Chapter Text
Tim… didn’t expect to find something like this.
His head hurt, the room(?) warping around him where he stood. (was he even standing?)
Although he was running on a few hours of sleep, coffee probably also replacing the blood in his veins, there was something that told him that he may actually be ripped apart if he lost consciousness now. (Oh really?)
Like Bruce- no. That was the whole reason he was here, wasn’t he? To save Bruce. So no. Of course he was alive. He had went through so much, oh so much to find him.
And well, he had. Bruce’s weight still hung limply from where he was hauling him on his shoulders, mostly unconscious but still breathing, alive. Tim just needed to get back to his world line’s coordinates and press the button on this gadget thing to alert the Justice League, simple enough. In fact, his world line was already in sight, just a few steps away.
And yet, instead of going toward it, he stood still in the stream of time, staring into one of the many portals, too close for comfort, and much clearer than any of the other timelines.
This was… his past. Back when he was a kid, before Jason died and everything went to hell- He took in a breath to steady himself. Point was, this was his universe, his world, just rewinded a little into the past.
Instead of looking past it like he should be doing, getting back to the task of getting Bruce home, he couldn’t help but hesitate. This may be his first time in the timestream, but he has heard things from Bart and Kon before. Whatever happened when you left your universe or timeline to enter another was uncertain, especially if another ‘you’ existed there but… it was possible to affect the timelines. The League has done so many times, in fact.
He broke his gaze away from where he had been entranced by the past, only to glance back to his future, his present.
Bruce’s weight was a constant on his back, keeping him grounded.
Bruce… Dick… Jason… Damian… Everyone. They all needed him. No. Tim corrected himself.
They needed Bruce.
Tim has made many memories since he first became Robin. Many of them… hurt, to say the least.
He closed his eyes for a moment, holding his thoughts together even as the timestream threatened to pull his skin and limbs apart.
Jason, Robin’s death. The depression the whole city had fallen into after their symbol of light was gone. The depression Batman had fallen into; and the role that Tim forced himself into, carving a place into a family where he didn’t belong. Jason coming back, which would have been amazing if he didn’t almost die during his attack on the tower, was one thing. Damian’s arrival, the multitude more assassin attempts, was another. And then Batman’s, Bruce’s disappearance.
Oh yea, and did he mention Joker Junior? And all his friends dying? And Dick almost dumping him into Arkham? And absolutely no one believing in him back when he thought that Bruce was alive-
He stopped himself there, leaning a little more forward as he shifted Bruce’s unconscious weight on himself more securely.
Kon would have believed in him. His team, all of them, would’ve. Dick should’ve believed in him, but-
His heart thumped loud in his chest and- when did his breathing get so laboured- Stop- Dammit Tim, just stop- He forced his breathing to slow once more, though it ached, and he opened his eyes to much more blurry surroundings. Through the storm of his thoughts, he faintly heard an alert on his gadget. He was running out of time. He needed to get back before he lost consciousness and maybe even himself in the time stream, like what happened to Bruce, but…
Tim, for once, didn’t have a plan. He didn’t have the perfect words or even thoughts to explain it.
He just moved numbly, memories flickering through his mind as he did, like they were the only thing left of him.
Click. He slipped his watch, the gadget, off his wrist, securing it tightly around Bruce’s instead.
Beep. He pressed the button. The League should be getting ready for him.
Not them. Him. The one who truly mattered.
He approached the portal.
At some point, he wasn’t really carrying Bruce anymore, more of supporting him under his shoulder, limp feet dragging on the floor.
And then… he pushed him in.
——————————————
Everything was dark.
Where was… He could think?
As he laid in the darkness that he had grown accustomed to at some point, he slowly regained himself. Pieces and bits that felt scattered for a long time. How long..? He didn’t know.
Eventually, white noise filtered into his ears, popping like he was on an airplane. His mind felt foggy, did he even exist?
It was a struggle, but when he finally managed to open his eyes, he thinks he felt the tension in his body leaving, a weight he didn’t even know he had fading away into lightness.
“Bruce?” A quiet voice cracked slightly, hoarse, from the sound of it. And incredibly familiar.
Bruce’s gaze slowly cleared up in the dim lighting, shifting to land on a figure. Nightwing. His son.
Dick’s eyes watered, hand bolting to hit a button by the bedside. “Bruce-! He’s- h-he’s…” his voice trembled, but it was filled with so much more joy and grief than it had been for a long time.
