Chapter Text
Nothing comes without a price. Tim knows this very well, and has learned to be wary of blank checks given to immortal assassins to cash at their leisure. So, when Ra’s finally calls in his favor, Tim is more than a little hesitant to answer the call.
The details of the invitation are sparse. Ra’s gives him a time and a location, which Tim recognizes as the same League of Assassins fortress where they’d first contacted Bruce from beyond the time-grave. Lately, things between Ra’s and Tim have been quiet for almost a year now, ever since Bruce came back. With Tim’s goal achieved, he had little reason to see Ra’s (and in fact, many reasons not to), and Ra’s had yet to cash in his end of the deal for his role in bringing the Batman back from time. Tim had begun to hope that maybe Ra’s wouldn’t call on him at all, but he knew that was only wishful thinking.
Now, the invitation awaits him. The date is three days out. That night, Tim toys with the parchment of the invitation. He hasn’t told anyone else about it yet. His family, the coven—things have still been strained.
After Bruce came back, Tim didn’t want to say that he expected things to go back to normal, but he had hoped things would change a little more than they did. Bruce had welcomed him warmly, but Tim still kept a cautious distance. Dick or Damian never did apologize for how things had been left off, and Tim didn’t either. Steph would text and call every once in a while, and Tim would answer, chat for a few minutes, then let her go, but they didn’t really talk about what had happened either. It seemed the coven was content to pretend that the events during Bruce’s absence never really happened.
Tim’s hardly been in any hurry to bring things up either. He doesn’t know how much Bruce knows about what Tim’s done, but he has to assume he’s been briefed about it. Certainly, he knows about Tim’s rune tattoos, and that he’d allied with Ra’s. He’s managed to escape talk of it thus far, but he knows whatever Bruce would have to say would likely not be positive.
Of course, Tim will still drop into Gotham occasionally to patrol the streets, where he’ll bump into the others, but they don’t interact outside of costume much at all. Tim’s managed to avoid the manor in all this time, instead making a base out of an apartment building, a batcave all of his own downtown. Even still, he splits most of his time between there and his old apartment in Prague. Tim Drake makes appearances where he needs to, but never with Bruce Wayne or Dick Grayson these days. The distance isn’t what it was at their worst, but Tim wouldn’t say he’s close to the rest of his coven anymore.
He wonders if he even has a place in the coven after everything they’ve been through. A coven’s bond is more than just a social agreement—each member is inducted into the coven with a ritual to entwine their magical energy with the other’s. Tim’s bond is still there, but it feels weaker than ever—only the occasional pulse of magical energy or a faint whiff of emotion, but never anything more. Spending so much time away from the others hasn’t done anything to help that, either. There’s a chasm growing between him and the other bats.
So when Tim gets the invitation from Ra’s, he doesn’t call to let any of his so-called family know. He’s not eager to broach any Ra’s-adjacent topic with them, and he’s certain that Ra’s would prefer that he come alone. The second that he tells the coven about his meeting, he knows any hope of a one-on-one meeting is lost. In any case, while Ra’s has done many horrible things, Tim can’t deny that he really had helped him in his time of greatest need, when his coven only pushed him away. So, maybe there is a small amount of selfish desire to punish his family and to thank Ra’s in the desire to go alone. Tim is a man of his word. He knows he’s going to go, and it won’t be with any coven member.
He decides not to tell Kon, either. The two of them had promised to each other when Kon came back from the dead that they would do things together. For a while, they did. Kon was instrumental at his side in the final journey to bring Bruce back from the dead. But they both have responsibilities in very different cities, and a year later, with Bart having come back and the team reunited, Tim and Kon spend less time together than they did before.
Tim’s been in a better place, and Kon’s seemed a little more willing to step away from Tim’s side to take care of his own business in Hawaii and Kansas and wherever else his adventures take him. They still see each other, probably more than anyone else Tim sees these days, but lately they’ve been separate more than together.
