Chapter Text
At some point, Tim will have to go find every person who’s ever caused him a genius, every teacher who’s ever given him an A, and mail them all an apology letter because he must have fooled them all. He practically sprinted back down the stairs, moving as fast as he could without calling too much attention, scanning the room for any sign of Damian or Jason. Jason didn’t actually know what Peter looked like, so he’d just be trailing Damian. The odds are that the younger boy would be scouring the ballroom, hopefully ignoring upstairs for at least a few minutes. All Tim needed to do was get Steph and Duke back to Peter and leave before Damian saw and tried to murder Peter in the middle of the gala, with everyone who was anyone in Gotham in attendance.
As Tim maneuvered through the crowd, he couldn’t help but curse himself in his head. How could he have possibly forgotten that Damian not only knew what Peter looked like but that he was the one who had taken the pictures? It was an outrageous slip even by his own standards, and it would take a minor miracle to get Peter out of there without Jason seeing him. Not to mention he would have to come up with a convincing enough excuse for why he brought Tim there in the first place, and Jason would tell Dick who would tell Bruce, and then Steph and Duke would get dragged in. The worst part is that it was solely Tim’s fault, for not taking two fucking seconds to think before inviting Peter to this gala where he probably just had a terrible time anyway.
“Steph! Duke!” Tim called, spotting them standing nervously in the crowd, whispering furiously to each other.
“Did you find Peter?” Steph asked worriedly, pulling at the straps of her dress while Duke bit his lip and tapped his shoe against the ground.
“Yeah, he’s upstairs and it should be easy enough to get him out, we just need to—” A loud crash sounded above, and Tim instinctively pulled Steph to the side and shielded her with his body as Duke grabbed both of them as glass began to rain down around them from above. Screams began to echo as Steph shoved herself out from under him, Duke shook shards of glass off his suit, and Tim pulled out his phone as he looked up and started scanning the roof.
“Okay, I don’t know what’s going on, but you two go change into your suits and I’ll get Peter and help round everyone up—”
A hand gripped his shoulder, and Tim felt himself forcibly spun around. He was face-to-face with Jason, who had an angry look on his face.
“Timothy,” he began, almost scarily calm. “If you blew up the fucking roof so you could sneak your little boyfriend out of here without anyone seeing I swear to everything holy I don’t give a shit about Bruce’s no-kill rule—”
Another loud sound echoed, metal hitting the tile floor hard, and Jason let go of Tim and stepped in front of him as metal canisters rolled along the floor, an all too familiar green gas spilling out.
“Jesus,” Jason exhaled. Tim mentally tabled this to argue about the next time Steph accused him of being paranoid and pulled out the emergency pack he kept inside his suit. Unzipping it, Tim grabbed the rebreather inside and elbowed Jason in the side, holding it out for him.
“Do me a favor and take this, I don’t need you shooting any random civilians tonight because you think one of them is Bruce.”
Jason rolled his eyes but let out a begrudging, “Thanks,” some gratitude clear in his voice. Over his shoulder, he called, “Hey, dumb and dumber, hurry and get your suits on, you’re with me. Timmy here can handle the civilians.”
Nodding at Jason, Tim turned just to collide with Dick’s chest, panting and staring at them with wide eyes, looking disheveled.
“Are you okay? Did you breathe any of the gas in?” He asked, concerned, snatching Dick’s wrist and pressing two fingers against his pulse point, trying to see if his heartbeat was unusually high.
“Tim! I’m fine, I just, it doesn’t really make sense, but up there I think I just saw—”
“We don’t have fucking time for this,” Jason barked out, grabbing Dick by the collar of his suit and yanking him toward the secret passage they’d come through earlier. “We need to get antidotes and go get Scarecrow, you two can chat later.”
“Wait, up there, it's—” Dick was pulled harshly away as Steph and Duke disappeared behind a thick curtain, the other two following after a moment, although Tim could still hear Dick shouting as they vanished.
Tim looked around the ballroom, people yelling and screaming as furniture broke and gas slowly spread throughout the room, and tried not to think about how hard it would be to find Peter, who might as well be a needle in a haystack, among the screaming crowd.
“Shit.”
Peter had no concept of how galas were usually supposed to go, but he was pretty sure that this wasn’t it. He stood at the bottom of the staircase, people running past him and shouldering him as he tried to understand what was going on. The canisters that fell from the ceiling were leaking a nauseous green gas, and Peter watched as a woman in tall heels breathed it in and then seized, wobbling precariously, and her eyelids began to flutter.
Knowing what was going to happen, he started forward, arms outstretched as his Spidey Sense began to blare. He paused, confused, as a weight collided into his side and knocked him to the ground.
His back and head contacted the hard tile floor, and Peter saw stars for a moment. As he blinked, he saw a boy on top of him—Damian Wayne, the same one who had accosted him earlier in the hall.
“I knew you had something to do with all this,” the boy hissed and reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a sharp dagger, brandishing it at him. “I should’ve taken care of you earlier when I had the chance.”
“Dude,” Peter replied, aghast. “I cannot be the biggest problem happening right now.”
Damian’s face screwed up with rage as he flipped the dagger in his hand, the serrated side facing Peter, slicing down at him.
Catching the boy’s arm and forcing the blade away from him, Peter flipped him, his knee on Damian’s chest, as his hand was wrapped around the boy’s wrist. “Did you just seriously try to slit my throat? Who raised you? We’re in public!”
Evidently, this meant nothing to Damian, who kicked at Peter’s ribcage and made him double over for a second, his grip loosening enough that the younger boy could twist out of his grip. Damian dropped back into a crouch, breathing hard and staring at Peter with piercing eyes.
“You truly are worthy of being my enemy,” he said, tossing his dagger between his hands as he slid one foot forward, falling into some martial arts stance that implied a level of skill that didn’t match the teenager's body in front of him. “It will be a shame this will be over so soon.”
“Has anyone told you your monologues need some work?” Peter tossed back, bringing his hands up in front of his face because apparently, he would be squaring off against a child during a villain attack.
Damian snarled and charged forward at him, and Peter nimbly moved out of the way at the last moment, the boy swiping at the air. Bouncing between the balls of his feet, Peter held out his pointer and middle and made a come-at-me gesture, allowing a small smirk to appear on his face. “Come on, you’re going to have to do better than that.”
The boy attempted to swipe out of his legs, and Peter hopped over it, landing and moving away, pulling them both further from the gas. “Is that really the best you’ve got? Cause—”
Again, his Spidey Sense started to echo through his head, but somehow, not from the boy in front of him. Peter looked up to see a large chandelier, held by a heavy chain that partly snapped, beginning to sway dangerously.
