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Chapter Text

Tim flicked his wrist releasing two detonating birdarangs towards the Xytherian that flew towards him as he made his way to the control centre of the main tower.  The birdarang imbedded itself into its chest, its faceless grey body blew apart as black blood and limbs decorated the walls. Tim skidded around the corner and threw open the doors in front him. He didn’t look back down the corridor as he slammed the doors closed, even when he heard the echo of enraged screeches coming from the aliens closing in on his location.

Tim clicked his com, isolating the line between him and Cassie.

“Wondee,” He panted, wincing as he applied further pressure to the gaping wound in his abdomen. “When you are on the ship, I need you to contact the lantern corp when you get in range of their signal, the ship may be too damage to make the full trip.”

“Rob— What?” Cassie’s voice came through, he could tell by her cadence and tone that she was in the middle of a fight.

“I’m not making it out of here,” Tim closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. He knew he wasn’t going to make it off this cursed planet but saying it out loud felt so final. His hands trembled against his wound as he slid down the door of the control room, leaving a trail of blood against the cool metal surface. “This planet is going to explode by the time any of you reach me and get us all on Bart’s ship… I— I can buy you all time to get out of here safely,”

“Tim, I’m… I’m not leaving you; you can’t ask me to do that,” Cassie’s voice broke.

“I’m sorry but I’m not asking you; I’m telling you. Please, Cassie” His breath hitched in his throat, “I need you to— I need you to tell them that it was an honour to fight alongside them and that there are videoed letters…”

“Tim… don’t”

Tim could hear a noise of distress through the com line. He ran a hand through his hair, ignoring his blood that had coated his gauntlet. Leaving this message with Cassie, he knew it was the best course of action to ensure they made it out safe, but he still felt guilty. He knew she had lost Donna over a year ago, but he couldn’t ensure the safety of her and the others without her help.

“Cassie, please. I’m sorry, okay? But earth needs it heroes, the Titans. And they’ll need you. Don’t subject them all to a fate of death to save mine,”

There was silence on the other end of the line as Tim finished his sentence. The only indicator that she was still there on the other side was the barely audible rugged edge of her breath in his ear.

“No, there has to be another way. We’ve always found another way.” The desperation seeped into her voice as she pleaded.

“I know,” Tim closed his eyes. “But not this time.”

Another silence. Then a muffled curse followed closely by a crash through the com as Cassie threw something.

“You don’t get to do this” She said, her voice cracking, “Not after everything.”

“I wouldn’t, if I had a choice. You know that.”

She was silent again for few moments.

“I hate this. I hate this,”

“I know.”

 Another pause. “… Okay. I— okay.”

Tim clicked his com back to the open channel and wearily stood up. An uncomfortable feeling settling in his stomach at the realisation he wasn’t going home finally hit him. He’d never train surf and joke around with Dick again, see Bruce’s rare smile after he had solved a particularly difficult case, eat bat-burgers next Cass and Steph while on patrol, enjoying each others silent company, or even sit with Alfred after school, sipping tea before he did his homework. He wouldn’t … He wouldn’t get to grow up. He knew this was the right thing to do, but fear coursed through his veins. He didn’t want to die, but he knew the risks of the job. It was his time.

His vision darkened for a moment as he stepped towards the console, eyes flitting over the alien technology.

“Titans, reconvene at the ship; we are making a retreat,” Tim ordered through gritted teeth. He opened the computer on his gauntlet, using the exposed cables to connect himself to the mainframe of the tower. A chorus of affirmatives echoed in his ear as he pulled his focus to the task before him. A countdown appeared on the holographic monitor before him. He had five minutes, the numbers blinking tauntingly in a bright red light that cast a red glow across Tim’s bloodied face. He moved through the firewall, ignoring the countdown to the best of his ability. He could the stop the clock for thirty seconds before the failsafes overrode his code, but he would have to time it with when the titans where in the air to ensure their safety in case him interfering with the countdown expedited its process.

“Rob, where are you? The rest of us are on the ship.” Kon’s voice came through the line, he could hear the worry in his tone. Looking back up at the numbers blinking before him, he realised that he was running out of time to get them home safe.

1:42

He opened another screen and began to remotely start up the ship, closing the doors and sealing his friends in. He felt a tear run down his face beneath the mask as he went back to working on delaying the countdown.

“Bart! Undo whatever you just did!” Kon’s voice raised in alarm at the click of the outer hatches locking into place.

“That wasn’t me!” Bart defended and Tim could hear him running from console to console by the sound of wind and static in his ear. “This stupid computer isn’t letting me undo it!”

“Thank you, guys,” Tim began, everything was set now. He remotely activated the thrusters to lift the ship into the air. Flicking to other screen he pressed the button to pause the timer. “I couldn’t have asked for better team… or better friends.” His voice wavered. “I— I need you to go home. Live. Be the heroes I always knew you to be.”

“No! No, are you stupid? We are not leaving you! Bart depower the ship!” Kon yelled, his voice cracking with emotion.

“I can’t! I’m trying!”

“Tell Bruce…” He stopped. There wasn’t enough time to say what he wanted— no, needed to say. Not to Bruce, not to any of them.

“You guys mean everything to me. Just… just take care of each other, okay?” A small, tired smile ghosted his lips, “You guys are my family. You always were.”

He heard the sound of protests and panic as both Bart and Kon tried to turn back to get him. The audio suddenly cut, filled with static as the ship moved out of range and he turned the com off, breathing heavily. He sunk to the floor in defeat, his blood pooling beneath him as the countdown flickered and continued.

0:57

He knew Cassie would have hung her head in silent resignation, he could imagine the tears he knew she would be shedding dropping onto her torn uniform. Bart would be panicking, running from console to console trying to get through Tim’s lockout code but failing to do so in time. And Kon? Kon would be running a hand through his hair, tears brimming in his eyes as he paced back and forth.

0:38

He could see them so clearly in is mind, and it was a sick sort of comfort that they would mourn him in his sacrifice. But they would live to see another day because of it. Because of him, and he was content with that knowledge.

0:23

The countdown blinked tauntingly at him; his vision blurring in his blood loss. A laugh bubbled up his throat, blood coating his tongue and he couldn’t help but think of how poetic it was. He was going to die in an explosion just like Jason had. Another Robin dead.

0:18

He hoped his family would be okay. That Cass continued making Gotham safer. That Alfred would stay strong in wake of another death in the family. That Barbara wouldn’t let his death hinder the good work she does as Oracle.

0:13

That Dick would find support and not lock himself away in the knowledge that another boy had died in his uniform.

0:09

That his family wouldn’t let Bruce fall in his grief, that they would follow that request in the videoed letters he had locked away on the Bat-computer in case of his death.

0:05

0:04

0:03

Tim closed his eyes, hanging his head in resignation. He had saved them. They would live.

0:02

“I’m sorry, Bruce.”

0:01

The world fell silent as a bright white light overtook his vision from behind his eyelids. Then there was nothing.

—

It was silent in the hull of the ship as the planet below them exploded in a bright ring of fire. The three heroes stood together, observing what little remnants of the planet flew through space from the force of the explosion. The ship shook in response to the shockwaves that rippled out. No one would have survived that.

Cassie let out a distressed sound as she collapsed to the ground with her head in her hands. She began sobbing, her cries echoing through the chamber in the hull of the ship. Kon slowly turned to Bart who was still. He was never still, his hands silently hovered over the console from where he was trying to get through Tim’s coding. The young teen stared out the panes of glass in the doors behind them, his mouth was slightly agape, and his eyebrows scrunched, creasing his forehead.

Kon couldn’t think straight, his thoughts coming through in incomprehensible pieces. He turned away from the windows depicting the aftermath of the explosion, he couldn’t look at it anymore. Kon ran a hand through his hair trying to get his breathing under control. Tim had sacrificed himself for them. He died. His best friend had died and— and they couldn’t save him..

They couldn’t save him.

Kon wasn’t a stranger to death, it came with the business. He saw death most weeks, he saw the bloodied corpses of civilians from the attacks of supervillains, he had seen other heroes collapse under a fist. But it never felt like this. This emptiness that crawled up his spine. That clawed at his heart and crushed his lungs in its grip. It never felt like this.

He hadn’t truly thought about the mortality of himself before, let alone his friends. Tim seemed untouchable, holding his own against super-powered heroes with ease. So much so that people assumed he was a meta because that was just how good he is.

Was. How good he was.

He couldn’t breathe. Kon collapsed to the ground next to Cassie one hand still in his hair as he pressed his back against the wall. She was still crying, her hands cradling her head as she took in sharp pointed breaths. Kon mindlessly put an arm around her, and she immediately fell into his embrace. He tightened his grip around her as she continued to cry, staring at the floor unblinking as he tried to process his thoughts.

In moments, he felt a weight press against his other side, Bart had moved from his position at the console, slowly leaning his head on Kon’s shoulder. When had he moved? Kon pressed his face into the mop of hair, letting silent tears fall. He wrapped them all in a layer of his TTK, hoping the blanket weight would be some sort of comfort in the wake of leaving Tim behind.

The three of them stayed in each other’s embrace for a long time. Cassie’s sobs had been replaced by silent tears. No one spoke. Kon leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

—-

He awoke to alarms blaring, flashes of red coating the cabin in an eerie light. Bart was already speeding around the console, flicking switches and pressing buttons in quick succession. Cassie stood the side near the computer, shuffling through frequencies.

“What’s going on?” Kon asked, pulling himself off the floor and straightening up before walking towards Cassie. Careful not to disrupt the speedster as he raced around the hull of the ship.

“The ship was damaged in our landing on the Xytherian planet, it’s not going to make it to earth unless we call the Lantern Corps before the ship powers down,” Cassie stated neutrally without looking up from the computer. “We are running on fumes at the moment, and it could be moments before we shut down for good.”

Kon looked down and noticed her shaking hands scrambling across the keyboard.

“Cassie, take a break,” Kon ordered and pulled her away from the console after a moment of resistance. Her gaze shifted up to him, her eyes swollen and red. He saw a deep gash on her side poking out of her uniform as she moved her arm and tucked her tangled hair behind her ear. He couldn’t imagine that he would look much better at this moment. “Go to the med bay, you’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine! I have to do this,” She snapped looking up at him with fire in her eyes for few seconds before glancing away guiltily and stepping back. “Sorry, I— um, yeah, I’ll go to the med bay, I’ll be back shortly.”

Kon watched her walk away, dragging her feet as she slowly made her way to the med bay. He returned his attention to the computer screen before fiddling with the frequency. Shuffling through various streams before a bright green light flashed in front of him.

“Identifier: TT511920, requesting assistance. Ship compromised.” He held his breath as he followed the script, hopeful that there would be some response. When no one answered, he repeated the request, pausing for a few seconds before starting the process again.

“TT511920, request heard. Identifier Response: LC7185514. Coordinates?” He breathed a sigh of relief as the voice came through the main speakers of the ship.

“Coordinates are unsure, main terminal system is down. We are somewhere in the Xytherian Sector closing in on earth.” Bart responded before Kon could, having stilled next to him the moment the voice rang through. Bart’s forehead creased in worry as his eyes darted back towards the console and Kon belatedly realised that this was the first time he had heard Bart speak since the explosion. For someone who never stopped talking or joking, it was an unwelcome change considering the circumstances.

“An officer of the Lantern Corp, will find and escort you. Stay in position.”  Bart nodded despite not being able to be seen and flicked a switch, the red flashing stopped, and he heard the generators power down. The only light illuminating the room was now the strips of LED along the walls.

“This is so moded,” Bart muttered his knuckles were white form his grip on the edge of the console. “I— He’s really gone, isn’t he?”

Bart turned back to him at the question, and in that moment Kon saw how young Bart really was. The fourteen-year-old stared back at him, tears brimming in his eyes. In lieu of answering, Kon stepped forward and pulled Bart into a hug, the young teen beginning to shake in his embrace.

“We will make sure to honour him every day of our lives, he won’t be forgotten.” Kon whispered, barely audible but he knew Bart could hear him. “He— he sacrificed himself for us, we owe him that.”

“The corp’s is here,” Cassie interrupted nodding towards the window as she walked up behind the pair. Kon turned to look and saw an alien in a glowing green suit close in on the ship.