Secret-keeping with Ra’s and Kon has burned him in the past, but if Tim told Kon that he was going to meet Ra’s again, he’s not sure he could do anything to keep the Kryptonian away from the meeting. Tim has absolutely no desire for their paths to cross, so when the invitation comes, he decides not to tell Kon either. He makes the decision with some amount of guilt, but he’ll just have to ask for forgiveness when he sees Kon next.
Unexpectedly, Kon surprises him by stopping by the day before the meeting, but Tim keeps his plans under careful wraps still. They chat about their recent missions, Kon talking about a team up he got to do with Wonder Girl, and Tim tells him about his misadventures with Jason for a case in Gotham. It’s nice, and Tim definitely feels a little worse about keeping his plans from Kon, but he doesn’t buckle. He makes plans to rewatch a show with Kon later, they say their goodbyes, and Tim is left to prepare to see Ra’s.
When he arrives the next day at Ra’s compound, it looks very much the same as the last time he’d been here. I guess that’s immortals for you… not big fans of change. Years ago, coming here, being not only greeted but welcomed by Ra’s assassins would have been unthinkable. Now, after all the time he’s spent here, it feels almost familiar. Of course, his guard is still extremely high. Regardless of time spent together, he’s still at the heart of the League of Assassins. Caution is well due.
The sense of déjà vu is strong as Tim is led to the cavern where he first made contact with Bruce lost in time a year ago. Ra’s awaits him in there, looking the whole evil-mage part in his silk shirt and dramatic green and gold cloak. His smile is a little too pleased when Tim enters flanked by assassins.
“Well, well. You’ve come, detective.”
“Ra’s,” Tim nods. He takes a moment to observe the room. The wide cavern is lit by rows of dripping candles, casting their dancing light deep into the shadows far overhead. There’s an uncomfortable energy in the room, Tim’s magic warning him of a long history of blood in this space. He shakes off the feeling, taking in the center of the rough stone floor, where a large spell circle has been drawn. His eyes flick over the runes, trying to make sense of the magic written in front of him.
It’s not a spell he’s seen before, but elements of it look very familiar from his own time working on spell circles here. Runes for death, runes for life, runes for searching. Whatever this is, Tim feels a coil of sinister unease tugging in his stomach. Just what has he agreed to here?
“I see you’ve discovered the reason I’ve summoned you here today.” Ra’s tilts his head back to appraise Tim. “What do you make of it? Show me what you’ve learned in our time together.”
Tim walks into the circle, looking closer at the runes, tracing the lines and intersections. After a moment, he turns to Ra’s. “It’s something new. Reaching over the border between life and death.” That much is obvious to Tim, though he can’t quite tell which direction the spell is intended to cross.
“Your skills haven’t dulled completely in our time apart.” Ra’s nods. “You and I spent much time studying those lost in time and how to reach out to them. Today, we will push our research even further.”
Tim feels a cold sweat prickle on his back. He’s had no immediate cause for alarm, but all of his senses itch with apprehension.
“What exactly did you bring me here to do, Ra’s?”
Ra’s smile is all razor-sharp canines. “Today, we will do what very few have been able to accomplish before. We shall return someone from the land of the dead to the realm of the living.”
Tim narrows his eyes. “You’ve brought people back to life here before. Why would you involve me?”
“It is true that for me, the line between life and death has been blurrier. But I’m sure you know, detective, that any resurrections that have taken place here before have involved the aid of a Lazarus pit, a resource extremely limited in quantity, and not without its own… cost.”
Tim thinks of Jason and a blade once held to his own neck, and nods. He’s certainly seen up close and personal just what kind of side-effects Lazarus pit restoration can involve.
“On this day, you and I will together resurrect a man without any such aid. Such a feat has never been accomplished, but that shall soon change.”
Mind whirling, Tim keeps going. “Then why cast this spell with me? Surely you have many expert mages of your own, here.”