“Hey kid, can we pause this for just one second, there’s—”
“You will not escape me!” The boy yelled, continuing to try to stab at him with the dagger.
Dodging while watching the chandelier was no easy task, and repeatedly glancing between the two of them meant that Damian’s swipes were getting closer. “I promise I’m not trying to, but if both of us get squashed, I don’t think that you’ll be able to vanquish me or whatever.”
“Do not try to fool me with your tricks!”
Peter was weighing the cost of just picking the boy up and letting himself get stabbed when the chandelier let out a loud groan, and he could hear the chain snap, hurtling down towards them. Damian didn’t seem to notice as Peter jumped and tackled the kid, sending them both skidding out of the danger zone as the chandelier crashed into the ground, demolishing the spot they’d been less than a second before.
“You couldn’t have listened to me?” Peter asked exasperatedly, looking down at the kid. Damian looked up at him with wide eyes, and he traced the boy’s gaze to his arm. There was a rip in his sleeve, the dark fabric of his suit jacket slowly staining a dark red. The dagger clattered to the floor as Damian sharply exhaled, and Peter gently touched the cut, his fingers coming away bloody.
“I knew I couldn’t have nice things,” Peter whispered, mostly to himself as he mourned the loss of the only nice suit jacket he’d ever owned. “God, Vicki paid so much for this, and I couldn’t even wear it for three hours. She’s going to kill me.”
As Peter tried to consider whether he could stitch the jacket back together himself, Damian shot up and pushed Peter back, making the older boy fall back. Peter wondered momentarily why his Spidey Sense hadn’t gone off at all, but the boy made no further moves towards him or the dagger on the ground.
“Why did you do that?” Damian demanded, his hands balled into fists as he fixed Peter with an intense look. “We were fighting! We’re enemies!”
“I could not have less of a clue what you’re talking about,” Peter honestly told the kid, applying pressure to the wound on his arm while still sitting on the ground. “We met like an hour and a half ago and even if you did try to stab me for some reason, I’m not just going to let you get flattened like a pancake by a fucking chandelier.”
He was pretty sure that cursing in front of grade schoolers was generally frowned upon, but his arm was starting to sting and someone had apparently already taught this kid how to slit throats, so hearing Peter say fuck would probably be the least of his worries.
In front of him, Damian’s face was contorting, attempting to look stern or intimidating, but he kept breaking, flexing his hands open and closed as the boy squeezed his eyes shut. A little concerned, Peter slowly pushed himself to his feet, keeping his gaze on Damian the whole time. Around them, the screams and crashing sounds hadn’t stopped; if anything, they’d gotten louder, but that all would have to wait for one moment.
“Hey, are you okay?” He asked, trying to keep any pity out of his voice. “Clearly, you’re very adept for your age and everything, but I can still help you get out of this mess and back to your parents.”
That seemed to be exactly the wrong thing to say as the kid’s expression shuttered closed and he shifted away from Peter. “I’m fine. There are more important things that require my attention now.” Damian grabbed the dagger and slipped it back into his jacket, sparing Peter one last glance. “Be careful, there is a large amount of danger present, and our duel has not yet been satisfied.”
Peter smiled at him, choosing to take that as a compliment. “You too.”
With a scowl still present on his face, Damian nodded at him one last time before darting away. Peter watched him as he ran off until he disappeared behind a pillar before turning back towards the main part of the ballroom. The woman from earlier was convulsing on the ground, her shoulders shaking, and Peter ran over to her, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her on her side.
“Can you hear me?” Peter asked, placing two fingers against her neck to feel her pulse. “Can you try to take some deep breaths with me?”
The woman had a glassy look in her eyes, as her mouth was open in a soundless scream, and Peter glanced around to see many others in a similar state, a man curled up in the corner, and others passed out on the floor, shaking and mumbling to themselves.
He was getting the sinking feeling that this event may be a little out of his pay grade, and he turned to look back at the woman. “Ma’am? Is everything all right?”
In the back of his mind, his Spidey Sense was ringing, and the green gas was starting to pool around them, which Peter had no particular desire to breathe in. He ripped out his tie and held it over his mouth, hoping to filter at least some of the gas out, but he didn’t have any other choices. Peter decided it would probably be best just to get them all far away, so he crouched down next to her, wondering if he could just pick her up and carry her out of the gas. As soon as he got down next to her, the woman’s head snapped over to him, her eyes focusing sharply.
Surprised by her lucidness, he stalled, unsure of how to proceed. “Are you okay? I think we should move you out of the gas. Is that alright with you?”
“What are you doing here?” She asked him, confusion clear in her voice.
“What am I doing here?” Peter parroted, lost. “I don’t understand.”
“You—you shouldn’t be here, John,” the woman told him, her voice shaky. Peter didn’t even have enough time to wonder who John was before she continued, “You’re dead.”
“What?”
“You’re dead!” She screamed, shoving him away. Peter was so surprised, and his Spidey Sense was already going off so loudly that he took it, not wanting to hurt her. He caught himself on the hand holding the tie over his mouth, and slowly pushed himself back up, attempting not to make any sudden movements. She began to scramble backward, and Peter stayed in a crouch, trying not to appear threatening.
“Listen, I don’t know who you think I am, but I just want to help.”
His Spidey Sense was deafening and making it hard for him to think. He steadied himself on one hand and pressed the palm of his other hand against his forehead, attempting to will himself through. The woman was still yelling something, but Peter had trouble hearing exactly what it was. His head began to pound. Peter took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and realized that he had just breathed in more of the green gas, which was probably setting off his senses.
Torn between trying to help the woman and getting away from whatever this gas was, Peter tried to stand up but instead stumbled, unable to maintain his balance. He swayed, about to tumble to the ground, when a pair of strong arms caught him, pulling one of his arms around their shoulders and the other tightly gripping his waist. Peter felt himself physically hauled away, the person practically carrying him as they moved away from the gas.
Blinking, Peter tried to focus on whoever was in front of him, but his vision kept swimming in and out. A voice was talking directly in his ear, but he couldn’t make out the words, only hearing an urgent tone. Peter felt himself lifted momentarily as cold air hit his face, and he squeezed his eyes shut in response. It felt like he was being carried down a set of stairs before Peter was gently lowered to the ground, his back against a hard wall.
As he squinted his eyes open, he saw a pair of clear blue eyes in front of him and couldn’t help but relax for a moment as he recognized Tim. The boy was saying something to him, but his voice was fading in and out, and trying to hold onto them felt like grabbing at fog.
“I need you to just hang on for one second, Peter, I’ll get you an antidote and everything’s going to be okay,” Tim said, and Peter let his eyes fall closed once more. His head really was pounding, and he felt dazed and confused. Realizing he should probably respond to Tim, Peter opened his eyes, but Tim wasn’t in front of him anymore.
