Chapter Text
Another day, another would-be villain that should have resigned from her post-doctoral position before they ended up brandishing a ray gun and shouting grievances for everyone to hear. This time, a woman with some sort of energy weapon took over the stage at the side of a pizza restaurant's outdoor seating. The people at the tables are Gothamites to the core so they stay put with their pizza instead of running from the very upset woman with a probably ray gun.
Tim isn't sure what sets this woman apart from the many post-docs who don't snap and try out supervillainy. Most of her tirade is about spending her time on unrelated grant applications and an unsupportive advisor and inadequate time on the university's only supercomputer and how she could prove her theory given a chance. None of the complaints are outlandish or uncommon. Any of the issues she details at length make her eligible for a Wayne Foundation grant that would cover the costs of transferring to a different post-doctoral program. She could have left the entire public rant as a voice mail and ended up with a sympathetic call back instead of a police report.
The would-be villain is alone on the outdoor stage. The hired jazz band had fled with their instruments and gear in hand before Tim could make it across town. The restaurant's speakers project her demands clearly enough that he could hear her from the rooftop as he checks the scene to make sure that he can approach without creating a hostage situation.
Handling civilians is a lot easier in other cities. In Gotham, the remaining diners do not look ready to move. They're not sure if they feel threatened by a woman in off-the-shelf black coveralls wearing an large battery rig as a backpack whether or not she's carrying a ray gun held together with electrical tape and zip-ties. They'd drop their slice of pizza and run if it was the Joker or Two-Face. They'd saunter off still carrying their drinks for someone like the Riddler that didn't usually involve civilians. For a unknown woman who is yelling about wasting the best years of her life rather than threatening the next apocalypse or anyone eating pizza, he can understand why they'd want to keep their patio seat and stay with their meal. He'd be a lot happier to not have so many civilians within her line of sight.
She doesn't react when he slowly drops down from the rooftop with a grappling line. She goes right back to her rant when she realizes that he isn't planning to unplug the speakers or interfere with the microphone. That gives him time to start trying to persuade the civilians to get out. Most are more interested in trying to get a good close-up photo instead of getting to safety.
The woman hasn't spouted off a chosen pseudonym or introduced herself but her face is uncovered. Oracle takes less than two minutes to find the woman's doctoral thesis and postdoctoral work based on facial recognition. Getting in touch with the Flash takes even less time. Flash says that Dr. Parker Belemay is possibly serious when she says that she's invented a time travel device.
Tim listens to the chatter between Oracle and the Flash while he keeps encouraging people to put down their calzone and go home. His best guess is that she tried to create a closed time loop rather than one-way time travel. Oracle seems completely convinced and doesn't say much, maybe because it's the Flash explaining time travel and how Dr. Belemay's work is on the right track, maybe because Oracle is busy doing something else while she listens.
The sixth time Tim addresses the entire group of diners, they freeze. Seconds later, they clear out all at once, most of them leaving to-go cups behind and scrambling for the patio's gate. Tim wishes he was surprised when he hears a familiar distorted voice behind him.
“Red Robin. Heard you had a situation.”
Red Hood is a lot more intimidating than Red Robin. Even if Hood's been protecting people since his return to Gotham a few months back, there are a lot of stories about just what Red Hood had been up to a couple years ago. If he tells civilians to get out, they leave.
“Thanks, Hood,” Tim says quietly. He keeps his eyes on Belemay. The woman looks mildly annoyed with the loss of her audience but doesn't change her grip on the weapon or aim it at any of the rapidly-fleeing people. “Nobody was clearing out when it was just me.”
“You've got manners and they had pizza.” Red Hood's voice is muffled. He's not using the vocal masking, for once, maybe so that he can speak quietly enough for the woman to not overhear him. “I'll let you talk her down now that the civilians are out of here. I'll be on the rooftop.”
Hood leaves before Tim can think of anything to say to him. It's probably for the best.
It's easier to deal with Jason when they're both wearing masks. Jason is nothing like Tim's hazy memories surrounding the bad fight against Red Hood in Titans Tower. Jason is thoughtful and deliberate and hasn't said much to Tim since coming back to Gotham. Jason isn't killing anymore, they think, but if anyone's asked him no one has shared Jason's answer. Bruce hasn't said much but Tim thinks that his dad is still trying to figure out what to ask. Dick and Cass and Steph have nudged Tim a little about his feelings and he still isn't sure what to think. They all accept that Tim needs more time to figure out what to make of Jason. It's a little easier when he hardly ever sees Jason outside of the occasional teamup on patrol.
Red Hood is much easier to deal with when he offers help on a case. It doesn't happen often but Jason doesn't push and doesn't take over the shared case. Red Robin has no reason to have an especially close relationship with Red Hood, after all, and there's almost always an audience in Gotham. They finish the stakeout or the fight or the evidence drop and Tim leaves. It's less awkward that way. If Tim tries to talk to Jason, Jason usually makes an excuse before vanishing and Tim doesn't know if preemptively saying he isn't upset about Titans Tower would help. Maybe occasionally seeing each other on patrol is all Jason wants.