“Perhaps I simply enjoy your company, detective.” Tim shivers with a different kind of unease this time, but levels his stare at Ra’s. True as that may (horrifyingly) be, Ra’s wouldn’t call in his one favor for a day of Tim’s time alone. Amusement narrows Ra’s eyes, but he nods again at Tim.
“Your gift and demonstrated ability to reach into the past is very uncommon. This spell is not dissimilar to the one used to find your Batman. Your familiarity with this magic and unique abilities make you the obvious choice to be here today.”
Tim pinches his lips. Okay, sure. But he still feels like he’s missing the bigger picture.
“So, what? We do this ritual and try to bring someone back to life? Who? Just this one person? Who could be so important to Ra’s Al Ghul?”
“Ever so inquisitive. If you must know, one of my most trusted advisors was unfortunately killed by a man you may have met—Deathstroke. He still had much to give in service to me. I’d like him back in my court.”
“And this is it? One ritual and we’re done?”
Eyes icy, Ra’s gestures to attendants at the door. They nod and push out of the doors. “One ritual. A favor, paid.”
“Just this one man?”
“Consider me a disciple of science, detective. I wish to know if it can be done.”
Tim doesn’t like the feel of all this, but all in all, it doesn’t seem like the worst deal he could make with Ra’s. If they succeed, one more evil person comes into the world, but he and Batman have dealt with many bad people over their lifetime. One more likely won’t kill them.
It’s not jumping over any more lines than Tim’s already crossed at this point. At least Ra’s hasn’t asked him to kill. If he had, Tim’s not sure what he would have done.
Taking a minute to consider it all, Tim’s having a hard time finding a reason to say no. He’d also like to get this favor paid and over with. If all goes well, he can put Ra’s out of his life forever starting today, and that on its own seems a deal worth taking. Once his deal with the devil is paid, maybe he can start making steps again to rejoin his coven and find forgiveness for the things he’s done up to now.
Tim swallows once, then turns to face Ra’s head on. “Very well. I accept your terms. One ritual, success or failure, and my debt to you is paid.”
“Paid in full.” Ra’s agrees.
Part of Tim is deeply thankful that Conner is alive and no longer his ghost-shadow, because he can only imagine what he’d have to say if he could hear Tim right now. Doubt wriggles in the back of his mind, and he can picture Kon’s furious words were he here. But the end to this awful bargain and maybe an end to this awful chapter of his life is in front of him, and Tim wants out.
“Well, let’s get to work.”
Ra’s waves to the door, and the attendants that disappeared before return, carrying a large loosely wrapped bundle between them. They lay it in the spell circle between Tim and Ra’s, and as they unwrap it, the stench of decay hits Tim’s throat.
It’s a body, and by the look and thick smell of it, one that’s been dead longer than a day or two. Quiet footsteps, many of them, sound behind Tim, and he turns his attention from the subject of their magical experiment to the door at his back. Dozens of assassins spill into the room, lining the walls. Tim turns back to look at Ra’s.
“What’s with the entourage?”
“Today is a great, pioneering day, Timothy. The League shall bear witness to our work today and forever remember our names as those who made history.”
“That’s a little grandiose.” Tim frowns. He doesn’t like being so surrounded in the face of this unknown magic, but he supposes there’s always assassins everywhere in the League; it’s just a matter of whether they let you see them or not.
“Hardly.” Ra’s dismisses the men preparing the body’s position, and gestures to spot in the circle where several lines meet at one point. “This will be your position. Your role in this spell is to reach out to my advisor in the past. Find a point where you can feel him alive, and focus on bringing that moment as close to here as possible. I will do the rest.”
Tim steps into the spot indicated for him, and Ra’s takes his own position. As soon as he’s in position, Tim can feel in the rising hairs on his neck and arms that the spell circle they’re standing in is extremely potent. In this position, Ra’s energy is almost palpable to him. He’s sure Ra’s can feel him as well.
Ra’s raises his hands to begin casting. The already quiet room seems to fall even quieter. Their eyes meet, and Tim takes a deep readying breath. He can do this. One ritual, and he’s free from Ra’s forever.
