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“Penny One.”
“Please tell me you’ve found him.”
Red Robin clenched the edges of his cape. The limp body at his feet was barely touched by battle. You didn’t need to fight your opponent if you could undo them instead, unravel them at the seams. League. “I found him.”
“… Master Tim?”
“He’s not dead.” Red Robin knelt on the kevlar-lined cape, the cape that had hung on Bruce’s shoulders first, then Dick’s, then Cass’s. All dead in this very suit. “There’s a heartbeat.”
“How bad is it?”
Red Robin stared at those vacant eyes, at the smaller frame, and swallowed bile. “I think they took away the effects of the Pit.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.” Red HATED not knowing. “I’ll take some samples once we get him stabilized. Hopefully---”
“DAMIAN!!!”
Red whirled on his heel, heart in his throat. “Dick?”
Nothing. Nothing but dark, empty rooftops. Nothing but a---
Red tripped over something that should have been alive. He pulled his bo staff, ready to fight, and looked back. One glassy blue eye stared up at him from the shattered lenses of a cowl.
It hit Tim like a bullet train. He remembered the grief like it was yesterday, but the shock--- the sudden fracture in reality, the cracks splintering apart like the end of everything in the worst possible way--- the horrible emptiness dropping away in his stomach. He felt those like it was today.
“Dick.” He dropped to his knees, gasping for air. His knees were instantly soaked in blood. “Dick… please. Please. Don’t… Don’t do this. We have to talk first. We…”
The body didn’t answer him. The glassy eyes didn’t move.
“Dick.” Tim pulled at the neck of his suit, frantic, and pounded the body’s chest. “Dick, wake up, dammit!!! I haven’t said I’m sorry!!! I haven’t told you how--- how much I--- I haven’t--- WAKE UP!!! DICK!!! PLEASE!!!”
“It’s too late,” a quiet shadow whispered. Cass stepped into the moonlight, blood dripping from her chin, and smiled sweetly. “Rest.”
“No---” Tim lunged awake. “NO!!!!!!”
The bedroom echoed in silence. No dead bodies. No pools of crimson blood. No dark rooftops. Nothing.
Tim’s feet hit the floor. He panted sharply, grabbing the collar of his t-shirt, and stumbled to the door. He was soaked with sweat. He couldn’t breathe. Where was Alfred? Where was Jason and Dick and---
His feet stilled at the top of the stairs as he rubbed his thumb over the inside of his wrist. Dead. They were dead, all of them, and he had found their bodies. He remembered because when reality had been too much, when the sleep deprivation and grief and universe-hopping had stopped making sense, had blended together like a fever dream he would probably never wake up from, he’d had a number tattooed into his skin. It was a complicated number with a fancy scrawl; the coordinates of the exact place he’d broken beyond repair. The place he’d found his eldest brother’s body.
You couldn’t read numbers properly in a dream. He was awake. He was awake and sweating and gasping for breath at the top of the stairs in a house that wasn’t really his.
Had he finally found it? Had that been a dream, too? Had his search come to an end?
He forced his feet to move, to carry him down one step at a time. At the bottom, he grabbed the banister until his head stopped spinning. Then he shoved off again, pushing stubbornly toward the only source of light in the house this late at night, the kitchen. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t---
Jason looked up from a jar of peanut butter, blinking owlishly. He paled instantly. “Tim.”
“Real,” Tim said quickly, because he knew how this worked after two weeks--- Or had it been three? “Where… Where’s…”
“Whoa.” Jason stood up, scraping his stool back against the tile with a bump-bump-bump. “Easy, you’re gonna---”
Tim’s ears rang. He grabbed wildly for the counter, but his feet weren’t cooperating with him anymore. Is this how I die?
“--- got you,” Jason’s voice filtered back in. He sounded like he was underwater. (He sounded panicked.) “Ace, go get Alfred.”
“No…” Tim tried to sit up, panting. (Had Jason seriously caught him? The Jason who refused to look at his face? Why hadn’t he let Tim fall?) “Dick, where’s Dick? Is he okah… Uuuuuuuugh…”
Strong hands wrapped around his shoulders, holding. “Put your head between your knees. Breathe.”
