Chapter Text
When Tim woke up, both the supers were already out of bed. They sure took Clark’s up with the sun gig pretty seriously, (Even though he had recently experienced Kon‘s terrible sleep schedule first hand).
He rubbed his eyes and stretched, rolling onto his back and blinking slowly. Damian was right, after a good night's rest he felt much better than before. Mind you the stress were differently still there, just less world ending then it used to be.
Watching Kon bustle around their temporary shared living space was a bit infuriating to Tim. How could he be so productive this early in the morning? What did Tim need to do to be that productive? He sighed, stretching in place and swung his legs off the side of his bed and got up; ready to start his morning routine.
Routines were something Tim always stood by, along with checklists and calendars. There was something about doing the same thing almost every day that gave him a sense of peace, a quiet sense of familiarity. And Rao knows he could use some of that.
He flowed through the steps with ease. Head to the bathroom, brush his teeth, take a shower, lotion, the whole shabang. (He was his mothers son, after all). He stepped back into the main room as he toweled off his hair, making sure it was somewhat dry. The last thing they needed was another sick person to take care of. Speaking of sick people…
Damian lay quiet under the blankets. Too quiet, worryingly so. Usually he was up at five o‘clock sharp, ready to conquer the day. He‘d go through his training, carefully stretching and preforming yoga to keep his body in tip top shape. Seeing him still sleeping this late into the morning was an uncommon sight. The only other Tim had witnessed it himself was when Damian was hit with one of Poison Ivy‘s Pollen recipes, if he recalled it knocked him out on the spot and he slept for fourteen hours straight. By Demon Brat standards, that was a long time.
Tim inhailed sharply. Wait, Ivy‘s pollen! Those goons could have gotten their hands on some! His heart raced as he flipped open his laptop, bringing up every file they have of Isly and her attacks. Report after report, some containing symptoms and different effects.
PALAMA ISLY | POISEN IVY:
USES HOME BREWED POLLEN MADE BY HER PLANTS TO STOP ENVIRONMENTAL DISTURBANCES AND DESTRUCTION. CONSIDERS HERSELF AN „ECO TERRORIST“.
MOST RECENT AND DANGEROUS POLLEN CAUSES ILLNESS, WE‘VE YET TO DISCOVER A CURE. ORACLE IS WORKING AS HARD AS SHE CAN WITH THE HELP OF SPOILER AND BLACKBAT.
SYMPTOMS INCLUDE:
-FEVER
-EXHAUSTION
-LACK OF ENERGY
-WEAKNESS
Tim cursed. Too vague, the symptoms were too vague for him to be sure. On top of that, this pollen didn’t have a cure! So even if this was really the reason Damian was so out of it, they couldn’t even do anything to help! He didn’t have the right equipment to try and develop a Supplement of some kind in this world. Maybe if he were in the Batcave…
No, don’t even think about that. It’s not an option and it might never be one again if you don’t pull yourself together.
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to regulate his breathing, nearly jumping when a hand made its presence known on his shoulder. He jerked up, looking to the side only to see Kon standing behind him, looking a tad sheepish.
„Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,“ he laughed nervously, retracting his hand. Tim almost missed the comforting weight. He cleared his throat, relaxing back into the chair.
„Did u need something?“ he asked cautiously, leaning back and tipping his head up. From this angle Kon looked very oblong, the picture made him snicker.
„Not really. Just telling you me and Jon are gonna go out again today,“ Kon explained. It was then that Tim realized the coat and scarf he had on, and when he glanced at where Jon sat in bed beside the sleeping Damian he was dressed up as well. He couldn’t help but wonder what they did while they were out, but it was none of his business.
„Alright, have fun. Don’t get yourself killed or whatever.“
„Awww, it’s almost like you're worried or something,“ Kon teased, waggling a finger in Tim’s face. He bat the appendage away with burning cheeks, practically forcing them out the doors. Kon laughed while the door closed, nudging Jon with his shoulder. Jerks.
„Where are they going?“ Asked Damian, he hadn’t noticed the kid had woken up.