They were going home. But they all carried the hollow weight of someone who would never stand beside them again. 

Chapter Text

There was no pain, the cool crushing weight of the darkness enveloped him. It was peaceful of sorts, yet he felt the panic rise as memories flooded his mind. His team, the mission, his death. He was dead right? No one could’ve survived that explosion. But his consciousness was awake though, his mind alive. Where was he?

As if responding to his thoughts, the darkness started to lift, not with light but with space. The world around him blurring into a flurry of colours as the faint sounds of chatter and music gradually grew louder.

In moments he went from being within the nothingness, to standing at the entrance of a sixties themed diner. The one in the Upper East Side of Gotham his parents would take him to when they were back from their trips around the world. Tim took a breath, steadying his heart rate. Why was he here? He couldn’t afford to panic; although he recognised the place, he knew he wasn’t really there. Bruce’s voice echoed in his mind ‘stay vigilant’. He was in an unfamiliar location with an unknown amount of danger. Okay, first step of bat protocol when waking up in an unknown— become familiar with your surroundings, search for danger and find safety.

Tim looked around carefully. There wasn’t anyone else there as far as he could tell yet he could still hear the noise of conversation, however indiscernible it was. He stepped forward, the light filtering in through the slitted shades on the windows and door behind him.

“Order up!” A young voice called out from behind the counter, Tim whirled around reaching for his collapsible bo-staff in his utility belt, but his hand only met the rough denim of his jeans. Tim looked down and saw his usual civvies that he adorned when he wasn’t on patrol. The old nirvana tee over a white undershirt. What the hell? How did he not notice this before?

“Can I get you something to drink?” Tim looked up at the voice and took a step back in surprise. Standing behind the counter was a younger version of himself staring at him expectantly, the diner branded hat comically too large for his head.

“What?” Tim questioned, his hand still tracing the outline of where his utility belt should’ve been. The younger version of himself huffed a laugh as he motioned towards the meal set out on the counter.

“Did you want something to drink?” He asked again.

“Uh yeah,” Tim walked over and climbed onto the stool. Looking down, he noticed it was one of his favourite meals, one of Alfred’s meals, one definitely not served at this diner. “I’ll have a Zesti, please.”

“One Zesti coming right up!” Little Tim said cheerily as he disappeared behind the counter and reappeared with the familiar red can. “You know that you eat by putting the food in your mouth, right? Not by staring at it.”

Tim rolled his eyes and picked up the knife and fork before him, digging into the meal. The food melted on his tongue as the bittersweet memories of eating that exact meal in the dining room at the Manor flickered to the forefront of his mind. Tim looked up, locking eyes with his younger self as if to say ‘are you happy now?” and was greeted with an innocent smile in return, showcasing the gaps in his teeth from where his baby teeth had fallen out.

“So, where am I?” Tim said around a mouthful of food before placing his cutlery down and swallowing.

“At Granny El’s Diner? Where else would you be?”

Tim paused, looking at the young boy sceptically. “I died…”

“Well, duh,” Little Tim rolled his eyes fondly, “How else would you end up here?”

“Is this the afterlife?”

His mind flashed to Steph’s smile and his father’s last words “It’s not your fault”. Because if this was the afterlife, he would get to reunite with them, tell them how sorry he was for everything, how he didn’t make it in time. Cause despite his father’s last words, it was his fault, both of their deaths. All his decisions as Robin had been the catalyst to their demise and maybe being dead wouldn’t be such a bad thing if he got to spend the rest of eternity with the people he loved.

Little Tim started laughing, hard, clutching his stomach after a couple of seconds as if he had just heard the funniest joke. Tim couldn’t help the disappointment that settled in his gut at the implication of the laughter.

“Oh, you are hilarious!” Little Tim huffed between laughs, wiping away an invisible tear, “Is this the afterlife?”

Tim scowled at the younger boy. “So far, you haven’t provided me with any information as to where I am, what you are and why I am here. I think I am entitled to ask questions without mockery.”

Tim leaned back against the backrest of the stool and crossed his arms, giving Little Tim his best glare to which the young boy quickly sobered up at.

“I guess,” Little Tim shrugged half-heartedly as he reached to clean some glasses with a rag from his pocket before continuing. “The basic gist of it is that each millennium—the dead dream of life—most are not chosen—you were. Yada Yada.”

“Chosen for what?” Tim interrupted at the pause in his phrasing.

“If you would let me continue,” Little Tim huffed and pointed the glass in his hand towards Tim, “I would’ve said that you have been chosen to compete in a set of… trials? I think that’s the best way to put it. Anyway, I’m supposed to prepare you for them, give you run down essentially.”

“That is—what,” Tim muttered running a hand down his face, he was beginning to really hate the smaller version of him.

 “Your life was deemed worthy enough so now you get a chance to go back, congratulations!” His younger version lifted his arms and did jazz hands ignoring Tim’s muttering. “You’ll be competing against other people who have been given the same opportunity to go back to their lives, but only one can go through the veil.”

There was silence for a few moments as Tim digested the information, annoyance fading away as he thought of home. When he spoke, it was small. “I could go home?”

“Yup!” Little Tim nodded, popping the ‘p’.

“And I’ll be competing to go back?”

Little Tim nodded again. “Other worthy people over the current Millenia who have been selected will be vying for the same chance of life, though. So, it will be difficult, the challenges are designed to test the best of humanity.”

Tim sat in silence again as Little Tim returned to cleaning the glasses behind the counter. Tim could go home. If he closed his eyes, he could almost see himself hanging at the Arcade with Ives and Bernard, or sitting on the stained couch at Titans Tower hanging with his team whilst Bart devoured the popcorn before anyone else could have any. He could see himself dancing with Cass in the ballroom of the manor, train surfing with Dick, having tea in the parlour with Alfred and flying through Gotham with Bruce by his side.

He suddenly realised how much he already missed it, the knowledge that he was never going back had sat heavy in his gut. But he could have his life back, he had a second chance. Tim was only fifteen, he hadn’t even graduated high school yet! He wanted to go to college, fight crime alongside the best of them and help rehabilitate those who need it, have Alfred’s real cooking, and receive hair ruffles as Dick would pass by the cave. He had the chance to honour Steph and his Father by living the life they would’ve wanted for him. He had the chance to go back and do it all, have it all.

“What do I have to do?” Tim said with a fierce determination as he locked eyes with Little Tim.

“All you have to do is walk through those doors,” The younger version of himself instructed whilst smiling softly as he looked over and pointed towards the entrance of the diner. Tim followed his gaze. “I really hope I see you on the other side, I did vouch for you after all.”

Tim looked back at Little Tim before sliding off the stool and walking towards the doors. “I guess I’ll see you on the other side then,”

“Good luck!”

Tim didn’t turn around as the voice called after him. He was going to make it, he had been trained by Lady Shiva, Nightwing and Batman. He was Robin, he would make it home, he would pass all the tests thrown his way.

Tim’s hand wrapped around the door handle and pulled. His vision overtaken by a bright white light as the world around him blurred into the flurry of colours.

—

Tim could vaguely register the spinning sensation as the world shifted again, his feet giving way to solid ground as he landed in a heap on the dirt floor.

Groaning, Tim blinked away the dots in his vision as his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness. Hedges towered over him, lining a long straight path that forked into different directions a few hundred metres away.

Tim’s hand brushed up against something cold as he tried to find leverage to hoist himself up. He jolted back at the sensation before quickly realising that it was his bo-staff. The one Bruce and he had crafted specifically for him early on in his Robin career. Tim wrapped his hand around the staff and pulled himself up, the familiarity of the staff’s weight a strange comfort in the face of the unknown.

He took a moment to steady his breath as he he took in his surroundings, eyes scanning the hedge walls that loomed above him for any signs of danger. There was only one direction to go.

So, he walked forward without looking back.

Shadows stretched out around him, shifting under the moonlight. Unease trickled down his spine at the wrongness of it all. The world surrounding him felt uncanny as if someone had tried to recreate it from memory but missed something vital in the process.

Tim had been walking for hours. No sound, just a ringing silence that set him on edge. No signs of the other competitors either, but that didn’t ease his anticipation or worry. If anything, it increased with each step of not encountering someone else.

Wait,

there.

He didn’t mishear; another scream cut through the air causing Tim to freeze mid-step before he broke out into a run. He strained his ears as he tried to locate the direction from where the scream had come from before he stumbled into a clearing through an opening in the hedges. A circular arena lined by solid rock walls that reached up into the sky greeted him before his gaze was quickly drawn to the commotion in the middle.

A ginormous man (if that’s what it could be called), dangled a woman by her throat a few feet of the ground as she struggled against his grip. Her fear illuminated by the firelight dancing from a large bonfire in the middle of the clearing. The thing kind of reminded him of Bane, the way its muscles bulged out of its skin. The man turned and what Tim saw was not human. His face squished together, where his eyes should’ve been was scarred skin, where his ears should’ve been were holes drilled into to side of his head. The thing sniffed the air, its large snout twitching in response as he carried the woman, lifting her higher as he moved. Tim could vaguely register its likeness to a mole and smiled at the thought before he was distracted by another gargled screech from the woman as the claws dug into her throat, blood seeping out in spurts.

“Hey, mole man!” Tim’s mouth moved before he could think, his focus solely on the woman in danger and trying to get that things attention off her. It whirled around at Tim’s voice and snarled, sharp teeth baring in the firelight. Momentarily distracted by Tim, it dropped the woman who crumpled in a heap at its feet, unmoving.

Shit, okay, he didn’t think that through. The thing tensed and Tim raised his Bo Staff. He knew he couldn’t win a fight against it physically, so he’d have to outmanoeuvre it, outthink it. Oh, and also avoid the sharp claws that he had just noticed glinting in the light as the thing sniffed the air again as if trying to pin-point Tim’s exact location.

Pushing down the panic, Tim planted his feet and got ready to roll. The mole-man charged forward towards Tim, its large feet kicking up dust in response. It reached out it’s arms but at the last moment Tim rolled to the right tucking his Bo staff in and quickly righted himself into a defensive stance. The thing crashed into the wall, its head colliding with the rock with an audible crack that made Tim wince. He moved backwards so that he was out of reach for when it got back up.

As the dust settled, the thing backed away from the wall and shook its head before letting out an outraged screech. Tim backed further away, tensely watching as it twitched. His foot grazed some pebbles, and the mole-mans head snapped towards his direction and growled before charging forward again.

Tim levelled his Bo staff and ran towards the thing before using the staff to vault over its head and land on its shoulders bringing the staff around its neck to block off airflow.

Tim vaguely registered a claw dig into his calf as his vision whited out in pain before he was knocked to the ground, falling hard on to his right side. He winced, bracing himself for the worst when he saw the outline of another person enter the fight drawing the things attention away from Tim. He couldn’t hear the taunts the person let out over the ringing in his ears but could see that the thing was distracted. Tim tried to move his leg and gritted his teeth in pain and realised that a part of the mole-mans claw had broken off and embedded itself into his calf.

Okay, he could work with this. It seemingly couldn’t focus on more than one thing at a time and if the person who was currently making it quite mad could keep it distracted, he could kill it using the claw. Tim breathed in harshly and yanked the claw out before shakily standing up. He tried to put weight on his right leg but almost crumbled under the pain. Shit. That wasn’t good, in that moment he really wished he was back home in the manor, with Dick, Bruce and Alfred. He just wanted to go home. But now, he had to focus, adjust his plan, help the person who had helped him and take this thing down.

Tim backed against the rocky wall again, hopeful that the thing was dumb enough to repeat the same mistake.

“Hey!” Tim yelled his vision clearing for a moment, the thing rounded on him snarling in recognition to the voice. It began to charge towards him, and Tim threw the claw over the mole-mans head towards the vague outline of the person who was chasing after it. Again, at the last moment Tim dove to the left as the thing collided with the wall and the person brought down the claw into its head. The mole-man crumpled and stilled.

Tim laid his head back against the dirt, breathing heavily before a hand reached out to check his pulse. Tim tensed, would this person finish him off? This whole idea was so stupid, he was at the mercy of another competitor. If they were smart they would end it, one less person to compete with in the chance to live again.

“Do you have a death wish?” The person hissed, “That was so dumb, you could’ve died.”

