Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wind screamed past Tim’s ear as he raced on his motorcycle to the warehouse he’d tracked the drug bust to. He’d just decoded the last information he’d needed to locate the warehouse, and it took a little longer than he’d been expecting.

So, unfortunately for him, Tim was on a little bit more of a time crunch then he usually was. Tim glanced down at his watch as the children across the street tucked further into the alley, peeking from around the corner in awe at Robin as he sped past.

12:38 am, July 19th

Shit. The deal was supposed to go down in 10 minutes and Tim was still 5 minutes out. I won’t have time to do a sweep of the building. Hoping to buy a little more time, Tim accelerated the bike as fast as it would go and leaned in further.

As he sped closer to the docks where the warehouse sat, Tim went over the details of the case in his head again. There had been chatter of a shipment of something new hitting the streets of Gotham, something even Black Mask and his goons wouldn’t even touch.

That meant there was a new player in town, someone that had the skills to keep his data locked away where no one could touch it. That is, everyone except Oracle.

Barbara had been doing some digging for the Birds of Prey and had found the location of where the deal was supposed to take place. Given that she’d been busy with more important things, she’d passed along the information to Tim to deal with.

In addition to the location and time, Tim had discovered that the drug was a psychedelic called Vex, and the results it yielded were highly unpredictable. The least you’d get was a major trip to la la land. Majority of its users got a painful death to go along with it, but the worst was something that made death seem preferable to.

Tim shuddered as he remembered opening the pictures and reading reports of people who’d been rendered catatonic or comatose, their bodies only retaining enough of the nutrients they were given to survive and would expel anything more.

The skin wrapped so tight around their bones it looked like they’d been vacuum sealed. Eyes you could see a conscious person in, trapped helplessly in a dying body.

Whoever the hell this ringleader is, they must be an absolute monster. Even someone as fucked up as Black Mask won’t touch whatever they’re doing, Tim thought as he finally rounded the corner near the back of the warehouse, quickly cutting the engine and stashing the bike in the alley. After a glance at the area, Tim quietly dashed through the back doors.
Creeping along the dark walls, he saw no one down stairs, so he continued up to the next floor. As he made it to the second floor landing, Tim heard voices coming from a slightly ajar door at the end of the hall.

Apparently no one’s heard of proper security protocol, Tim snarked, albeit in his head, as he hugged the walls, slowly inching towards the door.

“I’m jus’ sayin, if I’m buyin’ whatcha sellin’, I’m gonna need a little bit of a demonstration, ya hear me?” An annoying, slightly nasal voice spoke. Whoever it was was male, and by the way he spoke, was either unaware of who he was speaking to or thought himself the bigger dog.

“Very well then, if you’re so eager to get on with this,” Another voice drawls, neither distinctly male or female. Tim pulled his cape tighter around his form, trying to blend in with his darker surroundings as much as he could.

He’d gotten close enough to glance through the crack that had been left in the door and could see the two people he’d heard speaking along with others accompanying them on each side.

The man who’d spoken first looked to be about 5’5” and in his mid 20s, with mousy brown hair and a bit of an overbite. He had two men flanking him, one on either side, each carrying Uzis.

By the looks of it, he was some trust fund baby who’d thought he was the shit and had decided he’d be some big time drug dealer. The fact that he thought he was putting on a realistic Crime Alley accent was laughable. That kid couldn’t scrub the Bristol out if he went through three cycles in an industrial washing machine.

Given that it looked like the only manpower he’d brought was the two behind him, Overbite, as Tim had started calling him in his head, also had the unwarranted confidence of most Bristol residents as well. The man was wearing some kind of designer tracksuit and a backwards ballcap, practically screaming ‘I think I’m tough shit but would die if any dirt even touched me.’

The other figure wore a mask on the lower part of their face, leaving only their eyes exposed. Their eyes were a sharp golden brown, flecked with pieces of silver that seemed to flow easily through their iris’ and their hair was a shade of blond so golden it looked to actually be shining in the dim warehouse lighting.

Tim couldn’t get a read on their age beyond a vague range of mid to late teens, given there were very few creases around the corners of their eyes. He also wasn’t getting any clues from their voice, since the mask had some sort of voice modulator within it. Besides that, they were dressed in a well fitted suit, definitely tailored for them.

Behind the blonde stood just one man with only a brief case held in front of him. It didn’t look like they had anyone else or any weapons at that, but given the way Goldilocks’ irises seemed to shift, they might be packing some kind of magical trick up their sleeves.

The two stood face to face in the center of the large room, the walls littered with grim and some kind of nasty looking mold. Decaying wooden pallets and crates were stacked high on the dirty concrete floor, a possible hiding place for more goons lying in wait, ready to be called upon if needed.

The blonde gestured at the man holding the briefcase without taking their eyes off the man in front of them. The goon stepped up to their side, opening the briefcase to reveal two syringes filled with a glowing golden liquid peppered with silvery bits that floated freely.

