to see Tim’s slim figure in the doorway.

They hadn’t had much of a chance to talk yet. He arrived with Zoro, Dalton, and the others, looking amused and exasperated in equal measure. He barely even blinked at Chopper and accepted Luffy’s declaration that he would join with a nod. Apparently, he was the new crew member before Chopper became the new person.

“T-Tim! Are you alright?”

Tim smiled, gentle and genial.

“Yeah,” he said. “I just thought you’d want my medical history.”

Oh, thank goodness. Chopper was so scared about a lack of common sense aboard the Going Merry, even if they did seem like a lot of fun.

“Th-That would be a great help!”

“Of course,” he said, sitting down. “Now this may be a bit unbelievable, but I can verify everything.”

And then Tim told Chopper a story. It wasn’t like Usopp’s grand stories, however, but it was gigantic in scope. Of an alternate world with more than land, but also a lot of sea. Of daring heroes and dastardly villains. Of Tim, barely older than Chopper, who joined the fight with his mentor.

He showed Chopper devices he had never seen before and described what they did when asked.

But more importantly, he told Chopper the toll that the kind of life had on him: a slit throat, multiple beatings, falls from great heights, an illness that almost killed him called the Clench, and, most dangerous, a missing spleen.

“I had a backup supply of medication on me to help compensate for the lack of the immune system,” Tim said. “But I’ll need more soon.”

Missing spleen, Chopper could handle this. Doctor Kureha showed him how to make that kind of medicine.

“I want a check-up with you every three months,” he said matter-of-factly because he knew this like the back of his hooves. “Just to make sure your body is adjusting well, and I’ll have the medicine made for you, too. We’ll need quarantine procedures in case someone gets sick, or we’ll need to look into good face masks as well.”

Tim nodded as if that was something he was thinking about as well.

“We’ve been doing some protocols. I didn’t tend to Nami while she was sick since we didn’t know how she got sick. Luffy said it was from a bug bite?”

The doctor nodded, “I can let you borrow one of my medical books so you know the common ailments in this world.”

Tim smiled and his shoulders relaxed, “Thanks, Chopper. Listen, everyone knows about my spleen, but…can we keep some of the other stuff between us?”

Everyone had scars that they didn’t want to talk about. It would make sense that Tim would want to keep some of his injuries quiet from the crew. There was no need to distress them if it was something that could be avoided.

“I’m your doctor, and Doctor Kureha said that a trust between doctor and patient is the most important sort of trust. If it’s something really bad, though, I’ll need to tell Luffy since he’s the captain.”

“Fair enough,” Tim said with a nod. “And welcome aboard. You’re gonna fit right in.”

Chopper felt so, so pleased. He did a little dance even as he denied it, “S-Shut up! I don’t care if I fit in with you losers!” 

Tim laughed, “I’ll send Nami in with her medical records.”

(When they reunited after two years apart, Chopper flung himself into Tim’s arms, sobbing. He was so relieved that his friend was able to get his medicine to help his missing spleen. It worried him.

Tim held him tight as if he knew Chopper’s worry, and set about soothing it.)

Three Years Ago

This day was awful, and Trafalgar Law has had a lot of awful days. Like, truly, utterly awful, though being lugged around like a sack of potatoes over Straw Hat’s shoulder was definitely in, like, the Top Five.

Losing his family and Cora-san took the top four spots.

Logically speaking, Law knew that his plan wouldn’t go entirely to, well, plan. Drake had warned him, saying that his captain was a chaotic element. You needed to plan for the chaos rather than try to control it, Law. He knew that the younger man was usually right about this, but...

Ugh. 

And he heard Straw Hat suddenly breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Tim.”

Law couldn’t really move his head. The seastone cuffs had fully zapped his strength by this point. He was as weak and as helpless as a newborn lamb. Part of him wished, oddly, that Drake wouldn't see him like this, in such a weak and vulnerable state.

“Captain,” Drake said. “Torao, querido, what the fuck?”

And there was that word again, querido. Ever since he shared about Cora-san, Tim had been calling him that word. He wasn’t the best at reading people sometimes, but it seemed nice rather than cruel. So he didn’t say anything about it.

“Seastone cuffs, Drake-ya,” he said, grunting really. Even talking was becoming a pain.

“Can you get him out of them?” Straw Hat asked. “You’re like an escape artist guy.”

Ah, so Straw Hat was hoping to run into his intelligence officer then. Law wondered if he used Observation Haki to try to get near where he’d have the best chance of finding him.

“Of course I can.”

“Quickly,” Law said.

“So demanding,” Drake replied, appearing. He was out of the disguise he had on earlier. There was a cut on his cheek that had been bandaged. Right. No spleen. He was meticulous about injuries as a result of that in order to lower the risk of infection. “I also have a present.”

But first, Law watched as Drake rolled out a pristinely kept set of lockpicking tools. Long fingers trailed over each one as he examined the cuffs carefully and had Straw Hat prop him against the rubble of a wall.

“So this is pretty FUBAR, huh?” he said as he started to pick the lock.

“FUBAR?” Law asked, not understanding the term. Drake said many things that didn’t make sense to him. He was the most mysterious member of the Straw Hat Pirates in that there was very little known about him to begin with.

“Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition.”

Ah. FUBAR, huh?

If they survived, then it was making its way into his lexicon.

“You did warn me, Drake-ya.”

He got a small smirk, blue eyes glittering in bemusement.

“It’s not so bad, querido. The day could still be saved. Or, well, salvaged at this point. I guess.”

Maybe. He just wanted Cora-san to be avenged. Did his benefactor want Law to do this on his behalf? Probably not. But it would make him feel better.

“What does that word mean?”

The seastone cuffs fell away in less than a minute. Maybe it was the rush of his powers and strength returning to him, but he could feel blood rush and a strange sensation in his stomach. Like he had eaten bread, but not? It was more pleasant than when he ate bread.

Perhaps it was just because the tides felt like they had turned.

“Querido?” Drake asked as he pulled out another set of seastone cuffs. At Law’s look, he smirked, “Franky, Usopp, and I made these. They look like seastone, but they aren’t seastone. Knock em together to release and you’re free.”

Oh.

Oh.

Now here was a chance to get one over on Doflamingo.

“So cool,” Straw Hat said excitedly. “Torao can get the surprise on Mingo!”

“And we can get some real seastone cuffs,” the intelligence officer seemed quite pleased. He was tucking the cuffs away in his bag. “These’ll come in handy.”

“For training!”

“Sure, Luffy, you can use it for training.”

Straw Hat was fucking insane.

“Alright. You two all set up?” Drake asked as he placed the fake cuffs on Law’s wrists. “Because I need to go and free some slaves and blow up where they’ve been working. If we all do end up dying, then I want to make everything as much of an inconvenience for Mingo as possible in the aftermath. I want to be the pebble in his stupid shoe that he can never find.”

Law felt his cheeks color. He wasn’t sure why he was blushing at such a statement.

“Querido,” he said again, not quite rolling the ‘r’ as Drake did. “What does it mean?”

“Where I’m from, Corazon means heart,” he said with a smile. “You are the Heart Pirates. You are kind, Law. Kind is sweet. Querido is sweetheart because you already had a Corazon.”

“I’m not sweet,” Law said, feeling his insides squirm and twist as if he opened a room and took out his own guts. He flexed his hands. “Or kind.”

“You’re not nice,” Drake said, eyes sharp and assessing. “But you’re kind. Your crew wouldn’t love you so much if you weren’t. Cora-san wouldn’t have protected you if you weren’t. You are kind, Trafalgar Water Law, down to your very bones. Doflamingo can never take that from you. Kindness is a strength. And you are far stronger than him.”

He tapped Law’s chest with a smile.

“In here.”

And then he tapped his head.

“And in here.”

It was the most brutally beautiful thing someone had ever said to Law. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop a tear from falling down his face. He felt Seen, uncomfortably so, and Known, even more terribly.

“I need to go,” Drake said suddenly. “Free the slaves, destroy the bases, and I think one of the others needs my help. Captain? Carry Law, make Mingo think he is still weak, and kick that motherfucker’s ass.”

And then he was gone, heading down the ruined streets with a bo staff in hand.

Law was glad. He needed the barest second to collect himself after Drake’s frank honesty.

Of course, he couldn’t get that.

Straw Hat smiled, picking him up, “Tim sees what I saw all along, Torao."

Law hated how red his face felt in this moment. 

Five Years Ago

“Luffy’s not wrong,” Tim told Vivi as they took a minute to catch their breaths in Alabarna. The others were fighting off different members of Baroque Works, but somehow Tim had found her. Like it was second nature to evade captors and easily link up with someone in the city, even one he had never been to before.

Vivi’s stomach clenched, but she needed to hear him say it. Like she needed to hear Luffy say what he had to say, even if she didn’t want to.

“About?”

“Your people will fight, and some will die.” Tim’s voice was gentle, but it felt like a mockery. “War will come to Alubarna.”

“Not if I talk to Koza and to the military if I get there, then they have to stop.”

“They won’t,” he was relentless. It was polite, but he was relentless. “They’ll have blood rushing in their ears and rage in their hearts. One voice can’t be heard over clashing steel. Vivi, there is no end to this that is peaceful. Crocodile has had years to plan this, and he has contingencies to mitigate anything you might do. People are going to die, Vivi.”

Rage, hot and potent, flared through her.

“What do you know?!”

She went to slap him. Unlike Luffy, Tim didn’t allow himself to get him. He caught her hand with a surprisingly firm grip.

“Like Luffy said,” his voice was too soft and too gentle for the work they were about to do. He was steady with her shaking wrist in his grasp. “You are not an acceptable sacrifice. But you need to harden yourself, even for a minute, to what is going on around you. Because it will break you otherwise. It will break you in a way that can never be repaired. Can you live with that?”

She wanted to rage at him. Her heart broke for her people who had been manipulated and harmed because of one man’s petty ambitions, designed as grand dreams. She hated Crocodile more than anything.

However, he was right. He was cold and practical, and she thought she hated him for that. Luffy gave her a sense of ease, like everything would be alright. But this was the logical reality of the world.

Tim let go of her hand.

“I’ll have to,” she said, her heart already breaking for her people. “Won’t I?”

Tim’s eyes were endlessly sympathetic, and it made her want to cry.

For the first time, in such a very long time, she wanted her mother.

“I think that’s what it means to be a ruler.”

She closed her eyes.

“I just wanted my people safe.”

“Then save those whom you can save,” Tim said, grabbing her hand and holding it tight. It felt so grounding.

She looked at their bandaged arms, the X of their friendship, a vow.

Vivi felt her will and resolve flare to life.

“Okay,” she said.

Three Years Ago

Franky was grateful to Tim because he had slim, nimble hands that were great for delicate work. Of course, Franky has his own set of hands for that work as well, but it was always great to spend time with a member of the crew. Sure, he was grateful for his bro for other reasons as well. He and Usopp were great tinkering buddies, too. But Tim had a more advanced understanding of mechanics and was very good at knowing what Franky needed before he had to say it.

He was SUPER like that.

And Tim, when he was working on Franky’s harder to reach parts of his cyborg body or his mech suits, was downright chatty about his home. Though, honestly, it was more about the tech that he left behind.

“A hacker, huh?” Franky asked.

“Mmmm. Programming and computers,” Tim sounded wistful. “I was so good at it. Hacked into every CCTV camera for years, backdoors into most government agencies, and, on occasion, I’d steal from giant jackasses and donate the ill-gotten gains to charity. Mainly because one of them was my best friend’s biological father and a major asshole. So it was kind of my petty way of saying fuck you, Lex.”

Franky let out a huge belly laugh at that. Tim’s own laughter made the shop feel nice and warm, comfortingly familiar.

“You’re a SUPER friend, bro!”

“Eh, you’re not so bad yourself, big guy,” Tim said, lifting the welder's mask briefly to grin at him. “Besides, I found my own ways around it. But what I wouldn’t give for a radio transmitter and some bugs. No one would know what to look for.”

Bugs were tiny recording devices, which sounded like a bracing challenge. Delicate work was more Tim’s bag than Franky’s, but his fingers itched at the idea of it all. Who knows what sort of wonders they would find on Egghead? Tim was amazing with all that stuff on Punk Hazard.

“Maybe Doctor Vegapunk will have some stuff for you?”

He saw Tim’s grin smooth into a smirk.

“Don’t promise me a good time, Franky,” he said.

Five Years Ago

Skypeia was beautiful and wonderful. It was like a fairytale brought to life, and he could swim in clouds., However, as a rule, Tim didn’t put a whole lot of faith into beings who called themselves god.

He also didn’t like how easy this all was. Conis and her father, the constant prickle at the back of his neck, there was something going on. And he hated not knowing it. For the most part, Tim had just been watching and waiting, trying to get a handle on things to make plans.

Though the dials, admittedly, were a fascinating sort of invention and something he was aching to understand. Tim hoped he could get his hands on some of them. The tech in this world was all over the place, so really anything he could get his hands on would be welcomed.

But the White Berets were setting his teeth on edge.

“You know,” he said lazily, looking at their leader. “If you put a sign that said Please Pay Toll, then we could have avoided this mess. Along with a conversion rate. I mean, given the death toll to get up here, I could see why not. But it really is a lack of communication.”

“Tim,” Usopp warned, terror bleeding into his voice. While Tim agreed that there was a time and a place to follow the rules, he was also aware that they didn’t have enough money even if Nami got back in time.

(Early on, when Nami realized that not only did Tim have a head for business but also ran a successful one, she had dragged him to help her with their account books and budget. Tim knew they had to start saving up for a new ship. The Merry wasn’t going to last much longer on the Grand Line, no matter how much they patched her up. And he made Nami be honest about all the money she had as well, which she didn’t like, but she was worn down.

Still, they didn’t have a centralized banking system and no stock market, and no fucking computers, so Tim couldn’t just hack in and steal some goddamn money. But, yeah, next time they saved someone, they were getting paid. Tim should have asked Vivi for some gold or something.)

They had like 50,000 beri. No one to pay these fines and the entrance tax. And Tim was suspecting that the White Berets didn’t even care.

He was starting to think that this was all an act to get them to be sacrifices to this god.

“But,” he said gently. He fell into something a little slicker, a little meaner. “I’m sure that’s what you all wanted, isn’t it? Even if we did pay the entrance fees, well…I’m sure you would have come and started to fine us anyway.”

“How DARE you,” the White Beret captain yelled.

Tim rolled his eyes, “Oh, I dare alright. Because this was rigged against us from the first, wasn’t it?”

He stepped closer and grinned. It was all teeth. It was a smile he would make after someone punched him in the face and he grinned back with bloodied teeth. It was something he picked up from watching Jason as Robin, something mean and sharp.

Some of the White Berets flinched at the smile.

Good, Tim always worried it lost its effectiveness when he wasn’t bleeding.

“Are you threatening a White Beret?”

“Now, good sir,” he said softly. “What part of anything I said was a threat? I was just pointing out a logical train of thought.”

Behind him, Tim could hear Luffy’s laugh (“Shishishi, Tim’s so cool. I got the best smart guy officer.”)

And then, of course, Nami smacked the guy in the face with her borrowed Waver.

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson had long learned that miracles come at a cost. There was no pure force of miraculous power that made everything better. There was always a dreaded “but” at the end of the sentence that robbed the one in a quadrillion chance of the joy it deserved. Miracles came at a cost, and they just had to live with the aftermath of that cost as well.

 It was a brutal sort of truth about the world.

 It always seemed to happen with his family, too.

You never get anything back without something being taken in return.

Jason is alive! But he hates you all, has become a murderous crime lord, and went into the Lazarus Pits.

Stephanie is alive! But Leslie Thompkins, someone you thought you could trust, lied to you all in order to teach Bruce a fucking lesson. Just screw the rest of them, huh?

Bruce is alive! But he’s lost in the time stream, and you wrecked your relationship with your little brother. And then there was nothing you could do to repair it when he disappeared.

Tim is back! But he’s spent five fucking years trapped in some kind of ocean world, and he made a life there rather than trying to find a way home. And he is a goddamn pirate now and worked for a god who called himself The Pirate King.

And that’s just in Dick’s more immediate family.

He closed his eyes after Bruce’s phone call, glad to have even gotten a phone call after Wally’s quiet and desperate voice notes. The good news is that the “Straw Hat Pirates” seemed to be good pirates. Tim had submitted to some questioning under Diana’s lasso, but only with her asking the questions. They used it enough to confirm that the pirates were good or, at least, aligned with the forces of good.

Of course, Bruce was probably going to pry more information out of Tim. He hated unknown entities, especially since his brother had disappeared. It was hard, seeing Bruce become more paranoid as the months passed by. And to learn that those months were actually years in the other world? What are they supposed to do with that?

Damn those missing five years, Tim was twenty-two now and, according to Wally, who witnessed everything, “a huge badass”. He had joined a crew of pirates, of all things. The only reason he was here was due to a fluke, an accident, a chance.

A fucking miracle.

Alfred was insisting on dinner for the family to welcome Tim home, no exceptions, and not a toe out of line. Dick had been ignoring the group chat’s insistent buzzing as, presumably, everyone was losing their minds over the news of the latest wayward son’s return home.

But was it permanent? Was Tim going to stay? Did he even want to stay?

Was this even home anymore?

Did he still hate Dick?

(Dick tried not to think about how he couldn’t catch Tim as he was falling, falling, always falling. Tim was glowing, and Ra’s did something to his brother. And then the air around Tim rippled and Dick thought that if he grabbed, he could stop whatever was going on.

But Tim vanished in mid-air, gone like he was never there.

Dick knew in his bones that Tim expected his big brother to catch him.

And he failed. God, he failed.)

“Richard,” Damian’s voice cut through the memory. Dick blinked back to himself, looking down at his youngest brother, his Robin. “Are you well?”

He could see the flash of concern in those too-old green eyes. For all that Damian insisted otherwise, he was just a kid. Dick needed to be strong for him in the face of all of this.

“I’m fine, Dami,” he said, chuckling at how Damian bristled like a kitten over the nickname. “Just getting ready for tonight.”

He was relatively certain that it was about to be a shitshow of the highest order, even with Alfred’s warning fresh on everyone’s mind. One that he was not looking forward to, not at all. He hoped, for Alfred’s sake, if nothing else, that everyone was willing to get through dinner without some kind of blow-up.

“-tt- Drake,” Damian muttered.

Oh boy, this again.

“Damian,” he said, almost cajolingly. “Please, don’t try to bait him? It’s been years since Tim. Let’s…I’m happy he’s home.”

He could see the war going on behind Damian’s eyes. Whatever sort of hell that the League of Assassins had beaten into him and whatever sort of love he had for Dick were battling it out. He wished he knew why Damian had hated Tim so much. But he never wanted to dig for the answer, not when there were worse behaviors to handle first.

And then Tim was gone.

Maybe part of Damian was glad to see him go, Dick couldn’t guess what went on in his Robin’s mind. But he was an observant kid and seeing the devastation of the loss (or the absence since they didn’t even know if Tim was dead) had him keeping quiet on his own dislike.

Dick would take whatever victory he could get.

Given that the Straw Hat Pirates had to return to the Watchtower after handling the world-ending threat that got their god-captain summoned, it meant that when they arrived at Wayne Manor it was through the Batcave. Dick was certain that Bruce hated it, but that cat had long been out of the bag for these people anyway.

Tim had shared stories, according to Wally. He had told them everything about them. Or, at least, about being vigilantes.

(Dick was even more certain that Bruce hated that, too.)

But Alfred had cooked up a storm (and made a ton of meat-based dishes, apparently it was requested,) and they were all gathered together in the Batcave, even Babs had come down from her Clocktower. But she always did have a soft spot for Tim.

“You think Bruce screwed the pooch yet?” Babs asked as they waited near the zeta tube.

Jason snorted, “Bold of you to assume otherwise.”

“Father doesn’t have to be diplomatic with the likes of pirates,” Damian muttered.

Cassandra merely hummed happily and bounced on her toes. She was holding Stephanie’s hand in hers, who looked way more nervous about seeing Tim again. Which was fair, the two of them didn’t get a chance to really clear the air after her whole return from the (faked) dead thing.

Alfred merely stood placidly, with perfect posture, as he cleaned up the Batcave. Though Dick could see the small glances he tossed toward the transportation point, which finally activated.

A long arm, stretched as if from Mister Fantastic, came out first. It grabbed onto the giant penny.

“YAHOO!” an unfamiliar voice shouted. A young man came through the portal following the arm’s trajectory until he landed atop of the penny. Dick couldn’t make out much except he was wearing red and had on a hat of some kind. “Whoa! Hey! Hey Nami! It’s giant money!”

“Goddammit,” a more familiar voice said. “Luffy!”

And then Tim appeared, and all of Dick’s attention was on him. God, he really was older.

He was taller, though not by much. Tim’s skin looked a healthy tan and was generally aglow in good health. He looked well-fed and well-rested. His hair had grown long enough to be held back. He had pierced ears, and on his left arm was a tattoo of an X. He had some kind of skateboard across his back.

He grew more to resemble his mother than his father, with a sort of androgynous beauty that favored Janet Drake. Except he looked way, way happier than Dick had ever seen the woman look in her entire life. Or, well, the time he had seen her.

And…there was a confidence, an ease in his body like Tim knew what he could do and could be expected to do it. His head was held high, and his shoulders were back, even with the slight slouch. But it was all so controlled.

Dick noted others coming out behind them, each odder than the last, but his eyes were solely on Tim. He noted the last to come out was Bruce. His brother glanced around the cave, eyes sweeping across most of them, before landing on Alfred.

The butler stared at Tim as if he were a true miracle, one without strings attached, standing before him.

“Master Tim,” he said warmly. “My dear boy, it is so good to see you again.”

Tim strode forward, all easy long gait and casual grace.

And he pulled Alfred into a huge hug.

“Hey Alfred,” he heard Tim say. “I think I put Treasure Island to shame.”

And the butler laughed, sounding choked up. Dick suddenly remembered when Tim was recovering from The Clench that Alfred would read to him from that book and The Hobbit.

“Oh my dear boy,” Alfred said, holding the younger man’s face in his hands. “What a miracle you are. What a treasure. I am so pleased to see you again.”

Tim’s eyes were suspiciously shiny as well when he pulled back.

Cass ran over and jumped into his arms. He caught and spun her around, arms out, before he even saw her. As if he could sense her presence coming somehow.

“Little brother!” she said, clear as a bell and twice as fond. Whatever she saw in Tim’s body language made her happy.

“Cass,” his voice was fond. “I think I’m older than you.”

Cass poked him in the nose, “Always will be little brother.”

“Sure,” he said with a laugh. “Of course.”

Tim’s gaze landed on Stephanie, and there was an awkward sort of tension in the air. But one that she braved through.

“Glad you’re not dead.”

“Well, no one hit me in the face with a brick,” he grinned. “But thanks. So am I.”

Dick could see Tim’s gaze linger on Damian and Jason. It was easily some of the more complicated dynamics in the family, murder attempts and all. But he didn’t seem bothered by the pair of them there. In fact, Dick thought, he seemed almost too unbothered.

“Jason,” Tim greeted. “Damian.”

The green-haired guy with the swords seemed to zero in on that, as did a blonde guy with weird eyebrows. Others of the crew also seemed to freeze, either subtly or unsubtly, looking over at the pair.

“Replacement.”

“-tt-“

Tim shrugged it off, which seemed to make the two stiffen more at the perceived dismissal. Maybe it was one, but then he was striding toward Babs. She already had her arms out for a hug.

“Hey, Tim.”

“Babs,” he said, hugging her tightly. “We need to talk before I head back. Seriously, I need your help with some of my gear. You will only know my pain.”

Before I head back.

Dick swallowed. Alright then, it looked like Tim wouldn’t be staying in this world. It sounded like he never even considered it an option.

“Flatterer.”

“There are barely any computers, and they communicate with snails,” his younger brother said. “And sure I blame the government daily for the lack of unified tech, but SNAILS, Babs. SNAILS.”

“The Den Den Mushi are not that weird, Tim!” called an orange-haired woman. She tossed her long hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms. “They are perfectly normal communication devices.”

This was clearly an old argument.

Snails weren’t normal communication devices, though. Dick didn’t care what world they came from.

Period.

“Yes, they are, Nami! If I have to try to hack radio waves coming from a snail again, then I’m going to cry.”

“You have a black transponder snail, Tim,” another woman, dark-haired and collected. Though she seemed bemused at the situation. “You can do whatever you like.”

“Babs will know my suffering,” he said, turning back to Babs. “And you should meet Franky when we get a chance. Usopp, too, but our cyborg is more interested in computer stuff.”

“Come by the Clocktower one of these days,” her voice was fond. “I think I’d like to hear your stories.”

And then Tim’s attention was on him.

To Dick, it always felt like Tim’s gaze was always analytical. But it seemed like he was being flayed open for his brother to see everything in and every part of him. It felt like he was being truly Seen in such a deeply uncomfortable way, like Dick wanted nothing more than to hide from this world than face that gaze.

“Hey Tim,” he said, voice smaller than he would like.

“Dick,” Tim said quietly.

“I—”

God, he had no clue what to say. Once things felt so easy with Tim, but then…everything happened and got complicated, and his brother grew up when he wasn’t looking, quite literally.

(Of course, he wanted to go back there.

Dick would have to learn all their names, but they loved his little brother. God, it was so starkly evident from the way they had looked so protective when Tim greeted Jason and Damian, to the way they spoke so gently to him. Cass had to have read it in their body language. Otherwise, it would have been a different conversation.)

Tim just smiled and gave him a hug.

But it was warm and it was real.

“It’s good to see you,” his brother said. He sounded happy and sincere.

God, Dick wished that he could believe him.

Little Brother was so happy, Cass could only feel pleased by that.

He was happier, more open, freer. There was joy itself woven into his very being. It made her heart feel full of delight. The people he came with, his crew, also loved him fiercely and preciously.

He had his arm around her as Cass was introduced. They knew Sign as well when the words escaped her. The rubbery man, Luffy (sign name: smile boom), was the most proficient in it. His fingers seemed to dance.

She liked him. He was free too.

Cass knew the joy of being free well. She had found that joy here. She had found that joy amongst her family. It was an amazing sort of feeling.

Tim was laughing and smiling.

Bruce worried too much about too many unimportant things.

This was the most important thing.

Tim was happy.

Good.  

That was all that Cass needed to know.

Today, in Luffy’s opinion, was a pretty weird day. Not like the weirdest day ever, but definitely pretty weird. At least he was getting some food now. Even if it wasn’t the big and wild party that he was hoping for.

Tim said that they could have some fun later, after dinner. And he was pretty okay with that. His nakama, without even talking with each other, decided to be on their Best, BEST behavior for their intelligence officer’s sake.

But still, it was a weird day for Monkey D. Luffy.

It started with him being summoned through a weird glowing portal thing into Tim’s world with the rest of the crew. Then he ate a weird magic thing after a really fun fight. Then Tim had to get tied up to tell the truth while everyone frowned at him (the heroes) or at the heroes (his crew).

Honestly, Luffy was tired of the arguments about what pirates were. He and his nakama were free, and they did what they wanted when they wanted. And, yeah, usually it meant helping people because that’s what they wanted to do. They defeated that Emu guy or whoever, and Luffy was the Pirate King, the freest man in the world. The Straw Hats decided what kind of pirates they were.

Was it so bad to just let people be? He didn’t like this Bat-guy because he loved Tim, Luffy could see that, but it also wrapped up in control, wanting to bind him. Bat-guy didn’t know that Tim was free because he was Luffy’s now. Or, well, Tim was Tim’s, but he decided to be free. But he was also Luffy’s.

His intelligence officer’s family wasn’t very free, Luffy found. He wasn’t sure how much he liked them.

Out of all of Tim’s family, he liked Al the best because he made food almost as good as Sanji’s. He hoped that Sanji got the recipes, though. He knew Tim missed the tastes of home like everyone did. But Sanji didn’t know what his home tasted like. Whenever any one of them had a Bad Day, Sanji tried to make their favorites or things that tasted like their homes. (Comfort food, he called it.) So it would be good to get that now while they were here.

But after Al, he liked Cass. She was so cool. Luffy could also tell that she was a great fighter. He wondered if she would fight him! Because he had a feeling it could be really, really fun. He snickered to himself as he put another hunk of meat in his mouth, so tender it melted like butter once it hit his tongue.

“Sooo good,” he said with a full mouth. Next to him, Zoro nodded as he was gnawing at a bone before snapping it to drink the marrow. Ooooh! Luffy should do it too.

Nami smacked him on his back, “Luffy! Manners!”

“Ugh, but Namiiiiiii!” he whined. Manners were so boring.

His crew merely shook their heads in various states of amusement. Luffy’s eyes, however, kept wandering over to Tim’s spot. Mainly because he knew his intelligence officer had a lot of complicated feelings regarding his family, and he got more sad than happy when he talked about them. Or like a mix of the two, like the memories weighed on his heart.

(Luffy got that sort of complicated feeling after Ace died. Not because of Ace’s death, that was its own sort of heartache.

No. That sad-happy feeling, that complication with regard to family, he felt that the most when he thought of his Gramps for the longest time. Even now.)

But right now, Tim was laughing at something a red-haired lady said, Bob? Bugs? Bag. No, that wasn’t it. Franky and Usopp seemed to like her too so Luffy should learn her name. The four of them were chatting very happily. Yeah, he definitely needed to learn her name. It began with a B. He knew that much.

He’ll ask Robin. She was better at names, even though she used the ones he came up with for people. She thought it was funny. Tim would call her a troll, though Luffy wasn’t sure what that meant. Trolls lived under bridges, and Robin lived on the Sunny.

Al didn’t seem to think much of their manners, but what did manners matter to pirates? He hadn’t said anything about it. Though he did wince a couple of times at how they were eating. But he seemed so happy to have Tim back and their enjoyment of his food that it seemed to equal out. Even though he was keeping an eye on the room, Sanji seemed to have gotten him into conversation.

Tim’s brothers, the ones who tried to kill him, were poking at his food (Sword Kid) or focused solely on his plate (Skunk Guy) as if the rest of them didn’t exist. Good. If they tried something, then Luffy would have done something. He didn’t care what Bat-guy said. The eldest one (Dixie or whatever) kept stealing glances at Tim, and Luffy didn’t know what to make of that. The blonde (Sticky) was trying to be cheerful, but looked so sad. He’ll need to talk to…

Not Zoro.

Maybe Robin? She was really smart. And Luffy knew she was keeping an eye (or eyes) on things. She could clear things up rather than read between the lines of what Tim had shared over the years.

He snapped a bone to suck out the marrow. Yeah. That’s what he’ll do.

Luffy was Tim’s captain.

Tim was his.

And Bat Guy can never have him back again.

Chapter Text

Three Years Ago

“Brook,” Tim asked one night, day three of his insomnia acting up. “Could you play me a lullaby?”

If he had a heart in his chest, then it would swell with pride and delight. That his crew member still wanted him to play to sleep.

(Brook looked over at their intelligence officer. Even with the short time he was on the crew before they separated for two years, he remembered the sleepless nights Tim could have. It seemed to frustrate him, especially since they needed to be well-rested and aware for whatever the Grand Line threw at them.

Chopper tried different types of medication. Sanji tried various teas and, when they had it, warm milk with soothing spices. People pulled Tim into their hammocks or on pillows on the ground trying to get him to sleep with skin-to-skin contact. But they didn’t have a really reliable method beforehand until Brook joined the crew.

He remembered Luffy declaring, “A lullaby! Brook play Tim a lullaby!”

Tim, on day four of his insomniac streak and looking like he hated the world, merely let out a jaw-cracking yawn.

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

Luffy poked him in the cheek.

“Don’t be dumb,” he said. “And come cuddle.”

Tim shut up and went to cuddle. He rested his head on Luffy’s chest and closed his eyes. It looked like it was the most natural thing in the world to Brook. He wondered if this crew knew how different they were from other crews, how precious and special it was. They were like an orchestra in a full, glorious performance.

“Play the lullaby, Brook!” Luffy declared.

Brook played a lullaby, a tuneless little ditty that he heard at a sweet little island with the Rumbar Pirates back in the day. He remembered a drink that tasted like cinnamon and his friends laughing with him.

Tim was out in record time.)

“Tired, are we?” Brook asked as he tuned his violin.

“I didn’t sleep well while we were all apart,” he admitted. The younger man rested his head on Brook’s bony leg, apparently uncaring if it was uncomfortable. Something about thinking he was a good place to rest tugged again at his non-existent heart (yohoho).

Brook may have missed fifty years, but he was at least familiar with the world when they separated. Tim didn’t even have that luxury, and yet he grew a network. There were birds in the tangerine trees now, singing so sweetly in the early dawn.

“Anything for our intelligence officer,” he said, magnanimously. “Would you like me to get one of the others?”

Tim cracked open an eye, “I’m comfortable as I am. Unless you plan on moving?”

He was always awash in affection for his crew, in the power that they had over each other. Those fifty dismal years seemed to be repaid for in full for every day he was in the light of these wonderful people, led by a captain who seemed to rival the sun itself in his warmth.

“Ah, of course, how silly of me,” he said, putting up his violin.

The lullaby, it seemed, always did the trick. Tim was out like a light before it was even finished.

Five Years Ago

“I understand now,” a quiet voice broke through the crackling fire. “Though I seemed to be a bit late.”

Chopper could cry as Tim appeared in the window. The fire roared down below, and he didn’t know where Lucci had thrown Luffy and Zoro to.

“Tim,” he said in relief.

Their tactician landed easily into the room, checking over Iceburg and Paulie.

“I need to find a library or something,” he muttered to Chopper. “I have to learn basic information to get to where I really need to go. I reasoned out some stuff, but…looks like I was still late. I’m sorry.”

The doctor took it to mean that he figured out about CP9, Tim was really smart like that.

“The mob is outside.”

“People can be reasoned with,” Tim said, as he hefted Iceburg over his shoulder. “Fire can’t. So we’ll take what we can get. Bend down so I can put Paulie on your back.”

“And Robin?”

“I have a guess to her true motives,” he said quietly. He suddenly looked so very sad and so very tired as if the turmoil from the past day had aged him. “I hope I’m wrong. Let’s get them outside.”

He didn’t really know what their tactician meant, though. But he was really smart, so whatever he suspected about what happened with Robin must have been bad. The doctor’s heart froze at that. They already lost Usopp; losing Robin also would feel like they were losing everything. Like the actual fire had become a metaphor for everything burning down around their ears.

Tim suddenly moved as if the talk could wait until later. What needed to be done now was more important.

Though, honestly, with the fire and all, it was more important.

Chopper was surprised that Tim had grabbed a pitcher of water and doused himself and Iceburg. He let out a frustrated noise as it was the only water in the room, so he tore a bit of cloth and held it out to get the rainwater from the oh so brief squall outside, a prelude to the larger storm. He tied it, the best he could, around Chopper and Paulie’s mouths.

“This isn’t going to be fun. But we’re going to do it, okay?” he said, tearing down another curtain and making a rope for them. “We’re not going to get separated, and we’re going to move as quickly as we can. If we can get Iceburg and Paulie out alive, then I’m hoping it earns us enough goodwill not to get torn apart by an angry mob. If not, then you need to guard Nami because I’m pretty sure I saw her as I was making my way to you.”

Terror seized Chopper’s heart, remembering trying to join the other humans on Drum Island. Remembering how badly that went before he met Doctor Hiriluk.

“And you?” he whispered. Hysterically, he was proud that his voice didn’t shake as much as he thought it would.

“I can handle myself,” Tim said firmly. “Protect Nami. If it looks bad, then take her and go somewhere you can hide. I will find you. I promise, Chopper. Okay?”

Chopper could see why Tim was a good hero. He had an authoritative tone, but there was a surety that really, for the first time in hours, made a knot in his chest loosen. He believed Tim when he said.

He nodded.

“Alright then,” he rubbed the doctor’s head through his hat. “You did really well, Chopper. Now let’s get out before the mansion burns down around our ears.”

Chopper nodded, allowed the makeshift rope to be gently looped around his neck, and followed Tim out into the inferno.

During The Straw Hats' Separation

There was someone at Pops and Ace’s graves.

That wasn’t super surprising to Marco. His brothers, sisters, and siblings (because even if they were so separated after Pops’ death and many of them were going in hiding or worse, well, they still cared about each other) came to visit quite often. But he couldn’t tell who this person is from the back.

A slim figure was placing flowers in front of Ace’s grave. His messy black hair was obscuring his face.

“You don’t need to watch,” he addressed Marco. Observation Haki, maybe?

The figure turned to look at him and, oh, he knew that face. It’s one of Luffy’s crew.

‘Kingmaker’ Drake Tim, bounty was 70,000,000 beri if Marco was remembering correctly.

“You’re one of Luffy’s crew,” he said as he landed, shifting back into his human form. “Why are you here?”

“To pay my respects, I met Ace back in Alabasta. He was a good guy, for however briefly I knew him. And Luffy couldn’t be here, I figured he’d appreciate someone from his crew making sure it was a nice spot for his big brother,” Drake looked down at the grave. He then sighed and added, in the way of someone who had been travelling alone and gotten used to speaking to himself. “And it’s been six months, I needed to make sure.”

Marco didn’t really understand what that part meant. He didn’t know what the significance of six months meant, but there were a lot of weird traditions throughout the Blues. But it did sound like Ace to only know people for a little bit and so profoundly change them, to be so cared for.

“I’m sorry about your father,” the younger man then said, meeting Marco’s eyes. There was nothing but understanding in them, a tone of sincerity that appeared when someone had shared a similar loss. “He sounded like a great man.”

His heart constricted. Everyone was so sorry about Whitebeard, the Captain, but so very few called him Marco’s father. Even though that’s what Whitebeard was. (Shanks called him his Dad and looked at him with too understanding eyes.) The grief hit, fresh and raw, as did the anger at Teach because Marco would never call the man by his moniker. He would rather die first than call him after the self-styled mocking epithet of his father.

“He was,” Marco cleared his throat to rid himself of the lump. “They both were.”

Drake nodded, looking thoughtfully at Ace’s tombstone. “My dad was murdered, too.”

Marco could see what it was, an olive branch of understanding from the tone of voice. A reason for him to see that the condolence was genuine instead of rote.

“I’m sorry about your Dad.”

“He wasn’t a perfect man, wasn’t even a very good father,” Drake shrugged. “But I love him. It’s always complicated when you love them.”

Yeah, wasn’t that the truth?

“I would like to talk with you,” he continued. “But I can wait until you’re done visiting them. If that’s alright.”

Marco considered the teenager in front of him. He could see the exhaustion at the corners of his eyes and the determination in his posture. Straw Hat’s crew wasn’t with him at Marineford, but Marco had a feeling that it was other means that had kept them away from their captain.

“Alright-yoi,” he said. “Why don’t you go lie down? I promise to come and get you when I’m done.”

Drake considered him for a long moment before nodding and walking off to a nearby tree, sitting down, leaning against it, and closing his eyes.

“Oh boy,” Marco said to Pops and Ace. “What am I about to get myself into?”

(For the next eight months, Marco had a student; that’s what he got himself into. Because Tim wanted to learn Observation and Armament Haki. For some reason, he decided that Marco was the best to teach him that.

And to teach him aerial attacks because he had a flying board that he was determined to get good with for it. The kid was fucking insane. Marco hated at how much he loved the little weirdo. And that wasn’t even touching the fake identities and army of birds that Tim had put together in his first six months alone.

Marco didn’t even want to know what he was going to do with the rest of his time. Because, apparently, that’s why Luffy went back to Marineford to get a message. They were going to train for two years and take on the New World.

All he could do at that was laugh because Ace would have been so proud of his kid brother.

Marco couldn’t wait to see what his student was going to do next.)

One Year Ago

“It’s not that bad,” Usopp said gamely.

Tim, Sanji, and Zoro turned to Stare at him.

Usopp flinched.

“Okay. It’s not great per se, but we can dig it out. Right?”

The three looked at each other and then stared at Usopp.

Now, the sniper was getting nervous.

“Right? Tim?”

Nami was going to, as their intelligence officer had once put it, wear their guts for garters.

“If Nami lets us live long enough to dig out the treasure that a pair of idiots reburied,” Tim said, sending a look of supreme annoyance at Sanji and Zoro. “Then, yes, we can dig it out.”

“Hey, you can’t put this on us,” Zoro said, crossing his arms.

“The hell I can’t! I told you and Sanji to either go make out in the woods or fight in the woods but not to do it near the treasure site,” the intelligence officer said. “Usopp heard me!”

“Please don’t bring me into this,” the sniper said, but shrank under Tim’s terrifying gaze. “But Tim is right. He did say that.”

“See?”

He actually said that they needed to either fight or fuck it out, but Usopp was really and truly trying not to be noticed. They just needed to get the treasure out, and Nami was going to be okay because they had the treasure.

All the fucking Blues, they had to fight some kind of insane man wearing a giant mech suit that was made out of coconuts to get at the treasure. According to Tim, it had left near nostalgic for home. Usopp never knew what to make of it when his friend said stuff like that because it just made him really fucking terrified for whatever the hell had happened during Tim’s childhood.

Apparently, someone who went by “Poison Ivy” could have made her own coconut mech suit because she was a plant woman.

Usopp was so tired. He never wanted to see Tim’s world unless under some very controlled circumstances. Or between “Arkham Breakouts,” whatever the hell those were.

But still, right now, they had to make sure Nami didn’t murder them where they stood.

“Can’t Zoro cut through rock?” he asked.

Oh.

Usopp definitely zoned out because Sanji had Zoro in some sort of headlock with his thighs while Zoro had his hands over Tim’s mouth. Tim, meanwhile, seemed to have Sanji in an armbar.

“What?” Zoro asked and then jumped. “Don’t lick me, dickweed!”

“I’ll lick whoever I damn well please,” Tim said. “Also, you need to bathe more.”

“Oh, not this again,” the swordsman said.

“No,” Sanji said. “He’s right, you do need to bathe more, Mosshead.”

“Shut up, Swirly Brow. You seem to like it just fine.”

“Guys!” Usopp bellowed exasperated. Zoro and Sanji? He could see having to do this. But Tim, when he was in a full and proper snit, could be just as bad as the pair of them. The Wings of the Pirate King and his Shadow, he wanted to say to the world, are fucking children sometimes.

They stopped and looked at Usopp.

“Can we please dig ourselves out of the metaphorical hole we found ourselves in and then you all can handle whatever is going on with you guys today?” he asked in exasperation. “I don’t want Nami—”

“You don’t want Nami what?” the navigator said. Her voice was all honey, deception, and promised the pain that was about to befall them all. Welp, they were dead. Usopp tried, but nooooo. No one listened to him.

Usopp threw up his hands in exasperation and walked away.

Five Years Ago

“The weapon’s name was Pluton, you said?” Tim asked Robin, after all was said and done. He knew that the name was Pluton, she knew. This was a return to form for them. When she had first joined the crew, he’d sit with her as a way to keep an eye on her without being too obvious.

And then he did it out of genuine enjoyment of her company. She did it out of similar enjoyment to his.

It was a relief to be with her crew again. Although all of them, in their own ways, were hovering around her after everything that had happened. Tim had been sitting with her to read together or to tinker with whatever gadget he was aiming to improve. It wasn’t hovering, but merely a return to a routine that they had grown comfortable with before CP9 had shown themselves.

He didn’t force her to talk or to check in; they just sat there together in quiet companionship.

“Yes,” she looked up at him. “Why?”

“In my world, there was a god called Pluto,” he was sketching out a new design in a notebook. His blue eyes were focused on the page, not looking at Robin. “The god of the Underworld, the dead, and wealth. Now I won’t bore you about the difference between Roman and Greek gods right now. He was also called Hades in another culture. But he had two brothers as well.”

Robin closed her book, now fully invested.

“His brothers were called Neptune, or Poseidon, and Zeus, or Jupiter. They were born to the great titan Saturn, or Kronos. He was born to the Earth, Terra, or Gaia, and the sky, Caelus, or Uranus. Now, I’m more familiar with Greek mythology, but Kronos, the god of time, ate his children except his youngest, Zeus. Zeus’ mother was a clever woman and tricked her husband into eating a rock in swaddling clothes. He grew up and was able to get his father to throw up his siblings, who had grown inside of him. Long story short, they defeated him and became the new gods of the world.”

Interesting.

“And what does this have to do with Pluton?”

“Well,” Tim continued, sketching. “The three brothers had to divide their father’s kingdom: the sky, the sea, and the dead. Eventually, it turned out that Zeus was made god of Olympus, where all of the gods resided as its king. He was a god of the sky. Now, Poseidon became the god of the sea. And, of course, Hades became the god of the Underworld. Now the Greeks were more a seafaring people than the Romans, as they are a more island-based nation. So when it was time to go then you took a ferry to the realm of the Dead.”

Pluton was a warship. Ah.

Tim believed that there was a set of three then: a ferry for the dead or a warship to raze islands, something to do with the sea, and something to do with the sky. That was why he was giving her names and domains. So Robin would know the significance if they came across it.

“It’s funny, though,” he said. “There’s another name for Hades in Greek, which is Plouton or P-L-O-U-T-O-N. That focused more on the wealth aspects. Hades was the god of the dead, right? But he was also the god of everything that came from the ground: the gemstones, minerals, and fertile soil. But, according to some scholars, it was believed this name was more commonly used than Hades in Ancient Greece. They didn’t like to use the name of the god of the dead.”

Hm.

Tim thought there were more parallels to his world and their world than he had previously believed. But he didn’t want to voice it aloud, so he brought it up in a way that she could understand.

“How interesting,” Robin murmured.

“I thought so too,” Tim said. “I’ve missed our little talks.”

She smiled at that, pleased.

“So have I.”

These were definitely names that Robin was going to make sure stayed in her head. Weapons that bore the names of gods, gods that had also existed back in Tim’s world. He did theorize that some things echoed across the vastness of this “multiverse”. Perhaps, this was one such instance.

Fascinating.

She and Tim really did have the best conversations, in Robin’s opinion. It made her so very happy to have been brought back home.

Chapter Text

“So,” Usopp said, dragging out the ‘o’. “That’s your family, huh?”

Tim, for the first time all day, audibly let out the groan that he had been suppressing behind eye rolls and placid smiles. No one could tell, of course, unless you had spent five years on top of each other. He was picking the lock to where the alcohol was kept, the nice kind. His family was out doing hero stuff, Usopp supposed. Patrolling, Tim would call it when he was in the mood to talk about such things.

(Or when he felt like dropping a random bombshell about how fucked Gotham was. Oh boy, that wasn’t doing wonders for his nerves right now. Apparently, most of the real psychos were locked up after an “Arkham Breakout,” and that meant that they wouldn’t be escaping for a while. He was of the opinion that if escapes were regular occurrences, then you put them somewhere else.

But what did he know about this world?)

Still, given everything that had happened in the past, however many hours, Usopp was voluntold by Nami to join Tim and get him to talk about It.

Which he agreed to. Even though he thought Robin would have been a better choice, she would have advocated for a solution that may have gotten them bounties in this world as well. Usopp didn’t want to be chased down and fight, like, genuine heroes.

So.

Yeah.

He figured that they should talk about It.

"It" being the situation.

Tim’s World.

(Tim’s fucking insane and very terrifying world. This was Tim’s home. Usopp was standing in another dimension. Kaya was never, ever going to believe this. Even though she believed most of his stories. Maybe he could get her something to help with her practice on Syrup Island here.)

Space, admittedly, was pretty insane, and Usopp knew that Luffy was going to want to figure out how to get the Sunny amongst the stars. Honestly, sure, he, Tim, and Franky had been talking about it theoretically on and off for like the past year. There were still a lot of unknown variables to explore, and space, according to Tim, was even more vast and dangerous than the sea. But that was a problem for Future Usopp.

Current Usopp had his own worries to deal with, and his mom would say that you can’t go borrowing trouble.

His mother, angel and saint she was, had never met Monkey D. Luffy: the King of Pirates and Savior of the World.

“I’m surprised they left us alone,” he said.

“Alfred is probably monitoring us. The whole house is wired,” Tim said. And wow, Usopp did not like the sound of that. “I made Nami pinky-promise not to steal anything from here or she would be in debt to me.”

The two money managers on their crew were utterly terrifying.

Tim made a noise of victory as the lock clicked open.

“Thank fuck,” he said. “Let’s get drunk.”