“Hey, less competition for you I guess,” Tim half joked, the relief washing over him and the person just chuckled before lifting Tim off the floor and leaning Tim into his side.

Tim tilted his head towards the person; the words caught on his tongue now that he could the persons face in the firelight.

Tim would recognise those freckles and pale blue eyes anywhere. He knew that face, had seen the portraits littered around the manor. Although he had never met him, not really. Tim recognised who that was. Even without the mask and armour.

Jason.

“Well, that sucked marginally less than dying,” Jason huffed a laugh, wiping blood from his cheek and forcing a smile before catching Tim’s expression. “Are you okay?”

Tim couldn’t respond right away, his mouth opening and closing dumbly as his mind caught up to the current situation, cause that was Jason. The legacy of Robin. His Robin. Bruce’s son and Dick’s brother. What the actual fuck.

Tim silently cursed Little Tim in his mind for not saying anything, cause seriously, what the fuck.

He quickly realised that Jason was awaiting a response, as the crease in his brow increased. “Uh, yeah, just a bit dazed, I guess. You?”

Jason chuckled again as they began to make their way across the clearing to an exit that must’ve opened up when the mole-man went down. “Yeah, I’m alright, didn’t have my calf ripped open,”

Tim winced at the reminder letting the silence sit for a moment. Why didn’t Jason leave him on the ground? Yes, he was Robin, he was good, but he could’ve just left and had the opportunity to go forward without the baggage of an injured boy clinging to his side.

“Why did you help me?”

Jason looked at him weirdly again, “Before you chucked the claw towards me, I was getting my ass handed to me. I don’t know about you, but an eye for an eye and all that,”

“Huh? You saved me first when the thing dug its stupid claws into my leg,”

“Schematics, besides you had some pretty cool moves I saw you pull off before i stepped in,” Jason shrugged with a smile before readjusting his grip around Tim’s waist and returning his attention towards the exit which had begun softly glowing.

Tim smiled to himself, cause this was Jason. How many times had he wanted to meet him? Talk to him? His legacy had hung heavily over his head the first year in his tenure as Robin. The names slips in the cave where Bruce would call him Jason before closing in on himself and sending Tim home or when he would be spending time with Dick who would laugh and call him Little Wing before quickly sobering up. He knew they didn’t mean anything by it, but it enforced the idea that Tim wasn’t Jason. Wasn’t who they were expecting every time they looked at him. Sure, it had improved a lot by the time he turned fifteen. And he loved them, he really did, and he knew that they loved him too, but every now and then he was their reminder that Jason was dead and Tim was in his place. God, how he wanted to go home and hug Dick, Bruce or Alfred instead of hobbling around in this shitty place. At least he was here with Jason. Jason…

“Only one can pass through the veil”. Little Tim’s voice echoed in his mind and...

Oh

The realisation dawning on him in that moment as he turned his head to face the boy holding him up. Tim would not be going home, Jason would be.

Tim had the chance to get Dick his brother back and Bruce, his son. He could do this, for them.

Because at the end of the line that was what it was all about, right? Tim wasn’t Bruce’s son, not like Jason was. Yes, Bruce had offered to adopt him, but that was out of obligation, right? For the mission? If Tim were carted out of Gotham after his father’s death a few months ago, he wouldn’t be able to continue being Robin. And besides, he became Robin because he saw the ramifications of Jason’s death.

He saw Bruce’s grief. Saw him patrolling each night not caring if he made it home. Saw the crushing guilt and love of a father who had lost his son. Gotham needed batman to protect the people from its darkness and Batman needed the light of Robin to keep himself from being consumed by it. And that’s why he stepped up. Became Robin. Not only because Jason’s death had broken Bruce, but also because Batman needed Robin.

Now? Bruce had the chance to get his family back. And Jason had that same chance. So, Tim made the decision, it was probably one of the easiest decisions he had ever made. He would do this for them. In his heart he knew that he had to ensure that Jason won these trials. For Bruce. For Dick. For Alfred.

Jason would make it home.

At all costs.

Chapter Text

6 months after Tim’s death

Jason hated the cemetery. He didn’t really know why he felt like he had to come, just that he should. At any rate, the engine between his legs had now cooled and all he had to do was get off the stupid bike and walk up the hill to where it was. Yet his knuckles were still white from his grip over the handlebars, his hands refusing to let go.

The past six months had been downright horrible. His whole plan, the ultimatum with Bruce and the Joker had gone as sideways as a plan could go— and he was the one left paying for it. Their final confrontation ending with the Joker back in the revolving doors of Arkham and Jason disappearing into the night with battered bones and a bruised ego. Bruce had looked at him with such displaced hope, and he hated it, so much. Cause if he was worth anything to him at all, he would’ve killed the Joker. How can someone say they love you, look at you like that, than do everything that proves the opposite?

In the beginning when he was with the league, he still believed that Bruce loved him, had placed blind faith in a man that had taken him under his wing and provided him with care and warmth. But he came back to Gotham, saw that Bruce never killed the Joker. If it was him who the Joker had tortured and killed, Jason would have gone to the ends of the earth to avenge him. Nothing short of death would’ve stopped him. So, was he not worth it? Did his life mean anything at all to Bruce?

Then his plan came into place. Sure, most of it was to confront Bruce, but a lot of it came from his experience as a kid. The cold, sleepless nights where the near constant naw of hunger had faded to a distant ache. The anxiety of not knowing when his next meal was. The bodies, some of which were kids his age that he had stumbled upon, shot, stabbed, or overdosed (don’t think about mom, don’t think about mom).

Talia had instilled a lot of information not only about the ongoings of Bruce and his bat brood but also the ideologies of the league. And to be fair, Jason didn’t necessarily oppose much of these ideologies she instilled. Rapists, pedophiles, and anyone who hurt the innocent, especially kids, deserves a fate much worse than the corrupt judicial system Gotham offered.

Screw Bruce’s moral code. He carved out a place for himself in Crime Alley, enforcing his law. No selling to children, no harming children, no abuse of the working girls among a plethora of similar rules, had been laid down in blood. And it was working. There were fewer overdoses, fewer deaths, people weren’t as scared, and they appreciated the effort he had put into his territory. So, yeah. Screw Bruce’s moral code, it didn’t work and Jason’s efforts were proof of that.

He was proud of the work he had done to clean up the alley, truly. But every night he was plagued by nightmares of a sinister smile and a pale face, laughter ringing in his ears as the crowbar came down, again and again and again. And each morning he would wake up disorientated, drenched in sweat and calling for Bruce. Then he would remember, and everything would come crashing down around him. The resentment and hurt filling his lungs, the anger that would claw its way up his throat. The phantom pain of the crowbar, lingering well into the morning even though the Lazarus Pit had wiped away all his scars and wounds from before.

It was all just a reminder of his worth to Bruce. He forgave Bruce for not saving him, it was his own dumb decisions and foolishly placed trust that resulted in his death. It was his own fault.

Jason took a steadying breath as he closed his eyes. His mind flashing back to a week ago where Dick had cornered him on a rooftop of one of his safe houses.

—

“Jason?” Dick took a tentative step forward as Jason immediately pointed a gun at his brother. Jason sat on the edge of the roof of his current apartment block, a cigarette lit between his fingers. He stared down Dick who was in full Nightwing getup and silently cursed the tinnitus in his ears for his lack of awareness. He didn’t have his helmet so Dick could clearly see who he was. Well, no use denying it now, Bruce had probably already told him.

“Guess the Bat-signals really is broken if they had to send you to come lock me up,”

“It really is you..” Dick whispered into the night air, completely ignoring Jason’s statement. He stepped forward again but stilled as Jason clicked the safety off. “I didn’t believe him, but you’re here. You’re here, you’re home.”

Jason remained silent, glaring at Dick who only met his gaze with a hopeful expression.

“What the fuck do you want?”

Dick just sighed and sat down on the ledge a few feet away before softly replying. “I just needed to see you with my own eyes,” 

“Well, you have. Now, you can go,”

Dick ignored Jason once again and looked out across the city.

“I killed the Joker for you.”

“Wh—What?” Jason choked on the words, he had not been expecting those words.

“And…” Dick paused, grief flashing across his face for a moment before he continued, “And for Tim,”

Jason just stared at the man he used to consider his older brother, too shocked to say anything.

“Bruce tried to kill him too, although I don’t think he would admit to it,” Dick rambled on. “I’m not actually sure if he would remember doing it, he was so overcome by grief I don’t doubt that his mind actually closed off during that time.”

—

The rest of the conversation blurred with that spectacular revelation. Everything Dick said had him pausing, in hind-sight, everything Talia had said had been very selective. Jason hadn’t realised the extent in which he had been manipulated. Of course, he understood that Talia had her own agenda, he wasn’t stupid, but freshly traumatised and risen from the dead sixteen-year-old Jason Todd who had just been thrown in the Lazarus Pit had stupidly trusted the first mother figure who had shown an ounce of care for him. The whole situation only exacerbated by Sheila’s betrayal of giving him up to the Joker.

Jason stared down at his hands, his grip around the handlebars tightening momentarily before relaxing. He glanced back up the hill of the cemetery. The gentle morning fog had lifted and he could see the well worn path up the hillside beckoning him.

He cursed underneath his breath and stilled for a moment before hopping of the bike and making his way through the gates.

Each morning he had this nagging voice in the back of his head that would tell him to come here. See where his successor was lain to rest, although he still didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like he had met the kid, but every time he thought about the new Robin he could see his goofy smile and intelligent eyes with such clarity that he felt nauseous. An itching sensation would crawl up his spine and combine with a sense of familiarity that left a bittersweet aftertaste in his mouth.

Jason stilled in front of the grave, absorbing the lines etched into the cold stone.

Timothy Jackson Drake

1995-2010

Son, Brother, Friend

The Best of Us

He knew Tim wasn’t below this gravestone, his body having been dissolved into the vastness of space after mission gone wrong where he had ultimately exchanged his life for his team. He knew what had happened, Talia had told him and he had even done his own research. Tim sacrificed himself, a noble death.

The sound of footsteps close by, drew his attention from his thoughts and he inwardly groaned.

“Are you following me, now?” He grit out, frustration bubbling in his chest. He pointedly did not turn towards the person who had walked up beside him.

“No, Jason, I just came to see our brother,” Dick sighed and Jason could feel the heavy weight in his words. “Our Brother” he had said. Did Dick still think of him as his brother after everything? Jason turned his head and studied Dick whose hands shook clutching a bundle of blue forget-me-nots as he looked upon the grave.

“He looked up to you, you know? Always said he wanted to live up to your name. Live up to the good you did.”

Jason didn’t say anything, returning his gaze to the words inscribed in stone. Tim looked up to him, why?  

“Sometimes I would even find him talking to your memorial in the cave,” Dick continued, his words coming out soft and distant, caught in a memory before his breath caught in his throat. “There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t regret that I could’ve done something. For both of you..”

Dick’s voice trailed off, tears threatening to run down his face as he bent down and placed the bundle of flowers at the base of the headstone.

“You couldn’t have done anything,” Jason said, surprising himself with the words he found himself agreeing with as Dick stood up. They stood together, a comforting blanket of silence wrapping around them. Jason reread the words, the date staring back at him mockingly. “He was my age,”

“Yeah,” Dick softly agreed. An understanding settling between the two in the words unspoken. He was the same age when he died… same age Jason died. Dick turned to look at him, hesitance in his gaze, “Alfred misses you— I, uh… I’ll see you around.”

Jason didn’t bother to say anything, only letting himself listen as the footsteps disappeared down the hill. Waiting, as the silence enveloped him.

“I’m sorry, kid.” Jason whispered, he knew what it was like to die young. He slowly reached into his pocket, pulling out a robin feather and gently placed it down next to the forget-me-nots. “I’m so sorry,”

It wasn’t like he had ever met the kid, but every time he thought about the Robin after him, he could see his goofy smile and intelligent eyes with such clarity.

—

Tim stared back at him, his face frozen mid laugh with Dick’s arm slung around his shoulders. The glossy paper crinkled in his grasp. Dick didn’t know how long he had been in Tim’s room, the bed sinking with his weight as he shifted and reached for another photo in the shoebox Tim had hidden in the closet.

“Oh, I remember that one!” Dick ignored the voice, but paused in his reach to grab another photo. The robin colours flickered in the corner of his vision. “You laughed so hard, soda came out your nose! Then soda came out my nose as I laughed at you.”