Somehow, I think I might have a feeling of how the drug was made. Tim thought wryly. He considered calling and waiting for backup, but when a goon emerged from the crates behind the Blonde, dragging a fighting kid by the arm with her, he knew there wasn’t enough time to wait for Batman or Nightwing. He’d just have to figure this one out on his own.

“It’s not very nice to drag someone around like, Golden rule and all. Unless you’re into that, I’m not judging. Just hand over the kid and we can settle this like adults.” Tim quipped as he stepped through the doorway, drawing his bow staff and extending it to its full length.

Of course, everyone knew that Robin couldn’t just let drug dealers go, but it’s nice to hope they’d just let things go the easy way for once.

But no, why would anything ever go the easy way, Tim thought as the two men behind Overbite pointed their weapons at him.

“Ah, I was wondering when the Bat would show up, but I guess I’ll just have to settle for one of his birds,” sighed the blonde, keeping his relaxed position.

“Still, I’m glad you could catch the show, it’s bound to blow you away.” Goldilocks said ominously as they started to reach towards the briefcase with the glowing syringes.

“I’d keep your hands off the glowsticks if I were you or things might get real messy for you, Goldilocks,” Tim said as he shifted his fighting stance, staff ready in his hands for an attack. As he neared the masked figure, Overbite started to make a run for the door, his guards taking off with him.

“Whoa now Chompers, why leave the party so soon? We’re just starting to have some fun!” Tim said as he drew a bola from his utility belt and threw it at him, making him tumble to the ground and knock his head on the concrete floor hard enough to knock him out cold.

Unsurprisingly, Overbite’s guards continued on their sprint out of the room and most likely out of the warehouse entirely.

Fuck, I’m going to have to track them down. Why can’t anything just be easy for little old me? A guy only turns 15 once, and I don’t want to spend tomorrow or technically today trying to track them. Tim thought with no small amount of annoyance as he shifted the rest of his focus to the now moving Blonde.

“Well done Robin, quite the display. As much as I’m flattered by your oh so original nickname, I must tell you I go by another. I am called Sicarius. While your company was so very appreciated, I have a feeling this is the last time we’ll be seeing each other,” Sicarius smirked as they fully grasped the syringe, moving towards the kid still struggling in their lackey’s arms.

“And as such, I think our time together should end with a bang, don’t you think? I imagine you already know what this does, but witnessing is so much sweeter than seeing pictures don’t you think?” Their eyes sliced back towards Tim, a manic glee swimming in them.

“Stop!” Tim shouted as he launched himself across the room, sprinting to get the blond. The man with the briefcase backed away behind the crates, seeming to vanish into the darkness. Sicarius paused right before Tim got to them and with a wave of their hand, Tim was suddenly in the air, being launched onto his back a few feet back.

Grumbling, Tim clutched the side of his head as it throbbed from the sudden impact.

Well, I’m certainly not winning any vigilante awards today. Getting back up, Tim sees Sicarius again about to plunge the drug into the kid's arm. Quickly, he reaches into his utility belt for a batarang. Tim grasps it firmly, then flings it with an accuracy that could be lethal if he so chose.

Seeing as the Bats weren’t really in the business of killing, regardless of whatever exceptions Bruce continued to make for Jason, Tim keeps his aim focused on the syringe in Sicarius’ hands. The batarang rips through the glass, shattering it, causing Sicarius to stumble backwards a little, whipping the now free drug off of their face. Using it as a distraction, Tim lunges at the woman holding the kid and hits her square in her forehead, making her drop like a rock.

“Get out of here kid. This isn’t really the place I’d spend my summers in, but that’s just me,” Tim says, breathing slightly labored as he puts himself between Sicarius and the kid who’s already launching themselves through the door and down the stairwell towards escape. He watches as the other figure slowly pulls themselves up to what Tim assumes is their full height, a solid 6’.

“Looks like it’s just the two of us now, so why don’t we get down to business,” Tim says as he grabs smoke pellets from his belt and tosses them at Sicarius, dashing into the smoke to deliver a barrage of blows with his staff.

As Tim started to bring his staff down in its downward arc to where he assumed Sicarius to be, a streak of gold flew through his periphery. Turning to face where a pair of glowing golden eyes stared him down through the smoke, a chill went down his spine as Tim fully turned towards Sicarius, preparing himself for a long fight.

“I must say, I am rather disappointed this didn’t go as planned. But as any good performer knows, the show must go on,” Sicarius said as a palpable wave of something that Tim was almost certain was magic radiated off of them. “It’s such a shame that you won’t be here to see my glorious rise, but you will be an example to the other pests of Gotham of what happens to those who don’t fall in line.”

“Wha-” Tim started but was abruptly slammed through the crates by the same invisible force as before, his bow staff being wrenched from his hands in the process. Before he got a chance to catch his breath, Tim was thrown into the air, his body a few feet off the group, his limbs frozen in place. He could feel the stitches in his side from a recent fight tear, blood starting to color a small patch of the Robin suit.

That’s going to be a bitch to get out

Coughing, Tim shifted his eyes to look at Sicarius, who still held the same relaxed posture as before, eyes seemingly blazing in the receding smoke. Tim would have thought that they’d been frozen as well if not for the way their hand was raised, presumably holding Tim in place.