Tim laughed hysterically, barely making any sound as he followed instructions. “Embarrassing.”
“Hardly. I threw up all over Bruce’s lap once.” Jason rubbed firm circles into his back. (His hand shook.) “Breathe.”
“I’m scaring you.” Tim pinned his head between his knees, wheezing. His body was hot and cold and hot again all at the same time. “Sorry… I just…”
“Do me a quick favor.”
“Anything.”
“Shut th’ hell up. Dickie?!”
“Who is it, who’s hurt?”
“Get your fat ass over here.”
“I don’t have a fat…” Dick’s voice trailed off as he entered the kitchen. “Oh Tim…”
Tim sobbed sharply, feeling like his ribcage was splintering apart and stabbing his lungs and digging into his heart, and reached. Dick met him halfway, grabbing Tim’s hands first, then his arms, his elbows, his shoulders. Someone cupped his heated face. “It’s okay. We’ve got you. Breathe.”
“Stop---” Tim’s head jerked back in a panicked spasm. Jason’s hand shot out, blocking his skull from the sharp edge of the island. “Stop telling me to BREATHE!!!”
“Okay… okay, okay, shhhhh…” Dick propped his legs around Tim’s curled body, pulling him into a firm hug still huddled on the floor, a hug that didn’t belong to him. “Okay. I’ve got him, Jason.”
Tim knocked his forehead against Dick’s shoulder, sobbing. It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t tracking you, I’m sorry I was too late, I’m sorry I f-found you instead of B-Bruce…”
“I’m getting Alfred,” Jason’s voice shook, so far away, and then he was gone.
“He’s coming right back,” Dick soothed in Tim’s ear, answering the involuntary whimper, the pitiful begging that Tim couldn’t stop tumbling from his lips. Gentle touch pressed him against a steady heartbeat, forcing his face into the crook of Dick’s neck. Dark… warm… safe. Something not-his, not-his, not-his--- “I’ve got you.”
Tim squirmed uncomfortably. “Gettin’… snot on y’…”
“Do you want me to crush you into the cold tile?”
“No?”
“Then stay put. Bit of DPT. Just try to match my breathing.”
“I’m… I’m so sorry…”
“Tim. I forgive you.”
Tim broke apart, sobbing for real into Dick’s shoulder. The breath came easily when it was preparing for tears. He just couldn’t do this. He couldn’t take comfort that wasn’t his.
“I’m sorry,” he kept crying, and “I know,” Dick whispered anyway. Gentle fingers threaded through his hair, stroking, stroking, stroking. “I wasn’t fast enough…” and “I forgive you.” “There were so many things I needed to say…” and “So say them.” “I should have saved you. I should have been there.” and “I’m glad you weren’t. I’m glad you didn’t see that. I’m glad you got a chance to move on.”
Tim cried and cried and cried. Then, when his body physically ran out of strength, when he lungs felt bruised with every breath, he finally began to give up. His tension dropped slowly into his brother’s (not his brother) hold, exhaustion taking over. He could breathe.
“There he is.” Dick rested his chin against Tim’s crown, sighing. “I’ve got you.”
Tim sniffled miserably. He should be standing up, probably. Apologizing. Filing this experience away in the Embarrassing Breakdowns Never To Repeat folder. All he could do was slump like a stunned bird.
Dick rocked ever so slightly from side to side. A self-soothing motion, it seemed, and Tim opened his mouth again, but what could he possibly say? Hey, I’m really sorry I keep reminding you of your dead brother. That is not demure of me. I promise I’ll be better for you. Can I still stay? No… Those were too pathetic.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Dick finally whispered.
Tim’s mouth clicked shut immediately. Nope. He was not ruining this. Tit for tat an’ all that. (He wasn’t the only one hurting here, was he?)
“I’m sorry I missed your check-in.” Dick squeezed tighter, pressing Tim’s face against his chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t look sooner. I’m sorry you were a--- alone. I’m so sorry.”
Tim swallowed past the lump in his throat as he felt steady tears drip into his hair. What would Other Him have said? Nothing? Everything? He would have been angry, that’s for sure, but he also would have been sad. He would have recognized their pain. Genuine loving care, regard, value--- Those he wasn’t so good at, but pain? PAIN he could read. Other Him wouldn’t have missed the way Dick’s voice cracked. The way everyone in this house, even Jason, avoided the word “died”.