Oh yeah.

This was fucked.

Tim hated getting drunk. He’d get one glass, nurse it for hours, and roll his eyes when Zoro would try to get him to drink a little more.

“I don’t think that’s healthy.”

“All our weed and mushrooms are on the Sunny,” Tim said. “And I forget if we legalized it here yet or not. Plus, Bruce would get so fucking weird, and I don’t want to have the clear mind talk on top of the why are you a pirate talk that I’m sure if coming my way. Not that it would be a talk, of course.”

The Rogers Pirates that they met had the hook-up for some prime natural relaxation aids, especially Scopper Gabon. Sure, the Straw Hats supplement their income with a variety of weed-based products if only for the sake of their grocery budget. But it helped Tim with his anxious feelings and insomnia. Usopp knew it helped him with his own issues. Elbaf truly was a land that had kept on giving, even between the fights and terror.

But they were in Tim’s world for the next month, and all their personal stash was back on the Sunny.

And apparently, it wasn’t legal in this world.

No wonder he decided to break into a cabinet of nice booze with minimal fuss and was going to drink said booze with minimal fuss.

“Are you okay?” Usopp asked, knowing it was a dumb question, but doing Tim the courtesy of asking. He noticed the weird tenseness in the atmosphere with his family. He didn’t like the way this Bruce guy said “Report” to Tim like he was his friend’s captain. Like he expected Tim to fall in line.

He definitely didn’t like how that big beefy guy called Tim “Replacement” or how the kid glared at Tim over his vegetarian meal. The crew knew that Tim’s family was a minefield in a similar vein that the Vinsmokes were a minefield for Sanji. Sure, he had people he loved, but…

Well, there were a lot of things to fill within the space after that, but in Usopp’s opinion.

“I thought I was,” Tim said, grabbing bottles and putting them in the basket they had grabbed. Rather than the guest rooms in the West Wing, Luffy declared, as soon as they were given the illusion of being alone, that they should sleep together. Tim suggested one of the unused ballrooms that he knew had been cleaned recently. Because he had a freaky memory thing that meant nothing escaped his steel-trap of a brain.

Tim’s house had multiple ballrooms, and that, admittedly, was blowing Usopp’s mind a little bit. Even Kaya’s home only had the one. But everyone was given a job: Robin, Chopper, and Brook were collecting blankets (and raiding the library); Franky, Luffy, and Zoro were bringing down the mattresses and pillows; Sanji, Nami, and Jinbe were handling the kitchen with snack duty nearby (Usopp thought that their cook was going to cry when he saw the beautiful state of the art kitchen).

Tim and Usopp were getting bottles of liquor and something called a projector so the other man could finally show them movies and TV shows. He was, admittedly, pretty excited. When Usopp and Brook needed a break and Robin didn’t feel like reading to them, Tim would describe stories that he remembered from his world.

“Thought?” Usopp asked.

“I had five years to deal with my issues,” Tim said, examining bottle labels and picking ones seemingly at random. “And Marco was really intense about talking during our training and putting like old ghosts to rest. It was also close to therapy as we could find back home. I did put those ghosts to rest. But being back here, it just…it makes me feel like nothing has changed and I’m still that same stupid kid who was trying to make love happen when it couldn’t.”

It was at times like these that Usopp remembered that he and Tim were a lot alike. At least when it came to their issues of self-esteem and self-worth, except while Usopp’s was about his usefulness to the crew, Tim’s was about his place in his relationships with other people. It was a weird mirror image of each other.

Because Usopp knew how to read people, Observation Haki aside. You had to know your audience to craft a story, to tell the right sort of lie.

And yeah, there were the people who just didn’t like Tim, and Usopp didn’t even know how to read fucking Bruce. Cass, Barbara, and Alfred were so happy to see him. Dick and Stephanie seemed happy yet…guilty? It was a weird mess of emotions. But they loved him, people loved Tim here. And Tim was uncertain of where he stood because there were complications and hurt feelings.

Usopp can’t fix this. At least, not the way he usually fixed things.

There was no emotional patch to give his friend. Family was complicated. Usopp’s story, he thought, was like a hundred other stories out there of kids whose parents left to chase dreams of piracy or whatever. Some people thought he should blame his Dad for leaving, but he couldn’t.

Maybe that made him foolish, but sometimes, the fool was more needed than anything else. He was fine with that. Some families, however, like the complications of Tim’s were something a lot more heartbreaking in the long term.

“Well,” he said. “We love you, dumbass. And we’re not going anywhere. It doesn’t matter what your family says. We’re the Straw Hat Pirates, and we conquered the seas and became free.”

Tim looked up with those icy blue eyes.

And he smiled, his real, unrestrained grin. It made him look wild.

It made him look free.

Usopp beamed back.

“Now let’s go party.”

Bruce was glad for a relatively uninteresting night because it meant he could come home to the pirates in his house fairly early. Well, fairly early for him, of course. Alfred reported that they were in the ballroom on the West Wing, having grabbed several mattresses and blankets, and food to set up camp there. He also said it with a tone that said he did not appreciate being made to report on them.

Bruce had hoped that Alfred would have seen reason, but the older man was just too happy at Tim’s return. Tim, who was still planning to leave them anyway and go back to the pirate world. Tim, who had to have been changed in ways that Bruce couldn’t even account for yet.

Because, of course, Tim would get his hands on something that would allow him to traverse between worlds. And that could spell chaos if he gave it to other pirates.

He served the King, after all.

That meant that there were more subordinates out there. Even if they believed they were on the side of good. To what ends did they save their world?

But they were pirates, criminals, despite what Tim said under Diana’s Lasso of Truth. Bruce always knew that if his third Robin broke into criminal dealings, then he would be a terrifying opponent. And he served a terrifying person, who could alter the very fabric of the world if he so wished. Tim was willingly working for him and had willingly become a pirate.

He looked at the memorials for Jason and for Tim, both of their Robin costumes. The sons he had lost.

If he could get Tim back into the family, then it would be okay. If he could even to get Tim to renounce piracy, then perhaps that would be alright. He had to protect his son if he could. Or, well, he had to protect the world from the threat that his son now posed. But he could maybe get him back.

Tim could be reasonable.

Bruce could keep a better eye on him. He could get him on the right path.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said. “Perhaps you should go to bed. Maybe all will look better in the morning.”

“Hn.”

But he went to bed.

The pirates had taken over the West Wing ballroom, apparently.

Sometimes, Dick had to take a moment when he thought stuff like that. If only to reflect on how fucking weird his life had become over the years.

Patrol was fine. He went as Nightwing and took Damian with him. It felt good not to be wearing the Bat. Gotham needed Batman, but Dick needed to be Nightwing. Bruce, he could tell, was in a weird headspace over Tim’s turn to piracy, but he had been in a weird headspace since Tim had disappeared six months ago.

Dick didn’t really care if Tim was a pirate, if only because it wasn’t as bad as Jason’s descent into the criminal element. Wally said that Diana questioned him with her Lasso and that it all checked out. They weren’t heroes, but they weren’t assholes, and they helped save their world. So, yeah, Dick was willing to let it slide and not obsess over the whole piracy thing. They all had their issues, after all.

As far as they knew, there hadn’t been a duffel bag full of heads involved in Tim’s case.

Dinner went fine, even if the hug was awkward. Tim didn’t seem to hold any ill will toward him, but Dick knew they needed to talk sooner or later. He didn’t go to check on them at all when he returned from patrol; instead, he went up to his room in the East Wing to sleep.

The West Wing ballroom, which had a drawn Jolly Roger (a skull and crossbones with a straw hat) taped to the outside of the door, looked like someone had built the biggest blanket fort that they could and had a party. Dick had stuck his head in when he came down for breakfast, but didn’t stay long when he found it empty.

He closed the door and turned to head to the family dining room instead.

Which was an explosion of cheerful noise.

Bruce and Cass weren’t up yet, and Damian, the manor’s other regular occupant, was scowling down into his congee. The pirates, however, were demolishing Alfred’s pancakes with surprising speed.

Dick’s eyes instinctively looked for Tim, who was brazenly breaking Alfred’s “no computers at the table” rule and typing up a storm with a sharp look on his face. One of the women on his team, Nami, was looking over his shoulder excitedly and whispering into his ear. Tim smirked and pointed at something. She squealed and kissed his cheek.

“You,” Dick heard her say as he walked past, “are my favorite out of all the idiots.”

“Naaamiii-swaaan,” Sanji pouted pathetically. “I thought I was your favorite.”

The skeleton merely patted the blonde on the shoulder in a consoling manner as he sipped a cup of tea. He held it out for a refill as Alfred walked by. No one knew where it went when he drank it. But there wasn’t a fucking puddle on the floor even though he was a skeleton.

“I must say, Mister Alfred, this is a lovely blend.”

“Thank you, Master Brook,” the old butler barely batted an eye as he poured another cup. “I can give you the name of the tea shop that I use if you wish to go while you’re out shopping. Master Tim, you have three minutes to put the computer away.”

Tim grinned, looking like a sheepish kid; he was just six months ago in Dick’s eyes. Maybe even longer than that, “Thanks for the patience, Alfred. Nami and I are almost done discussing the budget.”

“Budget?” Dick asked.

His brother finally noticed him, “Oh hey, Dick. Yeah. Everyone needs clothes, so we’re going to the mall with that thrift store to get them soon. Plus, I needed to pay Constantine. He did a misdirect enchantment on some bracelets for Jinbe, Chopper, Brook, and Franky so people think they look like average humans vs them thinking that a new rogue is in the line-up.”

“Ughhhh,” Luffy groaned, and the swordsman grimaced. “We gotta go clothes shopping. But why?”

“Because Nami and I said so, Captain,” Tim said, pushing a pair of glasses up his nose. “Plus, we don’t have any clothes here that would fit everyone or their sense of style. We need to head into the mall. By the way, Zoro…”

Dick watched as Zoro stared down Tim.

“No.”

“It’s non-negotiable. You just get to pick the method.”

“I’m not that bad,” he insisted.

“Yes, you are!” all of the pirates chorused.

“Fine! Fine, I’ll take the damn pill.”

Dick blinked, “Pill?”

“Shishishi,” Luffy leaned up to whisper loudly in his ear. Like a kid telling a secret very badly. “Zoro gets lost easily. Tim said he needed to take a mystery pill or wear something on his clothes.”

Mystery pill?

Oh. One of those temporary GPS locators.

“Bruce won’t like that you took one from the Batcave.”

“Oh no, not having Bruce’s approval,” Tim said blandly as he put it in front of Zoro. “Whatever will I do?”

“-tt- My father took you in, Drake. Don’t mock his magnanimity.”

Dammit, Dick should have been watching Damian.

The chatter suddenly got quiet as every person turned to look toward Damian.

Tim, however, was merely focused on his computer, clearly ignoring him. The group’s eyes turned to him as if seeing what he would do.

“Can you pass the orange juice, Robin?”

Damian’s brows furrowed at the use of his codename, but the woman with long black hair merely smiled.

“Of course, Tim,” she said, crossing her arms.

Arms appeared on the table, like actual arms, as one grabbed the pitcher and passed it down the line. It seemed to startle Damian out of his annoyance and Dick was just downright creeped out.

Tim merely took the pitcher. “Thanks, Robin.”

“Of course,” she said, and the arms disappeared. “May we stop at a bookstore as well?”

“Oh! Oh!” the little deer person said excitedly. “Me too! Me too!”

Just like that, the moment was diffused.

It was all but forgotten when Bruce came in, grunting as Alfred poured him coffee and served him breakfast. Dick noticed how Sanji was keeping an eye on Bruce before slapping Luffy’s hand away from his own meal.

Tim didn’t even look at the head of the table. Instead, he drained his own cup of coffee and stood.

“Alright, I’m going to shower. You all have thirty minutes before we go and get everyone new clothes. Weapons stay here. Don’t give me that look, Zoro. You can’t have swords in public around here. Luffy or Chopper, who needs a bath?”

“Ugh, do I gotta?” the excitable captain groaned.

Tim merely hoisted him up and sniffed him.

“Yes. Yes, you do,” he said. “Come on, I’ll wash your back, Luffy.”

Luffy brightened at that slightly.

Chopper, there were just so many names for Dick to learn, shook his head. “I had one last night with Usopp! I needed to get that sand out of my fur.”

Why…did they need to bathe together? Bruce’s eyes were also furrowed, so this looked like news. Damian looked disgusted as what he probably saw as some kind of blatant disrespect.

But Luffy and Tim were out the door as breakfast immediately seemed to settle into an awkward silence.

One that Robin, actually named Robin, what were the odds, decided to break.

“Those of us who have partaken of the Devil Fruits of our world have issues with water. While the sea water is the most potent, as it was the Sea Goddess’s judgement that cursed the fruits, other forms of water make us woozy. It is common knowledge in our world, though I suppose it was our intelligence officer’s way of protecting us.”

So they were giving their kryptonite to Bruce, but also staking a claim on Tim. He’d protect his crew over giving the Bats any pertinent information about their weaknesses.

“He should have mentioned something yesterday,” Bruce said. “In case the battle was near water.”

The battle was in a desert, Dick knew.

“Perhaps,” she said. “But you could have asked well rather than demanding it of him. Please, after all, is something that most children learn at a very young age.”

She sipped her coffee before settling down on the saucer with a definitive clink.

“Tim is not your subordinate,” she said, putting plainly into words what had been observed over the past day. “He is a beloved part of our nakama, and he is the King’s Shadow. He was yours, but he is ours now. And he will not be taken from us. Nor do I believe he wants to be taken from us. Of course, if he changes his mind and sincerely does wish to stay, then we would let him because we respect his choices."

Her blue eyes peer out from under the shadow of her bangs. Expression serene and deadly all at once as she staked her claim.

"But, as of now, he has expressed no desire to do so. So let me make it quite clear, Mister Wayne: He. Is. Ours.”

It was as much of a declaration of war that Dick had ever heard. A proverbial gauntlet was thrown down.

The Straw Hats left at the table either erupted into cheers or merely met Bruce's eyes to smirk. 

Bruce narrowed his eyes.

Dick sighed.

This wasn’t going to end well, was it?

Chapter Text

Five Years Ago

As the Captain ran away from her, Robin heard the Tactician emerge from a nearby building. It was a miracle in and of itself that Enel hadn’t sensed him.

“He may come back,” she said as the Tactician kneeled next to her. “You should go.”

“You need help with the others, Miss Nico,” he said. “I’m the only one uninjured, well, mostly.”

When the Tactician had taken off his shirt, Robin had seen a nasty scar over the part of his body where his spleen would have been. It hadn’t taken much to figure out what had happened, and given how diligent the crew was with even his most minor injury, the lack of spleen seemed to be well-known and well-handled.

So, it wasn’t a huge surprise that he had done his best to keep from getting hurt and had succeeded enough to help her.

“How did you stop him from sensing you?”

The Tactician paused before deciding on honesty. “Meditation, my mentor learned how to slow his heart to the point that it seemingly faked death. I did that or at least something close enough to mimic it,” he sighed. “We need one fighter who hasn’t been…”

How absolutely fascinating, Robin thought. The Tactician was full of surprises, other alternate universes aside. That secret didn’t last long on the ship like the Straw Hats, and he seemed to accept her rather quickly as well, even if he matched her, calling them by their titles with Miss Nico. Not for a lack of naivete, but for something like understanding, Robin wondered what had happened to him back in his world to make those eyes full of such genuine empathy for her.

As if he had an inkling of the horrors that had plagued her throughout her life, and wanted to offer kindness in return. He was clever; perhaps he had figured something out.

However, to control one’s heartbeat in such a way, well, that could be very useful indeed. She wondered if he would teach her such a skill if they survived this. Perhaps they could figure out a trade of skills. There was probably something she could teach him in turn.

The Tactician was considering everything that had been destroyed. How shameful this Enel was, to be so callous with such history.

“Luffy should be fine, but we need to get off this level.”

“How are you so certain that he would be fine?” she asked him.

The Tactician sat back on his heels, “Enel is lightning. Luffy is rubber.”

He kindly gave Robin a minute to put together what he wasn’t saying. She watched as he checked the Swordsman’s pulse, then the Doctor’s, then Gan Fall, then Wyper. He nodded to himself as if pleased by what he found. He pulled out his pack and began to clean the Doctor’s injuries when her mind finally clicked in place what wasn’t said in fear of listening ears. Normally, she would have been quicker, but her ears were ringing a little bit, and her entire body ached.

But it did click.

“Oh! Truly?”

“Luffy was on the mast once during a thunderstorm,” the Tactician said. “I saw him get hit and be fine. No one else realized it, though. It was all kinds of crazy given how shitty the weather was.”

“And it didn’t surprise you?”

“After all the things I’ve seen between where I’m from and here?” he shook his head. He tied one last bandage on the Doctor. “Surprise isn’t really an emotion I get anymore. At least in regards to how people with powers have weird bodily quirks. Otherwise, I’d never get anything done.”

There was so much Robin would love to ask him about if she allowed herself to truly stay with this group. They never asked anything of her and never pushed for anything as well, only what she was willing to give. They just let her be with them without asking about her past or how she could read the poneglyphs or any of it. Perhaps it was funny, in a not funny at all way, that the safest place she had in years was with a bunch of kids with stars in their eyes.

She wondered if the Tactician felt the same way. Robin knew he was a similar age to the Captain and Long-Nose, all seventeen, but something in his gaze… It reminded her of her own tiredness with existence at times. It felt like there was something kindred about the pair of them.

She wondered what his world was like to give him such exhaustion in that gaze.

“Oh really?” she said instead.

“There’s a book in my world,” he said as if discussing the weather. Rather than something that not many people in this world would believe in or have any concept of understanding. “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, in it, she said that she tries to believe six impossible things before breakfast. Not the life philosophy I thought I was gonna end up adopting, but it’s made things easier when I fit the impossible into my worldview.”

Perhaps if they survived this situation, then she would ask him to tell that story the next time Long-Nose didn’t feel like spinning a fantastical tale.

“And yet you don’t believe in a god, like Mister Swordsman.”

“I don’t think that guy’s god,” he said, as he checked her over. He was very experienced in first aid: clinical and precise. “Besides, I met people claiming to be god, and I haven’t seen much proof yet of some sort of benevolent one. But there are greater things in Heaven and Earth and all of that, I guess.”

Fair enough, Robin supposed.

“What about you?” the Tactician asked. “Do you believe in a god?”

She tilted her head to the side, considering. She had never really thought about it much before. There wasn’t much in her life that allowed her to truly put her faith in anything.

Maybe Saul and his words, maybe her mother and her dreams, maybe…

“I’m not sure,” Robin said. “I suppose I need to think about it. But I believe in the Captain.”

Her words surprised even herself, but the young man had a track record of making miracles happen before.

Why not now?

The Tactician looked in the direction their leader had disappeared down.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding surprised. “So do I. I guess that’s faith enough.”

During The Straw Hats’ Separation

“Hey, Captain,” Yasopp said, pressing his spyglass to his eye. “There’s someone at our little getaway.”

Shanks didn’t groan, but it was a very near thing. The little island at the edge of Paradise and the New World was a favorite of their crew. It was uninhabited with a nice big cave, lots of fauna and flora to eat. It was pretty much the perfect spot to set anchor and have a couple of days off to party.

Their flag was on the island! That is the pirate equivalent of the most sacred of laws taught to children: finders keepers, losers weepers.

Listen, Gol D. Roger was a great man and a better captain, but Rayleigh was probably right when he said the man was childlike in many ways. Of course, Shanks is paraphrasing there. But it was one of the truest adages for being a pirate that Shanks had ever known.

“Let me see,” he said, grabbing the spyglass from Yasopp and looking through.

There was a tent on the beach along with a doused campfire and a sleeping figure seemingly drying off in the afternoon sun. There was no dinghy or rowboat or anything, which was…odd. It was like this person appeared on their island. But his Observation Haki didn’t ping anything dangerous.

Was it a trap? A trick? There were ways to fool even the most advanced users.

“Well, fellas,” he said brightly. “Let’s go see our mystery guest.”

Beck grimaced at his bright tone, which only made Shanks grin wider.

It didn’t take long for them to get ashore at their captain’s command. The figure was a guy, a teenager if Shanks had to guess, or very youthful looking, his lean body was sprawled out in the sunlight. There was an X tattooed on his left forearm. His black hair fell into his face, almost too pretty like that guy, Cavendish.

He was also not asleep.

“If you keep staring at me like that,” the kid said, not opening his eyes. “Then I’m going to have to charge you.”

“Maybe we should charge you, seeing as you’re on our island,” Shanks said.

The kid cracked open a bright blue eye at that, glancing around before landing on Shanks. He sat up and let out a jaw-cracking yawn, and rolled his shoulders. (Two more tattoos on the back, Shanks noticed, a stylized letter R and some kind of bird symbol on his right shoulder. How weird.)

The kid didn’t look all that concerned to be amongst pirates, a Yonko’s crew at that. He’d be offended if he weren’t so curious.

Instead, he looked up at Shanks for a long moment. It felt like he was being analyzed in a very uncomfortable sort of way, and that wasn’t really a feeling he was used to having. The kid, however, nodded to himself, “You’re Luffy’s guy. The one that gave him his hat and saved his life.”

“You know Luffy?” Roux said excitedly. Word on the kid had been sparse this past year and some change. No one knew where he had disappeared to after Marineford.

The kid laughed, “I should! Considering how I’m his intelligence officer.”

And at that, everyone seemed to relax. Shanks grinned wider.

“Well, that’s great!”

“Drake Tim,” he introduced. “Sorry. I didn’t know I was on your island. Marco dropped me off here like three days ago and said some of his friends would be by soon.”

Marco was playing hard to fucking get with Shanks’ heart.

“Why did Marco drop you off here?” Beck asked.

Drake grabbed a shirt from his pack, sniffed it, shrugged, and put it on.

“I finished my training with him, but he couldn’t take me to one of the more populated islands for what feels like fairly obvious reasons. So, he brought me here, said some friends of his liked to use this place to party, and that I could probably hitch a ride with stories about Luffy and Usopp and to tell the captain that he owed him a drink.”

Scratch that, Marco was a fucking tease and knew Shanks all too well. Yasopp, hungry for news about his son’s exploits, even if terrified of a reunion, was subtly giving the biggest puppy eyes ever to his captain.

“Well, what do you say, boys?!” Shanks called out to his crew. “We got a Straw Hat Pirate with us tonight.”

The crew roared back their agreement, and Drake grinned.

“You know, I can see the resemblance to Luffy now.”

Okay, that was a really sweet compliment about him and his Anchor. Dammit, now Shanks liked the kid.

“The Red-Haired Pirates will show you some proper hospitality!”

“Hell yeah!!” they cried back.

The party was a fun one with a bonfire on the beach and some of their more flavorful booze and fine food. Tim, as he quickly insisted, was a little on the thin side, expected with newly awakened Haki, even a few months in. But he was clever with a sly sense of humor that had Beck cracking a couple of times.

But the kid didn’t drink much booze, Shanks noticed. Intelligence officers were a tricky sort of bastards, and leave it to Luffy to find one of the best he could. Even so, as the party was winding down, he found himself sitting on the beach with the kid.

“Can I ask a question that has been bugging me for a bit?”

Well, Shanks would give it to the kid; he seemed to know beating around the bush wouldn’t get him the answers he wanted.

“I can’t say I’ll answer.”

“Luffy doesn’t like spoilers,” he shrugged carelessly. “This is all for my own curiosity.”

Ah, so nothing they said was getting back to his Anchor, then.

“Alright.”

“Luffy’s hat was Roger’s, wasn’t it?” Tim asked, icy blue eyes shining in the moonlight. “Had he already been crowned by you, Shanks?”

Oh damn.

“Figured out that much already, huh?” he laughed. “How?”

“I ended up on an island before I met Marco, with a pretty big library, and they had all of Roger’s wanted posters. I know that hat, and, well, it’s odd. We met Crocus, and Luffy met Rayleigh, and I keep thinking that he had been marked,” Tim grinned crookedly. “What if he was crowned already? Because of that Will of D thing. Roger asked you to keep an eye out for someone with his spirit.”

Oh man.

Luffy really did pick someone who was going to become a terror. Many pirate crews didn’t have an intelligence officer on their crew. A lot of them were just too certain of their own power, which would probably bite them in the ass. Intelligence gathering duties had been pretty split between Beck and Hongo over the years, which suited them fine enough.

But Tim, well, he was going to be an absolute monster. It’ll be interesting to see what people will make of brains without ego behind them.

“And if I did?” Shanks asked instead.

“Well, it doesn’t change much,” he said, shrugging. “Luffy will be King of the Pirates. I just like knowing if I was right or not. I miss detective work sometimes.”

Shanks had no clue what to say to that. But he was curious about one thing.

“And you’ll make him the King?”

They called Drake Tim the Kingmaker, if Shanks remembered correctly. He remembered all the bounty posters after Eneis Lobby. The kid snorted at that.

“God, you yell that at the asshole CP-9 director Spamwhatever as you’re kicking their ass one fucking time, and suddenly everyone is calling you that.”

Shanks snorted. He held out his cup in a cheers gesture.

“You’re a weird one.”

Tim clinked his cup against the Emperor's. 

“I don’t know if you have any room to talk.”

One Year Ago

“Tim! Tim! Tim!” Luffy said excitedly. He stretched his neck over Tim’s shoulder, draping himself like a scarf. Unlike Usopp or Nami, he didn’t flinch at the perceived creepiness of the act. His intelligence officer was fiddling with some kind of machine thing with that funny magnifier that jewelry guys wear pulled over his eye. Well, jewlery guys and Nami had one of her own when she was examining gems and treasure up close. “Nami said we’re coming up on a new island soon!”

“How fun,” Tim said, gently working some wires together. He made a noise of triumph at whatever machine-thingy that he was doing.

“What’cha doin',” Luffy sang in his ear. Tim was always working on something interesting or trying to recreate tech from his world. Sometimes, he even let Luffy and Zoro do what he called stress-testing. Nami said he was idiot proofing his inventions.

“I’m making us two-way radios,” he said simply. “So when we have to go off into groups, we can stay in contact and let each other know if there’s some trouble.”

“That would have been useful,” Luffy said, resting his cheek on his nakama’s shoulder. “But it can be useful now! Tim’s so smart.”

“We’ll have to see if it works first,” Tim said, but the captain could see the smile in his eyes. “But I guess exploring this island can be a test for it.”

“Shishishi,” he laughed. “It’ll be an adventure!”

The Shadow of the Pirate King knocked his head against the Pirate King’s own lightly.

“Yeah,” Tim said fondly. “It’ll be an adventure.”

Three Years Ago

“What a reason,” Nami said flatly after Luffy explained why he would never be a hero.

“No,” Tim said. “It makes sense.”

Everyone froze and looked over at him.

Right, Nami thought, he would know better than anyone else.

After all, Tim used to be a hero.

“Being a hero,” he said, looking at his Captain and Jinbe. “Is about being selfless, even when it’s at a detriment to yourself. The first time I was totally okay with putting my life on the line and dying for another, I was fifteen. Maybe? You give everything of yourself to The Mission: your relationships, your sense of self, your optimism, your joy. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll see a positive change in the world for it. Or maybe the place that you protect will eat you whole.”

Everything was quiet as Tim walked over, positioning himself behind Luffy like his shadow. His hands were in his pockets, his posture loose.

“Heroes are selfless to the point of selfishness. Because it is selfish to think your death will make others' lives better. You will still be mourned and missed. It will just be a funeral,” he paused. “No. The Captain wants everyone to eat their fill so he doesn’t have to share his portion as well. It is a kind of selfishness. And it’s not what makes a hero. Or, at least, how I was taught to be one.”

Oh Tim.

She was going to hug the shit out of him later.

It was the most he ever really said about what his life was like before he came here. He gave vague details. He gave bombshells. He cracked jokes on occasion.

But now it felt like Nami had a clear and horrible picture. Nami exchanged a worried look with Chopper while Sanji crossed his arms, and Robin tightened her grip on her bag a little tighter.

Tim then smiled at Luffy and at Jinbe, “I much prefer the Captain’s kindhearted selfishness then being a hero. But we are pirates, and pirates do whatever they want. And we want to help these people, right? And we want to help people achieve their dreams. If you want fish-men and humans to live together in harmony, then I think that’s a worthy dream.”

Luffy tipped up his hat and smiled at his intelligence officer. Jinbe looked slightly poleaxed, which, honestly, tended to happen when their intelligence officer was feeling philosophical.

“Shishishi,” Luffy laughed. “Right! And then we’ll have a party with lots of meat!”

Jinbe looked confused, but he didn’t know the entire story of Tim. So, it was okay that he was a little bit confused.

“I’ll give him all the meat he wants,” he said. “If he just does as I say.”

Luffy beamed at Jinbe.

“Okay!”

“Man, you’re gonna regret that later,” Tim said with a wry grin. “Though Nami will be glad for our purse strings' sake.”

“Damn right!” she said.

“Now,” Luffy declared, cracking his knuckles. “Let’s fight!”

Nami steadied herself. They had work to do, but she was definitely going to talk with Tim later. Once everything had settled down.

(“So being a hero,” she said much later.

“Not for everyone,” Tim said, resting his head on her shoulder. “I was damn good at it. But I would also probably be dead before I hit thirty. I much prefer being a pirate.”

Nami swallowed past a lump in her throat and kissed the top of his head.

“Same here.”)

Chapter Text

The shopping trip went with minimal casualties, tears, and villain attacks. Everyone got clothes, phones (along with a quick tutoring session by Tim), and a few miscellaneous items. The charmed items on Jinbe, Franky, Chopper, and Brook worked like a, heh, charm. People’s eyes just sort of slid off of any strange appearance that would cause panic in the city. So no mass panic due to his comrades' appearance.

Constantine had definitely earned his commission there.

And he'd better, because they were definitely using him again in the future.

Zoro only got lost twice (Tim was going to fucking microchip him with a tracker before they went back and looked into how to launch a small satellite back home), but the digestible tracker worked well enough in hunting him down quickly. Luffy won them a free lunch by beating the dodecatuple burger challenge (twelve stacked burger patties, a pound of fries, and a giant milkshake) twice in one sitting at the good burger place near Gotham Center Mall.

That made an impression, but there was no arguing with Luffy’s appetite. He was just thrilled that he got a picture on the Wall of Fame with his crew at his insistence, a new t-shirt, and free burgers for life. When they were in Gotham again, they would be abusing.

Tim, under the name Timothy Leander, had gotten two calls about interviewing Luffy on the local news. He wasn’t touching that with a ten-foot pole. Though he was looking up eating challenges that came with comped meals to help with food costs in the future. If there was one thing he trusted in, then it was his Captain’s bottomless stomach.

All in all, it was a largely successful day.

Mercifully.

Simultaneously, Tim wanted to go crawl into the Straw Hat HQ (the Wayne Manor West Wing Ballroom) and pass out on one of his friends until dinner. He also didn’t want to be around any of them either.

The duality of man.

Tim was also grateful that he still had all of his secret accounts and access to the Wayne Black AmEx card. It was a pleasant surprise when he caught up on his banking this morning. And it would help when, inevitably, the Straw Hats had to leave the Manor. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that they would hit threshold eventually.

Now, they were piled in the mini-bus that Bruce had on hand (probably for a Bat-reason, but it could play up the eccentric billionaire angle) and pulling into the garage.

“Alright,” Tim said as he parked it. “Everybody out, don’t leave the grounds, and please don’t antagonize my family or do something that will upset Alfred. We clear?”

“Yes, Tim,” the feared Straw Hat Pirates, crew of the Pirate King, chorused back like schoolchildren. Whether it was from sheer assholery or just the way they were as a person, it depended on who was saying it.

Zoro was, however, smirking at him because he was the worst asshole.

Robin patted his shoulder, “I’ll put your bags away. Why don’t you get some time to yourself?”

Tim loved Nico Robin. She was his favorite.

“You’re the best,” he said.

“I know,” she smiled warmly. “Now go.”

And he didn’t need to be told twice. He bolted out to the exit that would take him to one of the lawns to get a moment alone.

In direct contrast to his younger years, the quiet was a balm on Tim’s mind.

When he was younger, he hated the quiet. All he could hear where his own thoughts there. A lot of the time, his thoughts were mean or replayed all of his mistakes, all the ways he failed people. Or even whispered poisonous things like no one loved him enough to stay. Or, if he was really spiralling, the lure of existential dread and wondering about everything in the universe and if there was truly such a thing as a soul.

That was always fun.

Sailing with the Straw Hats, however, cured him of that sort of thought process. It was too loud, too much with them to get the sort of cloying quiet that could make him want to bury himself from the world until he rotted away. Plus, a boost to his self-esteem that seemed to happen via osmosis.

Having people around who he knew loved him and would miss him if he were gone, it helped a lot.

Now, he could appreciate the silence when he got it. Admittedly, he needed it with how crazy the past day had been. He was away from his family and their expectations (or grief), and he was away from the worried eyes of his friends. It felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting for someone to pop the bubble.

Tim did not want to pop the bubble.

All he wanted most in the world right now was one of Sanji’s edibles and to sleep for like two days. But he wasn’t getting that anytime soon, he could tell.

Tim had mourned. He mourned this world and this life. He made a new life. He made peace with his demons. He did the work. He forgave.

He found his peace.

And even though he still had it. Even though he had that certainty, the part of him that was still a hurt, teenage, burned-out superhero was making himself known a bit more. Trauma never went away in the end. You just learned to live with it.

From the very bottom of Tim’s heart, ugh.

Funny how going home made you feel exactly as you did as an angsty teenager, except Tim didn’t want that experience. Zero out of ten stars, he’d preferred to be on the sea. Or just not here, under Bruce’s roof, or in Gotham. All that this was doing was just reminding him of all the pain and grief that seemed to cling to this place like a ghost.

He wanted to see Bart, Cassie, and Kon. He wanted to see Ma and Pa Kent and eat like five of Ma Kent’s apple pies.

He wanted to travel with his crew and show them the world he helped save a few times over. Tim wanted to drive them cross-country, sea to fucking shining sea. He wanted to walk down busy city streets and small-town roads and sleep under a canopy of stars in the desert. He wanted to share what he could of his world with them.

It’s still part of me, he wanted to say. Even under a different sky and in the endless blue, this place is still part of me. I want to show you all of this, so you can understand.

He wanted to not fight with Bruce about his life choices and have to argue against a stubborn wall of paranoia. He didn’t want to have to fix Bruce for once. Tim didn’t want to be called “Replacement” or “Pretender”. He didn’t want to deal with Stephanie’s guilty eyes or Dick’s tense posture.

He just wanted to go.

But he won’t.

He wasn’t going to until he handled most of it, though.

Tim knew he was going to have to stay and handle this shit, though. At least for a couple of days, he wasn’t going to let it fester, and he wasn’t going to let it drag out. He was going to salvage what he could salvage because he still wanted his family, deep down, the Bats were his family.

Then he was going somewhere with his crew.

Ma Kent’s apple pie.

God, he had been dreaming of that pie more than Alfred’s chocolate chunk cookies.

A pulse of his passive Observation Haki told him that two people were approaching.

From above.

And someone else was running very, very fast from the direction of Keystone City.

Their mentors must have told them to give him twenty-four hours. He checked his watch, twenty-four hours on the dot after the Justice League went home after the Nika fight.

Tim stood up and braced himself.

“TIMMMMMMMM!!!!” Bart called as he sat up, barreling into him in a hug. His fluffy brown-red hair was windswept and wild. He was sobbing messily into his shirt.

“Tim!” Kon yelled, soul-deep relief.

“Tim,” Cassie said, tears in her eyes.

He could only smile, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes at seeing his friends for the first time in years. Even if he had to deal with his family drama around his brothers and Bruce, this is what made it worth it.

He pulled Bart closer and held his arms open for Cassie and Kon.

They looked so happy and tearful. He knew he looked the same.

“Hey, Young Just Us,” he said. “I missed you guys.”

And then he joined them in bursting into tears as well.

He hugged them so closely and tightly that his arms ached after they finally parted.

Tim’s friends had shown up from his teenage superhero vigilante days: Kon, Cassie, and Bart. Now those were names that everyone on the Thousand Sunny had heard over the years, told with fondness and joy and some sadness. But there was always love, no matter the accompanying emotion: uncomplicated and true love.

Sanji was viscerally reminded of the earliest days on the Merry before they had even met Chopper. Maybe they were a bit more world-wary than the nascent crew from the East Blue had been, but this Young Justice group still had that same spirit. He could see the same sort of nostalgic smile on Nami-swan’s face.

And, true to the spirit, the Straw Hats and the three active members of Young Justice got along like a house on fire. Or, well, that’s how the saying went, according to Tim.

Of course, commiserating over getting Tim to take care of himself turned out to be a great ice-breaker. Though Luffy and the speedy guy, Bart, seemed to recognize kindred spirits in each other immediately. They had been involved in a conversation so fast and animated that Sanji was making sure that his captain hadn’t accidentally activated Gear 2.

That new friendship was going to end in property damage or Tim’s inevitable first gray hair before the age of twenty-five (it was on the betting pool), but that wasn’t Sanji’s problem until it had to be Sanji’s problem.

But they were a good group, he thought. There was no tension in the air like the one that hung over the dinner the night before. Not that the tension could spoil Alfred’s wonderful cooking, of course. Food was still best served in an atmosphere that didn’t reek of regrets or control issues or barely concealed disdain or guilt.

However, Sanji was angling for that cookie recipe and maybe whatever the old man was up to sharing. He was willing to sit through a hundred awkward Wayne Family Dinners to have it in his repertoire.

The lovely Miss Cassandra and the delightful Miss Barbara definitely lightened the mood on his end, of course. Sanji loved fierce and brilliant women, hearing them talk or sign about what drove them. It was a lovely distraction from the choking black cloud that wanted to consume them.

Oppressive was a word to describe Wayne Manor. It was a place that was drowning in grief.

Not oppressive, the way Germa felt oppressive, but definitely a shroud, specifically from Bruce Wayne. No big surprise he didn’t agree with Tim’s choice of friends, career, or the fact that he was returning to his new home with his crew. It was clearly written all over his face if you knew how to look.

There was too much guilt, or love turned sour, or outright disdain in the manor house. Robin-chan liked to talk about how some people can “haunt the narrative” of certain books that she read. And, from what Tim had shared, there was clearly a fair share of people here who haunted this home.

Sanji lit a cigarette and leaned by the open window. Mosshead was sitting on the floor, watching the scene before them.

Luffy had apparently convinced Kon to arm wrestle him, and the captain was winning while Jinbe, Brook, and Tim looked on. Meanwhile, Miss Cassie was explaining to Robin-chan and Nami-swan about her mother’s work in antiquities. Bart was climbing all over Franky to examine his cybernetic parts while Usopp regaled him and Chopper with his (slightly) exaggerated exploits.

“They seem like good people,” he eventually settled.

“They love Tim,” Mosshead said plainly. “It’s uncomplicated, thank fuck. Everything in this house feels too fucking complicated.”

Stars fucking above and Seas below, wasn’t that the truth?

“Feels like a pot about to boil over,” he said instead. “Gotta watch it because when you’re back is turned…”

The swordsman grimaced and leaned back, “Kid that cut Tim’s line was looking for my swords earlier.”

It was annoying for Mosshead to go swordless, but Tim said no swords in public, and he’d called that Constantine guy again for some more charm bracelets that wouldn’t interfere with the, ah, special nature of the three swords. Some snot-nosed brat that cared about being a blood son trying to find Mosshead’s swords? Sanji could see a fight coming down the line.

Those things that Tim said were some kind of recording dial, a video camera, that he’d set up before he left, showed that their stuff was searched. At least, according to Franky who viewed the footage upon their return, Sanji was inclined to believe him. They’d break it to Tim later; no need to burst his bubble of happiness at reuniting with old friends.

“Remember when we were in the G8?” Sanji asked. “Hostile territory, it reminds me of that.”

“Tim was in his element then,” Mosshead said with a laugh. “I think being here is throwing him off more than he wanted to admit.”

Yet another reason why Sanji wanted to get out of this too fucking big house that gave him the creeps and go elsewhere until they could be sent home. But they couldn’t cut and run due to the tricky nature of their position and because this was Tim’s family.

And Tim, no matter what he said, did want a relationship with some of them. He missed them and grieved them. Now he had a chance to build something with them, and none of them were going to take that away from him.

They had to follow his lead here.

They had to trust him, like they did in G8.

Because at the G8, while they were hiding and trying to devise a plan, Tim disguised himself as one of the newly arrived Ensigns, green as green can be, and proceeded to hoodwink, bamboozle, and run mental circles around everyone there. He manipulated things just enough behind the scenes to give them advantages and an edge to get out of that Marine Base. The only one who had given him a real challenge was Vice Admiral Jonathan, but Tim had won in a battle of wits with the man, giving them time to escape.

Sanji was pretty sure that Vice Admiral Jonathan, one of the new Fleet Admirals of the shiny new Marine Corps, was one of Tim’s contacts. Not that their intelligence officer would say one way or the other.

It really did show off what their, at the time, tactician could do. It showed off how well he was trained for one so young; he had been trained for years beforehand. It soured something in Sanji’s stomach at the time; he didn’t really know how to name it.

He still didn’t know.

Sanji stubbed out his cigarette, “So we keep him focused. It’s been five years.”

Mosshead smirked, watching as Kon put Tim in a headlock while Usopp and Franky laughed.

“We’ll win, if it comes down to it.”

Well, Sanji couldn’t let him get away with sounding that smart.

“Fuckin’ genius deduction, asshole.”

“You wanna fucking go, Swirly Brow?!” 

Ah, all was right in the world again.

Nothing made sense.

Bruce looked over his notes and photographs of what was found in the search of the Straw Hat’s “room”. Weapons that weren’t easily hidden were left behind. Though Damian could not get to the swordsman’s swords. There was a giant slingshot and some specially designed ammunition, though it was hard to get a sample of any of it. A history book with notes written in shorthand on the corners.

But there wasn’t much given how lightly they came through to this world. Bruce did plant some bugs in the room, but he knew they weren’t going to last long. He had trained Tim far too well, far too thoroughly, especially in the wake of Jason’s death.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said, disapproval still in his tone. “Dinner is served for our guests. Master Conner, Master Bart, and Miss Cassie have agreed to join as well.”

Bruce couldn’t eat at that table again.

He remembered how Luffy smiled at him last night. This captain, who wielded the power of the god, had his crew under his thrall. He was an unpredictable element, a wild card in a way that made Bruce’s teeth itch. Luffy smiled at him as if to say, “See what I have taken from you, Bruce? Your son is mine now.”

He thought of Nico Robin in the morning, how she casually gave away their weakness. She made it clear that Tim kept it from him because they had the power even in Bruce’s home.

With Bruce’s family.

“I think I’ll take dinner in my study tonight, Alfred,” he said, glancing down at the pictures from his body cam. The fight against the curse…

He needed a way to protect himself and others that wasn’t an indeterminate amount of water.

Alfred’s mustache twitched in a way that was sending off warning bells in Bruce’s mind. Though he would prefer to ignore them.

“If I may speak so boldly, Master Bruce,” the butler said.

He looked up from the picture of Tim, divebombing a foe with a shimmer of power that seemed to surround him.

“Yes?”

“Your mother had a saying she was fond of,” Alfred said, voice in fond reminiscence as time had dulled his grief. “Don’t go borrowing trouble. Our guests, while enthusiastic and lacking in more refined manners, have been nothing but kind and accommodating. More importantly, they are Master Tim’s family as well. I do not presume to understand what the young Master has been through these past five years, that he lived in another world. Just as I do not presume to understand what Master Jason had gone through, even though he has told me some of it. Nor do I presume to know what everyone in this house went through in the six months that Master Tim went missing.”

His grey eyes seemed to pin Bruce to his chair.

“But I know what evil men and women look like, Master Bruce. As do you. If you wish for Master Tim to stay in your life in whatever capacity, then I suggest you stop trying to borrow trouble when there has been none given in the first place. When their only crime is that they are powerful and that they are pirates. Pirates who, verified by Miss Diana’s lasso, saved their world. Their only crime is that they are Master Tim’s family as well.”

Alfred stared at him, daring him to look away.

He broke eye contact with the butler first.

“Your opinion has been noted, Alfred,” Bruce said, shuffling papers on his desk. “But I will still be taking my meal in my study tonight. Damian is welcome to join as well if he doesn’t want to deal with the noise.”

Alfred’s gaze was still disapproving, but it seemed to thaw ever so slightly at that.

“Very well, Master Bruce. I shall let Master Damian know.”

The door closed behind him with a final sounding click.

Bruce felt the muscle work in his jaw. The too raw grief of the mention of his mother, of the mention of Jason, of Tim before, it landed a direct hit into his heart. He had so many failures and those three were amongst the worst of them.

Sure, the Straw Hat Pirates were helpful when asked. But they were pirates. They demanded payment in turn for their aid. Their captain called himself the Pirate King while playing as a god. The cult of personality that surrounded him could bring people to their knees. And he didn’t understand any of it.

Because what if they decided to break bad? There were ways to get between dimensions, ways that Tim had access to now. What if he decided to tell other pirates about it? Then they would have pirates with unknown powers from an alternate dimension coming to their world. How would they deal with that?

No, he decided. Alfred’s view was too soft.

The world was a terrible place, full of danger and horror. And it only got worse as time passed.

Batman needed to make sure that he was prepared for any sort of eventuality.

Even his own son’s betrayal.

Chapter Text

Five Years Ago

“What should we do with Tim’s Marine uniform?” Long-Nose asked as he stared at the too white garment.

Mister Tactician had worn it back onto the ship along with other bits of his stolen disguise. He was masterful, so good as to escape Robin’s notice, and that was a true talent. He had pulled the cap off in a dramatic reveal to the shouts of the Marines as he bowed before Vice Admiral Jonathan to the hoots and hollers of the other Straw Hats. The rest of the costume had been divested once they were safely back to sea: the deflated octopus untied from the mooring and released. They were sailing off to destinations unknown to everyone except Miss Navigator.

Tactician claimed that he needed a bath and dragged the Captain with him because “you had a fucking octopus down your pants,” while the Captain shouted that he didn’t get what the big deal was. Mister Long Nose toed it, uncertain if they should ditch it overboard or cut it up for scrap cloth.

Robin wouldn’t, of course. It would be a waste of a perfectly good disguise.

Before she could voice her opinion, a freshly clean Tactician appeared out of the shadows, making Long Nose jump in his skin. She merely chuckled.

It was impressive how he kept his feet so quiet. Even on the Merry, it seemed like second nature to him to keep them quiet. She wasn’t even sure if he realized he was doing it or not.

“Keep it,” he said simply, picking up the clothes to fold. “Never known when we need Ensign Wayne to make another appearance. It’ll be good to have a rotation of personas on standby. Especially if we end up having to run amok in a Marine base again.”

Ah, she wondered what sort of training he had in his mysterious other world: infiltration, espionage, and escape, then. That made sense and seemed in line with what she had seen of him so far. She always assumed superheroes, from how few of them she had seen in media, were supposed to be big and flashy. Also, always on the side of the Marines.

It looked like, perhaps, in the Tactician’s world, things were less clearly defined.

“You were very good,” Robin said from her seat, resting her chin in her hand. “You even had me fooled.”

He grinned at her.

“You were magnificent yourself,” Tactician said as he took a seat next to her. There was an air of pride, earned and not ostentatious. It was rather like Vice Admiral Jonathan’s. “But no one pays attention to low-ranking staff. Nami picked critical care that had supervisors who needed to keep things ticking along: a janitor, a nurse. Luffy and Sanji stumbled into their roles, and sooner or later, the chefs they were impersonating would have shown up. And you were big as the special investigator; more eyes were on you, Miss Nico.”

How very true, but one must work with the hand they have been given. Robin felt that she had done well with what she had been given overall.

But she could see how his choice was the best.

“While you disguised yourself as a young ensign, so any apparently minor blunders you made were due to inexperience versus malicious intent. One who had been established at the base beforehand,” she murmured, pleased by his clear cleverness. He was smart, this one. “Did you choose one who seemed the type?”

“He bowed to a superior officer and spilled the papers and coffee he was carrying,” the Tactician said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not sure what the glasses were for, though. He could see just fine.”

“Maybe your eyes are bad,” she said, teasing him slightly. “Perhaps the good Doctor can take a look, Mister Tactician.”