Ra’s begins to chant.
The effect is immediate. A strong wind lashes around the room, blowing Tim’s too-long hair everywhere. The spell’s runes flare a blinding green, and Tim closes his eyes and focuses on summoning his own power. In conjunction with Ra’s and the spell circle, the white-hot feeling of magic cracks up his spine through his rune tattoos faster than ever before. The feeling of the power, wild and burning, tastes acrid in his mouth.
Tim holds his own hands out and begins to feel out beyond the confines of this room and this time for Ra’s man. Even dead, Tim can sense the man lying on the ground. He focuses on that energy, reaching out into the past, searching for that same feeling. He traces into the past, following the thread of the energy leading into this room and time further back. It’s slippery, and Tim almost loses it a couple times, but pulls harder, refusing to let go.
Distantly, he feels wetness on his upper lip, and the following taste tells him his nose is bleeding. He’s pushing pretty hard to chase this man down. He needs to be careful in this spell. If he reaches too far, he doesn’t know where he’ll go or what will happen to him.
The thread. Focus on the thread of his energy. Tim recenters himself, and his senses in the cavern fade further away as he reaches deeper into the past. There. The thread twists and winds, but Tim can feel a place where it feels stronger, brighter. He chases it, and without seeing he can feel that he’s found a point where the man was alive in the past. Zeroing in, flashes of a scene fly by him.
People clothed in all black. The glint of metal blade. A shout. The smell of blood. Pieces of the moment leave as fast as they arrive, but Tim tries to hold onto any of them. He can see the fuzzy shape of a man who must be Ra’s lieutenant. He summons a fresh wave of energy, trying to sharpen his connection to the man. The blurry figure turns towards him, reaches his hand out, and Tim stretches to reach back.
Somewhere, in the distance, drums sound harshly, or maybe it’s Tim’s heartbeat. The figure and Tim’s hands touch, and Tim’s heart seems to squeeze tight. Then, another presence is right by his side. This one is familiar, and without seeing anything, Tim can recognize the feel of Ra’s magic.
Together, they pull and fight, trying to drag the figure back to them, back to their bodies, back to the present. Tim can feel the strain on his body as he struggles to keep his hold. As they get closer back, Tim can feel more of himself again, and his muscles are aching, the tang of blood strong in his mouth. They’re so close, and Tim doesn’t dare let go.
He and Ra’s work side by side, magic burning through their bodies as they coax the man closer to life. They’re almost there, Tim can tell, just a push more needed. He focuses deep within himself to where his gift is sending waves of energy out in electric, pulsing waves, and summons one more deep push. Connected with Ra’s, he can feel Ra’s do the same. Together, at the same time, they release the energy into one final stretch.
Roaring fills Tim’s ears, and his heartbeat pounds a thundering crescendo, and he feels the spell drop over a precipice. He feels like he’s falling, tumbling down an abyss, when suddenly he hits the ground.
The real ground, in the cavern. The wind dies down into a light breeze and then nothing at all, and Tim finds himself on his knees in the ring. Unlike the last time he collapsed in a spell circle with Ra’s, no one rushes to catch him. He wipes the back of his hand across the copious blood spilled over his mouth and chin and looks to Ra’s.
Ra’s looks tired too, but his eyes are alight with victory. Tim looks to the center of the spell circle, and his stomach flips when he sees the body, once decayed and very dead, sitting upright, looking very well alive.
“Holy shit.” It actually worked. Tim didn’t expect to fail necessarily, but he didn’t really imagine that they could bring back someone to life, either. He goes to get back to his feet, but it takes a couple tries before his legs can support him. He feels like he’s just been used as a squeaky toy by Bane—every part of his body aches, and his heart still pounds furiously.