„Not sure,“ he replied, „they were out all day yesterday as well.“ Tim yawned and rummaged through his backpack for some clothes. As of now they each only had one extra pair, and soon they‘d have to either find a way to do laundry or get a new wardrobe. He pulled a new shirt on and stepped into the same pair of jeans from yesterday.
„Where are you going?“
„Out, it’s not good to stay cooped up in here. If Kon‘s taught me anything it’s that a good breath of fresh air can help you think clearer.“ Tim explained. He pulled both his arms through the sleeves of his jacket, then rummaged through the bag sitting by the foot of the bed and pulled another out. He tossed the second pullover at Damian.
„Put that on.“
„Why should I?“ Damian sounded genuinely confused, so Tim let his rude tone slide. Just this once.
„You can’t stay in bed all day, that’s arguably worse than me staying at the desk. We both need to take a walk. Just don't trip or anything, and don’t forget your sling.“
„Sling?“
„Yes, I asked Kon to get you one while you were out. Don’t ask how he got it, I have not the foggiest idea. I’m pretty sure you have to have some kind of prescription." Tim mumbled, perplexed. He haden‘t actually thought to hard as to where would sell Kon all these medical supply’s, and he better not ask least he jinx it.
„If you say so,“ Damian grumbled.
Eventually, they were both prepared to leave and exited the hotel doors. They rounded around the corner and made their way around the block, nice and simple. Tim didn’t want to stray too far from the HQ, just in case something were to come up and they wouldn’t be around to help.
„So,“ Damian said casually, „any specific reason we’re going on a stroll? Besides the whole clearing your head thing, I know you can’t abandon a case for long.“
„You got me. We’re actually going to go look for clues, in the park we first arrived here in. I’ve got this theory you see, that everything sent here from our dimension has to stay relatively close together. Otherwise, Konner, Jon, or yourself could have ended up in any number of other places. There had to be a reason we were sent to Gotham.“
„Maybe it’s because we were in Gotham when we were shot at?“ he scoffed, raising an eyebrow at Tim. Tim just smirked back, he had hoped Damian would ask that question.
„Well, if that was the case, then shouldn’t we have been in the same broken down warehouse we fought Joker in?“ that seemed to put Damian at a loss for words. Tim one, Pest zero.
„Your facts… check out.“ Tim frowned, that was it? That was all he had to say? The Damian he knew would insist Tim was wrong in some way, grasping onto fibers of doubt routed into his plans. He stopped the walking and inspected Damian closely, bringing a hand up to his forehead.
„Damian… are you okay?“
„I’m fine,“ he slapped Tim’s hand away. „Just tired. Nothing you can do about that. Now, are we looking for clues or not?“ Tim rubbed at his stinging palm, very narrowed in on Damian's flushed cheeks.
„Have it your way then, but if you ever need to turn around or you‘re feeling weak please tell me.“ Tim was frustrated, to say the least. He was frustrated that Damian had such little self preservation that he would insist on continuing. To be fair, Tim was the one to suggest he come along, so he couldn’t even say anything about it! Great work Tim, hope you enjoyed having a younger brother while it lasted.
Eventually they made it to the park. It was relatively the same as Tim had remembered it being two days ago, give or take a bit of frost on the leaves. Their footsteps crunched under twigs and frozen flowers as they crossed the fields, scanning the ground for clues.
It felt like they had been at it for hours, and Tim grit his teeth. His hands were freezing and his cheeks were pink, his breath fogged as he exhaled and his sock was wet from the condensation. He… desperately wanted to be home right now. Back up at the manor, tucked into his bed with a warm cup of Alfred’s famous tea beside him.
Maybe he’d work on a case, or simply read the book he’d started and might never finish. Tim hit the side of his head softly with his fist, using the cool breeze to remind himself where he was. He had to concentrate, if his theory was right it could lead to their first major step in finally getting home.
Just as he was about to call it a day, Damian came running up to him.
“Timothy! I found something. Look at this.” He opened his closed fist, revealing a crumpled piece of soggy cardboard. Tim was unimpressed.