In a flash, (hah) the room filled with people, doctors shifting around Bruce, checking if things were alright. The moment they left, the room quickly filled up with other, much more familiar and emotional faces.
First of all, his family. Alfred, Dick, Babs, Steph, Cass, Damian, Duke, even Jason was here for goodness sake. But… wasn’t something…
Even as questions, well wishes, and words of pure relief came out, Bruce couldn’t help but feel a slight frown, brow knotting as he tried to remember.
And then, it clicked.
“Tim. Where’s Tim.” His voice sounded even hoarser than he normally made it sound as Batman, if that was even possible. His children glanced at each other, avoiding his gaze, some taken aback by his first words.
Alfred meanwhile, helped him sit up, passing him a glass of water and guiding him to drink steadily.
“He…” His eldest spoke up, but the words seemed to be choked in his throat once more as he bit his lower lip.
Cass seemed mad, her whole body taut with tension, though Bruce didn’t understand why. The rest seemed equally distressed, yet unreadable to Bruce on why.
Damian then cleared his throat, reporting with a clipped voice, though even that sounded a little tighter than usual. “Father, we’re all glad that you are back. Timothy… was the one to go retrieve you, but… he appears to have had a change in the mission plans that has been deluded from the rest of us, as he has not.. returned.”
Even though his head was still fuzzy from just having woken up, Bruce wasn’t deaf. He wasn’t hard of hearing either, last he checked, and Damian didn’t lie. Not on mission reports.
Tim was the one who saved him. But he didn’t return..?
Before he had time to fully process it, turn the statement around and flip it over in his head, the door burst open once more, Clark and Diana stepping in.
“Bruce.” They greeted, a slight smile on their faces, though Bruce now understood the slight unease behind it that everyone seemed to hold.
“We’re all so glad that you’re back safe.” Clark started after an awkward pause, stepping a little closer towards the bed. “And I know everything must be confusing right now, but we’ve confirmed that your body is in a stable state, and we need to talk.”
——————————————
Everything was dark.
As he slowly regained feeling in his body, the first thing that hit him was the pain.
His body ached all over, a jab coursing through him as he shifted to open his eyes…
He was… lying in an alley. He forced himself to sit up, feeling much more clumsy and less nimble than he should be and then—
He had a camera. Around his neck, resting in his lap. A really old model. He hasn’t seen one since he used it to take pictures when he was like, twelve-
Oh.
Tim checked himself over. He was in civilian attire, no serious injuries besides some bruises… What date was it?? Tim fished out his phone, (oh god it was so old) and flipped it open for the date.
It was… summer break. Tim dusted himself over as he slowly stood up, pushing off the wall with hands far too small.
As he made his way back home, his Robin training reminding him to keep safely to the shadows, Tim orientated himself. He was… it really happened. He went back into the past. Tim faintly remembered this night. He had fallen from the side of a building’s fire escape while trying to be cool and sliding down. He hadn’t fallen too badly, but it resulted in a few scrapes and cuts that he lied to those he met about a skateboard incident.
Only difference was that he didn’t miraculously travel back in time originally.
He almost couldn’t believe what had happened. Like on one hand, oh shit, he had actually done it. On the other… what about Bruce? Did he get back safe? Could Tim ever get back? Was he stuck here now? Did they realise what he had done?
Did they… miss him?
Tim immediately shook that thought away, packing it up and triple sealing it into a box, throwing it securely into the very darkest depths of his mind space. Nope. He’d unpack that another time. Maybe alongside the other boxes that threatened to spill out.
Another day.
For now, he had a more pressing matter on hand; (always something next to look out for) he had to prevent Jason’s death.
That was where everything started going downhill, he was sure. Tim was never meant to take up the role of Robin, and it shows.
Something uneasy settled in the back of his mind as Tim slipped through a back door of the Drake manor, a clean building he hasn’t stepped into for a long time…
Everything was the same as he remembered, an unchanging museum. The white walls pressed into him just as he recalled, and his steps echoed through the house.
It was a lot colder than he remembered, ever since he entered the warm home of Wayne’s manor and never looked back.
After stripping his night attire and equipment, Tim hit the showers, settling into his old room after he finished, surrounding himself with his laptop, camera, and photos.
It was all kind of nostalgic, it’s been a long time since he looked at his photos, but he didn’t linger for long. He couldn’t.
Instead, he counted the dates, came up with a plan. He now had the forbidden knowledge of the future in his hands, and he was going to do everything and anything he needed to fix this timeline. Everything. Even if it meant that Batman thought he was crazy and chucked him into an asylum.
