Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Scars fade- but even then sometimes when you look, you can tell exactly where it used to be. That reminder now only held in memories instead of a physical sign.

Because that's what they are, reminders. Of simple accidents, dumb mistakes, and sometimes things better left forgotten outside the mark it's made.

Tim was used to his patchwork skin, he was practically an SFX master by the time he'd become Red Robin. But on his team, or with his fellow heroes, he didn't dare cover them. Scars in their line of work were marks of honor, of battles well fought, and things they survived when they really shouldn't have.

Coming back- he lost so much, but losing his scars had been especially unsettling. Being robbed of the body he lived but would never have again. Sometimes when he traced his skin, it was almost as if a phantom of a mark was still there.

In this life, each scar he gained was almost a comfort- knowing he could still get them at all. That he was still alive, and healing.

At least, that was what was on his mind, tracing the slightly raised scar on his thigh from the champagne glasses, stitches now just removed. It still stung just a little, but that too would fade.

“There you go, you’re all fixed up,” Leslie hummed as she rolled her chair back, pushing her glasses up after examining the scar.

Tim blinked, finding his way back into his own mind and then met her watchful gaze with a smirk.

He threw his head back, hand on his forehead. “Tell me doc- how long do I have?"

She just rolled her eyes as she began cleaning up the small exam room in the back of the clinic. “You'll be fine- thankfully, but you're lucky the glass didn't hit a major artery.”

Lucky- always lucky.
“Well what can I say, I'm a lucky lucky man.”

Leslie stood up from her chair, bracing on her knees as she walked over, a lollipop in hand. Tim reached out to grab it but instead was hit on his forehead.

His hand shot up, pouting out his lip as she lowered her head to stare him in the eyes. “You're a lucky fool that's what you are-” she said, pressing the lollipop into his palm.

Tim ignored her comment as he undid the wrapper and popped the red sphere into his mouth, rolling it across his tongue. “Oh come on what's got you in a sour mood- not happy to see your favorite patient?"

That got a small smirk from Leslie who just shook her head “Favorite pain in my ass more like- but it seems all my favorites keep showing up more and more.”

Tim paused- fuck had things really gotten that bad in his absence? He assumed the bats had picked up the slack- they always did when he disappeared normally.

Even if they hadn't, crime had been down for a bit- he hasn't bothered to look into why.

Was it a cover up?
Had he missed something?
Fuck fuck fuck he needed to get back out now.

Tim was snapped out by a sharp twinge on his cheek, blinking as Leslie released her small pinch. “No wandering off while I'm talking to you young man, are you sure you don't have a concussion?"

“Nope you cleared me after the gala and doctors orders, no other incidents.”

Leslie raised a brow. “You actually followed through?"

“Of course-” He said, slightly accosted.

Leslie just sighed, a sound that held many years and many more responsibilities. “As a doctor you are cleared-” That sounded like a “but.

“But-” Called it. “- As one of my favorite pains in my ass, an all clear also means to still take it easy for a bit, understood?”

Tim nodded, standing up and grabbing his bag- his Alan wig still half stuffed inside. Maybe he had time to drop by before heading into the office and later he could go out as normal with-

Leslie grabbed his hand, so gentle it made Tim freeze up by mere instinct as he turned to her. Eyes filled with an emotion he didn't want to comprehend.
“Tim… promise me you'll take care of yourself.”

“For once?" he joked, trying a smile, but she didn't laugh.

Tim sighed, his shoulders dropping as he turned to face her completely. His hand still in her own, it was warm. “I promise I'll do my best.”

Leslie shook her head, but he could see the ghost of a smirk as she patted his hand. “That's all I ask-”

He waited until she was the one who let go, her hand falling to rest against the off white of her doctor's coat.

Despite being at the clinic almost every hour, it was always expertly pressed. Tim was half convinced she had an ironing board stashed away somewhere he'd yet to find.

Leslie stepped away, walking over to the door and ready to leave so Tim could do his back hall escape.

But right as she left Tim took one step forward, the noise of his shoe against linoleum making her pause and look back at him just a moment.

Tim wrung his hand against the strap of his bag. “See you soon?"

“Ha-” Leslie smirked, pointing a finger at his chest. “Let's hope not too soon.”

Tim nodded as the door closed shut behind her, the room now bathed in artificial blue light. The responsible thing would be to enjoy his day off and spend the afternoon relaxing at the cafe.

It would be easy, to make that call, follow through on his promise to Leslie.

Tim paused as he heard a small sound.
tap,tap,tap

He turned to the skylight window- a familiar silhouette casting a shadow into the room.