He snorted.

“Did you go undercover a lot?” Long-Nose asked excitedly, having been following their conversation. Robin thought he could be good at undercover work if they could tone down the grandiose nature of his lies and calm his easily flustered nature.

“Enough,” Mister Tactician said. “I had identities that I kept active and others that were just in case of a quick escape.”

He leaned back in his seat, staring at the ceiling.

“Maybe I’ll see if Nami will give me a bit of the money to do that,” he said, looking at Robin. His gaze was sharp and searching. “Would you like to join me?”

Hmmm.

“Perhaps,” she said.

It would be unwise to allow herself to get too attached.

One Year Ago

“I visited Ace’s grave,” Tim confessed as he sat next to Luffy. Yesterday, they celebrated their Captain’s twenty-first birthday. These two things were connected.

Luffy had lived one whole year longer than Ace.

Tim knew that his captain was reckoning with it.

“You did?” he asked quietly. He had been somber after the huge party with all of their allied crews and dear friends yesterday. It was only befitting, of course, for the Pirate King to celebrate and be celebrated so grandly. People were still recovering, scattered along the beaches and the ships and in the trees, probably.

Perhaps now it hit Luffy that he was a year and a day older than Ace would ever be. There was a sort of tragedy in that. Tim wondered how he would feel when he lived past the birthdays that his parents never got to have. Probably not as bad, but that was because of his own complicated relationships with his parents.

He loved Janet and Jack Drake. He had fond memories of them and cared for them. He grieved for them as a child could only grieve a parent. However, Tim wasn’t blind to their faults. He wasn’t blind to a childhood of nannies and maids and boarding schools. He wasn’t blind to how lonely and neglected they felt.

They weren’t monsters, of course. They were people doing and trying their best.

It just wasn’t good enough, unfortunately. As a result, he didn’t know if he liked his parents very much. As a result, Tim wasn’t sure if he would have a reaction if he outlived them.

Bruce, he thought, probably would have a big reaction when he lived past his parents’ ages. A selfish part of Tim was glad that wasn’t his mess to deal with now. While he was really good at piecing together that grown man, it didn’t mean he wanted to anymore.

Not that he would ever see Bruce Wayne again anyway. It’s been four-ish years. He was never seeing his home again. And, of course, there was his own set of complicated feelings that he was working through.

Tim realized, through talking with his nakama and others, that it wasn’t on him to do such a thing. He was a kid. The adults should have done something. Someone older should have helped.

But that was the case for Sanji and Nami and Robin and, well, the point was probably made.

“It was for a selfish reason and maybe a selfless one,” he watched a fish jump from the water and dived back in. “And maybe I had a theory.”

“Huh,” Luffy said, but it sounded more interested than distracted.

“In the multiverse,” Tim began, which immediately caught his captain’s attention. He didn’t like to talk about the multiverse often and only around those he truly trusted like his crew. The technology level of The Blue Planet was all over the place. He didn’t want people to start messing with dimensional travel and find his world.

That could be bad.

Given how sturdy even the most ordinary person of this place could be, let alone some of the powerful people.

(Of course, if Luffy asked, then Tim would find a way to travel the multiverse. He had knelt before his captain and promised him anything he wanted in this world. Long ago when he was the Kingmaker, he became his Captain’s knight. Not that Luffy realized it. Or even demanded Tim’s loyalty from him.

He had it all the same.)

So, when he did talk about dimensional travel as a whole, it tended to be something that people listened to.

“In the multiverse,” Tim said, finally gathering his train of thought. “There are echoes. There are different yous out there. Sometimes, you have the same name or the same family, but maybe your dream was different. Or you made a key choice that was different. Like there’s a universe where you did become a Marine or one where you didn’t eat the Gum-Gum fruit.”

Luffy wrinkled his nose thoughtfully, “So like Bonney?”

Tim smiled and nodded.

“Kind of,” he said. “Bonney’s Age-Age fruit lets her imagine things, potentialities. She imagined a timeline where she could become Nika, so she does.”

“So, there are echoes of people?”

“Yeah,” Tim said. “In some, it's potential lives you could have led, and others are more like potential people you could be.”

“And you thought Ace was like that?”

Tim thought of Portgas D. Ace with a fire in his eyes and a love for his family. The way he couldn’t let go of an injustice done to him, and a tragedy that no one was quick enough to stop. Hell, he was even kidnapped adjacent to join a family after attempting to commit a crime against the family patriarch. 

“I thought he was an echo of my brother, Jason,” he said, fighting the urge to rub one of the scars the man had given him. They weren’t really brothers, despite being adopted by the same man. “Or that Jason was an echo of Ace. Before he was murdered, resurrected, and shoved into a Lazarus Pit.”

Luffy tilted his head thoughtfully.

“Did you think someone was gonna do that to Ace?”

Did he? Tim wasn’t sure. As far as he could tell, mercifully, no Lazarus Pits had existed on this version of Earth. He just remembered thinking that he had to know and make sure for himself. Because Ace had been nice to them and loved Luffy so much. Tim could tell that he was the kind of man who probably bragged about his little brother. Maybe it was wishful thinking a bit.

Maybe he was trying to convince him, while watching Luffy and Ace interact, that if Jason had lived and Robin had been passed on naturally, then maybe they could have had a relationship like that. Maybe it was wishful thinking and putting stuff on someone who didn’t ask for that kind of stuff to be put on them.

But he just knew that Ace could have been Jason and Jason could have been Ace.

Tim had to make sure of Luffy.

“Six months after Jason died,” he said instead. “He came back and had to dig himself out of his own grave. He had really severe brain damage, which was why Bruce didn’t know. He fought on the streets for a few months until Talia al Ghul found Jason and brought him to the League of Assassins. Then the Pit happened to heal him totally.”

It was very quiet and loud in the way it always was with his passive Observation Haki. Tim could hear the rustling of the sails and the lapping of the waves, and his birds singing and chirping. He knew that Lucky Roux was sucking on a bone in his sleep, and Usopp coughed.

He couldn’t look at Luffy’s face.

“I didn’t want that for your brother in case it happened here.”

He had hidden a shovel in the woods as a precaution and listened, listened, listened. He was, apparently, so close to forcing his Observation Haki to awaken by trying to make sure his captain’s brother hadn’t woken up in his own grave, screaming that it barely took Marco any time at all to get it to fully awaken.

Suddenly, all Tim could smell was meat and smoke and something so distinctly Luffy. His captain had his arms wrapped around him tightly, looping several times, and buried his face into Tim’s neck.

“Thank you,” Luffy said. It sounded like a prayer. Funny, Tim thought, for an avatar of a god. But he still prayed right back at him.

Luffy, who had seen Tim falling and caught him.

Luffy, who had given him a home and never laughed at his small dream of just wanting a family who wanted him back without strings.

Luffy, who had loved Tim like it was easy when everyone else before had made it feel like it was so very hard.

“Anything for you,” he said because it was true and the only prayer that he would ever know. It was tattooed on his heart. It was the same with the other members of the crew.

Anything for Luffy, they would expect nothing less.

Tim would do anything for the Straw Hats just as he would do anything for Young Justice. As he would have done anything for Bruce, even if it meant breaking all of the rules the man had placed on himself and others.

But Monkey D. Luffy was special, special in a way only ten other living people truly understood down to their bones.

He felt a wet spot form on his shoulder.

“Do you…I’m gonna keep on getting older and he’s still gonna be…”

There it was.

Just as Tim had hoped. Luffy needed to let out the grief; otherwise, he would have tried too hard to compensate for it. He twisted around in Luffy’s grasp and hugged him back.

“I know,” he said softly instead. “I’m sorry.”

And he meant it from the very core of him.

Luffy only hugged him tighter and buried his face deeper into Tim like it was one of the safest places in the world.

Tim would tear down the heavens themselves and spit at the Devil’s feet in order for it to remain that for his Captain.

Just as any other member of the Straw Hats would, just as Sabo would do, just as Ace did when he was alive.

Three Years Ago

Ever since he unlocked his Observation Haki, and now that he had a minute to really breathe, Usopp could admit he really didn’t know how to train it. Luffy, he knew, wouldn’t be able to help with that sort of training. Zoro? He was scared to ask for help for that sort of training. Sanji got weirdly twitchy when asked about how he unlocked his Observation Haki, and Usopp wasn’t touching that.

So, really, it left Tim.

Who, from what he understood from his friends who had awakened Haki and had training, was apparently a whole other level in that field. Given that Tim was from a world where he was a teenage superhero, had figured out multiple heroes’ identities when he was nine, and was considered one of the best detectives in said world, Usopp’s thought was, yeah, no shit that Tim had insane Observation Haki because it was literally the most Tim power ever.

More to the point, Tim actually had experience in helping others train, so really, it was the best option. When Usopp asked for the assistance, his friend smiled and agreed.

(It warmed Usopp’s heart to see Tim smile so freely now. He remembered when they had first picked him up, and in those quiet first days way back when at the start of the Grand Line. Every laugh, every smile, felt like finding treasure for Usopp.

He was worried when they met up again. Maybe he was scared that Tim had regressed? It sounded like he didn’t do well alone. He was thinner and looked tired and had, like, every bird under his thrall, without eating a Devil Fruit, but he smiled easily. And that eased at the little Tim knot in Usopp, like how Luffy being Luffy eased the gigantic Luffy knot in Usopp.

He was always going to be an anxious guy, but he had worried about his friends so much during those two years.)

He had to admit that the meditation had thrown him off guard.

“Really?” he asked.

Tim looked up from where he sat cross-legged on a floor pillow that Nami had picked up from somewhere. Maybe Alabasta? They had had it since Merry, he remembered that much.

“I think it would be more beneficial to you than throwing you off the deep end and expecting you to swim,” he said. “Zoro, Robin, and I meditate together sometimes. It’s nice. I could take you on the island and play the world’s worst game of hide-and-seek until you force your Haki to look for me. I promise it won’t be as easy as it was with Sugar.”

Usopp plopped down on the pillow.

“Marco said my Haki presented differently,” Tim said. “And it’s a little weird. Like it’s always on because that’s how my brain was trained beforehand. But you notice things as well, so maybe this won’t be as hard as we’re both fearing.”

Usopp felt the tension slip from his shoulders.

Terrifying as Tim was, he knew that he would have gotten it in the way the others didn’t. In his world, Tim was like Usopp: the only normal person on a team of powerful people. And Tim led them. He had long let go of his Captain Usopp fantasies; the only Captain was Luffy, but it was comforting to him. That someone knew the kind of insecurities that he had always ready and waiting to make their ugliness known.

(Tim had looked so understanding when Usopp joined them on the Sunny after apologizing that it made him want to cry and hide in a hole to never see the sun again.)

“You worry too much in the moment,” he said softly. “And this’ll help you not worry like that. It helps me when the overload of information gets to be too much.”

Usopp closed his eyes.

“Alright then,” Tim’s voice was warm and kind in the dark behind his own eyelids. “Open your mind and breathe.”

Five Years Ago

Sanji watched as Mosshead held Luffy back from running after Robin-chan. They needed a plan to figure out how to get a key.

Which should be where their tactician came in.

Tim, however, was, carefully and thoughtfully, tapping his bo staff on the ground.

“Well?” the cook said, looking over at him. “What’s the plan?”

“Get the key, of course,” he said, still tapping his staff on the ground. He had been quiet and thoughtful ever since the Puffing Tom, when Robin had gone with Blueno. But Sanji had only seen a cold sort of satisfaction when Luffy ordered Usopp to burn down the World Government’s flag.

He wasn’t sure if Tim was retreating into his shell or if their tactician was putting his genius brain to turning over issues in his head and making connections with what scant information he had.

“Or I get to Robin first,” he continued, shocking Sanji back to himself. The chef had never heard Tim call Robin-chan by her first name. She was always Miss Nico, just as she called them by their roles on the ship (or Long-Nose in Usopp’s case). “Birds shouldn’t be caged, especially robins.”

He felt a little lost there. Maybe there was another reason why Tim had his walls up and was keeping his emotional distance from the situation. Sanji, however, was never going down that route.

It reminded him too much of his family.

“Presumably,” Tim continued. “There are ways to discern what key goes into what handcuffs. Given that I don’t think much of Spamman’s intelligence. I’m guessing they are numbered. So get the keys or figure out what handcuffs Robin has to pinpoint our search. We, however, need to go through the building in order to fight CP-9. Otherwise, they will know what we know.”

“Huh?” Nami asked.

Tim slammed his bo staff on a patch of stone with a decisive thud.

A hole opened in the floor.

“That this building has secret passages and tunnels,” he said. “My guess is that the Gates of Justice are all for show. Instead, there is probably an underground or sea tunnel that will take you where you need to go on the other side. Robin will be transported there.”

He looked up from under his lashes as he sat with his legs dangling in the hole.

“You all need to keep the CP-9 agents distracted,” Tim said firmly. “Franky…”

The cyborg had been watching the proceedings with interest, but he suddenly straightened at the flat and assessing gaze on him.

Sanji really wished he knew what was going on in Tim’s head.

“You and Spamdam have a history?”

“Yeah,” Franky said. “You could say that.”

Their tactician hummed thoughtfully.

“I want half of him. Top or bottom or right, or left side. Your pick.”

Sanji realized that Tim was offering Franky the choice of which part of the leader of CP-9 he wanted to beat. It was the coldest that he’d ever seen him.

Not cold in like how his brothers were cold, not with emotion.

But cold in a way that he was desperately trying to keep his emotions in check, look at the situation logically, and plan.

The cyborg seemed to have realized this as well because he didn’t put up a fight over the offer.

“I rearranged his face so I wouldn’t mind focusing solely on kicking his ass.”

“Alright then,” the tactician looking at them all. “Assume they have Devil Fruits until proven otherwise. Get all of the keys. If we can nab some seastone cuffs, then that could be good too. I have some of the strongest lockpicks ever made, so I’ll give it a go too. Captain…”

Instinctively, Sanji looked over to where Luffy was.

He wasn’t there anymore.

Of course, he wasn’t.

Tim sighed.

“I’ll go explore the passages and try to bring Luffy with me. Be smart in these fights. I don’t understand their fighting techniques yet. They’re different from back home.”

Well, that was cold comfort.

“Hey,” Franky said, lifting up his glasses. “Why do you want Spamo? Outside of the obvious.”

Tim’s hands clenched around the length of his bo staff.

His knuckles were almost white, Sanji realized.

“There was a very, very bad man back where I lived. Spamdam has the same laugh. And he has a Robin,” his eyes were distant. “Last time that happened, a bird got its wings cut.”

And then he disappeared down into the hole.

Sanji had to ignore the sick feeling that twisted in his gut at his crewmate.

“Alright,” Mosshead said firmly. “We have our orders. We have to save Robin.”

The cook went to follow, but if they survived all this, then one of them was definitely going to be talking to their tactician.

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson was supposed to be a brave man. He knew this. Everyone around him knew this. It was a core trait of his character in and out of costume. He was supposed to be a brave man.

And, in a sense, he was a brave man. He was a hero. He saved the world. He saved people. He made the conscious choices night after night to go out into the world and try to do better. That, in and of itself, required an act of bravery. He tried, in his own way, to make the world better. That took a sort of bravery.

However, Dick seemed to lack that bravery when having to talk about difficult things with those he loved. Things in the Manor didn’t get talked about. At least, not the big emotional things; those landmines were only there to be pressed on and blown up in a dramatic fashion. Maybe it made him conflict adverse?

Maybe it made him scared to talk about the hard things. God knows all of his exes had things to say about that.

Or maybe it was a lack of bravery in admitting his own mistakes.

Or maybe…

Maybe he was just scared to apologize to the kid who looked at him like he could do anything, like he was his whole world. He would never regret giving Damian Robin. He needed what the title could give him, especially in the instability of his father’s “death”. Besides, Dick would never feel comfortable being Batman with Tim as his Robin. The inherent power dynamics in such a relationship were never equal to him. Though his successor, who made Robin into his own hero, would have disagreed.

Dick saw Robin as belonging to Batman, or at least being subordinate to Batman. Tim saw Robin as belonging to only himself and assisting Batman. These differences would have driven a different sort of wedge between them. And all he could remember were his own final days as the Boy Wonder and how much he and Bruce fought.

He never wanted that with Tim.

No.

Tim was Bruce’s. Damian was Dick’s. Sometimes, the distinction was there because it had to be. But he did regret how it shook out. He wanted it to be…easier?

Smoother.

Fuck, he wanted a least one of the passing-the-torch moments for his old title, the precious name his parents would call him, to be a joyful occasion. Maybe it just couldn’t be. Not when the name was as soaked in grief as it was. Robin existed because Dick’s parents died just as Batman’s own existence hinged on death. Maybe that’s why misery seemed to befall them. Zatanna and Raven would often say that intention in creation could lead to certain energies attached to objects and names.

Maybe there was no way of escaping that.

So Dick…hid.

In his own way.

He had kept his distance and observed.

Tim’s friends (new family) were loud. They seemed to fill up every space that they were in. Dick knew that Bruce’s paranoia was acting up in the way that it did when faced with something he couldn’t control. Maybe he even thought they were a cult. That was a trainwreck that Dick would like to avoid.

No.

What he saw filled him more with bittersweet yearning. It was how he felt nowadays when looking back at the old photos of the early days of the Teen Titans or in his earliest days of Robin when things seemed like it would be happier.

They loved Tim, these pirates from another world. They loved him with a sort of naked abandon that Dick once did before things got complicated.

Why did everything get so complicated?

Death, tragedy, and Bruce’s worsening personality would become an issue at some point. Dick just had no clue how to solve it.

How do you help someone who doesn’t want to be helped?

(If he knew that answer, then Gotham would have a lot fewer Rogues.)

So he was taking Damian on patrols as Nightwing since Bruce was staying in Gotham (Batman Inc be damned for the next month, apparently) and out of costume was trying to get the boy out of the house. He knew the youngest didn’t appreciate the noise, and there was a fight brewing.

Zoro, with the three swords, was going to get challenged at some point, and it worried Dick. Because these were people who fought for a different kind of survival. And while Damian’s personality could be trying at times, he was doing better.

Rome wasn’t built in a day or whatever. And you can’t undo a lifetime of brainwashing and love-bombing in a year. As much as Dick wished he could, because the real glances that he saw of Damian showed a good kid.

Still, right now, he thought it was good that the youngest Wayne was out of the house.

But Damian was at school, so he had no excuse.

Babs told him to just “talk to him already, Dick, Jesus Christ, it’s been five years for him”. 

And that missing time ached at him like a limb. His little brother had grown into a man in what felt like the blink of an eye. And those five years were shown in how he had changed and the love that he was surrounded by.

Tim was suddenly older than Jason, in his twenties, and utterly confident in the world. He had become everything Dick wished for him.

He laughed more easily and smiled more freely. He dressed like a skater punk that he always was, and even bought a new board. Tim broke Bruce’s rule about tattoos while he was away. He had three of them now. One was one that several of the Straw Hats shared: an X on their forearm.

Dick didn’t know if Bruce knew yet about the other two. He only saw because Tim’s flannel had fallen off his shoulder and his tank top moved a specific way, and…there were his two hero symbols: the R from his Robin days and the emblem of Red Robin on his back.

There were new scars and new memories.

Tim was a new person.

Dick was different now than he was at twenty-two, than he was at seventeen. You changed so quickly and grew so much throughout your life. You felt fundamentally the same, but you changed as you gained new perspective and understanding.

This Tim was a stranger, but a loved one. One that Dick wanted to know again.

And they weren’t once was the thing. They were brothers. They loved each other.

Dick still failed Tim like he did with Jason.

And Dick wanted that back. He was selfish, but he wanted that back. He wanted to have a relationship with Tim, even if he was going back to the Pirate World.

So, he was taking Babs’ advice, and he was going to do it.

He knew the pirates hadn’t made plans to go out today. He overheard them after dinner last night as he was coming on patrol. Apparently, they were playing smart and wary about Gotham, even with their obvious power. The last Arkham breakout wasn’t that long ago, so it meant that there was a predictable lull as people went back into their hidey-holes and dosages were upped in the Asylum.

Still, they were here today.

So, Dick was gonna talk to Tim today.

He had to. They couldn’t keep holding onto this…tension. Maybe it was one-sided. Maybe it was on his end. But he needed to just talk with him.

He wanted his brother back.

“Master Richard,” Alfred said. He snapped back to himself.  “Are you alright, my dear boy? You were away with the fairies.”

“Oh,” he said, tearing his gaze away from the Manet that he had spaced in front of. It was a favorite of Martha Wayne’s. “Sorry about that, Alfie.”

The butler’s eyes narrowed as he noted the avoided question.

“Are you sure you’re quite alright?”

“Yes,” he lied. “Do you know where Tim is?”

Clearly, his lie didn’t work on Alfred. They never worked on Alfred. But the man seemed to do Dick the courtesy of pretending that it did.

“Master Tim and the rest of his friends had gone to Drake Manor,” the butler said. “Apparently, the pool is empty, and Captain Luffy wished to learn how to skateboard.”

Bruce had bought Drake Manor and all of the Drakes' belongings that were sold off to pay for Jack Drake’s extensive medical care when he was in the coma. Not that the man knew this, of course, he would probably hate it if he were still alive. The house, profits, and belongings were currently held in a trust until Tim turned twenty-five. Dick knew because he saw the paperwork when he went through Bruce’s things after his presumed death.

It didn’t surprise Dick that Tim knew about it.

It was an awkward gesture of affection, though with a lack of understanding. Bruce had issues sometimes with children and parents. His own memories of Martha and Thomas Wayne were touched with nostalgia and the holy light that seemed to surround people when they died. Granted, even with Alfred’s more grounded recollections, his adopted grandparents did sound like amazing people. But it did cause a bias in Bruce that others would want the legacy that had been left to them.

Tim wouldn’t want the house or the things of his family. The love Tim had for his parents was complicated, which was fair. Dick’s own feelings regarding the Drakes were similarly complex. You could care for people, but not agree with the choices they made. He’d probably sell off most of the stuff when he assumed control of the trust.

But if Dick took the out laid before him, then who knew when he was going to get his nerve back again?

“Thanks, Alfie.”

“Good luck, Master Richard.”

Yeah, Dick was going to need it.

Skateboarding was really fun! Luffy could see why Tim loved it so much. He liked it much better than roller skating. Maybe it was because he knew how to balance on a surfboard? Even if he had to wear the floaties so he didn’t drown like a fucking dumbass (Sanji’s words as he shoved Luffy’s arms into them).

Though admittedly, Tim’s hoverboard thingy was a lot cooler and more familiar. Anything that lets you fly automatically is a win, according to Usopp. And that was an assertion that Luffy could get behind.

Flying was the absolute best and most free feeling ever. It was his favorite part of Gear 5 or the skywalking thingy. There was something so peaceful in just…being weightless. 

But Tim was laughing, and the tension in his shoulders that had appeared when they saw his childhood home was gone. There were a lot of painful memories here, Luffy knew. You didn’t get a loneliness that clung to Tim without a lot of people screwing up.

But maybe they could get some happy memories for him here.

Joy, he’s learned, can reclaim even the worst memories. It can turn them into sources of strength, even when it hurts.

Maybe even especially then.

That’s the problem, Luffy believed, with the Bat-guy and most of his kids. It was like they were afraid of being happy. Like the world had to be dark, so they had to be dark to match it. And it sounded exhausting and sad. Tim would have gone down that path maybe, but they got to him first. It made him sad, thinking about all the lives and places where they didn’t have Tim and Tim didn’t have them. So he was left alone in the dark, trying to crawl to the light lest the darkness swallow him whole as well.

Things fester in the dark. Luffy may be dumb, but even he knows that much. Things can turn moldy and rotten in the dark. It’s better to let it out into the light, better to let those you care about know you love them.

And now his intelligence officer is grinning down at Chopper, holding his hooves in his hands as the youngest crew member wobbily skated with Tim, promising that he wasn’t going to let go. Luffy was sitting on the edge of the empty swimming pool, next to Zoro, when he saw Tim’s eyes flick up.

Someone was coming then. Tim had the best Observation Haki out of all of them, enough for it to be passively on at all times. Shanks thought it was because of Tim’s situational awareness training or something.

Luffy didn’t know much about that, but Tim was a detective. So it made sense, he guessed.

“Hey Chopper,” Tim said cheerfully. “Why don’t you take a break? I think Sanji brought some watermelon.”

“Oh!” Chopper said as Tim helped him off the skateboard. Once the doctor had gone into Heavy Point to clamber out of the food for a treat, the intelligence officer took a running leap and jumped out of the pool.

Luffy watched from under the brim of his hat as Tim quietly walked away.

Zoro watched for a moment, “Me or you?”

The King of the Pirates considered the energies carefully.

“You,” he decided, and not just because he wanted some of the melon too. “Tim would need you.”

Tim needed Luffy when it felt like the darkness would swallow him whole. He needed Zoro when good things happened or when he got something he wanted. Sometimes, Tim got weird about things working out for him. Zoro’s comforting not-comfort seemed to help steady their intelligence officer.

And what could Luffy say? He believed in the best of people. He believed that Tim would get a happy thing that he deserved.

Zoro nodded at that and ruffled Luffy’s hair, knocking his hat forward into his eyes.

“Try and save some snacks for us,” he said.

The captain beamed up as he pushed his hat back on his head.

“No promises!”

Tim walked away from the laughter that never permeated this house when he still lived in it. Everyone did him the courtesy of not forcing him to go through his old home. The only thing that needed to be done was to open the back door in case anyone needed the bathroom. Which was easy enough between the multiple lockpicks that crew members carried (Robin, Nami, Tim, Usopp).

But Tim would rather piss in the garden than go back into the mausoleum that dominated his childhood. He wouldn’t, but that was the sentiment.

Still, part of him knew his parents would be rolling in their graves if they knew what he was doing with his life. The more vindictive part of himself took some sense of comfort in that. It was rebellion, pure and simple, mixed with a bit of spite. But mainly, the little boy who loved his parents and remembered snatches of an early childhood of love just hoped that they were happy for him.

He walked past the gate and closed it quietly behind him so as not to disturb the others. He didn’t want a huge audience for this. Though he guessed the crew knew something was going on, but were being nice enough to pretend not to. Someone was definitely following him to keep an eye on the situation.

And he did mean a singular eye.

Zoro was closer, probably to keep an eye on things. That made Tim feel better. He always felt better when he had someone he trusted at his back. It soothed something in him that was a much younger version of himself. More importantly, the swordsman wouldn’t step in unless something really fucked happened or, even worse, Tim started crying in the bad way.

Tim considered the man before him.

“Hey, Tim,” Dick said.

He sounded nervous and looked nervous. In Tim’s memories, he was always so confident, like nothing could get him down.

Memory was funny like that sometimes. 

Tim felt a pang of sympathy for his brother at that. The thing was, of course, that the way he loved Dick back then was probably unsustainable in the long run. He had worshipped Dick Grayson since he could form memories. The old picture from Haley’s Circus a treasured and cherished memory, a security blanket when his parents thought that their child shouldn’t have a need for such things.

Tim put Dick on a pedestal, even more so when he got to know the man. He knew it wasn’t fair of him. That the way he loved wasn’t normal, that it was a barbed and difficult thing that he sank into any scrap of affection that he got and strangled it until it could no longer survive. How he clung to the mantle of Robin was a painful snapshot of that love. Losing everything, time with the League, and searching for Bruce was like a wildfire to that sort of thinking, which left the thorny branches in ash and ruins.

But his years away had grown the way he loved. The Straw Hats were people who had to learn how to grow that affection, forcing Tim into loving without the thorns, which showed him how. No one ever said anything directly, but they should have said it in their own ways.

(Chopper’s notes in his file had research about healing someone with touch starvation, though there wasn’t much research on mental health in their world. Robin always made him a cup of coffee when she made herself one. Brook played him lullabies to help him sleep. Jinbe showed him the basics of Fishman Karate. Sanji made his favorite food and acted like it was no big deal, mentioning it casually when he brought out drinks for the women.

Usopp taught Tim how to play again, getting him to run around for the enjoyment of a game of tag. Franky made Tim his own workshop space in the Sunny and perches for his birds. Luffy loved Tim like it were as natural as breathing. Nami made a little area within her weather maps and navigation charts so the two of them could do bookkeeping together.

Zoro was waiting behind the gate of his childhood home, waiting just in case Tim needed saving, an allowance of weakness.)

His love was a forest now full of adventure and mystery and ease. And he loved Dick.

“Hey, Dick,” he said quietly. “So this is happening, huh?”

“I’m sorry,” his brother said. “Tim, I should have handled everything with Robin better.”

He sounded like he was about to cry.

Fuck, Tim hated how easily his family allowed themselves to be haunted. He refused to be a ghost in the narrative.

With that in mind, he sat down on the grass and patted the ground in front of him. Dick followed the untold offer in the gesture.

“It’s no one’s fault,” Tim said after a long moment. “Or it’s everyone’s fault. We weren’t exactly raised and mentored by the most emotionally healthy man in the world. I had five near six years to get over it. And I am now. I admit, it was hard.  I went off the rails for a bit there with trying to find Bruce and dealing with what I thought were the deaths of my two best friends. Plus, there was everything Dad. I wish we had handled things better on both ends. Or, at least, tried to understand where the other was coming from. But, again, I don’t think we were taught those sorts of tools to do so. But I refuse to be someone’s reason for self-flagellation.”

Dick stared at him with wide eyes.

Yeah, that was the response that Tim was expecting. God forbid someone in this family had some emotional growth. Maybe it was something in the water near Wayne Manor. He knew they didn’t get anything from the Gotham public line, at least.

No one in Gotham County did.

He sighed and grabbed Dick’s hand.

“I forgive you,” Tim said, looking his older brother in the eye. If there was one thing you learned about being a Straw Hat is that sometimes you had to be blunt. “I missed you when I was gone, even when I was being an idiot about it. I love you because you are my brother, the only one I’ll ever bother to claim with pride. And I’ll still love you even if we both fuck it up again. You hurt me. That wasn’t okay. But I know you’re sorry, and that matters. I got sick of being angry or upset with you a while ago.”

He called Jason and Damian his brothers for the ease of conversation and not to get into their fucked-up relationships. But he didn’t love them like brothers, and he was mad at them for what they did to him. Tim was allowed to feel that way.

Maybe one day things would change. But he felt he was owed an apology first.

But Dick? He loved Dick in, hopefully, a healthier way than when he was a kid. He remembered the brief moment of surfing the train to Enies Lobby and taking power from the fondness that bloomed in his chest as they headed to rescue Robin.

Suddenly, Tim’s back was on the soft grass of Drake Manor’s front lawn. Dick had tackled into a hug and…

And he was crying.

Dick Grayson was crying.

Tim merely buried his fingers in his older brother’s shaggy hair and closed his eyes, feeling the sun warm his face. He felt Zoro’s presence walk away from the gate, content that he was safe with his brother.

It felt like a new beginning.

Chapter Text

Three Years Ago

“I fucking hate Wonderland,” Tim muttered under his breath. “Or Candyland. Fuck this place.”

Jinbe had to swallow the laugh at his new Captain’s intelligence officer. He still had ties that he needed to cut and people he needed to see safe, but Luffy was his Captain. He knew it in the thrum of his heart and the flames of a dream reignited. The burden of leadership was one he had borne, but he was deeply glad to soon be rid of it.

(He had found his Captain.

He remembered his dream.)

“I don’t know what any of those things are.”

The intelligence officer said odd things sometimes, Jinbe noticed. Sometimes, when he spoke of home, his crewmates would exchange significant looks. He wondered if he was a Celestial Dragon who somehow had a conscience and ran away from home. But that didn’t seem right.

“Ugh,” Tim muttered, pushing back a stray curl on his disguise. It was amazing he could be so quiet in those shoes. “I keep forgetting you don’t know. Once we’re on the ship and we can legitimately talk where there are no listening ears, I am going to tell you the wildest true story you’ve ever heard.”

Jinbe pointedly looked around their surroundings and looked at Tim.

Who snorted in something like delighted surprise.

Oh yes. They would be great friends.

They were making their way toward the Prisoner Library in order to free their captive comrades. Tim had escaped and regrouped, disguising himself as quite a prettily convincing young human woman. His bird messengers had delivered a message to Jinbe about the predicament that his Captain and comrades had found themselves in.

From what Jinbe had seen of Tim, he knew that he was a methodical, intelligent man who could outthink some of the best tacticians of this age. This was the first time he had seen him distinctly resembling ruffled.

(On Fish-Man Island, the talk about heroism, Jinbe wondered what sort of life he led in order to think as he does. The way he moved like a fighter and analyzed like a grandmaster, Usopp called him a master detective.

JInbe wasn’t sure, but he was a force to be reckoned with, leaning over Luffy’s shoulder like a shadow, whispering secrets into his Captain’s ears.

A spymaster needed to confer with his king, after all.)

“Are you alright?” he asked.

He cared about this crew already, as evidenced by how fiercely he protected his people and his home. From a letter that had appeared on his desk from Drake Timothy, thanking him for looking after his captain when he could not. And if there was any favor Jinbe needed, then to only flag down a bird and send a letter to him.

“I hate this place,” the younger man said after a moment. “I hate this place, and I hate how people like…I’m so tired of people who are loud and rotten ruling and forcing others to suffer under them. And I’m going to personally break the dominant arms of every member of Sanji’s family and fucking take out his father’s goddamn kneecaps.”

From what he saw of Vinsmoke Judge and his other sons, Jinbe wouldn’t mind seeing that happen. Not that he would say such things aloud, of course.

Tim glared out at the horizon. He then sighed and deflated slightly, taking a precious moment to let out what needed to be let out so he could focus on the battle. Jinbe would not deny him that time to get his brilliant mind focused on what was to come.

“I just wish the world were better and that my loved ones could be safe,” he said, sounding vulnerable in the way only a teenager on the cusp of crossing that final threshold into manhood could be. “And I’m tired of innocent people getting caught in the crossfire just because someone ate a fruit and got a God complex about it.”

Jinbe’s heart ached at that statement. He wasn’t sure how to comfort him. Not that there wasn’t anything to comfort about the situation. It was a terrible one all around.

“I hear that they don’t even taste very good,” he said instead.

Tim stared at him in shock before grinning wildly. He pressed his hand to his mouth in order to stifle the laugh.

“Let us go and save our crew, Tim,” Jinbe said, relishing saying the words out loud. He held out his hand.

His crewmate merely grinned and pushed off the wall.

He took Jinbe’s hand.

“Let’s go save our friends.”

During The Straw Hats’ Separation

“This is a bad idea,” Marco informed his student. He needed to say it, at least once, in order to feel like the responsible adult that he technically should be.

“And you’re right here in case I get hurt,” Tim said cheerfully. “It’s just a theory. And training should be where we test out theories, right?”

The older man narrowed his eyes. He had experience in corralling rowdy brothers (though his heart still panged at the thought of so many of them just gone) who wanted to do stupid things for the sake of being idiots. Sometimes, you just have to let them be dumb.

“I don’t think Armament Haki is supposed to be used in this way. Not that I’m saying that’s what this is, but…”

His protégé threw up his hands in frustration.

“And I’m telling you it makes more sense than Sanji using friction to light his leg on fire. He tapped into some kind of spiritual energy to make it manifest.”

Well…

Tim had Marco up against a wall there, he had to admit.

“Alright,” he said. “Alright. You win.”

Tim brushed back some of his hair. He had to get the kid a haircut soon, if he wanted one. Or he could be in an awkward spot, Marco remembered plenty of siblings complaining about it. Right now, it was in a messy bun.

“Good,” his student said, a slightly manic look to his eye. “Let’s Yu Yu Hakusho this bitch.”

“I don’t understand a third of what comes out of your mouth,” Marco lamented because he really didn’t. “And I don’t know if that’s a you thing or an alternate dimension thing.”

“It’s definitely both,” Tim said. “Also, I’m slightly more unhinged here than back home.”

And wasn’t that a mindfuck of the highest order? He tried not to think about it too much lest he have an existential anxiety spiral. Or, well, made the one that he was currently in worse. They were helping each other in their own weird ways. Marco felt steadier than he had in months with someone to guide, and he thought Tim felt the same.

He watched as Tim breathed in and out. Time passed slowly as perfect stillness seemed to overtake his student.

Then he could see the outline of energy. It was a formless sort of thing, just pulsating around him in time with his heartbeat. Marco felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in anticipation. He shifted to a more ready position in case he needed to intervene quickly.

His protégé’s eyes twitched from underneath their lids, and the energy flared as he gritted his teeth. It was almost like he was attempting to exert his own will over…himself?

Maybe?

Marco was ready to end the experiment for the day.

And then Tim whistled.

It was one of his bird calls because every bird near them went dead silent. Even Marco stilled in the face of such a noise, the more animalistic part of his brain listening.

The energy flared around Tim, taking form.

A bird flared its wings open, and all the grass blew back. Snapping out of his stupor, Marco ran forward to shake him out of it.

But his stupid, brilliant, moronic, amazing student was falling forward for the older man to catch. He had no idea what kind of thing Tim just did. It could be Advanced Armament Haki of some sort. Though Tim’s mastery of the basics of it was shaky at best. So, Marco didn’t know, but damn it was something.

Or hell, Sanji apparently lit his leg on fire, and no one really questioned how outside of friction. Maybe it was spiritual energy taking a new form.

Tim cracked open an eye.

“I think I overdid it,” he said, voice hoarse. “Fucking felt like I got hit by Truck-kun, that’s for goddamn sure.”

He wasn’t going to even ask who the fuck Truck-kun was.

“You think,” Marco emphasized. “You did. You definitely did overdo it. And you’re going to hate yourself in the morning.”

Tim groaned in agreement.

“But that was pretty impressive-yoi,” he said. “Let’s make sure it doesn’t outright kill you, and then we can work on it.”

Marco got a thumbs-up in response as the kid finally succumbed to unconsciousness.

Well, it was definitely an interesting time, mentoring the Kingmaker. Marco had to give the kid that.

But he wouldn’t really have it any other way.

One Year Ago

“Are you making world domination plans?” Chopper asked as he looked over Tim’s shoulder. The Shadow of the Pirate King was working on deck today while the doctor prepared medicine. It was a nice sunny day in the West Blue, where they had been exploring for Nami’s map of the world. He had paperwork in code spread out around him, and a couple of his bird friends were preening his hair.

All of the birds that Tim managed to befriend were impressive and had a lot of interesting stories to tell when Chopper got them talking. But, right now, his work looked really cool. He could see his nakama turn his mouth up in a small smile.

“Luffy didn’t want the Throne of the World, remember?” he said. “We chopped it up for kindling after defeating Imu.”

Chopper grinned at the reminder of the satisfying end to that very long, grueling, terrifying, and rewarding fight. It had been really fun to burn it, too. Although technically, he wasn’t supposed to say that out loud.

But it was really fun to light it up.

“So, what is this stuff then?”

Because Chopper knew bits and pieces of some of Tim’s easier-to-crack ciphers. Or, well, easier to crack if you knew where to start from. And the only people who did know where to start were either a) on this ship, b) in the Polar Tang, c) Sabo, or d) Marco.

A lot of Chopper’s patient files were written in that sort of cipher now so no one can hurt his herd.

Tim’s serious business stuff was written in a code that gave the doctor a headache from looking at it too long. But he wasn’t getting a headache, so clearly it wasn’t something that serious.

“Birthday present for Sanji,” he said. “And my contacts in the Germa Kingdom said that the Vinsmokes are still being assholes. Well…except Reiju, apparently she’s been making moves behind the scenes to get support.”

Ugh.

Sanji’s mean family were the worst sort of people. In agreement after Whole Cake Island, the crew didn’t bring them up around him. And, with the new government (formerly the Revolutionary Army) now trying to rebuild the government into something that didn’t make Chopper’s stomach twist itself into knots with every horrifying detail, they just assumed the Vinsmokes were dealt with.

Probably naïve. There were still despots to defeat and islands to free. Maybe even more because the World Government wasn’t there to nominally keep them in check while Luffy’s Dad tried to get everything into something resembling cohesion than a disparate, jumbled mess.

People were afraid of change. Sometimes, they grabbed onto systems that hurt them tighter in order to avoid it. Chopper didn’t understand it. If something was giving you pain, then you should do everything to get away from it, right?

Even after all this time, humans were still so confusing to Chopper.

Tim allowed him to crawl on his lap and look at the drawings on the documents.

“You really don’t like them, huh?” Chopper asked.

On principle, the Straw Hat Pirates hated the Vinsmokes, except maybe Sanji’s sister. For those who were at Whole Cake Island, it was a little more personal. Tim, however, seemed to harbor a special hatred for Judge and his sons.

He could feel Tim hug him, and Chopper allowed it. Mainly because it still made him happy to see how well his herd member had recovered from his touch starvation. And maybe because it was a hard thing that Tim had to talk about. Sometimes, he didn’t like people looking at him when he talked about hard things.

Chopper leaned against him casually and felt Tim rest his chin on top of his hat.

“I’m the weakest,” he said after a long moment. “Or, at least, that’s what everyone said. I was the weakest out of my brothers. The physical stuff was harder for me, and the mental stuff was easier. Bruce had to send me to be trained. But it just didn’t come naturally like it did with the others.”

“So, you’re projecting.”

Tim laughed, “A little. And I think it would give Sanji some comfort to know that the kingdom wouldn’t be in his father’s hands anymore. I couldn’t take out Judge’s kneecaps like I wanted or break his brothers’ dominant hands. We were too busy escaping to do that. I don’t think Sanji would let me. He’s too nice for that.”

Chopper laughed at that, but Tim wasn’t wrong.

“You’re not weak,” he said because their spymaster wasn’t. Tim wasn’t the strongest on the ship, but had no interest in being it. But he was really strong and tough and powerful and cool.

“You’re the best.”

“The best, huh?” Tim said, sounding amused. “I think we all share that title.”

Chopper preened a bit at that, wriggling a little in delight, “Shut up. Don’t you distract me with compliments, idiot.”

Tim laughed at that, and they fell into a comfortable silence for a while.

But a thought occurred to Chopper.

“Tim?”

“Mhm?”

“Why did you want to break only their dominant hands?”

“If I’m going to break someone’s arm to teach a lesson, then I’m going to do it with the hand that they use most often. Partly to annoy them and partly to make sure that it sticks. Right hand, even in this world, is still the most statistically likely.”

Oh.

Huh.

Well, he did ask.

Tim was really scary sometimes.

Chopper was glad that he was on their side.

Five Years Ago

News spread through Water 7 like wildfire as more and more details about Iceberg’s attack became public knowledge. Tim had a bad feeling about it and was glad he put on a disguise when the Straw Hats were blamed. The Mayor said that Robin had been there, and that was that.

Tim smelled a fucking rat.

He had gotten a rousing couple of hours of sleep the night before, but had woken up and left before the others to see what he could learn. He was missing something. Franky, he felt, was a big and shiny distraction from what was really going on.

Don’t get him wrong. He was an asshole who hurt his friend (and exacerbated some of Usopp’s issues about being the “weakest” crew member), which indirectly led to the fight and fracturing of Usopp and the Straw Hats. And that was an emotional minefield that Tim would deal with later. But the whole attack on Iceberg felt too planned, too coordinated. Even if Robin was recruited last minute, why did she show her face?

No.

Someone was moving the shadows, providing distractions while the magician worked behind the scenes. And if he was going to suss it out, then he was going to suss it the fuck out. This whole situation made Tim think of when the Rogues would coordinate or bounce off each other’s attacks.

He needed to get inside to question Iceburg.

That was off the table, though. The people talked about the Galley La company as if they were superhuman. They would definitely be on alert for any member of the Straw Hats. Reporters were being kept at the door. He could, theoretically, steal someone’s press credentials and pretend to be an enterprising young reporter trying to get a big scoop.

He eyed some of the people in masks as they walked past him.

Pity CCTV didn’t exist in this world. Pity most of the technology that he was used to didn’t exist. Give him a decent security set-up that he could hack, and Tim could have gotten the information needed to clear themselves before lunch.

Iceburg knew something. He had to. There had to be some information that he could know as mayor or even in his past. He saw something or did something, but he lived. So they needed him alive.

Tim knew that if Robin handled the gun, then he would be dead. Not that she would. Robin could break his neck with a twitch of her finger. No, that wasn’t it. She wouldn’t break her MO. She didn’t use weapons like that.

So, she was in the room, but someone else shot Iceburg.

Iceburg, who had to know something.

And they wanted the quickly rising star pirates to take the blame for it. Luffy was making a name for himself as someone to watch.

Tim paused in his walk and looked up.

Ah.

The only players that were unaccounted for were the government and the Marines, basically the same thing. This was a place that welcomed all kinds, a neutral ground of the most sacred order. But there would be government plants here, wouldn’t there?

Government plants who would have to have been trained to the highest degree.

Who could keep an eye on the pirates who came to get their ships built and—

Galley La.

Tim rolled his shoulders back and let out a breath.

Alright then.

He had a theory.

Now, time to see if he could find some evidence for it.

Two Years Ago

“Foreplay with you is very interesting, querido,” Tim said from where he lay on the table. He seemed remarkably blasé for Law, having his hands wrist deep in the place where his spleen used to be. Granted, Law could control such things within his Room, and he had given his…alternate dimension retired superhero a good painkiller while he checked him over.

“Is this foreplay?” he asked, feeling a bit silly for it.

Admittedly, after what happened to Tim at Laugh Tale, it reassured him to feel his organs moving and living and being there under his hands. His…person was very dear to him, and while Chopper was a doctor above reproach, it reassured Law to do his own examinations on the Straw Hats’ intelligence officer himself.

And it was nice in a way that made his skin feel tight and his stomach flip in a good way, that Tim trusted him so much. He allowed him to be wrist deep in his guts, to hold his hand in hand, to catalogue every scar and show the vulnerable pale skin of his throat. It was precious to him to be so trusted, to be allowed that bit of control.

Law never thought himself capable of romantic love or sexual attraction until he was confounded by Drake Timothy, who seemed to cheerfully upend all expectations that he had for himself. It was humbling to allow himself to trust him in leading him down his first tentative steps in exploring sex and romance.

Tim had the experience, but it wasn’t him holding the upper hand. It was exciting in a way he hadn’t felt before.

“It could be for us,” the younger man said, answering his question about foreplay and snapping him out of his thoughts. “We both get off on trust, I think. It’s nice to have people to give our trust to, but it’s nicer to be trusted in turn. Isn’t that right, querido?”

Law flushed at the intensity of that icy blue-eyed stare on him.

“It is,” he agreed.

Tim tilted his head at him before oh so carefully propping himself up on his elbows. His bare foot brushed against Law’s side. His toenails were painted and slightly chipped, but the color was a cheerful, sunny yellow. As always, when he was touched by the other pirate, the Heart captain’s mind went slightly blank in a strangely peaceful way.

“Put me back together and come over here.”

A shiver went down his spine at the command in Tim’s tone. Without thinking, he pulled his hands out of the other man's and twisted his fingers just so with a slightly choked “Shambles” out of his mouth. It was always so lovely when it was like this. Everything felt hyper sensitive, but real in a way that things felt real was Doflamingo was gone. Tim, however, commanded in a way that made everything go up to eleven.

And he wanted to obey.

He wanted to hear his voice go husky and soft as he bit up the line of his jaw with “you are such a good boy, querido” in his ear. And it made him go all pliant and soft and feel safe in a way that left him panting and breathless.

But then…

Tim sat up on the edge of the bed, skin scarred with battles from his home and this world. He was there for some of them: a scar from Onigashima, a slight burn on his hip from Dressrosa, the one on his chest from Laugh Tale that...

“Stop thinking,” a command cut through that thought. Tim crooked his finger. “Come here.”

Law went over to him.

The shorter man put his hand on his heart. He could feel the steady and strong beat underneath the skin, just as steady as it was when he held it. And Tim stared up at Law with utter trust in his eyes that he would never, ever harm his heart.

And he wouldn’t.

By the Seas, the Stars, and on the memory of those he loved, he would never hurt this man like that. Just like he would never hurt his crew or Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi.

“I’m alive,” Tim said softly, moving his tattooed hand to his cheek. “You’re alive. We’re both safe. And I will let you into my guts a thousand times more if it makes you feel better. But right now, I want you to kiss me because it was a little hot watching you handle my organs. And I don’t know what that says about me as a person.”