Then, Tim looks closer at the man they’d resurrected, and he realizes something looks off. His skin on his arms and chest no longer shows the same signs of decay, but something is wrong about his face. His lips are blackened and cracking, and where his eyes would be, two wrinkly, empty sockets are instead. Horror builds in Tim’s throat.
What has he created here? This… thing… hardly looks human. As if sensing Tim’s gaze, its head turns to face Tim, and he feels his head swim. This is wrong. He shouldn’t be like that.
“Wh—” Tim’s voice is rough, and he tries again. “What did we do, Ra’s?” He looks to Ra’s, but the man looks nothing but triumphant.
“Excellent work, Timothy, most excellent. You did far better than I could have imagined.”
“This is what you wanted? Look at him. This isn’t life.” Tim feels sick looking at the malformed body in front of him, and has to look away. Woozy, he tries to bring the spinning in his head to a stop.
“He will serve his purpose.” Ra’s straightens and brushes off his knees. He reaches out and snaps his fingers once. Melting out of the wall of spectators, a lone assassin approaches with a scabbard in hand. Ra’s draws the blade in one smooth movement.
Tim’s heart, which had been slowly calming, picks right back up. He’s suddenly very aware of his depleted state and precarious surroundings. But the sword is not for him.
With one fluid strike, Ra’s cleaves the head of the creature from its shoulders.
“What the—!” Tim can’t understand. Why go through all that to bring the guy back only to kill him again a second later?
His moment of astonishment is again brought to a dead halt as, as—
He can’t believe his eyes. The body of the creature, still headless moves, arms fumbling out. It shuffles, dropping into a crawl towards where the head had rolled a moment ago. It finds it, picks it up. Puts it back on its neck. Lets go.
The head stays atop its shoulders. The creature stands, straightens, then drops into a low bow in front of Ra’s.
Oh, fuck. Ohhh, fuck. What the hell did I just make?
Ra’s looks over to Tim.
“You should be proud, Timothy. This is the first step in a new era for the League. With your magic and mine together, we can accomplish things even greater than this.”
Tim shakes his head, and regrets it with the new wave of dizziness it sends through him. It takes his full effort not to stumble to the side. “I held up my end of the bargain, did this ritual with you. It’s done, and I’m out. Whatever grandiose plans you’re hoping to recruit me for, I’m not interested.”
Tim takes a step back from the ring, and the assassins around him bristle. Tim doesn’t like this at all. He needs to get out of here, away from whatever Ra’s is planning next. He’s woozy and exhausted and not at all prepared to fight right now.
Ra’s laughs, and takes a stride towards Tim, who matches him with another step back. “Oh, Timothy. Ever so concerned. Look what we’ve done today together—with this power, the things we could do.”
“Forget it, Ra’s. I’m out. I did what you asked, and I’m leaving now.” Tim turns curtly on his heel and makes for the door.
He doesn’t even make it a whole two paces before he has two dozen swords leveled at his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut for just a second. He should never have come back here.
He opens his eyes. “Let me go, Ra’s, and I won’t fight you.”
“I have the utmost respect for your talents, detective, but you flatter yourself.” Ra’s voice is unconcerned. Well, I’ll give him something to worry about.
In a lightning fast moment, Tim moves, and the room erupts into chaos. Assassins shout, as Tim rolls to his right towards the two closest to him, grabbing one forearm each. The wind whips back up as Tim’s runes burst into light, and the two men whose arms he hold wail as their flesh wrinkles and softens, turning a mottled gray. Tim doesn’t wait to see what further effects of accelerating time has on them, dropping two more assassins with hands to the shoulder and hip.
He’s almost on his fifth when behind him, from the same unmoving spot, Ra’s barks out short, harsh words in the ancient language of magic. Tim’s heart skips two beats, squeezing tight, as every muscle in his body seizes, and he stumbles. It lasts only a moment, and Tim whips around to face the immortal, ready to fight him, too.
