Chapter Text
To say Tim was confused would be an understatement, Tim Drake was very confused. Being confused irritated him because the young detective didn’t do the whole being confused thing.
It was two days after their training session led by a certain Green Lantern, overall it had been… decent. Just a regular session to begin with, until Tim decided to pair with Bart.
He did not expect the speedster to practically match his hand to hand skills. He had been training under Batman for the past five years as Robin, usually the only ones who could take him were other Bats. Yet somehow, he’d found himself pinned under the speedster, that freckled face grinning down at him as if he knew he’d just blown Tim’s mind.
A part of him was amazed at the other teen’s skill set.
In all honesty the spar had left Tim on a high, it had felt like an eternity since he’d really been challenged. Recently Bats and Wing had been occupied with their super secret mission, one that left no trace (probably to keep Tim out of it), so he’d been starving for a good old fashioned fight- and Bart had provided.
However, Tim’s amazement quickly turned sour when Bruce discovered what exactly happened in that session.
He’d been writing up his notes for the latest case- a classic “Gotham villain breaks out of Arkham… again”- when Bruce cleared his throat somewhere to his right. Turning slightly revealed his mentor fully decked out in his armour, cowl pulled over his head.
“Hey, B,” he’d greeted.
“I saw the footage of your sparring session with Kid Flash,” Tim felt a spike of nervous energy coil in his gut, he did his best not to outwardly show it.
“Oh…” was all he could reply with.
“Wally was never able to beat Dick,” was the last thing Batman said before he spun towards the armoury, his cape sweeping behind him as he went.
That simple statement made him feel sick to his very core, he didn’t even finish up his notes as he bolted towards the cave’s exit. If anyone found out he’d shed a few tears onto his pillow that night, he’d deny it at all costs.
So now, whenever Tim thought of his fight with Bart, his guts seemed to vanish into the floor below. And of course the only way he could think to redeem himself was… a rematch!
Which was how he found himself pacing his way through the Watchtower, his cape fluttering behind him as he hunted down the speedster. With every step his rage only grew. Logically he knew he wasn’t upset with Bart- he was angry at Bruce’s wording, at Bruce only picking up on Tim failures, at Bruce comparing him to Dick.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t really be mad with Bruce, that never ended well for Robins. So, he got mad at Bart instead (the obvious alternative). He wasn’t sure what he’d do when he found Kid Flash, challenge him to a duel like a knight? Chew him out? Skip a few steps and just jump him? Attack him in his sleep? None of those options sounded good so he opted to do whatever came natural at the time.
However, all of Tim’s thoughts were thrown into the vacuum of space when he finally found the speedster- he didn’t expect to find him sat cross legged in front of a holographic memorial. Wally West to be specific.
The memorial room was always a peaceful place, the trees and shrubbery created an idyllic atmosphere “perfect for grieving” as Artemis put it. In Tim’s opinion it needed a little waterfall to make it complete, but he doubted the League was looking for interior design tips.
From where he stood (in the doorway like a creep) he had a clear view of Bart’s back. He was dressed in his civvies, the usual jeans and two-sizes-too-big jumper combo. He sat slouched over, his hands hidden in his lap- Tim noted the other boy was sat stock still, an impressive feet for a speedster.
Tim began to move towards the other boy, he had no clue why, but eventually he found himself sat next to Bart. Being so close allowed him to see more of his body language.
His eyes seemed to stare through Wally’s hologram at the stars beyond. Bart’s nails quickly picked at his cuticles, Tim didn’t miss how a few were already bleeding but he knew they would be all healed up in a few minutes. Or at least they would if Bart gave them a chance, instead he kept picking. Adding to the wounds before the skin had a chance to knit itself together.
Throwing caution to the wind Tim reached out and placed a hand over the intertwined hands, halting the picking instantly.
Bart subtly jumped as his eyes flicked over to meet the lenses of his domino mask.
“Oh… Hi,” he muttered, he started cracking his knuckles seeing as picking was suddenly off the table.
“Hi,” Tim replied. The two sat in silence for a while, Bart staring through Wally as Tim’s gaze flicked over to Jason’s hologram. A flash of pain pinched his heart as he looked at the fallen bird.
Bart’s gaze followed his, “how do you do it?” He asked.
“Do what?” The two looked at each other for a moment.
“Be the… replacement…” A sad sheen took over the speedster’s eyes. “I can’t seem to stop being the new Kid Flash. Both of our predecessors died, we replaced them, yet no one calls you the new Robin.” He said the last bit with venom in his voice.
Tim slowly nodded before answering, “I guess it’s easier ‘cos I'm the third one… I imagine Jason had a harder time adjusting to the roll. Plus, everyone loved Wally… Jason was more of a bat bird, he didn’t have a lot to do with the team.”
“I get you, I wish I never accepted the title,” Bart stated glumly.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do, I miss Impulse. Impulse was mine , I didn’t have any shoes to fill. Now I feel like the shoes are so big they’re weighing me down…”
“I feel that in my soul…” Tim muttered, Bart chuckled softly and the Robin counted that as a win. The two fell back into a comfortable silence.
