Chapter Text
Nightmares were nothing new for Dick Grayson. He’d had them all his life, even before that horrible night at the circus. They got worse after that, especially before he became Robin. Ever since he’d become an ‘adult’ though, they’d started to die down. Well… Until now.
The dream wasn’t too scary, not yet anyway. Dick was floating above some kind of pool of water, the entire area drenched in dark shadows. He’d never been afraid of the dark, too comforted by the idea that shadows were where Batman hid, but something about these ones seemed unkind. Foreboding.
You are here to make a deal. A voice in his head boomed, its tone monotone and cold.
“Deal? What kind of deal?” Dick asked, attempting to turn, but his body was frozen in place, trapping him here.
I have heard you, Richard. In your darkest moments. You would do anything to get your brother back. To see Jason again.
At his side, Dick’s fist tightened. His nails dug into his palm, and he was sure he could feel the pain. “What about Jason?”
I can give you him back. Would you like that?
“Who the fuck are you? Why won’t you show yourself?”
It is not relevant. Now, do you want Jason back or not? I can do it for you, bring him back.
“What’s the catch?” Dick raised an eyebrow, feeling slightly insane to be bartering with a dream. It’s not like it was real. Right?
Matter transmutates. To create life, you need to take it.
“Me for him? Do it.”
An interesting proposition. But I think I can do better than that. His life, for Tim Drake’s.
Face scrunching up, Dick scoured his brain for the name. An old acquaintance? One of Jason’s friends? He couldn’t turn up anything. Prompting one question.
“Who the hell is Tim Drake?”
Yes or no, circus boy. I do not have all day.
Dick’s mouth started moving before his mind could even work through it. “Yes. Yes. Do it.” He said, the gravity of his words lingering in the air for just a moment. This— None of this was real. But if it was just a dream, why did his stomach start twisting in knots?
Wonderful! I just need you to do one thing for me. Find out who Tim Drake is.
𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹
Dick had forgotten about the weird dream, even though it weighed on his mind. Or, mostly forgotten about it. He couldn’t shake the name. Tim Drake. It seemed so familiar, yet alien all the same. He tried checking around on the batcomputer, but he was only given some sort of odd archeological company.
It seemed that Tim Drake would remain nothing more than a personal mystery, a name with no face. Until Dick came face-to-face with some kid at Haly’s Circus. The kid was shorter than he was, barely reaching Dick’s shoulder, with jet black hair that hung around his face in overgrown fashion. He was holding an envelope, outstretching his hand towards Dick.
“Batman needs you. He’s going to get hurt— or hurt someone else. He needs Robin back.” The kid urged, pushing the envelope into Dick’s hands. Silently, Dick pulled out its contents, seeing dozens of photos of Batman fighting, each one getting bloodier and bloodier. A thousand questions race to Dick’s mind, but he had to fight down the one he wanted to ask most.
“How did you get these?” He asked, his voice sounding foreign to his own body. This felt less real than the dream.
“Does it matter? He needs you!” The kid raised his voice, prompting Dick to grab his arm, pulling him closer.
“Keep it down, we can’t talk about this here,” Dick said, looking around to make sure none of his old circus friends had overheard. Thankfully, they were busy preparing to start traveling again. Dick pushed out a sigh, dropping the kid’s arm. “Come with me— You are from Gotham, right?”
“Yeah—Yes.” The kid nodded, eyes wide as he looked up at Dick. He didn’t seem scared though; it looked more like amazement. “I biked here.”
“You can put your bike in my trunk. I’ll drive us back— And don’t think you get to keep how you found out about us to yourself.” Dick said, pointing to the direction of his car with his head.
The ride back to Wayne Manor from where the circus had set up should’ve been about twenty minutes. But, thanks to New Jersey infrastructure, they were in bumper-to-bumper traffic and would likely stay there for the next half an hour. Dick had wanted to use the car ride to get his head together and try to shake off the feeling that he knew this kid— That maybe that dream had been real. Although every time he thought of it, a wave of nausea washed over him and he thought about pulling over to throw up.