Everything snapped into clarity as Peter jolted straight up, any sluggishness from earlier gone. He was home, sitting in May’s apartment on the couch, staring at a TV with some random cable station playing, a journalist sitting at a desk staring solemnly back at him.
“This officially marks one year since the last sighting of Spiderman, with seemingly no clues for where New York’s ‘friendliest hero’ could have gone…”
The sound tapered off as if someone had turned the volume down, and he began to hear sobs from behind him. May was standing in the kitchen, remote in one hand, the other covering her mouth as she let out broken cries, shoulders hunched in on herself. Peter sprang to his feet, ready to comfort her and tell May he was here, not missing, when Tony stepped out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
May turned into his chest, and her sobs became muffled as Tony rubbed gentle circles into her back, making shushing sounds. He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up to look at him, tears glimmering in May’s eyes.
“Hey, you know you’ve done everything you could,” Tony said, and Peter felt like someone had stolen the air right out of his lungs. “It’s all going to be okay.”
Even while Tony was talking, May continued to make broken sounds as more tears spilled down her face. Peter took a small step forward, not sure what was going on but wanting desperately to help, to make her stop crying.
“We all knew this was going to happen anyway,” Tony remarked, his tone going from sympathetic to one of malicious glee. “Isn’t that right, Peter?”
Tony’s head moved in almost a robotic motion towards him, his brown eyes staring into his soul. His mouth twisted down into an expression Peter had never seen before, and he could feel terror sink into his bones.
“You’ve always been selfish, haven’t you? You’ve always been someone who takes. First, you took her husband from her, the love of her life, leaving her stuck with you. Then you disappeared too, leaving her in an empty apartment with ghosts haunting every corner of it. You couldn’t be a good son to her, no, you needed to be a hero. You needed to be able to convince yourself you could make up for all this harm you’ve done, but we both know you’ll never be able to.”
Tony let go of May, leaving his aunt standing there sobbing, and started to advance towards Peter. Peter tried to back away, but he felt like his back was against a wall even though he couldn’t see one. Coming to a stop right in front of him, Tony leaned in close, and Peter could smell the man’s fancy cologne as he felt his eyes start to water.
“It’s true, you know. No matter what you do, Peter, it won’t be enough. You are not enough.” Tony told him, and Peter almost wished there was still something hostile in his voice, but the man just sounded resigned, like he was speaking facts. “You couldn’t even save me.”
The landscape changed suddenly, and Peter spun around, going from the apartment to the top of a building, looking at the clear New York skyline. As he continued to whip his head around, he realized somehow he’d ended up on the roof of Stark Tower when a yell echoed through the air, and he turned slowly, too slowly, to see Tony plummet off the side. He broke into a sprint towards him, feeling like he was shoving past someone even though he couldn’t see anything, but he was too late.
“No!” Peter yelled, skidding to his knees and looking down off the side of the building. He was prepared to dive off, hoping he could grab Tony and cushion his fall somehow, but there wasn’t anybody falling through the air.
“I thought you were supposed to be smart,” Tony’s voice called out, and Peter pushed himself back up to his feet to see the man standing on the opposite side of the roof again, his heels already off the edge. “I thought if anyone could do it, it’d be you.”
Peter sprinted towards him again, determined to stop him from falling this time, but once again, Tony tumbled over the edge. Peter jumped after him, hand extended, certain he’d be able to grab him, but when he landed, he was in the middle of the roof again, with no Tony.
“How many times will it take?” Tony asked pensively. If Peter didn’t know better, he would say that they were back in his lab, discussing their latest invention.
“I’m sorry,” Peter choked out, feeling like something was caught in his throat. “Tony, please, I’m so sorry. Please.”
“Would it help if it were someone else?” Tony asked. His features shifted until it was Ben standing in front of him, blood spreading through his shirt from the same gunshot wound that had killed him. Ben staggered, his hands clutching at his stomach, and blood slowly spilled out through his fingers.
“Peter?” he gasped, his voice wet as blood also began to spill out from the corner of his mouth. “What—why, why aren’t you helping me?”
Ben tilted back as his knees gave out, and Peter still wasn’t fast enough. He could feel the tears openly flowing down his face as despair sat heavy in his heart, feeling like a physical weight on his chest. He slowly turned around again, already knowing what he’d see.
Tony was standing there, staring at him again. “Please, Peter,” he said, and his hand reached out towards him. “I don’t want to die.”
Peter pushed himself to his feet again, wiping his eyes, and ran off, vowing to do whatever it took.
“I need you to just hang on for one second, Peter, I’ll get you an antidote and everything’s going to be okay,” Tim tried to tell Peter reassuringly, one hand steadying him against the wall while he pulled his phone out of his pocket, scrolling to Dick’s contact and pressing call, praying the man would pick up. Peter was shaking slightly underneath his hand, his eyes fluttering. The phone rang as Tim held it against his ear, and he cursed when the line went dead, Dick’s voicemail playing.
As Tim shoved his phone back into his pocket, trying to figure out what to do, Peter’s eyes snapped open with a startling focus, his back going ramrod straight.
“Peter?” Tim ventured, removing his hand from the other boy’s shoulder. “Can you hear me?”
The boy just stared back at him, hazel eyes wide with his pupils blown, eyes staring forward, empty and unblinkingly. Tim placed one hand on Peter’s chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly, unsure of what steps to take next. Usually, fear gas took a second to kick in, but Tim had no conception of how long Peter had been there before Tim had pulled him away.
“Do you think you’d be able to stand?” Tim pushed. At this point, he didn’t even care if Peter saw the cave; all Tim wanted was to get him an antidote. “Peter, do you think you can do that?”
With a shocking speed, Peter shot to his feet, fast enough that Tim fell onto one knee and had to steady himself against the wall. Yet Peter didn’t make any effort to move, instead standing there. Tim slowly rose, keeping his eyes on Peter.
Tim didn’t want to make any sudden movements and startle him, but he also had no idea if Peter could see him right now. “Okay, let’s—”
Peter flinched away, his back impacting hard against the wall behind him. Tim raised his hands nonthreateningly, desperate to do anything he could to help without frightening Peter anymore. His feet felt almost glued to the soft grass as he watched Peter, his chest heaving, his brain racing at a million miles an hour as he tried to devise a plan of action.
Before Tim could decide what to do, Peter broke into a sprint, shouldering past Tim and racing off at a breakneck speed. Tim gaped after him for a moment before chasing after him, but Peter was almost impossibly fast. Moving around the side of the Manor, Tim watched Peter run like his life depended on it, before skidding to his knees and grabbing at the grass, muttering to himself. He was doubled over, and Tim stopped next to him, out of breath, and dropped down next to Peter.