And well, fate didn’t give him much time to work with, because Joker would escape Arkham tomorrow, and Jason would die two weeks later.
—————————
The next morning, Tim looked over his mental script one more time, double checked his blackmail, and prepared himself with a cup of coffee. Black.
This wouldn’t be his first time, but he dreaded the thought of doing it again.
At least the circumstances were better… probably.
It was too late to regret by the time he was knocking on the Wayne manor’s large doors, trying to retrieve his inner Robin and keep a level head, though the task was proving harder than he thought.
Was it the thought of seeing Bruce, before years of anguish wore him down? Or was it the thought of a young and cheerful Jason, a rookie Nightwing Dick, and Alfred who would hold no judgement to a twelve year old boy?
Although Tim felt disgusted. He didn’t deserve the love. Nor did he want it. He didn’t.
He eventually convinced himself in those few moments that it was because his physical body was currently twelve, and literally unable to manage emotions as well as compared to after puberty.
The door opened after, Tim’s thoughts slowing, though he couldn’t have been standing outside for long.
Alfred looked around before his gaze lowered to him, eyebrows raising slightly in surprise. Tim felt a surge of comfort at the sight of the old man, but he swallowed it back down.
Tim cleared his voice, “Hello, Agent A.” He didn’t bother playing around; not when this was a life and death matter.
Alfred didn’t even stutter, as expected, “My apologies, to whom…?”
“Tim. Timothy Drake, but please call me Tim.” The boy finished, holding Alfred’s gaze without showing a tinge of fear. “I would like to speak to Batman.” He paused for a bit of dramatic effect, (sue his brothers for rubbing off on him) lowering his voice a little more, “May I have an audience with Mr Wayne?”
Alfred’s eyes narrowed immediately, much more guarded, though his facial emotions were kept even and unreadable. “I believe that this conversation would be handled better indoors, Master Tim.” The man stepped aside to usher him in, and Tim didn’t protest.
As he was brought to one of the formal sitting rooms, Tim waited patiently as Alfred excused himself, presumably to call a family meeting or urge Bruce to return from WE.
It didn’t take long at all. The door opened suddenly, though Tim heard his footsteps coming from far away, he couldn’t help but tense as he stood up, eyes widening as it landed on the figure who approached.
Bruce… he really looked.. no, he was so much younger back then. His hair was completely black, frown lines barely visible on his face, and he just looked… so much more youthful.
Wow… Tim… almost felt like crying. This… he had gone through such a tough year since Bruce disappeared, and now a younger version of him, a whole and not yet broken Bruce stood before him. A father he longed to have, but he already had a family and that family wasn’t him.
Tim couldn’t help but be so stunned for that moment that he forgot his speech. Bruce, Batman, stared him down, approaching steadily with a hand stretched out. Tim snapped himself back to his reality, tucking his emotions into a safe, (the boxes in his mind were going to explode) accepting the handshake with as much firmness as his young, untrained twig arms could offer.
“It’s nice to meet you, Batman.” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as unsteady as he thought it did. It was definitely puberty. Urgh.
For the most part, the start of their conversation went much like the first time he did so, though Bruce wasn’t as harsh, wasn’t as sharp around the edges or filled with grief as he once was. Or soon would become. No. Tim was here to stop that.
———
By the time he finished, Bruce seemed more exasperated than mad. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he questioned again. “…Tim, how old did you say you were?”
“Almost fourteen.” He replied unwaveringly.
“And you’ve been chasing us, Batman and Robin and villains, around the city of Gotham since you were ten?”
“Nine.” He corrected carefully. “After I saw that video of the first Robin doing his quadruple somersault and realised he was Richard Grayson. The rest was pieced together from there.”
Bruce let out another slow breath as he lowered his head and closed his eyes, gears in his head no doubt turning as he collected his thoughts.
Alfred had been standing nearby after serving some tea and biscuits, listening to the conversation with a slight furrow of his brow.
“Are we done with that part? Because I have something more important to tell you.” Bruce’s gaze snapped up at the words, seemingly about to object, but Tim was faster.
“Joker is going to escape from Arkham tonight.” Bruce’s, Batman’s, entire posture became rigid at that one, sitting straighter as he glared a little. “Explain.”
Tim took a breath, taking another sip of Alfred’s tea, and he did.
This one… the two seemed to take it with a lot more incredulity.