Law didn’t know either, but he obeyed him and cupped his cheek.

He kissed him, still a bit hesitant but with quickly growing confidence.

“Good boy, querido,” was growled when they broke apart for air.

And then Law’s mind went pleasantly and pleasurably blank for a while.

Chapter Text

Nami was glad that Tim and his eldest brother finally had their talk. And, wow, he was not joking about the level of emotional constipation in this family. She liked to think that she was one of the more emotionally intelligent members of the crew. So, being in that house was making her skin crawl in just repressed emotions that seem to dog the wealthy and people who want to stubbornly cling to their tragedies.

Or maybe she was just projecting her own issues with Tim’s family onto them.

All the Blues and the Grand Line too, only know how Luffy was handling it. Her captain knew how to read people better than anyone she knew. But it probably wasn’t nice for him to be around that all the time.

It certainly explained a lot about Tim when he came to them.

But while the aesthetic of the Manor would make Mihawk seethe in jealousy and dripping in such obvious wealth that made her fingers itch to take (she won’t, she promised), it was also just sort of a bummer? Like Alfred was great and Sanji’s new best friend, considering the times their cook had gone off to see what kind of otherworldly recipes he could learn. Cass was a delight and seemed more than happy to hang out with them when she wasn’t on the clock or at her dance classes or living her life.

Even Dick had hung out with them last night with a shy grin as Tim led him into their little sanctuary at the Manor, taking the night off from patrol, and joining their new tradition of movie nights. Movies were pretty great in Nami’s opinion; she had thoroughly enjoyed Legally Blonde and Clueless. And then there were what Tim called “audio dramas” which people recorded.

Why did no one back home think about recorded serials or radio shows or something?

(Though, probably, Scooby Doo, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, and Looney Tunes were giving Luffy some new ideas for whenever he went into Gear 5 again. Nami would pity the poor bastards who went up against her captain, but they were normally assholes of the highest order. You might as well enjoy seeing their asses get kicked.

Schadenfreude, Tim called it once.)

Definitely an idea to bring back home. She and Tim were already collaborating on a couple of alternate revenue streams now that a whole new world had literally opened up to them. Sure, they had the revenue from their territories that they managed, but it was markedly less than what Kaido and Big Mom were fleecing from those poor people.

Nami was greedy, but she also knew what it was like to be hungry and see people scared of collections. The amount was a token, if that, which mainly went into their operations budget and food.

So, Tim and his experience running a business came in handy, and they handled that part of Luffy’s job as the Pirate King, plus their side weed business. Now they were planning something that Tim was calling Blockbuster but make it pirates. She had no idea what a Blockbuster was, but it would work. And the prices were more than reasonable.

(At the very least, they didn’t have to worry about money here. Tim had them more than covered when they inevitably had to enact their escape plan that she, Robin, and he had cooked up together after they found those surveillance devices in their room that Batman had put there.

It made her glad that they had all decided to sleep together. She felt safer together.)

Even with the potential moneymaking avenue and getting to see where Tim had grown up, Nami didn’t know how to deal with the oppressive cloud of sadness over the house. She wasn’t even sure if she could call the emotion sadness. It made her sad, but maybe it wasn’t the right word for it.

Bruce Wayne.

The man who made Tim into the boy that Luffy had saved, falling from the sky and half dead from going up against an ancient opponent, working himself to the bone in order to protect those people that Bruce had loved. A man who continually tested him like Tim was a weapon to be sharpened, who needed a child to fix him.

Who had all the money in the world, who had all these amazing opportunities available to him to get help for himself so he could build his own family, and…

Yeah.

Nami didn’t like him.

Sure, she had distaste for the man, given the context clues and how Tim had fallen into their lives.

But now that she had met him properly?

She really didn’t like him.

And if she didn’t pinky promise Tim that she wouldn’t steal from him, then she would one hundred percent be stealing from him.

But she promised, and the one thing that couldn’t be bought back was your word.

She didn’t like the way he treated Luffy, looking at him like he was something to be scared of. She didn’t like the way he looked at them all, like they were criminals in the bad way. He was part of the group that summoned them, but it was like the moment that man learned they were pirates, they started to be less than in his eyes. She didn’t like the way he looked at Tim, like he was something he wanted control of again.

Nami was reminded uncomfortably of Akainu from what she had learned of the man who killed Ace.

Absolute Justice.

Tim said that Bruce wasn’t always like that, that he had a lot of empathy. He told her about Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze… He said that Bruce had higher standards for his children, that he had a hard time showing his love for them. But even he sounded like he didn’t believe it anymore. It just sounded like excuses to Nami. Maybe she had been spoiled for the brief time she had Belle-mere, but you push aside whatever fucking issues you had and focus on your kids.

She saw the memorials in that cave room place for Jason Todd and Tim Drake.

Good Soldiers

She knew that the story was that Tim was in a coma or something, but…those memorials just sat in her stomach like a thousand pounds.

Was that all this man saw these children as?

She couldn’t even bring herself to look at Tim when she noticed what it said. She wondered if anyone had been braver than her to do so.

She was too afraid to ask.

(She hated the way Tim had been tense. It reminded her a little of Sanji at Whole Cake Island, and it made her want to cry for all the precious people she loved and how the world had hurt them. Like how they wanted to cry at how the world hurt her.

They had done more than their fair share for their world. They had earned their peaceful existence in blood, sweat, and tears. They were the ship of the Pirate King, the most feared and beloved crew of the seas.

Was it so wrong to just want to be? She wanted to sail around the world. She wanted to kiss Vivi in the sunsets of Albasta and trace the freckles on her back. She wanted to be with her crew for forever.

They earned their happy life. Who the fuck was Bruce Wayne to think otherwise?)

“You okay?” Tim asked. They were back in the city today because Robin asked about the museums, and Dick had told Luffy about another eating challenge. They were going to meet up with Barbara at the restaurant so she and their intelligence could talk tech while they ate. Nami looked over Tim, who had a cap on backwards and a loose set to his shoulders. It was like the further they were away from the Manor, the happier he became.

“Yeah,” she said, only a little bit of a lie. “Just lost in thought.”

He looped his arm through hers. Nami took comfort in the weight.

“Well, come on,” he said. “Robin’s done, and Luffy is ready to see how fast he can make this restaurant with the wing challenge cry.”

The navigator laughed and kissed his cheek.

“I love you,” she said seriously. “You know that, right?”

It wasn’t a romantic declaration. Everyone on the crew said it to each other, whether through actions, words, or both. But given the situation, Nami felt like he needed to hear it.

“I love you too,” Tim said, kissing her temple. It was sweetly careless in its affection, but so very precious. His smile was as easy as it should be. “Who else would cry with me over our accounting ledgers while we pretend to have business degrees. Now let’s go meet Babs and let our Captain get us a free lunch.”

Yeah, Bruce Wayne could have his empathy for people he wasn’t caring for and his weird double standards, but he was missing out on this.

For all his wealth, Nami could only feel pity for the man.

Tim, for the record, saw this coming a mile away. Like, given his general luck, he should have known that after a nice day of looking at things in museums, seeing Luffy eat like his body weight in chicken wings, and having a rousing conversation with Babs, Franky, and Usopp about computers, satellites, and coding, he knew that something shitty was going to happen.

It’s just his luck.

He one million percent saw this coming from a mile away.

He saw most things coming from a mile away. It wasn’t his weird ass Observation Haki or anything. Many people forgot, but Tim was and will always be a detective first and foremost. A lot of being a detective was connecting dots, noting patterns, and knowing people; he knew this was going to happen. He’s pretty sure it was so obvious that almost everyone saw it coming.

“It” being Damian’s inevitable challenge to Zoro.

Tim was pleased they made it this long. He was pretty sure the Damian he remembered would have challenged Zoro on night one. He was also certain that Dick had a hand in it. They could have gotten another day out of it if the older man had been there.

However, Dick had to go work on a case and couldn’t be at dinner tonight. Cass was also working on something with Babs and Stephanie (though she did promise to give the blonde his new number so they could also properly talk). Alfred had dragged Bruce out of his study to eat with everyone, and since the technical patriarch of the Wayne family wasn’t eating in his study, then Damian had to join as well.

Alfred, Tim believed, made a rare miscalculation on his part.

Listen, five years can dull memories, but Damian Wayne was still the same haughty brat that had cut Tim’s line and tried to kill him. And he did understand Dick’s point of view and even understood the abuse and conditioning that made the kid into himself, but that didn’t mean that Tim had to like him or tolerate his disrespect. He could feel empathy for Damian’s shit childhood, but Tim was allowed not to like people who hurt him, regardless of age and trauma.

Out of mutual respect for Dick or whatever, the two of them had been avoiding each other.

However, Dick wasn’t here.

Damian’s pride was a wild and violent sort of thing. Tim wasn’t sure if he had a superiority complex or an inferiority complex or some weird mix of both. He wasn’t a psychologist.

God. Never in Gotham.

And their world didn’t have therapy or a deep understanding of mental health, so…

Yeah.

When they were eating dinner, Damian looked at Zoro and said, “You are a swordsman.”

Tim swallowed the groan.

Everyone else, except Luffy, stopped eating to watch the conversation.

Zoro sipped his sake and ignored Damian.

This bristled the kid’s pride.

“Well? Aren’t you going to answer my question, pirate?”

Tim really should see if recreational or medical weed was legal in New Jersey. His kingdom for a fucking edible right now because his anxiety had skyrocketed and was staying somewhere in the stratosphere above the Manor anytime the majority of his family were together in the same room.

And this conversation was not helping.

He didn’t even use his Haki’s Future Sight or whatever to tell them this was going to end in a fight.

“You made a statement. And you didn’t ask a question,” Zoro said, putting down the sake cup. “But I am a swordsman, the greatest swordsman of my world. My name is known to the Heavens themselves.”

Zoro was fucking goading him.

Everyone, except Luffy, looked over at Damian to see his response. He raised his chin up: the proud and demanding prince that he was raised into.

“Then I demand that you prove yourself and fight me. As one swordsman to another.”

Everyone, except Luffy, looked back at Zoro, whose one eye lazily looked Damian up and down.

“Nah,” he said, pouring himself a new cup of sake. Someone, probably Usopp, let out a startled, choked laugh at that.

Zoro was toying with Damian. It was like a cat eyeing up a kitten who didn’t realize they were a kitten.

Tim closed his eyes and rested his head on the table, wondering if he could slide down and army crawl out of the room. Sanji didn’t even do him the courtesy of letting him lie there, yanking him up.

“If I have to sit through this clusterfuck,” the chef whispered in Tim’s ear. “Then so do you.”

Rude, Tim destabilized an entire nation for his ungrateful ass.

“I don’t want to be here,” he informed Sanji quietly. “We can just go.”

“Well, it’s bold of you to assume your presence was wanted to begin with, Drake,” Damian snapped at him.

Now, Luffy stopped eating.

“Damian,” Bruce finally said, a warning in his tone.

“No, Father,” the youngest Wayne said with that haughty tilt to his jaw. “We are harboring criminals in our home, with whom Drake had allied himself. They should be arrested.”

Oh hell no.

Listen, fine, the Demon Brat could insult him and tell him he wasn’t wanted. Fine. Whatever. Tim was used to that.

But he didn’t get to talk shit about his crew.

“We haven’t done anything here,” Tim said, hands in his fists at his side. He felt the worst sort of seventeen again. Neutral tone, he told himself, neutral fucking tone. “And, again, we didn’t want to be here. Luffy was summoned, and we’re stuck here for a month.”

“And you didn’t know an avatar of a god could be summoned, Drake,” Damian sniffed. “How disappointing as usual. But we should suspect subpar standards from a thief such as yourself. Not that surprising that you became a pirate.”

Tim looked at Bruce, waiting for the man to parent his child.

But he merely stared at them as if trying to puzzle out a case.

Apparently, that made up the swordsman’s mind.

“Alright,” Zoro said suddenly. He put down his sake cup. “I’ll fight you.”

Yep, Tim should have seen that coming. Fuck.

He didn’t really believe in reincarnation, but, if it did exist, then he wondered who he had pissed off in a past life.

Bruce could admit that there was a point where a line was crossed here, but he didn’t know how to stop it. He never knew how to stop things from going too far with his kids when they fought each other.

As a rule, with his children, he preferred to let them sort out their issues on their own. They had been trained in de-escalation tactics and conflict resolution. Sometimes, sometimes, they even get to use those skills out in public when on patrol. But it all seemed to fly out the window at the Manor, so Bruce just left them to it.

Frankly, so long as nothing interfered while they were in the mask, then he was willing to let their personal dynamics outside of the Mission be just that. They needed trust in the field or something resembling it. But he wasn’t going to force them to love each other or even like each other.

Damian and Tim had a rocky relationship even before Bruce’s jaunt to the timestream. And, according to Dick, it didn’t get better. He hoped that with Tim missing, presumed dead for six months (and actually five years in another world) that his youngest would have softened his feelings toward his older brother.

But he was clearly mistaken, and it was a fear of disappointing Dick that kept Damian from making any sort of remarks. Maybe Bruce should ask Dick to stay for dinner from now on.

At least until the pirates were gone anyway.

Now, Damian was fighting one of them. And Bruce should stop it; he knew he should.

But…

The only data that Bruce had on the Straw Hat Pirates was what he witnessed and recorded at the battle in the desert. Information on the world that they had come from was scarcer, the book that contained Nika being incredibly old. It felt like his own failure of investigation for information. Even the fight footage wasn’t telling Bruce much anymore, which felt overly analyzed by his own mind. And he hasn’t learned anything else about this group and what they could do.

The bugs were giving him nothing.

Tim was blocking him; he had to have been. He was protecting his crew, drawing the line in the sand of where his loyalties were now.

How else would the pirates even know how to check for them?

They had removed his bugs and seemed to do sweeps at random intervals. Bruce couldn’t even hack into their phone’s microphones to listen in because Tim had those locked tight. Clearly, five years in a world where Bruce presumed computers weren’t really a thing hadn’t lessened those skills. Though that could be tied to an excellent memory over anything else.

Seeing Damian fight Roronoa, the Greatest Swordsman of his own Earth, would give him something new.

He needed to figure out how to protect against them.

They were down in the Batcave for the fight proper. Damian had his katana in hand and, at Bruce’s insistence, the Robin costume.

“Not like your first fight with Mihawk,” he overheard Tim whisper. “Please.”

Another name that made no sense to him, but it clearly had some significance.

Roronoa looked at Bruce’s son.

And seemed to soften oh-so-slightly.

“It won’t end like my first fight with Mihawk,” the green-haired man said. “But the brat needs to be taught some manners.”

“And you’re clearly a paragon of them.”

Roronoa grinned, sharp as a blade. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Tim’s. It was a casually intimate gesture.

Bruce couldn’t find a weak link in the chain of this crew’s relationships, except they were all incredibly co-dependent and seemed to worship Luffy in a way that was concerning. In a way that followers flocked to the Rogues.

His son returned the gesture.

“There’s your fire, Tim,” the swordsman said. “I missed it.”

Bruce couldn’t see the former Robin’s face, but something in him that he couldn’t name clenched at that. The fondness in Roronoa’s tone was evident, along with a jab that told the older that he knew he was listening in.

“Zoro,” his son said softly as the other man pulled back.

“Lessons need to be taught,” the swordsman said. “I needed this lesson when I was a shithead teenager from the East Blue.”

“You’re still a shithead from the East Blue,” Tim replied, but he nodded. “If I ask you to stop.”

“I’ll stop unless Luffy says otherwise,” Roronoa promised. “Kid did insult a member of the King’s crew. We can’t let the offense stand.”

Bruce considered Luffy, who was sitting between the mysterious Nico and the large fish person Jinbe. They were listening indulgently as he chattered away about something, kicking his feet back and forth like a child instead of a man. But he was keeping an eye on the area. Tim joined them a second later, collapsing between Jinbe and the skeleton, Brook.

Both men made room without saying a word, and the little reindeer person climbed on Tim’s lap.

“Let us begin,” Damian said as Roronoa walked over.

Except he wasn’t holding any of his three swords.

A wooden training sword was in his hand. Those that Damian deemed useless in his training despite Bruce and Dick’s insistence.

“Oh yeah,” he heard their cook mutter. “This is exactly like the fucking Baratie over again.”

“Oh boy,” Usopp replied. The other woman, Nami, was leaning against the cyborg, mouth in a firm line.

He heard a click of a lighter.

“No smoking in the Batcave,” he growled.

Sanji merely lit his cigarette and ignored Bruce.

“A wooden sword,” Damian scoffed.

“This is the weapon I have picked,” Roronoa said, tapping it on his shoulder. He looked bored. “Be grateful I decided to use this against you rather than nothing at all, which was my first idea.”

He was goading him. Clearly, the other man had been using his silence to pay attention and read them. Or, Tim had slipped information.

Either way, the swordsman had read them well.

Damian had issues with insults to his pride, and now was no exception as he rushed forward to attack.

Roronoa caught his sword perfectly with the wooden one, even though it should have sliced clean through.

It set the pattern for the fight.

One where Damian was giving it is and Roronoa seemed…almost bored?

It was a dance, Bruce realized. One with a new dancer paired with an older one. Sure, talent could be seen in Damian’s form and his skill, honed by his training with the League of Assassins and within the confines of the Batcave.

Roronoa was in a class all of his own. No movement was wasted. Every block, flourish, parry of his wooden sword seemed like an extension of his body. It was something instinctual rather than planned.

It was perfect.

Every moment was perfect.

And he wasn’t even breaking a sweat.

Roronoa never let Damian so much as nick him. Even when the wooden sword should have shattered, it was perfectly whole in his hands. Bruce could see that Damian was getting frustrated.

(“Do you think he’ll understand Zoro-bro’s lesson?” Franky asked Nami.

“Depends if the kid wants to listen to it,” she said, looking at Bruce. “We’re pirates. Not his parents.”)

And when the swordsman struck his final and decisive blow, it was quick and decisive. The wooden sword was so fast that Bruce didn’t even see it. But Damian’s legs were knocked out from under him, his katana was sent flying into the ground further than he could get it, and Roronoa had the wooden sword pressed into his son’s chest.

Damian gritted his teeth as it pressed down, and Bruce itched to protect his son.

But he didn’t know if he could counter Roronoa.

“You wouldn’t last a week in our world,” the man declared. “You are just a child, scared and unsure of your place in your family. Grow up.”

“I am not a child,” Damian said, bristling.

Roronoa scoffed, but removed the sword.

“Being a child isn’t a bad thing,” the green-haired man said casually. “It’s the time when you can learn, and people tend to be the most lenient with you on it. Of course, that is if you’re not raised by assassins, I guess.”

He looked over at his fellow pirates. Nico merely smiled. Tim rolled his eyes.

Bruce felt like there was significance in that Look that he could never understand, a context he was missing.

He hated the lack of information.

“You’re a shithead, kid,” Roronoa said, resting the wooden sword casually on his back as he walked away. “And you tried to kill someone who is ours twice so I can’t say I particularly like you very much. No one would ever allow you on any crew in any faction of any of the Blues because you’re cocky and arrogant. You’re weak, Damian Wayne, in every single way that truly matters. And that gets people killed.”

He grabbed Damian’s sword.

His youngest son scrambled up in outrage.

“My katana!”

The green-haired swordsman casually looked over Damian through his barely lidded single eye.

“Once you figure out what I mean and take that first step forward, then you can have it back. I refuse to let a swordsman like you hold a blade otherwise.”

There was a challenge in his eye as he stared directly at Bruce.

As if this was his fault somehow.

Chapter Text

Five Years Ago

“You should eat something,” Sanji told their mysterious semi-new crewmate. Not much was known about Tim; only Luffy apparently had gotten an explanation for why he fell out of the sky dressed in a weird costume. But if it satisfied their captain, then it would have to satisfy the cook. He had been keeping an eye on Tim, making sure that he didn’t show similar…abilities of his family. There wasn’t a whiff of Vinsmoke arrogance or assholery or…

Well, anyway.

What Sanji did know, however, was that he was much too thin for his liking, with a slight hollowness to his cheeks and too dark bags under his eyes.

Who the fuck hurt you, kid? He wanted to ask. Because there was a brokenness to Tim.

But he remembered from before he met Zeff. No one in the cooking crew of the small liner asked Sanji who had hurt him. They just saw the slight hollow of his cheeks and fed him.

He didn’t think Tim needed that at this moment in time: questions that he didn’t want to answer being thrown at him. Besides, here, on this ship that felt like home so very quickly with people who have become precious as gold with equal speed, the past was another land. It didn’t matter.

Whoever he was before he fell from the sky didn’t matter.

Right now, Tim just needed to be fed. Sanji could do that.

He looked up from where he was doodling something in a notebook that he had stolen from Whiskey Peak. Apparently, while Mosshead was fighting everyone on the island. Their newest crew member had gotten some information from Igaram’s home, confirmed the graves on the cactus mountains, and did some light stealing of clothing and other necessities for himself.

(What Sanji really remembered is how Tim just watched Miss All Sunday thoughtfully and then looked at the wreckage of Igaram’s ship. His eyebrow ticked up, and when the other woman is gone. He had gone over and whispered something to darling Vivi.

“A-Are you sure?” she whispered back shakily.

“It’s conjecture,” he said. “But I think the odds are more in our favor than not.”

“But why would she do that?”

“Some people,” he said thoughtfully, “play their own game, Princess. Best to keep my supposition to ourselves right now. Better for Mister 0 to think things have worked out in his favor.”

Everyone was very confused, but the heartstricken expression seemed to have lifted from darling Vivi’s features, so Sanji was willing to let it slide.)

For some reason, Tim spent most of his time in the kitchen with Sanji. He usually posted himself up at the table, either working on a project or sketching something out in a notebook. He never spoke much, which was fine with the chef. Though maybe it was because the others were being loud, obnoxious idiots on deck. Maybe he just liked listening to him cook and not forcing him to talk. He seemed like a quiet kid.

Quiet in a way that made Sanji’s stomach twist with painful memories.

He put down the drink and the onigiri he had made for the ladies in front of Tim.

Who narrowed his eyes, “Um?”

“I made too much when making Nami-swan and darling Vivi’s portions,” Sanji said dismissively. “You might as well enjoy it before you have to fend off Luffy and the others.”

Tim stared at the food and then at Sanji. The bags underneath the teen’s eyes were enough to make the cook tired.

All the Blues, that kid needed more sleep. Maybe a nice heavy meal tonight to make sure he actually does sleep instead of pretending to, then waiting ten minutes past when Sanji woke up, and then joining him in the kitchen for the breakfast prep.

“Thank you,” Tim said quietly.

He took a bite of the onigiri, so the blonde took it as a win.

“Yeah, sure,” Sanji paused and looked over at him. “Any reason why you’re staying in here with me?”

“It’s quieter,” he said. “And it’s a lot.”

Usopp screamed on deck while Luffy laughed.

Yeah, Sanji could see that.

Tim added then with a dark chuckle, “And I don’t really know how to make friends when I’m not about to die.”

Well, that was dark. Sanji supposed he was in the same boat as well, given his circumstances and how he ended up on the Going Merry. Still, he could recognize it as being fucked up.

“I think you already had a friend in Luffy,” he said. “So I don’t think it’s that hard for you to make them in non-death circumstances.”

“He doesn’t even know me.”

“That’s our captain,” Sanji snorted, arranging the food just so for the ladies. “He decides that he likes you and that’s that. You’re his friend.”

He remembered telling Luffy about his impossible dream and how he smiled so brightly, so excited. Like he believed in the All Blue because Sanji believed in the All Blue, of course, it was real. It was Sanji’s dream. The sort of automatic acceptance took his breath away.

Tim paused in his chewing.

“He asked me if I had a dream,” he said. “I didn’t know how to answer him.”

Oh, you poor bastard, Sanji thought, who hurt you?

Even locked away in an iron mask and sent to a dungeon, he still dreamed. The fact that Tim couldn’t remember his own dream was just…heartbreaking.

“You don’t need to know right now,” he said simply. “But sometimes, people bury their dreams deep in their hearts, because they’re scared to say it out loud.”

Wasn’t that what happened with him as a kid? Sure, there was the All Blue, and that was such an important dream. He wanted to see it for his mother and for Zeff and for that little boy in the iron mask who deserved better from the fucking world.

But…didn’t he also want to be loved, too? Wasn’t it also his dream to find somewhere to belong? To find someone to accept him? To find a place with people who loved him and cared for him?  

He looked down at Tim’s open notebook as he went to grab a tray for Nami-swan and darling Vivi’s portions.

On one side of the page were equations that Sanji had no way to even begin to make heads or tails of, but the other side was the measurements of his counter.

Tim noticed his staring and shrugged, “I noticed that you needed a bit more room. I think I can make a shelf that you can expand on a hinge and…”

Oh.

Okay.

Yeah, no, the cook decided right then and there that he liked this kid. Tim could stay as long as he wanted, whether as a guest or a crew member or whatever. They were friends now.

See?

It was easy when you did things Luffy’s way.

“Thanks,” Sanji said. “I would appreciate it. But any wood shavings end up in the food…”

“And I get a kick to the head?”

He snorted at the dry tone, “Just be prepared for the incoming storm of ingrates.”

Tim looked at the variety of onigiri ready for the male members of the crew, along with a pitcher of the drink that he had made for the ladies on deck.

“Uh-huh.”

Sanji flipped him off as he left to serve the ship’s lovely navigator.

Honestly, this kid may have been a new member to the crew, but he wasn't a bad one to have around.

During The Straw Hat’s Separation

(One Month Before The Rocky Port Incident)

There was someone in Koby’s room.

“Don’t turn on the lights,” the figure said, keeping his hands on the table. “I’m only here to talk, Koby.”

He knew that this person shouldn’t be on this ship, even with it in dock for the moment. He should call for Helmeppo or the rest of his crew. But he didn’t. Assess the situation before you acted out of turn. Allowing his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness and the moonlight, he finally could see this person’s face clearly.

Drake Timothy, the Kingmaker, and part of Luffy’s crew sat in his chair. He was remarkably unruffled despite his dangerous situation, but he also barely blinked at Vice Admiral Garp or the revelation that he was Luffy’s grandpa when they met up after Enies Lobby. He was someone who didn’t get scared in the face of danger, just like his captain.

Though unlike Luffy, whose danger and power were apparent, Drake seemed to deliberately make sure that no one knew what he could do. Garp said that made him dangerous in ways that people hated accounting for. Koby had no doubt of that, being someone who liked to think he was smart in his own way.

But watching Drake as he eyed him, Helmeppo, and Garp? It felt like he was a bug under a microscope.

Like the other man merely considered defeating them as a challenge or a puzzle to be solved.

Still, Koby could only feel a potent rush of relief at seeing one of Luffy’s crew members alive. Knowing Luffy was okay had been enough for a while, but the captain knew that he loved the other Straw Hats so very much. And they weren’t there at Marineford, which meant something had happened to separate them.

And it wasn’t willing.

He knew that much.

“You’re alive,” he said instead of a greeting.

Why was he so awkward?

“Thank you for standing up to the Admiral,” Drake said, a soft smile on his face. “And I hope your morals will allow for a conversation with a pirate.”

He knew what the rules were. Koby should call for others and have the pirate arrested immediately.

But…

Luffy’s face when he saw Akainu’s fist through his brother’s chest.

What sort of Justice was that?

Koby closed the door and locked it, stepping forward to sit.

“In the city where I grew up,” Drake began once he sat down. “There was a man whom I admired a lot. You have to understand that our law enforcement was deeply corrupt. Most of them were in the pockets of mobsters and the like. That man worked very hard to clear out those bad officers and tried to fix the system from the inside. He is a good man with a strong sense of morality and was willing to get his hands dirty if it meant that he could help the people of his city. Because he knew that the trust they should have had in systems meant to protect them had long been lost.”

Not much was known about Drake. His past was a big question mark, and none of the Blues or any part of the Grand Line would claim him. Koby had looked at all of the files on the Straw Hats after Marineford. His past was a mystery of the highest order, one that made him a perfect intelligence officer. No one knew him, so he could be whatever anyone needed. This could be a ploy of some sort, a giant lie to gain trust.

But Koby was pretty good at reading people. Or, well, he thought so.

The man before him hadn’t lied once since he entered the room.

“I haven’t heard of an island like that,” he said.

“No,” Drake agreed, folding his hands together. “You wouldn’t.”

Well, that was about as clear as silt.

“It could be a lie.”

“Do you think what I’m saying is a lie, Koby?”

They stared at each other.

Koby slumped his shoulders ever so slightly, “No.”

“I can’t go home again,” Drake said, as if he were talking about the weather. He sounded near serene about it, as if it was something that he had accepted a long time ago. “The way back is closed to me, so I need to move forward. If this is my world and my home, then I want to help it too.”

“By being a pirate?”

“I was a hero once,” he said, looking older than his young face. “But this world doesn’t allow for heroes. You know that what is going on isn’t right.”

It wasn’t. Koby had no clue what Drake meant about being a hero. But he knew what he learned wasn’t right.

No man should be put to death because of who his father is.

No one should be greater than another because of an accident of birth.

All Koby wanted to do was help people.

That was his dream. He thought being a Marine was the best way to do it.

He wondered if he was wrong sometimes. Usually, when he woke up in his sweat-soaked bed, the screams and cries of Luffy, who saved him, for his dead brother, echoing in his ears.

“I made an oath.”

“To the World Government or to the people?”

Koby looked down at his hands and thought of Luffy punching a Celestial Dragon in Sabaody. He read every file he could get his hands on because even though they were enemies, Luffy was his friend.

Akainu’s fist through Ace’s chest, and Luffy’s wail like the soul was being ripped out of his body. God, that sound haunted Koby’s dreams some nights. It was primal, animalistic, feral.

Heartbroken.

Where was the Justice in that?!

Drake was right. He hated to admit it, but he was right.

What was going on wasn’t justice.

It wasn’t anything.

It was just cruel.

All people wanted was the right to live and not be scared. Why did that seem like such an impossible thing nowadays?

“What do you need?” he asked, feeling tired and older than he was.

“Nothing,” Drake paused, considering his next words carefully. As if he knew that Koby was on a hook that could only be described as tenuous. “Nothing right now. But if you learn something that doesn’t sit right with you, then I want you to send a message.”

He just wanted information?

“You have a Den Den or something?”

“Or something,” he said with a smile. “I’m working on the goddamn snail.”

Koby watched as Dra—Tim (he earned the right to call the other man by name if only because he was committing light treason for him) leaned toward an open window and whistled.

All the nearby birds went dead silent at that as if awaiting an order.

Koby swallowed thickly.

He wasn’t sure if he should be happy that Luffy had such capable people around him or worried about what terrors they would be when they all really hit their stride. Vice Admiral Garp had stories about chasing Gol D. Roger, and they all sounded a bit terrifying.

“So I just ask a bird to take a message to you?”

“I teach you a whistle, then you use the whistle and ask a bird that shows up to take a message to me,” Tim said pleasantly.

He demonstrated the whistle.

Koby was able to copy it easily enough, and a bird flew in with its leg out for a message. Tim dismissed it with a little scritch of the head and a seed.

Whatever, it wasn’t the weirdest thing that the captain has seen in his life.

“And as a gesture of good faith and a thank you for what you did back in Marineford,” Tim said, pushing a file folder toward him. “About what you’re looking for on Hachinosu, along with ways to get on and off the island undetected.”

He wasn’t even going to ask how he knew this.

Koby knew that was a fool’s errand.

“Why me? Why do you think you can trust me?”

“Because my Captain trusts you,” Tim said. “And you remind me of the man I told you about. Commissioner Gordon was, well is, a man of great integrity and honor, but I don’t believe you can heal the problems inherent in these systems from the inside. I believe they need to be torn down and be rebuilt a new, on better foundations. However, I understand that my views aren’t your views, and it comes down to what we can live with.”

Well, at least he was honest, Koby supposed.

He looked at the file.

“And just information?”

“Whatever doesn’t sit well with you,” Tim said. “You pick what you send me.”

“We could be enemies someday.”

“We could,” he agreed, but smiled as if thinking of a good memory. “But that’s what makes life interesting, isn’t it?”

Oh yeah, Koby could see exactly what drew Luffy to Drake Timothy, the Maker of Kings.

He looked down at the file, and when he looked up, Timothy was gone. How in the name of the Blues did he…?

“Koby?” Helmeppo called from behind the locked door. “We got a call about something.”

Koby put the file on his desk, “Coming.”

He’ll read it later.

Five Years Ago

“It’s hard,” Tim said softly, voice so full of empathy and understanding. “Being a leader.”

Luffy curled around his knees tighter. Zoro’s ultimatum was still in his head. Usopp had to apologize or the swordsman would leave the crew. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Tim right now.

Usopp came to Enies Lobby and helped them, even though they had a fight. That mattered, but the swordsman said he needed to apologize. That Luffy was the captain, and there was some protocol they had to follow.

A chain that needed all of its links to be strong.

But it made him sick because what if Usopp didn’t? A man has his pride, Gramps said.

His intelligence officer sat next to him, and he kept talking.

“I led teams back in my home world. And it was hard because you can’t keep an emotional distance, not really. You care about those you lead, and they become friends or family or something more than what you want of them,” Tim paused. “I felt like I was dying when Bart and Kon died. They came back, amazingly, but it really messed me up for a bit.” 

The thing about Tim was that he treated Luffy like he was smarter than he was. Like he could read between the lines of what he was saying.

“So you think that Zoro is right?”

“Even though you never said it outright, he is your first mate. And it’s his job to make sure you don’t do something that could hurt the crew. It’s also on Zoro to make sure the ship runs as you want it to. It means that he doesn’t step in often because you’re not that type of captain and we’re not that type of crew,” Tim said, gently. “You’re a good captain, Luffy. But it’s his duty to make you great. Sometimes, greatness means being harsh. You trust us to do our jobs, yeah?”

Luffy nodded.

Obviously. If they weren’t so good at their jobs, then they wouldn’t be on the crew. The future Pirate King needed the very best in the whole world and beyond, apparently.

Tim wrapped an arm around his shoulder, which was nice. He liked the pressure of people holding him when it was done in a good way. He moved closer into the warmth of his tactician’s body. He smelled of salty ocean air and something spiced and ink.

“Well, by challenging you, Usopp said he didn’t trust you to do your job. You have to make the harder calls. We have to trust you in those moments when we don’t have the luxury to think or talk it out. And, more importantly, we need to trust that each other will follow your orders when you give them.”

Luffy turned it over; the pressure from being held was helping him parse out what Tim wasn’t saying.

“And Usopp apologizing will help with that?”

Tim nodded, “We all loved the Merry, Luffy. And, yeah, maybe you could have phrased things better because you had to know it would have hurt Usopp’s feelings, right? I wasn’t there, but that’s what it sounded like to me.”

Yeah, he did. But he wasn’t good at delicate talking. No one ever showed him how to dance around others’ feelings when it was just easier to be blunt.

Tim must have seen it in his face.

“So Usopp needs to apologize because you are the captain and you gave an order. We need to hear him say those words because we need to know that we can trust him to back us up. No one else is leaving, but it needs to be done.”

Luffy considered everything carefully. Tim understood the burdens of leadership, so they could talk about it. Zoro was doing his job as best as he could, not threatening to leave forever, because he needed to help Luffy be a good captain. Luffy needed to work on his words for situations like what happened with the Merry, but in order for the crew to be the best of the best, they needed to trust him.

Usopp needed to apologize because they all needed to move on.

Huh.

Okay, that? That wasn’t too bad when he looked at it like that. He smiled and kissed Tim on the cheek with a loud smack.

“Tim’s really smart.”

His tactician smiled tiredly, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there before it got bad. We had to learn de-escalation techniques. Maybe I could have helped.”

Tim had tried to track down where Franky had disappeared to. Or where Robin had gone. He had come back to find everything a mess in the aftermath of the fight between Usopp and Luffy. There was nothing that could be done because he was trying to do what they needed at the time.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said.

(Tim learned about CP9 when he figured out Robin attacked Iceburg. When he realized that something was there to be unraveled. He had come to them with information needed to arm themselves, what he had learned from rumors and whispers throughout the underground of the island.

He figured it out a little too late because he needed more context to reach those conclusions. But he did, and he helped Chopper save Rope Guy and Ice-Pops. And then he run off to meet with Sanji at the sea train, worried that the cook would have to travel it alone.

It was in those days that Tim’s skill as a detective had truly shone, and again at Enies Lobby. It cemented that he was truly an important part of the crew.)

The two of them sat together for a long moment. The roiling feeling in Luffy’s stomach felt calmer now. He let his head fall against his nakama’s shoulder, taking comfort in the contact.

“Thanks, Tim.”

He could see the curve of the other boy’s smile out of the corner of his eye.

“Anytime, Captain.”

Three Years Ago

“Do you ever wonder why Gol D. Roger didn’t take the One Piece?” Tim asked Robin one night. They were sitting together on the way from Wano. It was good to be going somewhere new after gearing up for the fight against Kaido for so long.

They were a Yonko’s crew now, their Captain had become an Emperor of the Sea. It was a glorious sort of feeling. One more step forward to achieving their dreams, one more step forward to fully being free.

Robin paused in her reading.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Tim said as he wrote down his encoded notes about their newest territories. “From the way some people talk about it, it sounded like the One Piece had been there before the Pirate King’s execution. Or, well, that it existed previously.”

Okay, she was going to need her bookmark for this conversation.

Tim waited patiently for her to locate it and place it in her book.

“Records about what lies at the end of the Grand Line are rather sparse for, well, reasons that I wish I could know,” she admitted. “And there has been debate, though not a lot of debate, about the veracity of its existence. The debate was whether or not it was a folk tale or something Roger declared as a final screw you to the World Government. Whitebeard, before his death, seemed to have confirmed that the treasure truly did exist.”

“So, he had to have seen proof then. Or he had trusted his friend’s word on the matter,” Tim said. “Gol D. Roger became the King of the Pirates because he found the One Piece. At least, that’s how I understood. Also, because that man was insanely powerful even without a Devil Fruit.”

That was true. Oh, what Robin would give for just five minutes to talk to the man, to figure out what he knew. Historically speaking, he’s an untapped goldmine of information. Every secret he had, he had taken to the grave. Out of loyalty, his crew did not speak about it or had disappeared into the ether.

Out of loyalty on their end, the Straw Hats did not try to spoil themselves. Which was why, if something was figured out, in regard to Tim’s powers of deduction, he kept it to himself. After all, according to their illustrious Captain, what was the fun of knowing the surprise? However, Tim did bring up some good questions: ones that she had been mulling over herself and others she didn’t quite consider fully.

What was the One Piece exactly?

Why didn’t Roger grab it?

Everyone knew he found the One Piece, added treasure to it…

But.

“Perhaps the answers will become clearer to us as we journey onward in the New World,” she said quietly.

“I just hope it’s not something that will bite us in the ass when the time comes. Because I keep thinking that Roger didn’t grab it because he knew it wasn’t the time to grab it. And it worries me.”

Robin knew that feeling.

Mainly because she was worried about that too.

“If it is,” she said. “Then we will deal with it together.”

Tim finally looked up from his work at that and smiled. She could feel his foot nudge her ankle. It was a fond gesture.

“I know,” he said. “Our prerogative to worry.”

Robin laughed.

“More you than me,” she opened her book. “I would have excelled as the ship’s intelligence officer, but I’m quite happy in my role.”

She was an assassin and a spy and a dozen other dark and dirty jobs, but she relished being a historian and an archeologist instead. Here she was truly the Scholar of Ohara that she was always meant to be. That was her role on the ship: to follow her dream. Of course, Robin collaborated with Tim quite well when he needed a partner who could handle covert work. Admittedly, she felt a sense of fondness when she learned of his old codenames back in his world.

Robin never believed in something like Destiny, but it is quite funny that she and Tim would meet.

“Just proves you’re the smartest one here,” Tim said. “I gotta talk to Nami about talks with Kaido’s other territories.”

“You know Luffy doesn’t care about such things.”

“I know,” he said, cracking his back as he stood. “But I’d rather not let Blackbeard or the Cross Guild get their grubby hands on them and ruin all our hard work. Don’t get me wrong, if Shanks wants to stake a claim it’s not a bad thing. But he has a lot of people under his protection; no need to give him gray hair. Plus, Nami and I do the books. Neither of us would say no to a consistent cash revenue stream. Either that or we start selling drugs on the side.”

He paused and seemed to genuinely consider it.

Robin was also glad she didn’t have to do bookkeeping.

“Well, you two have fun,” she said, opening to where she left off.

What did you know Gol D. Roger?

Chapter Text

“So, he’s really not giving Damian back his katana, huh?” Dick asked, still feeling guilty for last night. Not that there was anything to feel guilty about. As people continually pointed out to him, it was his job to give Damian the tools to make the right decision, but he couldn’t force him to do so.

What’s that old saying? You could lead a horse to water, but you can’t force it to drink or something? Dick never got it until incidents like these happened. He was still furious with Bruce for letting it get so far and upset with Alfred for insisting on a family dinner.

But the situation was fucked, and they were all trying to navigate it the best they could. It wasn’t good for Bruce and Damian to be locked up in the study all the time or for their guests to feel the cold shoulder even more intensely, but…

Maybe Jason had the right idea of staying as far away as humanly possible from the impending shitshow. Or maybe he sensed the danger of Tim’s crew and decided that it wasn’t worth a potential ass-whooping. Seeing Zoro so very clearly holding back against Damian, who was definitely the best swordsman within the ranks of teen heroes and some of the adults, hammered in how dangerous the pirates were.

But so was Dick.

So was Bruce.

So was everyone who decided to take up arms, whether to conquer the world or protect it. Power was power, Dick had learned a long time ago. Choices were what made people.

But he also was going to be hearing about the katana for a while and just wanted to know if this was a forever thing or not.

Tim’s your poor bastard look was still as effective at twenty-two as it was when he first busted it out at age fourteen. They had gone out to breakfast, just the two of them. Alfred and Babs had volunteered to take Tim’s crew out for a bit so they could have one-on-one time.

They were at a favorite diner that Dick would take Tim to in the summer. He’d take him away from whatever work Bruce was having him do, and they would get great diner food, bad coffee, and go to the arcade across the street for DDR.

“Zoro believes in the honor of a swordsman. That is his whole deal,” his brother said, sounding supremely unconcerned and a touch apologetic for the inevitable shitstorm that Dick’s about to weather. “I think he believes that Damian isn’t living up to it. Once he sees that Damian has learned his lesson, then he’ll give him his katana back. But not before then.”

Dick sighed, taking a sip of the bad diner coffee.

“I should have stayed for dinner last night.”

“Dick, it’s not your duty to police what Damian says or does,” Tim said as he flipped through the pages of the menu thoughtfully. “It’s been a problem, even if it has improved with good friends and your guidance. And having a haughty and arrogant attitude doesn’t make someone like horrible or whatever. It just means they have to learn different lessons than you did or I did. Zoro was the best one to teach him this lesson.”

Still, Dick was Damian’s Batman. He should be better at this.

But his other brother set down the overcrowded diner menu with a decisive thunk.

“Seriously,” he said as if reading his train of thought. “He does well with you. He’ll do well with this. I’m pretty sure if he apologizes to me and means it, then Zoro would give him his sword back.”

Yeah. Yeah, that would be good.

And suddenly Dick felt really bad for both talking about Damian during their bonding time and that Damian’s dislike of Tim and verbal assaults were still such an issue.

“I did think he stopped with that stuff. I’m sorry that it wasn’t handled better. And I’m sorry for talking about him during our time together.”

“I know,” Tim said, but he didn’t sound upset by it. He sounded more bemused. “I just think I have a way of pissing him off for whatever reason. Trust me, there was this guy back home? Eustass Kid, yes, I know, weird multiverse echo or something, and I pissed him off on purpose. Mainly because he and I had different ideas on acceptable collateral damage and what that looked like. As for Damian, I stopped being offended by it a long time ago. He’s not my brother, like you’re my brother. That’s just the way it is right now.”

That hurt to hear, a little, but that didn’t make it any less true.

Dick should have done more. Or should have gotten Bruce to get his head out of his ass to do more before his presumed death or something. They should be a family. He should have pushed more when Tim “disappeared” all those months ago. He should have done something.

He just felt like he failed.

“Tim.”

“Dude,” his brother was typing on his phone. But his body language was loose and relaxed, genuinely so, not forced. “It’s fine. I don’t think either of us will weep over the loss of brotherhood or whatever. Damian just needs to learn some humility. Zoro taught him a lesson. Now, I am setting a boundary that I would like not to talk this thing to death, okay?”

Right.

“I’m sorry,” he said, because it felt like none of his apologies would ever be enough for all of it.

“He’s yours,” his brother said, firmly and with deep understanding. Dick could hear what was unsaid, your Robin, your sidekick, your partner, your kid. “Of course, you need to talk about him. I’d just like to talk about something else now, please.”

His heart swelled with love for this kid and for the sorrow at the years that Dick had missed, even accidentally. Clearly, there had been some emotional growth for Tim, who would have bottled it up.

“Tell me a story about your travels,” Dick asked instead. “Nami mentioned something about going under the sea? Or tell me about Kid.”

His brother snorted at that, “If I ever see him again, it’d be too soon. Nah. He got his ass beat by Luffy’s like…inspiration? I’m not really sure how to describe Shanks. But, yeah, Kid got his ass beat by him twice. And kind of, I don’t know, went into hiding?”

“I find it hard to believe you aren’t keeping track of him.”

“I mean, I am,” he said. “But I’m keeping track of a lot of people. So long as he’s not causing wanton carnage or whatever with his crew of Mad Max Fury Road extras, I just don’t care? Listen, he just cut a swath of destruction and didn’t care who got caught in the crossfire. And, well, maybe part of me is still…”

Wearing the R went unsaid, but Dick could hear it loud and clear.

“But I never liked him or his whole deal. And he didn’t like me. I largely just avoided him unless I couldn’t, and then I was professional, which drove him nuts.”

“Kill them with business talk, huh?”

Tim snorted and grinned, “Drove him up the wall.”

“And the island under the sea?” Dick asked, curious.

“Fish-Man Island,” his brother said with a smirk. Dick already knew that he was going to get the strawberry cheesecake stuffed French toast with extra sausage on the side. Because his little brother may have grown up, but he wasn’t that grown up. Especially not with his crew of Lost Boys and Girls led by a rubbery Peter Pan. It was the best kind of horrible for you diner food. “It was right after we met up again after we went our separate ways to train for two years. Kind of like Atlantis? It’s under the sea, and we need a special coating for our ship to travel there. Because we needed to get past the Red Line, which was this giant continent that divided the world.”

“Tell me about it,” Dick asked, more than happy to hear Tim tell of his adventures because he did want to hear about them, more than anything. He wanted this time to be about his brother telling him about this big and amazing life that he lived. 

It’ll work out.

He just had to believe it would.

Tim had two bo staffs; Bruce learned through this sweep. He’d figured out his son’s own countersurveillance and was looping the footage of an empty room so he could prepare himself. On its surface, it was a practical decision that spoke of his Tim’s pragmatic nature. If he lost or had one staff broken, then he would be good to go with a backup weapon.

But there was something about the second bo staff. It had an odd bit of heft to it; the metal glittered strangely under the light.

No.

There was something special about this bo staff. There had to have been.

Tim was incredibly deliberate in everything that he did or made. He wouldn’t have made a special second weapon unless it was needed regularly.

Bruce needed to take a look at the material. He couldn’t take it, obviously, maybe a scraping? If he could get the material under his equipment, then he could figure out what was so special…

Wait.

These so-called Devil Fruits were what was the source of power for many individuals in that world. It couldn’t just be water that was their weakness. Even Clark had a weakness to magic instead of solely to Kryptonite. Or, if there was another way to counter the Devil Fruits, then Tim had figured out how to use it in this bo staff to give himself an edge. His son was pragmatic, and Bruce knew that even being a pirate wouldn't have removed all of that pragmatism.

No. Tim would find a way to hold his own against gods and monsters and whatever else was hidden beneath the waves of an ocean world. 

He just wouldn't share it in order to protect his god-captain: Nika.

Bruce didn’t trust anyone who called themselves a god. Nor someone who surrounded himself by almost worshipful followers, his son amongst them.

He took the scraping from the staff.

He needed to protect himself, protect his family, because if Monkey D. Luffy decided that he was bored playing by their standards, then he needed a way to stop him.