“Peter,” Tim gasped out, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, you’re okay.”
“I’m sorry,” Peter responded brokenly, and something in Tim’s chest felt sharp at the despair so clear in his voice. “Tony, please, I’m so sorry. Please.”
“What?” Tim involuntarily responded, his mind going blank. “Why are you apologizing to Tony?”
On an intellectual level, Tim knew Peter couldn’t hear him, too lost in the fear gas, but Tim needed an answer. He needed to know why Peter was muttering apologies and pleases to this man Tim had never met, with tears dripping down his face.
Wanting to comfort Peter in some way, unable to hear this any longer, he reached down to place a hand on the boy's shoulder, but he pushed himself to his feet again before Tim got the chance. Peter bolted towards the side of the Manor and jumped up, grabbing onto a windowsill and jumping to get to one of the lower sides of the roof, scrambling up there as well.
With no time to spare, Tim followed again, thanking his lucky stars he had previously scaled these walls, or else Peter would have left him in the dust. He pulled himself up the same way onto the window, doing a half pull-up and swinging himself over to the roof’s edge, then hauling himself up. The fancy suit Tim was wearing felt tight, and his dress shoes were not made for running in, but even still, he managed to make it up, breathing heavily as he scanned the roof for Peter.
Peter stood on the edge, looking out over the edge, mumbling to himself, and swaying slightly. As quietly as he could, Tim shot up, scrambling over towards Peter. Fear gas made some people do insane things, which seemed perfectly rational in their state. Tim couldn’t be sure what exactly Peter was seeing at the moment, and he probably didn’t realize he was standing on the edge of a fucking roof.
Just as Tim came up next to him, Peter shifted, probably not enough to send him tumbling off the side, but Tim was taking absolutely no chances and tackled the other boy. They both hit the tiles of the roof hard, Tim’s fall mostly cushioned by Peter’s body. Underneath him, Peter was shaking, eyes glassy.
“I know you probably can’t hear me right now, but I need you to take a deep breath for me.” Tim grabbed his phone as he straddled Peter, hoping his weight would be enough to momentarily hold the other boy still. He furiously texted Dick without looking at his phone, telling him he needed an antidote on the roof, and pressed send. “I promise, it’s going to be—”
Peter twisted in a way that humans shouldn’t be able to move, almost reminding him of Dick in that moment, and wrapped his legs around Tim’s waist. Before he even realized what was happening, Peter flipped him, the breath expelling from his lungs. As Tim blinked stars out of his eyes, Peter looked down at him, and Tim could see the slight ring of green mixed in with the brown of his irises, almost glowing in the night.
“Please,” Peter whispered again, and Tim so desperately wished he could crawl inside of whatever nightmare the other boy was living in and do something, anything to fix this. “I’m so sorry—I’m sorry, Tony, please just let me—”
Tim sat up and wrapped his arms around Peter, one hand cradling the back of his neck and the other tightly gripping around his waist. The other boy tensed for a moment before collapsing into Tim, falling apart in his arms. Peter pressed his face into Tim’s shoulder, his body shaking with sobs. Tim very carefully took all of his feelings and shoved them down as far as he could, unable to deal with this all at once. He just held Peter as tight as he could, unable to move without the risk of Peter trying to throw himself off a balcony again, and prayed Dick or someone could arrive soon with the antidote.
“Jason, stop, I need you to listen to me!” Dick said, ripping his arms out of Jason’s grip. They had just walked through the cave entrance, and Duke and Steph disappeared off towards the lockers, presumably to change into their suits.
“What could it possibly be, Dick?” Jason asked, clearly fed up. “Do you know how terrible my night has been? Apparently, our stalker is here, the photographer, and I had to chase the Demon around half the night trying to find him.”
“Did you?” Dick asked, suprised by this piece of information. “Where did you—wait, that’s not important. I saw Peter!”
“Peter?” Jason repeated back to him, his eyebrows scrunching up. “Like, Peter, Peter? Like the street kid who runs around Gotham, constantly beaten up and half-starved? Why the fuck would he be here?”
“I don’t know, Jason! That’s what I was trying to tell you before you interrupted and dragged me down here! I had to step out to take a phone call about some random League drama, and then when I came back, there he was! Just loitering on the top of the staircase!”
“And you didn’t talk to him?”
“Well then, the roof collapsed and green gas started spilling out, and I figured maybe we had a bigger problem on our hands.”
“What are you two gossiping about?” Steph called, hair-tie between her teeth as she hopped over to them, attempting to put her combat boots on. “Really not trying to interrupt or anything, but a supervillian is currently destroying your house.
“Not my house,” Dick and Jason both said at the same time, and Jason rolled his eyes.
“Dick, when is the last time you’ve been in Bludhaven. Face it, you’ve basically moved back in.”
“I’ve moved back in? Tell me why every time I talk to Alfred, he’s going on about whatever pastries the two of you baked that day. And I’ve been in the library and seen all the shit you’ve moved, no one else is going through Bruce’s rare book collections.”
“You don’t know that was me!”
“Okay,” Duke said, emerging fully in his costume with his helmet under an arm. “You know who does live here? Me. At least, like three days out of the week. And I actually liked the ballroom, so can the two of you stop arguing and get changed?”
“What could you guys even be arguing about?” Steph called, as Dick walked over and slammed open his locker, the metal on metal echoing throughout the cave.
“Dick saw Peter,” Jason replied, and Dick sighed as he shucked off his jacket and started unbuttoning his shirt.
“You say that like you don’t believe me,” he muttered, undoing his belt buckle and pulling it out of his pants loops.
“Even you have to admit, it doesn’t make any sense. Why would Peter be here?”
“Sorry, who?”
Steph peaked around the lockers and Dick yelped, turning away. “Steph, I’m changing!”
“You’re in your boxers, and I think your suit is tighter. The point is, nothing I haven’t seen before. What were you saying?”
Giving up, Dick started to pull his suit on. “I saw Peter. Like, punched the lights out of the Joker, Peter. I’ve been chasing him around Gotham for like two weeks, and I turn around and he’s just standing there, at the gala.”
“Peter? You know Peter?”
“Of course I know Peter!”
“Like, brown hair, skinny, was wearing a blue suit tonight? That Peter?” Duke interjected, appearing behind Steph.
“How do you know all that?” Jason asked, loading both of his guns before sliding them into his holsters. Dick finished zipping up his costume and pressed his domino mask on, looking over his shoulder at the other two. Duke was standing there, his face contorted into an odd expression, as Steph bit on her nail, clearly thinking hard.
