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"Calling all back to the Cave after tonight's patrol. This is non-negotiable." Oracle's distorted voice rings out through Nightwing's comms.
"O, you know I have to get back to 'Haven asap," he argues. He's only in Gotham because Robin had been acting up and Batman had required his help—Batman speak for: please babysit my son so I can breathe for a sec—and he isn't keen on staying longer than necessary. He loves the kid, and honestly doesn't mind the babysitting gig, but damn it if it doesn't bother him to always be expected to step up.
The 'yes, Sir' of his relationship with Batman never sat right with him, but this is Oracle asking, and for her, he would stay however long she wants him to.
"Non-negotiable, Nightwing. It's about Red Robin." Nightwing's hackles are immediately up. Red Robin hasn't been around much, and prefers to operate out of his Nest rather than the Cave. Sure, he'll help if you come to him, but he'll never come to you first. Nightwing misses him. Dick misses him, and he knows the others do, too.
"What about him?"
"I have something you should see. He will not be present."
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"Bruce, what's Tim's girlfriend's name?" Barbara starts once they're all—Bruce, Dick, Damian, and Cass—seated in front of a screen monitor.
"Is this relevant?" Babs levels the man with an unimpressed look.
"You should definitely know what your quasi-son is up to. Answer the question."
Had this been ten years ago, Dick knows Bruce would've huffed at the ridiculousness. "Tamara Fox."
"Wrong, Tim doesn't have a girlfriend, and he and Tam split months ago." She turns to Dick. "Could you tell me where Tim lives?" Dick lightens a bit at the question, he knows this.
"The Nest!" He replies proudly.
"Just the Nest?" Babs challenges.
"…No?"
"No, Tim alternates between the Nest and a houseboat in the Marina." She lets the statement rest between them for a minute before powering on. "I'm telling you all this to underscore that we don't know him anymore. I only know this because I've managed to track some of his movements and try to do regular check ins by entering his systems."
She sighs and turns towards the monitor behind her. "I hacked into his cowl-cam tonight. I found this."
It's funny, Dick thinks, how they still call it a cowl-cam even though Tim is back to wearing a domino—an extravagant one, but still.
Gotham's skyline as seen from Tim's perspective greets them when Babs presses play on the video, the sight is both familiar and comforting in the weird atmosphere they find themselves in.
"Fuck," is breathed out from the man behind the mask as the skyline tilts slightly, most likely due to Tim flopping against what Dick assumes to be an HVAC system. The screen is briefly engulfed by a blurry grey when Red Robin's gloved hands come to cover his eyes, before sliding up towards his hair. His hands are shaky when he lowers them, and Dick feels his heart clench at not knowing the reasons behind it.
"Ya ruhi," comes from somewhere beyond Tim's view. Damian stiffens where he's sat next to Dick, his head swiftly turning to his father, who, in turn, draws a sharp inhale through his nose. Dick must look confused, because Cass turns to him and translates; 'my soul'. Dick's stomach nearly drops out of his ass as he puts the clues together.
The video shakes slightly when Tim startles at his visitor's announcement. "Ra's," his voice is softer than Dick would've assumed it to be given the situation, but there is also an underlying melancholy in it that worries the man. "You came."
The older man steps into view, with a gentleness in his eyes Dick didn't know Ra's was even capable of. A bejewelled hand reaches out towards the camera, landing next to it.
Dick takes a shuddering breath. He is witnessing Ra's al Ghul, the infamous, immortal terrorist, cup his baby brother's face with the delicacy of one cradling a wounded bird.
"When is this from," Bruce grunts from his seat. Babs pauses the video, Ra's concerned face staring straight at them. Dick is glad for the brief intervention.
Barbara, evidently, is not. She sighs. "I'm not saying anything until you've seen the whole thing, Bruce. It's not that long, and I think it's important for you to have all the information before jumping to conclusions."
"He called him his soul, Gordon, I don't think Father is merely jumping to conclusions," Damian pipes up. His arms are crossed against his chest, and the furrow he has directly inherited from Bruce between his brows has settled in place. Babs doesn't respond, but turns back around to continue playing the video.
"Of course, Detective, I will always come, should you call." Ra's voice rings out. Tim almost melts onto the floor of the rooftop, but the older man was there to catch him. The video once again turns into a blur of grey, but now with the addition of black and a dark green. Tim must be cradled against Ra's chest, Dick deduces. Why? How have they missed this? He whispers the last question to the room at large without receiving an answer.
"Why?" Tim questions on screen.
"Timothy, we have been doing this dance for years. You call, I come, and yet, you still can not accept this," Ra's is in frame again, tilting Tim's head up to look at him. The man's ancient brown eyes are boring into the camera, and for a short second, Dick can understand the appeal. "I curse your family for making you doubt your worthiness of love and affection."
The words hit Dick like a brick, but he doesn't have time to wallow in guilt, because the conversation on screen is more important than his feelings right now.
"Ra's—"
"You know I am not fond of them for this reason, Beloved."
"I can't leave them," Tim whispers, lowering his head to lean on Ra's chest.
"And I am not asking you to. However, I will keep reminding you, should you ever wish to do so, I would be glad to host you."