“I forgive you,” he whispered. There was no other choice, really. Other Him would have felt the same way. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Dick’s breath caught. “It was.”
“It wasn’t.” Tim wriggled free enough to lean back, glaring tearfully at Dick’s twisted face. “You can’t hold yourself responsible for other people’s actions, you just can’t. Every evil has free will. That’s what makes it evil. Bad choices are choices, and they’re choices you didn’t make.”
Dick stared at him with a haunted look, an empty look that Tim almost wanted to slap off his face, but there was also a growing softness there. I’m doing something, Tim thought desperately. The words don’t mean nothing. Touch doesn’t mean nothing.
Dick cupped Tim’s cheek, gently thumbing away his tears, and released a shaky laugh. “Look at us. We… we match.”
Tim shoved him a little, grumpy petulance peeking through the mortification of post-breakdown exhaustion. “You made me, ugh. Now I look like a sickly Victorian orphan.”
“What, like you didn’t before?” Jason quipped sharply from the shadows. He hovered just outside of the room, arms crossed, and let Alfred walk ahead. He looked angry. (Was he angry? Anger was a secondary emotion. What landmines did Tim need to avoid, what triggers? Wait. Maybe he was the trigger. Maybe…)
“Stiff upper lip, Master Tim,” Alfred said gently, an encouragement more than anything else. He stooped with a straight back to pat Tim’s shoulder, then moved briskly to the stove. “Tea?”
Tim struggled clumsily to his feet, clearing his throat. “Yeah--- yes please.”
Dick stood up, too, and wrapped his arms around Tim’s torso from behind. He rocked for a moment longer, clinging, and Tim allowed it. Dick needed this, he reminded himself. Dick was the sleeping lion best kept calm. His anger burned himself as much as it did anyone else.
“I love you,” Dick whispered faintly. “So, so much.”
Tim blinked his eyes against a fresh wave of tears. He knew the words weren’t meant for him. He also knew what Other Tim would have had the courage to say in return. “I love you, too.”
Dick dropped a kiss into Tim’s hair. Jason turned around, punched the wall, and left.
“Tim.”
Tim raised his eyes from his sketchbook, automatically tucking his knees closer to his chest. “Hey.”
Bruce sat across from him, sighing deeply, and combed a hand through his hair to mess up the product keeping it stiff. “Damn Zoom meetings…”
“Nothing gets done properly unless it’s in person,” Tim agreed quietly. He closed the rough sketch of his old camera, precious few belongings he hadn’t taken with him across the multiverse, and paid attention. He could tell when Bruce, any Bruce, wanted to talk. “What can I help with?”
Bruce slumped against the back of the couch, disconcertingly casual, and raised one sharp eyebrow. “You’ve been sneaking out at night.”
Tim’s throat closed. Had he been informed that he was to stay at the manor until he had “regained his strength”? Yes. Had he followed those instructions? No. He hadn’t exactly fought alongside the other Bats, though. He’d just tailed them a little. Followed in their footsteps in case they needed backup.
He couldn’t be too late. Not… not again.
“You don’t trust me,” he croaked aloud. “I get it, but I can’t… I can’t stay on the sidelines. You know that.”
“I do.” Bruce nodded thoughtfully, leaning forward on his knees. “You aren’t being told to stay home because I don’t trust you, Tim. I know what you are capable of.”
Tim swallowed thickly. “I’m not him.”
“No, but you aren’t entirely different. I can see three accustomed fighting styles alone in the way you hold your shoulders. I can tell you’re used to patrolling solo based on the way you watch reflections, shadows, and your own blind spots. I can spot the micro expressions that you are adept at hiding from everyone else. Do not insult my intelligence. I know my own when I see it.”
Tim struggled to breathe through the conflicting emotion bombarding his senses. What was that supposed to mean? Was it a compliment or a threat? Where did Bruce get off saying… saying such vulnerable…
“You are not in trouble,” Bruce said gently, too gently, like he was talking to a twelve-year-old instead of the scarred adult before him. “I want you to stay here for a few weeks. Genuinely. You can’t tell me you don’t want a break, need a break from that cowl.”
