Chapter Text
The grate creaks as he lowers it slowly. Tim drops down, wincing slightly. Despite his best efforts his shoulder is fucked. His footsteps echo, or maybe that’s just his heartbeat? His cell was so quiet that his heartbeat was audible. It was not pleasant. Quickly he runs, Mr. Oz is not here. In the three (he thinks it was three? Time slipped by slow and then fast alone) weeks he’s been here he’s worked out a schedule.
The hallways are all gleaming silver, futuristic. There’s a hum that speaks of powerful engines. It’s just Tim’s luck to be captured and stuck on a spaceship. He just hopes that it’s near Earth, or at least has driveable escape pods or shuttles.
He discovers the ship bay by accident, leaning against a wall to catch his breath, when the wall gives out beneath his back, opening to the docking bay. God his ribs hurt, and his leg, and his face, and you know what he just hurts.
He see’s Earth below him, the door at the end is a vacuum, and if he weren’t trying to escape he would spend hours examining it. He walks between the space ships (they look more like advanced planes), trying their doors. One opens and he heaves a sigh of relief.
There is no ignition, Tim begins to doubt his plan, but now isn’t the time for it. Bruce and the others depend on him. At least he knows that Mr. Oz doesn’t have them, but something must have happened if they haven’t come for him.
The ship responds to his touch, he gets the hang of it soon enough. The vacuum lets him through and this really is wonderful planning but he can’t examine it now.
His ribs ache and his pains increase with every shake and bump on the ride down back to Earth. He panics when he starts crashing, but the ship auto corrects. He lands far away from Gotham, he can’t take the risk of someone seeing him.
Tim must have some good luck because he finds a car a mile from his landing site. He picks the door and hot wires it easily enough. It’s got a full tank of gas. Tim smiles.
“I’m coming for you,” he says, to who he’s not sure. His entire family he supposes.
It’s an hour until he hits Gotham City limits. He rides all the way to the road leading to Wayne Manor, it’s there he runs out of gas. He walks.
Can’t go through the front door, it’s probably being watched, there must be something up. If there wasn’t then Bruce and the others would’ve found me ages ago.
He sneaks around the woods, to the back of the house and the family cemetery. He decides to walk through there.
“That’s odd,” Tim mumbles, a stab of fear goes through him at the sight of flowers on a recent grave. Oh God, someone died. He stumbles forward, noting that the flowers aren’t fresh but wilted, the soil has yet to be grown over yet.
Tim falls back when he sees the name on the tombstone.
Timothy Jackson Drake. That’s his name, but that’s not possible. They, they wouldn’t have given up on him. They have to know he’s alive. What if he’s in a different universe? That’s a possibility right?
Panic sets in, Tim runs blindly from the manor. His safehouse, he needs to find his safehouse.
He can’t even feel it when his leg starts screaming at him to stop, when his ribs start crying and aching and his lungs heave. It’s only once he gets back to the city that he slows down and starts to think.
It would be suicide to walk around in his Robin costume, as worn and shredded as it is. There’s a thrift shop across the street, and he has some money on him.
The dressing room mirror shows just how messed up he looks. He’s got just a little stubble (if Jason were here he’d mock him, and if Alfred were here he’d say it’s due to Tim’s poor diet) he’s still got dried blood tracked all over his face, but on the bright side his bruising is healing, even if it’s on the ugly side of healing.
He cleans off the blood in the bathroom, then he pays for the clothes he’s wearing with ripped tags. The woman checking him out doesn’t even blink twice.
The safehouse he’s heading for is relatively close. On the way he passes a Batburger, his stomach grumbles at the sight of it. Tim looks inside forlornly. He’s about to turn away when something makes him do a doubletake. At a booth are Dick, Bruce, Jason, Damian and Duke.
They’re laughing, they look happy? But it’s only been a month since his “death”.
Bruce never let him do anything like that, never even though thought of taking them all to a Bat themed restaurant.