“Yeah, why do you guys care?” Dick questioned
Steph shoved Duke in the side, causing the taller boy to stumble for a second. As he shot her an annoyed look, she cleared her throat. “Obviously, the two of us talked to him tonight, and we’re mad that we didn’t figure that out. But just to set the record straight, the kid in the blue suit is your Peter? Joker Peter?
“I’m pretty sure I know what Peter looks like,” Dick told her, beginning to get annoyed. He unsheathed his escrima sticks from his back and looked over at everyone else. “Okay, this conversation needs to be tabled because there are people who need actual help. Does everyone have antidotes?”
“Tim made some based on the latest strain. I grabbed some,” Steph said, holding several vials in her palm. Jason grabbed a few and pocketed them, and Dick took the extra and slipped them into his belt.
“Thanks, Steph. Okay, everyone good to go?”
Duke and Steph sharply nodded, and Jason didn’t respond, but he rolled his shoulders back and pulled out one of his guns.
“Bruce is rounding up the civilians and should have evacuated everyone from the ballroom who hasn’t been infected with gas. Spoiler, because you have the most antidotes, you take everyone in there, help emergency services from there, and then come as backup if we’re still fighting Scarecrow. Signal, you go around the back of the Manor, Hood and I will go from the front. Everyone, make sure you have your rebreathers. Scarecrow isn’t usually the most physical of opponents, but he probably has a few tricks up his sleeve.”
Dick turned to the Cave’s main exit and Jason followed, while the other two went to leave through various ways.
“Hey, does something about this seem kind of off?” Jason asked, jogging up next to him.
“I don’t know,” Dick replied, reaching the ladder at the edge of the cave and starting to climb it. “Nothing about this seems a typical Scarecrow scenario, but then again, that might be the point.”
“But how does Scarecrow have the advantage here?” Jason argued, following him up the ladder. “He’s a strategist, avoiding one-on-one physical fights, especially in an unfamiliar environment. Fear gassing the gala is one thing, but doing it himself? That’s not usually his M.O.”
They reached the top of the ladder and Dick pushed out the cover, moving a fake rock out of the way. Dick hopped out and reached a hand down and heaved Jason up, and the other man let out a grunt as his feet hit the grass.
“Maybe he’s just getting cocky? I mean, he hasn’t been in the news as much lately, and it's not like he’d expect four vigilantes to just appear the second he dropped the gas.”
“Sure, but everyone knows that Batman and Bruce Wayne have some relationship. It’s not like he thought this would be an easy hit, and there’s no clear target here either.”
Dick opened his mouth to respond when his phone beeped, and he went to grab it from his utility belt. His phone was set to only allow notifications from certain people, so odds are it was semi-important.
Tim Drake
need antdote in roof
Friday, 10:09 pm
“Shit,” Dick said, shoving his phone back into his belt. “We need to go, I think Tim’s been fear gassed.”
“What?” Jason questioned, but Dick broke into a sprint. There was a section of the wall that Dick had been scaling since he was a kid, and he knew it like the back of his hand. It was on the side of the mansion and led to the roof, the fastest way up Dick knew. Despite the lack of explanation, Jason was still right on his heels, and they quickly made it onto the lower level of the roof.
The manor was huge, and there were several different levels of the roofs that Tim could be on, assuming that was even the meaning of his message. He could be on the other side of the manor, and the staggered levels meant there wasn’t a clear view over the whole building.
“Dick!” Tim’s voice yelled out, sounding hoarse. “Steph! Duke! Jason! Someone!”
Dick isn’t sure who moved first, him or Jason, but they moved together towards the voice. Tim sounded panicked, far from the cool demeanor he usually tried to display, so fear gas was still on the table. They moved across the tiles swiftly, and Dick leaped up onto a higher level, scanning the roof in front of him, where he saw Tim’s distinctive head of black hair.
Sliding the antidote out of his belt, Dick, relieved, yelled out, “Tim!”
Tim’s head snapped up towards him, meaning that he was lucid, at least to some extent. As he got closer, he realized Tim was sitting on someone, possibly holding them in his arms. It seemed like Tim went to stand up, maybe to move towards Dick or help the person underneath him, when the figure moved. The person kicked Tim in the stomach, sending the boy sprawling back, and Dick felt Jason stall next to him.
As Tim rolled across the roof tiles, nearing the edge, the other person jumped to their feet. Dick inhaled harshly as he recongized the soiled suit in front of him, as Peter stood there in a defensive stance, hands balled into fists in front of his face.
“Peter?” Dick questioned, confused.
From the edge of the roof, Tim yelled, “Wait, Dick, watch out!”
Dick had looked over to Tim as he was yelling, and when his gaze moved back to Peter, he saw the boy was charging at him.
Ducking, Dick danced out of the way, spinning around to face Peter. The boy pivoted quickly, turning on his heel to lunge back at him, leaving Dick unable to dodge unless he wanted to risk the boy throwing himself off the roof. So he took it, letting out an “Oomf” as his back impacted the ground harshly and the antidote flew out of his hand as Dick tried to brace their fall. Peter landed on top of him, staring down at Dick with tears in his eyes.
“Please, stop,” Peter whispered, his voice breaking as he attempted to speak. “Tony, don’t do this.”
Dick felt his breath catch in his throat, but Peter made no other moves to attack him. He only placed his hands on DIck’s shoulders like he was trying to press him into the ground, or keep him from moving at all.
“Alright,” Jason said, coming up behind them. He reached down and grabbed Peter’s shoulders, pulling Peter off him. “Let’s let Nightwing be, okay, kid?”
Before Dick could even blink the kid spun and punched Jason hard in the helmet, swiping out his feet at the same time and sending the man tumbling over. Peter’s fist made a loud sound as it hit the metal, and Dick winced in sympathy.
Jason got back up just as quickly as he was knocked down, but Peter wasn’t done. He came at Jason again, throwing a quick succession of punches and sending the man stumbling back, unable to counterattack.
“Nightwing, what’s the plan here?” Jason called out, sounding a little desperate. “What do you want me to do?”
“Don’t hurt him!” Tim gasped, coming up next to Dick. The other boy was bleeding slightly from a shallow cut on his forehead, possibly from being slammed into the tiles, but besides that, he looked uninjured. “Peter’s been gassed, he doesn’t know what’s going on!”
“Do I just let him beat me up then?” Jason retorted, and as he spared a second to respond, Peter slammed his fist into Jason’s side, making the man let out a pained sound.
“Can’t you just, I don’t know, grab him?” Dick tried, and Peter kicked out one of Jason’s knees before putting him into a headlock, bringing them both down.
“Does it look like I can grab him?” Jason choked out.
Jason grabbed Peter’s arm that was wrapped around his neck and turned, using his strength and momentum, sending Peter flying up and over his shoulder, forcing the boy to let go. Instead of hitting the roof, Peter rolled, coming back up onto his feet and running at Jason again.
