Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Tim

So maybe, now thinking, Tim seeing evidence of Bruce's survival after a break down in the manor was not the most convincing sight. Red eyed, dishevelled and shaking. It wasn't the sight of a stable individual. That didn't make him wrong.

Someone can be a bit unstable for a second and also right about something.

Especially that something being someone they thought was dead- wasn't!

Oh yea, Tim's going to go see someone in New York. Just not a someone Dick would want him too, not a therapist to try and convince him he's wrong and seeing 'signs' in grief.

To grieve, Bruce would have to be dead, and he's not.

So Tim can't be grieving.

...

And it was pretty hypocritical for Dick to suggest therapy for Tim when Damian is right there with a knife in his hand behind him! If any of them need therapy right now, it's the child trying to be introduced into society- with civilians. People who won't just take an attempt at their life as shits and giggles because it was a child.

If any of them needed therapy it would be Damian, or Jason- even Dick himself before Tim. The only time he's going to go to therapy is so he can tell them this entire story with the addition of 'And I told them so!' when he gets to the part about Bruce being alive.

He watches the sky line change from the smog filled city to open water as he rides a train across the bridge, away from Gotham. It's not the first time he's leaving the city, it's his first time without a return date. Or a plan to return in mind.

Tim was the one that was leaving, Gotham turning into a distant gray blob, so why did he feel like everyone was leaving him instead.

It was fine. He was just visiting a friend. It's fine.

He wanted something, just one message- one word. 'Don't' And he wouldn't, he'd jump out the window and crawl back if he had to. He'd shout at himself for being so pathetic, he'd cry in frustration like he wants to do anyway but he'd go back.

His screen remains empty.

He leaves it on the tray, the screen facing up so he'll see any notifications, and he grabs an envelope from his bag.

When Superman brought the fake body of Bruce to the cave, Wally West had come with him. Momentarily, Tim had mistaken him for Bart. Maybe that was a sign of instability... the first? Definitely not.

Wally tried to console him but he didn't want it, didn't want to accept it at the time. It was all too much.

He left as quickly as he came, an envelope left in Tim's hands from his best friend. He hadn't expected Bart to be someone to leave letters, their lives were full of danger and Bart was saved from captors who forced him to live in a virtual reality to force him to grow up mentally. But his friend made it a point to enjoy life. It's now not so surprising when Bart was so close to death at a young age, that once he had people that he'd leave them something, just in case.

The letter was small, barely three sentences before a: 'See you when I see you.'

He made it sound like they'd see each other again, he couldn't tell if he was hopeful or devastated more.

Because- what were the chances?

He chose to not think about it.

 The Impulse Buy- Crash Cruiser, was the ship of Young Justice. They had been stuck on a planet over-run by alien wildlife, Bart was separated and completely panicked. Meaning that he got swindled into buying a ship, the Impulse Buy as he now calls it.

The rest hadn't been impressed, with the vendor who swindled Bart, Tim could only watch as Cassie tried to get their money back. It was useless.

Tim did appreciate the ship with time, they could do anything they wanted to it- although Bart always made sure he had the last say. It was his impulse buy.

Bart had 'left him' the ship, which- fair enough, it wasn't JL property since they kept it a secret from them.

He shook his head, it would be convenient. Tim just misses his friend though, he'd rather have him back.

His friend isn't here though, Bart and Kon are gone. Young Justice is no more but haunting memories for him and Cassie.

Dicks going to be the new Batman now. Tim worked hard so that Bruce couldn't brush him aside, they were partners.

Batman and Robin.

But now Tim isn't Robin.

And Bruce isn't Batman.

Although Bruce is the one that's gone, Tim's the one that feels lost.

Without Robin, The Mission- that drive-

He doesn't know who Timothy Jackson Drake is, or who he wants to be. Without Robin, without Bruce Wayne.

The only thing he knows is who he needs to be, someone that can save Bruce. Someone that can bring his dad back because he can't lose another one, he can't lose Bruce as well.