The voice laughed good-heartedly as the figure in corner of his vision swung its legs from where it sat on top of the desk. Dick finally looked up from the photo in his hands. Tim smiled back at him, and Dick could picture the crinkle in the corner of Tim’s eyes that were covered by the dark green of his domino. The green from Dick’s old uniform. The uniform that Tim had worn when he died.

“There was nothing you could’ve done, you know that right?” Tim appeared at the foot of the bed; his head tilted in consideration as he gazed down upon the disheveled mess of Dick Grayson who hadn’t changed his clothes in three days. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Dick looked away, tears blurring his vision. He had lost two brothers, and the pain never got any easier with each death he encountered. His parents, Donna, Jason… Tim. And the thing was, it was his fault. His brothers never would’ve died if Dick never had become Robin, had created that cursed legacy.

He distantly remembered pacing at Titans Tower in anticipation for Tim’s return, the emergency beacon from the ship alerting the League as it flew in range of the watchtower. He remembered the doors opening, Kon, Cassie, and Bart stepping out, their gazes distant. He remembered the sinking feeling in his gut as he watched their composure crumble when has asked where Tim was. He didn’t remember much after, only Wally pulling him up off his knees from where he had sunk to the ground in realisation and guiding him away from the hanger.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Tim said again, his voice more distant than before. There was knock on the door and Tim disappeared as Dick looked over and saw Bruce hesitantly standing in the doorway. He looked horrible, the bags underneath his eyes having only worsened over the months since Tim’s death.

Barbara and he had ensured Tim’s requests in the video letters were followed through, “please be there for each other, don’t let my death be what breaks you,”. Dick had moved back into the manor, the words always playing in the back of his mind in each interaction he had with Bruce. Every time he felt the rage burn beneath his skin, he would remember that Tim wouldn’t want this. Would want them to be there for each other. He just let it out in other ways, and if the criminal underworld became more fearful of Nightwing than that wasn’t his problem.

“He looks happy in that one,” Bruce nodded towards the photo in Dick’s hand, interrupting Dick’s spiralling thoughts. “I’m headed out for patrol,”

The invitation for Dick to join went unsaid. He couldn’t help but notice how much their relationship had improved in the wake of Tim’s death, using each other as a crutch to get through their grief. Unlike last time. He hated himself for it, that it took Tim being ripped away from them to get to this point.

Dick nodded, not trusting his voice to break if he opened his mouth. Bruce hummed in acknowledgement; before glancing away and shifting his feet, he opened his mouth but ultimately decided against whatever he had wanted to say as he hesitantly walked away.

Dick returned his gaze to the photo, his thumb brushing over Tim’s frozen form. God, what he would do to get him back. He gently laid the picture on top of Tim’s other photos, his smiling face disappearing as he softly closed the lid.

Tim’s room remained a memoir to who he was. His skateboards collected dust in the corner of the room, his clothes were still strewn in a heap on the chair beside the bed and his desk was still covered in unfinished homework and case files that he definitely was not supposed to have up here. Dick smiled at the thought of Tim sneaking them up from the Batcave without alerting Bruce or Alfred. Although he was quite sure Alfred was aware. Not much went by in Wayne Manor without him knowing.

Dick cast one last glance around the room before closing the door behind him and making his way downstairs to the Batcave. He had always known the Manor to be quiet, but as he walked through the hallways to the study, he couldn’t help but feel the silence that echoed with each step he took. The faint laughter that had once filled these walls now leaving a void Dick tried his best to ignore.

He remembered from when he first lost his parents, he had asked Bruce if it ever stopped hurting. His answer still lingered in the back of his mind — “Grief is like a ball in a box with a button for pain, initially the ball is large, causing constant pain by hitting the button, but over time, it shrinks and the button still hurts when the ball hits it, but it becomes easier to manage with time.”. Dick didn’t understand it at first but eventually he did, losing his parents still hurt but it became easier with time. Now, he felt the constant pressure of the button, losing too much too soon. Yes, some days were easier than others, but most weren’t.  

“Dick?” Dick looked up at the voice and realised he was standing at the bottom of the stairs at the Batcave, not having even noticed that he had already made his way there. Cass was already suited up, her new uniform having red highlights to honour Tim. She looked at him for only a moment before he was enveloped in a tight hug, her arms wrapping themselves around his midriff. His arms automatically went to return the hug as he lay his cheek against the top of her head, relaxing into the hold.

“Not a good day?” She asked, her voice muffled by his chest even though he knew she already knew the answer. Dick shook his head, tears flowing freely now as they slowly dripped into her hair.

“No,” He sighed as she tightened the hug. “I miss him,”

“We all do,” She pulled away with a soft smile before making her way back over to where Bruce sat at the Batcomputer with his cowl down. Mindlessly, Dick found himself in locker room suiting up. The fabric suddenly feeling too tight against his skin, the mask, a heavy weight in his hands.

What about him meant that he got to survive while others didn’t? Dick tightened his grasp around the mask. It really wasn’t a good day, seeing Jason at Tim’s grave had only worsened the wave of grief already brewing from when he had woken up from a nightmare where he was too late. He was always too late. Having Jason back didn’t even lessen the inner turmoil and guilt he faced; he was alive but estranged and Dick didn’t know how to fix it. He felt helpless and hated himself for it.

“The Falcones are making a move tonight by the docks,” Bruce’s voice carried throughout the cavern, interrupting his thoughts, “Cass, your reports suggest an increased number in men as opposed to the usual amount, so I’m thinking that we’ll need the three of us just to minimise injury and ensure we put a stop to it.”

“With this amount of men, it probably won’t be drugs, it’s something new,” Dick piped in, grateful for a moment of distraction as he made his way over to where the others had gathered. Cass nodded in agreement.

“I concluded the same,” Bruce said, “We’ll pull early patrol routes until eleven than make our way over to the docks. That gives us enough time to scope out the place before the Falcones arrive,”

Dick hummed in confirmation, placing the mask over his eyes and begin the walk over to his bike.

“Stay safe,” Dick turned around at Bruce’s voice, the silent desperation to return home left unsaid.

“Yeah, you too”

—

Dick silently sat on top of a low rooftop overlooking the Docks. Batman’s silent demeanour next to him with Cass overlooking another rooftop. Dick looked through the infrared binoculars again as a black car with tinted windows pulled up to the third pier.

“Nightwing, come from the east, Blackbat, west,” Batman grunted before pulling out his grapple and flying into the darkness. Dick promptly followed, hearing the mechanical whir and click as his grapple connected with a nearby building. Dick leaped from his perch but as suddenly as he had begun to fly a golden pillar of light exploded out of a nearby warehouse. The shockwaves pushed him back, his grip loosening for a moment as the momentum in his swing faltered. The air around him crackling with energy. Dick gritted his teeth as he fought to regain control, he quickly released the grapple and fired again, scrambling to pull himself up to another rooftop.

Looking back, the pillar of light reached far into the sky, swirling dangerously into the dark clouds above Gotham harbour as it illuminated the dock in a bright unnatural glow. The warehouse from where it had seemingly formed in was left in burning debris, the pieces stretching across the dockyards a few hundred metres away. Panic began to swirl in his chest at the thought the others were injured by the blast of energy. He couldn’t lose anyone else, he wouldn’t survive it.

“Nightwing, Blackbat, report,” Dick hurriedly raised a hand to his com as Cass promptly responded to Bruce’s voice.

Relief washed over him, a silent prayer leaving his lips in thanks to whatever cruel god decided to take mercy today. Dick released a breath he hadn’t been aware he had been holding and responded. “I’m okay, faltered mid swing but regained control without hassle,”

He stared at the pillar and continued, “What is that?”

“Unsure, remain vigilant, the Falcones are leaving,”

Sure enough, the black car he had seen roll into the dock yard before, was hastily driving back into the city, it’s tires leaving dark track marks against the gravel pavement in its rush.

“I’m going to investigate,” Dick unhooked his grapple and began the descent towards the pillar without waiting for an affirmation— Batman’s protests going deaf in his ear as he quickly muted his comms, not needing the incessant worrying as a distraction.

He landed before what used to be the warehouse, the pillar of light, a looming figure in the centre of the debris. He felt the energy in the air pulse as he cautiously walked forward. He had never seen anything like it. The light blurred at the edges, melting into the air as a strong hum of energy echoed around him.

A soft thud behind alerted him to Batman’s arrival. He ignored the presence in favour of looking at the pillar, he could vaguely see a dark shape moving in the centre, the lines of its figure blurring with the bright light. What was that?

As he took another hesitant step closer, he watched as if in slow motion as the pillar pulsed dangerously before emitting a strong shockwave that threw him, a loud blast echoing in ears. He landed hard, his back taking the brunt of the impact as the air forcefully knocked out of him.

He gasped, trying the fill his lungs with air. What was he thinking? That was so reckless and stupid. He should have waited, maybe for the JL to be notified or something, he wasn’t sure. He was only human after all. No invulnerable skin to save him if he fucked up.

He glanced up just in time to see the pillar of golden light disappear into the night, leaving no trace as to its presence. It left the dockyard coated in a layer of thick darkness; the energy having fried the local electrical circuitry. Dick blinked a few times beneath the mask, his eyes adjusting to the lack of light before him. He groaned as he rolled himself onto all fours on the harsh pavement.

He hesitantly glanced over his shoulder to where the pillar of light had been, his breath catching in his throat as his mind cleared. A gauntleted hand hoisted him up, words were being spoken but his ears were stilling ringing as his head swum.

All Dick could think was that even though it was blindingly bright, he could’ve sworn he saw a figure in the light.

Chapter Text

Tim was beginning to resent whoever invented this mode of transportation— these doorways or whatever they were called— were starting to make his head spin. The world around him blurred for the third time, golden light bleeding through each swirl of colour as the green hedges and packed dirt dissolved into the nothingness.

For a moment, he felt himself floating as the last of his body crossed the threshold. Unnatural weightlessness consumed him. It wasn’t like the fleeting rush of adrenaline he would get when he completed the arc of a grapple swing before he dropped and swung again. This… this was as if he was being compressed from all sides and expanding at the same time, like his body was being pulled together and apart all at once. It wasn’t painful, just wildly uncomfortable and confusing. It was as if the whole concept of up was down and left was right.

He vaguely noted that this process was different than before, more drawn out and not as immediate as when he had first entered the trials or even when he appeared at the diner. The pressing matter, however, was that the comforting pressure around his ribs from where Jason had been supporting him had disappeared. The secure presence of the other Robin melted away, along with the last traces of the first trial.

Tim whipped his head around, trying to calm the swelling panic that had begun crawling up his throat at the thought of already breaking his promise to bring Jason home.

Suddenly, Tim jerked back, unsuccessfully recoiling as the world around him began to fracture like ice cracking beneath his feet in a Gotham winter. Jagged lines of light crawled around him as flashes of images began to swirl into a chaos of colours. Glimpses flickered before him, wisps of colour forming a fleeting window into the world back home. Dick lying down flowers at a grave, a young boy with bright green eyes walking alone through the hallways of the manor, Kon lying down on his bed in Titans Tower, an African American teenager sipping tea with Alfred. Steph, Cass, Bart, Cassie. Smiling, crying, quiet, laughing. Moments in time, he didn’t recognise.

Was this real? His heart ached at the sight of it all. People he recognised and those he didn’t, living life in his absence. Those he would never see again or even get the chance to meet. Tim vaguely felt a tear run down his face; he wasn’t going home. The reality of it all finally setting in.

Tim then felt his breath catch in his throat as he caught sight of Bruce. A sob threatened to escape as he watched the older man sit idly in the recognisable study of the manor, paperwork scattered haphazardly on the wooden panelling of his desk. Bruce rubbed his fingers against his temple, leaning back against the chair— the usual tells of his frustration. He looked tired, Tim noted, the bags beneath his eyes a dark contrast to his paler complexion. Tim recalled diligently completing his homework on the couch of the same study as Bruce worked alongside him. Recalled Bruce’s hand fondly ruffling his hair and remembered the gentle smiles thrown his way. He would never get that again.

