Work Text:
Fear Toxin was loud. It was screams. It was hallucinations. It was violence. It was people running into the streets while Gotham's vigilantes attempted to chase them down to prevent them from hurting themselves. It was blood, guts, and gore. It was people clawing at their skin to get whatever they saw off. Everyone knew that when noxious clouds of multi-colored gases started filling the air, shit was about to hit the proverbial fan. Everyone knew that you didn’t mess with Fear Toxin.
Fear Toxin was loud; everyone knew that.
Until the day it wasn’t.
“Red Robin has been compromised. We are in need of extraction,” Robin called over the comms. The noise in his ear went silent. At least, Scarecrow had already been apprehended by Nightwing and Spoiler.
“Are you safe, Robin? Do you need help restraining Red?” Nightwing responded.
“He is…contained,” then Robin reached up and silenced his comm. In truth, he didn’t know what to make of his brother coworker.
He’d gone completely still and silent. Robin wasn’t entirely certain he was breathing, except for the slight twitch and tremor that Red Robin gave off occasionally. Robin didn’t know what he could do to help him. He didn’t know if his touch would be well received or appreciated.
Robin heard the distant roar of the Batmobile, and for once was glad that its distinct engine could be heard from a distance. It pulled up at the mouth of the alley, and then Robin heard three grapples being fired. Batman, Nightwing, and Hood landed on the roof a few feet away from where he was crouched next to Red Robin.
“Robin. Report,” Batman grunted.
“Red Robin and I were working on evacuating the civilians in the area. One of them accidentally knocked open a canister of Scarecrow's latest Fear Toxin. Red Robin called his Redbird to our location because he said that it contained a surplus supply of rebreathers. We began administering the antidote we had on hand to those we could, and handing out the few rebreathers to those who didn't need the antidote.
I…I slipped. I was unaware of a victim becoming more violent. They had a knife and attacked me. Red Robin managed to subdue them, but my own rebreather was cracked in the ensuing scuffle. Red Robin gave me his. I found him like this.”
Robin would never forget the look on his brother's the older vigilante's face as he handed over his mask. A bittersweet, almost nostalgic, and semi-proud smile played on his lips as he handed it over. Then, the older boy whispered for Robin not to worry. That everything would be alright.
Except nothing was ok.
As soon as he'd handed over his mask, he'd taken a face full of gas. He hadn't even had a chance to hold his breath. And then, instead of screaming or anything else typically associated with Fear Toxin, he went stock still and absolutely silent. It was like nothing that Robin had ever seen before. Batman approached his terrifyingly still third child with broad motions, making sure to broadcast each and every step as he moved forward. Once he got within arms’ reach, he crouched down so that he wouldn’t appear to be looming over him. But Red Robin didn’t even acknowledge his approach.
Batman signaled for Nightwing to approach so that they could rig up some kind of sling. Batman pulled off his cape to be used as the base. Batman gently pulled the third Robin down and laid him down on the cape. Red Robin momentarily twitched but then went still again.
Batman swaddled his son in the cape, and then he secured it with a series of ratchet straps and bungee cords. Hood stomped over to them and laid his jacket over the top to act as a blanket. Then, Nightwing and Batman attached their secondary grapple to the makeshift sling while securing the other end to their utility belts. Then, they used their primary grapple to repel down to the waiting Batmobile.
Nightwing took hold of his little brother once they were on the ground. He didn’t bother to undo the swaddle; he just climbed into the street-tank, cradling his little brother to his chest. Robin crawled in next to them, and Batman took the wheel, while Hood grabbed shotgun. The drive back to the Cave was eerily silent.
When they pulled up to the Cave’s docking platform, Nightwing reluctantly had to let go. He couldn’t comfortably get out of the backseat while also carrying his younger brother. His younger brother who was as still as he'd been when he'd first been rescued. It was utterly unnerving. He handed his brother over to the waiting Batman and then followed his father-mentor figure over to where Alfred was waiting in the Cave’s medbay.
Batman gently laid Red Robin down on the white bed and paused. He never realized just how small his third son was. But as Alfred got to work peeling off the layers of Tim's uniform, it occurred to Bruce just how small Tim was. Sure, the boy had been injured before. And sure, he'd certainly been unconscious before. And he'd been exposed to Fear Toxin before…right? Right?