Wisp tilted her head, one eye peering down at him and fluffing up her feathers, as if ready for flight, but she didn't leave yet. A bird goes with the flock after all.

Tim chuckled, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth and tossing it into the can in one smooth motion as he yanked open the outside door.

A small whistle sounded as he felt Wisp settle down on his shoulder. She let out a happy coo, nestling into the side of his neck as he stroked her chin.

It would be easy- but he couldn't take it if someone got hurt because he was ‘taking it easy.’

Besides- he’d promised a lot of things in life, but one thing many people learned the hard
way- Tim always found a loophole.

__________________________________________________

The city breathed as its residents slumbered, each tucked away safe. Others, well, they came alive during the night- and not always for the right reasons.

Arthur wasn't from Gotham- he didn't know each alley and its residents by heart, he couldn't identify a toxin by the smell of the wind, and worse, he couldn't filter between the normal city noise and a threat.

An outsider's weakness. He swore people could tell, and one thing that had gotten his ass handed to him many times. All the more reason he should’ve packed his bags and went back home years ago.

But hell- what kinda job would accept a guy who dropped out of high school and whose job references were gangsters?

It was supposed to be an easy shift- but one thing he'd learned since ending up in this damned place, nothing was ever easy.

It was all hands on deck for the latest shipment overseas, drugs not people- he was a degenerate but not a monster.

But of course as soon as they'd almost wrapped up, he saw his buddies stiffen up just mere moments before the skylight shattered.

It was chaos.

The way Batman jumped in and out of shadows taking down each goon with such precise ease was terrifying. Even more so compared to the fact he kept vanishing even when looking right at him.

Not even two steps behind stood Robin with a sharp tongue and sharper blade who wouldn't hesitate to use either, already bolting towards his first victim as they both managed to cut their crew in half.

The other half quickly ran to the supply room- Arthur in tow as they tried to salvage what they could.

But as soon as he heard the gleeful cackle and saw a flash of dark blue, he jumped away- right as a row of crates came toppling down on half of the crew.

Standing on top was Bluejay.

He made a show of popping the collar of his leather jacket, a wicked grin only half covered by the dark blue almost black helmet that was strikingly similar to the Bat himself except without the pointed ears.

Tufts of black curls waved as he leaped onto the ground, a bat in hand as he swung at a set of pipes and bathed the room in smoke.

“SHIT-” Another guy called out right before he was hurled across the room and barely past him.

Arthur fought his way past the fog, barely dodging a swing from Bluejay’s bat as he advanced to another group.

He and another pair managed to make it to the supply room itself and barely had a glance of relief before Nightwing came careening down from the rafters and all but crashed on his coworker.

Crashed if it wasn't for the practiced ease he landed and flipped the man over his shoulders, into his partner and crashed them both into another row of crates.

“Appreciate the soft landing!” Nightwing jeered before flipping aside towards yet another poor soul.

Call em a coward- but Arthur knew he would be just another number to the booking list that night if he didn't find a way out and now. There was no respect for deserters, but hell if he cared if these people respected him.

So he did what any sane man would do, hiding in the smoke from the busted pipes. He grabbed a duffle bag loaded with enough blocks to get him several month's rent and booked it.

“Fuckin hell-” Arthur wheezed.

Well- at least now the only screaming was coming from his legs as he sprinted across the far side of the warehouse district.

Arthur continued to push until it felt like his limbs would fall off if he continued much further. His back pressed against the inner wall of a hopefully abandoned shipping container, he let himself breathe.

Of course every breath was almost drowned out by the lapping of waves as the harbor crashed against the concrete walls nearby.

Well- this was far from the best. But it could tide him over until sunrise- then he could take his stash back to his apartment and figure it out from there. Just needed to avoid a bat.

He reached into his side pocket and pulled out a small blade. A butterfly knife, a gift from his cousin a while back. He'd been so proud to show off all his tricks.

Flipping the knife, the blade glinted slightly and the weight was comforting in his hand.

It wasn't a gun- but he wasn't really looking to kill.

Arthur sat there for a while, the wisps of sleep beginning to crawl into his mind and try to bury his thoughts, but he fought to stay coherent.

Then again, who would find him? Bats were too busy dealing with the rest of the crew- they wouldn't care about one guy who slipped away.

A sound from the edge of the container had Arthur sit up with a start, knife in hand and ready to fight tooth and nail.

But instead of some druggie sniffing out their next fix it was-

“A fucking pigeon?" he whispered to himself, staring at the bird who stared back.

It ruffled its feathers, wings puffing slightly as it scratched at the dirt below. Damm fucking thing gave him half a heart attack. What was it even doing so far from downtown? He'd expect a seagull or something.