As quickly as it appeared, the image of his father mentor began to melt away into the light. Tim frantically reached out his hand towards the vision in panic, desperate for it to not disappear. He cried out for Bruce, the words burning in his mouth as the final wisps of the image blurred away, leaving Tim all alone once more.

Around him, the fractures began to close in onto themselves, the cracks within the colours reversing— pulling the light along with them until those same colours bled out once more and began to form dark, distant shapes that blurred at the edges. The scent of damp earth and stagnant water filtered around him, heavy and distant.

Tim felt the weightlessness suddenly wash away, replaced by the feeling of dread as he began to fall, his consciousness gradually slipping away. The edges of his vision darkened with each passing moment before he fell into the nothingness, the echo of Bruce’s name, a ghost on his lips.

—

The first thing Tim noticed as he began to become aware of the world around him was the cold, wet surface against his cheek. He hazily blinked his eyes open, quietly absorbing his surroundings in caution of the unknown environment he was now in. His eyes roamed, taking in the shadows around him as they folded into the crevices of the cave walls— as if hiding from the deep blue glow that dimly lit the cavern. Tim strained his ears but could only vaguely hear the constant drip of liquid against stone— and the quiet breathing of someone else nearby.

Tim tensed, slowly reaching for where his bo staff should be, only to find it missing. He must’ve left it in the last trial, stupid. He silently cursed himself, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration and took a deep breath before he pushed himself up and moved into a defensive position facing the threat, preparing himself for the worst. The person he could hear breathing nearby had mirrored his actions at the sound of Tim scuffling against the stone beneath his feet.

Jason.

“Kid?” Jason asked, his voice hoarse as they both dropped their guards. Tim sagged in relief, grateful for both the familiar face and the fact that he could still keep his promise. He gave a silent thank you to whatever or whoever was listening in. The emotional toll of the one-sided reunion a few moments before had really gotten underneath his skin. “You alright?”

“I’m okay,” Tim nods. “I think,”

Jason looks Tim over scrutinisingly before his eyes widen in realisation. “You’re okay...”

“Uh yeah?” Tim scrunches his face in confusion; that’s what he had just said? He gave Jason a once over, scanning for any injuries. “Did you hit your head?”

“No, dipshit.” Jason rolled his eyes and pointed exaggeratedly towards Tim’s leg. “Your calf, it’s healed.”

Tim glanced down towards his calf, his eyes widening in surprise. The blood that coated his leg had disappeared, revealing clean, unscarred skin where the gaping hole in his leg had been.

“What…” Tim mumbled, reaching out and running a hand over the smooth skin of his calf. That shouldn’t have been possible. Yet, here he was, no longer bleeding out.

“Damn, this place is a real fuck show, huh?” Jason laughed lightly, running a hand through his dark hair. He sighed, “Alright, we shouldn’t stick around, I don’t think whatever we are meant to encounter in this trial is gonna be here.”

Tim nodded mutely, still staring at his healed calf. Jason had accurately described it; this place was a fuck show, and the sooner he could ensure Jason’s journey home, the sooner he could finally rest.

“So, what do I call you?” Jason asked, throwing the question over his shoulder as he turned and walked away, Tim glanced up and quickly scrambled after him. Hesitant to not only be left alone again but also lose Jason.

“Tim,” He replied as he slowed down and matched pace. Jason smiled across at him,

“Tim,” he said, rolling the name in his mouth. He turned back, facing the dark cavernous tunnel in front of him. “I’m Jason.”

Tim hummed thoughtfully in lieu of a response. What was he supposed to say to that? That he knew that already? That he was carrying on the Robin legacy in his absence? “Yeah, I know your name already because you’re the dead son of my mentor/sorta father figure! I also happen to be Robin, by the way.” Yeah, good going, Tim; that would be a great conversation. Especially because he didn’t know how Jason would react to that sort of news so soon after dying in those same colours.

Tim didn’t go into anything without knowing the possibilities if he could help it; he liked having the contingencies that he could create in response to any situation he encountered. And Jason? Jason was a wildcard that he had only heard of in stories told to him with a forlorn look and had seen with the occasional momentary glance.

So, yeah, it would be best to keep that information to himself for the moment. It wasn’t relevant, and not divulging it meant the best possible chance for Jason to get home to Bruce.

“Timothy,”

Tim’s hair stood on end at the sudden voice hissing in his ear. His steps faltered as he whipped his head around but was only greeted by the dull emptiness of the cavern walls as his train of thought derailed. He felt a shiver run up his spine and shuddered, rolling his shoulders to try and shake the feeling of being watched before giving the area behind him one last glance over and matching his pace with Jason’s once more.  

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Tim murmured, not glancing across at the boy as he scanned the cave ahead instead. Maybe he had imagined it. “It’s probably nothing.”

Jason nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing sceptically as Tim cleared his throat and looked back, “I think we should move faster, though, I don’t have a good feeling about this place,”

Jason hesitated. He opened his mouth as if wanting to say something but snapped it shut, ultimately deciding against whatever it was.  

“Okay, yeah,” he comments after a long pause. Jason fell quiet and centred his gaze ahead, offering the occasional glance sideways towards Tim. The two settled into a suffocating silence as they walked through the cavern, their steps filling that void as it echoed against the stone walls surrounding them.

Despite his efforts to be hyperaware of his environment, Tim felt himself relaxing into the repetitive movements of each stride forward. His guard slowly dropped when they didn’t encounter anything except the wet stone walls and dull blue light emanating from some unknown source.

However, he still made an effort to focus on the unsettling feeling stewing in his gut, focusing on the way the base of his neck prickled in wary anticipation ever since he had heard his name hissed into his ear.

Whatever they were walking into, whatever was in this upcoming trial. He couldn’t help but think that not only was he walking in blind, but he was also walking into something he was woefully underprepared for. He shook his head. Bruce had prepared him for such situations; he had been a part of missions that had been way above his pay level and had scathed out the other side; he had saved the world on multiple occasions — he would pull through, no matter what. If anything, he would make sure Jason got through.

 “Holy shit,” Jason suddenly said, his voice coming out half a whisper. Tim glanced over; his eyebrows scrunched in alarm at the sudden noise in the silence. But Jason paid him no mind as he looked ahead, mouth slightly parted in awe. Tim followed his gaze and subconsciously mirrored his reaction at the sight before him.

The stone walls and ceiling ahead seamlessly transitioned into what he assumed to be water. The blue light was brighter here, pulsing from deep within the walls. He noted that the liquid itself didn’t fall but was rather held in place by some invisible force, defying gravity— it reminded him of the gentle expanse of a lake, the water untouched on a calm summer day. He watched silent ripples echo across the surface, and he could belatedly consider its likage to the tunnels in the Gotham Aquarium, but it held a certain kind of beauty he had never encountered before.

“Woah,” Tim said softly. He walked closer to the wall and ran a hand over the surface, the water parting beneath his fingertips.

“Holy shit,” Jason repeated from beside him as he copied the actions.

Tim’s hand lingered, transfixed across the surface; the water began to crawl up his arm, the liquid enveloping his skin in a thin layer and gently tugging him closer. He felt himself craving the water, the calming ripples beckoning him to enter. He knew that if he walked into the water, everything would be okay. No more worry, no more hardships, just peace. A sweet honey of temptation thickened in his throat at the thought.

As the water climbed higher up his arm, a quiet but alarmed voice in the back of his mind told him to rip his arm away, to get as far as possible from the water. To be fair, he would’ve dismissed it if that same voice hadn’t saved his life numerous times in the past. Suddenly gaining more awareness, Tim yanked his hand back in newfound panic and the water that had clung to his skin dispersed onto the stone floor with a splash. Thank fuck for Bat paranoia.

Tim turned to Jason, who stood transfixed beside him and firmly yanked him back from the wall of water. “Don’t touch it!”

The other boy stumbled, blinking rapidly as the water dispersed in a similar fashion onto the ground.

“Shit,” Jason mumbled, subconsciously rubbing his arm where the liquid had clung to before he suddenly whipped his head up. Tim opened his mouth, a question dangling at the tip of his tongue, but he stopped short as the same voice from before hissed in his ear again. “Timothy”

This time, however, he recognised the voice. Tim felt his breath hitch as he turned back towards the water, coming face to face with his dead father. “Son,”

“Dad?” His father stood before him behind a wall of water, looking just as he remembered him. From the slightly greying hair to the dimple on the left side of his cheek that Tim had inherited, it was all the same. Tim turned his face away at the first prickle of tears; it was Jack before Tim had gotten him murdered. Whatever was controlling this place, using the person he failed to test him, tauntingly dangling the final conversation in front of him that he never got to have. Never got to say goodbye. But he knew deep down that it wasn’t Jack; it wasn’t his father, no matter how much he wanted it to be.

“Son, look at me,” his father said softly, “It’s okay,”

“You’re not real,” Tim said, more of a reminder to himself than anything else. He scrunched his eyes shut, “You’re not real,”

“I am real, son, please look at me,” Jack pleaded, “What happened wasn’t your fault,”

Tim slowly turned to face the imposter wearing his father’s face and shook his head. “You’re not him, he’s dead,”

“I’m right here, Timothy,”

His father opened his arms invitingly, just like he used to when Tim was young, just like he used to before his mother died and before he was Robin. Tim’s heart ached at the memory, and he felt a tear slowly run down his cheek at the temptation to run into his father’s arms. Reminiscent of a time when everything felt possible, a simpler time when he didn’t have the weight of the world and all this responsibility on his shoulders. Tim felt his arm grow cold and glanced down, his movements feeling sluggish all of a sudden as water began to climb across his skin. When did he touch the water? When did he get so close?

Tim looked back up, his father smiled down at him; his hand clasped in Tim’s, gently pulling him in, a familiar weight he had craved for so many months after his father’s death. Tim felt himself relax into the hold; would it be so bad to hug his father one last time?

Wait, his father’s death. He was dead. His father was dead. This wasn’t him. Tim felt the panic rise again as he wrestled his arm back from the imposter. The grip around his hand tightened to a painful degree; he knew that any tighter his bones would be crushed, and his hand would become useless. Tim twisted his arm the way Bruce had shown him once before and felt the hold suddenly come loose. He quickly yanked his arm back out of the water once more and felt the splash of the liquid against his legs as it hit the floor. His father scowled down at him, his face morphing inhumanly for a momentary second, causing Tim to step back in fear as the figure dissolved into the blue light.  

Jason. His mind fell back to the other Robin. He whipped his head around just in time to see Jason struggling to yank his arm out of the water only a few feet away. A blonde woman he didn’t recognise held onto Jason’s hand. Tim hurriedly wrapped his hands around Jason’s arm and pulled with all his strength, dislodging the figure’s hold on the other boy.

The pair stumbled back before collapsing together on the ground as the figure vanished in a similar fashion to the way his “father” had.  Tim looked at Jason, who was breathing hard, only to notice the tear marks on the other boy’s face. Jason seemed to know what Tim was looking at and quickly wiped away the evidence with the base of his palms.

“I couldn’t save her in time,” Jason said distantly after a few moments, his voice breaking as he avoided Tim’s gaze, “I tried, I tried so hard.”

Tim didn’t reply immediately, simply placing a hand on Jason’s. He knew the feeling all too well, especially having just been confronted with it moments ago. One of his greatest regrets in the form of his father’s death, murdered because of him.  

“I couldn’t save him, either.” Tim finally said, his voice soft, his eyes trained on the ground, “I was too late,”

Jason hummed, his eyes unfocused as if his mind was distancing itself from the present. Tim understood the reaction; he had felt it himself months prior when he would think of his dad. From the way Jason disassociated, he knew that it must’ve been a similar situation and most likely recent, not having had the chance to grieve what happened properly. He didn’t know all the details of Jason’s life and what occurred in the final few months of his tenure as Robin, the file being locked under multiple firewalls, but from context he could assume that that woman must’ve been his mother.

Another voice suddenly echoed out around them, an eery melody ringing throughout the cavern, and Tim’s heart plummeted. He knew that voice, dreaded it every Arkham breakout. He felt Jason freeze next to him, the other boy’s muscles locking as he tensed in recognition of the voice.

