Chapter Text
There was nothing more that Tim wanted more than to burn the fucking place straight to the ground.
But he couldn’t. He had a time limit and a clear aim. He already spent too long sorting things over with local Bruce and the Justice League.
With these thoughts, he silently walked down the base of this world’s Court of Owls, observing. Searching. Looking for someone special.
A hooded figure found him instead. The alarm rings, calling forward all the creeppers of the place.
Tim smirks as magic crackles under his fingers.
Well. He tried to not intervene. Not his fault the idiots didn’t know any better.
***
Tim had fucked his timing. Now the others will notice.
It didn’t matter, though. This was more important.
The place came silent, adorned by a blood bath massacre. Not a living soul here anymore. Perhaps, he had miscalculated. Perhaps, the one he came for was on a mission. He would have to find him, then.
A tiny step at the entrance. The walk was silent. The person did not breathe, that heart did not beat. But that perfect protection did not matter for the magic that told Tim about anything that would breach the place, so Tim stood up and went to meet someone whose fate he would hopefully change.
Crawling in the shadows, there he was, tiny golden eyes nervously taking in the bloodshed, yet the shaking body still treading to the epicenter of the disaster.
The boy looks about nine years old, tired and scared. If it was a mission, it was his first one, and Tim could tell from over here that it wasn’t the success the owls asked of him. That Dick Grayson, any Dick Grayson, wasn’t one to give up his humanity that easily. The boy was preparing to be punished and tortured, preferring that to performing his duty as a heartless killing machine.
The little talon froze in his steps. It looked like he finally noticed the gauntly looking man.
Tim couldn’t stop staring at the boy. Pale, thin, basically pocket-sized. With features on the young face so familiar that it tore his chest apart.
God, he missed his Dick.
“I… I came back. I failed,” stuttered the little voice.
Oh. That’s right. The boy did not know much about the Court system. He probably assumed Tim was his superior.
That thought tasted like bile.
Tim shook his head and beckoned the kid, slowly. “Hey there, little guy. Can you come closer?”
Even with the effort of the people around him, Tim still struggled with people things, so he could only hope that he appeared kind and gentle, like his Dick once did, all those years ago.
Little Dick was shaking badly, looking at the older’s skin.
Oh. Tim probably should have dealt with the blood on him. Too late now.
Tim was surprised when the kid, uncertainly, still came to him, his golden eyes big as sockets. Tim tried to smile, “Hi there.”
The kid did not talk.
Tim was at a loss. He was failing at this, whatever this contact was, badly. Although he may have had an idea. There was a thing all Grayson’s loved. Tim hoped it would work.
“Can I touch you?”
There was no response. But no protests either.
Taking this as a ‘yes’, Tim gentle wrapped his bony hands over the kid. Bitten down fingers gently petting familiar raven hair.
Firstly, the boy was rigid in his arms. But rather soon, the body relaxed. Then started shaking again, yet differently from before. Tim felt the coat on his shoulder getting soaked through.
“Shh,” tried Tim awkwardly. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you. It’s gonna be okay.”
Tim gathered the tiny body and stood up, walking confidently out of the god forsaken shit hole. The kid didn’t even stir, his clawed hands in a death grip on Tm’s lapels.
Outside breathed winter air, and the boy trembled. Tim shushed him and covered them both with a heating spell.
The walk took some time, but Tim didn’t dare to teleport in the foreign universe with a traumatised kid on his hands. Slowly, the boy calmed down, even if remained quiet and withdrawn, clutching desperately at the only adult that wasn’t cruel to him ever since his painful transformation. Tim wished he could have prevented this from the start, but he was only human. Doing what he did now was already pushing the laws of the universe and tempers of many of the heroes’ league.
But he couldn’t do nothing. Just this once, he chose to be selfish.
Finally, they were here.
Noting that the moving stopped, the kid peeked out only to hide his face back in the comfort of the coat’s darkness.
“Hey,” gently called Tim, not understanding what was wrong.
“Is this going to be my new Court?” rasped the kid with his first words to him.
Tim darted a quick look at the ancient and spooky looking Wayne Mansion. Yeah, he could see where such assumption could come from. He hurried to reassure, “No, you are going to stay here, but it’s going to be okay. Nobody will ever hurt you anymore. There are good people there. I swear.”