Maybe ten minutes had passed by the time Bart spoke again, “can I... tell you something?”
“Sure.”
“I miss my family,” Bart’s gaze never left the stars.
“What were they like?” His curiosity got the better of him.
Finally those green eyes met his mask, somehow Bart’s stare made him feel like a mouse in front of a cat. “Can I trust you, Tim?” He narrowed his eyes.
“Yes, without a doubt.” He elected to ignore the use of his name. Bart kept staring and wordlessly held up a hand, fist clenched with his pinky finger extended.
Tim met the gesture, a bare hand and a kevlar covered one intertwined. A silent promise was made between the two heroes.
With a nod Bart continued, “they were amazing… They were the best.”
“They sound great.”
“They really were… Look, I know you're gonna ask-”
“Wanna rematch?” Tim interrupted. Bart’s grin was the only answer he needed.
xXx
“Ah shit!” Bart yelped as he yanked his arm away from Tim, clutching it to his chest as he glared at his attacker. “That hurt!”
“It’s meant to,” he chuckled before repositioning himself on the mat. After a minute of whining and shaking his arm Bart rejoined him and the two set off on their next round of sparring. The duo exchanged punches, kicks, swipes and even bites on one occasion ( Bart ).
Eventually the two vigilanties found themselves sprawled across the mat like a pair of starfish head to toe style. Bart had his head pillowed on Tim’s thigh as they heaved for air. Their faces were flushed and their hair was slicked with sweat, to put it nicely- they looked like absolute messes.
“Good fight,” Tim stated.
“Indeed my dear Watson!” Bart tried to yell, but it came out as more of a wheeze as his lungs struggled.
“Really? I’m Watson?” Tim peered down his body at the speedster using him as a pillow, Bart really did his best not to laugh at Robin's double chin.
“Look… You’re the real life detective, let me have the fake Sherlock title.” Bart reasoned.
“Okay that’s fair,” he huffed back. He really had no decent comeback to that, he moved his hand to block out the gym’s lights… Only for his muscles to give up and his arm to fall onto his face, smothering him in the process.
“You want some water?”
“Definitely,” was his muffled reply. Bart reluctantly rose with a wheezy laugh, his auburn hair stuck up in every direction before he did his best to tame it (and majorly failed).
“I’ll be back in a flash!” He moved to run towards the kitchen before suddenly halting, “okay… I’ve possibly pulled a muscle so I’ll walk, give it a minute to heal… Back in a minute!” He shuffled towards the door.
“That’s not as catchy!” Tim yelled to the retreating form, Bart just showed him the bird without turning to face him.
And suddenly, Tim was left alone in the gym. He moved his arm and let his vision go blurry as he stared at the ceiling, the fluorescent lights stinging his eyes slightly. The black ceiling joists stood out against the light grey walls, he knew for a fact those joists provided a decent hiding spot if the higher lights were out of action- he figured that was a serious design flaw.
With a sigh the third Robin hauled himself up, whipped his brow with the end of his cape and started dragging the mat back over to the storage pile. Until he saw how the other mats had been stacked- it looked like a gorilla had done it.
Probably Garfield then.
Tim quickly realised he would have to sort the pile out if he didn’t want to be thinking about the mess all night (he thought this like his room wasn’t a complete mess). So, he got to work.
He was half way through the mats when the air pressure seemed to change.
His reflexes kicked in and he spun on his toes, bringing an arm up just in time to block a fist aimed for his head.
A boot sailed towards his stomach, he pushed it aside as he hopped backwards to put some distance between him and his attacker.
His assailant was a man around Dick’s height with a strong build. He wore black cargo pants tucked into heavy looking combat boots (he was so glad he dodged that kick), his torso was clad in a flexible looking armour with some sort of red symbol haphazardly scrawled across his chest. An open black and red jacket hugged his figure as Tim spied several weapons strapped to the stranger- from a dagger and a pistol on his thigh holster, to throwing knives along his ribs.
What stood out the most was the red helmet.
“Wha-” Tim started, only to be interrupted.
“I can’t believe you’re the replacement,” the voice had a mechanical tint to it, “what does he see in you ?” He kept his face neutral as his attacker ranted, “ya know… He had to convince the Bat to let him try the whole Robin gig out, you just swanned in and took it. You’re nothing, you're no Robin, all the other idiots go easy on ya… but me? No freakin’ way!”
Suddenly, Tim’s muscles were working without consulting his mind. He dodged blows, weaved under kicks and kept hopping away from the mystery man.
“Who are you?” He yelled as he pushed a fist aside again.
“Ya know,” he continued as if Tim had never even spoken, “no one was surprised when Jason died…”
Hearing his deceased predecessor’s name stole the air from his lungs, it felt like a cannonball had been shot into his stomach. His attacker used the split second of hesitation to grab Tim’s wrist before flinging the new Robin over his shoulder. The impact with the floor shook him from his shock, but it wasn’t soon enough as he felt a heavy boot dig into his shoulder- effectively pinning him down.