Tim doesn't reply to the offer, other than the small sigh leaving him, and Dick uses the lull in conversation to look around him. Damian's jaw is clenched tight enough to leave him sore. Bruce, usually stoic, has also crossed his arms across his chest. His cowl is drawn back, and Dick catches him slightly nibbling on his lower lip. It's unnerving, seeing Bruce like this. Cass—being the most disciplined of them—sits still by Dick's side, as if the weight of the situation doesn't effect her. Dick knows it does, in some way it must.
"Why did you call me, Timothy?" Tim straightens at the inquiry.
"Would you—" he takes a breath and starts over. "If I—" A hand flies up to—assumedly—tug at his hair, and Tim grunts at his inability to get the words out.
"How long would it take for you to know if I died?" He rushes out.
"Why do you ask?"
"How long?"
"It all depends, of course, but I would hope no more than an hour."
"And—" Tim hesitates. "What would you do?"
"Should you die?"
"Yes."
"I would bathe you in green, and bask in the honour of being the only one witnessing your rebirth," Dick can't suppress the shudder that coursed through his body at the statement. He can't decide if Ra's words are romantic or creepy. But then again, he muses, two things can be true at once.
"And—" Tim's gaze settles on the hands that are fiddling with the expensive fabric draped over Ra's shoulders. "And if I told you I didn't want you to?"
On screen, Ra's hands capture Tim's and hold on. Tim's eyes doesn't waver from the man's chest. "I would tell you that it concerns me how you seem so willing to die."
"I'm— I don't want to die, I just think—" Tim stutters, to his own obvious dismay. "Would it be so bad? I've done good, I know I have. I brought Bruce back, I accepted Jason's presence despite everything, I kept Damian's multiple attempts on my life secret, I led my team and saved countless of people. What's left, Ra's? I've done it all, I'm not needed anymore. Batman has his Robin, Dick has his real brothers, Cass doesn't need me, never did really, Steph didn't even remember my birthday this year. Hell, none of them did.
"So my question is, would it really be so bad?" The video shifts to Ra's face, his hands on either side of the outskirts of the cowl's camera.
"It would be the end of me, ya amar" Cass doesn't translate out of her own volition this time, but when Dick nudges her she leans in to whisper; 'my moon'.
"I'm sure you've survived worse," Tim mutters, petulance clear in his voice. Dick swipes his hand over his face when he feels tears making their way towards his throat. He must have been crying for some time, because there's a significant pool of wetness surrounding his nostrils.
One of Ra's hands leave their place on Tim's cheek to softly stroke his hair instead. "It is not a matter of surviving, sweet detective, but rather a matter of living. I have lived without you for centuries, and now that I know what it's like to not live without you, I do not wish to be reminded of what it is to be alive in your absence."
"You will grow bored of me," Tim's words are barely audible when he whispers them.
"I do believe it to be the other way around, Beloved."
"You'll change your mind soon enough." The hand that is still resting on Tim's face places its thumb over Tim's lips.
"Enough of this now," For the first time since his arrival, there is a disgruntled hint to Ra's words. As quickly as the change of tone came, it morphs into the same tenderness as before. "Come, let me take you home."
"Ra's…" Tim wants to argue, Dick can tell, but not because he doesn't want it, but because he knows he shouldn't want it.
The camera angle suddenly shifts to show Ra's chin. "Let me care for you, qalbi," the soft sound of a kiss filters through the built-in microphone.
Barbara turns the recording off.
"Barbara, switch to live video," Bruce demands.
"Bruce—"
"Now."
She fiddles with the controls under the monitor and Tim's view is displayed once more. He's walking into a building, and though they can't see him, the clicking of Ra's heels reveals his presence.
"This isn't his home," Damian says.
"No," Bruce agrees. "It isn't."
Dick searches Barbara's eyes. "Babs?"
"Location says New York City, Upper East Side, to be exact," She bites her lip. "I guess we've missed a third home of his."
"Timothy," Ra's voice echos through the cave. "Where is your doorman?"
"He's free from ten o'clock to five, usually."
"Hm." Ra's body comes into frame in Tim's peripheral. "This is not what I imagined when I gifted you this residence." Dick doesn't miss the sharp inhale coming from Bruce.
The elevator doors shut, and Tim turns around and puts a hand on the older man's chest. "I'm glad for it, how else would I get in here when suited up?"
Ra's smiles in the same soft way they've seen tonight. "Do you not worry about the cameras?"
In the mirrors of the elevator, Tim's mischievous grin isn't as sharp as it should be. "Never."
"Pardon me," Ra's smile widens, eyes filled with adoration for the man in front of him. "I forget there is no security feed you can't get into."
The elevator stops and opens into what is obviously the building's penthouse. It's nice, Dick thinks, open and airy in a way that screams wealth. There are massive windows gazing out over the New York skyline. It looks surprisingly lived in, and how sad isn't that, that Tim has a well-loved home in New York City that Dick had no idea existed?
On screen, Ra's is standing in front of Tim, cradling his cheek in one hand. "Come, Detective, let me wash you."
To his left, Damian lets out a noise of disgust.
Tim gets led to what Dick assumes is the main bathroom. "Let's get this off you," Ra's croons.
He starts to carefully lift at the edges of the mask before Tim puts a gentle hand on his, stopping his endeavour. "There's solvent under the sink, I'll need it to peel the mask off."
Ra's gets a thumb under the mask easily. "I think your tears have done quite enough to suffice." And, sure enough, the domino peels off easily. It gets placed carefully on the counter, and only being able to see the ceiling now, the group misses the love in Ra's eyes when he says,
"There you are."
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