Bruce no longer trusted anyone who smiled and laughed as much as him.

(He’d save Tim from this.)

Stephanie Brown did not regret much in her life. In fact, she refused to be the sort of person that regretted things. Did she wish that she had done some stuff differently? Maybe. But that wasn’t regret that was being older and wiser and looking back with an embarrassed cringe. And, yet, she could only describe her reluctance of approaching Tim as something as close to regret as she can get.

But things with the main Batfamily (aka the boys) were always so big and messy and ugh. She couldn’t even bring herself to have the mental wherewithal to handle it. She liked Damian. He was a good Robin to her Batgirl when they worked together. And, when it was Dick in the Batman suit, she felt like a knot in her chest could loosen.

Because then she felt like she didn’t have impossible standards to live up to. The only standards she had was her own.

She and Bruce were never going to be on the same wavelength about stuff. Especially after he fired her from Robin. Double that for her faking her death. Looking back on it, Stephanie could admit that Leslie probably went a step too far, but Bruce did know how to push people to their emotional edge and then feel vindicated or whatever when they went over screaming all the way down.

It was just awkward with her and Tim, even before the whole those six months I was gone were actually five years in Waterworld and I became a pirate revelation. Now, he was back, and all those gross feelings were back in full force. And, yeah, she had a kind of guy friend that she was sort of dating.

And yeah, Tim must have moved on in the interim.

Still, there was a mess of emotions that demanded to be cleaned up.

But Stephanie would feel better saying sorry for her messes in their relationship, especially the whole faking her death thing. Maybe, if he were so inclined, Tim would also apologize for his messes. And then they could maybe be friends again or something.

“Ugh,” she said as she shut her chem notes. The equations were swimming across the page from staring at it for too damn long.

“I hope that wasn’t directed at me,” a familiar voice said.

Well, speak of the devil and all that.

Tim looked good, Stephanie had to admit. Not that she was noticing in like an attraction way, just in the way you had to notice when someone looked good. He looked well rested. His smile was easier than it had been in a long while even by her estimation. His hair was ruffled and under a beanie, jeans baggy without being obnoxious, scuffed up Converse, and a giant flannel that showed off a Gotham Knights tank top.

His skin had color to it. He looked well rested. He looked happy, even though she was certain that all of this was probably fucking with him epically. But the happiness was still shining through despite the stress, like he was determined to feel joy.

Like he was determined not to let the cesspit of Gotham swallow him whole again.

It was like a grown-up version of the rich kid skater boy that she fell in love with, Stephanie realized. He looked more like Tim than Tim had in…forever.

“Dick’s parking the car,” he said easily. “I was hoping we could talk and maybe we can treat the starving college student to lunch?”

“What about your entourage?”

She didn’t do well with a perceived audience. At the dinner, there were pirates who were looking at her curiously before whispering to each other, trying to get the lay of the land, trying to assess threats. She wasn’t sure how she liked being on the other end of that.

“Being menaces to Alfred and Babs,” he said. “They’re going to the farmers’ market. And then are heading to a tech store. I talked a bit with Babs yesterday about some of my issues with the tech back home, but Franky’s the expert. And I think they’re having a playdate.”

Well.

Alrighty then.

She pushed out the chair with her foot.

“I’m surprised that you found something that could trip you up.”

Tim got a haunted look in his eye as he sat down, “Do not ask me to make any technology sense of their world, Stephanie. I had to find a breeding ground for a particular type of snail and then steal said snail in order to wiretap conversations. Some places have gas lamps, others have street lights and electricity. There are advanced computers in one place, and no one had even heard of such a concept. I had to become the fucking Pigeon Man from Hey Arnold, Stephanie. I did what I could with what I had, but there is a closet on the ship that is where I am allowed to scream out from frustrations.”

She stared at him at the end of his little rant.

And then she laughed.

It felt so familiar.

This was a grown-up version of a boy she once loved.

Hello, Tim. I missed you.

Tim grinned at her, as if he knew the rant would do that.

“That sounds terrible,” she said in between her giggles.

“Laugh at my suffering,” he sighed, leaning back. “Anyway, Franky, Usopp, and I are stocking up. We are bringing a haul back with us. It’s like when people go to Japan and buy like five extra suitcases for all the stuff they’re bringing home.”

It was a pang, but not one that made her hackles rise. Tim had made a life there, probably never thought he would come back.

This? This was a fluke.

A miracle, maybe.

But really a fluke.

“Tim,” she started, because she didn’t want to avoid the issue. It was the problem in those closest to Bruce. They followed in his lead in hiding their real feelings and not talking about anything until it boiled over.

“I’m sorry I was a shit boyfriend,” Tim said suddenly. “And that I made you feel less than. Because you were never, ever that, Steph.”

God, he really did grow up. Stephanie felt her throat close in response to the apology. Had any single one of them ever given her an apology and meant it?

A soft smile was on his face, “I thought of you a lot. I thought about everyone a lot while I was away. You were the best serious relationship I ever had, Stephanie Brown, even with all the pain. And you deserve more than all of this sort of life. I hope you find it. And if you decided to be whoever you want to be, day or night, I am always your fan.”

“Not number one,” she asked, clearing her throat. Stephanie was not going to cry.

“Number one goes to whoever is lucky enough to love you the way deserved to be loved,” he said.

“That was surprisingly smooth.”

He grinned, and kindly didn’t mention her wiping her eyes.

“I’m sorry too,” she said. “About everything on my end. I don’t regret it because I’m here and I’m me. And I like the me I became, which means taking the good with the bad. But…”

“Hindsight?”

God, hindsight.

“Yeah.”

Tim nodded.

“Can we go back to being friends again?”

“Buy my lunch first, Pirate Boy,” she said. “And then we’ll talk.”

“Pirate Man,” Tim protested as they stood up together to go meet Dick. The loser was probably standing around a corner somewhere and freaking out about their conversation.

“Get another two inches, and then you can be Pirate Man.”

Tim’s indignant noise could only make her laugh.

“May I join you in dinner prep, Alfred?” Master Sanji asked as he came into the kitchen. The butler paused in vegetable chopping to look over at the younger man. He was already rolling up the sleeves on his shirt.

And the young man did have a talent in the kitchen. Alfred Pennyworth had long since realized that the chef of the Straw Hat Pirates was hoping to learn recipes so that he could recreate them for Master Tim back home. It was the only reason that he was willing to part with his biscuit recipe, even if he was forced to use the American term of cookies.

“Of course, sir,” he said. “I believe I would much appreciate the company.”

Things had been tense since the previous night when Master Zoro had fought against Master Damian. Alfred had to admit that he shouldn’t have insisted that Master Bruce and his youngest son had come down to dinner. The young master had been sullen in the morning, insisting on eating in the kitchen rather than face the Straw Hats in the dining room. But he also seemed thoughtful? It seemed like perhaps the lesson of Master Zoro had stuck.

Even so, he had failed last night.

“You seem lost in thought,” Master Sanji said as he started to cut the vegetables for the mirepoix.

Alfred hesitated.

Due to the nature of his position within the household and his job, he merely kept things close to himself. The children, Master Bruce included, needed someone to be steady and there for them. He could admit his own failures that he wasn’t as present for some, like Master Tim, as others. But he did try.

Lord, he did try.

“I fear that I have failed all of the children under my charge,” he said quietly.

Master Sanji knew what it was to keep the home fires burning, Alfred could tell. He was the chef for a group who loved fiercely and fought in, what he suspected, was a harsh and unforgiving world at times. Secrets were spoken in kitchens, shared between baked goods and reheated food. Stories of woe and gladness spilled as soups bubbled away in their pots and bread rose in the dutch oven.

Alfred’s position in the Wayne Family always felt so tenuous to himself.

He was, after all, an employee. The loyal butler who had to rear a deeply traumatized child and tried to do the best he could while being so aware of the fact that he could be fired. Due to Master Bruce’s increasingly mercurial moods, the anxiety had stayed in the back of his mind.

The children needed the safety he could provide.

But he could never speak for them directly.

There is no mercy that could be had his soul when he failed them so deeply.

And yet, for some reason, they still loved him.

Even when he failed them.

(Master Jason across from him for tea, his posture loose until Master Bruce’s name will come up.

Master Tim smiled so fondly when he saw him, hugged him so tight.

He failed them.)

“It’s a thankless job,” Master Sanji said as he started slicing down the beef for the main stew for the night. The chunks were meticulously even. “Especially when you’re caught between a rock and a hard place.”

“Indeed,” he said. “I would have thought there would been more anger from Master Tim.”

After all, Alfred did nothing to stop the treatment. He tried to lessen things, but there was that power imbalance that Master Bruce pretended didn’t exist and Alfred was all too aware of. One fit of temper, he’d be out of a job and out of the family and unable to help the children. God, he had failed them.

Master Sanji merely hummed.

“My mother was a good woman,” he said. “She’d eat the awful food I would make her with a smile. But she couldn’t stop my brothers from kicking the shit out of me. Part of the reason was that she was sickly for a reason I won’t get into. But partly because she was aware of what my father could do to her as well.”

He started to sear the beef.

The butler’s eyes were on the younger man’s face. His own visible eye was softened: in a pleasant memory over a painful one. But, given the verbiage used, it was a bittersweet sort of pleasantness.

“It didn’t lessen the love I had for her. She tried her best with the circumstances she was in. You try your best with the circumstances you’re in. You can’t be a parent when you are being paid to be here. But you also love them all and the ghosts that have been left behind. I think the kids you’ve raised and are raising are aware of that on some level. The only one who can’t forgive yourself is you.”

Alfred swallowed thickly.

“Yes. Yes, that is rather true, I fear.”

“There’s going to be a reckoning sooner or later between Tim and Bruce,” Master Sanji said, apparently aware of Alfred’s rule of no bugs in the kitchen to talk freely. “Just like there was a reckoning between myself and my family and the others are their pasts. It’s not a bad thing to want things to change.”

Alfred has had wanted things to change for a long time. All of Master Bruce’s children seem to have to have their own reckonings with him. All he wished was that they could just…love each other.

But maybe the wishes of Mr. and Mrs. Wayne for the future of the halls of the Manor will just go unheeded. They wanted the shrieks of laughter of children and grandchildren.

He failed them.

“I have failed them.”

“You haven’t. The kitchen is sacred,” the blonde said, stirring the pot with a practiced hand. He was allowing Alfred to safely release his complicated emotions without pressure. “You made this a safe haven. They come here because they trust you to give them that space. When he first arrived in our world, Tim would spend hours in the kitchen with me. Because you made that space for him safe.”

Tears stung at the corners of Alfred’s eyes.

“I do not think I did much.”

“It doesn’t really matter what you think,” Master Sanji said, but his voice was soft. “It matters what they think in the end. Everyone in your house is very determined to be miserable. But you carved out the one place of consistent happiness that they chase, even so far from home. There is something in that, Alfred.”

The butler breathed in and out slowly, trying to ignore the lump in his throat.

May he be free of this guilt one day for all the children he tried to help, but failed.

Perhaps, he did not fail them as badly as he thought.

“Tea?” Master…Sanji, just Sanji, asked.

“Please,” Alfred said. “Thank you for helping with dinner.”

The man turned and gave a brilliant smile. It reminded him so much of that brilliant grin that Mrs. Wayne would give him that his heart always felt like it would burst.

“I’m a chef. People need feeding in the body and the heart sometimes.”

Chapter Text

Three Years Ago

“Wait!” Nami said, looking around frantically. They were all together, but one final important person was missing. “Tim’s not here yet!”

They were all almost reunited again. Usopp had never thought he would know this sort of joy, maybe if he saw his home island and Kaya again. Everyone had changed and grown so much in the two years since they had separated. They had become stronger because what happened to Luffy in Marineford would never, ever happen again not with them around. The sheer relief at knowing that they had all survived was something that the sniper could only be grateful for.

Someone was missing in the reunions, however. Tim hadn't shown his face while they reunited in Sabaody, fighting their way back to the Sunny and the Fake Straw Hats and...

Did he find his way home?

Did Tim go home? He would have let them know, right?

However, they needed to leave now between the Marines, Pacifistas, and everyone else; they had to leave Sabaody for good. If Usopp ever saw this place again, then it would seriously be too soon.

“I’m here,” he heard a very familiar voice yawn. “I’ve been here for like three hours. Got to the area about three days ago.”

Tim was sitting on the swing, which had been his favorite place to stare out into the middle distance and think. Usopp had never been more relieved to see anyone just appear from nowhere in his whole life. Even though he hated it when their intelligence officer did that to begin with. It always scared the shit out of him.

The tactician would say that it wasn’t his fault he was a teenage vigilante who benefited from stealth. Usopp said that Tim just liked to see them jump out of their skin. It still remained true. 

"Tim!" Robin said, running over in her cool and elegant way to hug him tightly. He smiled and gripped her back, resting his forehead on her shoulder. 

“What?!” Franky demanded, who had gotten to the area first. “Bro why didn’t you say anything?”

“Catnap,” the tactician said as the archeologist pulled away. “I was also preparing.”

“For what?! We could have used our tactician!” Sanji said.

Zoro was smirking, Usopp noticed. He only did that when the cook got riled up or when he smelled chaos in the air. Yeah, you make look all cool and mysterious with your missing eye and samurai coat, but he was still a shit-stirrer. No one changed that much in two years. 

Tim smirked back at the swordsman and cook.

Oh.

It was for chaos then. 

“That,” Tim pointed out, and let out an inhumanly sharp and piercing whistle. Usopp followed where he was pointing, up to the clouds. 

"Wh—ohholyshitwhatisthatthing?!" Brook screeched. 

A massive fucking bird emerged from the clouds with an unholy shriek and proceeded to dive bomb a Marine ship, cracking it in half.

“And that,” Tim said.

Another Marine ship blew up.

“And that,” he said.

In the distance, where the remains of the old slave auction house used to be, the one that Tim blew up two years ago, there was another explosion.

So he blew it up again. Awesome, if he does it a third time, then it automatically made it a tradition.

“Also, if you noticed the original Kuma glitching slightly during the fight?” Tim asked. He beamed when Luffy nodded. “I uploaded a virus onto him to jailbreak him just enough so he didn’t have to fight you if he didn’t want to. It wasn’t a perfect fit, but enough to make him glitch ever so slightly. Fucking finally found an island with working computers. My kingdom for an opportunity to look at the other Pacifista’s code properly. After I did all that, I figured we’d meet up on the Sunny, so then I came here and took a nap.”

Luffy was laughing because, of course, he was. He loved it when Tim became unhinged and rained his own brand of chaos down. 

“What the fuck,” Usopp said with feeling, watching as the massive bird flew up, up into the sky to attack again.

“I am a friend to the birds now,” Tim said simply. “I am their leader. I am the Pigeon Man.”

“What the fuck is a pigeon?” Zoro asked, clearly forgetting about Lucci and his pigeon.

Or maybe he forgot pigeons existed. That sounded like something he would do.

Or maybe he was still shit-stirring. Usopp could read poker faces, but then there was the swordsman's and that threw everything out the window. 

The sniper almost forgot how fucking stupid some of his crewmates could be. He was so happy to be back with them. Judging by how teary-eyed Nami was also getting, she was thinking the same thing. 

Tim stared at Zoro in bafflement for a minute, looked at the sniper who shrugged, before turning back to the swordsman.

“I don’t know if you’re joking or not. Do you just think of swords and booze? Are you fucking with me?”

Zoro merely grinned innocently as the tacitican narrowed his eyes. Robin laughed softly as she leaned against Franky. Brook twirled around with Chopper with a yohoho.

“Cool,” Luffy said, leaning forward to watch excitedly. His manic grin only grew wider as the giant bird joined the mix of those who harbored and helped them over the past two years. Usopp thought they were glossing over the fact that Tim also blew up a Marine ship, but who amongst them hadn’t?

“Looks like I’m making perches,” Franky said, eyeing the massive bird. “Nothing for that thing, right?”

“Nah,” Tim said. “That was just a favor that I was owed. I have a few more from her, but I use it sparingly."

Usopp missed this asshole, but, by all the fucking Blues, was he not good for his nerves. At least they weren’t getting Gotham stories off the bat.

“Shishishi,” Luffy laughed as he turned to look at his crew.

He grinned wildly.

And, suddenly, they were all grinning back.

Well, Usopp supposed there was no other way to head to the New World except with a wave of chaos and destruction within their wake. His heart felt full at the sight of all of them safe and alive and real.

From the smiles on everyone’s faces, he knew they felt the same way.

And then Luffy’s arms shot out, pulling them all into a giant hug.

“My nakama,” he said fiercely. Their captain, whom they would do anything for, because he would give everything for them. “I missed you guys so much!”

For the first time in two years, Usopp felt fully and utterly whole.

One Year Ago

The lawn deck of the Sunny was always nice to lie on. Tim wasn’t sure what kind of grass Franky used, but it felt like the perfect sort of grass that made him think of lying in the Manor’s gardens. It was soft under his skin and never felt weird or itchy. It was especially amazing to stare at passing clouds on warm summer days. Or, well, summer-ish given that they were near a cluster of warmer islands of this part of the Grand Line. 

If Nami’s map was to be complete, then they needed to sail absolutely everywhere. She wanted to make a map of the world on her terms? Then she was making a map of the whole world, no matter what. So, they had been tackling the Grand Line through an entrance in the West Blue. It was a new adventure with new islands and places to see.

Who knew how long it would take this time? Who knew what they would see? He was trying to focus on the joy of it all with his eyes shut tight. There was so much to do and…

The weird feeling of grief was still there. 

“You seemed distracted,” Brook said, the bright orange and gold platform shoes he bought three islands ago clicked pleasingly as on the wood part of the deck. “Are you, my friend?”

Tim cracked an eye open at that and sighed. He sat up on his elbows as the musician walked onto the grass. 

“Was it that obvious?”

It was amazing how much emotion you could read in a skull, Tim thought. Brook certainly knew how to be expressive.

“The names of blood types are different here,” Tim said, unsure of how to start this conversation. "Seasons are localized to different islands. It’s all different except the calendar. That stayed the same to mock me.”

“Ah, an anniversary?”

“My mother died today,” he said, because Brook was deeply familiar with grief. “It’s funny. I haven’t thought about it in years.”

“Grief often sneaks up on us in the most insidious ways,” said the one man who wore his grief like an old friend rather than a burden. Or, perhaps, he had gone insane enough to do so.

“I don’t mourn them much,” he said, because this person could hear these things. Those members of the Straw Hats who knew their mothers had fond memories of them. It was their fathers, if they had them, who were often the disappointments or never there for them to form an opinion one way or another. “My parents. I don’t know if this is grief.”

Tim knew that his past before Bruce felt like a minefield to the crew members who cared to know about such things. There wasn’t really anything to it. He was a lonely kid who ended up growing into a lonely teenager who would have grown into a lonely adult. He isn’t lonely now and would never be again with the Straw Hats.

Nakama, Luffy called them. It felt like something more sacred, like a bond deeper than friendship or even family. They knew that they would never leave each other in the end. Gol D. Rogers' crew had scattered to the ends of the Earth after the man’s death.

Tim knew they would be the opposite. They would go together or not at all.

He made his peace with that long ago on Laugh Tale.

He still felt an ache from Cassie, Bart, and Kon. That was his grief: raw and real. He missed Bruce, Dick, Alfred, Cass, Stephanie, and Babs now that he had gotten over himself in regard to his issues with the Bats he was once close to. That was what he grieved from his world. He wished he could have let them know how much he loved them.

But he refused to let it chain him down like it did his mentor, like it did Jason.

Most days, he felt like he succeeded.

But, no, he didn’t grieve his parents in that way. He missed the people that they could have been to him. His Dad was trying in the end. And his mother cared when he was younger, but something happened to make her so cool and distant even with her son.

Was it him? Was it something else? His mother was more of a mystery than anything else to him now. It felt like something that would never be solved as he grew older. And part of him hated leaving a mystery unsolved, but his mother was always going to be that unsolved puzzle. 

And he had to live with that, didn't he? 

“Tim?” Right, Brook. He had been sitting while his mind wandered.

“Sorry,” he said, with an awkward smile. “My parents weren’t really made to be parents.”

“I don’t think many people are made to be parents,” the skeleton agreed. “Merely grow into the roles. Like how one becomes a master musician. It is practice and dedication that make one a parent.”

“They didn’t put in the practice. I was just a check on a list of things they needed to be successful professionals,” Tim stared up at a cloud. “I was a doll. I was meant to be paraded around in front of investors and at galas, a talking point in meetings. Most of the year, however, I was left in the big empty house with their discoveries and trinkets or at boarding schools. I was part of the collection. There weren’t very many people there. I didn’t have a village around me until much later and even then it was..."

"Complicated, I believe," the skeleton said. 

Yeah.

Complicated. 

Brook’s own circumstances with what happened to his crew were terrible, of course. But even surrounded by the bones of those he loved, he, at least, knew those people loved him. Luffy had his brothers, and Usopp had the whole of Syrup Village. They were still surrounded by care and love, even if it was untraditional. Tim wondered sometimes when he was younger. His parents loved him the only way they knew how, but did they like him?

He still wondered that as an adult.

A skeletal hand pulled the intelligence officer in for a hug with surprising strength. 

“That sounds like a miserable childhood, my dear friend.”

Tim laughed at his bluntness.

“It was, but it left me with free time.”

God, he missed the cameras of his world. He hadn’t found a type here that he liked, that he could replicate the experience with. Franky said he would make a dark room for Tim when he found something.

“Ah, yes, for following heroes in the dead of night through a dangerous city to take pictures of them,” Brook said, but his voice was fond as if he found such habits charming. “Enough to make the hair on my arms rise. Well, if I only had such things, yohoho.”

“That’s a nice way of calling me a stalker,” he said with a grin. “Mother taught me a lot, though. I don’t think I’d be half as good at my job if it wasn’t for her.”

Pay attention, Tim. Never let them guess what you are thinking. Be whoever the person talking to you needs you to be. You’re clever and sharp, make sure you can flatter on a dime.

“Though I suppose she wouldn’t be all that proud.”

Would she?

Tim hadn’t even thought about how his parents would hypothetically feel about this. His father hated him being a Robin, so he couldn’t imagine the man, even as he was before his end, when things were good between them, liking this. His mother, however…

Well, if Tim was going to be a pirate, then she would have wanted him to be the best in his field. Working for the King of the Pirates would have been something, at least.

“Mother wanted me to run the business,” he said. “But she said that if I had passions outside of it, then I was to be the best at what I do. So, maybe, she would be proud in her own way.”

“A complicated woman.”

Tim leaned his head back onto the grass.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “On that I can agree. She was complicated, but I still love her. Maybe even I miss what could have been between us. Because I know she loved me. In her own way. She loved me the only way she could. I loved her the only way that I could. And it’s…”

He just let the statement hang there.

“I think that is a sentiment that many on this ship would share with you.”

Yeah.

Maybe.

Tim felt the grass under his hands and breathed out a slow, deep breath.

Are you proud of the man I’ve become, Mom? Dad?

Do you love me still in the only ways you could?

He didn’t want to stew and brood in his sadness. So he stood up instead and kissed the cheekbone of the sitting skeleton.

“Can you play a song, Brook? Maybe we’ll get a party started.”

“Now that is an excellent suggestion,” the musician said, standing with his violin. “I believe our dear captain was feeling a bit restless. Zoro said he wouldn’t fish him out for a fifth time in one day.”

They both knew it was a lie, of course, but better safe than sorry.

Five Years Ago

“So, what is with the whole D thing anyway?” Tim asked. Chopper looked up from where he was wrestling with Luffy and Usopp on the deck of the Going Merry.

“What do you mean?” Nami asked from her tangerine trees. Sanji followed her with a basket of the fruit in his arms. Oh man, Chopper hoped it meant that Sanji would make that frozen dessert with the tangerines tonight! It was soooo good.

“Well, it’s just Gol D. Roger, Monkey D. Luffy, Portgas D. Ace,” Tim said. “I was just wondering if it was a thing here. I just never heard it with another letter.”

Huh, Chopper supposed that was a bit odd. Though admittedly, three names were a bit of a small sample size. But Tim did excel in pattern recognition; it was really cool!

“Dunno,” Luffy shrugged, uncaring. “I’ve always been Monkey D. Luffy. Never really thought to ask. Oh! But Ace’s mom was Portgas D. Rouge. He’s always been really proud of her.”

He looked supremely unconcerned, Chopper thought. But that’s what he admired about Luffy. The reindeer tended to worry and stress about random things, but he wished he could let it roll off his back like his captain did.

“Those bearing the initial D,” Nico Robin began, closing her book. She was still a bit scary, but seemed to warm to the topic. “Appear throughout history. There is believed to be power in that initial. Though, admittedly, it is a mystery.”

“Huh,” Tim said thoughtfully. He was fiddling with some of his gear. “You know, in my world, we have magic.”

Everyone snapped to look at him at that. Not Zoro because he was asleep, Chopper could see his slow, even breaths.

“Magic,” Usopp said, sounding disbelieving.

“You all use fucking snails as phones,” Tim replied. “And don’t get me started on the absurdity of different Devil Fruits. I’m going to have a nervous breakdown over it all.”

That should concern Chopper as Tim’s doctor, but he looked at Usopp to judge how concerned he should really be. Sometimes, human tone can fly over his head. While the sniper also tended to be over-the-top, he always let the doctor know if there was something to really be concerned about with what another person was saying.

Usopp caught Chopper’s gaze and leaned down, “Tim’s just being dramatic.”

“I’ll show you dramatic,” Tim said, and the reindeer could hear the audible gulp from his friend.

“Shishishi,” Luffy leaned back, grinning at them all.

“Mister Tactician,” Nico Robin said. “What does the letter D have to do with magic?”

“Right,” Tim said, returning to the topic. “Sorry, Miss Nico. Admittedly, magic wasn’t my area of expertise. My mentor had little trust in such practices, and I never really liked some of the more unpredictable results myself. But we did have files on it, and I liked knowing things.”

He leaned forward as if telling a ghost story, despite the bright sunny day. Unconsciously, Chopper and others of the crew leaned forward toward Tim. He could tell, from how Zoro’s heartbeat picked up, that even the swordsman was awake for this, even if his eyes were closed.

“Now there are beings, concepts given form, who were there from the creation of the universe: the foundations of all things. At least, so it went in my world, the weird thing that sticks out to me is that these beings all have names that begin with D.”

“Really?” Nico Robin asked. She sounded far too intrigued for Chopper’s nervous liking.

Tim nodded, “Destiny, Death, Dream, and there were others, but, well, it became clear to me that I wasn’t going to meet any of them.”

He then squinted his eyes thoughtfully, “Well, maybe Death. I have almost died a few times. Maybe Death had a near Tim experience. But I don’t remember. But it’s just funny to me, you know? Sometimes, different worlds have different presentations. Sometimes, things echo across the multiverse.”

How cool and a little scary. Chopper wondered what else would echo between the universes.

Luffy was picking his nose when he asked Tim.

“So the D in my name is one of those guys?”

The tactician shrugged, “Maybe. Or a concept that you represent in some way. It’s just something I found interesting, is all.”

“Huh,” the black-haired boy smacked his lips. He rocked on his feet for a minute, thoughtfully, before asking. “Hey Nami, can I have a tangerine?”

Just like that, the tension that had somehow been hanging over the air of the ship had broken.

Chopper could see everyone chuckle and shake their heads in fondness. Nico Robin still looked far too thoughtful, and Tim looked frustrated like he had a puzzle piece, but didn’t know what to do with it.

But then there were fresh tangerines, and Sanji did make that frozen dessert thingy. So, all thoughts about ancient beings with D in their name and all too human people who had the same initial faded from Chopper’s recollections about the day.

During the Straw Hat’s Separation

Vivi closed the door to her rooms behind her, sighing. It felt like her world was collapsing as her father’s illness held steady. It had baffled the doctors, but seemed to have been in a holding pattern. Karoo nuzzled her arm, offering comfort as she allowed her carefree attitude that she put up for her father’s sake to melt away into her worry.

“A crewmember of the Straw Hats shouldn’t be that upset,” a familiar voice said from the window. “Though, given the circumstances, I’m unsurprised.”

She didn’t cry as she looked at the lean form of Drake Tim, lounging on her windowsill as if he had always been there. But it was a very near thing.

She had been so worried since she saw the photograph of Luffy at Marineford, learning that he had been at the War of the Best without the others. It would have taken an act of the gods themselves to keep them away from their captain. She knew that in her gut.

“Tim,” Vivi said, feeling tears clog her throat.

“Hello Veevs,” he said softly. It was a silly little nickname that he had called her once, absentmindedly. But it was enough to make the tears overflow from her eyes.

Her fear of her father’s illness and the relief of seeing one of her friends alive and well sent her to the ground as Karoo cooed worriedly.

“Sorry,” Tim said as he hugged her close. “I was trying for cool and mysterious, but maybe not the right time?”

“It was a perfect time,” she said through tears.

He didn’t say anything else, merely holding Vivi as she cried into his chest. Not loud, messy sobs like a child, but just the weird mix of happiness and relief but also concern that had been dogging her throughout her father’s illness.

When she finally composed herself, she was sitting in the majlis with Karoo’s head in her lap and her dear friend’s arm around her. His calloused hand was stroking her hair softly and awkwardly in the way that he could be at times.

Tim always had been awkward and uncertain in her affections, but would give it if the comfort seemed to be needed. It showed the sweetheart that was beneath all of the repression and sadness that seemed to cling to him during Vivi’s time with the pirates. Now, well, it looked like it had lifted.

She was glad for him.

People deserve to be happy.

“Better?” Tim asked, producing a handkerchief.

“Sorry,” she said. “I feel like all you do is see me cry.”

“Eh,” her friend said with a shrug. “Nothing wrong with crying.”

She smiled wetly at that, and then felt a lance of fear through her. Tim had shown up alone. Where were—

Nami.

“Where are the others? What happened? What is—”

Her hands were gripped and squeezed gently, pulling her back down to Earth.

“Everyone is fine. Healthy and whole from what I’ve gathered,” he promised. “We got separated at the cusp of the New World. And we couldn’t…”

We couldn’t get to Luffy or Marineford in time. We had failed our Captain in the worst way possible. We were weak when he had always been strong for us.

Vivi’s heart ached at everything that wasn’t said, but was clear in the grief in her friend’s eyes, in the way his jaw clenched.

“We’re going to meet in Sabaody in a few months,” Tim said. “But I’ve been keeping tabs.”

“How?”

“Every ruler needs a spymaster,” he answered with a grin. “How do you think?”

Vivi stared at him with wide eyes. Of course, she knew, Luffy was going to become the King of the Pirates. She knew it with an unshakeable faith that believed in her father and in her people. And she knew that Tim excelled in the shadows and information gathering; their own spymaster was impressed.

(“He’s a wily one,” they said to her after the pirates had left. Their face was never seen so as to preserve anonymity. “I would not want to match wits with him one day. Best keep him on Albasta’s side, your Highness.”

Vivi wondered what in Tim their spymaster had seen.)

“You’ve been setting up a network.”

“I have,” he said pleasantly. “If you want, then I would like you to be part of it as well, Vivi.”

There was no doubt.

“I cannot betray my country, but I will help my friends if I am able.”

“I would never ask you to betray Alabasta,” he promised. “But if there is information you think is vital or help that is needed.”

“I can’t make you all turn around to help us,” she said, rubbing the tattoo of the X on her arm. “That wouldn’t be fair. Not if you’re going to the New World.”

They would be so close to the One Piece, to Luffy becoming King, to them achieving whatever their dreams were.

“I think, perhaps, you should let us decide,” Tim said softly. “But I also wanted to give you a way to write since I think mail is being monitored, especially if they believe it’s coming from pirates.”

She nodded, and Tim went to the window, whistling a pretty little tune. An albatross appeared with a little bowtie around its neck, hopping on Tim’s arm.

Karoo quacked curiously, and the albatross, which made a yammering sound back.

“She’s volunteered,” he said. “To be your Royal Albatross of Delivery.”

Vivi stared at him and at the bird and back at him.

“Listen, the goddamn snails are monitored,” he said, eye twitching slightly at the mention of Den Dens. “And while I have one now.”

“You have one?”

“I stole a black one,” Tim said innocently.

Vivi’s eyes widened.

“But it’s better to use the birds,” he insisted. “While the black Den Dens are supposedly the safest, they can listen in on other calls. I’d rather not chance things. Birds are safer for now.”

That made sense. She held her hand out to the albatross, who hopped on.

“If you can be nice to Karoo, then I would like for you to stay,” she said.

Karoo tilted his head, and the albatross that she will definitely have to name stared back, before seemingly giving an imperious nod of agreement.

Well.

Alright then.

Tim grinned, “Yeah. Yeah, this is a good decision. I can feel it.”

Vivi certainly thought so as well.

Two Years Ago

Perhaps it was unsurprising that on the third night of Luffy’s ascendancy as the King of the Pirates (and accidental Savior of the World or Destroyer depending on if you benefited or lost), his Wings and his Shadow finally got a moment to breathe together.

Tim, technically, shouldn’t have been out of bed. Considering that he had died, briefly but still, a couple of days ago during the final battle. He didn’t remember much of it, only that Luffy in Gear 5 had brought him back. The part of him that was Nika and all of him that was Luffy were in agreement on that, apparently.

But he never did well idle. So he snuck out of his room and planned to just sit on the swing on the Sunny, which they had sailed away from the festivities a few hours ago. Or, well, the confused chaos of giddy possibility and terror of an unknown world that needed to be shaped again. But, as Luffy often said, they were Pirates, not Heroes.

And there were still so many dreams to fulfill amongst them.

“You should be in bed,” Sanji said firmly, shirt rumpled and hair mussed. Zoro followed behind him, still mostly bandaged but looking pleased with himself.

Ah.

So they had been doing something along the lines of thank fuck we didn’t die horribly sex. Tim would never understand their friends-with-benefits relationship, but it suited them both.

“I think Chopper said no sex for at least a couple of weeks.”

“What Chopper doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” the newly crowned World’s Greatest Swordsman said. He sprawled in front of Tim’s feet indolently. “Besides, Swirly Brow is right. You should be in bed.”

He should kick Zoro in the head, but he wouldn’t because Tim is the nice one.

Or, well, so he wanted people to think anyway.

“I just wanted a moment to bask,” he said instead. “We did it. It just hit me in the bed. And I just…”

He needed to see the endless sea of stars made of unfamiliar yet so very familiar constellations. He wanted to smell the sea spray and just look out into the black of the ocean at night and feel a sense of satisfied victory.

Dreams fulfilled.

He had a family now, of people who won’t leave. They were way too co-dependent to disband the crew.

Sanji appeared behind him, grasping the ropes of the swing and leaning down to look at the intelligence officer. His one visible blue eye sparkled a bit excitedly, as excited as he was when the All Blue became real right in front of his eyes.

“We did it,” the Pirate King’s Left Wing told His Shadow.

Tim grinned, boyish and wide as the excitement pulse in his chest.

“Yeah. We did.”

The Pirate King’s Right Wing merely smiled up at them.

“Our Captain is the King of the Pirates.”

And until Luffy no longer wanted that title, then they were going to make sure he’d got to be that for as long as he wanted.

They won.

Chapter Text

Damian’s katana has been missing for a full day now, and he was not happy about it. Yes, he could admit that he lost the weapon fairly. It was, as Richard pointed out when he came by to talk (read: lecture) to him about the fight, a consequence for his actions. He was told to leave Drake be, and he hadn’t. He had gotten cocky and lost to a better opponent.

But, in his more childish part of his brain, did he have to take his weapon?

However, the green-haired bastard had squirrelled his katana away somewhere. The where part of it was alluding to him (even if Richard said that if found, he was still banned from using it for an unknown amount of time with Pennyworth’s backing). And the hidden katana was out of even Father’s capabilities in finding it. That little detail had Drake’s fingerprints all over it; he didn’t need to be a detective to see that.

As much as Damian hated to admit, Drake excelled in that sort of work. Five years of extra training in Pirate World, as Brown called it, only improved those skills.

Damian could admit, reluctantly in the privacy of his own mind, that Richard had a point about his pride. Timothy Drake was a fool and not worthy of the legacy of the Bat, but he wasn’t stupid. That was what made him so dangerous to begin with.

In another world, a dangerous one as context clues told Damian, he would surround himself with powerful individuals to make up for his deficits. Or he would improve upon his own skillset in order to survive.

Not that Damian would ever compliment Drake allowed or admit that his so-called friends are powerful people, but he can admit it quietly to himself. The former Robin had a knack for making friends with individuals with strength that demanded respect. He knew how to get them on his side.

Roronoa Zoro had clearly earned the title of the great swordsman in his world. He had never seen a man move with a blade that seemed to be as much a part of him as he was. Weapon and human were one in a way not even Grandfather could hope to beat. The fact that Roronoa was so clearly holding back was definitely a blow to Damian’s ego.

He wondered what stories Drake had spun for that lesson to be made so sharply. Richard said it was Damian’s own actions, but... He had to have said something. He wasn’t ignorant of the way the group of pirates looked down at him, watched him as if he was going to attack their crew member at any moment.

He didn’t like that they looked at him like that.

He was becoming better. He wanted to be better for Richard, for Brown, for Pennyworth.

For Father.

Damian was only doing what was correct. Much as he wished Drake would go. People in his orbit still loved him. He had seen how much his disappearance had wrecked his family over these past six months. But there were benefits to his not being there. In contrast, it had driven Father away from Gotham. However, it kept Richard as Damian’s Batman, and they seemed to find an equilibrium amongst each other. Even Todd had calmed down without a trigger for his Lazarus rage.

And then Drake was back through a freak accident of a summoning. He was older and powerful, a pirate who served the King of them. He talked about the other world as if it were home. And he knew that hurt people like Richard or Brown.

Despite Damian not wanting Drake around, people he cared about did.

And he didn’t know how to handle this. Emotions were difficult for him to understand.

So he called Jonathan Kent, as both Damian’s best friend (if he had deign to use such childish terminology) and the son of Lois Lane (and Superman, but Lois Lane’s sharp nature and ability to read people made her by far the more fearsome opponent of the pair), then he surely would have insights in how to handle the situation that he had found himself in.

His friend had listened thoughtfully as Damian laid out the situation and the confusing knot in his chest over it all.

“I think you’re confused,” Jonathan said, voice thoughtful. He was floating in the frame of Damian’s phone, picking at a stray thread in his jeans. “Do you hate Tim, or do you want him to stay?”

Of course, he didn’t want Drake to stay! But people he cared about did. Wasn’t he listening?

“I dislike Drake.”

“Well,” the other boy scratched his chin. “Dad says you don’t have, like everyone in the world. But you should try to get along with them, and if you can’t, then you just avoid ‘em. Unless they’re like racist or genocidal maniacs or something. Mom says it’s a good enough policy to get through your day-to-day life. Maybe Tim knows you two can’t get along, so he’s avoiding you to make sure people that you both love aren’t upset. Maybe it’s not about you, but about everyone around you.”

Damian paused in petting Alfred the Cat.

Trust Jonathan to cut through the heart of the matter.

Because he doesn’t like Drake and the feeling must be mutual, but they both care for Richard, Pennyworth, Brown, Gordon, and Cain. Maybe even Father, though Drake seemed to be studiously avoiding him as well. Still, the majority of people that they care about as individuals would be upset if the pair of them fought or had animosity toward each other.

This wasn’t the League where there were factions and politics around every corner and hidden under every rock. They had a different social structure, which Drake had been playing too and Damian had been too…rankled to consider.

Maybe Richard had a point about his pride blinding him.

Alfred the Cat bumped his hand with his head, demanding pets.

Damian resumed petting the feline.

“I fear you may have a point, Jonathan.”

“Maybe the sword guy will give you the sword back if you just apologize,” his friend added. hopefully. “You hurt Tim before, and I know he had you on that list thing that made you so mad. But just say sorry.”

“I have a warrior’s pride,” Damian said. “Grandfather and Mother…”

“Aren’t here,” Jonathan cheerfully interrupted. “And they sound kinda mean, no offense.”

An unsurprising statement from the son of Lois Lane, she truly embodied the old adage of a pen being mightier than a sword. But it was damn near scathing from Jonathan, who, much like his father, believed in if you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say it at all. He scooped up spiders to bring them outside and was generally a very nice person.

A good person.

Not that Damian would dare say such a thing aloud, but he appreciated Jonathan’s more hopeful view of the world. Because sometimes, sometimes, things did work out for the better.

“And you’re pride in being a warrior is about how good you are as Robin,” Jonathan said, unaware of Damian’s thoughts. “Sometimes you need to swallow a bit of pride in order to keep doing what’s right. I mean, once you’re done being sword-grounded anyway, even if you get your katana back. At least that’s how I see it.”

Damian continued petting Alfred the Cat.

“I don’t want to apologize to Drake, though.”

“And I don’t wanna eat salmon and broccoli for dinner,” Jonathan said, resting a hand on his cheek. “But we’re both gonna do it anyway.”

Damian hated it when the son of Superman was right.

For Richard, he decided, and for his honor as Robin, that superseded his warrior’s pride.

Damian Wayne will apologize.

Ugh.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Tim said to Robin as they walked through the cemetery. It had lush green rolling hills about a twenty-minute drive from Wayne Manor. He had come home from his outing in a good mood at the same time that they had come back from theirs. Apparently, his talk with his friend had gone well, and as a result of this, he looked more refreshed.

Good.

Robin was concerned that they were going to have to activate their escape plan sooner rather than later. But it seemed like each victory was a weight off Tim’s shoulders, and, hopefully, when they do depart, it would be on happy terms versus an escape. Though, admittedly, the three biggest threats to their beloved Intelligence Officer’s happiness had not been addressed: Bruce, Jason, and Damian.

Well, Zoro had Damian handled, she supposed. The youngest of the Wayne Family had seemed thoughtful after their fight. But, still, they were in a holding pattern for the time being.

However, Robin was more than patient. She and Tim had become each other’s backup on the Straw Hats in terms of their duties within the crew. They could do the other’s job or act in a way they knew the other would want. It was an understanding between two similarly minded individuals. And she enjoyed their carefully choreographed dance routine of mutual respect and understanding.

No one needed to know how well Tim could theoretically do her duty. Some things were best kept quiet.

Their friendship was one where words were rarely needed. Perhaps that is why he asked her quietly if she minded coming somewhere with him.

“I figured I should go see Mom and Dad at least once,” he said as they walked through the perfectly manicured lawns. The headstones gleamed under the sun, decorated with colorful displays of flowers or mementos.

One of them, she saw, had a recipe on the headstone. How fascinating.

Ground burials were, of course, not uncommon in their world, but they weren’t the norm. People tended to prefer cremation or sea burials instead. There wasn’t a lot of space, and any cemeteries were old or part of wealthy family lines. For many islands, the tradition was to have a family stone with the names of the dead carved into it, and the cremated remains were spread out over the sea.

“It’s nice,” Robin said.

“They would have loved it,” Tim’s grin was tinged with something deeply sad. “Buried in the Wayne family plots. Bruce had Dick’s parents buried once he could claim the bodies and, with Jason’s blessing, had his mother reinterred in the family plots.”

How interesting, and in line with her observations.

Bruce Wayne was a man who never recovered from the murder of his parents, nor the death of his child. Nor the hundred of other little tragedies that followed him like a death shroud, clinging to him as tightly as he clung to them. Like he was scared of who he was without it. Tragedy had dogged his steps, wrapping him in a slick and oily grasp, refusing to let the man go and sinking him ever deeper into a tar pit of his own unprocessed despair. She didn’t think that to be callous toward the man; it was a matter of fact.

Robin understood that letting tragedy define your life. Though her tragedy defined her throughout the world at large, Devil Child dogged her steps, and she always looked over her shoulder. Once the others made their stand at Enies Lobby, she was free of it. She had her nakama. She had her joy. It was infinitely better than wrapping yourself in tragedy in hopes that it would lead you to your death. That was not a way to live a life.

All of the Blues, it wasn’t a way for her to live her life. She was so much happier now since she had shed that choking, cloying grief from her. It would be part of her, but it wasn’t all of her.

Not anymore.

She wanted to shake him, Robin decided as she followed Tim. Bruce Wayne could have everything he had lost, but he was too scared to take the plunge into it. She could see how his children watch him, following him like flowers follow the sun, wanting scraps of his affection. All they wanted was for him to show his love for them. He could have the happy family in that giant portrait of himself, his mother, and his father.

But he refused to allow it for himself.

Her captain despised cowards like Bruce Wayne. Normally, Luffy wouldn’t hold his tongue for anything.

Except…

It had to be Tim’s choice.

Like Nami and Arlong, like Sanji and the Vinsmokes, like Robin and Enies Lobby, like every single one of them…

Tim had to say he wanted Luffy’s help, and he hadn’t said it.

No, their intelligence officer was determined to handle this on his own with their support. He trusted them that they wouldn’t step in unless he asked for it.

So, Tim made their escape plans if it came down to it. He showed them movies and TV shows, which were quite entertaining. It was amazing how different his world was. It made his adjustment to theirs all the more surprising. Robin knew she could have recovered if the situation were reversed, but she doesn’t think she could have done it half as well as Tim had done. Robin had to appreciate the adjustment that he had to make, which he did make for them.

She loved him as she loved all of her crew, but her heart felt full of love for Tim in particular in that moment.

She slipped her hand into his free arm.

He looked at her, blue eyes glittering in the late afternoon sun.

“I am very glad you’re here,” she said sincerely. “I am very glad to know you.”

His eyes softened at that, and there was less stress in them. Tim had been far too stressed in the past couple of days. She wanted him to relax, more than anything.

“Same here,” he said. “You’re the best Robin I know.”

She smiled as they stopped in front of the plot.

Janet Drake, Jackson Drake, Catherine Todd, Mary Grayson, John Grayson…

The parents of those who would become Bruce Wayne’s children, of those who would try to be heroes and wear the name of Robin. Did they expect to end up in such a pristine place in death, she wondered? Did they expect this of their children?

Tim squeezed her hand before slipping his arm free. His shoulders were squared, and his face was a perfect blank mask. That, he did when he didn’t want to feel. Robin merely watched. She was here for comfort and to witness.

He put the two bouquets in front of the headstones.

“Mom,” he greeted. “Dad.”

She wondered about the history behind those words. Robin always wondered about what made her nakama tick. There was a history in their gestures and choices that they made in interacting with the world. They had a history all their own, albeit a living one. Why did Sanji touch the hilt of his knife to the edge of the counter before using it? Why did Brook tune his violin in what seemed to be an out-of-order pattern? Why did Nami bite her canine into her thumb, where she was truly lost in thought?

There is history behind the actions of people, especially the people we love. Slowly, Robin has been learning these meanings. These oh so precious stories that need to be told.

Tim, for example, didn’t talk to his parents’ headstones after he had greeted them. He just stared at them for a long while, looking thoughtful. It wasn’t prayer. He wasn’t the type for it, but it was some sort of communion within himself. He then looked up at the sky and nodded as if to himself.

“Alright,” he said. He turned on his heel to look at her.

“Did you get what you needed?” she asked, echoing a question he had asked her once.

(After Imu and everything surrounding that had been dealt with, the One Piece had been found, Luffy was King of the Pirates, the world had been reborn anew from the ashes of the old; they took her back to Ohara. So that she may say goodbye to her ghosts. She had walked through the ruins that had been her childhood home and, with her living loved ones, gathered the bones of her people to put them to rest.

They had chosen cremation for this purpose.

All Robin could remember was the sweet sound of birdsong and the sound of rustling pages of the few books that they could salvage, which had somehow survived it all. That would allow Ohara to live on within the world and not just through her or through Saul’s efforts back in Elbaf.

Luffy had taken the ashes and transformed into Gear 5, somber as he’d ever been in the form. His red eyes were serious as he promised that they would see the world before jumping into the air and spreading the ashes around, far and wide. Her people could be part of everything, know everything, see everything.

The Drums of Liberation had freed her from that final chain of that endless pool of grief.

Franky, Tim, and Usopp had crafted a memorial stone, right where any boat would try to dock. Nami had planted saplings of her tangerine trees around it. Zoro and Sanji laid stones for a path. Chopper, Brook, and Jinbe had collected little things to lay in offering for all who had died there. It was small and humble and beautiful to her eyes.