“I picked poor Robin clean, picked poor Robin clean,”

Tim knelt up, looking around for the source of the voice, but it appeared to be coming from all directions, the sound disorientating and warped as it carried through the air. His gaze finally landed on Jason, whose chest was heaving hard as the boy repeatedly sucked in too much air. Tim didn’t hesitate; he grabbed Jason’s hand and forced it flat over his own chest. He heaved slow breaths, trying to get the other Robin to follow. He might’ve said something, but he felt himself slowly give way to panic again, his sole focus on helping Jason.

“Jason, breathe,” Tim finally heard himself say. “Follow my breaths,”

“I picked his head; I picked his feet,”

A horrifying laugh echoed out, surrounding the pair as the song continued, and Jason suddenly stopped breathing. He wasn’t responding to Tim’s efforts, and at this rate, he would pass out and would be open to any danger that came for them.

“Jason, please,” Tim pleaded, moving his hands over Jason’s ears, trying to block out the sound for the other boy. “Jason, breathe!”

He vaguely knew that this wasn’t the proper way to help someone through a panic attack; he, of course, had had the training, but all that information felt far away at the current moment. Tim was on his last legs, was on the verge of panicking himself, but was grounding himself in the promise to ensure Jason made it home.

“I woulda picked his body, but it wasn't fit to eat,”

“Robin!” Tim yelled over the song, and Jason’s gaze snapped to him. The boy gasped, air flooding his lungs as he finally breathed.

“Robin,” Tim repeated, relief lacing his voice. “It’s not real,”

“Wha—" Jason said, his voice coming out hoarse. The boy swivelled his head, his eyes darting around, analysing the environment. “He—"

“He’s not here, it’s not real,” Tim said desperately. “Stay with me, please,”

“You called me Robin,” Jason murmured, turning his head back so he could look at Tim directly, “You called me Robin,”

Before Tim could reply, another round of laughter rang out, harsher and clearer than the first round that had occurred moments prior. Tim flinched in response as Jason tensed again, the other boy’s eyes snapping forward. Tim followed his gaze, his breath hitching as his eyes landed upon tangled bright green hair framing a milky white face and blood-red smile.

“Two little birdies, so far from the nest,” The Joker taunted, and Tim felt Jason’s eyes flick towards him momentarily, but Tim purposely kept his gaze forward, focusing on the figure in the water. “No Batsy here to save you,”

The Joker paused and hollowly laughed as he seemingly considered the two Robins in front of him. Tim found himself wrapping his fingers around a dislodged rock beside him. “Not that Batsy saved you when you really nee…”

“Shut up!” Tim interrupted, anger and frustration boiling over as he stood up and threw the rock towards the figure in the water. The liquid rippled as the rock disappeared, but The Joker remained unfazed, his eyes now locked upon Tim with an amused expression.

“Such bad manners,” The Joker tutted, shaking his head mockingly. “The first boy wonder would never!”

“I think he told you to shut the fuck up,” Jason said, his eyes narrowed as he stood on shaky legs, joining Tim’s side. The Joker merely smiled wider, his eyes darkening inhumanly. Prominent black veins began to sprout around his eyes, and both boys stepped back. The Joker back home would be dangerous and unpredictable. The Joker standing in front of them, Tim concluded, was worse, way worse.

A laugh echoed once more as the horrifying figure in the water reached out an arm, its hand passing through the invisible barrier as it stepped closer. Both boys stood frozen in horror as the water parted around The Joker; its body flickered to a familiar sight as it stepped through onto the solid ground, the same terrifying smile foreign upon Bruce’s face.

“Boys,” the thing said, its voice suddenly distorted as it smiled impossibly wider; its face flickered back to The Joker momentarily before returning to the sight of their father. Around them, hands began to reach out, parting the water as they stepped through the veil. Tim saw his father again, black veins sprouting around his eyes. He saw the woman who had almost pulled Jason in. He saw Steph, Kon, Dick, people he recognised and people he didn’t, but judging by Jason’s sharp intake of breath beside him, they were people that the other boy recognised instead. They kept filtering out of the liquid, their inhumanly black eyes locked upon the two Robins.

“Run,” Jason whipped his head around to face Tim whilst simultaneously latching onto his upper arm. He pulled harshly as he took off, Tim following without hesitation. “Fucking run!”

Chapter Text

Jason dropped his grip around Tim’s arm as the fall of heavy footsteps behind them echoed across the cavern walls. A harrowing swell of panic fed the pace of Tim’s own feet as he pushed his body to run faster. The looming threat of another painful death echoing around his brain, the thought only serving as another motivator to not let those horrifying things behind him reach them.

“Through here!” Jason called back, turning to race down a tunnel that had branched off the central cavern system. Tim’s feet skidded slightly on the damp surface as he changed directions and ran after Jason. Their footfalls echoing louder throughout the narrower tunnel.

Tim breathed heavily as he noted the soreness that rippled through each muscle as he moved. The blue light that had been emanating from the cavern walls slowly dimmed as they ran further away from the main tunnel. He squinted into the darkness ahead, scanning the environment for potential dangers—shit.

Tim’s eyes widened as he suddenly noticed the floor ahead drop off into nothing. The path they were on—ending abruptly before continuing on across the dark chasm before them. Definitely too far to jump. Shit.

“Shit,” Jason mumbled through rugged breaths, unknowingly echoing Tim’s silent sentiment as they both rushed forward, desperate to rid themselves of their pursuers. The walls around them stretched wider as they ran, and Tim caught sight of a roped bridge a few feet away that connected the two paths.

“Over there!” He called out, grabbing onto the boy in front and yanking him towards the bridge. Jason stumbled a little as he moved to follow, hesitating slightly before his expression steeled over when he caught sight of what Tim had noticed.

Tim looked back as they ran, only to feel his chest tighten at the sight of the things chasing after them. The uncanny view of whatever was wearing Bruce’s face at the front of the pack had him turning back, blinking the forming tears from his eyes as he pushed further to reach the bridge and get to safety.

Jason did not hesitate in crossing, but the bridge creaked under his weight as soon as he stepped onto the old wooden panelling. Tim saw the brief set of panic as realisation set behind Jason’s eyes when the other boy looked back towards him, and he felt the rise of disappointment bubble in his throat. Fuck, the wooden panelling of the bridge was only going to support one of them.

“Go, I won’t be far behind,” Tim said, taking a step back as Jason nodded and rushed forward. Tim glanced down at the rope wrapped around the wooden stakes connecting the bridge, and a plan quickly formed in his mind. A really stupid plan. Tim smiled to himself despite the urgency of the current situation; well… it was a way out.

“Jason, hold tight!” Tim called out, grabbing onto a section of the rope with both hands, and watched as Jason immediately latched on as well.

Glancing back towards the things chasing after them, Tim didn’t hesitate in kicking out one of the wooden stakes. He faintly heard a yelp behind him as one side of the bridge collapsed, but ignored it in favour of kicking out the other stake just as one of the things wearing Bruce’s face reached out to grab him. Tim immediately jumped into the chasm after the bridge, tightening his grip on the rope as he narrowly avoided being caught. He grimaced at the feeling of a sharp, claw-like nail that dug into his side as he moved. The warm sensation of the blood was a momentary distraction against the burning sensation in his palms from the rope as he slid slightly through the fall.

Tim braced himself, squeezing his eyes shut as the other wall of the chasm drew closer, breathing heavily as adrenaline pumped through his veins in anticipation of the inevitable hit he knew was coming.

“Fuck!” A voice called from above as Tim braced himself for the incoming impact. His body harshly bounced against the stone wall as the bridge swung from the stakes embedded into the stone high above.

Tim groaned in pain as he slowly stilled, his knuckles now white as he clung on despite the pain.

“Fuck’s sake, give a guy more warning next time,” A voice called out through laboured breaths. Tim squinted up towards the direction it came from and let out a breath of relief to see Jason already climbing up the wooden panelling. He was okay.

Tim breathed in deeply, ignoring the stabbing pain in his shoulder and abdomen. Thankfully, he had had enough forethought to try to protect his head before he crashed, so he wasn’t too dizzy or in danger of a brain bleed.

“Tim!” Jason called out again, his voice fuzzy in Tim’s head. Shit, maybe he did hit his head. “You gotta move,”

Tim looked up again and saw that Jason had made it to the platform. How long had he been hanging here for Jason to move that quickly?

“Tim?” Jason’s face blurred in and out of focus, his voice a little muffled. “Can you climb?”

Tim nodded before wincing slightly at the movement. Okay, moving wasn’t a great plan. “I think so…” He finally said, his voice breathy from exhaustion. He tried to climb but realised that he had probably dislocated his shoulder when his arm refused to move, his other hand keeping it somewhat in place. Jason seemed to sense his hesitation and only hummed in response, before disappearing above.

Tim looked over to where he had kicked out the stakes connecting the bridge and saw that the platform was empty, that the things chasing after them had disappeared. He felt a sudden rush of relief flood through him once more. They made it, they got away.

“Can you hold on? I’ll try and pull you up,” Jason said a moment later, his head popping back over the edge. Tim heard movement above, the scuffling of feet against stone, before he was abruptly yanked upwards. Tim winced, breathing hard when his shoulder flared in pain as he was raised towards the platform where Jason stood.

Moments later, he felt a hand wrap around his uninjured arm and pull him onto the platform. Tim realised that he must’ve made some noise in response to the pain as he heard the hurried apologies coming from Jason as the other boy placed him down away from the edge.

“I’m okay,” Tim managed after a moment, closing his eyes.

“Bullshit,”  

Tim only hummed in response. He felt like laughing at the absurdity of it all. He was here next to Jason, running away from supernatural beings wearing the faces of people they cared about — but hey! At least they had gotten away. He flopped his head to the side, not having the energy for any controlled movement and saw the concern scrunched into Jason’s face.

“I’m okay,” he repeated, ignoring the twinge of pain in his shoulder as he spoke, “I’ve had worse, I just need to set it.”

Jason pursed his lips as Tim sat up clutching his arm, and before Tim could say anything, Jason’s hands gripped his arm hard and set his shoulder for him. Tim cried out from the sudden sharp sensation that seared its way through his muscles and skin before dissipating into a dull ache.

“What the actual hell, dude?” Tim groaned, his breath laboured as he cradled his shoulder, rolling it slightly.

“You’re welcome,” Jason said blandly.

“You could’ve warned me,”

“It works better this way,” Jason knelt back onto his calves, “I dislocated my shoulder before from a shitty grapple swing as Robin,”

Tim stilled, the implication in his tone evident as he turned to face him, Jason’s face unreadable.

“But I bet, that you know all about me as Robin, don’t you?”

“Jason—”

“You were the Robin after me,” Jason continued conclusively, standing up, “I mean, I don’t know who you are, but when I met you, you seemed to recognise me. You even called me Robin and after what…”

Jason hesitated, his eyes growing distant for a moment before his hard analytical gaze returned to Tim. “the Joker, said, ‘two little birdiess’—”

“I—”

“Bruce also stepped out of the mirror,” Jason cut Tim off, “and added with the fact that he looked pretty much the exact same as when I died, as to when I’m assuming you knew him, it seems pretty conclusive to me. So, how long was it until he stuffed you into the uniform of a dead boy?”

Tim warily stood up, holding a hand out placatingly, creating distance as Jason stepped forward into his space.

“Did he even care I was gone? Cause from the looks of it, he didn’t even wait until my body had cooled to go and get himself another son,”

“I’m not—”

“You’ve got a Bristol accent, meaning you ain’t from the city. So, what’s your tragic story to becoming Robin? Mummy and Daddy gave you too much on the credit ca—”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Tim hissed stepping forward as he tilted his head up slightly to match Jason’s hard gaze, the warning clear in his tone, “You have no right to talk about them.”

“Touchy subject, huh?” Jason’s eyes narrowed, amused but bitter.

“Are you serious right now?” Tim snapped, stepping back like the words had burned him, “You have no fucking clue what it was like after you died. Bruce was going to kill himself because you died, if I hadn’t of stepped in…”

Jason opened his mouth as if to say something, but Tim continued before he could speak.

“So don’t you dare, think, for one moment that he didn’t care. You were everything to him, you were his son, it was never like that for me. He lost a part of himself because you died. I saw everything, he was putting more criminals in the ICU, they were holding on by a thread at times. I can’t even begin to count how much first aid I administered because he went overboard in his grief. He needed Robin, he needed you,” Tim finished, the anger simmering under his skin.