It was just Tim was always in motion. Always moving in some way or another. Even when he was “still”, he was moving. Previously, if he were sick or unconscious, he would be restless. Constantly twitching or grunting in his sleep. When he was sitting at the Batcomputer, his hands were a flurry of motion across the keyboard. He was never truly STILL. To see him like that was absolutely heartbreaking.
Bruce pulled off his gloves and pushed back his cowl. In that moment, he looked several years older. He always hated it when any of his children got hurt in the field. He watched as Alfred hooked him to various monitors and drew blood. Alfred's lips were drawn into a thin line as he filled the vials.
“Master Bruce. If you will,” the butler said as he handed one of the vials to Bruce so that he could begin working on an antidote. If Bruce's hands were shaking as he took it, no they weren't. Shut your damn mouth.
The wait for the centrifuge to finish spinning Tim's blood seemed nearly interminable. In truth, it was only about fifteen minutes for it to spin and separate the blood components. To formulate the actual antidote, it took another three hours because the mass spectrometer had trouble reading exactly which chemicals Crane had used in his newest formula. It had several rarer chemicals that Bruce hadn't accounted for.
All of the waiting vigilantes thought the wait was wrong. Jason thought the wait was going to send him his second grave. Dick thought about doing a trapeze routine just to burn off some nervous energy. Damian was doing some katas, even if his form was off kilter. The girls were in Hong Kong but had promised to return to Gotham as soon as possible. And Duke was sleeping fitfully at the conference table.
Finally…Finally…the spectrometer beeped that the results of Tim's blood analysis were ready. Bruce practically sprinted over to the machine and all but pulled the door off its hinges as he opened it. The others crowded around him, pressing against him as he worked to prepare the antidote. Normally, he would have like to have a bit more space and would have snapped at someone, but he could understand the anxiousness in his kids. This time.
Bruce worked on autopilot as he pulled various things from the cabinet to prepare the appropriate medication. A little bit of saline. A little bit of glucose. A little bit of epinephrine. A dash of nitroglycerin. A pinch of mercury. Some magnesium. And a bunch of other chemicals that never should have been in the same compound much less the same area.
The mixture turned electric blue. Bruce stalled. He'd never seen such a reaction.
“Well, that's NOT normal,” Jason snarked.
“Uh…is that supposed to happen?” Dick asked at the same time.
“Tt,” Damian tutted.
Bruce just stared blankly at the compound because in the eloquent words of his second son. What. The. Fuck.
“NO. It's not supposed to do that,” he replied.
He double and triple checked his work, but no, he'd run the tests correctly. No mistakes had been made. He even had Alfred AND Dick double check as another set of eyes. And they came up with the same results.
“Huh,” Jason said intelligibly. Which fair. Because in all of their years dealing with Scarecrow's bullshit, none of them had ever seen anything like that.
Bruce loaded the concoction into an auto-injector syringe and then made his way over to the still unconscious Tim. He used an alcohol wipe to clean the injection site. Bruce carefully depressed the syringe against Tim's elbow, but the boy didn't so much as twitch. Not even a groan escaped from his mouth.
Bruce had Dick set a timer, and then they waited. The typical time for a response or a reaction to the antidote was anywhere between fifteen minutes and two hours. They weren’t worried when Tim showed no response at the fifteen minute mark. Tim usually had adverse reactions to Fear Toxin anyways. At the one hour mark, they began getting a little antsy. At the two hour mark, while they weren’t full-on panicking (they were all too well trained for that), they were all restless in little ways.
Bruce was by the Batcomputer trying to update something, even though he'd just updated all of its security measures with Tim less than a day ago. Jason's eyes were glowing neon green, and he was pacing and growling. Damian had resumed doing his katas. Dick was doing a gymnastic routine on the uneven bars. Duke began practicing his umbrakinesis. Stephen and Cass raced into the Cave on Cass's motorcycle. And Alfred was polishing the already sparkling silverware.
“I'll contact Dark,” Bruce rumbled, startling everyone. It was a testament to their worry that no one contradicted him, even if it meant contacting Constantine.