She remembered how they would check in on her. How her loves, Franky and Jinbe, would kiss the top of her head or hold her close in the rare instances of public romantic affection that they would allow. But she needed it as they made something.

A little memorial garden, something new and lovely, something that represented the best in her people, made by the hands of those who loved her. The scar on her heart had throbbed, but it made her happy that she was alive.

As they sailed away, Tim had stood next to her and asked the same question.

“Did you get what you needed?”

“Yes,” she had answered without hesitation. Her people had been laid to rest, freed by the man who freed her. There was a memorial there made by the hands of people who knew her and who decided knowing her was enough for them to mourn Ohara alongside her. People would know what this place was.

What it meant.

Now she looked at Tim, having asked the same question.)

“I’m not sure if what I needed was coming from my parents,” he admitted. “But I wanted to see them one last time. I’m not sure if I will again then.”

That was fair. Robin wasn’t sure if she was ever going to see Ohara again or if she’d want to. Sometimes, you just needed to say goodbye, close a book. Sometimes, some people just needed to move on. People who didn’t, who sat with that grief without trying to move past it, incorporated it into their lives; they became her at her lowest.

They became like Bruce Wayne, heart so hardened to love out of fear of it that it was a prison of his own making. Robin wondered if he realized the kind of cage that he made for himself to keep out all of the little birds that tried so desperately to flock to him.

She tucked her hand into his arm again because Tim liked contact but wasn’t good at asking for her. He smiled at her as if saying I see what you’re doing.

“Thank you for coming with me.”

“Of course,” she said as they walked out together. “Whatever you need.”

He was part of her precious people; there wasn’t anything in the world that Robin wouldn’t do for them.

“Oh,” Dick said as he saw the huge fish person in the hallway outside of his room. “Jinbe, right?”

“Yes!” he said with a very toothy smile and a bow. “I apologize for bothering you, but Tim said you would know a good place for me to meditate?”

Right, right, Tim said he wanted to go and visit his parents’ graves. He wasn’t here at the moment.

“Yeah,” he smiled up at him. “No worries. I can show you a good spot.”

“My deepest gratitude,” he said, stepping aside to make more room for Dick.

Dick hasn’t had a ton of one-on-one time with Tim’s crew, joining them to watch a couple of movies aside.

“So you’re the…”

“Helmsman,” Jinbe replied. “I was a bit of a latecomer to their journeys. But I am quite happy with how it all worked out.”

“Things happen when they should,” Dick said. “At least some of the time, my friend Raven says that free will and destiny are more alike than we think.”

“What an intriguing thought.”

They walked in silence for a few moments.

And, well, Dick had to know. He had to be sure.

The question came out before he could overthink it, “Tim is happy, right?”

He looked up and up into Jinbe’s eyes.

The fish-man looked him over, but Dick needed to know. He needed to make sure. Because Tim would never just outright say such a thing if asked directly. Or, well, he wouldn’t. Maybe this new and mature version of Tim would, but Dick would always wonder.

And something seemed to soften.

“Tim is very happy,” he promised. “And we are happy to have him in our lives. Perhaps, one day you can sail our seas and experience it for yourself.”

Dick tried to imagine it, standing under another world’s sun and an endless blue above and below. He tried to imagine the wind in Tim’s hair and the smirk on his face.

Maybe he would see it one day. They knew where he was. There were ways to travel between dimensions, and Dick was lucky to have a lot of friends.

Someone in this family deserved a happy retirement.

“I’d like that,” he said sincerely.

“Perhaps you can join me in my meditation,” Jinbe offered.

And, yeah, Dick liked that idea as well.

Sanji never considered himself a truly paranoid person: cautious, maybe. But he never considered himself to be someone who looked over his shoulder all the time and kept guessing at the motives of others.

(Even if he summoned said others in the first place, but he was having his own separate issues involving Bruce Wayne.)

However, he was starting to get really sick of feeling like he was being watched all the damn time in the Manor.

Their room, far as Sanji knew, was safe to talk freely in, but even that had to be checked over. Before Tim had left with Robin, he had done a sweep with Franky and Usopp. They had all declared it clear before breaking off to do their own tasks.

Robin-chan had been asked to accompany their intelligence officer, who seemed happier after a day out with his older brother. While Jinbe went to find a spot to meditate, Usopp, Brook, and Chopper wanted to check out the Manor’s expansive and pristine gardens. Nami-swan had taken Franky off to check on a “project” that was in the works.

Though judging by the look tossed at Tim and Robin, he was willing to guess it was their escape plan. He couldn’t wait to ditch this place. Out of respect for Alfred and, like, the family members of Tim, he actually liked, they wouldn’t blow it up.

But now he was starting to understand why his friend waited for the day when his father toed the line enough to justify him starting a coup in Germa Kingdom and installing his sister on the throne.

Still, the room had been declared safe to talk, and the majority of the crew was off doing their own things.

Leaving Sanji, Mosshead, and Luffy alone to really talk for the first time in a while.

“I think we need to convince Tim to leave,” the cook said, because he had been holding it for a while. “If not Gotham, then the Manor. It’s not…”

He’d say normal, but, well, they didn’t have room to talk.

Healthy was probably the word that he wanted. This place gave him the worst sort of case of the creeps, even worse than Thriller Bark. Though having spent time in Gotham on quote-unquote Good days, he could see why Tim was downright nostalgic during their time in that area.

Mosshead sighed, which meant he agreed with Sanji. But it also meant But…

“He’s not gonna go yet,” the swordsman said.

“He would if we asked.”

A single eyebrow ticked up and looked at Sanji seriously, “Did you?”

Okay. That was maybe a low blow in Sanji’s estimation, but the fucker wasn’t wrong. He wouldn’t have. He didn’t. Luffy came to get him, and he still fought his Captain. No one in this crew would leave a bad situation until they were ready and willing to leave it.

The cook flushed and lit a cigarette, “Shut the fuck up, Marimo.”

He turned his eye to his captain instead, hoping to divine his thoughts on the subject.

Luffy’s foot jiggled from where he lay on the floor, hat over his eyes.

“Tim is handling it,” the captain said. “Tim is strong, and I trust him to know when he can’t be strong anymore.”

Yeah, Sanji was afraid he was going to say that. He sighed and shared a look with Mosshead.

Luffy pushed back his straw hat to look at both of his Wings, every inch the Pirate King.

“Tim needs to make the choice for himself and no one else,” he said firmly.

Mosshead nodded as if he expected this.

But Sanji felt a twist of worry in his gut, thinking of how sad Alfred had looked yesterday as he confessed his sins to him in the sanctity of the kitchen. He hated how Tim kept an eye on Bruce when he graced them with his presence, looking for bugs in their room, making sure their searched belongings were treated correctly.

He didn’t deserve that.

And when it blew up. It was going to be bad.

Who would be picking up the pieces? Them. Same as they did when Tim first came into their lives. Not that Sanji is saying that in a bad way, but because he loved his crew member and didn’t want to see him hurt for dumb reasons.

But Sanji knew he couldn’t protect him from that oncoming pain, only brace for impact best he could.

Chapter Text

Three Years Ago

“So you think you can do something with it?” Tim asked from where he was sitting on Franky’s worktable. He was swinging a leg back and forth casually, but his eyes were bright and sharp. He only got that when he knew the answer, but wanted the cyborg to confirm it anyway.

Normally, Franky would make him clear off and no sitting on his worktable, but the intelligence officer had brought him something interesting. He could do something with the Vegapunk tech that he studied, and it just looked so, so SUPER.

He felt his mouth tug up in a smile as he leaned down to take a look at Tim’s theories and suggestions in his neat chicken scratch on the design.

“Where did you come up with the idea?”

“The Sunny flying,” Tim said as Franky puffed out his chest, pleased. “And there was a movie back in my world. Don’t look at me like that. It’s not my fault that the entertainment industry in this world is patchwork at best. Do you want me to cry over how fucked the technological timeline is, Franky? I will. I lost all sense of shame.”

Oh boy, yeah, he’s not sitting through that talk again. Tim was a pretty chill guy until you got him talking about the technological differences between where he’s from and where he’s at now. According to Usopp, Tim had to go scream in the Merry’s hull the first time he saw a transponder snail. There was a reason he was told to build a soundproof closet into the plans of the ship.

Which was fair. When he saw what Tim could do with the computers on Punk Hazard, it was like watching a master at work. But they didn’t have that internet thing that Tim mentioned, and computers were fairly rare. So, the shipwright never saw the need to offer to build Tim one, and Tim never asked for it.

But this?

This Franky could do.

“And you rode something similar back home?”

“Yep,” Tim said cheerfully and nostalgically. “Well, it was a skateboard. But why not go big? It’s hoverboard time.”

Well, hey, if he could give his crewmate something that reminded him of the good parts of home? Then the cyborg was more than happy to deliver on it.

“Hell yeah,” Franky said with a manic grin. “We could do something SUPER with that idea. Any particular reason why you brought it up now, bro? We could have done this…”

Before Sabaody, at least.

The intelligence officer shrugged.

“I figure aerial support would be better in battle.”

Tim’s Observation Haki was way more advanced than most of the crew’s, maybe even including the Captain. But that’s what Tim was built for as a teenage vigilante or whatever. Franky knew that when he saw the kid in Enies Lobby and freeing slaves at Sabaody (disarming the bomb collars as if they were nothing). The sheer amount of passive information he got was hella helpful in clutch moments at Fish-Man Island and Punk Hazard. And that’s with his view obstructed and ground level.

Now, what could Tim do in Dressrosa with something that allowed him to get an unobstructed view?

Franky couldn’t wait to see.

“Wanna help me start fabricating?”

Tim grinned, wide and pleased.

“Let me get Usopp on it, too.”

Oh, now he was amped. It was always fun when the Inventor Trio got together to make something as a group. Sure, they had to be dragged out of the lab by Sanji come dinnertime because the chef had a rule about everyone having one meal together. And that involved more kicking from the chef than the slaphappy builders, but it was always a fun time.

Franky grinned at Tim, who smiled back.

“Go get Usopp. Tell him to bring some of his breath dial things. I want to experiment.”

And Tim was off like a shot. Or, well, moving quickly for an excited Tim.

Oh yeah, it was going to be a great day.

 Five Years Ago

Tim may have ditched most of the Red Robin costume, but he did keep the wrist computer. Maybe it was a desire to have something familiar, or maybe it was an instinct in him that said there was more advanced tech hiding somewhere in this world. However, on Sabaody, there was a choice that had to be made: destroying the Human Auctioning House and giving the slaves a chance for escape in the chaos or trying to see if his wrist computer could connect with and/or crack a Pacifista’s code.

Tim knew what he could sleep with on his conscience. And he knew what one his captain would have preferred he did as well.

(Funny, except not really, how Luffy felt more like his than Bruce did toward the end. Even as he desperately wished it was different.)

The Human Auctioning House was in absolute smithereens, and the slaves were running into the woods, free of their bomb collars. After the ones he had to deal with in Gotham? Tim tore those easily and efficiently. Still, those in bondage were running as if their lives depended on their safe escape.

And it did.

He may have killed some people who were still in there. Fuck, maybe the World Noble that Luffy hit was dead. Tim didn’t really care to check on him. Mainly because if he had to see that face, then he would have grabbed a bomb collar, locked it on, and see how that fucker liked it.

So he could be dead.

That was a comforting thought. Even if it felt like he severed something in him about being a hero, even as a pirate. But, well, there was no time to work through that.

No.

He was cornered.

Tim looked up as Batholomew Kuma loomed over him, his holy book in hand. Sometimes, he hated how fast his mind worked because everything felt slow and in stark relief in that moment. He could hear the wind. He could hear the hitch of Robin’s breath.

Were they the only two left of the crew? He couldn’t make himself look.

“Tim!” he heard Luffy scream.

For as long as Tim lived that scream would chase him in his nightmares along with the memory of his father’s corpse and the Red Hood looming over his broken body in Titans Tower. It sounded like Luffy’s soul was being torn asunder, watching them all disappear one after another after another, unable to stop what was happening. Maybe he could have stopped this.

But that was a big maybe.

(Kuma could be killing them, but he is not.

What is your plan? Why send us away?)

“Luffy,” Tim said, keeping his eyes on the hulking figure and the paw pad hands. He could hear Luffy’s footfalls and practically see the expression on his face. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about us. We’ll see you soon.”

Was he this calm as he choked to death on his own blood in the desert, he wondered? He remembered the sheer desperation in the air because he had his proof of Bruce’s survival. But his team was dead and he was dying and he…it…

There was no thinking his way out of this.

Sometimes, you had to admit when you were outclassed.

So, well, damage control it was.

He turned to look at Luffy. The former hero wasn’t a crier, but he could feel the tears gather in his eyes. His captain looked so, so scared.

Tim smiled. His fear didn’t matter in this moment. Nothing mattered except his Captain, and they needed to survive this. They needed to get stronger. There was no way they would survive what lay beyond Paradise otherwise.

Tim had plans to live and die in his head in those moments, but he held himself together.

Because he needed Luffy to see him happy as he said this.

“Captain,” he said with the best, most genuine, and brightest smile he could muster. “King of Pirates, Monkey D. Luffy, thank you for loving me.”

And then he was being pushed out into the open air by Kuma’s Devil Fruit powers.

He hoped Luffy got the message.

His face looked so heartbroken as Tim disappeared.

They’ll see each other soon.

(He didn’t know how horribly echoed it would be at Marineford.

Not until much, much later.)

During the Straw Hat’s Separation

“You were adopted, too, right?” Marco asked as he looked at his…protégé? Student? He wasn’t quite sure what to call Tim. But he was teaching the kid how to use Haki and maybe get his head on straight, so the grief didn’t weigh so heavily on his heart.

And he did want to get to know him better. Things were still so new in his mentorship, and it was good for him. Marco thrived when he had someone to help grow and teach. And the former Whitebeard commander was starved for…

(Pops, Ace, Thatch, his family…

Marco often went to sleep cursing the name Blackbeard, of Marshall D. Teach. He was a pirate, and pirates were a superstitious lot. With how many of his siblings, with how Whitebeard, with how Ace went…Teach had to have been cursed at this point.

Marco wasn’t a praying man, but he still prayed all the same that one of those curses had stuck. That one of them gave someone, anyone enough of an advantage to take that cowardly, spineless fuck out for good.)

He used to be better at that, but it was easier to connect with a brother than a random kid that you found at your father’s grave, offering his condolences with far too knowing eyes.

Tim looked up from where he was by the campfire. He was writing something out, and one of his messenger birds sat nearby.

“Yeah,” he said. “Though I tried to avoid it.”

Now that was a story that Marco was familiar with. Some of his siblings had been hurt before, and it took Pops' consistent and unerring devotion to them, wanting them to be part of their family, for them to stop avoiding it. 

“How did you do that?” he asked. Was it like how Ace tried to keep killing Pops? Simone would make herself a nuisance by hiding in unexpected places. Storm would try to hex them all, even if magic wasn’t really a Thing.

“Hired an actor to pretend to be my uncle after my parents died,” Tim said, tying the message to the bird and giving it a whistle. It took off into the evening sky.

Um.

Huh.

Marco had to admit he felt like he stepped in it a bit.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Tim said, frowning down at another note. The kid was really working at building that information network of his whenever they were on their off time for training. He paused and blew out a breath. “It was a few years ago for my Mom, less time for my Dad. I’m not…I have complicated feelings with them and them both being murdered doesn’t help in figuring out my feelings about them. I think. I love them, but I don’t like the choices they made in raising me. But I still love them.”

Yeesh.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t an uncommon story amongst the Whitebeard crew. There was always that sort of complicated history of loving people but also hating the choices they made, especially when the child had no say in the matter.

“You sure about that?”

Love wasn’t an obligation, he believed; it couldn’t be.

Love was and always will be a choice. You choose it time and time again. And it should be an easy choice to love someone, even if it feels like making that choice was hard; it should be easy. Even if it’s deep, deep down.

“Fairly certain,” Tim said. He looked up at Marco. “Some people just weren’t meant to be parents.”

Ah. This was a minefield, but he was the one who walked into it.

“And you’re adopted father?”

“That’s a loaded question,” his student landed on. He tossed the paper he was reading into the fire. “You sure you want me to talk about B?”

Well, that sounded like even more of a minefield than what he was already in. But he was curious. More importantly, Marco wanted him to go out with as clear of a head as possible. Otherwise, the New World would eat Tim alive. It was an endurance test of body, mind, and spirit.

All of them needed to be strong, not just one.

“Only if you want to,” Marco said. “I’m just curious-yoi.”

Tim leaned back and looked up at the stars that were beginning to show in the night sky. He considered them for a long moment.

“B’s son died,” he said. “He was murdered. And he loved Jason. I think…I like to think that before his death, Bruce was on a good path. Maybe even willing to really heal in him what was broken. But it was a fragile, delicate thing. Losing Jason, I think, shattered that hope.”

(Tim would later tell Marco the truth of where he had come from. The things that he wasn’t saying in the slight, mostly true truths, he was speaking.

But it was still heartbreaking in a way that left Marco feeling bile at the back of his teeth.)

“He spiraled after, and I was the neighbor kid. I saw it, and no one was pulling him out of it. I didn’t know how to help, so I got in contact with his ward and asked him to come home. Dick, his name was Richard, but he went by Dick, said he couldn’t. He was grieving too, and he and B had this massive blowout after Jason died. So I…”

A kid tried to heal an adult.

That wasn’t how the world was supposed to work. But it was too often the case, and it was too fucking unfair. Not when they were as young as Marco believed Tim was.

“Sometimes I think he really did care about me,” his student said. “But he was scared to show it, you know? Because he lost a child, and the relationship with Dick was fraught. And both of his parents were murdered. And my girlfriend had faked her death at the behest of a family friend, and that was a whole other mess because B mentored her for a bit before firing her for insubordination.”

What the fuck kind of island did he come from? Was he a New World kid? He couldn’t be, though, but Marco would have heard about a place like this in any of the Blues.

“What the fuck kind of family did you get adopted into?”

Tim laughed at that.

“It was a fucking mess, so you could see why I tried to avoid it for as long as I could,” he said. “Plus B and I? We weren’t like that. We were a business relationship at best. It was transactional, and it worked well enough for me.”

Well, that’s a mess. One that Marco had no idea how to even begin to tackle, he had to admit. Sure, there were complicated interpersonal dynamics within the Whitebeard pirates at times, but no one faked their death over anything.

Though he did, suddenly, have a bit of sympathy for any and all bartenders who had to hear them complain about their siblings. They were definitely not paid enough to listen to this.

“Sounds rough?”

“I mean, it wasn’t great,” Tim shrugged. “But I was left to my own devices and got Alfred out of the deal. Though I wish I didn’t have to get that weird test thing on my sixteenth birthday. I used to have waaaaay more trust issues before I met Luffy and the others. And I think like a solid half of those trust issues stemmed from that test.”

“And the girlfriend faking her death thing?”

“I mean, it’s not an insignificant portion,” he said. “But I knew better than to ask B for an apology for it.”

And something in that made Marco’s heart break a little bit.

Pops was the World’s Strongest Man, you know?

But even he knew when to say sorry when one of his children asked for an apology. He knew when they needed to hear it. Whitebeard was their captain, but he was also their dad. The man knew when the father needed to apologize.

“He should have,” Marco said fiercely. “You know that, right? He fucked you over-yoi. He should have apologized after if he was really a man.”

Tim hesitated for a moment.

What the fuck, kid?

Who the fuck had hurt you like that?

(It was a good thing that Tim had Luffy. Whitebeard had offered to adopt him as well, whenever the kid made the journey out to sea. Ace had laughed and laughed at that, so long and loud tears streamed out of his eyes.

“Nah,” his brother said, once he caught his breath, grinning. “My little brother is going to build his own family. Just you wait, Old Man. He shares even worse than you do.”

And Whitebeard had thrown his head back and laughed.)

“I know,” Tim said quietly. “But it was all I knew at the time. But I know better now. The Straw Hats say sorry when I ask.”

“Good,” Marco nodded. “Now, why don’t you pick open an old scab of mine? I feel like that’s fair.”

His protégé snorted at that, but there was a looseness to his shoulders.

Maybe Marco could figure out this thing with Tim after all.

Eight Months Ago

“You’re an idiot,” Tim informed Zoro cheerfully as he stitched him up. Luffy laughed in the background so hard that it was kind of amazing he was still getting air in properly.

“No, I’m not.”

The intelligence officer merely raised an eyebrow. He was flipped off for his efforts.

Tim rolled his eyes as he continued to stitch up the gash on Zoro’s arm. He and Chopper usually carried basic first-aid kits on their persons out of habit. And the doctor trusted Tim’s first-aid training to do stitchwork if it was needed and he wasn’t there.

“The cook can never know about this.”

This being that Zoro got so lost, he walked off a cliff and hit nearly every branch on the way down. Tim and Luffy, who had been nearby bug hunting for fun (Luffy) and for scientific curiosity (Tim), saw the whole incident and came to check on him.

Once they had ascertained that Zoro was alright and hadn’t met the most ignoble way to die ever out of the crew, they proceeded to laugh (or, in Luffy’s case, were still laughing) before helping him. Or, well, the intelligence officer was helping the swordsman. Their captain was fighting a battle as to whether to keep laughing or succumb to the sweet embrace of oxygen deprivation.

Still, Sanji was going to make fun of Zoro forever for that sort of misstep. Right after, he yelled at him for being so careless and getting lost so easily.

“He’s going to see it eventually,” Tim said as he made sure to keep them nice and even. “Sooner or later, you two are going to have hate sex again. And he’s going to see it and then he’s going to ask.”

He got leered at for his trouble.

“Jealous?”

Now, it was Zoro’s turn to get flipped off.

“No one could pay me enough berri in a million years to be jealous of whatever is going on with you two.”

The green-haired man lifted his eyebrows in what could be described as a waggle.

“So, things are still going well with Law, then, huh?”

Tim levelled him a deeply unimpressed look.

Zoro laughed and rested his head against his shoulder.

“Lucky, I have a hard head, huh?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s something in the water that affects bone density or our healing rate,” he said, finishing the last stitch and wrapping it in gauze. “And the food.”

Luffy and Zoro both stared at him.

He stared back.

“Is the food okay?” demanded Luffy.

“Well, it hasn’t killed you yet,” Tim said. “People can live into their hundreds, there are giant monsters that we eat on the regular, and who the fuck knows what other kind of shit was being experimented on before the world flooded. Of course, it’s in the fucking water. Once gets in there, it gets into the water cycle, and then it gets into the food.”

“What’s the water cycle?” Zoro asked.

The blue-eyed man stared at them both in despair and got up, pulling out his homemade walkie-talkie from his pants.

“Sanji? Sanji, you won’t believe what Zoro did.”

“HEY!”

Five Years Ago

“We need a plan,” Robin said after Enies Lobby. She said it casually as if talking about emergency funds or something.  “A safety net in case of emergencies.”

Tim looked up from where he was reading. They all had been hovering in their own ways after her return to them. She was willing to submit to the hover, maybe even revel in it a bit. It had been a long time since Robin was fussed over.

It was nice. To be taken care of in such a way.

Their ship was still being built, and the others had disappeared into Water 7 for the day. Robin, however, thought a day in the, recently repaired, hospitality cabin sounded lovely. Tim stayed with her, citing that he also wanted a quiet day in. He promised Sanji that they would spend the day together.

More importantly, however, it gave them a chance to be alone to talk.

He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully.

Come on, Tim. Please don’t make her say it out loud. They needed to be discreet with this. The Navy was here only a few days ago. There was no guarantee that this was safe, that someone wasn’t listening in.

She saw the light of understanding in his eyes.

“And you want me to handle it?”

It would be hard to teach anyone how to read the poneglyphs. But if anyone on the crew could, then she had the best chance of teaching him.

“I think it’s the best fit for it,” she said. “As a just-in-case measure for the pair of us.”

It was risky, she knew, to ask him to keep a secret from even the Captain. As she could attest, reading the poneglyphs put a target on your back if the knowledge was public and common. Two can keep a secret and still live, she believed.

These people made her believe that.

“It makes the most sense,” he said. “Some of the others have their own contingencies. When would you like to discuss further?”

Something in her unclenched.

“I believe once we are back on the ship,” she said, picking up a book from the table. “There is no rush.”

At the moment, anyway. Tim nodded.

But he started to trace the table with his finger, and she watched.

T-H-A-N-K-S

She smiled at him and relaxed her shoulders.

Robin always did feel better when she had contingencies in place.

Having two on the crew who could read poneglyphs would help, she knew. Especially if the only people who knew that fact were her and him.

Chapter Text

The most prevalent mineral composition that Bruce noticed in the scrapings that he took from Tim’s secondary bo staff was a higher-than-normal concentration of salt and sand. Almost like it came from the ocean itself. He checked his notes about what little he did know of the weaknesses of the pirate crew in his home.

Other observations revealed that it was incredibly strong as well. If not for Bruce’s own specialized tools, then it would have been harder to get the sample. So, it had to have been native to the world that the pirates hailed from. Tim wouldn’t make an entire staff out of such a substance if it wasn’t important.

Once again, having a lack of information allowed him to make a connection a lot quicker than he would with an abundance of it. Along with the knowledge of Tim’s own thought processes and preparedness as well.

It had to be a counter for opponents with abilities.

The weakness of these quote unquote “Devil Fruit” users directly tied into water, didn’t they? Nico said so herself during that breakfast where she declared that Tim was theirs. They needed someone in the bath with them to make sure they weren’t too adversely affected. It was particularly potent in ocean water from what he gathered during that informative talk.

Always so bold when his opponents gave him the answers to their defeat on a platter. Unless they had something else in the wings. They had Tim and Tim knew much of his thought processes, maybe even more so.

Still, these scraping could be very usual in making his own weapons. And, if Tim did go back with the pirates, he had a way to get them. He didn’t used the small, slim multidimensional travel device that Kyle Rainer and Cisco Ramon had collaborated on and given to the founding members of the Justice League. No one used it. Heroes were too concerned with their own world, no one much cared about visiting other dimensions.

Bruce did now. He had been examining the device and making sure it was calibrated.

But then the testing for the stone came in and distracted him.

Perhaps, he could figure out how to synthesize it. It wouldn’t be as potent, but, given with the other synthesized materials he’s made in the past, it should be enough to give him the edge. Should things go south or the pirates in his own make a wrong move, then this material could be used for quick and decisive control, much like Kryptonite incase Clark got mind-controlled again.

“Bruce?”

Bruce casually minimized the screen he was looking at on the Batcomputer before turning to look at Dick. His ward had just come back from patrol, hair messily windswept, and a sheen of sweat on his brow. He looked healthy, but tired so the end of patrol must have picked up for him.

He eyed him and then asked.

“Busy?”

“Dueling bar crowds right at the end,” Dick sighed dramatically, playing it up due to lack of physical injury. He was using the removal solution for the spirit gum. “I hate dealing with belligerent drunks. “

Bruce hummed. Belligerent drunks were a nusiance, but it meant a quiet night all around. Most were focusing on old cases that the GCPD had asked them to look into. The pirates didn’t seem interest in venturing out of the Manor after dark. Though from conversations he caught over the comms between Dick and Stephanie, it was more out of not wanting to run into a Rogue than anything else.

And also, they were quite taken with movies.

“Anything else to report?”

“Nope,” Dick said, having learned his lesson about using the ‘q’ word long ago. Bruce himself didn’t ascribe to such superstitions, but it made others feel better to avoid saying that ‘q’ word out loud.

Though given a relatively recent Arkham breakout (and successful recapturing of the escapees), maybe it wasn’t much of a surprise that things have been going smoothly. At least in terms of patrol and case closures (and ignoring whatever Red Hood had been doing in Crime Alley as they and the police have been stonewalled out of there). It allowed Bruce to focus on the threat from within the house, which he was deeply grateful for.

He needed to save his sons. Jason was a work in progress, but he was, at least, willing to be cordial when they worked together. And was willing to use rubber bullets more and real ones less.

Tim, however…

Apparently, his eldest sensed where Bruce’s thoughts were heading. It was a long held habit of their first partnership that never ended into their meeting as relative equals.

“Are you going to keep avoiding Tim?” Dick asked, resting his hip against the edge of the Batcomputer’s desk. “I noticed you and Damian weren’t at dinner tonight. Again.”

“Given how disastrously the previous dinner that I attended went, I figured it was safer to dine with Damian in my study.”

It was a relatively silent dinner between them. Bruce still had no clue how to connect with Damian after everything that had happened between them. His youngest had a Batman and it wasn’t Bruce. During the meal, Damian looked thoughtful throughout most of it, but Bruce didn’t want to pry. He wasn’t a chatty kid like Dick or Jason was when they were his age.

Dick drummed his fingers on the corner of his elbow thoughtfully. It was a habit that meant he had information and was debating on if sharing it with Bruce was a good idea or not.

“Tim said Zoro would give his sword back to Damian,” he said. “Damian’s grounded from his sword for the time being, however.”

The elder vigilante didn’t wince upon hearing Roronoa’s name, but it was a near thing. Though Dick had known him for a long, long time so he was given a Look at that. Just as Bruce could read him well as anything, the same went for his first sidekick.

“You need to get over this,” he said. “Whatever issue you’re having with Tim, just talk to him about it, Bruce.”

Of course, Dick would immediately be on Tim’s side. He tried to overcompensate his own feelings of guilt toward Jason with Tim. He’d want the issue handled in a quick and decisive manner in order to have his brother back.

Until he left again, back to this new world of his, and broke Dick’s heart in the process all over again. And who will handle cleaning that mess up?

“Tim lies,” he said, rather than saying what he was actually thinking. His third son had a proven track record of lying and was good enough to even fool Bruce himself. Tim knew how to misdirect and obfuscate like a pro. Maybe he was a pro back in his new world.

“We all do,” Dick said crossing his arms. “Or we lie by omission. You, in particular, have a habit of holding things far too close to the vest.”

Because knowledge can get people killed or tortured. Better for it to be centralized lest all of his children become targets.

“Hn,” he said instead.

Dick looked frustrated verging on anger. Like he was ready to cuss him out as he had during his later teenage years and those first few years as his own vigilante. However, he shut his eyes instead and breathed him.

His ward opened his eyes and breathed out forcefully, “It’s been five years for him, B.”

And that was the point, wasn’t it? Six months for them. Five years for Tim. That amount of time at that young of age meant they were dealing with a whole new person.

“Exactly,” Bruce said. “We don’t know who Tim is now. We don’t really know what happened in the other world.”

The statement, for some reason, seemed to be enough to snap his ward’s thin patience.

“You would if you talked to him instead of trying to figure out if he’s a criminal, Bruce. I talked to him and he told me stories of his time there. More importantly, he’s happier and healthier than has been in years,” Dick snapped. “For fuck’s sakes, you’re supposed to be smart. You’re expecting Tim to go on a rampage or something with his crew. All they’ve been doing is marathoning a very weird and wild list of movies and upping our grocery budget by fifty percent.”

Sometimes, Bruce felt as if it was the world going crazy.

“They’re pirates.”

Pirates, criminals, presumably noble ones, but no one really knew. Tim knew how to lie. He could have figured out how to fool the Lasso of Truth. They were avoiding the bugs or only letting him hear what he wanted to hear. That meant that they were planning something.

And their power, he hasn’t had an adequate time to counteract it or figure out how to counteract it. If they told people in their world and they wanted to control a whole other universe…

He was trying to protect the world from what he created.

Dick, however, refused to see it. He threw up his hands in annoyance.

“So?! They saved the day. They’ve been good house guests. They have been on their best behavior for Tim’s sake. Are you mad that he isn’t staying? Are you punishing him for wanting to leave the life? Or are you mad that you can’t control him anymore, B? Jason’s still a crime lord, and, yeah, you still have a problem with that. But you and he can work together for brief periods of time. You’re not even doing that with Tim. God, Bruce, did you even say two words to him?! What are you so fucking afraid of?!”

Because Tim had the most of Bruce in him. He needed to be guarded and keep in control of himself. He had his rules and if he shattered one, then everything would shatter. He knew what he could do if he truly broke, and it scared Bruce what Tim could do without a moral compass or rules. And who knew what Tim had to do? What of Bruce’s rules he had to break in the name of a god-captain who laughed and smiled in the midst of the chaos of battle?

Was Luffy’s idea of fun in that world like the Joker? Freedom to do whatever he wanted sure, but at what cost to the world around him? All Bruce could think of was the world bending to rubber at his whim and him laughing, laughing, laughing with his crew laughing in time with him. Was he losing another of his son’s to someone who laughed while the world burned around him? He refused to take that chance. Because Tim could lie and manipulate and run circles around Bruce even before he had gained five years of experience.

“Tim is a grown man.”

“So?” Dick demanded. “Even grown men need their parents.”

“I barely had time to be his parent.”

Six months, they had six months together from the adoption. That Tim had fought against and lied to Bruce about with a fake uncle.

“Well maybe you could be now if you tried to get to know him or his crew,” Dick sounded…tired, not angery or frustrated. He sounded exhausted. “They love him, Bruce. And despite this sudden hard line on criminals...”

“We still send Mister Freeze to Arkham even if we feel sympathy for his plight,” Bruce said. “Harley and Ivy are on parole. They know if they step a toe out of line, then they go back in. We’ve always had a hard line on criminals.”

“And?!” Dick demanded. “What do you want to do? Lock them up for crimes that they had committed in another world that isn’t ours? They saved their world, Bruce!”

“We only have their word.”

He could hear the frustrated noise from his eldest’s throat. Dick hit his palm on the console’s desk.

“And it should count for something given that Tim isn’t prone to hyperbole on that scale!”

“If you weren’t so guilt-ridden, then you would see that I am right.”

They needed to protect the world and themselves; couldn’t he see that? Bruce was doing the right thing to keep them all safe. They needed to be wary.

“I am not!” Dick said. “I actually talked to Tim with my big boy words, Bruce. We had breakfast together. I spent time with his crew. They aren’t evil people. They don’t want to rule anything or take over the world. They just want to go home and sail the seas. They’re a romantic ideal of pirates, not the horrible criminals you’re thinking of. They just want to live, and they do so without regrets.”

There was something like wistfulness in his voice.

Like that was something to be admired.

He thought Dick had grown past naivete, but it was always hard for him with family. It clouded his mind, made him soft in ways that they couldn’t afford to be. It was the tragedies that made you, after all.

They forged you into steel and made you strong enough to weather anything. They meant more in the long term; otherwise, the scars wouldn’t hurt so much when you gained them.

“Please. Just talk with him,” Dick begged.

Bruce didn’t say anything. What could he? He could see that his eldest had similarly been lost to him. He would have no ally for him in this fight.

“Yeah,” he said, even more exhausted. “Yeah, okay. Goodnight, B.”

“Hn.”

Bruce had work to do, a dimensional transporter to calibrate, and an unknown compound to synthesize.

“You really didn’t have to do this, Alfred,” Sanji said with a smile on his face. He was seated at a stool in the kitchen with a perfectly prepared cup of tea in front of him. Out of respect for the butler, his cigarette remained unlit in his mouth. “I could have made something for the crew. I know how much you have to cook for them after all.”

After the talk that they had the other day, Alfred was going to insist on repaying his new friend’s kindness. The talk had done wonders for him, he felt. Perhaps, things would work out in the end. Sometimes, you needed to express yourself fully in order to feel better about the world.

He must find a new therapist, Alfred decided. He had fallen off after Master Richard went to college, but things got so busy and so hard. He never felt like any time was the right time to return.

Perhaps, there is no correct time. You must just return, even when it is hard. Especially then.

The way Master Tim smiled at him when he came in for a cup of coffee in the morning felt a little more real and a little less like it would drown Alfred in guilt. It definitely steeled his resolve to find a therapist outside of Gotham.

Perhaps he will never be able to reconcile his conflicting emotions, but he will do what he can and be there for the children.

“Nonsense,” he said, fixing his cuffs. “You should rest as well, Master Sanji. I gather that you work quite hard at your job.”

Given how much their grocery budget had ballooned due to Captain Luffy’s healthy appetite, Alfred could only guess at the enormity of the cook’s regular duties aboard his vessel. While their manners were something to be desired, it was nice to hear the dining room full of lively chatter and happiness.

Joy.

He had grown so used to the quiet that seemed to make this house a tomb to Mr. and Mrs. Wayne and then to Master Jason that he had forgotten what unrestrained happiness sounded like in these halls.

The blonde man laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, “Well, we never have to worry about wasted food on that ship, I can tell you that much.”

It was something that Alfred had noticed, of course. It was an old habit left over from his life before butlering, and one that had served him well in his chosen career. None of the Straw Hats left a crumb uneaten. Master Tim, who often had a smaller appetite, also followed the trend, cleaning his plate when before he would leave a few bites left.

Sanji, Alfred believed, knew what it was like to be truly hungry, truly without.

Master Jason was the same way. It was why Alfred had given him a lockbox full of nonperishable goods with the key and merely asked him not to squirrel away food that could rot in his room.

His dear boy had been avoiding the Manor, given their guests. But he did confirm to be coming by for tea tomorrow, so they could visit and catch up. Master Bruce had to have known, but allowed Alfred the connection to the children that he helped raise. It was a curious sort of paradox of Master Bruce’s mind.

“It must be a testament to your skill,” he said to Sanji, who chuckled.

“The man who raised me taught me everything I know. He runs a restaurant back in the East Blue. I hope that crochety old bastard is doing alright.”

Alfred didn’t bother correcting the pirates’ language, if only because he could tell that it would go unheeded and, more importantly, they were grown adults. He knew when the battle had been well and truly lost.

“You sure you don’t want to join us?” Sanji grinned. “Tim is showing us something called Star Wars and has refused to let us look it up.”

Oh.

They are from another world, so they don’t know the twist.

How delightful. It was a pity that he was running comms for part of the night as a favor to Miss Barbara, who was running an event at the library for a few hours that evening.

“I am indisposed for part of the evening, but please tell Master Tim to reach out to me when you get to That Part.”

Sanji’s eyebrow furrowed, “That Part?”

“I shan’t dare spoil it for you, but I would wish to see your reactions to it.”

The blonde laughed, “I’ll tell Tim to let you know then.”

Sanji was adding more napkins to the cart, effortlessly moving around Alfred’s kitchen to make sure his crew had everything they needed. It was an act that had warmed his heart to see the care between those people.

When Master Jason was Robin, Alfred had hoped that perhaps they could have something like that here. But it seemed like grief was too entrenched in this place. He shuddered to think of what Mr. and Mrs. Wayne would think of how dark everything had become in light of their deaths, of how Master Bruce had turned out. Alfred had tried, but his efforts had been for naught.

He should have done more. But how do you parent your employer?

“Thank you,” Alfred said to Master Sanji.

The man blinked and paused in his arrangements.

“Master Tim was in a bad place when he disappeared. And perhaps, we saw a bit of a light, a path of reconciliation, but…”

But he disappeared. But Master Bruce devolved further into grief and paranoia as a result, rather than anger. The fact that Master Tim was alive, just lost in the multiverse, was a cold comfort to Master Bruce. He didn’t devolve as badly as he did after Master Jason’s death. However, the more often trips away from Gotham were taken, even if Alfred didn’t agree. He was still Master Damian’s father, after all.

“It didn’t happen then,” Sanji said around the unlit cigarette in his mouth. “It’s happening now.”

“It does my old heart glad to see it.”

And it did, honestly and truly. Even if his old heart had guilt at what he could not do for them.

“They put a lot on us,” the younger man said. “It’s a lot on you.”

“Nothing that I cannot bear,” Alfred said. “I love them all dearly.”

“I can tell.”

Of course, he could. Sanji was a caretaker as well. There was an understanding between such people.

“Tim said that because our universes have touched, there shouldn’t be a major time differential now,” the cook said. “He’s trying to figure out a way to come visit.”

The technology was there, Alfred knew. And if anyone could reverse engineer it to his liking, then it was Master Tim. Or, if he could find a rather interesting device that Master Bruce had squirreled away in the Batcave prior to his jaunt through the time stream? Well, it was just gathering dust anyway.

Perhaps he should subtly remind Master Tim of its existence. Just because the younger man had an eidetic memory, it wasn’t like it was in movies and television.

“Perhaps you can come visit as well, Sanji. I want to try your Sea King.”

Sanji grinned, “Come and visit us on the Sunny, Alfred. I’ll cook you up a feast fit for a King.”

It was good that Master Tim found people who loved him, just as he did with Young Justice. It filled Alfred with hope that one of his children could leave this house and the curse that seemed to have wormed its way into the walls.

Tim showed his nakama that the original Star Wars trilogy was the best idea that he had ever had in his life. Of course, it’s because it’s a cultural milestone and a huge part of his childhood. But, really, he never described these movies to them when it was his turn to tell stories, because he had a small hope of actually showing them the thing.

It was the same reason why he didn’t describe The Hobbit or Treasure Island. Some things have to be experienced properly.

And, really, how many people have avoided something so culturally pervasive as “I am your father”? People born in alternate dimensions where the entertainment industry was patchwork at best, that’s what. So, Tim hacked all their phones, blocked Star Wars so no one could look up spoilers, and was now comfortably lounging on Usopp within the giant blanket fort they had made in their ballroom.

It was, as he had hoped, a big hit. They can never learn about the toxicity of the online communities, and Tim was lukewarm about the other trilogies at best. So, really, this was the exposure to it he was giving them: just pure childhood nostalgia, baby. He could hear Zoro and Franky whispering together about what it would take to get the swordsman a lightsaber.

Making Zoro more of a menace than he already was? That was a problem for future Tim. He would like a lightsaber, though.

But they were all getting into it. Tim could feel Usopp tense at all the right spots from where they were lying together. He even saw Robin put away her book and lean forward, interested. Brook had jumped into Sanji’s arms during one of the scarier parts, much to the chef’s annoyance. Nami was allowing Jinbe to put her shoulder-length hair in Princess Leia buns. Luffy and Chopper were sprawled out near Tim and Usopp, eyes wide in wonder at the screen.

He also had his phone at the ready to film their reactions for Bart, Kon, and Cassie, along with a text for Alfred so the butler could come and document the moment in his own way.

Tim grinned as Luke entered the battle with Vader and hit the button to text Alfred.

Oh, this was gonna be good.

(It was a good thing no one lived at Drake Manor anymore. Because the “HE’S HIS DAD?!” from the louder members of the Straw Hat Crew would have definitely been heard and the police probably would have been called for a noise complaint.)

Chapter Text

Five Years Ago

“I can get us out of this,” Tim said as he and Zoro ducked into an alley. For once, they were being chased for something genuinely not their fault. It was a novelty enough that this was definitely going to stick with the green-haired man for a while. Normally, they were being chased for something that was definitely their fault.

Or, well, usually, Luffy’s.

“Okay,” he agreed, curious. The kid was the most recent addition to their crew, but Luffy trusted him already. Tim had proved his usefulness a few times over already, but he played his abilities close to the vest. Zoro trusted his captain, even if he didn’t fully know what role a tactician played on a ship quite yet. Luffy seemed to do his own thing and expected the world to bend to his whims. So, what use would a tactician be?

He watched as Tim rubbed color into his cheeks, dirtied up his clothing, and pinched his thigh, bringing tears to his eyes.

Zoro raised an eyebrow because he knew that his crew member had a good pain tolerance.

“I conditioned myself to cry,” Tim said as if that explained everything. “Now, for the love of whatever passes for a god around here, act like I’m having a panic attack.”

And then, as their pursuers approached, his crewmate proceeded to lose his shit.

Zoro wasn’t really sure what a panic attack was, but it looked familiar enough. One of the kids at the dojo had some kind of thing that wasn’t really talked about. But he saw the start of, what he now assumed was a panic attack once before Sensei made them all leave the room, and it didn’t look like this.

Maybe that was the point, though, Tim heightening it up to throw the dumbasses chasing them off guard. And he was trusting the swordsman to play along.

Well, alright then.

“Hey,” Zoro said softly. “It’s okay. Calm down.”

“IT’S NOT!” Tim yelled through stuttering breaths, making their pursuers pause. He hyperventilated more. “I-I-I can’t breathe!”

“Uh,” one of the men who was chasing them two minutes ago said.

Zoro turned with his harshest glare at them, making them step back.

There was no Marine presence on the island, just a very small town. One of the local kids, Zoro presumed because it seemed like something an asshole kid from a small island town would do, set off a firework and made a merchant knock over a cart of his wares. Tim and Zoro got blamed for it as the outsiders.

“Do you mind?” he snapped.

“I-I-It was s-so loud,” Tim stuttered. Tears ran down his face, and he shook all over. “J-Just like…”

Ah.

Now, Zoro knew he wasn’t the smartest member of the crew. But he could follow a train of thought well enough.

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly as he could. “You’re not there anymore.”

Tim whimpered and curled tighter into a ball. Damn, the kid was a good actor. He would give him that. And given how often they needed to lie, it wasn’t a bad skill to have.

The swordsman glared at their audience.

“What?”

One of the men looked flustered and suddenly very aware of the fact that they had just judged two strangers for no real reason. The other men also looked at each other in varying degrees of discomfort and awkwardness. Nothing made people more awkward than seeing someone as vulnerable as Tim was acting in that moment.

“Uh…nothing,” one of the men murmured. “Sorry.”

And they left the mouth of the alleyway.

“Tch,” Zoro turned back to Tim in the guise of calming him down.

“I could have just scared them,” he whispered to him after waiting a few moments to make sure they were gone. He was wiping his face with his shirt sleeves, seemingly uncaring of the tears that he had shed.

“Nami would have killed you,” his crewmate said. “And Sanji, he needed to stock up.”

“I could take the Witch and Swirly Brow,” Zoro scoffed before nodding. “That was pretty good.”

“Just showing what I can bring to the table,” he said. “You’re Luffy’s right-hand man, right?”

His blue eyes, bloodshot from the tears, looked up easily at him, and he shrugged.

“Luffy never outright said it. I’m just the swordsman.”

Though it was pretty much given that Zoro was the first mate, even if it was never said aloud. Tim hummed at that, looking thoughtful.

“Good.”

“Good?”

The younger man smirked at him almost conspiratorially. He seemed tired in that moment, but he always seemed tired. Zoro knew he had been getting up after the cook in the mornings and sitting with him. The only time he seemed to get real sleep was if Usopp or Luffy made him nap with them.

Even Swirly Brow and the witch had gotten in on it. Vivi seemed a bit more reluctant, but she was a princess. They probably had like rules or something. He’ll have to join to.

Who knew what he could do well rested?

“Never outright saying it, then people may think that they can get you to turn on them,” Tim said with a shrug. “And then you prove them wrong.”

Well damn. He wasn’t sure it was that deep, but maybe it was. He and Luffy didn’t really think such things needed to be said.

Zoro laughed at that.

“You’re a weird guy, you know that?”

Tim shrugged, “It’s kept me alive so far. Well, that and spite, I think.”

Yeah, he definitely got that as well.

“You wanna get a drink?” Zoro asked because, fuck, he liked the kid. While he preferred a more direct method, he did have an appreciation for those who had the patience to do subterfuge.

“I’m seventeen,” Tim said before pausing at the swordman’s confused look. A flash of realization passed over his face. “Oh yeah, not in Kansas anymore.”

What an odd name of a place.

“Is that the name of your island?”

He waved Zoro off, “Don’t worry about it. Let’s go get you a drink and me something I can pretend is alcoholic but isn’t.”

What a weird guy.

Two Years Ago

“You know, I thought when I landed in this world and became a pirate that I could avoid paperwork and running someone’s empire,” Tim said as he looked over said paperwork to run Luffy’s unknowing empire. God, it followed him like a bad dream. “How did this happen?”

Maybe the term empire was a large stretch of the definition. But there was a bevy of islands underneath the Straw Hats' protection in exchange for a nominal fee for upkeep of the ship. And that meant someone had to do the books and run it.

But why did it have to be him?

“Quit your complaining,” Nami said from where she was going over the budget for the Sunny. “You were that C-E-O thing, right? This should be a cakewalk.”

“I am regretting ever telling you that,” he said, looking up from a report Vivi sent concerning Alabasta’s recovery in the wake of the dismantling of the former World Government and the shadowy figure on the throne of the world.

Luffy, very clearly, had little interest in running the territories that he had conquered on his run to become King of the Pirates. While that was an admirable goal, the Straw Hats needed an income stream that was not selling marijuana-based products to pirates, sailors, apothecaries, and others.