Tim scowled to conceal the tremble of his lip. He wasn’t as good at masking these days. He refused to think about why that was. “Maybe.”
“In the meantime, I will design a few new suits for you. Just drafts really, but when they’re done, you can take your pick. You will be in charge of the physical modifications. You need a bit of time to rest, to focus on something other than the mission.”
Tim laughed sharply. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”
Bruce leaned forward, capturing Tim’s hand in both of his before Tim could pull away. “Listen to me.”
Tim met Bruce’s eyes, just as startled as he was afraid. This… this was unfamiliar territory. He didn’t know what to do with this.
Bruce cleared his throat before speaking. “I know it is hard to believe, but you are more than the pain that defines your broken spirit. I was. So was Jason. Human beings have remarkable capacity for growth. I believe that. I believe that for you especially. You have never been one to stagnate.”
Tim’s breath came a little easier, but his voice squeaked against his will. “How do you know that?”
Bruce smiled sadly. “Experience. And… proof. You’ve grown already in the two short weeks you’ve been here. You move a little easier. You eat meals with us now. You taught yourself to work around our training simulator. You feel safer, don’t you?”
Tim looked down, blinking furiously, and tried not to pay attention to the way his hand fit so perfectly into Bruce’s. He nodded instead. It was no use denying the feeling of safety. Belonging wasn’t his, and he didn’t deserve it, but finally having a semblance of familiarity at his back was comforting, insulating in a way none of the other universes had been.
A way his own universe didn’t.
Bruce’s hands squeezed. “Stay in for three weeks. Please. You deserve to breathe a little.”
“I can’t sit still.” Tim looked up. “I can’t do NOTHING, I can’t.”
“I’m not asking you do.” Bruce finally pulled his hands away, thank God, and presented a tablet instead. “I need to rework the patrol routes, the training system, all of it. I want you to join us. You know yourself best; you can work into these routines with no oversight, I’m sure. This isn’t to keep you busy; it’s something I really do need your help with. Then, too, is the training itself. You should work a bit with everyone on the list in order to be sure of each strength, weakness, and necessary improvement. It will benefit everyone involved to be as prepared as possible before working together in the field. Teamwork takes work, and you’ve been alone for a very long time. You aren’t used to it anymore.”
Tim nodded stoically. Bruce was right. It still felt like babying, like kid gloves applied to a monster Bruce wasn’t aware had hidden under his roof, but it was true nonetheless. “I need to optimize my performance with your team before joining you in the field.”
Bruce sat back, leaving the tablet with Tim. “Indeed. In the meantime, you are welcome to man coms. You can familiarize yourself with the details that way, coordinate our efforts, and organize the new patrol plans as soon as you formulate them.”
Tim blinked rapidly, trying for the second time in as many minutes to hold back tears. How did Bruce KNOW?
Another awkwardly cleared throat preceded the answer. “I understand the need to obsess. To control the outcome so that it… Whatever it is… does not happen again. Especially not to everyone else. To the ones you care about.”
Tim looked up, unable to stop the pleading edge in his shaking voice. “You know better than anyone.”
Bruce sighed solemnly. “I do. Which is why I want better for you. I have made sure everyone stays in pairs for the time being, and check-ins are every thirty minutes now. Trackers are always active on top of new protocols that dictate you call for help as soon as your current case reaches Code Three. We have safeguards in place to keep ourselves protected while you rest.”
Tim’s face burned with shame. “You don’t have---”
“I know,” Bruce interrupted immediately, standing to leave. “but I want to. You are worth overpreparing for.”
Tim bowed his head again, knocking his forehead against the tablet. Fuck. “I hate you.”
“I know. Be downstairs for training at eight. Cassandra is benched while her ankle heals up, and your continued presence here can, I am sure, prevent her from rejoining us soon enough to break her neck.”
A smile tugged at Tim’s hidden face. Babysit his overly headstrong sister? Yeah… he could do that. (He could protect her this time.) “Sir yes sir.”
“I think Jason’s still mad.”