“No one was surprised when little Jason failed .” The boot smashed into his nose, his vision swam as his head smacked into the floor. “Yet here I am… Beating pathetic little Timothy Drake. ” His name was spat like poison.
“Wha-” The boot smashed into his face again, he could feel a steady stream of blood pour down his jaw as it pooled beneath him. His vision felt like it would never be straight again, his head pounded and it felt like he was underwater as he thought he heard his attacker chuckle at his misery.
He felt a hand press over his heart, before he thought he heard kevlar ripping
Then he heard the distinct clicking of a gun and a shadowy figure hover over him, Tim could do nothing to stop the inevitable.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and mentally said goodbye to the team.
He felt so stupid, he couldn’t even stop one man. The man was right… He was no Robin.
Then, several things happened at once. His attacker grunted (in shock?) as a gunshot echoed around the room. Tim’s left shoulder exploded in pain, he couldn’t hold back the scream as more blood pooled around him. Peeling his eyes open felt as hard as climbing a mountain but he forced himself to do it.
The first thing he saw was a head of fluffy auburn hair as someone knelt next to him. Then, a freckled face came into view.
“Bart!” He grunted, the metallic taste of blood polluted his mouth.
“Hi! It’s me!” Somehow Bart managed to give him a reassuring smile, “I’m just gonna-” He cut himself off as he held Tim’s cape to the wound. “You’re gonna be okay! Trust me!”
“How do you kn-”
“Just trust me okay? You’re gonna be fine, and that’s a spoiler,” the speedster winked and Tim could only nod slightly. Soon the darkness that crept along the sides of his vision took over and he fell into unconsciousness.
xXx
The first sense that came online was his sense of smell, it told him he must have been in an infirmary- if the anti-septic scent was anything to go off.
Next was his hearing, the steady beep of a heart monitor quickly started to get on his nerves. It jumped slightly as his body waking up translated over to the machine.
Finally, he managed to peel his eyes open. He was grateful to see the lights had been dimmed, just enough to provide enough light to work, but dark enough to shroud the corners in shadows. Turning his head to the right revealed an unnamed League Doctor, a slim woman with a bun tight enough Tim could feel his headache getting worse. She looked over at him, smiled slightly, jotted something down before looking over Tim.
He followed her line of sight to reveal a set of bright green eyes staring back at him.
“Hi,” Bart said gently, he slumped his seat. His legs spread out in front of him as he leaned his elbow on the arm rest with his cheek on his closed fist.
Tim just squinted back at him, his throat felt too raw.
“I’ll go fetch some ice chips,” the Doctor lady said. Tim paid her no mind as she left the room.
“I told you you’d be fine.” Tim just nodded. “Bullet wound to the left shoulder, just above the heart. Broken nose, fractured eye socket, concussion and a twisted ankle.” Bart listed off his injuries like he’d been studying his chart.
With a pained grimace Tim forced out a garbled sentence, “do you… know who…”
“Yes,” Bart took pity on him and interrupted, “no talky talky, Doc’s orders!” He shuffled his chair closer and leaned his elbows on the edge of the mattress, “I’ll explain when I can, that’s a promise…”
He trailed off as the Doctor came back and fed Tim a few heavenly ice chips.
xXx
He hadn’t told Bruce anything about the incident in the gym, Tim figured he watched the CCTV of it all. He’d only watched the footage recently.
To put it bluntly- Bart was the sole reason he was alive.
When Tim had been sprawled on the floor like a bird with a broken wing, with a wolf standing over it, the speedster had bolted in just in the nick of time. Lightning had flickered around the attacker’s boots before a blur whipped him out. Lightning spread along the floor like ivy as the man pulled the trigger, but was thrown into the opposing wall at an intimidating speed. Tim observed as Bart stopped the bleeding with his cape, and kept talking to him (even after Tim’d head had lolled to the side).
Kid Flash never left his side as the stranger stumbled towards the door, the Robin insignia from his uniform clutched in his fist. Bart's eyes tracked the man as he hobbled, yet he made no move to stop him from escaping.
Bart never left him, not even when he was safe in the infirmary.
He wasn’t sure what to think about that.
He’d watched the footage over and over again, he’d quickly realised how pathetic he’d looked, he couldn’t even take one person! One man!
It was probably why Batman didn’t talk to him about it.
Dick had come to visit him, he’d reassured the “situation was being handled” and that he’d told the team he’d been injured on patrol, so instead of training he spent his days cooped up in his room at the Drake mansion (thankfully his parents were somewhere in South Africa on a business trip… again).
Not even the Bats wanted the team to know how easily he’d fallen. Thinking about it all made him feel sick.
As for Bart… Not a lot had changed. He’d explained exactly nothing to him. However, Tim had a feeling he would have to wait for the details. The time traveler had always been secretive about his past (and their future), but now he’d changed the timeline Tim didn’t see many reasons to keep it a secret.
He figured he just had to place his trust in the speedster, he could do that. It would take time for Tim to trust Bart… and probably even longer for the trust to go both ways but they’d get there.
Trust is a two way street, and Tim was determined to make it work.
Tim had made a promise after all...