“How did you find out?” Dick asked, breaking the silence they’d been sitting in. It was the best he could do.
“Well, we’ve actually met before. A long time ago, I was only three. My parents took me to the circus— Your circus. I was nervous, I was just a little kid and there was a lot going on. So they thought if I had my picture taken with the acrobats it might help me calm down, realize they were just people like me. And, well, you and your parents were the acrobats.” The kid leaned down, reaching into the backpack he’d brought with him to pull out a single photograph and pass it to Dick.
Dick recognized it, he used to keep it displayed on his dresser when he lived with Bruce. After moving in with Kory, he’d kept it in a scrapbook. It was him and his parents with another family. The mother and father looked pretty usual; nice, happy, normal. Younger Dick was balancing the kid on his knee, grinning widely at the camera. “You mean, that’s you?”
“That’s me. And you told me something then, that you would do your act just for me. I was so excited, I don’t remember anything else other than the second you guys took the stage. And then…”
The unsaid words cut through the air like a knife, finding its way right into Dick’s chest. And then they died . Dick’s hands tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles going pale.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bring it up— I didn’t want to upset you.” The kid said, cringing a bit as he looked across Dick’s expression.
“It’s fine, kid. Just— Get to the point.” Dick forced out, thankful that there seemed to be a break in the traffic ahead. He needed to focus on anything else.
“Well, after. I saw Batman swooping down to save you and at first I was scared, I thought he was going to hurt you. But he didn’t— He was going to save you.” The kid cleared his throat, hands bunching up his jeans awkwardly. “I had nightmares for a while, about that night. And every time, right as I was about to start crying Batman would come save me. And then you— Robin too. And that backflip you did, it was burned into my brain. So, when I saw Batman and Robin on the news, and Robin took a bad guy out with the same quadruple somersault Dick Grayson was known for. It wasn’t too hard to figure the rest out from there.”
Dick ran a hand across his face. Bruce would get a riot out of this. A decade of secrets and giving detectives and reporters the run around, only to be done in by a somersault. “Wow…You’re not bad kid.”
“Tim. My name is Tim Drake.”
And the floor fell out from under Dick.
𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹
Everything from there was a blur. Tim came back to the Manor, met Alfred. Dick and Bruce got trapped underneath a building, only to be rescued by the newest Robin— Oh God , this kid was Robin. What had he done?
Dick left back to New York almost immediately after Tim got his spot. Bruce loved him, instantly, and it was hard not to. Which is why Dick knew he couldn’t stay. That awful dream he had wouldn’t leave his head, those words.
Find out who Tim Drake is.
It was just a dream, he hadn’t really sentenced Tim to die. That would be nonsense. He found out who Tim Drake was but the kid was still alive and Jason was still six feet under. It wasn’t real. But… For Tim’s safety, Dick had to stay far far away from him.
And it had been working out well. Until Tim showed up at his front doorstep, bag hung over his shoulder.
“Tim? What’re you—” Dick cut himself off, trying to mask some of his horror. He didn’t need this. Not now.
“Bruce sent me here, to get some training. He said he could handle all the fighting and detective stuff I need to be Robin but… To be Batman’s partner he said I needed you.” Tim rocked back and forth on his heels, grinning at Dick expectantly.
Dick wanted nothing more than to slam the door in this kid’s face and tell him to go home. To not even touch the Robin suit and just give up. It wasn’t worth it, he couldn’t run the risk. Instead, Dick found himself inviting Tim in.
“Yikes! I just thought you were moving the last time I was here.” Tim said, eyes surveying the living room and kitchen area. He was right, it was a bit of a disaster, but Dick couldn’t be orderly in every avenue of his life.
“Lay off— I bet your room at home is even worse.” Dick retorted, rolling his eyes as Tim sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. Bullseye. “So what exactly did Bruce say?”