As Dick stood there, unsure of what to do without hurting Peter, Tim had moved and grabbed the antidote from where it had fallen out of Dick’s hand.
“Keep him in place for a second so I can administer the antidote,” Tim instructed, and Jason let out a grunt of acknowledgement. The next time Peter rushed him, Jason took his hit at full speed, wrapping his arms around the kid and holding tight. As Tim came up next to them, uncapping the antidote and moving to stab Peter with it, the boy moved. Tim had mistakenly assumed that Jason was stronger than Peter and could hold him still, but he broke free, lashing out and hitting Tim across the face, knocking him back.
As Tim stumbled, Peter pushed Jason back again and took off at a sprint, away from the other two and towards Dick, and coincidently, the edge of the roof. Peter clearly couldn’t see anything that was in front of him, trapped within his own vision, and was about to go hurdling towards the edge at full speed. Dick wasn’t sure if Peter has gotten lucky or if the kid was a lot stronger than he looked, but he didn’t want to risk stepping in front of him and sending them both off the side.
Instead, Dick held his arm out, knowing the kid would duck beneath it. As Peter did Dick dropped his shoulder and kicked his knees in, making him stumble and fall. When he hit the ground Dick dropped down on top of him, placing a knee on Peter’s sternum to keep him in place.
“Give me the antidote!” Dick yelled, and Tim threw it at him, even though he was still sprawled out on the ground.
Dick caught it, and quickly stabbed Peter in the arm with it, even while the boy struggled weakly. Seeing as he wasn’t fighting as intently as before Dick removed his knee, only holding Peter down with his forearm pressed horizontally across his chest. Almost as soon as the antidote was administered, Peter collapsed backward, all the fight draining out of him.
“I’m sorry,” the boy whispered one last time, before his eyes fell shut and he went limp underneath Dick. Afraid to move too early if Peter started thrashing again Dick stayed for another moment, but it seemed that he really had passed out. He stood up, looking over at Tim and Jason.
“You two all good over there?”
“You know, the upside of wearing a metal helmet is usually people aren’t dumb enough to hit it as hard as they can,” Jason retorted, slowly standing up. “But shit, that kid can throw a punch.”
“Tell me about it,” Tim muttered, also pushing himself to his feet. “I think I got thrown around more just now than any battle I’ve been in for a while.”
Tim was holding his palm against his cheek, but once he moved it Dick could see a bruise already blooming, a light blue against his pale skin. The boy also had a faraway look in his eyes, staring at where Peter lay passed out. Any composure that Tim usually possessed was gone, and he almost looked like a kid playing dress up in his scuffed up suit.
“Tim, you should get checked out for a concussion, he hit you pretty hard,” Dick told him, a little worried.
“What?” Tim asked, and he seemed to remember the situation. “No, that’s not necessary at all, I’m fine.”
“The kid hit you so hard in the face he knocked you off your feet, Replacement, at the very least you should go get some ice to make the swelling go down,” Jason added, and Dick shot him a grateful look.
“Okay, big talk from a guy who also got knocked off his feet multiple times by a civilian,” Tim shot back, and Jason shrugged.
“Maybe we should both go get checked out then,” Jason replied, and Tim looked so shocked at Jason admitting this that he spluttered, unsure exactly how to respond. “And besides,” he continued, “with that kid’s track record, I really wouldn’t take it personally.”
At that moment, Steph’s voice came over the comms, slightly muffled due to the static but clear. “Scarecrow has been taken down, don’t know what happened to you guys, but Signal and I have everything taken care of up here. We’ll meet you guys back at the Cave once everything’s taken care of with his Arkham escort.”
When Dick looked over at Jason he nodded, confirming he’d heard Steph as well. “Jason, we can finish discussing the Scarecrow buisiness later,” Dick told him, kneeling down and scooping Peter up, with one hand under his knees and the other supporting his back. The boy’s head lolled onto Dick’s shoulder, and if he didn’t know what Peter had just been through he would’ve thought he looked almost peaceful.
“Wait, I don’t understand,” Tim said, placing one hand against his head. Dick wasn’t sure if it was out of pain or the blow to the head that was causing the confusion, but Tim was clearly lost. “You’re just going to take him? You can’t do that!”
“It’s not like Peter will be that confused, he knows Dick as Nightwing,” Jason slowly stated, sideying Tim.
“What are you talking about?” Tim questioned, looking back and forth between Jason and Dick.
“Okay, I’ve had enough,” Jason said, and before Tim could move, Jason bent down and grabbed him, throwing him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry as Tim let out a squawk. “You got knocked pretty hard there, and I’m not going to explain this again to a concussed person when you might not even remember it.”
“Jason, let me down!” Tim yelled, leaning back and trying to elbow the man in the head, but Jason didn’t budge.
“Let me know what safehouse you take him to!” Jason yelled over his shoulder back at Dick, who could only nod in a stunned disbelief. Tim’s yelling continued as they walked away, but eventually faded as they made their way back to the Cave. Soon, there was only silence again, albeit the approaching police sirens and far-off voices from the confused and scared gala attendees.
With a sigh, Dick looked down at the boy in his arms, passed out cold. “Oh, Peter,” Dick mumbled to himself. “What am I going to do with you?”
“If you don’t put me down, I swear to God I will tell Bruce that safehouse you like on 6th street and stage it so that there are framed pictures of the two of you in there, complete with a journal in your handwriting about how much you miss him, and I promise that he will not leave you alone until the two of you have hugged it out and talked all about your feelings. Then, when you’re not looking, I’ll shoot your kneecaps out with your own gun, so you can’t run away and have to lie there and take it.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jason replied. “Could you be any more dramatic? We’re basically at the Cave already, keep your pants on for two seconds.”
Tim kicked him harshly in the stomach, making the man grunt. “Fine, fine, I’ll let you go. Just give me a second.”
They’d entered through an entrance in the woods behind the Manor, far away from the prying eyes of anyone who had been present at the gala. Jason hadn’t budged at all, no matter what Tim had threatened him with so far, and he had a fairly creative list of ways to get back at Jason given a moment’s notice.
Finally, Jason dropped him, and Tim stepped away, brushing off his suit while shooting the man a look. “Was that so hard?”
“You know, I would be thanking me, if I were you. With how hard you’re shaking, I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to climb down by yourself.”
“What are you talking about?” Tim asked, and Jason just looked at him unamused.
“Do you think I’m blind or something?”
“I don’t—” he started, confused, but when Tim raised his hands to brush his hair out of his face, he realized they were shaking. As the adrenaline was beginning to fade from his system, his chest felt tight, and Tim pressed his hand over his heart as he tried to take a deep breath. Tim turned away from Jason as he tried to get his face under control, even as he could feel his pulse racing and his breaths felt like they were getting stuck in his throat.
