Chapter Text
So this was happening.
Bart was fine, though, and everything was perfectly under control.
...
Okay, so nothing was under control, and Bart was most certainly not fine, but there wasn’t time for panicking right now. These next few minutes would make or break the mission.
His main problem was the new variable. Travelling back in time to meet his extended family and save his grandfather? Just another day. But that ‘Red’ guy? He knew something about Bart, and that was dangerous. Nobody should have known anything about him. This whole operation only worked if Bart was the one holding the cards, and yet, somehow, this random dude had knowledge that Bart didn’t. And given that Bart was literally from the future, that really wasn’t supposed to happen.
At least Red had kept everything to himself instead of exposing Bart, which was a relief, but that still could mean any number of things. Although, given that he apparently knew another time travelling Bart, there was every possibility that he could be useful. What they really needed to do was to arrange a way to talk privately, but Batman looked like he was about ready to stop that plan in its tracks and ground the guy.
Outside of Bart’s furious thinking, he was vaguely aware of Batman crouching down and talking to the kid that they had brought back with them, before standing up and facing everyone else. “Robin, D, help Red Robin take him home. Red Robin, I’m assuming you’ll be able to take care of a cover story. I need to deal with this first.” Batman looked pointedly at the unconscious red-haired man, and they all nodded in response. Almost as an afterthought, Batman turned towards Superboy and Wondergirl. “You two. We will be discussing this later. For now, Wondergirl, go home.” She stiffened in response, wincing slightly, but ultimately nodded.
The whole group started making their way over to the vehicle bay’s exit. He really should walk over there and talk to Red while he had the chance, but Bart was left trailing behind as Wonder Girl and Superboy flanked Red on both sides, all three huddled together and speaking in whispers. They were really making this hard on Bart, weren’t they? And watching everyone zeta beam off made him realize he might not get his chance for a while. Four of them, including Red and the kid, went off to Gotham, Wonder Girl went home alone, and Batman left with the two red headed twins. Or clones? They had mentioned something about clones. That left Bart alone with Superboy and Beast Boy. Sidekicks of this era sure like tagging “girl” or “boy” to the end of everything, didn’t they?
“Well that was... something,” BB said. “Do you guys want to do something? Play a game?”
Honestly? No. Bart had stuff to catastrophize about in new and creative ways, but integrating himself into this world wouldn’t exactly hurt.
Bart almost opened his mouth to speak, but Superboy cut in first. “Actually, I was hoping to talk to Bart about something.” He must have jumped to answer the question if he managed to beat Bart to it.
Beast Boy threw his hands up. “Oh, sure. Everyone’s always going off to have their private talks. No need to include me.” Continuing his melodramatic outburst, he stomped off down a hall, though Bart thought it was probably partially theatrical.
Now alone, Superboy looked at him. “We both know you’re not a tourist.”
“Oh yeah? How d’you figure that?” Bart’s foot was tapping at a pace too fast for a regular human.
“Honestly, considering you managed to fool everyone else, I probably wouldn’t have thought twice if not for Red. He’s also the reason I’m not currently ratting you out, so you better start talking.”
Bart crossed his arms. “Look. I’ve got a job to do, and I can’t have anyone messing this up. If you care about the fate of the world and all that, then you won’t interfere.”
Superboy sighed. “We’re not going to stop you, despite my better judgement. We want to help you. Red knows a version of you in his universe. Told us to trust you until given a reason not to. If what you’re planning is really that big, then you’re going to need backup, and me, Red Robin, and Wonder Girl can help you without tipping off anyone else.”
Bart’s brain was always running faster than the world around him, but even his thoughts could race faster if given a reason. Superboy was right that Bart was taking a risk with incredibly high stakes. Having help wasn’t such a bad idea, but there were two major caveats. One, he wasn’t sure if he could trust these people. Sure, they were all heroes, and they were even heroes he had done extensive research on, or at least, as much research that could be done given the dilapidated resources of the future, and they were willing to give him a chance. But did that really matter? That brought Bart to point two. Even if he could trust them, the more people that knew about the future, the less likely he was to be able to control the situation. And that was dangerous.
He warred back and forth with himself, considering the facts and running through them again and again. He had the time, after all, and he couldn’t afford to mess this up.
The world couldn’t afford him messing this up.