“He said— Um— ‘You need to learn to move like well oiled gear—’” Tim started, only to get quickly cut off by Dick.
“‘So that we mesh together, one smoothly working with the other instead of creating friction ’?” He offered, glancing over his shoulder at Tim as he straightened up some of his stuff. “God I must have heard that a million times when I was your age.”
“Guess things haven’t really changed then, huh?”
“They’ve changed more than you could ever imagine.”
An hour or so later and Tim and Dick were in the park. There wasn’t any way to get rid of the kid, not without Bruce giving him an earful over the phone so Dick decided to change course. If he trained Tim, modeled him to be perfect Robin, then nothing bad would ever happen to him. Dick couldn’t let anything ever happen to him.
“Take a seat, Tim.” Dick said, squatting down on the grass before fully sitting, stretching his legs out in front of him.
“Why?” Tim asked, head cocked to the side as he stared down at Dick.
“Rule number one; Don’t question anything. You do what you’re told.” Dick replied, Tim huffing only a bit before sitting down next to him. Dick couldn’t blame him, he remembered being just as headstrong as a kid, and it got him into way too much trouble. If Tim was going to do this, if he was going to live, he needed to be sharper than Dick was.
Hours passed quickly, hundreds of kids and their parents passing through the carousel just in front of them. Dick paid attention to them, while also taking in Tim. He sat neatly, legs folded in criss cross, contrasting Dick’s casual lounge. He seemed fidgety, playing with the grass beneath his fingers while his eyes darted around unfocused.
Glancing down at his watch, Dick noted the time. About seven hours since they’d first arrived in the park. People had begun to clear out and the sun had started to set in the sky. That seemed like enough time. “Alright. What did you see?”
Tim jumped a bit, like he wasn’t expecting Dick to start talking. “Um— Kids? Parents? I think I saw a dog.” He tried, not seeming confident in any of his responses.
“What were you doing while we sat here, Tim?” Dick asked, pushing himself up. He turned, offering his hand down to help Tim stand up.
“I thought we were either meditating or you were trying to teach me to be patient.”
“Not wrong. But not the full story either. Just because you’re waiting or meditating doesn’t mean you let your brain shut down.” Dick explained, folding his arms across his chest. He was a bit stricter than he usually was, but Tim’s life was on the line here. “Now, can you tell me about every kid on the carousel?”
Tim’s jaw dropped. “ Every kid? That— There must have been thousands of them!”
“Don’t overthink it. Just tell me about one of the ones you saw.”
Tim put a hand on his chin, staring down at the grass. “There was a young kid in a red jacket. He looked like he was around three, his mom was holding onto him while he rode the horses.”
“His jacket was maroon not red, and yes there is a difference. Why was his mother holding him?”
“He was three! Why wouldn’t she—”
“What did she look like?”
“Um… Normal. Late thirties or so?”
“Just stop. She was in her twenties and the kid had a leg brace. You shouldn’t lie about clues, it’s better to admit ignorance than make things up. It makes all the difference in the field.” Dick concluded, pushing out a sigh.
Tim laughed awkwardly, some of the tension shaking out of his shoulders. “Geez— And I thought this stuff would be a breeze.”
“So did Jason.” Dick said before he could stop himself. A shadow fell over the pair of them, the air much colder. Dick’s mouth felt dry, and he swore one of the kids still riding the carousel had Jason’s curly bangs. “...Bruce and I won’t let something like that happen again.”
𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹
Dick was sitting at home. It had been a few months since that day in the park, and to the best of his knowledge, Tim was still not allowed out in the field. He’d been helping out behind the scenes, but he hadn’t even worn the suit yet. Tim seemed disappointed, Dick couldn’t be any more relived. Maybe this is how it would be, Tim wouldn’t even wind up in the suit, no villains would ever get pointed his way. Hidden and safe, the way he should be.