Tim mutters words of his own incantation and grabs for Ra’s own arm, but Ra’s makes no move to stop him. It’s clear why, when Tim makes contact with Ra’s skin and nothing happens. Tim shouts the words to his incantation again, but the pressure, the stinging heat of his magic doesn’t come. What did Ra’s do? Fear douses Tim in a rolling wave, and he starts to realize just how fucked he is.
Ra’s, fucking Ra’s, only smiles coldly, as if Tim has told him a joke he’s heard one too many times. His eyes flick to the side of the room, and Tim follows his gaze. Staying back from the fray of assassins who jumped in to fight when Tim moved is a ring of Ra’s men chanting in low unison. Tim can’t understand the words, but he can feel what’s happened to his magic. It’s been cut off. With sinking finality, Tim realizes that he’s well and truly fallen into Ra’s trap. How stupid to think he could’ve trusted Ra’s! There’s always, always, an ulterior motive with him.
Tim still has his fists, so he takes a barehanded swing at Ra’s, but the man ducks it easily, getting low and using Tim’s own momentum to toss him a good five feet away. The impact knocks the wind clean out of Tim’s lungs, and he gasps for air as he struggles back to his feet. He’s not given another chance to swing again before Ra’s men are on him.
His arms are grabbed, too many hands, and he’s too drained from everything he’s already done here. He bucks and kicks, but there’s just too many of them. Every solid kick to a groin or elbow to a nose is only met with another assassin ready for blood. They drag him off his feet, pulling him closer to Ra’s, back to the middle of the spell circle.
Ra’s reaches out and pats Tim’s cheek twice, and Tim snarls at the touch.
“It’s a pity, detective. I’ve so enjoyed our partnership.”
“What is this?” Tim spits. “If you’re going to kill me, you’ll have to pay retribution to my entire coven.”
At that Ra’s laughs, a full bellied sound.
“Of course, of course, Timothy. Your coven. After all, you’re quite close these days, no? Surely they know you’re here, and sent you with their well wishes.” Ra’s shrugs his cloak off, dropping it to the ground. “Don’t take me for a fool. I know your coven isn’t coming. They don’t even know you’re here. Surely you didn’t think I couldn’t keep my own tabs on you, Timothy? Even your little clone friend has no idea you’re here.”
Tim has nothing to say to that. He’s right, dammit. He should have told someone, anyone. If Ra’s doesn’t kill him, Conner most certainly will.
“Our collaboration has been most illuminating. You have no idea how truly gifted you are. Such magic as you have is not something that occurs every generation. Many have sought abilities like yours to no avail. And to think, you’d fall right into my lap, desperate and clueless to what we could accomplish together.”
“Whatever you’ve convinced yourself, I’ll never help you like this, Ra’s.”
Ra’s continues as if Tim hadn’t spoken. “To combine your power and mine, such greatness has never been attempted before. My gift is strong, indeed, but it has its limits. I’ve lived this long, but my Lazarus pits won’t ever increase in number. There is an end and a limit to what I can do. But with you? With your power, with your connection to the magical world around us, there’s so much more. Just look what we’ve accomplished in a few meager hours.” Ra’s gestures to his resurrected lieutenant, still kneeling to the side.
“Didn’t you hear me? Or are you deaf as well as senile? I won’t help you.” Tim keeps tugging, trying to free himself, but he’s been well restrained.
“I realized that you won’t assist of your own volition. Thankfully, your agreement won’t be necessary.” Ra’s reaches towards Tim’s face, and Tim tries to jerk away, but Ra’s still swipes his fingers across Tim’s chin. They come away red with Tim’s blood. “There is a great deal that can be done with magic, if you know the right rituals, Timothy. The one I shall perform today is quite complicated, and requires two participants that agree to be bound. Most graciously, you’ve already allowed yourself to complete the first part of this process.”
“The hell are you talking about? I’d never do that.” Tim searches inside for anything, any sort of plan he can find to get out of this situation, but it’s beginning to look hopeless.
With his non-bloody fingers, Ra’s unlatches the clasps on his own silk shirt, and lets that fall to the ground, too, and he turns his back to Tim.
