Chapter Text
Location: The JLA Watchtower, Earth Orbit.
Time: Three Months Later.
The observation deck was silent, save for the hum of the Time Sphere cooling down.
The heavy, chrono-steel door of the sphere hissed open. Steam and temporal radiation vented into the air, instantly scrubbed by the Watchtower’s filtration systems.
Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern (Hal Jordan), and Booster Gold stood back, giving space to the figure stumbling out of the machine.
Bruce Wayne fell to his knees on the metal grating.
He wasn't wearing a cowl. He was clad in the tattered, scorched remains of the Archivist armor he had worn at the Vanishing Point—the End of Time. The Omega energy that had threatened to turn him into a universal bomb had been siphoned off, but the toll on his body was immense.
He gasped, tasting recycled air for the first time in what felt like millennia.
"Bruce!"
Dick Grayson, his own Batman cowl pushed back, broke the line. He rushed forward, grabbing Bruce’s arm to steady him. Alfred, who had been beamed up for the arrival, was right beside him, placing a hand on Bruce’s shoulder.
"I’ve got you," Dick said, his voice thick with emotion. "You're back. You're safe."
Bruce blinked, his eyes adjusting to the lights of the Watchtower. The memories of the Stone Age, the Witch Trials, the Pirate era, and the End of Time were finally settling into linear order.
He looked at Dick. He looked at Clark and Diana.
His eyes sharpened. The disorientation vanished, replaced by the terrifying clarity of the World's Greatest Detective.
"The coordinates," Bruce rasped, his voice raw. "Rip Hunter couldn't lock onto my signal at the Vanishing Point. The entropy was too high. Someone... someone sent a beacon."
Bruce looked around the circle of heroes. He saw relief on every face. But he also saw the one face that was missing.
"The beacon was precise," Bruce said, standing up on his own. "It cut through the Omega radiation like a scalpel. It was a mathematical constant."
He looked at Dick.
"Where is Tim?"
The relief in the room evaporated. Superman looked down at his boots. Diana crossed her arms, her expression pained. Alfred stiffened.
"Bruce… Dick started, pulling off his cowl. He looked exhausted. He looked older. "We need to get you to the med-bay first."
"Where is Robin?" Bruce demanded, his voice echoing off the bulkheads.
"He's gone, Bruce," Dick whispered.
"Gone where?" Bruce stepped forward. "Did he go back to Gotham? Is he hurt? Is he--?" Bruce choked on the sentence he couldn’t finish as fear spiked through his heart.
"We don't know," Dick said. "He’s been missing for three months. Ever since he delivered the data that showed us how to find you."
Dick reached into his utility belt. He was wearing heavy, thermal-insulated gloves. He pulled out a small, high-tech data drive.
It was coated in a layer of perpetual white frost.
"Tam Fox brought this to the League ninety days ago," Dick explained, offering it to Bruce. "She said Tim saved her from Ra's al Ghul. She said he broke them out of the Cradle, neutralized an entire squad of mercenaries, and gave her this."
Bruce took the drive.
It burned.
It wasn't heat. It was cold. Absolute, biting cold that stung his bare skin even through the calluses. He stared at the object. The frost didn't melt against his body heat. It seemed to deepen, drawing the warmth out of both his body and the air.
"It stays at zero degrees Fahrenheit," Superman added softly, floating closer. "Cyborg confirmed there’s no mechanical reason for the constant freezing temperature. I tried to warm it with heat vision. Hal tried to contain it in a construct. The laws of thermodynamics just seem to be broken around it. It refuses to change temperature."
Bruce stared at the object. "This isn't technology."
"No," Diana stepped in. "We called Kent Nelson. Dr. Fate examined it last week."
Bruce looked up sharply. "And?"
"He said it’s not radiation. It’s not a meta-gene reaction," Diana said, her voice grave. "Fate confirmed the residue is magic from a powerful Homo Magi."
Bruce looked back at the drive. Tim? His boy who believed in spreadsheets and evidence and had a love of technology. A sorcerer?
"Fate said the energy signature is unprecedented," Dick continued. "He called it Order Magic. But he said it tasted 'wrong.' He said it wasn't the Order of Nabu. He said it felt… new?"
Dick looked at the stars outside the viewport.
"Tam said Tim changed, Bruce. She said he looked like a knight made of blue glass. She said he looked at Ra's al Ghul and didn't see a person… he saw a math error."
Bruce squeezed the frozen drive. He felt the hum of the energy, cold, precise, and terrifyingly lonely.
"We’ve looked everywhere," Alfred added, his voice breaking. "Satellites. Magic tracking. Zatanna scoured the astral plane. He is simply… not there."
Bruce looked at the frost on his fingertips. He realized the magnitude of the sacrifice. Tim hadn't just found him. Tim had traded places with him.
"He's not missing," Bruce whispered, a look of horror dawning on his face.
Bruce looked out at the black void of space, realizing that his son hadn't just run away.
"He's hiding."