If he trusted them, there were three possible outcomes. They’d either betray him, accidentally mess things up, or, and this was a very small chance, they’d actually help him save the world. His odds were slim to begin with, and he couldn’t really afford to close that margin for error. Then again, if he didn’t trust them, there was no way they would keep this under wraps. Superboy was already disinclined to trust Bart, and he had no idea where Wonder Girl sat. That could be disastrous. At least if he told them something, even if it wasn’t the full truth, he’d be able to influence the outcome.
At somewhat peace with his decision, Bart allowed his thoughts to slow down to the tempo of the rest of the world.
“Okay,” he said warily.
“Really?” Superboy blinked a few times. “Uh, then we should take this outside. Less likely anyone’s going to overhear.”
“Right, right, okay.” Bart nodded rapidly.
Thus was his last chance to change his mind, and indecision was rearing its head. What was he thinking? Trusting others was a quick way to get moded, and Bart had made it this far on his own. And worse, these heroes were probably too soft for what had to be done.
Before he could debate with himself more, fog filled his head for a split moment so short that no one else could have hoped to notice it. When it cleared, Bart was left with a new conviction. His instincts were screaming at him to go along with this now.
He had a good feeling about this.
Tim didn’t mind the quiet. There was a certain comfort that could be found in silence, and his life had been filled with empty halls for so long that he was quite good at finding it. Don’t draw attention, be the good son. Stay quiet if you aren’t needed, be polite and no one will notice you doing things you’re not supposed to be doing.
Don’t make a noise and the superheroes around you won’t notice how much you’re panicking.
Tim was really trying to keep it together, but this kind of situation didn’t exactly lend itself to calmness. After all, this was his first time being kidnapped by a creepy old man and subsequently rescued by another version of himself. Plus, that was Batman and Robin. Who now knew that Tim knew their identities. Batman. And Robin. Best to keep his inner fanboy locked up tight.
Everything had moved so fast once they touched down. Tim was having a little trouble processing everything, and that nervous feeling didn’t subside when they teleported to the Batcave (which was, y’know, a thing, apparently).
Maybe Tim wasn’t as good at keeping his cool as he thought, because his other self put his hand on Tim’s shoulder almost immediately after they stepped off the platform. Or maybe, he just knew all of Tim’s habits. “I know this is a lot to take in, but we’ll get you home soon,” he said gently.
Tim nodded a little numbly, his shoulders losing some of their tension. He hadn’t really had a chance to let his guard down in days, but now he was almost home.
The moment was abruptly ended by that angry-looking boy slotting himself between them and glaring at Tim.
“That’s enough of that. To avoid confusion, we shall assign you a new name. Henceforth, you will be referred to as ‘Jerry.’ A name suitable for someone of your… stature.”
‘What.’
“My name’s Tim. It’s really not that hard to just call us both Tim.”
The boy scoffed. “I would expect this sort of fuss from someone named Jerry.”
“That’s not my name. Where did that even come from? How would you feel if I told you that you had a new name?”
“Illogical. I would simply establish superiority and force my opponent to change theirs.”
He could feel his eyebrow twitching.
“Fine. Your new name is Iago. Like the annoying bird in Aladdin.”
“I demand that you rescind!”
Tim was vaguely aware of Robin and his other self watching them, but he was a little too invested in this. Pettiness was, unfortunately, one of his weaknesses.
“No can do, Iago.”
He launched himself at Tim with a screech, and he had only a moment to panic because why did he think it was a good idea to taunt the angry child before his older self swooped in almost inhumanly fast to catch the boy by the collar of his shirt.
“Let go of me, Timothy! I am being insulted by vermin and am well within my rights to retaliate.”
“Calm down, Damian. What’s got you all in a huff?” Big Tim chided. ‘Damian’ simply crossed his arms, dangling slightly from older Tim’s grasp like a scolded kitten.
Robin, almost forgotten in light of everything else going on, snorted. “I know exactly what’s going on,” he said. At the other Tim’s questioning glance, he added, “I’ll tell you later. Right now, we’ve got to get little Timbit over here sorted out.” He turned to look at Damian. “Brat, go cool off. Find Alfie and tell him Tim’s back.”
Big Tim slowly released Damian back to the floor from which he immediately stalked off, still glaring. Tim stuck his tongue out in a show of immaturity just to see Damian’s face twitch.