If Tim were a romantic he’d say that he heard the crack of his heart breaking, of his entire being shattering. But he’s not, and it’s probably just the sound of windows being smashed in.
Panic sets in, Tim’s breathing quickens but it feels like he’s drowning. They’re happy but he’s dead. He’s dead to them? But here they are laughing together like, like a family. It hasn’t even been a month since he supposedly died. Does he, did he, even matter to them? Did they even mourn him?
Hot tears begin to drip, his anxiety kicks in and he starts running to the only place he knows is safe.
The door unlocks when he enters the passcode. Tim slams into the door, face wet with hot tears.
He claws at himself, some part of him feels the skin tearing, but most of his mind is sidetracked.
Did they love him? Did they ever love him? Was it all just made up? Were they just lies told to keep him complacent?
He stumbles around, he bangs into the couch, dull pain rails up his hip. Tim makes his way into the bathroom, he hits the door closed behind him and sinks to the floor, clutching his head, pulling his hair.
They never loved him, he wasn’t ever one of them. They pretended, they never actually meant it, he had thought, he had suspicions, but he never actually wanted to believe it. They didn’t even look for him. They thought, think, oh god they think he’s dead.
He devoted his everything to them, to the mission to Bruce, and they give him up for dead.
His sobs echo on the tile.
He thinks he’s having a panic attack, but Tim’s too lost in his thoughts to really care. Maybe he actually will die, maybe then those that he thought were his family would be please.
His family, he doesn’t have a family. His family gave him up, they left him with Mr. Oz. They should’ve looked harder, he looked harder! He believed in all of them and they just left him.
They never completely accepted him. Tim had to fight his way in, he had to claw his way in, fighting for every scrap. None of the other Robins had to fight like he did, had to prove themselves. Dick didn’t, Jason didn’t, hell Damian tried to kill him and he never had to prove himself like Tim did.
Tim gave himself entirely for them, and this is how they react? He devoted every part of himself to their cause, and yet they can’t even investigate to see if he’s actually dead?
At that moment an anger came over Tim that he had never felt in his life.
This is how he gets repaid? Years of service, years of believing in them and dealing with their shit? He lost a spleen for Bruce, he fought off Ra’s for his family.
He broke himself to become what they needed, and they can’t even put fresh flowers on his grave? Fine, if they don’t need him, don’t want him, then he doesn’t want them either. He doesn’t need them. He’ll show them, just how much he’s worth. He’ll make them understand. He’s finished with devoting himself to causes that’ll never love him back. He’s tired of fracturing himself for them.
It’s time for him to think about himself, and what he wants.
He’ll start with building something for himself, and no one else.
***
Starting a gang war wasn’t nearly as hard as he thought it would be. Neither was swooping in to claim the territory freed from the bloodshed.
If starting one war was easy, starting four is a piece of cake. Although taking the remains of the last one was a tad hard, the guy set to inherit wasn’t big on giving it up. Tim ended up having to kill him. He really gets why Jason likes using guns so much now, not just as a fuck you to Bruce. They really are efficient. He still thinks he prefers knives.
Guns can get impersonal, and while he’s finished with the mission he still doesn’t feel like becoming a mass murderer if he can help it. He’ll settle for only killing when needed.
Slowly his empire is being built. It’s not just in Gotham though, it would be stupid to become big in one night, then Bruce and the others would be on him, he doesn’t plan on confronting them just yet.
Tim also claims territory in other cities, he’ll admit it, he gets a bit of a sick kick out operating right under the so called heroes very noses, not that they were ever heroes to him when he was stuck with Mr. Oz.
It’s been almost a month since he found out about his death, things have been going well.
He’s now a fairly successful underground boss, and the Bats are going crazy about it (he’s not sure when he started calling them the Bats, but it’s stuck). Tim’s careful in making sure that no one’s ever seen his face. Normally the minor bosses would never settle for working under someone they don’t even know, but they’ve made a special exception (Red Hood’s own debut into the underworld has left them shaken, and he’s cut good deals with them) for him.