Cass’s toe caught Tim’s shirt as he dodged her kick. She clicked her tongue at him, hopping lightly on her injured foot. (Yes, he had tried to dissuade her. No, she had not agreed. Yes, she would absolutely sneak out if he didn’t at least distract her with a spar.) “Focus.”
“Sorry.” Tim tossed his shorter side bangs from his face, smirking bitterly, and reentered his ready stance. “Seriously, though, you can’t tell me you don’t see it.”
Cass threw five punches that Tim summarily blocked before pausing for breath, cocking her head. (God, she was so similar--- Nothing was different. Nothing.) “Afraid.”
Tim threw a few of his own punches, grunting. “Afraid of me?”
Cass blocked him, then tipped his weight over her hip when he inevitably dropped his guard, throwing him onto his back. He stared at the ceiling as he waited for his breath to return, stunned.
Cass popped into his vision upside down, smiling sadly. “Afraid of facing the demon.”
Tim frowned up at her, barely managing a squeak. “What?”
“Tim was killed by Jason’s personal enemies,” Steph called from the other end of the cave, ruthlessly scratching items on a list. “Cannon fodder in an endless grudge match. Naturally, it’s all his fault.”
Tim swallowed thickly, allowing Cass to help him up. Not everyone had been happy to see him. It was refreshing, really. This told him that the care--- however misplaced--- was genuine. “I’m sorry.”
“Why? You didn’t kill him.” Steph straightened up, sighing, and gathered an armful of files on her way to her ride. “I can see that thought forming in your genius brain. No, I don’t hate you. Frankly, I couldn’t care less where you are or why. Just don’t step all over sacred memories on your way.”
“Ouch,” Tim muttered as she zoomed from the Batcave.
Cass shrugged sympathetically. “Sad.”
“Yeah.” Tim fell into another ready position, trying to ignore the burning shame that ate away at his stomach. “How long’s it been?”
Cass threw a few punches, hurt revealing itself in how sharp her movements had suddenly become. “Eight.”
Tim blinked rapidly, trying to block. “Months?”
“Yes.”
“Damn. Where were you?”
Cass completely froze, wide brown eyes fixed unblinkingly on his face.
Tim raised his hands immediately, at a loss. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean… I was just…”
Cass looked away, shoulders slumped, and nodded. “I understand. Hong Kong.”
Tim gnawed at the inside of his lower lip. How much was he allowed to push? (How much SHOULD he push?) “When… When did you find out?”
Cass hugged herself, eyes still down, and shrugged. “One.”
Tim’s expression fractured, he could feel it. “A whole month?”
“Busy.”
“That doesn’t explain--- Geez, you don’t wait an entire month to let someone know about… about something like that.”
“Water under bridge. I don’t care.”
“You do care, though.”
Cass fixed him with a fiery glare, all sharp edges. “I don’t.”
Tim slowly inched into her personal space, well aware that he was misusing his doppelganger’s face to do this without getting punched, and slowly closed the smaller vigilante in a hug. “It’s okay to care. Not… Not everyone gets to be the good guy or the bad guy. Sometimes there’s just… casualties.”
Cass melted into his hold like warm butter, shaking with a silent sob. Her arms stayed pinned between them, and her head eventually came to rest on his shoulder. Tim could feel her tears soaking his t-shirt.
It made him furious.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “Not your fault.”
“Not yours then, either.” Tim squeezed her, more sure of himself now. Even this was yet unchanged. Cass had always been easy to hug, to hold. “I would never try to… to replace…” Except that’s what I’m doing, isn’t it?
“I know,” Cass breathed against his neck. Her arms finally wound out to encircle his back. “Okay… to take up space.”
Tim choked immediately. “Hey, no fair.”
Cass shook with quiet laughter this time. “Silly Timmy. Okay to care.”
Tim scowled behind her back. What was it with each member of this family bulldozing past his walls? Geez. “I would never try to replace him. I know I can’t. But I’m… I’m here. I’m here, ready an’ waiting.”
“Yes.” Cass snuggled firmly against him, a perfect fit, and gave his back a playful poke. “We need you just as much.”
Tim didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t.