Tim approaches the dark-haired woman cautiously. She hasn't seemed interested in engaging with him but she's huddled in on herself with the roughly-made ray gun clutched to her chest. She looks a lot like someone who abruptly realized that she was publicly monologuing at length into a microphone after scaring off a jazz quartet.
“Dr. Belemay?”
She slowly looks up from the ray gun. “Red... Robin?” He can only describe the expression on her face as lost. She looks like she doesn't know how she got to the pizza place or to putting together an energy weapon. “I'm not from Gotham. I never thought I'd need to be able to tell you guys apart, but it is Red Robin, right?
“That's me.” Tim's voice is quiet. He doesn't need to be loud on the evacuated street. He just needs to try getting the ray gun away from her. “You're Dr. Parker Belemay. You haven't hurt anybody and the worst thing in the works is maybe an anger management course or two.”
Dr. Belemay's hands tighten on the ray gun. The strips of black tape dent beneath her grip. “That just means I go back to people saying I'm crazy.” She clutches the gun closer and her lips tighten. “I guess I'm making a stellar effort of proving that I'm sane.”
Tim shrugs. “You're talking to a guy in a cape.”
Dr. Belemay looks at his cape before looking back down at her ray gun. Her hand is already resting on one of the large switches. Tim wouldn't tackle her even if her hands were clear of the possible trigger. She's wound up tight and clinging to that plastic and tape construction like it's the only thing keeping her sane. She might be one of the people that faces down a breaking point and comes through stronger.
“I guess I am,” she says. “I don't pay too much attention. I... I just wanted to prove it, you know? I think I could, if they'd let me try.”
“If you want to talk about it...” Tim nods to one of the empty tables. “I'd actually love to hear about what you put together. If you want someone with more than a vague appreciation for time travel and how it works, I have a friend that would love to say more, but any of the speedsters would love to talk this through with you. I can get someone from the Justice League on speakerphone if you say the word.”
Dr. Belemay doesn't move closer to the table. She doesn't back away, either. “My advisor says that superspeed cannot possibly work as they describe it. He refused to send a message to the Justice League liaison and said he'd pull support for my grant if I went behind his back to ask. I just.... I just need to prove it works. I've wasted two years of my life if I'm wrong.”
“If you're wrong, you've still got some good ideas. The Flash already read a draft of your thesis and he would love the chance to talk through your thinking and give you some advice.”
Her mouth drops open. Unfortunately, her arms drop, too. The ray gun topples to the ground.
Tim's fast but he left several paces between them to make sure that she didn't feel threatened. He's never going to be faster than light. A blue-white beam of light shoots out of the gun as it bounces off the ground. The light hits him square in the chest.
Tim braces himself but nothing happens. He stays right where he is and the ray gun doesn't fire a second time. Whatever the Flash thought would happen... “Accidental weapon discharge. Repeat, accidental,” he says firmly, looking right at Dr. Belemay's distraught face. The sudden joy had vanished right into paralyzing anxiety and he wasn't going to let anyone think she'd done that on purpose. He should have asked her to set the weapon down before saying anything.
“Accidental weapon discharge confirmed,” Oracle says. “Given the nature of the weapon... Flash is on standby, B will deal.”
Tim taps his wrist in acknowledgment. He doesn't want to start a full conversation when the woman in front of him is still wide-eyed and nervous. “Dr. Belemay, if you could set the battery pack down, please?”
She swallows and straightens her shoulders. “I'm so sorry.” Her hands are steady as she unbuckles the strap holding the battery pack in place, eases it off her shoulders, and sets it on the ground. “I can turn it off, if that would help, not that it helps much. I'm sorry.”
“We can just leave it as it is,” Tim says. When he takes a step back, she moves away from the ray gun. “It was an accident. As soon as we're ready, the Flash is going to swing by to pick that up. Anyone that works out time travel technology gets on their radar sooner or later and he's excited to have a new theory to look over.”
“I... I'm ready.” Dr. Belemay tugs at the collar of her cover-alls. “This is not the way I wanted to meet anyone but waiting any longer will just make me more nervous.”
“We're ready for company,” Tim murmurs into his comm. Seconds later, Flash appears. Seconds after that, Tim is pretty sure that his presence isn't needed. Physics was never his favorite topic and it didn't take them long past hellos to get way past what he understands in mostly-theoretical physics. She's talking almost as quickly as Flash.
Tim waves. Dr. Belemay doesn't seem to notice. Flash turns long enough to wink and wave him off.
Tim heads over to an alley. “Can you let me know what happens with her, O?”
“Of course,” Oracle says. The comms sound a lot quieter without Flash. “If you try to patrol on your own, I'll ping everybody to come and tell you in detail why it's a terrible idea. You'd be right there in the line lecturing anybody else that tried to walk that off. She studies time travel.”