Bruce, most recently, feels like the only thing tying him to their dysfunctional and crumbling family. His bond with Bruce is what brought him into his family in the first place, but now it's the only thing keeping him tethered to it.

Unknowingly, but predictably, Tim's life came to gravitate around Bruce.

Now without him around, Tim's life has lost it's spark- it's mission- it's sun.

There's no Bruce to teach him new tricks and tips, something that always had Tim receiving a small smile afterwards.

There's no Bruce overcome with grief who needs a case to obsess over that he can join in with.

There's no Bruce annoying others with orders and borderline non-verbal who needs Tim as the immovable object to his unstoppable, self-sabotaging force.

Which is strange, usually Bruce is the immovable object. But Tim has been compared to Bruce, Batman, many times. Never in a flattering way, even if that's how he saw it anyway.

Now that he's lost Robin, he can't help but look back at the last few years with a new lens. That a lot of the thoughts behind his actions were based on other people and how they felt. Tim's emotions, actions, are now his own. No moods of the people around him to dictate how he shows himself, how he feels, how he should act. 

He doesn't regret choosing to make his way into Bruce's life, his family.

But maybe quietly, silently, he can hope in another life he doesn't make that trip to his grieving next door neighbours estranged son. That he goes to school like he should have, that he carries on and becomes blissfully ignorant to the hurt he could have lived if he had taken that road to Wayne Manor. Maybe in another life, he wouldn't have lost so much. Maybe he would be happy.

In this life though, he did take that road, and becoming Robin was one of the easiest decisions he ever made.

Now it's turned into a footpath that's slowly being swallowed by the forest around him and he doesn't know whether to stay still or go forward. Not knowing where it will take him, what he will be when he comes out the other side and re-joins the road with Bruce next to him.

He feels paralysed with the decision because he knows he's close to jumping back into the deep end.

After Kon... he didn't do well. That much was evident for everyone, and probably why it's so easy for everyone to dismiss him now. But he got better- even after Steph, he was getting better at handling it all. He was doing better. He was trying.

But Bruce- Tim can almost feel it consuming him slowly. Unlike Kon where he was drop kicked off the cliff of sanity, he can feel himself slipping. Like he's holding a rope off that same cliff and his hands are losing grip.

Bruce would know what to do. He probably had contingencies for this exact situation, maybe he had a point about all those plans. Because now Tim's lost, without a back-up plan.

What would Bruce do?

Eventually the train stops in New York, still no notifications.

With a sigh he put on a cap, dark blue that match his jeans. Walking out of the station he moves to find a coffee shop. Thankfully, the station he stopped at was near the out skirts, the streets busy but not over-run.

It makes him less tense but he still keeps a watchful eye on the people around him, the chime from the door to the cafe rings obnoxiously when he walks in. He orders his coffee, paying in cash and standing with his back to a wall.

The chime rings again and Tim's eyes rake over the people again, there's a man looking at him. Average build, blonde hair, glasses and a grey suit. The man smiles and Tim stares, he just wanted coffee.

"John?" "Sam!"

Tim walks up to grab his drink and leave quickly, New York's weirdos are not his problem. His eyes rake over the mans hands and he pauses, scars aren't unusual for people to have. Scars from a knife even less, mangled knuckles even more less, it was probably nothing. His steps don't falter as he leaves the cafe.

"Hey, kid?"

A hand reaching for his shoulder has him moving away quickly, nevermind- maybe weirdos just gravitate towards him.

"You okay?"

His eyebrows furrow, "Yea?" He moves his body subtly into a strong stance, defensive- it isn't unusual and it's second nature at this point. But the man, he moves as a response. His body relaxing and turned away from him slightly. Not a normal New York weirdo then.

Tim hopes this isn't someone he's supposed to recognise.

"You got a place to stay tonight?" He gestures to Tim's bags and his brain short-circuits for a second. Did this guy think he was a runaway?

"What?" He can't help how it slips out, "Wha- I'm fine, I got a place."

"Hey, it's okay, nothing has to happen. Just want to make sure you're okay."