He’d moved out of New York, pausing his time with the Titans to find his purpose again. And so, that meant moving back to Gotham. He was in the city proper, closer to the action than Bruce was. Despite that, he couldn’t find it in him to do much patrolling. Everything had felt kind of… Aimless. He’d ruined things with Kory, turned his back on his team. He barely even felt like Nightwing when he looked in the mirror.
The TV was on. He hadn’t even really remembered turning it on, but the background noise was nice. He got up off the couch, moving to make himself some dinner as the reporter continued talking.
“London Police is currently working with INTERPOL to track down the assailants. Now, our final story takes us to the Caribbean, where there is still no word on the missing plane carrying Gotham industrialists Jack and Janet Drake. The plane, which set off from Antigua this morning, was set to arrive in Kingstown several hours ago. But there’s been no trace of it. Jack and Janet have a single son, Timothy Drake, who is currently in boarding school. More updates as we get them.”
Dick moved out of the kitchen, leaving behind his half assembled food to grab his phone. He held it up to his ear as he dialed Wayne Manor. It rang once. Twice. Three times.
“Wayne Manor, this is Alfred.”
“Alfie! I just heard on the news, the Drakes. Is— Tim’s there, right?” Dick asked, his voice frantic. The poor kid. He remembered what it was like, to be alone.
“He is, he’s up in his room. He’s asked to be left alone, but I must admit I am quite worried about the lad.” Alfred said, his tone somber now.
“Can— Would Bruce mind if I came over? I just want to make sure he’s okay.” Dick and Bruce weren’t in the same rocky place as when Tim first came into his life, but feelings were still tense between them. An unstable truce held up almost entirely by nostalgia, grief, and Tim’s presence.
“I think that would be quite alright. I’ll make your bed up for you.”
Dick was on the road no more than two minutes later. It was only about ten minutes from his apartment to the Manor and by some kind of miracle, the interstate was clear enough for him to make it in eight.
Alfred had the door open before Dick had even gotten off his bike. He ran upstairs, throwing his gratitude over his shoulder as he ran to Tim’s room. The door was closed, Dick stopping short to collect his thoughts before knocking.
“Tim? You in there, kid?” He asked, pressing his ear up to the door.
“Go away— ‘m fine. Bruce’s down in the cave.” Tim’s voice came through, slightly muffled through the wood. He sounded upset, as though he’d just been crying.
“I didn’t come here to see Bruce, I came here to see you. Can you open the door?”
There was a long pause before Dick heard footsteps approaching the door, him backing up to give Tim a little space. The door opened slowly, Tim’s head poking out to look over Dick. His eyes were red and slightly puffy, nose irritated from wiping at it.
Dick sighed, forcing a small smile on his face as he held his hands out for a hug. “C’mere, Timmy.”
Tim moved forward, burying his face in Dick’s chest. He shook under Dick’s hold as the tears started back up, silently at first but before long Tim was practically gasping for air. Dick moved them inside Tim’s room, taking a seat on his bed as he thread his fingers through Tim’s hair.
“‘S okay. It’s still early, it’s entirely possible that they just got a little lost, had to make an emergency detour somewhere. I know it’s scary, but don’t assume the worst just yet.” Dick said, leaning down to press his lips to the crown of Tim’s head. He was slightly worried that he was overstepping his bounds, that they weren’t this close yet. But Tim didn’t seem to be uncomfortable. In fact, his breathing seemed more stable, less like desperate choking noises.
“She used to call me Timmy. My mom.” He got out after a second, following it with a shaky sigh. “I’m— What am I supposed to do?”
“Not a whole lot you can do, little wing. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Dick said, pulling Tim closer, unable to stop wondering if he had doomed Tim to this life. If maybe he’d kept his stupid mouth shut, Tim would be sitting at home and live without a care in the world. Maybe it was all his fault.
𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹
The situation did not get much better in the following days. Tim had been withdrawn, spending all his time either in his room or in the Cave trying to solve the Moneyspider case. Dick tried to help, but it was clear Tim wasn’t buying into the ‘shoulder to cry on’ routine. His parents disappearance had upgraded all the way to kidnapping and Bruce had gone out to Haiti to try and solve the situation himself.