Constantine, Zatanna, and surprisingly, J'onn appeared in the Cave at nearly the same time. Constantine and Zatanna walked through a golden portal while J'onn appeared through the zeta tube. Bruce gave each of the arriving heroes the rundown of what had happened. Constantine and Zatanna nodded grimly, but J'onn did not approach the bed.
Constantine waved his hands over Tim and golden light flowed out of the mage's cigarette stained nails. He muttered several spells, but Tim remained stubbornly still. Zatanna stepped up.
“Ekaw siht gnipeels dlihc. Lepsid sih raef,” she murmured softly. And again, Tim did not move.
J'onn stepped forward and placed his hand on Tim’s forehead. He yelped as if he’d been burned.
“What is it?” Bruce asked anxiously.
J'onn shook his head to clear it. “He is afraid. His mind is dark and turbulent. But he is there, hidden behind the darkness.”
“Well, then, we just need to bring him out,” Jason said with sniff.
“It is not that easy, young one.” All of the gathered Bats stiffened. “His mind is fiercely protected. I have never encountered anything like it.”
“Then how do we wake him?” Dick asked, an edge of desperation leaking into his voice.
“There is a way although I am uncertain if you…”
“We'll do it. Whatever it is,” Steph exclaimed. She didn't know what she had walked into, but she didn't like it. She noticed that no one disagreed with her.
“Rescue little brother,” Cass said in agreement.
J'onn sighed and was tempted to pinch the bridge of his nose like he'd seen Bruce do, but he refrained from doing so. “Bruce, gather those you trust to watch over your city. Master Alfred, while he does that, I will help you prepare for what we need.”
They didn't quite cheer, given how grim the situation was, but they burst into action with renewed vigor. Bruce and Dick called every ally that they could. Dick called the Teen Titans of which Garth, Beast Boy, and Kory, Starfire, both said that they would be available for coverage if needed. Jason had called Roy, and he had answered as well. Ivy, Harley, and Selina said they'd be on standby. Clark stated that Jon was itching to get out and get some experience. Kon simply stated that he was going to be there for Tim.
While the Gotham vigilantes were working on gathering coverage for their city, Alfred and J'onn worked on arranging several around Tim's medical cot. They needed at least eight beds since all of the Gotham vigilantes refused to be left behind, in addition to Kon.
Bruce stepped up beside J'onn. “What's the plan?” Seven pairs of eyes snapped to attention in their direction. After all, they now had a vested interest in what was happening now as well.
“As I have explained, the procedure is not so simple. Young Timothy's mind is well protected. What I am planning to do is to connect all of you mentally. You will be mentally teleported into where he has entrapped himself. There, it will be up to you to find him and convince him it is safe to return. Meanwhile, Alfred, myself, and the allies you've gathered will protect your physical bodies from harm.”
“Hn,” Bruce grunted. Let it be said that he hated magic. And while this wasn't magic per se, it was awfully close.
“What our fearless leader means is what are the risks and dangers we should be aware of?” Dick asked, shooting a glare at Bruce.
J'onn hummed thoughtfully before responding. “I cannot tell you. When I touched Timothy, I only caught a glimpse of his surroundings before I was kicked out.”
J'onn's words did not bring them any comfort, but they were determined to save their Bird. He motioned for them to take their spots on their preferred beds. Bruce and Kon took the beds closest to Tim and intertwined their hands with Tim's. Jason and Dick took the beds on either side of Bruce and Kon. Leaving the rest of the family to sort themselves out however they wanted.
J'onn made himself comfortable on a reclining chair that Bruce had had commissioned just for this purpose. Once the others had relaxed, or as relaxed as a group of wound up vigilantes could be, J'onn reached out with his mind and connected them. The last person he connected was Tim. He braced for the backlash, but either Tim sensed the presence of his Family, or Tim’s mental shields were breaking down. J'onn didn't want to think about the third option.
When the Gotham vigilantes opened their eyes, they were standing in front of a dreary Manor. It was a shambling thing, overgrown with ivy, and crumbling in some part. The garden was dead and dying. Alfred would have cried to such what should have been what was once a magnificent garden in such a state.