Tim’s grin slipped. Now that his distraction was gone, the reality of the situation was finally starting to hit him. With his back still facing the others, he sucked in a couple measured breaths. He’d made it this far, he could wait a bit longer to have his breakdown.
He gave himself a count of three. Relax his shoulders and shift his weight casually. One. Close his eyes and shove his emotions to the back of his mind. Two. Plaster on his mask, upturn the corners of his mouth slightly and rearrange the tensions in his face. Three.
Tim spun around. “Alright. What’s next?”
There wasn’t a chance his other self didn’t see through it all, but that was fine. Big Tim wouldn’t call him out on it.
They made eye contact and, yep, Big Tim was raising an eyebrow, but he let it pass. “We need to get a cover story in place. Somehow, I don’t think ‘kidnapped by the leader of a shadow organization that doesn’t officially exist’ will cut it. Amnesia’s always a safe route, it keeps questions off you, or we could fabricate a different version of the kidnapping. Say Robin here happened upon the guys who took you, got the hostage out safe.” He walked over to a massive computer while he talked, starting to type something rapidly. Tim and Robin quickly joined him.
Robin crossed his arms. “Any chance we could play it off like they had no idea who they kidnapped? Timmy’s a relatively high-profile victim.”
Big Tim shook his head. “No, they know he was taken from his house, and the Drakes’ security is too good for amateurs to get past, but sometimes covers work better with a little ambiguity. Let people fill in the details themselves and everything will blow over in a couple weeks.”
Tim came over to see what was pulled up on the monitor: news feeds and police reports about his disappearance. “So we say I have no memory of being kidnapped, I just woke up tied to a chair with a blindfold on. Didn’t see or hear anything until Robin rescued me.”
Big Tim smiled at him. “Exactly. We can go plant evidence. Stage a rescue, blow up a warehouse, and then get you home.”
He nodded back. “And any loose ends the police might try to follow up on can be chalked up to being destroyed in the explosion.”
“No, guys, we can’t just blow buildings up like that,” Robin interjected.
They both straightened up from where they were hunched over the desk to look at him. “Why not?” they asked in unison.
“Oh my god, there’s two of them,” he whispered, throwing his hands up.
Tim looked over at Big Tim confusedly, who simply shrugged in response.
Any further deliberation was interrupted by the sound of steps coming down the same staircase that Damian had exited up.
“Master Tim!” an elderly man exclaimed, rushing over, but he stopped short, noticing Tim. “Ah. Master Damian hadn’t informed me that we have a guest.”
“Alfred,” Robin said, a little desperately. “Please tell them we can’t blow up warehouses for no reason.”
“Jason,” Big Tim frowned, sounding disappointed, “were you not listening to all the reasons we listed?”
Tim agreed, but he didn’t say it out loud. That was kind of rude of Robin.
Big Tim gave a brief rundown of the plan to Alfred. At the end of the explanation, his eyebrows were lifted slightly. “Perhaps we could try a less extreme solution? One that doesn’t involve blowing up property that doesn’t belong to us?”
Tim felt reprimanded, but he still thought their idea would work. He met his older counterpart’s eyes, who rubbed his forehead with his fingers. “Okay, so let’s scrap the amnesia idea, that’ll cause too much attention. You don’t know where they took you, and were too disorientated to get a location when Robin rescued you. Jason, can you drop him off at the station?” He nodded, and Big Tim started pacing around. “Alright, just leave him there, don’t engage, and get out of there before they ask any questions.”
“There’s still a few holes there though. If we don’t give them a motive, the police will keep looking into it.” Robin crossed his arms.
He waved a hand in response. “We can say they were just robbers. The Drakes keep quite a few priceless artifacts from around the world in that house. The robbers didn’t expect anyone to be home, and nabbed Tim to cover their tracks when he walked in on them. While you two get to the station, I’ll sneak into Drake Manor and grab a few items to corroborate the story.”
Robin sighed. “Tim, I really don’t know how to explain to you that exploding others’ property and stealing stuff is bad,”
Tim decided to pipe up. “Yeah, except my parents aren’t exactly the most ethical, per se. They’re archeologists, and a lot of the stuff they collect shouldn’t belong to them in the first place. I can write down a list of things to take that they wouldn’t have noticed missing immediately, and you can send them back to where they belong.”