The bird continued to look at him- taking a few shuffling steps forward. It paused, examining him, and then let out a coo that echoed off the walls and dug straight into his skull.

It continued to coo and chirp and rustle. It was just a damn bird- he should care less, but dammit was it annoying and, well, Arthur didn't much want the company right now.

He adjusted his elbow and in one fluid blow, chunked the knife at the floor just next to the bird.

The knife hit and clattered to the bottom, the sound ringing out inside the container as in a flurry of feathers the bird took off and into the distance.

“Finally-” Arthur sighed, standing to his knees and leaving the bag further inside the container as he walked over to fetch his knife.

Just his luck anyways, getting startled by a damn bird. But thankfully now it was quiet, except for the sounds of the city and its harbor of course.

But right as he picked up his knife-

A sound cut through the noise, a sharp clicking as something scraped against the outside of the container. It made him freeze on instinct, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

Quietly as he could, he raced back to the bag, knife in hand. Sweaty palms clutched to the strap of the bag as his eyes darted around wildly, he could feel his heartbeat in his chest.

But the sound had ceased. Damnit- Gotham noise had him on edge.

It was fine, no one was really-

What was?-

The sound drew closer, repeating, always a beat of three as it echoed into nothingness.

Scraping against the outside metal sheet started up once more, the occasional tinking over grooves made it sound like claws being dragged across.

Arthur’s chest seized, one hand reluctantly releasing the bag as he instead covered his own mouth.

He didn't dare make a sound, hopefully whoever or whatever it was would move on, and soon.

Then as before- they stopped.
.
.
.
The silence was scarier than the noise.

But he looked at the end of the container, nothing but rolling fog and the vague outline of the city in sight. Could he risk it? Better to run and hope his legs carry him then risk being trapped.

Arthur stood up, muscles tensing, he could feel the sharp sting in his jaw from just how he was clenching his teeth.

Slowly, he wrapped the duffle bag strap over his shoulder and began to take slow shuffling steps closer towards the light.

He shuffled, then paused.
Listening.
Waiting.
But it never started up again.

It felt like time warped as he finally drew closer to the edge, moonlight peering through the clouds smiling onto his face. He looked around; it looked clear.

Then, in one rare moment of bravery, he took a step out, whipping his head to where he last heard the sound and… nothing. Not even a stray cat.

Arthur let out a huff, his breath joining the fog from the harbor as he beat himself for getting so worked up. He'd survived this long anyways.

Gripping tightly onto the strap, he turned- ready to make his way to somewhere else or bear the trip back to his place, better than whatever the fuck that was returning.

One step- and then

He spun around, almost tripping over himself as he peered at the top of the storage container. As soon as his vision focused, he felt his heart drop.

Perched on top, silver claw-like hands gripped onto the edge with force, its legs half hung over the side and yet balanced perfectly.

The dual long winding crimson cloths, waved in the wind, seeming slower than the breeze itself and yet staying afloat.

Arthur could recognize it as humanoid, sure- somebody in a costume, he could see the belts and the staff clutched against those jagged silver claws. But looking at its face- god its face.

It was a mask, one resembling a plague doctor, a modern iteration at least- a symbol of pestilence with those red glass eyes that almost shined as it tilted its head from under the hood.

He knew who- no what- this was. And it was no Bat.

The Cardinal jerked its head aside, the clicking sound emitting once more alongside an eerie humming, almost like a birdsong but distorted and wrong.

One of its hands loosened its grip, instead tapping its claws against the edge of the crate.

A small ting ting ting ting sounding out as it slowly connected each finger with a metal scrape.

Arthur couldn't take it, he wanted to run but he knew damn well he wouldn't be fast enough. He had long since abandoned the wisdom of his mother, the words that bore into his skin and left their mark- and yet their message remained.

He was not a religious man, and yet when faced with the devil he resisted the urge to beg to a being who he had long since fallen out of favor with.

“Begone foul beast, you have no power here!!" Arthur yelled, pointing his knife up. But his normally booming voice fell short against the silent figure still perched, still clicking its claws against the metal.

To his horror, it straightened, drawing its legs tight as it stood atop the box. Casting a shadow down upon him as its torn cape continued to whip around from the breeze.

“A Beast you say?" Its voice echoed, modulated of course, yet nonetheless it sent another chill up his spine.

“You-” Arthur's throat tightened as the words struggled to fight their way through his panic.

“Me?" The Cardinal parroted, and he could practically feel the wicked grin under that mask.