“Tim? I was mostly joking before, are you okay?”
He placed a hand out against the wall of the tunnel to steady himself, silently cursing in his head. Tim was trying to get himself to focus, to clear his mind, but every time he did, all he could think about was Peter begging and shaking underneath him. Ever since they’d met, Tim had known something had been up with the other boy, something personal. Time and time again, he’d seen Peter struggle, with bruises and a starved frame hidden behind worn, cheap clothes, and he hadn’t done a thing about it. Instead, he’d gone back to the Manor, living lavishly while Peter had been suffering. Tim was a goddamn superhero and he’d done nothing.
“Tim,” Jason repeated, taking a step closer and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”
Moving harshly away, Tim tried to speak, but it felt like there was no air in his lungs. He leaned heavily against the wall, and Tim slid down into a crouch on the hard ground. “I’m—I’m fine,” Tim wheezed out, and Jason looked down at him with an incredulous expression.
“Sure you are,” Jason replied sarcastically. He didn’t immediately say anything else, though, instead moving to Tim’s side and sliding down himself, letting out a heavy sigh when he hit the ground. His helmet came off with a click as he scrubbed his hand harshly against his jaw. “I’m sure people who randomly collapse in tunnels are perfectly okay, nothing going on at all.”
“Shut up, Jason,” Tim managed, placing his head between his knees in the fetal position.
“Is there something you’d rather talk about?” Jason replied sarcastically, but it seemed serious as the silence continued. Tim tried to respond again, but his breaths were coming too fast for him to get a word out. “Do you want me to go get Steph or Duke? Cass?” He hesitated for a moment. “I mean, I guess if you really wanted, I could go get Bruce?”
“No! Don’t—don’t.”
“Okay,” Jason replied, sounding a little bewildered. The man unsheathed one of his guns, fiddling with the ammo, releasing it from the magazine clip, and popping it back in. “I never would’ve imagined I’d ever end up here, especially after the whole, ya know, trying to kill you thing. Or that I would ever be hanging around the Demon brat, and I haven’t even tried to murder him yet. And trust me, it’s been close a few times. God, you should’ve heard how he was talking to me earlier during the gala, sometimes he is so much like Bruce that it takes all my willpower not to shoot him right then and there.”
Jason continued to ramble on, a background of sound that Tim could focus on. He let the words wash over him, closing his eyes as he dug his fingernails into his palms, telling himself to calm down. Objectively, everything was fine; Tim was just being dramatic. Peter was going to be fine with Dick.
Tim’s head snapped up, realization making his worries momentarily fade away. Jason was still prattling on, very pointedly not looking at Tim, instead still messing with the gun in his hands. “What I said was true earlier, usually normal people don’t punch me in the helmet, cause they’re not fucking idiots. I couldn’t even tell you the last time someone tried to take a swing at my head that wasn’t a villain with some insane superpowers—”
“Jason, what were you saying before?”
For a moment, Jason seemed surprised, his blue-green eyes flickering up and down Tim, but he didn’t voice any confusion. “When before? I don’t know if you’ve been listening, but I’ve kind of been talking for a second.”
“On the roof,” Tim started, his mind racing. “Dick knows Peter as Nightwing?”
“Of course he does,” Jason responded slowly, looking bewildered. “Dick is obsessed with the kid, not that I blame him. I mean, anyone who can take down the Joker is okay in my book.”
“Take down the Joker?” he gaped, having to turn away from Jason to put his head in his hands. “That’s Joker kid? The one who keeps running away from Dick?”
“Of course it is.” Jason leaned back and looked at Tim again, concern making his brow furrow. “Okay, now we’re actually going to the Cave to get you checked out.”
Tim didn’t even put up a fight this time, just let Jason pull him to his feet and guide him back towards the Cave, the man keeping one hand on his shoulder like he was afraid Tim was going to collapse at any given moment. Which, honestly, wasn’t completely out of the question. He had been so busy trying to track down his own Peter that he had almost completely ignored all of Dick’s requests with Joker kid. If Tim had looked into that for more than two minutes, he undoubtedly would’ve realized those two were the same person. That meant that Dick and Jason could help him figure out what was going on, that he didn’t have to look after Peter only with Steph and Duke’s help anymore.
Then Tim stopped again as his brain finally caught up. Dick clearly felt some affinity towards Peter, and it was rare for Jason to like any random kid, much less be involved in their life. If they both discovered Peter was the one taking the pictures of them, there was no telling what their reactions would be, especially from Jason. Dick and Jason could both be the type to hold grudges, and it was likely that Peter didn’t grasp just how important it was that he had managed to get a picture of the two of them. Granted, Tim had done the same, but he hadn’t immediately turned around and sold them to a newspaper.
Tim knew the reality of Peter’s life, at least the little that the other boy had shown him. If Tim had to guess, he’d say those pictures were the only way that Peter was supporting himself. It was something Peter felt he had to do, survival instincts that Tim could logically understand. But there was no guarantee the other two would be logical, or that they wouldn’t turn against Peter in that moment. Alternatively, if Tim could get Peter to stop taking pictures, he could reveal that Peter went to his school, and together they could look into his background and whoever this ‘Tony’ was that he had been pleading with.
But that meant he’d have to take care of Damian somehow, convince him not to tell them that Peter was the photographer. Steph and Duke, too, but they would understand. And Dick would look into how Peter came to the party, but there was no official invitation for him on file, so unless he asked Peter himself there would be no way for him to find out. Besides the security footage picturing them together, which was easy enough for Tim to take care of.
Damian had announced that Tim was close with the photographer, even dancing with him. If Tim told them that he’d been the one who invited Peter, they’d inevitably discover he was the photographer. Same if he told them that Peter went to his school, it wouldn’t be too much of a leap of logic to discover again that Tim invited him to the gala. But they’d eventually find out where Peter went to Gotham Academy, so how could Tim explain why he hadn’t revealed it without giving away that Peter was also the photographer? If he claimed he hadn’t known that Peter was the Joker Peter, what other explanation would he have for recognizing and helping him on the roof? He could play into the concussion to explain it to Jason in the tunnel or on the roof, but that wouldn’t explain why he knew him before. There would again be an undeniable link between the two of them, revealing that Peter had taken that picture.
There were too many moving pieces in front of him, and too many variables that weren’t accounted for. Tim could either be over or underestimating Dick and Peter's relationship, and there was a chance he wouldn’t care about the pictures, or conversely that Dick would think Peter was exploiting him for money. His hands itched for pen and paper or laptop keys, somewhere where he could write everything down and plan it all out. He also needed to talk to Steph and Duke as soon as possible, as they might know something he didn’t.