“But I wasn’t his son. I wasn’t you, I couldn’t be,” Tim stepped back and looked away. “Gotham was losing trust in Batman, people were scared, and they needed hope. You might’ve died but Robin couldn’t. Robin couldn’t die or people would get hurt,”

Tim let the silence sit after he finished speaking, his voice trailing off at the end. He placed a hand over his shoulder, wincing slightly at the pressure.

“I didn’t mean…” Jason began after a few moments, breaking the silence as his gaze fell upon the floor.

Tim sighed, running a hand through his hair. He hesitated momentarily before he spoke, “Robin is… was everything to me. Being able to help people, save lives, make a difference — not just in Gotham but wherever I went. It’s all I could’ve wanted. I died, yes, and yes it feels unfair that I don’t get to grow old, or...”

Tim paused, cutting himself off as his mind flashed with images of himself at the skatepark or arcade with his friends, of spending time with Bruce and Dick, of making his own moniker and maybe even passing down Robin to some kid in a few years. He continued, “I was good; my friends survived because of my sacrifice. They get to live their lives, grow old— Robin gave me something to live for, and it was also something I was willing to die for. Being Robin was the light in the darkness… it was—”

“It was magic…”

“What?”

“Robin is magic,” Jason shook his head, his voice edged with sadness as he slowly sat back down, “I know, I get it. It was like that for me too, I guess, all I wanted was to be the hope for those people that were left in the dark, those who were overlooked in the same way I was and Bruce… Bruce gave me an opportunity to be that hope.”

Tim settled next to Jason on the ground, the pair falling into a comforting silence as the tension and hostilities washed away. The quiet settled over them like the heavy weight of a blanket.

Jason stared off into the distance, his eyes not focusing on anything in particular. Tim noticed the slight tension in his jaw as the other boy ground his teeth.

If Tim was being honest with himself, Jason wasn’t what he expected. Tim had always fought so hard to live up to the mantle that was once Jason’s, to live up to that legacy. Jason was always a far-off idea, a cautionary tale, yet was always spoken of with admiration and love. Something he realised too late that he desperately wanted. But sitting here next to him? The other Robin wasn’t a concept only spoken in hushed whispers and careful words; he was real, tangible.

Tim sighed. He wanted to go home; he wanted to go back in time, even just for a moment. He closed his eyes, memories once more flashing before him, and he indulged himself just once, what would happen if he made it back. But I made a promise, Tim reminded himself. I need to get Jason home.

He turned to look back at Jason, whose jaw was still tense, and he knew by the vulnerability in Jason’s gaze that he was trapped in the weight of whatever he wasn’t saying.

“I made up a fake uncle so Bruce wouldn’t adopt me,” Tim said, wincing even as the words left his mouth, but at least he had successfully broken the silence and pulled Jason from his thoughts.

Jason startled at the noise and looked over at him, his face scrunched in confusion. “What?”

“I was on my own a lot. My dad, we weren’t close, but he was a good man, he was um… murdered only pretty recently for me, I—” Tim choked on his words, stealing his emotional walls as they threatened to collapse. He cleared his throat, “Anyway, I didn’t want Bruce to adopt me out of obligation, cause if I ended up in foster care, I couldn’t be Robin and I wanted to be.... So, I made up a fake uncle who was my guardian,”

Jason stared at him in bewilderment before barking a laugh. “Wow, dude, I don’t even know how to respond to that. That’s actually wild. I know Bruce is emotionally constipated but I think you might have him beat.”

“Hey!”

“I’m sorry, they way you speak about him. I know for sure he already sees you as a son. It wouldn’t have been an obligation, you know? Bruce wouldn’t do that. He may be tall, dark and broody most of the time, but he loves fiercely and only a select few ever get to experience that.”

“You sound like you stole that from a book,” Tim observed, hiding behind a smirk that distracted him from the weird feelings in his chest brought forward by Jason’s words.

“Hey! I just read a lot,” Jason said, standing up, “I’m serious though, he definitely saw you as his son already, which in way…  kind of makes us like brothers.”

“Yeah, I guess it does,”

“So, are we brothers gonna stick together through this shitshow?” Jason reached out a hand to help Tim up.

“Absolutely,” Tim clasped his hand in Jason’s, using him as leverage in heaving himself up.

Chapter Text

7 months after Tim died:

The wall collapses around Kon, rubble and stone raining down upon him as he hits the ground hard. He inwardly groaned. Metallo just had to go and make his already shitty day worse.

Kon cursed beneath his breath as he heaved himself up to stand. Debris and dust clung to his attire as he heaved a section of the wall out of his way.

 “You think I’m stupid kid?” A voice roared in the distance, “I’ve done my homework! You’d think after last time, you’d be smarter than to try the same tricks on me, you won’t touch me this time,”

Clark wouldn’t need help in taking down this fuckhead, so why was he struggling so much? The thought left a sour taste in his mouth as he launched into the air once more towards Metallo. Since last seeing him moments ago, Metallo had managed to grow larger in that short period of time. Having absorbed some of the metal in the surrounding warehouses on the outskirts of Metropolis.

“Do you ever shut up?” Kon gritted out, as he dodged away from a wayward metal arm, “Or do you just like the sound of your voice too much?”

Metallo ignored the taunt in favour of absorbing the crate of weapons Kon had somehow missed. Shit.

Clark just had to be in space right now, didn’t he?

“You really are just a cheap copy of the original.” Laughter rang in Kon’s ears as Metallo turned towards him. The weapons he had absorbed fused into his arm, forging a deadly shape as he took aim at Superboy. “You think you can take me all by yourself?”

Kon’s eyes widened momentarily before he dived out of the way of an array of projectiles that followed him through the air. He flew behind one of the warehouses as the weapons stopped firing.

Kon clenched his eyes shut, breathing heavily as he tried to ignore the growing panic filling his chest. He cursed himself; now wasn’t the time for another panic attack. He had just been cleared for fieldwork, so all he needed was to control his mind, to be better, to be stronger. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be back. But now that he was here, he couldn’t let his stupid head and feelings get in the way of protecting the innocent that would surely die if Kon didn’t succeed.

Clark had entrusted him to keep Metropolis safe while he was away. He couldn’t let him down, especially now that their relationship was actually in a good place. Well, as good as it could get considering how it started.

Kon let out a shaky breath, feeling the panic subside. Stronger… Better. He reminded himself.  

Kon suddenly became all too aware of the silence around him. He quietly reprimanded himself for lingering too long as he froze, his body instinctively tensing, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“There you are…” Metallo growled in his ear. Kon didn’t have time to react as in the next instant metal enveloped him, flipping him upside down and hoisting him skyward.

“You are such a disappointment,” Metallo continues, “Honestly, I shouldn’t have expected much, considering you’re just a knockoff of the real deal,”

Kon gritted his teeth in lieu of answering. Subtly using his TTK to unravel the metal around him before electricity suddenly coursed through his veins.

“Nice try,” Metallo grinned, “Last time I did that, you had a shadow with you. Robin? Wasn’t it? Where’s he now?”

Kon’s breath caught in his throat at the mention of Tim. His mind was fuzzy from the electrocution as he recalled the moment they first met, fighting Metallo together.

--

Kon ripped himself away from the tangled wires, trying to catch his breath. He looked up as Tim swung up from the rubble of the abandoned shopping centre on the outskirts of Gotham.

“Hey Metallo!” Tim yelled out, “In all your studying, didn’t you learn never to ignore a low flying Robin? Who knows when one might drop on you!”

Robin used one hand to release some sort of thick foaming spray from a gadget Kon assumed came from his belt. “Of course, in most cases it’s not fire-suppressant foam, but—”

“Argh! My eyes!” Metallo yelled, rearing back, slightly off balance. And that was all Kon needed as he launched towards the supervillain. “Don’t worry metalhead! Wonder Boy distracted you long enough to give me another chance! And what I’m going to do to you…”

Kon placed a hand on Metallo’s chest,”…you gotta see to believe!”

Kon let his TTK ripple across the metal, taking apart Metallo from the inside out.

--

Kon blinked a couple of times as a red and blue blur came into sight over Metallo’s shoulder, approaching at high speeds. He smiled, wincing slightly at the sight of his reflection in the metal, where blood coated his mouth. He realised he must’ve bitten his tongue when he got electrocuted in Metallo’s energy attack. 

“Sorry Metallo,” Kon began, his smile spreading, “I love chatting with you, but it looks like someone wants to cut in,”

“Wha—”

In a flash of red, Kon felt himself drop as the arm holding him was severed. He used his TTK to unwrap the metal around him as Supergirl caught him before he hit the ground. She levelled him a glare that promised a conversation later before flying back and engaging in a fight with Metallo. Kon inwardly groaned; he was dreading that conversation.

He rolled his shoulders and shook his head before launching back into the air. Metallo had turned his focus to the larger threat; jokes on him, Kon was still a threat.

“Don’t worry Metalhead,” Kon said, the words leaving a bittersweet aftertaste in his mouth. “Supergirl distracted you long enough to give me another chance…”

He placed his hand on Metallo’s back, letting his TTK take apart Metallo’s body in quick succession.

“You gotta see to believe…” Kon muttered as Metallo’s head detached from his metal body, rising before being snatched up by Kara.

--

“Looks like it worked, Superboy. Thanks,” Tim said, turning around to face Kon, who softly landed on the rooftop beside the boy wonder, “This’ll make it easier for, um… for everyone.”

“No, problem Robin,” Kon smiled at Tim, “I gotta say, I’m glad you were here, wonder boy—or I might’ve still been under Ivy’s green thumb. Like Tana says, women are my Kryptonite,”

“Speaking of Kryptonite—”

“Oh, yeah. The ring. I was kinda hopin I could keep it…”

“Where? In shoebox under your bed? Get re— Watch Out! It’s Metallo back for the Kryptonite!”

Kon whirled around and chucked Tim the encased Kryptonite ring, “Hold the stone, wonder, I’ll… What’s the deal? Metallo’s not… Hey!”

Kon turned back to Robin, who looked up at him with a smirk, the encased ring nowhere in sight.

“Don’t worry about the ring. There isn’t a safer place in the world than the Batcave,” Tim said, turning around and stepping up onto the ledge of the building.

“The Batcave? Where’s that? That your hideout? Y’know I’d kill to see that place!”

Tim pulled out his grapple and stepped off the ledge, falling into his swing, “Well, we don’t exactly give guided tours…But yeah, I’ll show you around. Just look me up next time you’re in Gotham City, Superboy.”

Kon smiled as he flew next to the swinging boy wonder, “Count on it, wonder! You haven’t seen the last of me! Wait! I don’t know how to get in touch with you…”

Kon turned his head to see the empty space where he thought Robin had been, “Robin?”

Kon swivelled around searching for the other boy before shaking his head fondly and flying off, having realised he wouldn’t be able to find Tim. Unbeknownst to Kon, that wouldn’t be the last time Robin would pull the disappearing act on him.

--

“...Hey! Kon, Kon!” A voice pulled Kon from his thoughts, as he blinked hazily up at a blurred figure in front of him. Their hands were gripping his jacket as they gently shook him.

“Wha?” He mumbled intelligently as he sat up and Kara came into focus.

“What were you thinking!?” Kara said through gritted teeth, clutching his jacket like a lifeline as she pulled him onto his feet, “You are so lucky I came when I did,”

“Sorry?” Kon said, a bit confused, still blinking back to reality

“You passed out after exhausting yourself with your powers. Again, what were you thinking!?”

“I’m fine,” he replied defensively with more venom in his tone than intended. He grabbed her wrists and pried them off his leather jacket before pushing her away.

“Yeah, because I was here,” She flew in front of him, blocking off his path when he turned away from her, “That was reckless of you,”

“Yeah, because you wouldn’t know anything about being reckless, would you?” He muttered beneath his breath, dragging a hand down his face and wincing slightly as he caught sight of Kara’s hardening gaze.

“This. Is not about me.”

“Just go away. Don’t pretend you care, you never did before,”

“Conner…” Kara’s voice softened. She stepped forward and placed a hand on Kon’s shoulder, but he shrugged her off and stepped back, creating distance.

“No! Stop doing that, Clark’s not here, you don’t have to do all…” He ran a hand through his hair, motioning with the other in a wide arc, “…this. I had it handled.”