A whistle of wings sounded out and Arthur dared to tear his gaze away from the figure and over to the powerline that stood just far enough from the harbor to be in code.

Perched on top, half a dozen birds- pigeons, gulls, crows, others he didn't even recognize from just the glance he took.

They were all staring, expecting, probably to feast in what remained of his soul when this thing was finished with him. No man met Cardinal and returned to the force the same, if at all.

He wasn't a lucky man, but he'd be damned if he didn't take that chance while he still had it. “What- do you want?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, and faster than his mind could comprehend the motion, Cardinal had leapt down and landed on the crate below. It approached, now just a few feet away from Arthur.

“I… want?" The Cardinal parrotted again, before leaning forward just a tad. “What.. you have.. to give-”

What the ever loving fuck did that mean? Arthur’s grip tightened on the duffle anxiously and oh.

“You- you want fuckin drugs? You- you robbin me?" Arthur blinked, his grip tightening even more, though now on the hilt of his knife.

Cardinal tapped its silver claws against the side of its thigh and like a magic trick he'd seen as a kid, a small cylinder sprung into an impressive staff. It was dark, almost rusted looking, and yet he knew to be wary of it.

“Tainted-” Cardinal said, pointing at the bag. “Was.. trap, let me take… you- go home”

The humming he hadn't realized was there ceased as it- they said, words like a promise. Their staff was out- and yet Arthur didn't feel like it was a bomb about to go off. But how could he trust them?

“The fuck you mean it was a trap? Who the hell would poison an entire metric ton of crack, you'd kill all your buyers!" Arthur protested, unconsciously taking a half step towards Cardinal.

“Not from Gotham… death.. To some worth it- remove competition.”

Arthur looked at the bag, it had several pounds, enough to split and sell for thousands to hundreds of people. It would keep him fed and housed for months.

But if this fucker was right- it would kill all of the poor saps he sold to.

Fuck.

Cardinal took half a step forward and Arthur held his knife out again, the comforting weight felt heavy.

With a magnet click, the staff was stuck, fully extended, onto their side. Silver claws lifted up, hands passively in the air as red glass stared him down.
“You.. good man- not want… on conscience.”

Arthur laughed, a bitter sound as his knuckles were turning white. “A good man? You don’t even fucking know me.”

“You trying.” Cardinal said, like it wasn't a question “Arthur… Mullins… From Chicago- you come Gotham… why?"

Arthur stared them down, he didn't have to answer- he knew that. Fuck, he was just tired. “I-”

He looked down at the bag, and no longer was it an easy pay day. It was just a burden, and just as rotten as the rest of Gotham made him. He didn't care if Cardinal was lying at this point, he just wanted..

“I don't know anymore.”

Arthur swung his arm, and let go. The duffle bag fell at Cardinal’s feet as he flicked the knife open, swinging it over his fingers as it snapped shut with a loud metal click.

“I'm not a good man,” Arthur said. It wasn't a question. “But I don't want anyone dyin just cuz I’m too stubborn”

Cardinal snapped their staff off the side and lifted up the duffle bag strap, silently inspecting the contents before slinging it over their shoulder. They looked at Arthur, unblinking.

And in a blink, Cardinal was mere inches away- silver claws wrapped around something, beckoning.

Hell- what else did he have to lose?
Arthur held his hand out.

The claws felt cold as they pressed against his hand, but they moved with a level of care he hadn't felt in a long time. Then all at once, pulled away.

“Hard but need- Keep… trying-” Cardinal’s voice echoed.

Arthur examined the blank crumpled paper in his hand, looking up to ask one of the dozens of questions he still had only for- nothing.

He was alone. His eyes darted up to the wire and most of the birds had all but departed. Except for a lone Pigeon, the same one he'd scared off- and by its side, a bright red Cardinal.

Arthur uncrumpled the paper and did his best to process the words.
It was a number, a support group for ex criminals, and a list of businesses that would take in people even with his record.

He paused, rereading the paper over and over as if one more time and the contents would change, but no, there it was. Resources, a way out of this hell he'd made for himself.

Because for some fucking reason that being saw something he didn’t see in himself.

Arthur turned to the harbor, the waves seeming quieter now. “Hell… what do I have to lose?"

With a final flick of his knife, he slipped it back into his jacket pocket, and began the long walk back to the bus station. He was ready to enjoy a warm bed, and for once- be brave enough to face tomorrow.

_________________________________________________________________

Cardinal watched as the man disappeared into the distant fog washing on land from the harbor. And the night went quiet once more.

They reached into their side pockets and pulled out a handful of bird seed. A quick jerk of silver claws scattered across the roof to the small flock had gathered. Most eagerly dove in to enjoy the treats, the crows especially going after the sunflower seeds they'd added in with the colder weather.