Tim's jaw almost drops, the man's probably in the force- paramedic? What's he even supposed to say? He's not a runaway, and he has enough money to last probably his entire life in a random city. He remembers to simply lie, stomping down his confusion.

"Yea, my guardian is just busy so decided to take a walk. Everything's fine." He tries to give a smile but can see how it falls flat, who even was this guy. A good Samaritan? Can't he good Samaritan people that actually need help?

The man pauses for a second, his eyes aren't just calmly watching him- they're analytical. "..Are you sure? Me and my wife know a lot of people in the area, we do a lot of work in shelters and things."

God, Tim needs this guy to stop trying to help him right now. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he doesn't think as he takes it out, "Yea, this is probably them now." He just needs this guy to go away, it's probably an email from-

>Will you be home for dinner, Master Tim?

He just forgets where he is as he stares at the text. And it's ridiculous really, how would they have even known Tim left Gotham? Did he just expect them to sit there watching his location to see where he is? It's stupid, to expect that- for them to notice that in a few hours Tim left the country.

But a childish part of him wanted that. Which makes it even more stupid.

"Here." The soft word has him being punted right back into reality. "If you need anything, that's my number and the number of a shelter that accepts kids. I'm Sam, Sam Hollis- just mention I sent you."

He bites back a comment about how he's not a kid. To leave, he just accepts the paper, walking away and putting his phone in his pocket.

Sam Hollis. He recognises that name, with his eyebrows even more scrunched together now he manages to slowly walk away, feeling like he's going to see that man again. Hopefully not in a night-time activity way.

It takes a small bus ride to get to his destination. He scrolls through his phone, checking the airport strip which was paid in cash to house the Crash Cruiser. Tim's not addressing it as the Impulse Buy. He's contemplative, a plan forming in his mind- but it's like somethings stopping him from fully thinking it through.

He shakes his head outside the office, the journey an hour long, he goes through the security easily- he did place it all.

As he walks through plain white corridors, just outside the room he wants his phone rings. He takes a deep breath before answering it, the name lighting up the small screen like it's mocking him.

"Hey, Tim." Dick sounds tired, his voice propels through the speaker and hits Tim right in the throat. "You weren't home for dinner, um, did you eat?"

"So I'm too old for Robin but not old enough to cook my own meals?" He can't help the biting reply, his body feels like it's wound up- waiting for a hit.

"Tim," Dick sighs, he feels embarrassed at the shame that pools in his gut from the sound. "Can- can we just meet up? Have a conversation?"

He swallows, "I'm not in Gotham."

"Oh, what? Where are you?"

The question makes his chest constrict, he hadn't even noticed. How long would it have been if Alfred hadn't messaged about dinner?

"What do you want, Dick?" He replies instead of an answer.

"Just-" His voice cuts off and Tim focuses on the feeling of nails against his palm. "I'm sorry, Tim. I really am. I just, everything's been turned upside down so quick and I'm struggling to find my footing. I didn't- I don't, know what to do with Damian, so when Alfred suggested him being Robin-"

Tim sucks in a breath and everything else Dick says doesn't get heard through the cotton in his ears. He's frozen to the spot as his eyes lose focus and all he can do is breath as his chest burns.

"..Tim?"

He blinks once, pressing nails harder into his palm until it's real, then twice. The world snaps back into place with a betraying clarity to it.

"I get it. Damian needed Robin- stability, so you gave it to him. So do I, Dick. I thought- I thought I'd earned it." Stupid, he'd never been insecure about Robin until now.

"You did!" Dick agrees reverently, his words strong and soft in a way only he can get away with.

"Then why was he wearing that costume?!" He can't help but shout down the phone, the question and action grating on every nerve. "You didn't even talk to me first!"

"I admit I didn't do it well but it needed to happen-"

"Needed to happen, because Damian needed it. Damian needs that, needs this. Dick, Robin is so much more then a leash for an out of control child-"

"He's not out of control. Are you forgetting how you left the cave yesterday? You punched him in the face." A moment of weakness, Tim will admit. Who was he fighting a child? ..Jason?