Tim blinks.
In addition to the familiar runes Ra’s bears on his arms and shoulders, new elegant lines form a climbing twisting rune up Ra’s spine. The design is sickeningly familiar. It’s identical to the ones Tim let Ra’s give him a year ago.
Tim feels like the ground has fallen out from under him.
“This is a kind of magic even your own Batman knows nothing of. It’s older than you or even I by far.” As Ra’s talks, he brings his bloody fingers to his forearms, tracing new shapes on his tanned flesh. “The connection that blood magic creates is deep and quite inseverable, you’ll find. I will bind the two of us together, and with this ritual, everything you have will become mine.”
“No. No! You can’t do this!” Tim is full-on panicking, shouting.
“It is already almost done, detective. The preparation is complete. All that remains is the conversion. Your gift, your knowledge, even your very body will all be mine.”
Ra’s finishes drawing his runes on his arms, and draws closer to Tim. An assassin hands him a short, crooked blade.
Tim’s windless breaths come one after the other without a beat between, but he stills his jerking when Ra’s blade tickles the hair at his neck. Ra’s doesn’t break the skin, instead turning the blade on himself. A swift movement and Ra’s opens a wound on his own left palm. He hands the blade away, dipping his fingers in his own blood.
Tim shakes as Ra’s traces runes on Tim’s neck, further down toward his collarbone. Ra’s steps back to admire his handiwork, and dips his chin approvingly.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Timothy. You needn’t worry. You’ll still be around to see what the future holds, though not in the way you imagine, I’m sure.”
It’s all Tim can do to just shake his head. How could this have happened? How could he have allowed this to happen?
He has no more time to consider it as Ra’s begins a chant anew. Immediately, Tim’s whole body feels like he’s been lit aflame. His runes seem to burn hottest, and he has no control over the scream that rips from his throat. His head feels like it’s being crushed between two boulders, and the world lurches and rocks around him.
Sensation begins to dim in his limbs, whether from the spell’s magic, or from simply being unable to process the pain anymore. Black squeezes in on all sides of his vision, and the only thing Tim can see now is Ra’s, his own skin runes glowing brighter than Tim’s ever seen before.
A sensation starts in his head, feeling like something drains away. He feels like he’s being emptied, hollowed out, and he’s not sure what will be left when all’s done. The agony lasts for hours, or maybe just seconds, and Tim can feel himself slipping into the dark. He doesn’t even know if he’ll come back. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is where he dies—powerless, alone, betrayed one final time.
Just when it feels like it may never end, it does. Ra’s chants, distant as if underwater, stop, and the light dies down. Tim’s agony fades, and he is completely spent. He has nothing left to give. He doesn’t know what Ra’s has done, but whatever has happened, Tim can tell that he doesn’t feel the same. There is no time to process anything other than Ra’s predatory smile as the blackness closes fully in. Whatever happens now, he’s truly at Ra’s mercy.
. . .
Halfway across the world, Bruce pauses in his steps as he lands on the next roof. Tingles gather at his neck, rolling away into a shiver. He looks ahead to where Batgirl and Black Bat race each other back towards the batmobile. He shrugs it off, and picks up his run to keep pace.
. . .
Dick sits up straight in his chair in the cave, snapped out of his daze. A moment of alarm has him looking over to the training mats, but no, Damian is still training with his sword there just as he had been for the last hour or so. Dick rolls his neck, stretches his arms. Unsure of where this moment of anxiety comes from, he stands and grabs his escrima sticks, going to join Damian on the mats.
. . .
Jason sits bolt-upright in his bed, heart pounding. An intruder? He’s already thumbing the safety off his closest gun, but after a second of listening, he doesn’t hear anything. He gets up and walks the area of his safehouse to be sure, but there’s nothing to suggest that anything is amiss. He focuses on his breathing then, reeling in the waves of cold energy that pulse from him. He sits at his bedside, checking the time. Only three in the morning. It’s quiet.