As much as it pains him to admit it, his deals are similar to Jason's’
(and god he wishes he could separate himself from the Bats entirely), no dealing to children, yada yada all those fun morals that Tim just can’t shake (and he’s not sure if it’s proof that somewhere inside him he’s a good person, yuck, that he can’t shake said morals, or if the fact that he refers to adhering to morals as not being able to shake them is proof that he’s a horrible person,which is much more likely).
Most business is dealing in weapons and drugs, running drug rings and other such illegal activities.
Tonight though, tonight he’s dealing in information. The only problem is first he needs to get it.
He waits until night to do it, and this life really isn’t so different than his previous, he just happens to be on the other side of the law.
Tim’s new uniform is simple black kevlar, his staff replaced by knives kept in every nook and cranny (if Dick were here he’d say Tim has more knives than friends, but Tim’s never had many friends, he does however have many knives).
Rather than a mask he wears a balaclava. If he were to wear a mask like the Bats they would have suspicions on just who he was.
The laboratory that holds the information he needs is heavily guarded, it might as well have a stuffed dog for a security system for all the good it does them.
Hacking the system is easy, Tim begins to become wary. Normally when things are this easy it means there’s a trap.
However no one stops him on the way out, no alarms go off. Nothing happens until he’s halfway home in downtown. He should’ve know crawling rooftops would’ve drawn attention.
“I don’t know if you’re real lucky, or if you’re just well trained.” The familiar metallic voice sends shivers down Tim’s back. Anticipation? Fear?
Tim turns around to see Red Hood leaning against a chimney. He looks relaxed, he’s lying.
Tim hadn’t planned on approaching the Bat’s for another month at least, but the sight of Jason looking so relaxed, so normal, as if he didn’t just lose a brother two months ago, sends anger rushing over Tim like a wave.
An anger so hot it feels cold is reflected in his voice.
“You were right Jason,” he starts.
Jason tightens obviously surprised.
Tim laughs coldly, it echoes off the roof around them.
He continues, “I was never anything but a replacement. You kept telling me, but I just didn’t want to believe it.”
“Tim?” Jason’s voice is full of disbelief, he takes a step towards Tim. Tim doesn’t step back, he’s tired of running.
“I would say the one and only, but we know that’s not true, a replacement is easily replaceable.”
“But you’re dead,”
Tim wants to snarl, wants to rage at that. Of all the things for the dead boy to say it just had to be an expression of disbelief at coming back to life.
“That never stopped you, now did it Jason? The the real sad thing though is that unlike you, I never actually died asshole. I believed in all of you, and you just gave me up for dead.”
Tim watches the twitch in Jason’s hand, how he pretends to wave it. He knows that he’s just sent an SOS but he ignores it. He has a lot of things to say, a lot of emotions to spill, a lot of anger to share. If he’s lucky Bruce will be the one coming. He’d settle for Nightwing though.
“Tim, we thought you were dead.” Tim laughs but it’s just air escaping. He knows Jason is stalling for time.
“Yeah well I thought that my family was going to rescue me. Apparently we don’t always think correctly, even with all the training.”
“We saw you die, we watched the footage, you were obliterated.”
Tim scoffs “Please. You’re all detectives remember? Since when has footage meant anything as final evidence?”
“We couldn’t find anything left of you!” Jason’s voice cracks, it sounds desperate, as if he’s doubting himself. Good.
“And that should’ve been your first clue that I wasn’t fucking dead!” Tim’s voice cracks also, he didn’t mean to lose control of his emotions but here he is, “I was captured Jason! I thought you were too! I kept saying that my family would find me, that they would rescue me! I sat in a cell for weeks, with nothing but my heartbeat as a companion, do you have any idea how crazy it makes you, to hear your own heartbeat?” “You never came, none of you ever came, and I began to think that I wasn’t the only one captured that you were too, that something had happened to you. And I escape and look for you, and I find my own grave, my own grave. I go to town, and I see you all sitting at a goddamn Batburger, laughing a month after my funeral. At least I assume there was a funeral. Tell me Bruce, was there a funeral?”