Bruce had always been like that, if he tried hard enough he could fix every problem in the world. Headstrong and stubborn, Dick remembered it from his childhood. They were similar in that nature, just wanting to feel like something they did mattered, that they could help everyone. That another kid wouldn’t lose their parents the same way they both had. That Robin wasn’t a curse.
Dick was sitting down in the Cave, poking around in the computer to see if there was any cases he could put some energy into, just to feel useful while he stayed in the Manor. There wasn’t much, organized crime had seen a spike, maybe he should look into it.
The sound of the door to the Manor opening broke him from his thoughts, Tim’s silhouette making it’s way down the stairs. As he got closer, Dick could see a wide grin on his face, a little out of place considering the events of yesterday.
“What’s up, kiddo?” Dick asked, spinning his chair a bit to face Tim.
“I did it! I caught the Moneyspider— He was just some anarchist kid.” Tim explained, beaming at Dick before looking over at the Robin suit in the case. All three Robins in one room. “At least that’s one less thing to worry about now.”
“That’s great news! I’m really proud of you.” Dick said, pushing himself up from his chair to ruffle Tim’s hair up. “Now we just gotta get you out on the streets and you’ll be a proper crime fighter.” He added, feeling slightly sick at the prospect.
“Once Bruce comes back, he’ll have no choice. Robin’s already outpaced him on a case!” Tim joked, crossing his arms over his chest. It was the happiest Dick had seen him in a while, even before his parent’s kidnapping.
As Dick was about to respond, he heard his phone buzz against the desk he’d left it at. Sighing he moved away from Tim to pick it up. “Hey, this is Dick.”
“Dick?” Bruce’s voice. He didn’t even need to check the caller ID. He sounded… bad. “Are you alone?”
“Um—” He glanced over his shoulder, Tim was looking up at Jason’s mask, lost in thought. “No, the fledgling’s here too. What’s going on?” Dick lowered his voice, angling his phone closer to his ear so Tim wouldn’t hear anything.
“I need you to put me on the phone with him.” Bruce said, a stern command. It didn’t take a man trained by the world’s greatest detective to figure out what was wrong here. “Now, Dick.”
Dick wanted to scream. Why even fucking call him in the first place? Why not just call Tim directly— Why make Dick sit and watch as Tim suffered the same heartbreak he knew all too well. And then it dawned on him. So that Dick would be there. The way Jim Gordon was for Bruce, the way Bruce was there for him. So Tim didn’t have to be alone.
He was silent, walking back over to Tim and holding his phone out. He tried to do his best poker face, to not let slip what was going on. To allow Tim those final moments of innocence.
“B?” Tim asked, sounding unaware. Bruce must have started talking because Tim’s mouth fell open just a bit, before his bottom lip started to quiver. Dick clenched his fist, digging his nails into the soft flesh of his palm. Maybe this really was all some sick curse. “O—Okay. I’m— Yeah.” Tim finished shakily, lowering Dick’s phone from his ear.
Time seemed to freeze at that moment. Tim and Dick were staring at each other. Dick was no longer the twenty-year-old vigilante, just a ten-year-old acrobat and Tim was the thirteen-year-old boy genius. And both their parents were dead. Orphans, shunned by good luck and beloved my misfortune.
Everything started back up again, and Dick moved forward quickly, pulling Tim tightly against his chest. “Tim, Tim, I’m so sorry.” The younger boy grabbed him tightly, erupting into tears almost immediately. He shook against Dick’s chest, Dick unable to shake how rattled he felt. Was this all life was? A cycle? Parents ripped out of their children’s lives, dooming them forever. Except it was Dick who’d sentenced Tim to this. It was always his fault.
“I know, I know. You’re okay, I’m right here.” Dick tried to be comforting, in defiance of how much he hated himself for this. “I’m so sorry.” He said again, and this time it was about more than just Tim’s parents.