“Okay,” Robin replied, looking back at Big Tim. “And you’re sure you can get in and out without being caught? They’re going to be on guard given everything.”
Once more, him and other Tim looked at each other before breaking out into laughs. “Please, Jason. I’ve been sneaking in and out of Drake Manor since I was nine years old to go chase vigilantes with a camera. This’ll be a cakewalk.”
The old man let out a huff. “Master Timothy, I have missed your particular brand of syntax. But please, do be careful.”
“Always am, Alfred,” Big Tim grinned back. “Let’s go, guys. The sooner we get Timmy home, the better.” He ruffled Tim’s hair.
Alright then. Time to go home.
In the back of her mind, Barbara knew something was wrong. She usually snapped awake with a clear mind. This molasses was new, but she didn’t care enough to try to wade through it.
The first time Barbara was able to breach that hazy veil, she cracked her eyes just enough to make out a man hunched over near her hip. She couldn’t remember his name, but she knew that she knew him. Lucidity didn’t last long before she drifted off again.
It went on like that for a while. She didn’t know how long she lay there, reaching the surface briefly only to be pulled back down. Maybe days, maybe minutes, but she felt no urgency. And when she finally knew it was time to wake up, it was a calm ascension into the world.
“Hey,” she whispered against the harshness in her throat.
“Barbara!” Dick’s head shot up. “How’re you feeling?”
He fluidly changed position so he was sitting near her waist and leaning over her, elbows by her shoulders as his eyes desperately searched her face.
Barbara smacked her lips slightly, trying to figure out how to speak, but every movement felt weighted with lead. “Hey,” she said again, followed by a small cough.
Dick rolled away for a second and when he was back, there was a straw pressing against her lips. “Drink.”
The water made her feel a little better, but her mind still felt muddled. “What happened?” she groaned.
His jaw worked itself a bit. “What do you remember?”
Barbara closed her eyes, willing the gears in her head to turn.
Bang.
‘Oh.’
“How bad is it?”
Dick’s face scrunched up. Bad then.
“Dick. Just tell me.”
“The bullet grazed your spine. It’s—they don’t know if…”
Alarm coursed through her veins, clearing her mind further. “Dick.”
His eyes meant hers, so incredibly blue and shining with emotion. “Paralysis. From the waist down. The doctor said it’s likely you’ll never be able to walk again.”
And her world stopped.
Some moments were so impactful, so devastating, that everything seemed to hold still in sympathy to your grief. A small eternity packed into the span of a few seconds while your head tried to make sense of things again.
“What?” she whispered softly, barely processing the words as she stared at him, looking into those familiar eyes, at the curve of his face, at the grief etched in his brow.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said desperately, brushing the hair from her forehead several times. “It’ll be okay. I’ll make it okay.” Their faces were so close that Barbara could see the exact moment his first tear dropped and fell onto her nose.
That broke the dam. Broke the numbness.
Her whole life relied on her ability to run, to fly, to fight. To keep the people she loved safe. To protect them. And now that had been ripped away from her. She felt something inside of her fracture, but she wasn’t prepared to face that reality right now. She didn’t have the strength.
“We’ll make it okay,” she corrected with a wobbly smile. They both knew she didn’t mean it just as much as they both knew Dick’s words had been a plea to the world, not a promise. But they could pretend for now.
Barbara raised a feeble hand to wrap around his back, still too weak to do much, but wanting to hold onto the man she loved. Dick carefully slipped a hand under her shoulders, bringing her in oh-so-delicately while holding himself up on his other elbow.
She couldn’t tell which of them was shaking, but maybe it didn’t matter.
“I love you.” His voice cracked. “So much.” He held on just a bit tighter, as if his arms could be enough to pull her back together.
“I love you too.” And, ‘ Oh. There’re the tears.’
She wanted to clutch on desperately, to squeeze the emotions away, but her limbs were growing weak. Her arms loosened against her will until Barbara was held up by nothing but the press of him around her, her eyes trying to drift shut without her permission.
“Dick,” she whispered, and he laid her down gently. Her muscles relaxed, her body begging at her to let go, but she held on for a few more seconds. “Will you be here when I wake up?”
“Of course I will.” He kissed her forehead. “Get some rest, Barbara.”
And the world faded away again.