”Damian, now’s not the time for your tricks, we need-“
”No!” He scowled, huffing slightly as his eyebrows pinched together. “You’re not looking close enough. See here, on the edge.” Tim did as he was told and analyzed the faded colors closely. His eyes widened in shock. What Damian currently held in his hand could be mistaken as nothing else, it was a corner of a Batburger’s burger box.
”Oh my god,” Tim whispered, gently holding the wet board up to his face. “This… Damian, where did you find this?” It couldn’t be a fluke, it couldn't be a coincidence. Batburger didn't exist there, so the only explanation as to why it was there had to have been Joker testing his machine on random objects. If they could find more things from their Gotham, it could lead to just the breakthrough Tim needed to crack this case.
He followed Damian over to a spot clear of foliage. All around the small patch of dead leaves and dirt were objects of varying color, shape, and size. Most notably two small figurines of Batman and Superman only available in the Batburger Unhappy Meal. This was it.
Tim brushed his fingers across the Batman toy, hesitating before picking them both up and putting them in his bag. He carefully took case baggies out and started sealing items as evidence. I wish I had a lab or something to test these in. He sighed.
Eventually he had everything he needed. Tim stood up, cracking his back from his hunched over position and stretching. „Great job Damian,“ he ruffled said boy's hair and snickered as he scowled at him.
„Whatever, Drake. What now?“ Damis asked, ducking his head in an attempt to hide his reddening checks. Tim put him on his good shoulder, then pressed a hand to his forehead to check his temperature.
„Well,“ he frowned, „hotel for you. You’ll never get better if you don’t rest.“
„You‘re literally the one who told me to come?!“
„Irrelevant,“ Tim waved a hand in Damian’s general direction, clearing his throat. „Anyway, yeah rest for you. As for me… I think I’m going to investigate something.“
„Care to share with the class,“ Damian deadpanned.
„I want to investigate the Kent and Wayne families of this world. Coming here might have disrupted whatever plan Rao had for them, and that means they might know something that could help us. I wouldn’t get my hopes up, though.“ Tim thought his plan was fairly decent. He‘d read in a news article that morning that Bruce Wayne was going to appear a charity at 2:30 pm in the Gotham City Mall. It was a fundraiser for victims of war.
Based on this knowledge, he could conclude that the rest of the family would be there as well, give or take Jason. If this world's Jaybin was anything like theirs (or dead, but Tim didn’t want to think of that) then he would do everything to avoid the gathering as a whole.
After a little more convincing (force), Damian finally agreed to going back and finishing healing. Tim had to argue that if it didn’t heal right he may never be Robin again, asking if that was really worth hanging around a mall all day. Tim walked him back, and they both said their ‚see you later‘s‘ before parting ways.
Now, the real mission starts. Tim pulls the hood on his jacket up, pulling it down to cover his face.
He stood out easily in crowds with his scars, notably two thin white lines rising from either side of his mouth carved there by the homicide clown himself. His time as Joker jr. had not been a pleasant one.
Having them made stealth missions harder. There was no normal explanation for them, and his only saving grace was that the public hadn’t known it was Robin who was captured. They thought it had been Timothy Jackson Drake.
Either way, he stood out in crowds. To counter this he usually wore masks or scarfs, which should work for now. Luckily, he always kept some on him. Tim clipped open his sidebag and pulled out a single use black mask usually worn while sick and a pair of sunglasses. Suspicious, yes, but it worked.
Alright Tim, in and out. Gather intel, don’t engage. Don’t let them know you're here. He told himself. The pavement under his feet was icy as he walked, possibly hazardous if he tried to run. He had to be careful.
Fisch-
Something was there. He saw it, from the corner of his eye. A shadowy figure, lurking in alleyways and behind buildings. Tim barely noticed it at first, as it could pass for just another dark patch if he didn’t look closely enough. Once he did notice however, it disappeared.
Shivers ran down his spine, and Tim tightened his hands into fists. Whoever was following him had to have been from his Gotham, there's no other reason why they‘d be stealthy enough to go undetected by Red Robin for who knows how long.
Did they know where the Hotel was? Is Damian okay?
Tim’s breath hitched at the thought, and he stopped in his tracks. He glanced behind himself. Should he go back? Make sure he was okay? Normally the answer wouldn’t be so hard, no; he wouldn’t even need to. Damian could handle Villains like that any day of the week.