“Will I be a tool for them then?”
“No! Never!” he said too heatedly, the kid shrinking at the loud words. Tim had a thought that he might have been even worse at the kid talking thing than his Bruce, which was a rather impressive achievement, to be honest. He fidgeted uncomfortably until he slowly lowered them both on the little welcome rug in front of the door. He said then, gentler, “Never.”
The wind was roaring outside his bubble of warmth, snow evaporating before it could fall on the boy. Tim still remembered how his Dick had hated being cold.
“It’s going to be okay,” tries Tim again. “There is a man here, he is a good man and a doctor. He is kind, and he helps people. He will love you.”
“I’m not people, I’m a monster. Why are you helping me? Monsters should stay dead so they don’t hurt anybody.” a wet whisper on Tim’s chest made Tim want to go back and murder the court all over again, this time – slowly. It all reminded too much of his past. Damn all the Graysons for their stupid, selfless heart.
Tim took a calming breath that Jason taught him. “I’m helping you because I know for a fact that you are a person, a really good one that does deserve happiness, and will have it. It will be okay.”
Tim felt like a broken tape, repeating these words over and over again, but he really did lose all his silver tongue skills in the ages he lived with the only company of stupid magic books.
The door opened with a creek, startling the talon.
“Hello. Are you young Dick I was told about?”
Tim raised his eyes to this world’s Bruce. He was younger than any version of the man he knew, or at least looked younger. He didn’t play nor playboy Brucie, nor stone-ass Batman act. He was just Bruce, a pleasant man that followed his family footsteps in serving humanity with skills in surgery, and frequently visited his retired parents, who were enjoying stress-free life somewhere on Bahamas.
Perhaps it wasn’t fair of Tim to ask this man to take in a hurt and changed orphan, but Bruce still said yes, and Tim was sure that he will do everything he could to make the boy feel safe.
As if to prove that, Bruce also lowered himself to the ground, but didn’t touch the boy without permission, gently talking to the kid about everything and nothing. The trees that were in the garden. The breakfast his Alfred was cooking. The birds he saw the day before.
Tim’s legs went numb from sitting on the hard ground with a weight on them, but, bit by bit, Dick uncured from his nest on Tim’s chest, observing Bruce with a fragile hope.
When Bruce offered his hand, the boy took it, the boy’s eyes watering when the big man didn't recoil from his disgusting, inhuman yellow eyes. Quite the opposite. The gaze on him was loving. Kind.
The boy cried yet again, hiding now in Bruce’s wide and safe chest.
Tim discreetly gave out a sigh of relief.
He had already told this Bruce all he could, remembering the early days of his Dick. He had told then the long list of thing, like: “the boy doesn't take cold well, but it will go away eventually, though he will eat ice cream straight away, you just have to melt it first and then it's okay. And he likes hugs and touching, but he can be afraid to let you touch him at first, because of all of... All bad. He was made to be dangerous, but he's too kind, so he will be very scared to hurt you or that court will come after you because you helped him, so he will try to run and hide, don't let him, but don't pressure him. You can do...”
Tim dropped his eyes to the snow, squeezing his stinging eyes shut.
It was time for him to go.
“Will you stay with me here?” it wasn’t even a whisper, more like a gust of wind.
It hurt.
“I'm sorry,” Tim choked. “I can't stay.”
“You are not my Dick,” he didn’t say. “You are not my brother, but I do wish you well. I wish you all the best.”
***
The portal sparkled and died, leaving a bloodied and tired Tim in the centre of the familiar world’s batcave.
Familial, but not his own.
Hanging his head low, he walked briefly, ignoring his younger self of this world that, obviously, had noticed his absence and had been waiting for his return, teenage hands grasping the new camera that this world’s Jason had presented him not even a week ago.
“Are…” started this world’s teenage Tim.
“I know I shouldn’t have,” said the older one. “But I just… I needed. To do that.”
The young one's face looked sad. “It’s okay. I just wanted to ask you if you’re all right.”
The mage hummed. “No. Not really.”
“Thought as much.”
“I’ll go have a bath.”
Younger Tim raised his eyebrows in surprise. The mage knew it was because he typically was adamant to not get anywhere near the water, so the younger one clicked in that was unusual.
Older Tim didn’t care.
He didn’t care about anything now.