Plus, they went through the work of freeing the damn places; at least they could do was keep an eye on them. Keeping in touch with their territories was less of running things behind the scenes and more of getting a small sum for “maintenance fees” and catching up on gossip. There were still a fair number of things to do and go over, even if everyone was free to run things as they wanted.

But at least the Straw Hat Pirates weren’t in the red anymore. He hated doing business, but Tim was good at running them.

“Is it really that similar?” Nami asked curiously. She had on her glasses, and her long hair was pulled up.

“My misery regarding paperwork?” he said with a smirk. “That doesn’t change regardless of the dimension.”

“No,” she gestured to the paperwork before both of them. “This to your old job.”

Huh.

Honestly, Tim hadn’t even thought about it too much. Was it?

He leaned back in his chair at that, “Not really? I mean, it’s basically making things run smoothly and keeping track of money with minimal fuss and hiccups. But Luffy handles all the stuff with other captains for the most part in terms of negotiations. When he doesn’t want to negotiate, you are there like a particularly well-dressed cat ready to strike. I’m not arguing with a bunch of decrepit old, largely white, and old-money men on the Board of Directors. And I’m not dodging reporters. Honestly? This is less stress on that ulcer that I’ll develop at some point, I’m sure.”

Thank fuck that there’s no Board of Directors in this world. No one has a concept of it. And Tim will keep it that way.

Well…

Maybe the Five Elders were a Board of Directors, like they were all old white men who were willing to stomp on the masses.

Hm.

Tim filed that away under Stuff To Think About On Day Three Of An Insomnia Streak.

“Is that bad for someone without a spleen?” Nami asked about his future ulcer.

Tim shrugged, “Probably.”

The navigator narrowed her eyes. All of his friends were mother hens.

“I already had my check-up with Chopper, Nami. I’m fine,” he said, inching back as she moved closer toward him. “Honestly, I feel fine.”

He credited Chopper’s pharmaceutical skills and everyone not wanting Tim to get sick and die for the fact that he pretty much hadn’t had many major complications from the lack of a bodily organ. He had gotten sick less than a handful of times since then, but it never developed into anything bad and was swiftly and mercilessly taken care of.

(He also felt like something was in the water that affected everyone’s healing rates and how damn strong they all became, even him, but he had nothing to run the samples against.)

Nami continued to stare at him.

“You’re a bigger mother hen than Sanji when the mood hits you,” Tim said.

“Shut up! I am not!”

Three Years Ago

“So why don’t you like bread, Torao?” Straw Hat asked as he kicked his feet idly in the Sunny’s kitchen. He had come up for air from the snack that the Cook had made for the crew. That was good. He was starting to wonder how long the other captain could eat without breathing.

Law was already regretting this alliance as they sailed from Punk Hazard. Straw Hat’s crew was insane. The new travelers that they had picked up were insane. Straw Hat was…well…Straw Hat.

All of his carefully thought-out plans were being cheerfully and loudly ignored. And Bepo wasn’t here, so he couldn’t take a nap on him. Ugh. There were so many people here and he wasn’t expected to socialize. Or they wanted to with him. For some reason.

It was all just a lot.

They were a lot.

This was a lot.

“It always just caused me stomach issues,” he said. “I’m not really sure why, Straw Hat-ya.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Law saw the intelligence officer, Drake, put down his own paperwork. Out of everyone on this insane crew, he was pretty sure he had one ally in him as the younger man seemed to be the only one to plan for his Captain’s madness. He was impressive on Punk Hazard with both the children and the technology.

There was just something about Drake that had become more refined since Law had last seen him on Sabaody.

And, again, he knew how to work around his insane captain even if he seemed a little too willing to indulge Straw Hat’s whims. However, that seemed to be the norm for most of this crew. But, still, it was a trait that Law had admired in the other man.

Now, Drake’s brow furrowed thoughtfully, looking him up and down. He didn’t shift awkwardly, but something those bright blue eyes felt like he was being analyzed, felt like he was being Seen. And there was something…odd about it.

“Torao?”

Great, he was in on this ‘Torao’ nonsense as well. Though this was the man who introduced himself to Law and Kid by casually coming up to his captain, giving the other captains a dismissive glance, and saying, “If you don’t mind stopping the dick-measuring contest, gentlemen, then we need to leave the auction house in like five minutes. Because that’s when it’s going to blow up.”

Kid sputtered, but Law was intrigued by him.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Well, that was surprisingly direct from the Straw Hat’s intelligence officer.

“Sure,” Law said. “I can’t say I’ll answer.”

“Aww, Torao,” Straw Hat whined like they were friends instead of allies. “Don’t be like that.”

“Is it just bread? Or is it anything with wheat in it? Like pasta, wheat-based flour?”

Law paused at that, unsure where the line of questioning was going. Was Drake teasing him or something? Was this some sort of way to say that Law was faking or something? Trying to figure out a weakness to take him out later?

But all he read on the other man’s face was genuine interest. So, with a voice that sounded suspiciously like Bepo in his head, encouraging, he answered honestly.

“It’s with all wheat,” he said.

“Could be Celiac’s,” Drake responded idly. He nodded to himself as if that made perfect sense before dropping his gaze down back to his paperwork.

It was a name that Law had never heard before. Though, from how the intelligence officer said it, it sounded like some sort of medical condition.

“Celiac’s?” the cook asked.

The younger man made a couple of marks on his papers.

“It’s a gluten intolerance, or at least that was the name of it back home. Gluten is a protein found in most wheat.”

The way Drake said back home was interesting. There wasn’t an emphasis on the words in particular, but Straw Hat and the sniper, who had wandered in for his own portion of the snack the cook made, shared a significant look. It was a good thing other members of this crew could lie worth a damn.

Law noted that something about Drake’s home was odd, but decided to focus on the more pressing information regarding his own health.

Still an intolerance to something in the bread and wheat, huh? He had never heard of this “gluten” before.

“What else do you know, Drake-ya?” he asked, glad to have a name. Even if it wasn’t correct with his own medical textbooks.

At that, the intelligence officer looked up again. And there it was, the odd electric feeling that seemed to tingle for a moment when their eyes locked. The other man put down his pen.

“Like I said,” Drake leaned back. “Your body just can’t handle a particular protein called gluten. It’s in white, rye, barley, oats, beer, and other stuff. I mean, you’re already avoiding it by letting people know you can’t eat bread. Sanji probably already adjusted his plans for your portions of mealtime. We just need to keep an eye on cross-contamination. No big deal, Torao.”

Straw Hat grinned and said, “Yeah! I’ll just eat enough bread for both of us!”

Law had no idea what to make of this idiot who insisted they were friends and was trying, in his own bizarre way, to empathize with him. Maybe? He had no idea what was going on, and he hated it.

But at least he had a diagnosis for something that had plagued him for most of his life. And, given how the Straw Hat’s cook was about food, he could trust that it wouldn’t be used against him.

“Thank you, Drake-ya,” he said to the other man, who was packing up to leave.

“You saved our captain’s life,” the intelligence officer said. His icy blue eyes pinned Law to his seat. He wasn’t the best at reading people, but there was something so heartbreaking in that gaze. Even Straw Hat quieted under that statement, his face in a rare frown as he looked at Drake. “Consider it part of the repayment for the debt that we owe you.”

Drake then swept out of the room.

In the sudden quiet, Law saw his fellow captain get up and follow after him. There was a rare look of seriousness on his face that he caught a glimpse of before he was out of the door.

“We do owe you our thanks,” the cook said, not looking at him. “For what you did.”

Oh, he did not like this. It felt too much like gratitude from people who would one day be his enemy.

“It was an interesting surgery,” Law said with a shrug. “It seemed like a waste not to try. And there’s no debt to repay for it. The alliance would cover it.”

“Good luck telling that to Tim,” the sniper said. “He doesn’t talk a lot about what he did while we were apart, but I’m pretty sure some of it was compiling a list of everyone who helped Luffy at Marineford.”

Law wondered why Drake would do such a thing: knowing every name, every detail, everything about the awful day. The War of the Best, it was called now. What a joke.

But some pirates would try to hold a favor over the head of another. Perhaps Drake was trying to clear the debts for his captain. Straw Hat had a disarmingly straightforward nature and a clear worldview. It’s what made it so easy to believe that he could achieve his goals: get to Raftel, become the Pirate King. He spoke it like it was fact, like the world hadn’t caught up to him yet.

People could use it against him.

Law knew it.

Given Drake, it was clear he was aware of it as well.

A fascinating man, ‘The Kingmaker’ Drake Timothy was turning out to be.

Law would need to keep an eye on him.

Five Years Ago

Sanji headed to the government train that Robin-chan had boarded onto. He knew that his crew would be behind them, but he didn’t want her to be alone. It didn’t matter if he was her knight in shining armor, but she needed to know she wasn’t alone.

He, however, wasn’t expecting someone to board with him. But a few moments after Sanji hopped on the departing train, someone familiar joined him as well.

“Oh, man,” Tim said, sounding oh so slightly out of breath. “That sucked.”

“Where were you?” Sanji whispered. “How did you get here?”

He smelled like burning things, even in the petrichor-soaked sea air.

“Listen, I jumped out of a flaming building with Chopper to save Iceburg’s and the rope guy’s lives,” their intelligence officer panted. “And that was after running around all day chasing ghost stories about a super secret spy organization within the spy organizations already had. And that was after blowing through every book the library had for what I needed to piece some stuff together. And that was after running around the day before trying to figure out where Franky took the money.”

Sanji paused at that. Okay, maybe he didn’t need to be snappy with Tim. He had a longer couple of days than most of them, discounting everything that went down with Usopp.

“You need a minute?” he asked gently.

“I need a minute,” Tim confirmed, sitting near the back door of the train. He had a couple of quickly slapped bandages on him. Sanji gave him a moment to catch his breath; the men inside the train car were loudly speaking to each other anyway. “Nami is safe, by the way. So is Chopper. Luffy and Zoro got their asses kicked, but I’m sure they’ll turn up. Our names are cleared. I think. I figured I’d be more help to you.”

His basic plan did work better with Tim on the train as well. If only because he was a master of espionage and stealth.

“We’ll need to figure out a way in.”

Tim looked up thoughtfully. “I think I can get around to the front of the car if you take it in from the back. Based on the shadows I saw, we’ll need to fight our way forward in order to get to Robin. But, however, it may be tricky to convince her to leave with us.”

Yeah, Sanji figured that as well. But they had to try. If she wanted to leave, then she had to say she wanted to leave. That was how this went on a crew.

“Why?” he asked, wanting to know what his friend saw.

Tim strapped on his bo staff, biting his cheek thoughtfully.

“I think she’s trying to sacrifice herself for us,” their tactician said. “It’s hard to talk someone back who is ready to die. Did you ever wonder why the World Government has been after her since she was a little girl?”

Of course, he had, but it felt rude to ask a lady her business. His stomach twisted at the thought of Robin-chan’s wanted poster. She looked so little with a serious mouth and wide blue eyes. He thought of himself at that ag,e and his stomach twisted.

“We don’t really talk about our pasts. Unless we want to. Robin-chan never did,” he looked down at Tim. “What did you learn?”

“She has a connection to a place called Ohara, which seemed to have been wiped off the map. They said that they were scholars who studied forbidden things or something. It reeked of media manipulation and government propaganda so badly I almost broke out in hives,” Tim flexed his fingers. “Any more than that would just be conjecture and supposition on my part.”

“Then don’t share it,” Sanji said, wishing he could light his cigarette. This one was probably ruined by the rain. No need to destroy another. “Robin-chan deserves better than that.”

“Of course,” he said. “It made sense now. While she only called us by our titles instead of our names. She was trying to create emotional distance for herself.”

If she had lost everything once, then that made sense.

“It would be nice when we bring her home to hear her call us by our names,” the cook said. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Tim said, eyes elsewhere. “It would be nice.”

Three Years Ago

“You guys got body swapped?” Tim asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. He went to do some light scouting and see if he could hack into the computers of Punk Hazard.

He was gone for twenty minutes.

“Oh yeah,” Franky said, his voice coming out of Chopper’s body. Well, that’s…something at least. “That Law guy did it.”

Tim stared down at him.

The cyborg-turned-reindeer stared up at him.

“It’s a little disturbing hearing your voice coming out of Chopper’s body, dude. I’m not going to lie,” he said, flatly. “I’m going to be talking to Nami now.”

“HEY!” Franky-in-Chopper said.

“Thank you,” Robin said with exhausted emphasis.

Well, she did dote on Chopper, and who the fuck knew what her and Franky’s relationship was. It made sense that she hated that swap.

“Alright then. It’s not so bad. Either there’s a time limit or Law wants something out of us and is using keeping you all in the wrong bodies as leverage,” he said, shrugging as he added it on his to-do list. “Right now. Either put on a nametag with your correct name on it or something to make it identifiable at a glance. More importantly, please respect the body you are in. Because you will be swapped back, and I won’t stop them from murdering you if they did something they aren’t cool with.”

Tim added the Bat-Glare, which seemed to have shamed Sanji-in-Nami’s body. He was going to have to get him laid at some point or something. Anything to get that pent-up whatever that had grown in Sanji’s body during his time with the Okamas that he didn’t want anyone to know about.

He knew, but he made it his job to know.

“Thank you, Tim,” Nami-in-Franky’s body said. “It’s much appreciated.”

“Not my first body-swap rodeo,” he said, feeling almost nostalgic. “Not my last, apparently. Honestly, I’m nostalgic for home.”

“It always really scares me when you say that,” Chopper-in-Sanji’s body said. “But I need your help with these kids, please.”

Tim went over as instructed because what else was he supposed to do?

He couldn’t wait to meet Law, however.

Chapter Text

Jason Todd wasn’t avoiding Wayne Manor.

At least he wasn’t avoiding it more than usual. He avoided it usually out of principle because fuck Bruce and fuck his double goddamn standards. Having holier-than-thou ideals was all well and good when he himself was above the people that he claimed to protect. All it did was make him a fucking paranoid bastard who was going to end haunted like Ebeneezer fucking Scrooge.

Jason has, of course, been cast as the Ghost of Christmas Past.

Or Robin’s past.

What the fuck ever.

But, even in his deepest throes of Pit Madness, he still loved Alfie. It was the only thing that the League couldn’t break in him as they trained him and whispered sweet poison in his ear. The old man was the closest thing left to family that Jason was willing to claim, and who was willing to claim Jason.

So, he went to Wayne Manor once a week when Bruce was out of the house for afternoon tea with Alfie. The old man prepared the whole spread with the little sandwiches and perfectly brewed pots of loose-leaf tea. The little delicate pastries that now felt so, so tiny in Jason’s hands.

His employees knew not to bother him for that sacred time that he snuck up to Wayne Manor to spend with Alfred. Anything less than a full-scale Arkham breakout, a Joker breakout, or some unholy third option that left the city teetering into the abyss is not a valid reason to bother the boss.

All the Outlaws did, both present and past, was tell him to say hi to the butler and ask to bring back snacks so they could descend upon his apartment a week later like a pack of hungry wolves (except Kori, who had manners)

However, he could admit to some reluctance to going up there this week with Replacement and everything. Jason’s feelings toward Tim Drake were an evolving thing, twisted by the League and by the Pit and by his own shitty self-worth issues. Roy would probably say something about making amends, but there really is no making amends for what he had done.

Not when the Pit was still there, lurking in the back of his head. And not when he couldn’t call Replacement by his name.

It’s not like the fact that Replacement got replaced himself, and then everything just magically went away in Jason’s fucked up psyche. Or the fact that he disappeared from the world and pushed B off an edge that he didn’t think was possible. This was the first time in like two and a half months that the man was in Gotham longer than a day. Of course, he knew why. Everyone knew why. It wasn’t out of some sort of jy, but his paranoid mind. Privately, the crime lord did get amusement out of the fact that two of Bruce’s Robins became criminals in some way.

Replacement was a motherfucking pirate. Apparently, his captain was so well known that he was considered King. He used everything he learned from the Bat and, much like Jason, turned it to crime. Who the fuck knew what pirates did in their world? He could make guesses, but who knew? What he knew was that the Bat had to have hated this development more than anything else in the world. Bruce had to be sweating through his spandex over it. The man always hated that which refused to be contained or that which reminded him too much of himself.

Maybe that’s why the middle Robins got the short end of the shaft. He knew that his former adoptive father saw himself in his middle “sons”.

But Jason also could tell that Replacement’s crew was dangerous. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up around them, and it was like drums in his ears during that dinner. They all looked at him, and there were levels of protectiveness or anger on behalf of a friend or indifference. He didn’t know which he deserved more and which he hated the most.

The part of the Pit that would always be with him cowered at the sight of the Captain in his straw hat and wide, easy smile. You think someone grinning that widely would be a trigger for him, but it didn’t. It was so different from the fucking Joker’s grin.

But no. He wasn’t so far fucking gone that every smile felt like seeing that monster.

He wasn’t Bruce.

It felt like seeing the smile of a friend long lost. Like how little Lian’s face lit up when Uncle Jay came by to visit, or Roy’s laughter over some dumb story, or Kori giggling on a beach. It was like Artemis laughing in his ear as they played Mario Kart with Biz. It was a smile of good things, a smile that Jason may have cracked once or twice.

And that’s what he saw when he entered through the kitchen for his and Alfred’s teatime. Replacement’s Captain smiled that smile as he sat on the counter ,swinging his legs back and forth like a little kid. Apparently, he was ignorant or uncaring of the butler’s “no sitting on the counters” rule.

Not that it was a rule that was overly followed. Every Robin had sat on those counters. Maybe not, Damian, the little gremlin, would find it “un-adult” or something like that.

The little reindeer creature was putting a bandage on his knee and scolding him about being more careful.

“Just because Tim can do that trick doesn’t mean that you can automatically do it.”

“Shishishi,” Replacement’s Captain laughed. “Sorry, Chopper.”

His eyes flicked up toward Jason. The little deer creature yelped and ducked behind the counter to…hide? He didn’t seem very good at it. Most of his body was sticking out.

“Um,” he said, feeling like he was intruding on something. Which he didn’t like because he had been invited here. He was holding a box of tea from the store that Alfred liked. “That’s not how you hide.”

“Chopper’s never gonna be good at hiding,” the other man said conspiratorially to Jason.

Chopper turned as pink as his hat as he glared up at the older man.

“Shut up, Luffy! I’m great at it!”

Luffy, that was the Captain’s name, merely grinned fondly.

“Sure,” he said, shooing him off. “Go and find Al, alright? I’ll stay here.”

The little deer looked between his captain and Jason, narrowing his eyes. He shifted awkwardly, hating that look in them. But knowing he probably deserved it.

He pushed down the haze of green that wanted to well up defensively around him.

If Chopper was Replacement’s doctor as well, then he knew what the green-eyed man was more than capable of. Even if he gave off the vibe that he was a little scared, the tiny creature seemed ready to stay behind and stand up to Jason. It was pretty admirable if he didn’t leave his insides feeling cold.

“No weapons,” he promised, keeping his hands out and body posture relaxed. “Except my ankle holster.”

“See? I’ll be fine,” Luffy said easily. “I wanted to talk to this guy anyway. And if he does anything I don’t like, then I’ll kick his ass.”

Well, that’s something. Jason would be offended if he hadn’t seen the footage from Wally’s bodycam. How this guy could make the whole world bend to the power of goddamn toon physics. Not that he wanted to fight him.

Alfred would kill them both if Jason fought Replacement’s captain in his kitchen. You don’t fight in the kitchen. It’s like one of the laws of the goddamn universe.

But it seemed to placate the little deer, who nodded and headed off with his first aid kit. He watched him go, hooves tapping on the floor.

Jason turned to see Luffy squinting up at him thoughtfully. He had leaned very close into his space; dark eyes screwed up like he was trying to see something far away.

“Can I fucking help you?” he ground out, not liking the sudden invasion of his personal bubble. Luffy didn’t answer and tilted his head to the side to an almost cartoonishly disturbing degree.. Jason’s neck hurt looking at it as he tried not to get the creeps one got from seeing something in the Uncanny Valley.

Rubber, his body is like rubber. And he can become a god that can utilize the power of toon physics or something.

Luffy pouted slightly as he pulled back and crossed his arms.

“I’m trying to see Ace in Helmet Guy.”

Now Jason was officially confused.

“Who the hell is Ace?”

“My brother,” he said, a flash of something in his eyes that made Jason’s heart squeeze. “He died. Tim thought that you two were…I dunno about the whole dimension thing.”

He racked his brain to remember what he learned traveling the multiverse with Kyle and Donna. Or for what had been in Bruce’s files about it.

Oh.

Well, wasn’t that his rotten luck?

“Multiversal echoes,” he said, softly. “Not a full counterpart with the same name, but a different life. But enough strong similarities that there was a chance we could have been the other.”

Luffy snapped his fingers and pointed at Jason.

“That!” he rocked on his heels. “I don’t get it. But Tim was pretty sure. Ace is still dead, though. Helmet Guy’s not. So I was trying to see Ace in him.”

Ah.

Replacement didn’t make proclamations like that easily. Much like Bruce, he didn’t like to say his theories out loud without enough proof that made sense to his own mind. So, Jason had an echo who was important to his captain and died, huh? He and this Ace guy must have had enough pre-mortem similarities to make him think it was the case.

At least the poor fucker had the blessing to stay fucking dead. No Lazarus Pits in the Pirate world then.

“Well, an asshole tried to punch a hole through reality and brought him back to life. So I’m guessing that didn’t happen in your world,” Jason said, trying not to think about Superboy Prime. If he thought of that asshole, then he was definitely going to think of—. “That’s a good thing. I don’t recommend digging out of your own grave.”

Too late, he was already thinking of it.

He took a deep, slow breath at that. He didn’t really like thinking about digging out of his own grave. It was a good thing that the kitchen was so open.

He put up a good front, but Jason didn’t like being confined.

“Did Replacement tell you anything else?” he asked, needing the emotional distance that came with not saying Tim’s name.

If he took offense to that, then the other man didn’t show it.

“Tim said a lot of things, Helmet Guy,” Luffy said, easily. “A lot of it is the reason that he’s mine now and not yours anymore. But I love Ace. He was a bit stupid, but he was my big brother. He was stupid in the way that he thought about people loving him.”

Maybe it was good that Replacement found people who loved him too much to let him get sucked into Bruce’s toxic orbit. He pushed down the green haze of the Pit long enough to admit that he was happy that one of them got out of this miserable and wretched life.

He hated that it was Replacement, but he was glad one former Robin got a happy ending. It was a weird sort of feeling that sat in his chest like a complicated knot.

Luffy turned his dark, dark eyes onto Jason, who felt pinned by the unblinking stare. It was a strange sort of look. Not like the serial killer whale eyes that people talk about and he had seen far too much of in his line of work, but a gaze that seemed to penetrate through him to understand without the creep factor.

“I asked about your death once,” Luffy said. “Tim didn’t tell me everything. But you were alone and betrayed and waiting for someone to save you. Except he never got there in time.”

No.

No, Bruce did not.

“We got there in time,” the captain continued, still staring but seemingly ignoring the complicated emotions that Jason was sure were passing across his face. “Ace was on the execution platform but we got there. I broke into the inescapable prison, and I escaped with people to help. He was adopted by Whitebeard, who came with his armada to save Ace because he was his son and he loved him. We started a war for Ace, and he said he wasn’t worth it. But he was because Ace was fire and warmth and special. Ace is my brother, even if he’s dead, and I love every inch of him, even the parts of himself that he didn’t love very much.”

A lump had settled in Jason’s throat. It had been a while since he cried. And he shouldn’t have taken comfort in this. That some echo of him in the multiverse had people show up, had people who cared, had people ready to destroy the fucking world for him. Yeah, they still failed even if they showed up in the nick of time.

But it mattered.

There was a reason Luffy was saying this to him. Maybe he was saying it to his brother; maybe Jason was a ghost to him. He didn’t know. He was rooted to the spot, unable to move. Part of him wanted to reach out to the other man, to shake him and beg him to stop. To not tell him of a life where some echo of him was loved so very, very well.

He was never worthy of that sort of grace, of that sort of love.

But fuck, he had always wanted to be. He thought he was with Bruce, who adopted him, who made him his son.

But he didn’t…

He needed to hear what he had to say.

“I’m older than Ace will ever get to be now,” Luffy continued, a bittersweet note to his voice. “Our other brother Sabo is older than Ace, too. It hurts sometimes, but it made me want to live harder for Ace. So when we do meet again, then he can hear everything. Tim said that Jason was passionate and kind, rough around the edges, but tried to have manners with most people. He admired Jason, like I did with Ace. Tim didn’t want to replace Jason.”

Luffy could have punched him in the stomach, and it would have been kinder than this. He knew, okay? When Replacement had vanished, Bruce tore apart his room, trying to figure out if there were any clues left behind by his missing son. At the very least, with his death, B knew where the body was theoretically buried. He didn’t have that comfort with his missing child.

As he helped Alfie clean up, Jason saw the little stalker’s pictures of him.

It’s strange, seeing how a photographer would frame you. Jason looked like an angel, or close enough to it. Even when he was smoking or doing something not heroic-like, there was still care in every frame. Tim Drake had seen the good in Jason Todd once.

And Jason beat him with a crowbar and slit his throat to make a point to Bruce.

“He still died, though.”

Luffy looked away. Even with the brim of his hat hiding his expression, the tilt of his mouth was sad, the sort of grief that never leaves a person. Not really.

“He protected me. He thanked me for loving him. There was nothing to thank because loving Ace was the easiest thing in the world. It hurts that he didn’t realize that.”

Jason was never easy to love. And the Pit made damn sure that it was ten times harder. Knowing the Joker was alive…

No, he couldn’t stop until he was dead.

“I did some bad things, kid.”

It didn’t matter if this guy was older than Jason. There was something so distinctly childlike about him.

“You did. And if you try to do that kind of stuff with Tim now, then I’ll kill you,” he said, suddenly serious. Suddenly not so childlike. “I killed the man who killed my brother. And he was magma, you don’t scare me.”

An animalistic part of Jason wanted to turn tail and go. But just like that, the pressure that seemed to hover in the air disappeared.

I killed the man who killed my brother.

Well, a version of him or an echo or what the fuck ever got avenged. He wasn’t sure how that made him feel. He wasn’t really sure how this whole conversation made him feel.

“I’m not,” he said. “I won’t.”

He couldn’t tell from the shadow of the brim of his straw hat, but Jason got a bare nod of acknowledgement.

Before the captain sighed deeply, lifting up the brim of his hat so he could look at Jason properly, “It’s not wrong to want to be free, Helmet Guy. You wanted to be free of the man who hurt you. There’s nothing wrong with that. Sometimes, you can only be free of that when they’re dead.”

Bruce doesn’t see it that way, Jason tried to say. But the words were stuck in his throat, unable to move. Because God, didn’t he want that fucking validation a little bit? Didn’t he want understanding instead of grief for the precious no-kill rule?

Didn’t he just want someone to say it's okay to not want the man who hurt you to live? He felt like he never got that.

Luffy tilted his head as he stared at him again, and the Pit cowered in the back of Jason’s mind.

“And there are chains around you,” he said, eyes flashing red, and Jason could oh so briefly hear drums beating. “Green sick chains. They aren’t nice.”

Luffy could see the Pit, Jason realized. For a moment, it was like Marley in A Christmas Carol; he could see the chains snaking around him, digging into him, always there, weighing him down. He always knew, of course, that green was there. It was always so very enmeshed in him, dragging…

Down to Hell, maybe. Jason was under no compunctions about how death would go for him this time.

“You see it?” he whispered.

“Mmmhmm,” Luffy nodded. “They look heavy.”

Yeah.

They were.

“And you’re just gonna leave them there?”

“Well, yeah,” Luffy shrugged. “You gotta choose to be free. No one else can choose for you. Otherwise, then you’re not really free? You’re just following someone else’s decision. I’m the Pirate King because I’m the freest man in the world. And my crew is free. But they asked or said it to me. You gotta ask or say it.”

Jason felt thoroughly worked over emotionally.

And he felt scared.

Who was he without the Pit?

“Can…Can I get back to you on that?”

“Sure,” Luffy shrugged, hopping down from the counter at the natural end of the very bizarre conversation. He paused in the doorway. “Do you regret it?”

It, he assumed, was what he did to Tim.

“I felt justified at the time,” Jason said, because it was true. He was hurt, and the whole world should know his fury. He certainly wasn’t gonna laugh about it. “But that doesn’t matter much, does it?”

“No,” Replacement’s captain said.

One day, Jason Todd will be more courageous and apologize.

Today, however, was not that day.

“Master Jason?” Alfred asked, finally walking into the kitchen. “Ah, Captain Luffy. You didn’t…”

“Shishishi,” Luffy grinned wide and sunny like he wasn’t throwing gut punches at Jason’s heart. “I avoided the tea stuff. Not worth Sanji’s kicks, but can I have some cookies?”

“There are some by the breadbox. I believe the rest of your crew were going to picnic in the West Gardens. Or that was where Master Tim, Master Usopp, and Doctor Chopper were making their way toward.”

The grin didn’t move, but seemed to turn fonder as he looked at the older man.

“Thanks, Al!”

Luffy’s arm whipped out, longer than anything, grabbed the cookies, and pulled his arm back to him as he was leaving the room.

“Are you alright, Master Jason?” Alfie asked, voice soft.

Was he?

He felt emotionally wrecked and far too seen. He could be free of the Pit, so why didn’t he just ask to be free? Why did it scare him so fucking bad? He had the pit for so long that he didn’t know who he was without it, and that thought, more than anything else, terrified him.

“Can I have a hug?” he asked instead, feeling all of twelve years old and so very lost.

If it surprised the old butler, then he didn’t show it.

“Of course, Master Jason.”

Jason folded himself into Alfred’s embrace and let himself be held.

“Did you get what you wanted out of it?” Tim asked as Luffy joined them outside for a picnic in the garden. Sanji and Zoro were fighting in the background while the others focused on the spread of freshly set out food. You think that after five years of knowing someone, he would be better at reading his Captain.

But, in the grand scheme of things, Luffy was refreshingly straightforward. After Bruce’s manipulations and tests, praise that came at a cost, holding his cards far too close to the vest, Tim appreciated it. There was only so much reading of a person one could do before it just became exhausting.

His Captain, however, was straightforward. He meant what he said and said what he meant, wearing his emotions freely and easily. Tim loved him for it, how safe Luffy could make him feel by taking out the guesswork. However, sometimes, he worried that something was going on deeper within him that the intelligence officer couldn’t read.

But he knew Luffy would want to talk to Jason. He wasn’t surprised when Chopper ran back to tell the group and calmed the more excitable members down. Tim had gone with Usopp and the reindeer as back-up, those two having lost the game of lots. Reminding them that Jason preferred guns helped since Luffy could bounce back the bullet.

“He has Ace’s freckles,” his captain said, thoughtfully. “And their hair is similar except for the streak and the body, I guess. His eyes are different, and his nose.”

“Echoes,” Tim said, leaning on his hand. “Not a perfect one-to-one.”

“He’s scared like Ace was scared,” he put his hand to his chest. “In here.”

“About whether people really love him?”

Luffy leaned back and shrugged, “Maybe. You were right, though. This Pit thing put chains on him. I could see it. It was scared of me.”

He snorted. Of course, of course, the Lazarus Pit born of darkness and shadow and madness and pain would take one look at Monkey D. Luffy and cower. A dark part of Tim relished the thought.

His captain grinned.

“We’ll see if he asks for help.”

If it were any other person, then Tim would have thought it a dig at his own reluctance to ask for help, to admit weakness. He should. He knew being in the Manor wasn’t healthy for him, especially in the stalemate that he and Bruce had entered. But he needed to see it through. He needed to do it his way, and the support of his crew helped more than he would ever really want to know. From Luffy, it was just a statement of fact; the ball was in Jason’s court now. So to speak.

“Historically not something the Bats do well at,” he said. “Even if we leave the nest.”

But he knew he could, and that he wasn’t alone in this.

Alfred reminded him of a little device that could allow him to traverse dimensions down in the Batcave. In his own roundabout way.

Tim’s mind whirled with possibilities.

That made all the difference, Tim supposed.

Chapter Text

One Year Ago

Sometimes, the crow’s nest was the most peaceful place to be on the Sunny. It was far enough away from the deck to not hear the louder members of the crew, unless they really projected their voices. It felt like its own little private world, a cocoon in the clouds that didn’t feel as stifling as the executive suite of Wayne Enterprises or the harrowing drop as he swung through the night in Gotham. No, the crow’s nest was peaceful in a way that settled Tim as he kept watch and enjoy the peace.

He kept watch for other ships, islands, and dangers, of course. But he could still comfortably zone out. It was a comfortable almost half-doze as he stared out at the sea and the sky, sparkling sunshine on the softly lapping ocean waves.

There really isn’t anything scarier in the sea any more than the Straw Hat Pirates. That wasn’t him being cocky, it was a statement of fact. Technically, they were still wanted men and women. However, no one wanted to be the asshole that brought in the people who helped save the world.  Well maybe Lucci and the remnants of CP whatever number they were on, but they had been disavowed by the new World Government and would be an issue for Future Tim.

So long as they weren’t making active moves not to hurt what was His, he really didn’t care to worry about them.

He had better things to think about on his birthday, after all.

Tim also knew that his crew were keeping him up on crow’s nest duty so they could put together a surprise birthday party for him. Robin, knowing he would attack upon being screamed at suddenly, let him know so he could be prepared for it. She was, as always, his favorite. The others weren’t so bad either as fondness and love warred in his chest, tinged oh so slightly with something a bit bitter and a bit sweet.

He was twenty-one today.

If he was back on his Earth, then he would have been old enough to drink. Bruce didn’t like mind-altering substances, so he wouldn’t have taken Tim out for his first legal drink. Anything that could take focus away from the mission, his mentor didn’t like at all. But maybe he would have done something.

If time on Earth was passing the same rate as here, then maybe Bruce had softened somewhat. Tim would have hated being a reason for him to retreat further from the world, an excuse to say that everything was dark and bad and horrible. But he knew that the odds weren’t great for that either, but, still, he lived in hope. But, either way, alcohol dulled the mind so…

But breaking the no mind-altering substances rule was a line Tim crossed a few years ago when he and Nami started growing pot for an alternate cash-flow solution and to help with his insomnia. Dick would, he liked to think. He would have taken him for his first legal drink, whatever that would be.

Maybe his older brother would bemoan over a gray hair that came in due to stress and the fact John Grayson had apparently gone gray in his thirties. But the asshole would be like distinguished and handsome whenever he went gray. Dick would probably take Tim to a decent bar tucked away into some side street and buy him a beer or something. And laugh at him because oh he did not like the taste of beer.

Maybe there would have been a birthday party at the Manor. Maybe the family would have been in a better place then they were when they left. Tim wasn’t sure how much he believed that. He wasn’t an optimist by nature, but even could admit that he changed. That his crew had changed him.

He’d liked to believe that things would have been in a happier place after four years. But Gotham and the world had a way of dragging you down. Honestly, Tim hadn’t expected to live this long. After almost dying in the desert or with the Clench, he just assumed that he was on borrowed time anyway.

And then there was what happened when Luffy ascended as Pirate King…

But it was a good life he had, and, maybe it was an illogical thought, but he hoped that they somehow knew. He missed Bart, Kon, and Cassie. He missed Dick, Cass, Babs, Stephanie, and Alfred. Despite his increasingly complicated feelings toward the man, he even missed Bruce. As for Jason and the Demon Brat? He hoped they were okay. He hoped that the Bats had some way to confirm that he was alive out there in the multiverse, even if they didn’t know his exact Earth.

He didn’t want to be mourned or used for self-flagellation or any of the typical Bat responses to tragedy. It felt too ironic, considering how he came into the clan.

Besides, he was so happy here with people who loved him.

Who were throwing together a birthday party as a surprise because they loved him and wanted to celebrate him being alive and with them.

What more could he ask for?

“Tim!” Chopper called excitedly. “Tim! Tim! Come down we need you please!”

He was giggling.

Bless the reindeer but he could never ever keep a secret. Even without Robin’s head’s up, the doctor or the captain would have blown away the game. Tim felt a smile tug on his lips at that, in utter fondness.

I’m happy, he thought as if praying though he wasn’t much of the praying kind. He really hoped that, by some miracle, his family could feel it. I’m happy and I’m safe and I’m loved. Do you feel it? Have you missed these past couple of years? I’ve missed you. But I am happy.

“Tim!” Chopper called again.

“Coming!” he yelled.

He shook the last thoughts of his old world from his head like cobwebs. The technology here just wasn’t there enough, even on Egghead, even with Vegapunk, for him to make something to get himself home. While there was a potential Devil Fruit that could help out there, he liked being able to swim. And he didn’t want a power anyway. It’s a lot to risk on a gamble of a maybe.

Tim could make gambles, but he’d want the odds at least slightly in his favor. Maybe it was cruel to not be trying harder to get home, to just surrender to this life he’d built for himself. But, all those years ago, he had to make a choice and he was fine with the decision that he had come to. He was happy where he was. Maybe one day he could get word home or let them know he was alive. But he was happy here.

He was living a dream fulfilled.

Chopper grabbed Tim’s hand once he was on the deck and bounced excitedly on his hooves.

“Let’s go!”

“What’s the rush?”

But he allowed himself to be pulled along, down to the Sunny’s kitchen, to the well-wishes and shouts of Happy Birthday. To the hugs and the noogies and arm punches and big smacking kisses on the cheek, the warm sounds of people who love each other together in one place.

It was like music to his ears. 

Three Years Ago

It was strange to get back into the rhythm of being a crew again. They were apart longer than they were together, after all. But it wasn’t as hard as Tim feared it would be. In fact, it seemed almost bizarrely easy, like puzzle pieces slotting into place. Part of him, admittedly, was terrified of coming back to the crew after the two years apart. He wanted to believe that nothing major would change, but, well, he wanted to believe that about a lot of things back home.

Life was change, and that change was often rather disappointing. Or heartbreaking. Or traumatizing. At least, in Tim’s experience. But with the Straw Hats, the change seemed to be for the better, rather than for the worse.

Or the horrifying, but that could be his Gotham-born and bred mind supplying the word.

Maybe, with these people, it could be something good as well, something joyous, something to delight in. But, he was still…

Scared.

Like, even as hard as he worked and with all the tabs he kept on everyone, he was scared that they would have changed their minds about him. He wasn’t part of this world, after all. This wasn’t his true home.

In short, he had gotten into his own head over it. A voice that suspiciously sounded like Kon told him that he had to knock it off. Plenty of people liked him, even loved him. Experience, however, told Tim that a lot of people felt otherwise.

So, he avoided the reunions until the last moment. He set up explosives at the slave auction house that had feebly attempted to be rebuilt in the two years after he blew it up the first time. He snuck onto a Marine ship as well and set up explosives there. The Queen of All Birds that he befriended was in the wings because she owed him several favors since he saved her eggs from being trafficked to “collectors”.

Probably Celestial Fucking Dragons and their ugly ass hair.

And he also dealt with his “doppelganger”.

The man was still alive, but he was going to be blamed for blowing up the slave auction house. Maybe he went off the deep end, really thinking he was Drake Tim. Or, if he didn’t want to really know the full force of Tim’s attention on him, then that’s how he was going to sell it.

The thing was that he was used to living his life as a ghost. He floated in and out of people’s lives, but was never really in them. Or, at least, he never really felt part of them. His parents loved him, he knew, and they tried, in their own ways, to be good parents. But they still left him at home or boarding schools for stretches of time that hurt.

And the last biggest change, before they went to the ends of fucking Paradise, before he failed his Captain, was landing in this world. Tim didn’t believe in a guardian angel watching over him, but his luck wasn’t that good to land in Luffy’s arms when he did. His luck wasn’t that good that people kept caring about him, even though they were so far apart from each other.

But he still showed himself on the deck when Nami sounded so worried... He was a ghost of a person, and he was scared that he wouldn’t be missed when they were separated. 

And then Luffy hugged them all.

Tim was not a crier, but it was a close thing. It was strange how wanted you felt when you were in those arms. He wasn’t needed or a necessity or anything. He was wanted because he was just Tim, and his captain picked him.

He was here.

And he was Seen.

If Luffy weren’t so clearly aroace and Tim were smart enough not to touch the headache of dating him with a five-foot pole, then he would have been head over heels in love with his captain. Maybe the whole crew was a little bit.

Maybe it’s not a huge surprise that the first night back on the Sunny, they all migrated to the lawn deck to sleep. Tim had been out on the deck, but everyone joined in a pretty quick succession. Laughing a bit awkwardly and grinning at each other.

“It’s been lonely,” Robin said, voice warm in her honesty. “I wouldn’t mind being with everyone tonight.”

“Slumber party!” Luffy cheered happily. “That’s a great idea, Robin!”

She held her arms open, and Luffy dove in for a hug.

Zoro and Sanji came up arguing over blankets. Chopper and Usopp were helping Franky set up something while Brook played his violin.

Tim saw Nami fussing with her hair.

“Do you want me to braid it for you?” he asked.

She turned to look over her shoulder.

“You can do that?”

“I’ve had people who kept their hair long in my life,” Tim said as he gestured for her to sit on the grass in front of him. “I don’t think my skills have gotten that rusty. And I won’t even charge you for the service.”

She laughed at that, and he grinned. He was the only one not in debt to her, and it had been a joke between them about Tim needing to charge her for his services.

Nami looked at him for a long moment before throwing her arms around him.

“I really missed you,” she said, burying her face into his shoulder. She still smelled like tangerines, even though she hasn’t been around her trees for years. “You should have met up with us. Before. I was worried. Dumbass.”

Maybe, he should have. Maybe he shouldn’t have been scared. Or wanted to show what he could do. But he just…

If he waited until the last minute, then, he told himself, it wouldn’t hurt much if they didn’t notice he wasn’t there.

But they did.

Tim hugged her tight, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I was being dumb.”

Because Nami understood that, he thought. She didn’t talk much about Arlong, but she did talk about what it was like to float through your life, too scared to make a connection, too worried that you wouldn’t be missed when you were gone. Drifting through life like a ghost until you reach the other side of it.

She kissed his temple and pulled back.

“For someone so smart,” she said, sticking her tongue out. “You sure are dumb.”

Tim laughed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, it’s a good thing I have you guys now.”

Nami grinned and turned so Tim could braid her hair, “Definitely.”

Five Years Ago

Someone flung a towel at Zoro’s head toward the end of his training. He blinked, feeling the scratchy soft texture of the towel that Nami had bought in Loguetown settle around his neck. He put down the barbell he was using to practice his swings with and took the other one out of his mouth.

“What—” he asked, turning to see Tim with his arms crossed before him.

Their tactician had Luffy tied up.

“Um,” Zoro said.

“Bath. Time.” Tim said, prodding him in the chest with his finger. He had a slightly manic look in his eye.

Luffy tried saying something, but their tactician had him gagged as well. Was this a mutiny? Were they in the middle of a hostile takeover from this guy?

“Bath time?” Zoro said, mentally counting the days off in his head. “But it hasn’t been a w—“

“Listen,” Tim said, cutting him off. He had a slight eye twitch. “I don’t care. You both went into that swamp on the island yesterday, and you still smell. And maybe you are noseblind to how bad you smell, but the rest of us have to live with you. So, you either come with me and we get you clean or, I swear, I will make you.”

He didn’t yell, which was scarier. Zoro could deal with yelling. The crew was loud by nature.

No, Tim just stared, unblinking, at the swordsman with icy blue eyes. His voice got a little gravellier.

The green-haired man was not intimidated.

But he also was not going to fuck with him when he was like that. Especially not over something like a bath.

Even if it was a pain, the swamp wasn’t that bad.

“Alright,” he said. He picked up the hogtied Luffy. “We’ll go bathe.”

Tim nodded and apparently went to get the shitty cook since they needed tomato juice to help with the smell. It worked, but it was weird as hell.

During The Straw Hats’ Separation

Tim stared down at the newspaper in his hands, which was one of the strange birdfolk on the island he landed on had given him. They had been oh so kind after he saved the sacred eggs of the gigantic Queen of the Birds from poachers(?). And had agreed to show him how to train birds as well. Apparently, this was the place the News Coos came from, and they had asked him to keep that quiet as very few knew about this place.

Sure, whatever, Tim could keep a secret.

However, right this moment, his eyes were zeroed in on the picture. His friend, in mourning, was about to be attacked by Marines with a message on his arm.

3D2Y

Tim felt a weird pride swell in his chest upon seeing that. His captain was smarter than anyone, Luffy included, would give him credit for.

Two years, then. He wanted them to stay away for two years. He wanted them to become stronger so that they could take on the New World. Because, well, Kuma taught them a lesson and it had been driven home in Marineford.

Consciously, Tim made his fingers stop gripping the newspaper so tightly. He didn’t want to rip a hole in it. But…

The tragedy was turning his stomach into knots. More importantly, he had to make a choice now.

(Luffy’s brother was dead, and Tim wasn’t there. He could have had a plan. He was the tactician. He needed to have a plan. Was Luffy okay? Or would he fall apart like Bruce did after Jason? He should have done something, but what could he have done?

What could any of them have done? But…

Why did Luffy have to be alone?)

Tim joined the Straw Hats, thinking that, long term, it could be a way for him to get home. There were remnants of ancient, advanced civilizations all around the place. But if he dedicated two years to training, to returning to the crew, then he was admitting right here and now that he wasn’t ever really going to go back home. Because he could spend his time dedicating to find a solution to return to his universe or dedicating himself to getting stronger for his crew.

By doing that, he was choosing one place over the other. Tim was giving up on his home universe, on his friends, on the Bats. He would be fully turning his back on all of them for however long it took after the two years to make Luffy King. Maybe one day, he could return, but it would be far in the future, further now if he fully picked his crew.

Did he really want to do that?

Was he okay with it?

He…

(He never told anyone how much it sucked getting your throat slit. It was pretty much a miracle that Jason did the cut in such a way that it didn’t hit an artery or something. He thought that was bad until...

Well. The pipe hurt way worse. Nothing Damian ever did to Tim had hurt orse than what happened at Titans Tower. But Replacement and Pretender would always dog at his heels. He was so fucking tired of that.)

But…

(Bruce’s infrequent kindness and strict demands. The times when it seemed like he wanted to care versus the times when it seemed like he couldn’t care less. The times when he told them that trust and hope and faith were luxuries that they couldn’t afford to have in their line of work. And Tim just wanted him to pick a lane because he would see flashes of the man that he used to be once, but…

Tim didn’t want to be under a microscope for another man’s tragedy his whole life. Was that so wrong?)

…

(He was fucking angry at Dick for taking away Robin from him to give to Damian. He knew it was stupid and petty and childish, but he was still so ANGRY about it. He worked for that suit with blood and sweat and tears; deaths of his parents and metaphorical deaths of relationships; and Damian just what?! Fucking got it because they didn’t want him running back to the death cult?!

IF THEY BELIEVED TIM WHEN HE SAID BRUCE WAS FINE, THEN NONE OF THIS WOULD HAVE HAPPENED!

And he was so fucking tired of it all. He was tired of putting grown men back together again. He was tired of feeling like the burden of everything was on his shoulders. He was tired of seeing people he loved either be lost or lose someone. And he was angry at his home world. Because it felt like nothing he did mattered.

He was so tired of the sacrifice that heroism required.)

Tim sighed and put down the paper, smoothing it out gently. This world wasn’t perfect either. Seeing the human auction house and what happened to Camie made his blood boil. The Celestial Dragons made him think of the worst sort of Gotham elite.

…

Was this really such a hard choice that he was trying to make it out to be, in his head?

No.

He wasn’t happy there anymore in his world. Tim could say that he was probably depressed. And it hadn’t gone away overnight in the company of the Straw Hats, but…things got easier with time and patience and love and support. They did it so effortlessly. But he felt alive again in a way he hadn’t in a good long while. He felt like he could breathe again. He felt like he could be happy here.

Tim thought of Robin screaming out to the world that she wanted to live. And he wanted to scream with him that so did he. He wanted to live as well. He wanted to live here with them all and got to sea with them. He didn’t because it was truly their archaeologist’s moment, but the temptation was so very strong for him, not wanting her to feel alone in that feeling.