Either way, he couldn’t tell Jason everything right now. Peter might reveal everything to Dick once questioned, and Tim needed to be prepared with different avenues to take with exactly how much they discovered. There was no time to waste, and Tim wouldn't make the same mistakes he had previously. Tim was going to do this right, not let Peter down again. He was going to figure this out, no matter what it took.
“Tim? Timothy? Hello? Can you hear me?”
Snapping back into reality, Tim flinched away from Jason before realizing he had just come to a stop in the middle of the tunnel.
“Sorry, I’m good, we can keep going.”
Tim marched forward with determined steps, leaving Jason behind. After a moment, Jason caught back up to him, biting the inside of his lip as he examined Tim out of the corner of his eye. He waited for Jason to say something to explain the face he was making, but the man just squared his jaw and turned forward, continuing the walk to the Cave in silence. They walked for about two minutes before the Cave came into sight, the mouth of the tunnel opening to the enormous space, and Jason stopped before they walked into view.
Unconsciously, Tim paused as well, mimicking Jason. The man was staring at him, making harsh eye contact with some unreadable emotion stirring behind his irises.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you,” Jason started, and Tim felt himself bristle at the insinuation. “But I understand why you wouldn’t want to tell me, once again with the whole trying to murder you and everything. But you have friends here, a team, and beyond that, you have a family. Even if you don’t want to talk to your Titans or whatever, I can’t even begin to think of something you could get yourself into that Steph and Duke wouldn’t follow immediately, or that could scare Cass off. Dick loves you like his brother, and for all of his issues, Damian does too, in his own weird, fucked up way. And Bruce would probably kill someone for you if it really came down to it.”
The deeper meaning of the last sentence didn’t go unrealized by Tim, and a small part of him felt an almost greedy pleasure, that Jason truly thought Bruce loved Tim in a way that he didn’t love Jason, when for most of Tim’s life he’d felt like a shallow replacement of the older man. But still, Tim didn’t agree, saying, “Jason—”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain anything to me,” Jason told him, looking down at his boots as he scuffed his toe against the floor, shoving his hands into his pockets. “But this is how Bruce fucks up, thinking he’s the only one who can deal with all the evils of the world, and you’ve seen what it does to him. All I ever hear is how smart you are, Tim, and you know better than that.”
Tim wanted to tell him that was exactly why he couldn’t tell him, because it was Tim’s job to hold everything together, to keep in the dark what the others didn’t want to see. But that was what had gotten them into this mess in the first place, the reason he’d even invited Peter in the first place. He’d thought he’d been smart enough to make it through the night, but all he’d done was get Peter fear gassed and almost outed by Damian as the photographer, and now he didn’t even have a clue where Peter was.
“I understand,” Tim told him seriously, trying to clear any traitorous emotions from his face.
Jason studied him for another moment before turning away, and Tim couldn’t tell if the man believed him or not. “I hope you do.”
As soon as they came into view, they saw Steph and Duke, both dressed haphazardly in their costumes. Duke didn’t have his helmet on, and his gloves and his utility belt were missing, while Steph’s hair was down and her face was vacant of their trademark domino mask. Steph had big slippers on and was sitting in their chair in front of the Batcomputer, he knees drawn to her chest as she seemed to be arguing passionately with Duke.
“I understand, but—” her eyes grew wide, and she shot to her feet when she saw them, the chair spinning behind Steph at the force she used. “Jason! Tim!”
Duke turned too, and Tim caught a glimpse of a guilty look on his face before it cleared, and he nodded at the two of them. “Where were you guys?” Duke asked, before he zeroed in on Tim’s face. “Tim, what happened to you? I thought you were supposed to be helping with civilians?”
“Let’s just say some civilians are harder to handle than others,” Jason drawled, walking carelessly past the two of them. The casual tone with which the man spoke stood in harsh contrast to the softness that had been in his voice when they talked moments before.
“Yeah, something like that,” Tim added, going over and standing with Steph and Duke.
Jason popped his helmet off and tossed it carelessly in his locker, and Tim heard the jingle of what sounded like car keys. “Okay, losers, I’ve got somewhere to be. One of you, give Tim a once over and a concussion check cause he got his shit rocked. Besides that, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. See you later.”
“Don’t you murder people?” Steph called after him, but all that she got in response was the revving of a motorcycle and the sound of one of the far garages opening.
“Are you okay?” Duke asked, reaching out and gently grabbing Tim by the chin and turning his head, exposing the bruise on his cheek to the light.
“I’m fine,” Tim said, smacking his hand away.
“A civilian did this?” Steph added, coming to take a step closer and peering at his face. “And you let them?”
“It was Peter,” Tim replied, and they both gasped.
“What? Peter did that? What do you mean?” Steph questioned.
“It’s not important!” Tim snapped, and they both reeled back a little in surprise. “We need to talk.”
“Yeah, we do,” Duke said, and Steph nodded along with him. “We, uh, learned something at the gala.”
“Peter is Joker Peter!” Steph blurted out, before slapping her hands over his mouth as Duke let out a sigh and shook his head.
“Steph, I thought the plan was to ease him into it.”
“I’m sorry, I got excited! Besides, you know, Tim would just want you to tell him straight up.”
“Okay, well, it’s a little bit of big news! Besides, out of all of us it would affect Tim the most, they’re the closest, so I was going to be cautious!”
Tim actively chose not to question Duke on that last part, and inhaled deeply as he massaged his forehead with his fingers. He didn’t think he had a concussion or anything like that, but Peter was far from weak. Between getting thrown against the hard tiles and punched, his whole body and his face ached.
“Guys, I already know,” Tim told them, “I just found out. We have a lot we need to talk about.”
“We do?” Steph asked, sounding cautious.
“We need a plan,” Tim said, and Steph groaned loudly while Duke collapsed into the chair, shaking his head.
“God, I hate it when you say that,” Duke moaned, looking away from Tim. “Your plans are always batshit crazy and too complicated for me to understand or even begin to disagree with.”
“How illegal is this one?” Steph mumbled, her head in her hands. “Not that I won’t do if it is illegal, cause pretty much all your plans are, but I want to start mentally preparing now.”
“Nothing like that,” Tim shot back, slightly offended. “Not all of my plans are illegal, but that’s besides the point. It does require a decent amount of lying though, and if Dick, Jason, or Bruce find out we will undoubtedly be fucked. Like, beyond any point that we can possibly come back from, so it’s in our best interest that they never find out.”
“You know, whatever it is, we’re going to do it,” Steph sighed. “You might as well come out with it.”
“If you guys are sure,” Tim began, and Steph rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. Okay, I think I know what we need to do.”