However, he was injured. From an evil standpoint, it’s the perfect opportunity to attack your enemies and insure a hasty victory. Tim hit his lip. He really needed the intel this mission would bring, and there's no way any reasonable person with any sense of logic would strike this early.
With his decision made, Tim quickened his pace to the mall. That little kerfuffle took longer than he originally anticipated. Finally, after a little more time than he’d like to admit, he made it to the charity event.
The mall was packed to the brim with people. Reporters, looking for a new front page story, security, keeping said reporters in their line, even civilians gathered around where the Waynes were supposed to arrive. Tim found himself getting nervous. Would they recognize him? Even with a mask and sunglasses, anyone could see he was Tim Drake. The only reason no one‘s pointed him out until now is because the „real“ Tim was supposed to be walking in any second now.
Tim pulled his hood up and stood on the tips of his toes, trying to get a good view over the crowd.
„It’s him! He’s here!“ a Reporter shouted from beside him, making Tim flinch back at the volume. The exclamation caused the others to go into a frenzy, pushing up against security to try and get videos.
„Mr. Wayne, what’s your plan going forward with Wayne Enterprises?“
„Mr. Wayne, how do you feel knowing your biggest rival, Joker Incorporated, is beating you in stock prices?
„Mr. Wayne,“
„Mr. Wayne!“
Lights and noise echoed all around Tim. He had to keep his cool, collect his composure. No one here was paying attention to him, no one here even cared. All they wanted was to ask Bruce useless questions relating to his business and personal ones he’d never answer.
No one was paying attention to him, but the fact that someone could be sent a cold rush throughout his body that sank like a rock in his stomach. In and out Timmers, just breathe in and out. Tim exhaled on a four count, then opened his eyes only to see that Bruce had already begun his speech. Aw shit, I missed it!
„-and that is why the Wayne family members are present here today to help these war refugees find homes in trying times.“ Bruce concluded, causing uproar in the crowd around him. People clapped and cheered for him, Tim only scoffed.
„I’d like to make a small announcement!“ Tim froze at the voice, it rang like a gunshot through the crowd and grated at his ears. That overconfident, cocky persona that the public ate up.
„I’d just like to say that after all this time, we‘ve finally decided to merge Drake industries and Wayne enterprises!“ said Timothy, but not Tim. Timothy as in the Tim that was never chosen to be Robin, never forced into the role of Joker junior. Timothy as in the man that probably never had to face hardship in his entire life.
God he was so… annoying! Is this really how people see me? No wonder I have so many haters, Tim thought, I would totally harass myself on twitter if I had to listen to this all day.
Tim made a mental note to check himself in the future.
There were a lot of things Batman trained his Robins‘ to do, and if you knew what to look for it was pretty easy to spot. He taught them small things, like to always carry a weapon of some kind on their person at all times, or to keep their postures pristine so no one could notice when they’re hiding an injury.
His eyes scanned his own face and body, analyzing the man standing in front of him. Nothing seemed off, nothing seemed hidden. God damn it, this was harder than he thought. Either these people were really good at hiding secrets or they really were just ordinary everyday people. Well, and ordinary and everyday as a Wayne could get.
Voices flitted through one ear and out of the other as he rubbed his temples. He could feel a headache coming on, good thing they had painkillers in the hotel.
Standing to the right of Bruce was Dick, then Jason and finally Damian. He was surprised to see the younger bat, he‘d assumed Damian would still be with Talia in Nanda Parbet. Hopefully less cult-y and more normal city and neighborhood. (Tim hoped this Damian had a nice childhood).
This was getting him nowhere! Tim sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as he gripped the strap of his bag. He had been having better luck at the park, maybe he should just go back there? Yeah, that sounded like a plan.
Tim swerved backwards, rushing towards the exit without looking where he was going.
„Oof-!“ he fell to the floor. Tim rubbed his head as he looked up and the sight made his heart stop.
„Oh, are you okay?“ standing in front of him was none other than the Man of Steel himself, Clark Kent and his two sons.
Aw, crud.