Never in a million years had Tim anticipated being a morning person, but as of following Bruce’s instructions to train at the manor for now, that’s what was happening. It was unexpectedly nice to get up this early, to dress in a thick hoodie (Cass’s) and running shoes (Dick’s) and jog out into the grounds with a collapsed bo at his side. The air was still chilly, a crisp snap that hadn’t been chased away by the peeking sun, and the sky was a deep dark blue. The atmosphere was… peaceful. Empty. It was Tim alone against nature as far as the eye could see.
Well… almost alone.
Tim stopped short, suddenly wary. He hadn’t run into this problem before; Damian, to his knowledge, usually meditated up in his room. Today, however, the kid was sitting on the back patio facing the east, back straight, hands perfectly still. He didn’t appear to have a weapon, but that was likely misleading, and besides… any good Robin knew how to turn everyday objects into weapons. Just to his left was a cabinet of Alfred’s gardening tools, and in front of him was a row of new flowerpots.
Tim edged sideways toward the edge of the patio, aiming for grass. If the kid was focused deeply enough on his inner world, maybe Tim could inch away without incident. He was good at not being noticed. Just a few more feet…
Damian sniffed without opening his eyes. “You needn’t be afraid of me.”
Tim stopped stiffly, bristling. “I’m not afraid.”
“Good.” Damian stood smoothly, brushing his black tunic, and fixed Tim with a perfectly impassive stare. “Because you needn’t be.”
Tim stopped himself. He had no idea how this Damian had… interacted… with Other Him. Maybe Tim’s hostility was misplaced. (Right, I’ll just turn that off real quick. Easy as pie.) “Great.”
Damian observed him passively for a moment, too uncomfortably zoned in, before stooping to pick up a lead. “Ace and I shall accompany you.”
Tim’s eyebrow inched up his forehead. “I’m good, thanks.”
“I insist.” Damian opened the back door, letting the very excitable dog barrel past them. “Someone should watch after you until you grow accustomed to this world’s differences.”
Stop, abort, backtrack, Tim’s brain shrieked desperately. “Uh… It’s really okay. Again. Thanks.”
Damian walked by without a second glance, sniffing importantly. “Come along then.”
Holding back a very heartfelt groan, Tim trudged after. Of all the gorgeous mornings to get stuck with the Bat Brat… “You’ve got better things to do than protect me from wet grass.”
Damian glanced back. Something… awful… flitted briefly across his face. Then he turned around again, plodding on. “I think not.”
Tim glanced back, unnerved. Surely that micro expression hadn’t been for him. Was he making everyone see ghosts? He’d thought Jason was the only person still looking at him like that, but apparently…
Damian wasn’t an annoying companion, to his credit. He seemed to have the same respect for the early morning peace that Tim did, and he walked with his hands behind his back, disturbing the surrounding nature as little as possible. Ace bounced between them and the nearby creek and the scattered trees like a squirrel on crack, but other than that… all was quiet.
TOO quiet, Tim’s brain supplied, but he shook it off. He really didn’t think so. This wasn’t some… some prank. Probably. Definitely. (Well, he had his bo staff, anyway…)
Damian finally hopped off the trail when they reached a huge tree with sprawling roots near the cliff, scampering easily up the bark with no discernible footing. “Come. You can take the best sunrise pictures from up here.”
Tim followed a little more gingerly, taking his time. He did have his phone on him… “Your Tim liked taking pictures, too, huh?”
Damian perched on a long branch near the top of the tree to look down, bright green eyes peering eerily through the almost-darkness. “I have painted many of his masterpieces. He had a gift.”
Tim kept his gaze on his hands as he climbed. This was not the reaction he’d expected. Emotionally prompting was supposed to clam the kid up, not get his voice to go all soft like that. “I’ll bet.”
Damian looked away as Tim passed him up the trunk of the tree. “He is dead to the public eye, of course, but formulating a new identity for you will not be difficult. Father has recently perfected our masking technology. You may design your face as you wish. I shall help you, if you like.”
Tim paused just below the crown of leaves, blinking. “You said dead.”
Damian turned a scowl up. “Yes. He is dead. I failed to protect him, to assimilate him back into the family, and now he is gone. Don’t be daft.”
Tim glared back. Assimilate? What the fuck was Damian even---
His heart dropped to his stomach. Oh. He felt guilty. Damian felt guilty for how he’d driven Tim from the family. That was the only explanation.