"You can't act like he was innocent- or are you just ignoring the attempted murder? You know, that seems to be a theme with you." And wasn't that a kick in the teeth, maybe a bit dramatic but still.

It did force him to reflect, on not just Tim but Jason too. He's been doing a lot of reflecting recently, it's a tiring act. Thinking things over is overrated.

"I think we're all acting a little out of control right now."

Tim rolls his eyes at the segue. "Forget it, it doesn't matter," he lies. "Damian has Robin, what's the problem now?"

There's a pause over the phone, Tim waits as he can feel his legs dying leaning against the wall like this. "You aren't here."

Tim nearly cries out: 'tell me to come back. Tell me- tell me- believe me-'

"You did earn it, Robin." Dick clarifies, "You saved us, Tim. Not just Bruce, but me too. You aren't just a side-kick, you never were just that. You're family but-"

"Family doesn't make decisions for each other. Family talks to each other. Family is around when they're needed."

"You're the one running away!" Dick snaps back, frustration peaking it's ugly head.

Tim can feel the boil under his skin growing, it makes the cold tear tracks on his face scald against his skin. "I'm not running! I'm following a lead, I'm trying to save him- again! After you've given up on him- again!"

"I have proof!"

"Stop. Tim- just stop." Dick pleads and the line goes silent. He wipes away stray tears and gets himself together, he feels so frustrated. Usually his anger is quiet, he can control it, but this? This angry hurt that's pushing on his ribs trying to claw out of his chest makes him want to scream until his voice is hoarse- until he's being listened to.

He knows shouting doesn't mean they'll listen.

"I'm going to find him." He stands just a little bit taller, legs numb from leaning against the wall. His voice is strong, a contrast to how he must look.

"..Tim." His voice is soft, careful in the way when someone already thinks you're going to be wrong. Tim grew up with people using that voice on him, a smart child with too much free time against condescending adults, he always proved them wrong. "You're chasing a ghost, baby bird."

Tim has to swallow again, throat constricting painfully. "I'm right," he protests but it sounds weak even to him.

"You want to be right, Timmy."

And there it is, that's the hit. Tim feels the breath knocked out of him and he forgets how to breathe. He does want to be right, of course he does, but it's not like he's believing this from nothing. He didn't get this idea from thin air, it's a crumb left along a gravel path and Tim feels like he's the only one that can tell what that crumb could mean.

Maybe, maybe it is such a small thread but- why is he the only one seeing the possibility?

"No," he grounds out. Jaw set in determination to not let his words waiver. "I am right." He ends the call and presses his forehead to the screen as he takes deep breaths.

The ache that settles in Tim's chest is a familiar one, it's kind of devastating.

He knocks on the door and opens it, eyes immediately finding the monitor above the bed. "Hey."

"I. Was. Wondering. When. You. Would. Come. Back." The mechanical voice echoes through the room and Tim can't decide whether to watch the screen or Lonnie's body on the bed.

"Would have visited earlier if you missed me, Lonnie." He let his bags drop to the floor, sitting in a chair under the monitor next to the head board. He's just tired now.

"Don't. Use. Your. Lines. On. Me."

"My lines...?"

"As. If. I'd. Want. You. Visiting."

He leans back in the chair, "That hurt my feelings."

"Not. Your. Precious. Feelings."

Tim scoffs, "You've spent way too much time around coding- I've seen your history these past weeks. You started a riot over a car park ATM."

"Let. Me. Just. Go. On. A. Nature. Walk. Instead. Oh."

He has the decency to wince, "Yea, my bad.."

"And. The. Riot. Was. Needed."

"Those fines were written off, so fine good job, but did you need to convince the people to try and destroy every ATM in the city?"

"It. Was. The. Principle."

Tim rolls his eyes, knowing when he's not going to get anywhere. This wasn't even the reason he was here, but maybe he should have visited Lonnie sooner.

"You. Want. Something."

Yea, he wasn't wrong. He's had various contact with Lonnie over the past month, with no luck of finding a cure for him either. "I might be leaving Gotham for a bit, overseas." There's a pause as Lonnie thinks.