Dusting off their hands they leaned over the side of the building, feeling gravity shift as they let themself drop.

Wind around them whistled as it battered around the long crimson strips of cape falling behind them like tattered wings. The sound only crescendoed as the ground grew closer, and all went silent.

The world around them slowed, and moonlight glinted off the grapple gun as it fired off, hooking onto a crane as they soared.

They flew, riding each powerful whip of metal cord and letting their non-existent wings carry them up and away as the sounds of the sea faded, replaced with the bustling of the Gotham streets below.

One extra hard push, they leapt from the side of a metal scaffolding, setting the grapple onto their hip. Claws clicked together and a small whirring sound started up- and in one swift descent their hands shot out and stuck against the side of the building.

Gravity continued to weigh as they scaled the building with ease, magnetic clicks sounding as they reached the top.

They swung their body over the edge, stretching like a cat as their claws dug into stone and hefted them up. Satisfied, they perched on the edge- the sounds of Gotham slipping away as the upper air chill took hold.

“Coo?" A flutter of wings as Wisp perched on their shoulder, barely
hesitating to grab onto the scarf wrappings around their neck. She made quick work of maneuvering the fabric until she could comfortably nestle against their neck.

With a sigh Cardinal reached up and under the jaw of their mask, flicking a small switch. Their hand came back down and moved one of the cape tails to cover Wisp.

“Here you go girl, help with the chill-” Tim's voice came through, quiet but there. “Even though you can’t even feel the cold.”

Wisp, not caring for his sound argument nipped at the edge of his clawed gloves and burrowed further into the fabric.

Tim rolled his eyes, lifting his wrist as he pried up one of the armor straps and revealed his screen. The tips of his clawed gloves folded back as he began to quickly type in information, a quick mission summary report for his own files and to reference when he wrote his note dropping the whole duffle bag of poisoned drugs at GCPD headquarters.

The Bats seemed to handle the rest of the supply and from his own surveillance no one else had come within his area. Of course anyone else sneaking away wouldn't be a problem since those cams wouldn't be shut down from his tech.

But all in all- pretty good night. He just hoped that guy took his advice. It was a wonder he'd recognized him, but seeing that face again after seeing it only once before, in a back room of a coroner's office after an entire crew was killed after a rival sabotage.

He hoped he made it this time around…

With a moment to rest he quickly went over his supplies, a few smoke bombs short, some ball bearings, and- dammit his spare rebreather was busted, then again it was his spare- and he had the one installed in his mask.

Tim typed a note on his computer but paused as a small light caught his eye. He glanced up and oh it was sunrise.

He carefully nudged the scarf, earning an annoyed chirp from Wisp as she poked her head out. “Check all assets, No Bats within what region?"

Wisp paused, cocking her head and then a small automated voice called out

Perfect.

Tim did once final glance around, a final check he was alone. Then again who else besides a bat would be on the top of a giant building in old Gotham.

Bracing himself on the edge of his third favorite Gargoyle, Tim was careful not to jostle Wisp as he moved closer to the edge and let his legs dangle off.

Moving his hands under the jaw of his mask, and with a quick click, hisssss he pulled away the doctor's mask.

The cold air hit him as he stretched his jaw. His eyes adjusting to the sky without a red filter over them. He still wore a mask on the lower half of his face, the rest covered in eye black. But it felt nice without the extra layer.

crunch

He froze- A breath, and the unmistakable sound of gravel shuffling.
Tim yanked his mask back in place, bo staff ready as he whipped around to face the rest of the roof.

Only to find- oh

Tim lowered his mask, looking at the small gathering of birds that had seemed to follow him from the docks. They always seemed to flock around him eh?

Most weren't even his birds. But then he started carrying seed around and well-

“Take your treat you brats,” Tim huffed, dumping what was left in his seed pocket and scattering it behind him, letting the birds enjoy.

A flutter of wings as they each began to dig in. Wisp stayed put, she knew she’d get corn at home, so she stayed contently huddled inside the wrappings of his scarf.

With that he settled back down onto the stone edge, feet dangling as he stared out at the city skyline, sun just beginning to peak up the distance and drown out the cloudy moon.

Tim reached under his scarf, pulling a clasp off his armor chest and lifting out a small box. He pressed the sides which expanded as he adjusted the lens on the small camera.

He lifted the camera to his face, eyes adjusting as he framed it to the Gotham sunrise, a flock of birds coming in from the distance as the city was beginning to wake up once more.

Tim pressed the button, and the image was marked in more than just his memories.