And then the image flickered. Like a hologram. Like it was an image from a Star Trek Holodeck. And instead of a greenish-gray crumbling structure that had been abandoned for years, this was a white brick Manor that looked as if it had just been built. It fucking sparkled. The gardens were straight out of a Better Homes & Gardens magazine photo shoot. It could have won awards. The only other garden that looked better was Alfred's. Even the water in the fountain was bubbling and crystal clear.
Bruce, Dick, and Jason all did a sharp inhale.
“For fuck's sake. Why the hell are we in front of Drake Manor?” Jason asked sharply.
“I don't know, Jaylad. I don't know,” Bruce responded, looking at the Manor in front of them with a frown.
They made a plan to divide and conquer. Steph and Cass would search the top floor. Dick and Damian would search the third floor. Jason and Kon took the second floor; leaving Bruce and Duke for the first floor. Bruce hated that they had to separate, but Drake Manor was nearly as large as Wayne Manor. Wayne Manor was slightly bigger, but Drake Manor was still large enough to be considered a mansion.
Jason and Kon swept through the second floor like some kind of tactical operation. One would open a door, and the other would peek in before actually entering the room. They took their time, knowing that Tim was VERY adept at hiding in the shadows. Of all the Bats, Tim was probably the best at blending into the dark corners that Gotham had to offer. He'd always been good at that. His Bat-training had only served to enhance his natural ability to fade into the background.
They were approaching a linen closet towards the end of the hallway when Kon heard it. The barest scuff of noise. It was coming from inside the closet. Kon locked eyes with Jason and gave him a signal to slowly open the door. Jason did as Kon signaled, with one hand on his pistol. He wasn't too sure what good it would do in this fucked up world that J'onn had sent them too, but it brought some modicum of comfort to Jason.
Jason pried the door open, and at first, he didn't see anything. But then upon second look, on the third shelf from the bottom, he caught a glance of a tiny foot poking out from the sheets. He carefully ran his fingers down the socked foot, only to hear a soft whimper instead of a giggle.
Jason crouched down so he didn't appear to be looming over the shelf. “Hey buddy. We're not gonna hurt ya,” he called softly.
There was some soft shuffling, and then Jason was looking into big, gray-blue eyes. And those…even if the face was much younger than he’d ever seen, Jason would recognize those eyes anywhere. After all, he'd once looked down into those same eyes from a different angle in a much different mindset. And well, fuck.
“GO AWAY!” The boy cried.
Jason's heart lurched. Did Tim really not know him. Then, without warning, Tim threw himself off the shelf and into Jason's arms. It was only Jason's training and reflexes that meant he managed to catch the boy before he brained himself on the floor. And then Jason's heart clenched again. Because fuck this child was tiny. Like smaller than any kid his age had any right to be. Jason didn't even HE was that small, and he didn’t exactly have the best home life.
But he did catch the boy. Then, Jason wrapped his tree trunk arms around the much smaller boy and lowered himself to the ground. Kon sat down next to him. Jason held the child as he cried, and Jason merely held him and rocked without giving him meaningless platitudes.
“Hey, buddy. Can you tell me your name?” Jason asked after the boy finally calmed down, even though Jason knew the answer.
“I'm Tim. Tim-ot-y Dwake,” he replied.
“And how old are you?” Jason asked, dreading the response.
Tim thought about it for a moment before holding up 5 pudgy fingers.
“Why were you hiding in the closet?” Jason asked, ignoring the elephant about how Tim was so fucking tiny.
“Mommy and Daddy never find me when I hide in here. But that's because they don't want me. No one wants me. I'm just the replacement,” the last part was growled, as if the boy had heard someone else say them.
Jason felt something crack in his chest, and he grabbed his chest as if he'd been struck. Because how many times had he called Tim that exact phrase. Sure, at first, Jason had called him that as a sort of vindictive pleasure, then it became routine, and eventually, it morphed into a nickname that was almost fond.
“Tim. Buddy. Do you know me?” Jason asked, no longer able to ignore…well, anything, especially the giant, glaring elephant in the room.
Tim looked up at him with those bright gray-blue eyes that were red-rimmed from crying and shook his head. Jason looked up at Kon to see if the Kryptonian had any advice, but the clone was just as lost as the Gothamite.
“My name's Jason,” he finally settled on.
Tim merely twisted in Jason's lap so that his back was to Jason's chest. Jason once again wrapped his arms around the tiny body in his lap and pressed his chin against the boy's head.