"Big. Bat. Making. You. Claustrophobic."

"Something like that." He replies, Lonnie's body is prone on the bed. Giving nothing away to what he's feeling or thinking, he can't see Tim either but it's still a little unnerving.

"Or. Is. It. The. Different. Bat."

Tim stares harder, "Didn't think you'd pay so much attention to Gotham. Batman's fine, still pulling his justice tricks."

"And. Bruce. Wayne."

Yea, Tim should have known Lonnie would be smart enough to figure it out. He honestly didn't think Lonnie would spend much time watching Gotham or it's vigilante's to notice the difference. Eidetic memory is a pain to try and get past when imitating someone, no matter how good a job Dick is doing tricking everyone else.

"I'm going to find him." Tim says, clipped.

"Not. Dead."

"Presumed. I'll find him, that's where I'm going." He doesn't really have a plan but he says it anyway, he knows deep down he's going to go find Bruce no matter where it leads him to.

"Just. You."

He takes a deep breath, "It was a really good fake." He whispers into his hands. If Lonnie could move, Tim can imagine the eyebrow raised he'd be receiving right now.

"Are. You. Sure. You. Want. To. Do. That."

"It's not about want. I need to find him, bring him back."

"From. Where."

After a harsh breath he has to admit, "I'm not sure yet. I saw something, something that he left behind so we'd find him- if that is even slightly true then I need to try. He never gave up on me, I can't just let him go without even trying."

"So. Why. Come. Here. Looking. For. An. Excuse. Go. Be. A. Good. Solider."

He leans forward and drags a hand over his face, "I don't even know."

"Losing. Your. Touch."

He feels like he's loosing a lot of things.

He swallows, but it feels heavy in his throat. He wants this to not be so hard, to hurt this much. For once, he just wants this to be easy and he knows that it won't be.

"Mind if I work here for a bit?"

"Just. Don't. Distract. Me."

He huffs out a laugh as he grabs books from his bag, opening them up and blinking to concentrate. A notepad on his thigh. He doesn't need the systems on the batcave, they'd be better but Tim's fine here.

His fingers hover over the pages, he thinks of contacting Babs. Dick is probably talking to her, to complain or ask to keep an eye on him.

As much as it makes his jaw tick, Dick can have Babs- probably will need her to get through being Batman. Tim isn't touching the Robin subject, for his own mental health- he's just going to ignore the issue. It's either that or spiral.

With his fingers now moving and Oracle's icon ignored from his pager.

It starts slow, as it always does, he searches the time-frame first, cycling through ancestry and past history figures. Tim's just glad that the Wayne's were vaguely always prominent figures, it makes this easier, there name is mentioned once every fifth page. He follows the trails back, different lines of the family leading to different places and Tim sits there for atleast three hours following those tree lines through the pages.

He asks boots up his small wrist computer, something he shouldn't be wearing as Tim Drake, looking into the past of one 'Sam Hollis' a break.

On his third break he looks up at Lonnie. "Dude, why are you hacking a polish diplomats computer?"

"Reparations." Was Lonnie's only reply, it didn't make sense but Tim didn't wanna touch it after that answer.

"I. Do. Have. A. Job. In. New. York."

"Yea," He crosses out names and writes down more books that could be helpful, "If you're trying to get me to join a riot or help you hack into government- or even government officials accounts, I swear to god- Moneyspider was not built for this." "Calm. Down. It's. A. Night. Time. Job." "If you put all the information together I can look it over tonight. Get back to you tomorrow?"

"Okay."

"Okay," Tim agrees and he's about to open a new window for him to drop the case work into but pop-ups and blank windows fill his screen instead. "Lonnie!"

"You. Let. Your. Guard. Down."

Tim sighs as he starts the slow job of closing each tab individually. "Do you even have a case?"

"Yes."

Silence covers the room once more but it's comfortable, Lonnie keeps trying to hack his computer to show pop-ups to distract him though. That's just annoying.

It's only when he's been staring at the screen, got over two dozen books to pick up and multiple names to research, that he see's something written. It's nothing, but it's something- it's everything. And he can only stare with wide eyes, hope burning through his body as the embers finally take place.