“You, are sure of this, because of why?” Bruce questioned one more time. Poor guy’s brain almost seemed fried. Tim almost would’ve felt bad if he wasn’t the world’s greatest detective.
“You heard it.” Tim answered shortly. “I don’t care if you believe me about coming from another timeline or not, because that doesn’t matter. What matters is that if I, if you, don’t do anything… Jason Todd is going to die by Joker’s hand in two weeks.”
—————————
After the whole… meeting, Jason was still in summer school, and Dick was called to come back to Wayne manor, but it would still take a few hours.
For now, Bruce was locked in the batcave, probably organising the information and questioning what to do about the random boy that showed up on his doorstep with all their secret identities and the future figured out. Tim was relieved that he managed to hold himself together the whole conversation, as well as hide most information about the future from them. Bruce didn’t need to know how far into the future he knew anyway. Not yet. Neither did he need to know that he became his Robin after Jason and thought of him as his father figure. Once again, he’d deal with that on another day.
During this tense moment of waiting, Alfred had been kind enough to prepare a meal for Tim, upon realising that he hadn't had a proper breakfast. Tim also noticed the way his gaze lingered on him. He knew that he used to be thin. Too short. Almost like he was malnourished though he wasn’t.
And yet… Tim couldn’t find it in himself to reject Alfred, though the man owed him, a stranger, absolutely nothing in this world.
Alfred’s food was good even before you have eaten or seen it, as always. He tucked in gratefully. It’s been… wow, almost a year since he had this. He… really missed Alfred. And Bruce. And Dick and maybe even Jason-
He didn’t realise that he had been too slow to stop the tear from rolling down his cheek.
——————————————
Alfred was… concerned to say the least. Never in his years of work had he met such a peculiar child. Overly mature and emotionally detached for his age, though explained by the time travel, still didn’t feel right. He couldn’t have been older than twenty, even aged up.
All the information he had reported was also worrying. The fact that a child, before the time travelling possession occurred, had been following them around for so many years, and that his parents were always travelling, leaving him alone at home… the butler didn’t know what was more worrying of all the things he heard in that conversation.
And as he watched the boy scarfing down the food, Alfred knew that he had always had a soft spot for kids. Bruce probably even picked it up from him. This boy had bright eyes, a lean figure, and seemingly the world on his shoulders. Alfred was glad, if his meal could relieve even a little of his pain. He smiled slightly as Tim complimented the food repeatedly under his breath, watching as a tear fell…
The butler was by the boy's side in a heartbeat, kneeling to meet his eye level, using a handkerchief to wipe his tears. “Are you alright, Master Tim?”
That seemed to trigger something in the boy, the tears quickly turning into quiet sobs as he threw his arms around Alfred’s neck, sitting by the edge of the chair, leaning into him.
——————————————
“A-Alfred… Y-you… Bruce… I just…” Tim eventually gave up with words, sobbing and hiccuping and choking over himself. This was stupid. He was an adult, mentally at least, and he shouldn’t be clinging onto a stranger who knows nothing, remembers nothing…
Yet Alfred, as the kind man he is, returned the embrace with warm arms, wrapping around Tim securely. Not as overwhelming as Bruce, but the warmth still seeped deep into his cold skin.
He missed this. Touch that didn’t hurt, wasn’t creepy, purely an exchange. Maybe to Alfred, it was an exchange, but to Tim…
Pack it up in a box and throw it away, Tim. He chided himself as he pulled away, using the back of his hands, arms, anything to wipe away what had become a steady flow of tears.
There was some silence as Alfred passed him a tissue, letting Tim properly blow his nose and calm himself down. “May I inquire as to what happened, Master Tim?”
Tim was quiet for a while, shaking his head as he murmured through sniffles, “You… wouldn’t understand.”
Alfred raised a brow. “I’ve been serving Master Bruce, Batman, for many years.” He looked Tim in the eyes, something almost like pleading, Tim thought, but that couldn’t be right, “Try me.”
Maybe it was because he had just cried, he felt drained, or Alfred just let people’s guard down like that, but Tim did. He knew that it would all hit Bruce’s ears sooner or later, but for now, he just really wanted to get it off his shoulders.
“In my timeline…” Tim finally started off, trying his best to keep his voice steady, detaching himself from a world that wasn’t going to happen again.
“After Robin died and Batman fell into a depression… I tried telling Nightwing to come back as Robin, but he refused, so I… forced myself into the role.” He took in a breath.
“I became the third Robin.”