Tim looks up at the roof. He can't see anything but Jason has always kept his word to Tim. He has from the very first time Tim met him back at Titans Tower. That was years ago, though, and Jason hasn't tried to hurt him again.
Jason's been trying to reach out lately. Maybe Tim can try the same.
“Red Hood wanted a word. If he isn't staying in the area, I'll let you know.”
Red Hood is waiting on Tim's favorite rooftop and he isn't wearing his helmet or body armor. Jason has a red domino mask with no lenses and he's looking at a bulky watch on his wrist. For once, it's easy to tell that his shoulders are tense. His body armor and helmet are neatly stacked at the corner of the rooftop.
“I'm okay,” Tim says. He's touched that Jason cares enough to be nervous. Maybe Jason will stop avoiding the Manor when Tim's around if he can persuade his technically-brother that Tim doesn't mind sharing Bruce's attention. “Nothing happened.”
“Not yet.” Jason looks up from his watch. “One of her calculations was off so the effect isn't instant. The rest of her math checks out. Welcome to a time loop, population you in t-minus about three minutes.”
Maybe Tim should have tried harder to spend more time with Jason. He has no idea if Jason's being serious or if he's pulling Tim's leg. “A time loop?”
“You're making a trip back to Titans Tower right in the middle of that time I broke in to hurt you,” Jason says bluntly. “I'm sorry that past-me is an asshole. Was an asshole? Time travel is a nightmare for verb tenses. No pressure, Tim, but I remember this loop. If it goes the way it did for me, you kicked my ass and got my head on straight. You're the reason I ended up back in Gotham a few months ago ready to play along with the other Bats.”
Tim has been friends with a speedster for years. He knows the basics and knows to never offer to help with the math behind how time travel might work. “You remember this so it's possibly a closed loop.”
“Probably, yes. I'm pretty sure you switch places with your younger self, body and mind. From what I've been able to figure out, not that I could push too hard for the answer, past-you ended up here and thought that I was a dream or a hallucination. The version of you that traveled back in time said not to give you any more warning than this.”
Tim glances down at his own costume. He doesn't have time to cope with thinking about the haziest dream he's ever had was real. He'd thought that it was convenient for him to think the unrecognizable gold symbol in his dream was the same as Red Robin's. He'd thought that all of those vague ideas and promises to talk about his feelings for once had come from him, not from Jason, but he doesn't regret any of those suggestions.
Tim pulls a medical kit out of one of the bandolier pouches. It's a zipped black canvas compression cube that feels more solid in his memories the second that he holds it in his hands. “Here. I remember this, I think, and you're right. I thought I was dreaming.”
Jason's bare hands are steady when he takes the kit. “It's not unreasonable. You were in shock.” Jason pulls uncomfortably at the sleeve of his long-sleeved shirt. “I ditched my gear because I didn't want to scare your younger self.”
“I don't think you did.” Tim takes a deep breath. “Okay. What time was it when you checked your watch?”
Jason rolls his eyes. He's smiling, though, which takes out any of the sting. “Past you said this so many times – 9:54 PM on June 4th, two years after Titans Tower. That's when I checked my watch and started telling you all this. Well. Past-you for me, future-you from your perspective.”
“9:54 PM, June 4th in two years,” Tim repeats. He can do this. He can vanish into one of his own nightmares and ignore all his past failures at changing lucid dreams for the better.
When he thinks about dreams, though... Tim has the time. He has to have time if Jason needs to hear this. “For what it's worth... it was like the best dream I've ever had, and even when I couldn't remember the words, I knew you meant what you said. You convinced me that Bruce loved me and I didn't have to go live with my dad and that you and Damian would come around someday. No pressure.”
“No pressure, sure,” Jason agrees. “Flash and company did know about her research. They would have approached her, grumpy advisor or not, but I clued them in on the time loop so they kept their distance. They said interfering would have been more dangerous and agreed to not give anybody else warning. Including B, but I'll take the heat for that. Oracle's known for about ten minutes because I do not want to have her mad at me again. Good luck, Red.”
With anyone else, Tim would normally joke about breaking a leg, but Jason had nearly broken his arm a couple years ago. They haven't really talked to each other outside of patrol and Tim doesn't want to make things awkward right before going back in time. Next time, maybe the joke won't feel like a test for both of them.
“Same to you,” Tim says instead. He unclips his bo staff from his belt and braces himself. He hasn't time-traveled before. If this goes well, he isn't looking forward to all the questions about just how this feels and a detailed breakdown of how everything went. If it doesn't go well, at least Flash is already on the case.
There's no time for more questions. The world vanishes in a flash of white light that looks blue when he tries to blink away the sudden brilliance. He opens his eyes standing in Titans Tower, bo staff in his hand, and heavy footsteps slowly moving toward the dead end where he hadn't managed to make it through a fire door. His younger self hadn't known that it was locked shut with a code that he wouldn't be able to override.
Tim smiles. Younger Jason is about to have an unexpected rematch.