Still, that feeling of panic that hit him… He’s had his own share of panic attacks in his day, but this didn’t feel like that. Well, now he’s feeling rested enough, so instead he flips open his laptop and sets to work planning out his next raid. Even as he works, the pit in his stomach refuses to settle, and he gnaws his lip as he types.
What’s there to be worried about? His last raid went swimmingly, and these guys seem like even bigger idiots than the last bunch, and worse funded, so he’s not worried about any trouble. For no reason, he finds himself pulling up the frequencies for Gotham on his radio. He’s not worried about his family, but still… something pulls him to listen in.
The chatter is normal, the Bats returning to their roost a couple hours ahead of the sunrise. He listens for a couple minutes, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. He shakes his head. He’s worrying for nothing—not that he’s worried about his stupid coven anyway.
He’d barely call them his coven these days. Things had seemed like they would never get better between them, but after Bruce’s death and resurrection, a new neutrality had sprung up between them, and Jason had even deigned to work with them every now and then on his stops through Gotham. Things are still especially rough with him and Dick, but Damian’s seemed to decide to allow him to visit without immediately going for an eyeball, so that’s improvement. The girls are wary, but Cass seems to have a respect for him, and he her.
Tim? Well, the youngest ex-Robin doesn’t seem to spend all that much time around the bats either these days. Half the time Jason’s not even sure if he’s in Gotham, and when he is, he works more on his own than not. Sometimes even Jason feels like he sees the rest of the coven more than Tim does.
Now that he’s thinking of it, he starts scrolling feeds, looking for a glimpse of Red Robin. He digs, but his cape doesn’t pop up on any of Jason’s sources. He sighs, chair squeaking harshly under him as he leans back. He taps his finger on the mouse a couple times, scrolling mindlessly up and down.
He should just let it go. Who cares where his replacement has found himself these days? As Jason understands it from what little the other bats will talk about it, Tim’s found himself off on quite a rebel streak, so surely he’s just chasing his next seedy lead.
Jason thinks about getting up, hitting the streets for an hour before the sun fully rises, or making his way to the gym. Shaking his head, he leans back in. He doesn’t know why he feels the need to keep looking, but something tells him he ought to figure out just what Tim Drake has found himself up to.
. . .
As it turns out, the boy wonder isn’t just a mystery to him. Even Babs hasn’t seen him in a while, and it looks like the last time he was seen in Gotham was almost a month and a half ago.
“If not in Gotham, then where is he?” Jason cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear as he dumps a pot of old coffee to start a fresh one.
“You’re awfully interested. I don’t need to worry about finding Red somewhere with a bullet in his chest, do I, Hood?”
“You wound me.” Jason clutches his chest in mock pain. “Nah, nothing like that. You know I’ve been doing better.”
“Yeah.” Babs’ voice comes across in a static-y sigh. “You have been. I know he’s been spending a lot of time in Europe lately. He’s probably over there in Prague. That or he’s with the Teen Titans in San Francisco.”
“Got it. Thanks, O.”
“What’s this about, Jason? Sure I shouldn’t call Bruce?”
“It’s good, seriously. Later.” Jason hangs up. Prague, huh? The little bird’s flown pretty far from the nest. He pulls up new cameras, getting online, looking for articles. Sure enough, Red Robin was spotted there two weeks ago. The article’s in Czech, so Jason doesn’t get that much from it, but a blurry photo of red and black is definitely Tim.
He closes his tabs. Tim’s doing just fine kicking it out in the east. He doesn’t know what’s got him in such a tizzy about it but he can relax and forget about it.
Even after Jason suits up and moves out for his raid, the thoughts of Tim stay wiggling in the back of his brain. He goes through his whole fight unable to shake Red Robin from his brain, and as he wraps up and turns in, he finally resolves to reach out to Tim just to get rid of this feeling. He’ll make up some excuse about a crime or some files and call it a day, hopefully putting this worry to rest.