She scoffed, folding her arms, not saying anything. Kon looked away, feeling the uncomfortable silence settle between them.

“Just leave me be,” he said after a moment, voice cracking on the last word of his sentence.

“Conner…” She muttered as she trailed a hand over her face, repeating Kon’s earlier actions whilst she stumbled to find the right words. “Ugh, I am so not good this…”

She trailed off momentarily before placing her hands upon his shoulders and looking intently into his eyes. “Look, I know it’s been hard… and trust me I probably understand more than anyone. Yes, we had a rocky start but trust me when I say that we care about you, not because Clark told us to or whatever idiotic idea you’ve come up with in that brain of yours, but because we genuinely care. Kon, I trust you—”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Kon..”

“He was in my head Kara! You shouldn’t trust me, I’m a ticking time bomb,”

“You’ve been cleared by both Manhunter and Raven,”

“You don’t know what it was like, god. I had just lost Tim because of my inaction, and then Luthor almost made me kill the rest of the people I love. If I wasn’t good enough to save my bestfriend, how will I ever be good enough to stop myself from hurting anyone else or even saving them when it comes down to it?”

“Kon, I trust you to do good and be good, because that’s what you are. You aren’t defined by your genetics, no one is. You have done so much for this world already, you just need to take a step back and see it,”

Kon raised his eyebrows in surprise, his mouth parting slightly as he thought of a reply. Her sincerity throwing him off balance since their relationship had always been rocky at best. He closed his mouth when he failed to find the words and settled into the heavy silence now growing between them once more. Kara’s gaze tracked over his face before she sighed and turned away.

“How about you head home,” She said resignedly, “I’ll handle clean up.”

She floated off the ground, ready to fly, before she paused and turned back around, “Oh, and Kon?”

“Yeah?” He hated how vulnerable his voice sounded.

“Happy Birthday.” She smiled sadly before taking off, presumably to start the clean-up. Kon smiled bittersweetly at the empty space for a moment before he took off back to the farm, feeling fragile in all the wrong ways.

--

Kon took a sip of the soda in his cup, letting the fizzy mixture melt onto his tongue for a moment before he swallowed.

The faint thump of music played from the farmhouse, the words of a cheesy chart topper barely audible. It was the kind of music Kon had heard countless times in the halls of Titan’s Tower, always louder the closer he would get to Bart’s room.

He swirled the liquid in his cup, watching it splash against the plastic. He hated the way his friends and family stared at him like some broken toy. Despite their kind words and birthday wishes, he felt their pitying gazes the moment he turned his head, their judgement unspoken in the silence between their words. He put up with it as he knew the effort Ma and Pa had made in organising all of this to make him feel better, but at a certain point, he couldn’t take any more, especially after today’s events.

His first time back in the field after being mind-controlled didn’t go as well as he wanted it to. Having had his body used and violated as he attacked his teammates relentlessly, only being able to watch on as his powers were used to hurt and maim what was left of his family, of the people he loved. He had almost lost someone else because of his own actions, because despite what everyone had said, it was his fault for not checking sooner, for suggesting the mission Tim had died on, for not doing enough. Not being enough.

Cassie and Bart understood more than most, how losing Tim felt like losing a part of themselves that could never be replaced. It wasn’t just losing a teammate. Tim was so much more, had so much potential, more than any of them. He could’ve done or become anything, but he had left them behind to save their lives. Gave them a second chance when they got in over their heads. And Kon did not think he deserved it, especially after what had gone down since. He had let down Robin’s memory by failing.  

He distantly remembered the first night they had spent at the Tower after joining the Titans. Kon had been unsurprised to find Tim curled up with his laptop downstairs in the Tower at 3am. They hadn’t spoken since Young Justice disbanded, and the tension was thick in the air; their conversation had already fallen into a heavy silence after a few words. For Kon, it had felt weird joining the Titans. After everything they went through in Young Justice, the distant reason they never originally joined the Titans sat hollowly in the back of his mind. Of them wanting to put their own names out into the world unaffiliated with whoever came before them, of their actions, both good and bad, a reflection of them alone. Not someone else.

--

Kon nodded, “It’s like everyone’s trying to shove the entire weight of the world on our shoulders,”

“We’re going to bear it sooner of later anyway. I guess that’s what we’re here for,” Tim huffed and stood up, gently placing his laptop on the table before starting towards the stairs.  

“I don’t know…” Kon began, running a hand through his curls, “None of us came to this Tower because our mentor’s told us to. We came here because we’re friends, right...? You gotta give me a reason to stick around, Robin.”

“Friends,” Tim smiled and looked back over his shoulder, “You’re smarter than you look,”

“I know,” Kon smiled back. Tim opened his mouth to reply, but snapped it shut at the sound of a notification on his laptop.

“An email… weird,” Tim’s mouth formed a thin line after he opened the screen away from Kon.

“What?”

“Subject says ‘With Superboy?’ from Snapdragon,”

‘Who’s that?” Kon walked behind Tim to see the message. It was all the information on his genetic structure; his vision blurred at the next line. He already knew that he was a clone of Clark, but the other name that also made up his DNA blinked menacingly back at him.

Lex Luthor.

--

If Tim were still here, would anything have gone differently? He probably would be whacking him upside the head and telling him off for sulking, saying he deserved to be back out there. Kon huffed an exasperated laugh at the mental image of Tim telling him off… what he would give to be able to be yelled at by him once more.

When they had first gotten the email, he had thought it was some cruel prank, and he had told Tim as such, as well as not to tell anyone. Kon forgot about it all when everything went to shit, Tim died, and through ignoring it in his grief, he then almost killed everyone he loved. He left the team pretty much immediately after that, despite some of their protests, not trusting himself or his judgement anymore. He couldn’t lose anyone else; it would break him, especially if the reason they died was because of his actions or lack thereof.

The moment of watching the planet explode through the windows of their ship flashed before his eyes. The helplessness and fear that had coursed through his veins as Tim’s last words echoed in his mind… he never wanted to relive any of that.

Kon hadn’t set foot in the field since then, or at least until the last few days, when Clark gave him the opportunity to integrate back into the swing of things and get his feet under himself once more. He was kind of resistant at first, but with their relationship having only just improved since everything went down, he didn’t want to disappoint him by not saying yes.

If he was being honest, he had thought that he had come to terms with being Kal’s clone and was used to the weight of the crest he wore on his jacket and bodysuit. Used to what he represented when he went out in the colours painted across his chest. But since this morning, all he had done was prove how much of a failure and risk he was in the field after needing to be rescued because he froze. Putting civilians in danger in the process.

His fight with Metallo from earlier in the day replayed in his head, over and over again. And through it all, a small part of him couldn’t help but agree with Metallo. Cause in his own perspective, he really was a “cheap copy of the original”, and “a disappointment”.

Kon shook his head and sighed, bringing his knees closer to his chest, the soda spilling a little over the sides as he wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin upon them. He felt so utterly useless; he was supposed to be celebrating with his friends tonight, yet here he was hiding out on the roof of the barn, avoiding everyone.

“Are you gonna keep sulking or come join the party?” A voice called out below, distracting Kon from his thoughts as he glanced down over the edge of the roof. Cassie stood below with her hands on her hips and a raised eyebrow.

“Did you find him?” Bart blurred into existence beside her, the smell of burnt rubber suddenly permeating the air around them.

“What would Max say about you burning through another pair of sneakers?” Kon called out half-jokingly, not able to hide the fragility in his voice. Bart’s head snapped to where he was with a wide smile.

“Dude! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” In a blur of speed, Bart was sitting next to Kon, now with a plate of food in his hands, happily munching away. Cassie huffed a laugh at Bart before flying up, settling down on Kon’s other side.

Kon took another sip of his drink, not trusting his voice. No one spoke, the silence settling between them like a comforting blanket. He missed this, being with Cassie and Bart, where there were no expectations, no feeling like he had to fill the space. It was easy. They had gone through so much together, they knew each other like the back of their hands. And Kon couldn’t help the smile that softly spread across his face as Cassie and Bart leaned into him.

“We’ve missed you,” Cassie began, breaking the silence as she looked out across the dark paddock, her face illuminated by the moonlight. “The Titans aren’t the same without you,”

“Cassie…” Kon said tiredly, not wanting to get into it again.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder.

“So… how is the Titans? What’s been going on?”

“We’ve been investigating these anomalies that have been popping up since around a month ago,” Bart cut in, “Get this, huge beams of light that shoot into the sky from seemingly nowhere! Cool right?”

“They’ve been popping up everywhere. It started in Gotham, then San Francisco, Smallville, Metropolis, Keystone, New York, I think there have been a few more but I’m not sure. Wait, there was one in Paris a day or so ago, but it disappeared before anyone really got there.” Cassie added.

“Ih’s really sthumped the Jushtice eague,” Bart continued around a mouthful of food.

Kon laughed, nudging Bart with his shoulder, “Dude, swallow first.”

“My bad, what I said was that it has really stumped the Justice League, they’ve called in pretty much everyone to find out what it is, but no one has any idea,”

“We’ve basically been on clean up duty the entire time, which sucks not gonna lie,” Cassie said, shaking her head, “They disappear too fast for us to actually do anything, but they destroy whatever space they were occupying, so once it has vanished, the League wants us to collect and analyse the residuals of the anomaly and send it to them before cleaning up and ensuring the space is safe for civilians.”

“I hate doing what the league tells us to do…” Bart mumbled,

“No, you just hate doing what Wally tells you to do,” Cassie amended, reaching around Kon and punching Bart in the arm, who only stuck his tongue out at her.

“He can seriously fuck off,” Bart said as he turned his gaze over the paddock, placing the plate of food down next to him. “Like, he barely acknowledges me aside from when he fixed my wacko aging and then he dumps me with Max. Did you know he even told Max – not me – that I shouldn’t be joining the Titans, that he didn’t believe in me? Like, what is his problem?!”

Bart finished his rant with a groan, burying his head in his hands as Kon placed a hand on Bart’s shoulder in assurance. The younger boy looked up at him with a half-smile in response.

“We don’t have to prove anything to them – to our mentors or… anyone else. We don’t need anyone else but us. We help people, we save lives, we do crazy shit and get in trouble. And we have each other to lean back on when things get tough,” Kon paused, his voice merely a whisper as he continued, “We’ll always have each other,”

“You sound just like him,” Cassie said with a sad smile. After a few moments, she sighed dejectedly before continuing. “I really miss him,”

“Yeah,” Bart agreed softly. Silence blanketed the trio once more, all three caught in their memories of another.

“It feels wrong celebrating my birthday without him here,” Kon said after a moment, “How is it fair that I get to age and he doesn’t?”

“It’s not, but because of him, we’re here. We get to grow up, get to see the sunrise each morning, we get to go home to our families. He…” Cassie broke off into a sob as she brought her knees up to her chest.

“He would’ve loved investigating the anomalies,” Bart said.

Kon couldn’t help but agree. Tim had always loved investigating a good mystery. Kon couldn’t count how many times he found Tim hunched over his laptop in the early hours of the morning, knuckles deep in some case he was investigating. When they were investigating a case together, Tim would always animatedly explain his theories and thought processes, and Kon would just sit back with a smile at his best friend. Tim would be chewing him out if he knew that Kon was moping around like this.

“Maybe I could help?” Kon asked, his mouth moving faster than his brain. Both Cassie and Bart swivelled their heads towards him in surprise, and Kon silently panicked for a moment. What was he doing? There’s a reason he has stayed away this long. “I mean, I could help on the small things if it gets too much for you guys. You don’t…”

Kon’s mind flashed back to the fear and anxiety of watching himself hurt his friends, “Sorry, you don’t—”

Cassie placed a comforting hand on his arm as Kon broke off, “We would love your help,”

“Young Just Us forever, baby!” Bart exclaimed with a wild smile, throwing himself over Kon. Kon hugged back, ignoring the wet trail that began to trail down his cheeks.

Cassie squeezed his arm and stood up, “Alright, let’s get back inside, they’re probably more worried now that they can’t find all three of us,”

She brushed off her pants and floated up in the air.

“I’ll race you!” Bart vanished as soon as the words left his mouth. Cassie let out an indignant “hey” before chasing after him.

“Yeah,” Kon smiled, getting up, “Young Just Us forever…”