Damian hurriedly looked down again, voice stiffening as one’s did when they’d said too much. “I missed my chance to be kinder, that is all. I hope to rectify my mistake in my treatment of another.”
Tim’s eyes burned. What the actual hell was happening right now? Damian was showing real emotion? Damian was engaging in feelings? Damian was being… sincere?
A quiet sniff snapped Tim from his thoughts. Mortified, he pushed up through the last layer of leaves. Dami didn’t need him observing oh-so-rare tears in his grie---
Oh. Oh WOW.
Damian popped up next to him with a soft rustling after about fifteen pictures. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Tim hummed his agreement, fiddling with the settings on his digital camera to get as many unique captures of the rising sun as possible. Its glory was… “Magnificent.”
“Yes. He thought so, too.”
In another life, Tim might have been insulted. Angry, even, at being compared so constantly to someone else, someone better. All he felt now was an aching sadness.
Risking the possibility of losing it, Tim snuck his arm around Damian’s shoulders without looking. A halfhearted squeeze followed. “I’m not him…”
“I am aware.”
“but I’m gonna try.” Tim kept his eyes on the horizon, watching the water sparkle on the edge of the bay. “I’m gonna try for you.”
Damian’s head rested briefly on Tim’s shoulder. “Yes… and… and I for you.”
“Can we talk?”
The biker threw his head back with a heavy sigh, stopping by his motorcycle. “How did you track me?”
Tim glanced behind him at the cozy little coffee shop, the hole in the wall at the edge of Crime Alley that his own Jason had always loved to frequent as Robin for homework study sessions, and shrugged. “A lucky guess. Listen. I wanted to ask---”
“I’m not interested.” Jason swung onto his bike, shoving his helmet on, and revved the engine. “Go home before you catch a cold.”
Tim darted in front of the vehicle. His thundering heartbeat had nothing to do with the fact that he was about to be run over. “Wait.”
“Argh.” Jason flipped his visor up, fixing Tim with a glowing green glare. “BEAT it, kid, before I---”
“Do you want me to go home?” Tim blurted out.
Jason leaned forward on his handlebars, squinting. “To the world where literally everyone else is dead, you mean?”
Tim nodded mutely, too afraid to speak. He’d told himself that he wouldn’t really ask it, wouldn’t really mean it, except he had, and he did, and that was the terrifying part. If Jason wanted him to leave… he would leave. He really would.
Jason finally removed his helmet, huffing. His breath made an icy cloud in the air. Winter was coming. “Lemme get this straight. You tracked me to a highly personal hangout spot by no coincidence whatsoever to ask me if I want you to hop back across all twenty-two thousand seven-hundred universes to possibly the worst one of all… because I’ve been avoiding you?”
Tim clutched his book bag tighter, swallowing. In hindsight, he probably could have sent a text. “Sorry.”
Jason’s eyebrows shot up beneath his white hair. “For asking if I want you to return to a suicidal headspace or for jumping in front of my bike?”
Tim licked his chapped lips. “Both?”
“Christ give me strength…” Jason swung off of his motorcycle, stuffed the keys into his pocket, and trudged down the sidewalk. “Come with me.”
Stunned, the only thing Tim could think to do was follow. Jason walked quickly, passing old stores and good-smelling sandwich shops and all manner of pedestrians on his way. This place was further along than Tim remembered it being back… back on his own world. Hood clearly had tight reins on Crime Alley. Everyone was going about their business with hardly a glance over their shoulder.
Jason stopped seven blocks out, dropping a ten into the jar on a vendor’s cart. “Two.”
Tim blinked as he was handed a steaming drink. He dared a sip. Hot chocolate. It warmed his hands just as much as his throat. “Thanks?”
“You’re welcome.” Jason jerked his chin across the street. “What do you see?”
Tim’s gaze darted from one end of the block to the other, scanning for anything at all unusual. Nothing… Just a bunch of apartment complexes, a tiny laundromat, and some garages for rent. Nothing out of the ordinary for this place. “I seeeeeee… a safe neighborhood?”
Jason scoffed into his hot chocolate. “Don’t placate me. Just tell me what you see.”