His pager vibrates, and a frown takes place on his face as he logs into the email system set up by the JL.

He can't read anymore, vision blurring from the anger that boils once more. It was bad enough that Dick didn't believe him, but did he have to convince everyone else to just not try?! To just give up too? It's like he doesn't even want Bruce back.

He covers his wrist computer with his sleeve.

Tim get's why Bruce doesn't like the Justice League that much, it's full of snitches. Why did everyone have to be in each others business, just answer emails privately or delete them like normal people.

Before he can even stop himself, he has his phone in his hand and storming out of the room. The phone barely rings three times before it's picked up.

"Timmy?"

"I get that you might not believe me- trust me, I get it. But to tell the Justice League that I'm making this up?! What the fuck, Dick?!"

"Tim, listen- it's just, Clark messaged me about your emails and he was concerned. We're all concerned-"

"Well take that concern and shove it. What happened to all of that, you don't see me as a side-kick- I'm too smart- well adjusted, or do you just get to pick and choose when to trust my judgement?" He spits out the question and it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth how real it hurt to put out there.

"Just, Tim, that's not it- I do trust you."

"You know, that might've been the Batman that you had but it wasn't the one I had. So stop taking out your frustrations at B by parading around like a ghost of the Batman you hated. You don't believe in me? Fine."

"Tim-" Dick's voice is strangled, frustration or anger or guilt: he can't tell.

"You don't want to help me? Fine. I'm not Batman, the Justice League isn't my only resource. But do not call me like I'm the one running away- you're the one who's giving up." The 'again' is left unsaid this time.

He doesn't tell Dick what he found, Mordecai Wayne doesn't exist, he didn't exist. Never existed. Yet his portrait was hung in Wayne manor, a man who looked exactly like Bruce Wayne. It was proof, not undeniable proof, but it was something. A start.

"I just want you to be okay, I'm trying to protect you."

Tim can feel his heart beating out of his chest, it's taking a physical toll to try and stay composed. "And I want you to believe in me. But I don't need you to. The next time I'll contact you it'll be with evidence or Bruce, don't contact me again."

"Tim-"

He ends the call with his breath ragged and his thoughts going a mile a minute. He's not going to sit here and research, sit still and wait for evidence to fall into his lap, wait for people to come through. That's not how his mother raised him, she raised him to go out and take what he wanted.

Maybe Dick didn't see him as Robin, maybe he never had. Even though it was Dick who put it in Tim's mind to be Robin, Alfred was the one who gave him the suit, but that little seed Dick planted: 'I can't go back to thirteen, I can't go back to Robin.'

So Tim had become Robin, he might've had to use exposure therapy techniques on Batman so he'd be eventually accepted but Tim had done it. Dick had approved- he practically asked Tim to be Robin.

What even was Robin to Dick? What did it mean to him that this is how he acts with the name and costume? With the people who carry it?

He's tired of questions- he has so many that are unanswered.

There's two answers he has right now.

1. Bruce is alive.

2. Having Dicks trust isn't enough.

He doesn't want to be just trusted- he wants to be respected, believed.

And it makes him angry. Back to an anger he knows, he's familiar with- he feels cold and torn apart. He knows, because it's not enough, he knows he won't go back to Gotham until Bruce is with him as well.

If he's wrong, for once if he's wrong, and Bruce isn't lost somewhere? How hard can necromancy be to learn?

It's all about determination and intent, right? That's all Tim has right now. That and anger.

He makes his way back into Lonnie's room, he doesn't know if he heard the conversation- doesn't care either.

"I'm going to meet someone, might be helpful for a project." He collects his stuff and silence surrounds them, he can only think of quiet prayers. He knows Bruce is alive, he's out there somewhere. Tim knows he is.

They can think he's in denial, he's grieving. But Bruce is all that Tim has and he has to be alive.

"I. Hope. He. Is. Alive."

Tim stops at the door to look back at Lonnie, surprised by the statement.

"For. Your. Sake."