“Hey, Timbit, what did you mean when you said that your mommy and daddy couldn't find you in the closet?”
“When Mommy and Daddy get mad, they trow tings, like dishes, or sometimes, hit me. But if I hide in the cwoset before they can find me, then I stay qwiet, and they can't find me.”
Jason had to take several deep breaths to keep the Pit from taking over. Because…what the absolute fuck. That had never been in the dossiers Talia had given him. Talia had painted Tim's life as idyllic and picturesque. As something straight out of a fairytale. And then, Jason realized that THAT probably the point.
She'd wanted him mad so that he could take out Damian's competition. She used Jason as a weapon and pointed him at Gotham with impunity. Damn the woman. Now, he realized how much hindsight was 20/20 and just how much he'd been manipulated.
“I'm sorry you had to go through that, buddy. Parents aren't supposed to hurt their kids. For that matter, neither are big brothers. Or little brothers.”
Tim twisted in his lap to turn his gray-blue eyes up at him. “But I'm an only child.”
“You know what I think,” Jason stated as he booped Tim on his nose. The action caused a small giggle to escape from Tim's mouth.
“What?” The boy asked breathlessly.
“I think that deep down you know that's not true. I think that somewhere down in that big brain of yours, you know that all this,” Jason swept his arms wide to indicate their surroundings, “isn't right.”
Tim sniffled and turned to hide his face in. Jason's chest again. “But outside is scary. And dangerous. And I'm all alone.”
“Oh, Timberland. No! Sure, we're all a bunch of constipated assholes,” this illicited another sweet giggle from Tim, “But that doesn't mean we don't want you there. Everyone is here. We all came looking for you. I was just the first to find you.”
“Everyone?” Tim's voice was small and broken.
“Everyone,” Jason stated firmly, leaving no room for any doubt. “You ready to go home?”
Tim thought about it for a few moments before slowly nodding.
‘I've found Tim. J'onn bring us out,” Jason called down the mental link. He winced as he heard his family cheer.
When he blinked, he had to bite back another wince because the lights above his head were exceedingly bright. He blinked away the white spots in his eyes as the Cave slowly came into focus. He heard the others start to groan as they began to regain consciousness as well. Once he pushed himself upright, he realized that Tim was still struggling to come back.
Bruce was the first one to push himself off the bed. He wobbled over to Tim's bed and ran his hands through Tim's hair and whispered for Tim to come back to them. Tim groaned a few times, and then his gray-blue eyes fluttered before he blinked them open.
Tim's eyes locked on Jason. “You came for me,” he said in awe.
“‘Course we did. Not just me, though, Timbalina. All of us. We all came for you.”
The teenager looked around the room at the faces with who were looking at him with concern etched on their faces. That was what broke him. He burst into tears.
“You…you…really…came,” he said between heaving sobs.
Bruce gently gathered his third son in his arms. “Of course we came.” He looked up at his entire family, and they nodded. “Tim, sweetheart, I want you to know it was never my intention to make you feel like you weren’t wanted. I’ve always thought of you as my son, even in my darkest moments. That you didn’t know that…that’s on me.”
“No, Bruce. It’s on all of us. We’ve all made mistakes,” Dick said, going in for one of his octopus hugs. It was awkward since Tim was leaning against Bruce, but the younger boy didn’t fight the eldest bat as he pulled him away from their father-figure. Tim slumped bonelessly against Dick’s broader chest.
“I do believe that Master Tim should be resting. He’s had quite the upset,” Alfred said primly, although his eyes were slightly glassy as if he were fighting back tears of his own. There was a chorus of “yes, Alfred”, and then everyone filed out of the medbay. Everyone, except Jason.
Jason sat down heavily in the chair beside Tim’s bed. Both Bruce and Alfred gave him a pointed look, but he just brushed them off with a wave. “I ain’t gonna break him,” he huffed with an exasperated sigh.
“Of course not, my boy,” Alfred replied, squeezing Jason’s shoulder. Bruce did the same on his way out of the medbay. Jason had to fight from tensing up.
“Hey, Jay,” Tim whispered as he twisted the blanket in his thin hands. Jason wondered if his hands had always been that thin, or if they’d gotten that way after his year tracking down Bruce, then realized that it didn’t matter.