Tim turns to Batman who is a couple of feet away trying to sneak up behind him.
Bruce freezes.
“Answer me, Dad, was there a funeral?”
“Yes, Tim. There was a funeral.” His voice doesn’t stutter, doesn’t crack with emotion like Tim’s.
“Oh good, at least you could do that much. Tell me, did you have lilies? You know how I just love lilies.” The vicious undertones are heard by Bruce.
“No, we had carnations and forget me nots.”
Tim shrugs looking disappointed. “Ironic.”
“Tim,” Bruce starts. That familiar anger washes over him again.
“Don’t Tim me, Dad! You honestly thought I was dead! You didn’t even test to see if that were true! Really obliteration? And you didn’t do the basic math? Didn’t realize that there wasn’t enough leftover Tim goo to make a full body? And don’t even tell me we don’t have the tech for that, I designed it so I should damn well know!”
“Tim,” Bruce’s hand reaches for him, Tim side steps and lets out a noise halfway between a laugh and a choked sob.
“You know Bruce, it’s not just the fact that you thought I was dead, I mean you’ve had how many Robins die now?, no it was the fact that you were so readily able to accept it. I saw the tombstone, you had a funeral not even a week after my supposed death. You couldn’t hold out hope, even with all the evidence pointing towards me living?”
“I devoted my very being to you, I was the perfect soldier, I was ready to die for you! And you couldn’t even believe in me? Couldn’t believe that I might not be dead? Bruce gazes at him with sadness written into his posture.
“We couldn’t bare to get our hopes up, I couldn’t handle the feeling of hoping only to be proven wrong.”
Tim looks at him with tears pricking at his eyes. “I did,” he whispers.
He doesn’t wait for Bruce’s reply, he doesn’t feel like fighting right now. He just wants to curl into a ball and sob. He wishes he had actually died that day, at least he’d have died thinking they loved him.
Jason reaches for him, he’s too slow. Tim’s already off the roof shooting a grapple. His tears blur as the wind whips past him. He hits the ground running, footsteps echo behind him. They probably know about him killing. They probably want to lock him up. Well fuck them
It’s time Tim got what he wanted.
He calls some of his men over his comm, ordering them to wait in a sewer. Tim races there, dropping in a drainage ditch and crawling down. His men are there waiting at the junction.
“Batman, Red Hood behind me, don’t fight keep them busy. I’ll bail you out and pay for all your kid’s college tuitions.”
He’s barely turned the next corner when he hears a scuffle behind him. If the Bats think they’ll find him then they’re crazy. He’s traveled these sewers in the hours that sleep escaped them. Their nooks and crannies are known to him. He picks a hide out spot. It’s there that Tim waits for a chance to surface.
“What do you mean he’s alive?” Dick’s voice travels to Tim’s ears, “Oh my god.”
Tim rolls his eyes and wipes away tears. Dicks just upset that Tim now knows that he lied. Just upset that his brotherly kindness was found to be fake and that he’s not as good of an actor as he thinks he is.
Minutes pass before a chance appears, Tim seizes it, dashing madly towards the opening to sweet fresh air (at least as fresh as Gotham air gets).
There’s shouting behind him, but it’s too late. By the time Nightwing and Robin have gotten to the surface Tim’s slipped into the crowd.
***
It’s late by the time Tim gets back to his newest safehouse. He had to retrace his steps a couple of times to make sure no one was following him.
The balaclava and suit are thrown off and into the laundry basket. Whether they’re salvageable from sewer stink will be decided at noon, when Tim wakes up.
He’s numb at this point, it’s a defense mechanism he thought he was finished using after he became Robin. Guess he thought wrong. He’s two for two today.
Honestly, Tim’s not sure what he expected. He wasn’t expecting anything when he first revealed himself to Jason, he just knew that had emotions bottled up inside and they wanted out.
Tim freezes, and mentally berates himself for not noticing sooner. For now he’ll blame it on being so tired.
“Hello Detective. Death looks good on you.”