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The laptop screen flickered. Tim wondered if it was dying in sympathy with him. Ra’s face appeared on the monitor. “Detective,” Ra’s said.
Tim was actually glad to see him, see anyone. It was nice not to be dying alone. And Ra’s at least never belittled him. “Ra’s,” Tim croaked.
“You are dying,” Ra’s said. “Ordered into a plague zone with no care or consideration for you.”
Tim didn’t have the energy to shrug, but he raised his eyebrows. Bruce always treated Tim like one of those punch dolls, hit it, and hit it, and hit it, and it always pops back up, no need to hold back, no need to treat him like family. What else was new?
“I can save you.”
“Price?” Tim asked. He really didn’t think he was salvageable. The plague had a 35% survival rate even among healthy people who had functional spleens. Bruce hadn’t cared about that when he sent Tim in, rather than risk one of his actual sons. Jason probably would have got the sniffles.
“You’d be my valued consort. I would accept your input into the League’s actions. I realize our methods are not having the desired result.”
“Murder not saving the planet?” Tim wasn’t agreeing to anything, but it was nice to be valued. Ra’s might even miss Tim.
Ra’s scowled. “No. Apparently not.”
Tim nodded slightly, the best he could do. “Sorry about that.” And he really was. Ra’s methods tended to cause a lot of collateral suffering, but his goal of a healthy planet was one Tim could have got behind. Living in Gotham made blue skies and drinkable tap water seem a fantasy.
“Join me, and live.”
“I’d rather die than go into the Lazarus pit,” Tim said. His mind was the best part of him, his logic, his ability to stay rational despite pressure. He didn’t want to be another Jason. He coughed, and wiped at the red. Not long now.
“Not the pit. I can transfer you, what makes your mind unique, into a fresh body.” Ra’s smiled. “I cloned you from your spleen.”
“Huh.” Tim vaguely recalled something he’d overheard Damian telling Jason. “You were going to take over Damian’s body?”
Ra’s huffed in amusement. “A clone, not the child. Damian was merely a test model for durability. Fighting another consciousness leads to psychopathy.”
“Huh.” Tim thought about it.
“Damian’s clone is fully grown.” The monitor shifted to show a body secured in a transparent tube filled with a pale blue liquid. Tim had to admit it was quite a handsome body, Bruce’s build, with just enough of Talia’s influence in the features to make him a separate person. That body, with Ra’s clever mind… it wasn’t entirely a repulsive prospect.
“The body is perfect, mindless, but complete and only awaiting occupancy. As is yours.” The view shifted, and there… there was Tim. Body unscarred, unmarked, no signs of the years fighting Bruce’s battles, being attacked by Bruce’s sons…
Tim thought about it for a second. He wasn’t doing anyone any good by dying. “Bruce…when he finds out…”
Ra’s face returned. “He’ll find your body. That was all he ever wanted from you.”
“Sounds good, but how…”
“I have learned a few things over the years.” The air shimmered into a gold-edged circle. An assassin, wearing clear hazmat over his robes, stepped out into Tim’s Nest, carrying a metal helmet attached to a box by cords. “Close your eyes, and relax,” Ra’s said. “Welcome to your new life, Beloved.”
Tim closed his eyes, and felt the helmet slipping onto his head. He hoped none of the Bats would think to change his access to their systems. He’d love to be a bat on the wall when they eventually noticed he’d died. Odds were pretty good. Bruce hadn’t removed Jason’s access to Titans Tower after all.
He smiled even as he felt himself slipping into a cool, clean, silvery mindspace. Even if Ra’s had lied and he was just gaining a new master, he would be valued this time.