“Do you remember meeting me in that big head of yours?” Jason asked without preamble.
Tim looked down at the blanket he was twisting into a knot and nodded.
“Fuck,” Jason muttered, hunching his shoulders. Then, he straightened up seeing as Tim was trying to make himself smaller. “Look, Timmy, when I first came back to Gotham, I was…not right in the head. And Talia did her damnedest to make sure I stayed that way. Essentially, I was her smoking gun and the bullet she pointed at Gotham all rolled into one. Why that woman saw you as a threat, even before whatever happened and you blew up the League, I will never know. The Gods only know she never saw Dickie as a threat to Damian’s legacy. And I’m pretty sure she never saw me that way either.” Jason heaved a sigh that was full of emotion.
“I forgive you.” Jason looked at the other boy in surprise. “I actually forgave you a long time ago. When I was healing, I had a LOT of time on my hands. So did some research.” The implication was clear into WHAT, exactly, Tim had devoted months of his time researching. “When I looked back at your actions and my research, I realized that you had to be under the influence of the Lazarus Pits. At least partially.”
Jason sucked in a breath…because that…that was NOT what he was expecting when he sat down to have this talk with Tim.
“You told me that your parents used to beat you,” he said instead of the hundreds of other things running through his head.
Tim looked away, almost as if he were ashamed. But he didn’t deny it. “When they were home, which they weren’t often, I did my best to stay out of sight. Jack, well, he drank a little much. And occasionally, he got a little rough when he drank. And Janet, well, she did nothing to stop it. But sometimes, she had a little too much to drink as well.”
“You didn’t deserve that, Timbo. No more than I deserved Willis wailing on me when he had a little too much. Or Catherine’s neglect because the need for her drugs outweighed the need to take care of her kid.” A sudden thought occurred to Jason which caused him to bark out a laugh. The laugh startled Tim, and he flinched so hard he nearly fell off the bed. Jason shot out a hand to catch him.
“It just occurred to me. Bruce really does collect those of us with parent trauma. Dick’s parents died in front of him. Willis was a Two-Face goon; Catherine died of drug overdose; and Sheila sold me to the Joker. Your mom was poisoned, and your dad was killed by Captain Boomerang. Steph’s dad is a rogue. Cass’s parents were both assassins. Duke parents were killed by Joker Venom. And one of Damian’s parents is also an assassin, while the other dresses as giant furry to fight crime. Barbie’s mom cheated on Jim, and then left him, and Barbie was shot by the Joker. We’re all just one fucked up bunch.
That’s not even including the Foxes, Kate, Harper, or Cullen. Not to mention the rogues-turned-antiheroes. It’s almost like the Old Man is playing hero bingo or something.”
Tim snorted. Jason grinned at him. Then, they both started laughing. Those deep belly laughs that brought tears to the eyes. They laughed like for minutes. And each time they tried to stop, they would look at each other’s face and get set off again. They ended up laughing for what amounted to a total of thirty minutes, give or take.
Tim felt something loosen in his chest, and at the same time, something else slot into place. They wanted him. They really wanted him. He vaguely recalled seeing the rest of his family in his dreamworld before Jason had pulled him out, and that had included Damian. When he had awoken from his fear-induced sleep, he’d seen the way Damian’s brow pinched, and his fists clenched. All tells that he was worried. The brat might never say anything directly, but it showed in the small ways.
“I’m glad to be home,” Tim said in the comforting silence. The only noise was the chittering bats overhead.
“Welcome home, Timantha. Try not to scare the absolute shit out of us like that again,” Jason snarked.
“I make no promises.”
“You’re such a little shit.” But there was no heat behind Jason’s words.
He pulled out a well-worn copy of “A Little Princess” and started reading it out loud. Tim settled back against the bed. As Jason droned on about the adventures of Sara, Becky, Ermengarde, Lottie, Miss Minchin, and the other girls at Miss Minchin’s school, Tim felt his eyes close and his head droop. His last memories were Jason pulling a weighted blanket up to his chin and ruffling his hair. Then, his world slowly faded to black as Jason talked about a world in England and orphan girls that were treated like princesses until they weren’t.