Tim’s spine straightened. “A laundromat, some apartments, and a few garages. One of them is locked up, likely not in use, and there’s one alleyway.”
Jason squeezed his eyes shut, taking a shuddering breath. “That’s the spot. That one garage.”
Tim zeroed in on the garage with a padlock around the entrance. His stomach flipped. “Really?”
“Why do you think it’s not in use? Hood killed ‘em.”
Tim swallowed hard. “All… All of them?”
Jason downed the rest of his burning drink in one. “All of them.”
Tim looked down at his cup, picking restlessly at the edge of the paper. What was he supposed to say to that? He was suitably scared if that was Jason’s intent, but something in his voice suggested… not that. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Jason rested a heavy hand on Tim’s shoulder, tone gruff. “I want you to understand. I don’t hate you.”
Tim couldn’t help a private smirk, bitter against his will. “Steph said that, too.”
“Steph isn’t carrying around the direct blame for this.”
Tim looked up, opening his mouth.
“It WAS,” Jason cut in, pressing a finger to Tim’s lips. The sudden steel melted as soon as he met Tim’s eyes, dissolving into overwhelmingly obvious grief. “It was my fault, kid. My house rules, my enemies, my battle to fight. Beaten to death. Just like I… I asked him for help without giving direction. I just needed recon. Tim chose to confront the problem head-on instead.”
Tim swallowed thickly. “His… his choice.”
Jason shook his head mournfully. “You don’t get to decide how I feel about this. You weren’t there. I’m the one who opened the door to a body bag on the doorstep.”
Tim almost choked. The regret was beginning to hinder his breaths. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“You want me to feel comfortable.” Jason squeezed Tim’s shoulder. “But Tim, nothing will make me comfortable. Not after that. It’s not on you; it never was. You need to be here. There was no other option, right? You said so yourself. You wouldn’t have bothered going on if you hadn’t had this hope.”
Tim looked away from the unbearably vulnerable eye contact, nodding. It was true. He still believed it. If not for that one sliver of a chance… “I’m not trying to replace him.”
“I know you’re not. I know.” Jason drew Tim into an unexpected hug, resting his chin against Tim’s beanie, a Black Bat beanie that Cass had bought him as a housewarming gift. “Nothing about this is gonna be easy, but you have… you have to let me take it at my pace.”
Tim slowly eased, glancing up at Jason’s grizzled chin. “You’re not mad?”
“Not at you.” Jason squeezed tighter. “I can’t help it, kid. When I look at you…”
Tim snuck his arms around Jason’s ribs, squeezing back. “I get it. I do.”
“I know. You’ve lost more than I would ever be able to survive, and I’m not comparing those losses. You’re handling yours. Let me handle mine. Someday… someday soon… you’ll get to be a part of that process.”
Tim pressed his face against Jason’s shoulder, hiding. “… Really?”
“I want you here, Tim. I do. I think… we needed you… just as much as you needed us.”
“I’m a mixed bag.”
“Not for some. Cass, Dick, Bruce--- They took to you like ducks to water. They were ready for another Tim, another chance, but they respect your autonomy as someone new. Me? I’m not ready for that. Not yet.”
“You’ll let me know when you are?”
“I will, and I expect you to be there the second I do, because when I’m ready to call you ‘brother’, I will not be waiting to act on it.”
Tim laughed shakily. Something was loosening in his chest, a small knot in the tangled bundle of guilt. Something that felt a lot like hope. “Okay.”
“You belong here. I mean it.” Jason finally pulled away again, swiping fiercely at his eyes. “How could we let it happen again? Doesn’t matter that you’re from somewhere else. Bats of a feather an’ all that. Lean into it. They’ll be there.”
Tim hugged himself, trying to hold the spark of warmth in his chest forever, and nodded. Now that he was hearing it firsthand… he understood. He really did. “I’ll wait for you.”
Jason smiled softly, and for one agonizing, heartbreaking moment, his distant green eyes looked past Tim to the ghost beneath. “Please forgive me.”
Tim summoned a sad smile, bracing himself as overwhelming peace flooded his every thought. There was nothing for it, really. Nothing but the honest truth. “He does.”