He could ignore the message, not get strong, let them think he’d gone home after the two years had passed, and try to get a message to Sabaody for them. He could try to make the technology of this world work for him. It was a lot to risk on a prayer.

And…

(“My dream is to have a family who loves me,” he told Luffy once. “I just want to be loved like it’s easy.”

And Luffy smiled and didn’t laugh.)

Tim closed his eyes.

Yeah.

He made his choice.

“I’m sorry,” he said to the photo of his captain and to the people he left behind. He was making a choice. He was choosing them. He was choosing this world and a group of pirates who made him something deeper than a family, who made him belong.

(Kon, Cassie, and Bart would understand the most, Tim thought. They always wanted him to just be Tim. They wanted him to be happy.

They would like the people he picked for himself. He had to believe that.)

Alright then. His decision made Tim could finally focus his mind on what needed to be done. And a lot needed to be done.

He had an abundance of time and not enough at all.

Two years. Luffy had given him two years. He couldn’t stay in one place for that time. No, he had time, which was what he needed all along.

He could make miracles happen with minutes of prep time. He has years. He could make miracles happen then.

Will make miracles happen.

Tim leaned forward, steepling his fingers together. He needed forgeries, identities, and contacts, but that could be easy enough to procure or make. The birdfolk offerred to show him how to control birds since he saved the eggs for the Queen of All Birds. Tim could use that. The fucking snails could be monitored (he'll need to get his own for wiretapping purposes), but the birds weren't. That was interesting. He needed to find Ace’s grave because he had to be sure that he wouldn’t be resurrected. There may be no Superboy Prime punching a hole in reality to bring him back. But echoes across the multiverse were weird.

He needed a mentor. He had some ideas on that front, looking at those who fought in Marineford. He needed to see the world and get information. He couldn't go half-blind any longer. Tim wasn’t going to be just the tactician anymore.

A King needs a spymaster to succeed, and he had always been at home in the shadows. A crew needed an intelligence officer.

“Alright then, Captain,” he murmured, looking at the picture. “I’ll see you in two years.”

Tim smiled to himself.

This would be fun.

Chapter Text

It had been a week since Tim had returned home by accident, and Dick was feeling like it was a largely successful endeavor for all intents and purposes. Okay, maybe "largely" was being a bit hyperbolic, but moderately successful felt like a downer. He and his younger brother were repairing their relationship. Alfred was extremely happy, in his Alfred way, and Cass was stopping by the Manor more. Stephanie and Tim were back to talking to each other with zero awkwardness that he could see.  

Even Damian had become a bit more introspective rather than snappish in the wake of his fight with Zoro. Dick’s Robin had been meditating a lot more and looking over old case files of Tim with a thoughtful frown. If this was a step forward toward them tolerating each other, then he would take it. Jason had been downright quiet when he had run into him on patrol the previous night, just saying that Tim’s Captain was fucking weird.

But it wasn’t like in an “I want to kill him way” so yeah. Dick was taking this all as a win.

Bruce, however, was still an issue. But this wasn’t new. Bruce and his lack of emotional connection with his children would always be an issue. Dick didn’t doubt that he had loved them in his own way. But he just refused to really connect with them anymore, like he walled off his heart.

Of course, as Bruce’s ward and the kid who knew him the longest, he could understand it. Jason’s death almost killed him, and they weren’t as close as he was with Tim even though he did love his brothers equally. He felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest. Bruce was the parent; it was a pain that Dick never would even begin to know. Losing Tim, especially after he saved Bruce, it wasn’t as bad as Jason’s death, but it was bad.

It was just like his mentor had given up, but in the opposite direction from how he was after Jason. That was Bruce at his most outwardly self-destructive: beating with extreme prejudice, drinking, and with an endless simmering anger. Maybe it was because they knew that Tim was alive in the multiverse that kept him from taking that dive, but he was just lost to them.

Bruce just put up more walls between himself and his children. He spent more time away from home, working on global and intergalactic issues with the JL, letting Dick be the local Batman, so to speak, with Damian as his Robin. But he was colder and his paranoia had grown and he…

If there was a chance in hell that Dick could drag Bruce to therapy himself, then he would. Or if he could force the hands of the founding JL members to make him go. But they wouldn’t and he couldn’t, and it was just…

…

(oh man how does he put this?)

…

A powder keg.

Because things were going well, but Bruce refused to engage with Tim or his crew. He looked at Luffy with disdain or something resembling concern. Even with the help and the knowledge, he didn’t like that Tim had made a choice that wasn’t The Mission or Gotham or Bruce himself. The third Robin had retired to become a pirate.

That he wasn’t going to stay and lose himself in The Mission. Tim, to Bruce, was the most like him in many ways. Dick knew that it scared the older man because, at his core, Bruce Wayne didn’t trust himself. So, he also didn’t trust his third Robin either. Because of the lack of trust, everything was under scrutiny as a result.

Even if it wasn’t deserved. Or, well, it truly wasn’t deserved. But, well…

His mentor was an extremely difficult man, especially when it came to listening to his children.

Of course, this was all the guesswork of Dick Grayson, but he liked to think he knew Bruce Wayne very well at this point. He had to know him very well at this point, even if it felt to Dick’s own detriment at times. But he also was hoping that he was wrong.

Sooner rather than later at this point, something was going to strike a match to a powder keg. And they all were going to be caught up in the explosion, even if it wasn’t deserved.

That’s what it meant to be in the Batman’s orbit; it was a constant brace for impact.

Because, for everyone else, things were going well. He wanted it to go well. It should be going well. It was a miracle to have Tim back, that one in a trillion shot that they accidentally summoned from the world he ended up in. That Tim was happy. That was all he ever wanted for his siblings: to be happy.

Someone in this miserable family should know joy.

He just hoped that the older could pull himself out of whatever hole he was in. Honestly, Dick didn’t have that much faith in that happening anymore.

Because, at this point, it felt like the only person who could save Bruce Wayne from himself was Bruce Wayne.

Robin had taken an interest in Tim’s old hobby of trying to crack cold cases. He was delighted, of course, because they loved to talk about body decomposition rates and weird medical ailments. She loved to hear the stories of some of the cases he had cracked during his vigilante days, and he got treated to tales of her time in Baroque Works. Tim loved all of his crew equally, but he and Robin had their own special bond. Or so he liked to think anyway.

So he went back to his old bedroom, which didn’t hurt quite as much to go into, and dug out a couple of notebooks for her to look at. They were in a cipher that he had taught her and, oh, he had a couple of books as well as well that she would like. He decided on a mix of ones that he did crack and ones that remained unsolved as well. Maybe a fresh set of eyes would help in getting closure.

It felt like they were all big on that in the Straw Hats.

Closure.

However, he wasn’t really sure if the Bats were something he could get closure from. There was no evil conspiracy or anything of the like: just a deeply broken man surrounded by broken people who tried to fix an equally broken city. When Tim made his decision to stay on the Blue Planet, when he made his choices to shed himself of the Bats rules, he had to make his own peace with what was done to him and what he had done to others.

There was nothing to be gained from trying to get something as complicated as closure out of them. He wanted to have things on better terms, maybe come and see his friends and loved ones from time to time. Now that their universes had brushed against each other, the time dilation effects should have evened out. So, his friends wouldn’t be missing years and years of his life over the course of months.

He wished things were clearer about what to do next. Tim wanted out of the house, but he didn’t want a bat-shaped shadow chasing him and his friends from sea to shiny fucking sea either. He was ready to go, honestly, and get away from Gotham before she sank her claws into him and dragged him back into the poisonous embrace that all of the Bats craved.

Or maybe he was just feeling poetic because he wanted to crawl out of his skin and get the fuck away from Bruce. If the man wasn’t going to talk to him, then fine. But this was getting ridiculous at this point.

However, what he could do was focus on the task in front of him.

He found a box to put in everything for Robin. Tim had gotten a nice little pile going when his passive Observation Haki informed him that Damian was approaching down the hallway. He looked up as the teenager paused in the doorway.

“Drake,” he greeted stiffly.

“Damian,” Tim greeted back, flipping through another one of his notebooks to see if it was one that he thought Robin would like or not.

The younger of the pair shifted slightly on his foot, which was his version of nervous fidgeting.

“May we talk?”

Well, that was positively polite. Tim told himself that if he and Damian met and the current Robin was civil, then he would be civil back. He lived through too damn much to be angry anymore. It was hard work to be angry all of the time, to keep the fire stoked. Though the colder kind of anger was easier to maintain, like for Captain Boomerang or the Joker.

Or Blackbeard. Or Akainu. Or Imu.

He’d rather keep his icy rage for those who truly deserve it.

“Sure,” he said, putting the book into the box. “Come in.”

Damian entered awkwardly.

“What are you doing?”

Well, whatever made him feel better about navigating this talk. Tim showed the teenager the books he was packing up.

“When I wasn’t on duty, I’d like to try to solve cold cases, like really famous ones,” he said easily. “Robin, my friend Robin, wanted to see my notes, and I thought she’d like these books. We have similar interests. Back home, she’s a historian and archeologist.”

Damian furrowed.

“And this was needed for…your crew?”

It was a normal member for their pirate crew, but he was clearly trying to be nice. Or at least his version of it.

“It was helpful getting to Laugh Tale,” Tim said easily. “That was where the One Piece was, and finding that made Luffy King of the Pirates. Due to her training as a scholar, Robin was able to read the ancient writings that allowed us to travel there. But she always liked more morbid topics as well, hence the box.”

Green eyes narrowed as he looked at the books, “I can only imagine that your skills have grown while you were away.”

“Perhaps,” he said, wondering if he should put the kid out of his misery.

“I conferred with Jonathan,” Damian said in that overly formal, old man way of his. In the time he had been gone, Dick informed Tim, the youngest had continued the tradition of finding his own Super counterpart. They were best friends, and Jonathan helped Damian navigate his own emotions. It sounded like a lot to put on a kid, but his elder brother assured him that he and the Lane-Kents were keeping an eye on things. Sometimes, having a peer to talk with about emotions was better and healthier, so long as they also had your best interests at heart.

“Okay,” Tim said.

“He pointed out to me that perhaps I should apologize to you,” he said stiffly. “That a warrior’s pride does not mean much if a warrior has nothing to protect.”

Well, look at you, Jonathan Lane-Kent. The Second? Was he the second? He should ask Dick or Kon.

“I’ve met a lot of warriors,” Tim said, thinking of the giants of Elbaf, of other pirates and marines, of heroes and villains, of his own crew, maybe even himself. “But the ones who fight the most fiercely are always fighting in service to someone rather than for their own gain. There is pride and shame in it as with everything, but what is a warrior without devotion?”

“Grandfather had many things wrong.”

Ugh, that was definitely going to be a headache that he’ll have to deal with. He was surprised that he had gotten any creepy little gifts from the ancient man. Though, considering the destruction and carnage that he’d left of the League, maybe Ra’s was biding his time.

Good fucking luck there. The Demon’s Head was not expecting the King’s Shadow.

“He did,” Tim agreed.

“But he refuses to admit his mistakes. Since Roronoa had taken my sword and bested me in a duel, I have been considering this. I had been considering this for a long while, but now I needed to draw a conclusion.”

Damian bowed at the waist.

“I apologize for trying to kill you and for being cruel. There is no excuse for my actions. I understand that I must prove moving forward in my actions that I will be better. My conduct toward you was unbecoming of me as a Wayne, as Robin, and as a warrior.”

Oh wow.

He really never thought he would get a sincere apology.

Also, the bowing was making him feel deeply uncomfortable.

“Okay,” Tim said. “First of all, don’t bow to me. Second of all, apology accepted. And lastly, I apologize as well for the whole list debacle. I wasn’t doing well when I made it, but that’s no excuse. Dick’s been a good Batman for you. And you’ve been a good Robin. I do wish we handled that whole mess differently, but…”

He shrugged. He appreciated the apology and that Damian had swallowed his pride to deliver it to him. But, yeah, he was going to take a wait-and-see approach with this.

“We can’t change the past. Or, well, we can, but then we have a whole new mess of a timeline, and that’s just a headache.”

“Would you?”

Tim blinked.

“Not sure,” he said. “I mean, if there was a way that I could make sure Jason didn’t die, or my friends’ temporary deaths, or my parents’. Or Bruce and the whole timestream thing. And I could do all that and still be Robin and still be a Straw Hat? Sure. But time is a series of dominoes, and I don’t think there’s anything we can really, truly change there without not becoming the people that we are. It took a while and a lot of pain, but there was a lot of joy as well. Because I like who I am now.”

Tim was a hero, even if he liked to think he was pragmatic. He was the type to, as Luffy would put it, share his meat with the world, even to the detriment of himself. There would always be a part of him that would want to help people in need. Of course, he wanted the best for those he had lost. Of course, he didn’t want people he cared for to be in pain or to be gone. But he was also a pirate, and pirates were selfish. And he loved his life as it was.

He was free.

“You are very odd, Drake.”

“You can call me Tim,” he said.

Damian scrunched his nose. Tim snorted at the sight.

“Or Timothy.”

“Timothy, then,” he turned to leave. “I shall take my leave now.”

“I’ll make sure Zoro gets your sword back to you,” he called, seeing Damian nod before leaving.

He shook his head as he picked up the box.

Well, that just happened.

Sanji, of course, was the best cook in the entire Blues and the Grand Line, but Brook had to admit that Alfred’s food was a close second. The ramen that the man had made for lunch was hearty and satisfying with a lovely, clean broth and meat that melted in one’s mouth. Truly, it was a sensory delight for the taste buds.

Metaphorically speaking, as Brook did not have a tongue anymore. Though he still had the sensation of taste. Devil Fruits were just odd like that, and if he didn’t go with the flow of his skeletal existence, then he would have cracked a long time ago.

Cracked like his skull, yohoho. Skull joke!

Now that lunch had been finished and cleared away with light refreshments (dessert) placed out, the main question was what to do for the rest of the day?

Usopp, Luffy, and Chopper were plotting a massive game of tag this afternoon. The lovely Cass had introduced them to something called Super Soakers, which, while getting them wet, did not get them wet enough to trigger the Devil Fruit’s weakness of water. So, now, they wanted to play water gun tag this afternoon.

It did sound like a fun way to while away the hours. Brook had figured that Tim, Robin, and Nami had a plan to extract them all from the Manor when the time came. While Gotham was a lovely city, it had an oppressive atmosphere and a thick cloud of smog, as their intelligence officer called it, over it. And frankly, the fact that they had to carry portable gas masks with them had made most of them a bit on the wary side.

Perhaps they were hoping that some of Gotham’s quirks were a mere exaggeration, but no. Their intelligence officer never exaggerated the important details.

But it was time with Tim’s family, Brook supposed, that kept them there. Though even his dear friend looked antsy and ready to move on. The life of a pirate, after all, was one of exploration and change. It disagreed with the stagnancy of Wayne Manor, even if they were in a holding pattern. For the most part, it seemed to be going well, and they were getting fed. And there was so much music to explore here in this world. Oh, he was feeling positively inspired.

“Hey Tim,” he heard Dick ask in a conversational lull. “Do you mind helping me with something later?”

Tim looked up from where he was writing teams for water tag down, “Depends.”

“I inherited some of your old cases. And I’ve been having trouble with one. I was hoping you would have a look.”

Brook knew that their intelligence officer, before all this, was once a fine detective in his own right. He saw it truly in action about, oh, seven months on a cruise ship with a locked door and a dead socialite from a nearby island. Tim had solved in about an hour and gotten a dramatic confession out of the socialite’s former nanny.

Dinner and a show.

He considered his brother, narrowing his eyes as he went through his mental files.

“The Lambert case?”

“Yes,” Dick said as if it were the bane of his existence.

“Yeah. I’ll need to access the cave’s computer.”

“That’s fine.”

Tim pushed the list to Jinbe with a smile, “Take me off one of the teams. I’ll handle it now.”

The crew hadn’t returned to the “Batcave” as it was called since Zoro taught his lesson to Damian Wayne. The musician didn’t like the idea of him going off into what was essentially enemy territory alone.

“We can wait until you’re done,” Brook said. “After all, one shot and I’ll be soaked to the bone.”

Tim laughed at that before standing. He always appreciated it when his crew laughed at his skull jokes.

“Nah, don’t worry, guys. I’ll handle this, and I’ll join you if you’re still playing. Deal?”

The musician watched the intelligence officer go.  If he had a gut, then he would say that it was twisting. But perhaps it was the house.

Even for the Soul King, there was a haunting in Wayne Manor that left even him wary.

“Thanks for doing this,” Dick said, settling down at his equipment bench near the Batcomputer.

The Lambert case revolved around some stolen files from the offices of Lambert, Lambert, and Lambert. The attorneys were triplets, all with the same first and middle initial because their parents hated the world, and while solid lawyers for Gotham, they had a tendency to take over cases for each other. So, figuring out why the files were taken meant trying to figure out which of the identical triplets was the original target.

It was something that Tim loved, but was driving Dick insane. While his younger brother typed in a code for the Batcomputer, he was sitting down and focusing on the care of his escrima sticks.

This was positively nostalgic for him.

Tim was working at the Batcomputer while he did equipment maintenance or training. Dick could hear from his fingers fly across the keyboard. The vigilante could practically see him easily opening programs and considering documents, and what he had gathered.

Something in Dick’s chest panged at the knowledge that this was only happening for a short time.

“Do you miss it?” he asked. “Casework?”

When his little brother got bored, which was often given how his brain was, it tended to lead to him either in an anxiety spiral, solving a slew of cold cases (or attempting to), or deep in an inventing binge. Keeping Tim’s mind occupied was a full-time job in and of itself.

Though his crew seemed up to the challenge, Dick had to wonder about the periods of sailing where they just…sailed. Was he okay? Could he keep himself occupied?

“I assure you. I am getting adequate mental exercise,” Tim replied. “But yeah, I miss having cases like this on the regular. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy my work back home on the Sunny and everything. But nothing quite beats having a case to crack. Every so often, we stumble across something, though. And I—”

Suddenly, Tim was quiet.

Tim’s ears were ringing is what Dick Grayson didn’t know.

It was like the high-pitched whine he heard as he fell through dimensions into his home. The whistling of air and the fear that seemed to induce tinnitus, he was falling, falling, falling.

F a l l I n g.

Tim didn’t want to die by falling.

However, however, his ears were ringing and…

And his heart was a drum.

Not like how Luffy’s heart could be a drum, beckoning and chaotic and wild to all. The drums of liberation were not what was beating in Tim’s chest.

His heart felt like a war drum, pounding out the same note over and over and over again. It was a never-ending rhythm.

Bruce had gotten a sample from his seastone bo staff and was planning to synthesize it.

Stupid. Tim should have been more careful. He knew that Bruce was looking through his things. But he thought Robin sharing about the water weakness would give him something.

Stupid.

Some intelligence officer he was.

The dimensional transport was warm in his pocket. He had swiped it when Dick’s back was turned. Bruce had it out because he was going to…

What?

Follow them?

Try to enforce his rule of law on the world of pirates and Marines, and islands that were still healing from an endless immortal dictator?

Take Tim away from his home, his life, his people, because of what?!

The ringing and the drums made everything feel so much longer than it was.

Or maybe it was his mind. He always did think too quickly, and it made everything awful feel like an endless stretch of time.

His Observation Haki said Bruce was coming into the cave. That’s right, he had left to do a rare mid-day investigative check-in.

The typing stopped.

Dick thought that maybe Tim had figured something out about the case. Distantly, he could hear Bruce come into the cave. He must have finished meeting with his contact.

And…

“What the fuck is this?”

Tim’s voice was deadly still and even. His voice was cold, and his posture perfect. He only did that when he was—

Alarm bells immediately started blaring in his head.

Dick’s head snapped up from what he was doing because something had happened. He looked up at the screen of the Batcomputer and saw that Bruce was trying to synthesize something odd. It was news to him, who frowned and looked at the screen, distracted enough that he didn’t hear their mentor’s answer.

In the distinctive shorthand of Batman, it was a sample of an element from another world taken…

Oh, Bruce, you son of a bitch, it was a sample taken from one of Tim’s bo staffs. He thought that B stopped going into their room to snoop. No wonder his little brother was pissed. This was bad.

This was really bad.

Dick tuned back into the conversation to see Tim stride over to the synthesizer.

He was quietly incandescent in his anger. When he was truly angry, he got quiet and dangerous. Because you never knew what Tim would do when he got like that. And they definitely didn’t know.

This was every inch the pirate that he had become. This was every inch the man who fought alongside an avatar of a god, like it was nothing, who became his spymaster and ran his empire from the shadows.

Tim Drake was a dangerous man.

“Tim,” Bruce said in a warning tone. “You need to stand down.”

With a strength that must have been gained from his five years away, his little brother picked up the synthesizer. His bright blue eyes seemed to glow like light shining through chips of ice.

Dick was rooted to the spot.

He wasn’t scared of his brother, but the weight of his years away suddenly seemed to hit him all at once.

Because this wasn't a Robin anymore. In every inch of that coiled body, he saw the pirate that Tim had become: the King's Shadow. 

“I am not your soldier anymore,” Tim hissed at Bruce. “And I can fight back.”

And he threw the synthesizer right into the memorial display of his and Jason’s suits.

Dick needed to get the Straw Hats before this devolved into something even worse.

He ran for the door.

Chapter Text

Five Years Ago

Tim breathed out as he stood before the Chief of CP-9, Spandam, on the Bridge of Hesitation. He was crouched before Robin like, well, like the hero he once was. Robin, who had screamed to the world that she wanted to live. Robin, who wanted to be rescued from this place. Robin, who deserved to be a hero in this moment. Finding the tunnels had been a blessing. Lucci was so distracted by Luffy that he hadn’t seen the tactician slipping by him.

Everyone else was so loud that it was easy to forget him.

That was the point.

He stared down the snivelling coward of a man before him with only hate in his heart: cold and burning like the deepest freeze of winter.

Yes, hate was a great word to describe Spandam. Though some of it was borrowed from his home. This man, who had the Joker’s voice, arrogance, and some of his sadism, but none of the madness or, honestly, the brains. Much as he despised the Joker’s very existence, he was, in his own insane way, very smart. Was this a possible life that man could have lived?

Did he see an echo of the Joker in Spandam?

He still hated him because of what he had put his friends through, even Franky. The older man was still slightly on Tim’s shitlist because of what happened to Usopp (who had forgiven the cyborg), but he was a great asset on the train. And, well, he cared deeply about his Franky Family, his adopted family, and them. So, yeah, Tim hated Spandam as a person who was wholly independent of that clown bastard back home.

The echo was just like adding sriracha to your eggs.

Not that it existed here, but Sanji’s chili sauce was even better, so no big loss.

Either way, he promised Franky he wouldn’t break the CP-9 chief’s lower half. And the man was here to hold him to his vow. But he was going to make sure that he couldn’t talk again. He could do the man the courtesy while he pulled himself out of the sea.

(Usopp was handling the Marines from a distance, and he was so proud in a bittersweet sort of way for his friend. Though the pride was a bit muffled by the cold and churning anger in his gut.

See? Tim wanted to say to him. You were never a burden. You were never less than. This is where you shine.)

He slammed down his bo staff, hastily tipped with some sea stone from all the way back in Alabasta, down onto Funkfreed’s head. The elephant wailed at that as it transformed back into the cutlass, which Tim kicked away from the trembling man. He smiled as he executed his plan.

Thank you, Cassie, for teaching him how to lasso. It got around Spandam perfectly, allowing Tim to reel him in from his Marine guard.

So they could, you know, chat.

He could see the hesitation on the Marines' faces as the CP-9 was very much in the fire. Cowards, weren’t they? Though Tim wasn’t sure what sort of expression was on his face in that moment. He didn’t care as he looked down at his quarry.

Spamdam didn’t have any clever remarks now, did he?

Pathetic.

Weak.

“There is no way you can win now,” the captured man said, clearly showing a lack of intelligence. Perhaps whatever acid that turned the Joker into the Joker messed with his intelligence as well? Or, well, there was a saying about madness and genius going hand in hand, wasn’t there? “Your captain has made an enemy of the World Government. You will be chased to the ends of the Earth. There’s a buster call in progress. I’m the hero of the world! Me! Not you, pirate!”

Tim crouched down in front of him.

He hadn’t said anything, which seemed to unnerve his quarry even more.

“I’ll kill her!” the leader of CP-9 declared, crawling toward Robin, even in his tied-up state. It was more of a pathetic wriggle. “The world will be happier when she’s gone.”

In that instance, Tim’s anger turned hot: an explosion of pure magma and desert sand. The rage he felt as he died in the desert, with the truth confirmed of Bruce’s return, and the need to live in order to spite all those who doubted him.

He wanted to bash Spandam’s teeth in, but he considered the option for a second. Aspersions of his character and intelligence aside, the Chief of CP-9 had to be smart, right? He had to be clever to get where he is in the world. He merely twirled his staff. No. Looking into those eyes, he knew what kind of person this pathetic mewling man was.

He knew people whose deaths wouldn’t be mourned: the Joker, for one. People wouldn’t shed tears over Lex Luthor or Ra’s al Ghul. Spandam wouldn’t be mourned: not by his agents, not by the Marines. Maybe his sword, but how long is the memory of a Devil Fruit?

What a sad legacy to have left behind.

Tim wondered if the other man knew that.

Robin was like none of those people. She was good. They would miss her if she had died.

She was Tim’s friend, and, like all of his friends, he joined in on a declaration of war for her.

“No,” the tactician said, standing up. “It won’t. The world would be so much colder without Robin in it. She is a light, despite the darkness. She is a blessing and a friend. We missed her without her there.”

He heard a small hitch of Robin’s breath behind him, like she wanted to cry. Maybe it was because he said her name instead of Miss Nico.

Echoes of the multiverse.

Robins were the light in the darkness.

She was the light of knowledge to whatever the World Government wanted to keep in the dark. That’s why they wanted her dead.

“Why are you doing this?” demanded Spandam, hands splayed on the ground so very temptingly despite the rope pinning his arms together. “Where are you even from, you little freak? There was nothing on you! Nothing! There is always something, so that means you are NOTHING.”

Tim slammed down his bo staff on the CP-9 leader’s right hand, making it crunch and crack. The man screamed. Yes. That was rather the point.

Scream for me.

He wasn’t a hero here.

Owens and Z were fountains of information about all the ways you could kill someone’s spirit without killing them outright. Pru never liked that sort of talk. Not because she was squeamish about such things, but she just never saw much of a chance when a bullet to the head was more direct. Or, well, multiple bullets to the head anyway.

Sure, they would have killed him on Ra’s' orders. And Pru was working for the League again, so he didn’t really trust her as far as he could throw her. But you could never be picky about what you could learn from others.

Lesson one?

Go for the hands.

“Because Robin is ours,” he said, once the man’s screaming died down. “And I’m here now. It doesn’t matter where I was before. It doesn’t matter who I was before.”

He was a hero before all this.

And Tim did believe in justice, but not the sort of justice the Marines preached and said like it would absolve them of their subservience. He believed in justice for the people who needed a hero, justice for those whom the world had given up on, justice for the wrongly accused.

Justice for the oppressed.

Maybe he is a hero, but he will be known here as a pirate.

It didn’t matter who he once was.

It couldn’t be here.

“So, you’re just some runaway from nowhere who nobody cares about following a deluded fool who thinks he can be the King of the Pirates!” Spandam spat out, gathering his composure despite the pain. Maybe it was adrenaline? Or perhaps Tim should hit harder; people were quite hardy in this world. He laughed, he laughed that laugh. “He will never be King! You’re going to die here!”

Aw.

How cute.

It thinks it can break Tim.

“Luffy will become King of the Pirates,” he said calmly because he was so angry now that it flowed into serenity. He was furious about this whole situation, about the fact that buster calls even exist, about what happened to his dear friend who was just a child. She deserved better from the world. This sort of corruption, blatant disregard for the sacredness of life itself, set Tim’s teeth on edge.

He was a hero. He is a pirate. But those two things worked in concert with each other in this moment.

And, in his heart, he knew that Luffy would do anything in order to make the world fair for them. Or, at least, make sure that they would be together and they would have each other. That was a better treasure than anything that the world could give them. It was a selfish sort of fairness that his captain believed in, and Tim found himself believing it too.

Deep in that part of his heart that he wouldn’t look into until he was separated from his crew, he found that sort of selfishness much more appealing than any of the Bats' teachings.

He grinned, and Spandam flinched.

“And I will do everything in my power to make him King.”

Tim slammed down the staff on his left hand, which definitely crunched, making that high-pitched shriek echo. He considered it with a clinical detachment.

Was this what the Joker would sound like if he could scream?

If he felt fear?

The pirate leaned down to the shaking man’s ear and whispered in it.

“A little weasel like yourself would know nothing about that.”

And then, like a snake watching to strike, like a bird flying down to get its prey, Tim attacked decisively. He was going to make sure Spamdam could never laugh that hideous laugh or speak those poisonous words again.

He couldn’t silence Joker in his world, but he could silence that monster’s voice in this one. Oh, he was going to live. He was never going to be a martyr to the cause of the World Government.

He was just never going to speak again. Owens had a trick about paralyzing vocal cords that he was more than ready to try.

Tim had chosen his side in this world.

He had zero regrets.

(His bounty poster read: “Kingmaker” Drake Timothy, bounty of 70,000,000. His profile was half in shadow, half in the light, one eye glaring at the camera. It was a fitting picture.)

Three Years Ago

Watching Kaido be pulled out through the roof like a toy that had gotten awkwardly stuck between the couch cushions made Tim laugh. It was somewhat hysterical in the crumbling Skull Dome of Onigashima. He didn’t like to laugh when he felt like he was going insane due to the obvious, to him, connotations to the Joker back home.

But it was a weird day, and he had helped in so many fights, and he was pretty sure he was concussed, and it was just…

It was such a funny sight.

“That was Straw Hat, right?” Kid asked again to Law, who looked equally poleaxed. (He was so cute when he had that expression, Tim’s probably concussed brain thought.) Chopper was sobbing happily into Nami’s arms that he was alive.

“Yeah,” Tim said, leaning back, face flushed from probably both laughter and exertion of multiple fights. Who knew? Not him. “That was my Captain.”

He didn’t care what anyone said now. Someone was definitely fucking with how the Gum-Gum Fruit was perceived by the world. If it even was the Gum-Gum Fruit. Tim didn’t think that Paramecia Devil Fruits, even awakened, could do what Luffy was doing right now. He had an inkling, given how, in the grand scheme of things, relatively recent the Devil Fruit encyclopedias he found seemed to be.

Someone was hiding something, and Tim thought his captain was in the middle of it.

(Tim has had thoughts about Luffy’s fruit for a while. This just confirmed it.)

An angel, Tim thought. Luffy looked like an angel: all wreathed in white and full of an angry kind of joy. Or a joyful kind of anger. Or something about laughing in the face of death, of danger, of…

Hope, maybe. It was hope: not a delicate gossamer thing, but caked in blood and burning white and ready to break the hold of a dictator over a land. Was that how that tweet went? He screenshotted it on his phone, but that hadn’t worked for years. But the sentiment had gotten him through a couple of darker times.

Well, he didn’t know what, but it was amazing. It was a miracle that Luffy was alive because he had died. He didn’t ping on Tim’s Observation Haki. And his heart started to beat on its own, a drumbeat that felt like when Kon would take him flying. His heart soared as Luffy came back into the world once again.

(Tim tried to ignore the connotations of that, between Luffy and Enel. Luffy’s ability to produce miracles from nowhere, to save a country because someone had fed him, well, it seemed so very…deus ex machina, didn’t it?

God in the machine.

Tim wondered.)

He needed to see. He wanted to see. He had to see this through. Everyone else was too injured or distracted or handling the other million fires. But this? He knew in his bones that someone had to bear witness to it. He knew one of the crew had to see it with their own eyes. This was important, truly important.

He had to bear witness.

And he could still move under his own power. He could still see. He had to see so that they knew what Luffy could do now with his Awakened powers.

He was sore and battered, but he still made the leap, shot off his grappling hook, and climbed through the hole. No need to bust out his hoverboard.

“What are you doing, Tim?!” Law demanded after him. He could hear the note of worry in his voice. It was sweet, he thought, that he worried about him. The older man was so concerned that he didn’t even realize that he called Tim by his first name.

If the situation weren’t so tense, then he would have said to hell with their dance and kiss Trafalgar Law then and there.

(“You’re the only one that listens to my plans,” Law grumbled after they met up following Whole Cake Island.

“I’m sorry you had to miss me so much, querido,” Tim said, chuckling as the older man flushed.)

“I have to see,” he said, looking down through the hole. “I have to know. I’ll be careful.”

The surgeon looked deeply disgruntled, but he always looked like that. It was why Tim enjoyed teasing Law so much. It was fun to get him to break the act, crumble a wall, and blush when he was flirted with. Still, the intelligence was pretty sure the other captain was counting down the minutes until the alliance was over. He turned away to focus on what he could see.

He had to bear witness.

One of them had to bear witness.

Tim climbed out on the roof and looked up and up and up.

Luffy, backlit by the sun and laughing, laughing joyfully, laughing like this was the best fight in the world. His muscles blew up as he yelled, “Monkey D. Muscles! Muscles!!!”

Tim snorted as he fell back onto the roof of the Skull Dome to sit and watch.

Luffy was amazing.

He was a goddamn cartoon now.

He could only watch as his captain spun Kaido around, made the world bend to his will, and laughed. His intelligence officer laughed alongside him. He felt like he was seven years old, watching Saturday morning cartoons that they were allowed to watch in one of his boarding schools. All he could do was laugh with his captain as he turned the King of Beasts, the Strongest Creature in the World, into a jump rope.

He knew the battle was won.

And he knew he was right about Luffy’s Devil Fruit.

(There was a mystery here. Tim couldn’t wait to figure out what it meant.)

Three Years Ago

Tim looked down at his body as the battle raged around him with a sort of clinical detachment.

It was Laugh Tale.

 It was the final battle.

They knew the truth of the Void Century and of the world and of everything.

And he was pretty sure that he was dead. Honestly, he never even expected to live past seventeen, so he got two more years than he thought he would have.

“You are,” a kind voice said from behind him. Did he voice it out loud? “And you’re not.”

He turned to see a woman whom he had met before, though he didn’t remember meeting her when he was alive. You only remember meeting Death when you were Dead. Not when you were living, it doesn’t work like that. Well, in some cases it did, but the world always had exceptions to the rules, not rules to the exceptions.

Death always had black hair, and she always dressed as a goth with a silver ankh around her neck. But it was hard to nail down her age, her race, her anything. But she was kind, Tim appreciated that when they met before.

Death should be kind.

After everything you would go through in Life: the highs and lows, hardships and calm days…

Death should be kind.

“I’m surprised you’re here,” he said, glad to see her familiar shifting face. “I thought you’d change between universes.”

She laughed, a sound that reminded Tim of falling asleep on Kon’s leg in the Titan’s Tower surrounded by friends and loved ones. Or hearing the murmur of voices of his crew through the other side of the door.

“I figure you’d like a form you’re more familiar with,” Death said patiently. “And I’ve met you twice before. You are well and truly mine to take when your time comes. Three times and it’s a tradition.”

“But it’s not now,” he said. “My time.”

She shook her head.

“No.”

Alright then, he could work with that.

“Do you mind if we sit? I’ve been on my feet for like the past three days.”

Death sat down on a rock, and Tim joined her.

All around them, the battle raged on. Robin, in a break of her normal composure, was screaming for Tim in her demonic form. He hoped he didn’t traumatize her too badly. Chopper was performing CPR on him, calling for Franky, who was fighting through to get to him. They pieced together an AED or something equivalent to it after leaving Elbaf.

He hoped Law wasn’t around. He didn’t deserve to see that.

Looks like Tim would be the test subject.

“This is better than the last time I found you,” Death said idly. Her gaze was soft even in the middle of the war zone. “Look at all these people who love you.”

He nodded. Even with them all sobbing and looking upset and a war raging around them, they still loved him. He still loved them.

Look how he has become so loved.

The last time he saw Death was in…

“Iraq?”

“Mmmhmm,” she said. “I’m surprised you only lost your spleen. Though I guess when you’re a man like Ra’s al Ghul, you hire the best.”

“Do men like him piss you off?” he asked because he was curious. “People who think they’ve escaped you.”

Death hummed thoughtfully.

“I think it’s sad,” she said. “Death is a part of life. It’s what makes life worth living. If you can keep on living without end, then all it becomes is boring. Not always, of course, there’s a lovely man that my brother Dream and I had made immortal ages ago, who still has a joie de vivre. But men like Ra’s al Ghul, they do not understand me, so they fear me. And it is the fear that poisons them. Fear is a chain that imprisons people in its grasp until they can never break free.”

Tim looked at the dark sky, looking for Luffy’s glittering sunny light in Imu’s darkness.

“Or they ask for help. Things are less terrifying when you ask for help.”

Her dark eyes twinkled, or are they blue now? But they glittered.

“You have grown up.”

“I think I feel safe enough to ask for it again with them,” Tim said. “Can I ask you another question?”

Death grinned, unoffended by him.

“All the questions you like,” she said. “I’m just here to keep you company.”

Oh.

Good.

He’d like to get some answers out of his near-death experience. Maybe his soul would remember it and nudge him in the right direction.

“The Will of D,” he said, eyes following Luffy. “Does it have to do with your group?”

“Yes,” she said. “And no.”

Death laughed when Tim gave her a Look.

“It’s as straight of answer as I can give,” she said with a shrug. “If I could give you a better one than I would. But it’s all horrifically complicated and would give you an even bigger existential crisis than the one you are due to have when you rejoin the land of the living.”

He narrowed his eyes.

So, they presented as the Will of D here, then.

“Multiversal echoes?”

“Close enough,” Death said. “We present in different ways depending on the universe, but we are still us. Even when we aren’t us. Your captain, for example…before my sister became Delirium, she was Delight. I look at him and I see her.”

He didn’t know what to say in the face of that kind of ancient grief, older than anything that Tim could conceive.

“I’m sorry,” he said, even though the words probably weren’t enough. “Does it hurt?”

“In the way that old grief can: a pang of longing and a joy of remembrance.”

“I’m surprised that he doesn’t remind you of Dream.”

She laughed.

“Oh, bless him, your lover reminds me more of Morpheus. No. No, your captain’s D is Delight. Because what is freedom without delighting in all that surrounds you?”

Well, he couldn’t really argue with that then.

“Am I Nika’s?” he asked. “Are we all his now as well?”

“Nika is Luffy, but Luffy is not Nika,” Death said, simply. “But you are all his, and you are all each other’s. What comes next will be very interesting with you all running around.”

Tim hummed thoughtfully at that.

She reached out her hand and tousled his hair. Her black nail polish was speckled with silver flakes, making it glitter like starlight. “You’re a good kid, Tim Drake. Can I ask you a question now?”

“Sure,” he said. It was only fair, after all.

“If we went right now, would you regret anything?”

Tim looked up at the light of Luffy in the sky. The sky was swallowed by darkness. He could hear Zoro’s roar and Robin’s screams for his name. Jinbe was summoning water with his Fish-Man Karate, and Sanji was practically like a shooting star. Franky was kneeling down so Chopper could shock Tim’s heart. Nami was summoning a storm and shouting for Luffy. Brook’s chaotic music spilled over the battlefield and mixed with the drums of liberation as their allies swelled around them. Usopp had felled an evil giant. Tim could practically feel the tremor.

It was amazing and wonderful.

And if he died right now, then he would die with no regrets. He would feel sad that he didn’t get to see the Bats again, that this was how he left the crew. But he lived his dream with them.

Was loved by them and loved them back.

He had no regrets.

And then Luffy in Gear 5 was there.

He stared down at Tim’s body, which was cradled in his arms. The intelligence officer could hear the Drums of Liberation in his ears.

He looked up and looked at Tim and Death.

His eyes drifted toward Death.

“Monkey D. Luffy,” she said warmly. “Hello again.”

“You were there,” he said to what had to look like air to the others. “In Wano.”

“I shouldn’t’ve been,” she admitted. “But I was curious. I wanted to hear the drums.”

He pulled Tim’s body closer with a stubborn and childish tilt to his chin, imperious as the King that he will be shortly.

“You can’t take Tim. I need him.”

“I’m not,” Death said. “But what are you going to do, God of Liberation?”

Luffy’s eyes snapped toward him.

“What does Tim want?”

The former hero smiled, “I want to live.”

“Then live!” Luffy roared, pressing Tim’s chest to his own. He could feel the Drums in his very soul, in his essence, pulling him toward his body. “Get up and fight!”

His captain’s Conqueror’s Haki exploded over the battlefield.

And Tim’s heart had started again.

He opened his eyes and said, “The Sun!”

Everyone near was crying, and he wanted to comfort them, but Tim had to move. It was a battlefield, and he had a plan. Chopper, in Heavy Point, had his hands on him. But he was looking at Luffy.

“The sun?” Nami asked incredulously. She was holding Robin, who seemed to be crying tears of relief, no longer in her Devil form. Her eyes were red, and she was wrapping a bandage around her arm. “Tim, you died. Don’t worry about the Sun.”

“You need to go get it,” he told his captain seriously. “Moral boost or whatever. Grab the sun and make it rise. Chase away the darkness. Let there be fucking light and all that shit!”

Luffy stared at Tim before his grin grew even wider. He laughed, bright and bubbling.

“Tim is the smartest,” he said, a wet smacking kiss to his intelligence officer’s cheek. He was giggling as he bounced into the air. “I’m gonna go get the sun.”

Watching as Luffy went into the sky, Tim slumped back into Chopper’s grasp.

And a moment later, day broke, chasing away all the darkness as the Sun God pulled up the sun with a fishing pole into the sky.

“Let there be light,” he murmured as shouts of joy and laughter echoed across the battlefield.

The war turned with the tide of the Dawn.

Two Years Ago

“Would you go home?” Luffy asked one night. “If someone had a way home for you, then would you?”

The question caught Tim off guard. He had officially gotten a clean bill of health from Chopper and was resuming his watch duties on the Sunny. His captain had slipped after him when he went onto the deck in the middle of the night to relieve Robin from her shift.

He could lie because he did make a choice. But they won.

They had all the time in the world now. He could refocus his efforts to find a way home. He could say yes.

Tim couldn’t make himself say it.

“I don’t know,” he said, going for honesty instead.

Luffy seemed to appreciate his honesty, wrapping an arm around Tim and pulling him close. He hugged him so tightly from behind. The captain buried his face into his crewmate’s neck.

Ah.

He understood now. Monkey D. Luffy had a vulnerability around being abandoned. Tim had theorized it, recognizing a reflection of himself in his captain. But this felt like confirmation.

And he had gone and died on him in Laugh Tale briefly, but still.

“It doesn’t do well to dwell on things,” he said instead, pushing back the straw hat to rest his cheek on soft hair. “You promised to take me to the end of the Grand Line, and you did. And the way home is lost to me. The multiverse is endless, Captain. I could spend a thousand years dedicated to figuring out a way home, and I may not even find it again. It needs a beacon.”

“If Tim does want to go,” Luffy said. “It’s okay. I want him to live his dream.”

A family that would never leave him.

People who would love him.

Tim closed his eyes and spoke the truth.

“I don’t think I can find it with them,” he said. “I love them, but I’m hurting. I love you all and I’m free.”

He slid out of Luffy’s embrace and fell to a knee.

“Tim!”

“Luffy,” he said, grabbing his captain’s hand and pressing his head against it. “If you want me to find a way to take you to another universe, then I would do it. I would do anything that you asked of me without hesitation. I would give you anything you wanted because you gave me everything I had ever dreamed of without even trying. Yes, I have regrets back home. But I will always choose to come back to this crew. I promise you that only Death herself can separate us.”

Is that dumb? He wanted to know if it was. It didn’t feel dumb, at least.

Saying it to Luffy felt right.

“Tim shouldn’t kneel to anyone,” his captain, his King, the closest thing to a god that Timothy Drake would ever believe in, said. He pulled him to his feet with hard eyes. “He is free. Free people don’t kneel. But I’m glad Tim wants to stay with us.”

But he still didn’t know. Tim had a duty to the Bats, to Gotham.

“Promises are important,” he said instead, not letting go of Luffy’s hand. “I needed to do that for me. Not you.”

He had to choose between the Straw Hats and his home.

Something in his captain’s gaze softened at that, seeming to understand that Tim needed to make that vow. He laced their fingers together, swinging their clasped hands like a little kid.

“Can I stay with you for a while longer?” Luffy asked.

His dream had won, and would continue to win: every single time.

“Of course, Captain.”

Was it so wrong to want to live it?

Three Years Ago

“And that’s all at the end of my dream,” his Captain said, closing his eyes. Well, that wasn’t a big surprise, was it?

Tim sat back as Luffy let his true dream be known to the other Straw Hat Pirates and shook his head fondly. He could hear the laughter and disbelief. Usopp just seemed really annoyed for some reason.

“You’re gonna let him say that, Tim?!”

He shrugged, “If anyone could achieve his dream, then it’s Luffy. I’m honestly not that surprised. Besides, the most childish of dreams are often the most important. Or, well, the most precious, maybe? You’ve carried it in your heart for so, so long. It’s ingrained into you, even if you grow up and forget about it.”

Okay, maybe he was projecting a little bit.

His dream once was to have a family who loved him and who he knew loved him. Because he doubted his parents’ love. He doubted the Bats’ love. He wanted security, more than anything else. He’s living his dream ten times over.

“You’re insane,” Usopp said.

“Probably,” Tim scratched the back of his neck. “Between Gotham harbor and the sheer amount of chemicals in the air, plus the various toxins, I’d be surprised if my brain chemistry was normal.”

“Besides,” he said as if talking about the weather. “Whether we agree or not, we’re all still gonna help him achieve it.”

The sniper threw up his hands like he was done with Tim and life in general.

Tim made a kissy face at him instead.

Usopp flipped him off.

Everyone looked at each other, but they nodded.

Luffy was helping them live their dreams.

They could do nothing less for him in turn.

One Week Ago

“Do you regret it?” Luffy asked, the first night that the Straw Hats were all in his universe. Everyone else had fallen asleep together in the blanket fort that they had made. Tim took the moment to really…

He needed a minute, which was all he had gotten when his captain had followed him outside, where Tim sat, staring at the sky that he had known his whole life.

The sky didn’t have as many stars as the ones back home did. Tim missed being able to see the Blue Planet’s version of the Milky Way every night. There was no true light pollution there, not like here.

Back in his old world.

Home world?

Home universe?

It’s funny in a sad way how this wasn’t home to him anymore, wasn’t it?

“We already had this conversation, Captain,” Tim said with a smile. They were in the outdoor area outside of the West Wing Ballroom.

He was home.

He didn’t know how to feel about that. 

“I don’t like Bat Guy,” his captain said, plopping down next to him.

Yeah, that wasn’t a surprise. Given that Bruce seemed to have declined with Tim’s “disappearance”

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t. What a mess.”

He should have figured that Luffy was summonable as an avatar of a god or like the concept given flesh, or whatever. Tim never even considered that his home universe would have books from The Blue Planet. Though maybe that was naïve.

“It’s not Tim’s fault.”

He narrowed his eyes at his captain, who was leaning next to him with his hat shading his eyes in the moonlight.

“My job to consider all possibilities.”

“This one is weird even for us,” Luffy said, blowing a raspberry. “Tim knows now. So he can prepare better later.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Is the crew gonna be safe here?”

Gotham was always a dangerous place, but Tim knew that wasn’t what he was being asked. The real answer was that he didn’t know.

“We stick close,” he said. “I can get us out…”

But.

He wanted…

“You want to talk to them?” Luffy asked.

“I never thought I would have an opportunity to see them again,” the intelligence officer said quietly. “Captain, I need to do this. I can’t, some of them are my family.”

It was a miracle: well and true. And he didn’t even believe in such things. All of the miracles that he had seen had been made at the hands of others or his own. And if things were really bad with Bruce…

Well, Tim had had that plan in the works for years. The Batman Nuclear Option, he just had to prep it.

He was shocked out of that line of thought at his Captain’s dark eyes in his face. He was concerned, which wasn’t a big surprise. He was also concerned. This was already stressing him out more than Tim would ever want to admit.

“Tim only needs to say if he needs help,” Luffy said instead. “His family, his choice.”

The knot in his stomach lessened at that.

“Yes, Captain,” he said, resting his forehead against Luffy’s. “Thank you.”