“Sorry Goldie, I don’t know what you mean by ‘won’t be around to see.’ Hate to break it to you, but after a quick glance at my calendar, it looks like I’m fully booked with kicking ass. Tight scheduling comes with the job, I’m sure you understand.” Tim quipped despite his breathing starting to come out harsher, the simple act of it getting harder as panic started to claw at the edges of his mind. He struggled against the invisible hands that held him in place, but to no avail.

He couldn’t be captured, Batman and Nightwing had too much important work on their plates as it is. Tim couldn’t have them divert their attention away from essential operations to try and rescue him. He tried to avoid thinking about how many innocent lives would be endangered if he pulled Gotham’s protectors away, all because Tim couldn’t handle a simple job any of the previous Robins would’ve been able to handle.

“Oh, I do believe you misunderstand me. I’d think of it less like making room for something, and more like a permanent sabbatical.

“One you won’t be coming back from,” Sicarius says, the corner of his eyes crinkling, clueing Tim in that they were definitely wearing a shit eating grin under the mask.

Ice shot through Tim’s veins and the panic he’d been fighting against pushed itself further to the front of his mind and it took all of his willpower to stop himself from hyperventilating.

Appearing from behind some crates, the man with the briefcase reappeared, bringing said briefcase to Sicarius. Opening the case, Sicarius grabbed the second syringe of glowing liquid, flicking it as he gazed almost lovingly at it.

Shit, I was too distracted trying to save that kid, I completely forgot about the other goon.

“Seeing as you so rudely destroyed my other creation, it seems fitting that you try it yourself. Don’t worry, it’ll give you a fun little trip, but I’ll be here to make sure the job gets finished,” Sicarius’ mask hisses as they pull it off with their free hand and drop it to the floor beside them.

Beneath was a mouth with long scars stretching across their mouth to their chin. Tim opened his mouth to dog on them, probably to call them a knockoff scarecrow, but found that his voice was lost to him.

“As much as I do love to watch the beautiful effects my creation causes, it does just Vex me when I hear people scream,” Sicarius states matter of factly, a sinister smirk curling against the backdrop of the scars littering their face. It was like they just silenced people with their magic all the time.

Actually, that makes a lot of sense, given the amount of trials I saw on that drive, Tim thinks as he continues to try to throw his body away from Sicarius.

Without any more preamble, Sicarius jabs the needle into Tim’s shoulder and pushes the plunger all the way in. Fire erupts under Tim’s skin, an onslaught of sensations soon following, nearly overloading Tim.

Struggling against the barrage of wrongness, Tim could just barely make out Sicarius speaking some kind of language.

"Emitte animam suam de corpore suo et exilium illud in mundo procul a domo, Emitte animam suam de corpore suo et exilium illud in mundo procul a domo, Emitte animam suam de corpore suo et exilium illud in mundo procul a domo…" Sicarius chanted over and over again, face pinched in concentration.

They were the last thing Tim heard as he lost the battle to keep his eyes open, unconsciousness washing over all his senses.

Of all the ways his life could have ended, he hadn’t imagined it would be at the hands of some nobody in a random warehouse in Gotham Harbor, freshly 15. He might have envisioned something a bit flashier, but he probably should have guessed that this is how he’d die. He was the cuckoo, as Jason had so kindly pointed out, and Tim had to agree. The only reason he’d become Robin was to make sure Batman didn’t kill others or himself in his grief of losing his son.

Tim had become auxiliary, a vestigial organ to a family that no longer needed his help or support. Jason had returned to fill the hole that his death had ripped through the Wayne family.

Among the many things Tim regrets, the one he regrets most is that he had to die in a warehouse. As much as he hates how Jason and Bruce treat him, they don’t deserve the blow to their psyche that would come with another Robin dying in a stupid warehouse, regardless of whether or not it was Tim in the suit.

Fuck, Tim thought as his body shut down, slipping without much fight into death’s cold embrace. Batman’s gonna be so pissed.

𓅨𓅨𓅨

Head pounding, Tim groaned as he slowly came to. When he opened his eyes, what Tim expected to see was that he was in the Cave medbay, Bruce scowling disappointedly as he stood at the foot of his cot.

He’d expected to see Alfred busying himself with cleaning the medical tools they’d no doubt used to stitch up his side, unless this was one of the times Bruce expected him to demonstrate he knew how to.

What he wasn’t expecting to see was a 10 year old staring at him in shock. What he really wasn’t expecting was that the kid would be a 10 year old Jason Todd and that Tim himself would be quite literally floating in front of him.

What the Fuck

Chapter Text

What the absolute FUCK

Tim’s hung mouth agape as he stared at a young Jason Todd, who, like a mirror, had his mouth equally open if not more as he stared right back at Tim. The boy was lying flat on his stomach on the bed, and presumably had been reading, given that a book and a flashlight now lay in front of Jason on the bed spread.

Ok, ok, ok, ok, I can figure this out. I’m probably experiencing hallucinations from Vex. That's it, that's gotta be it, because there is no reality where I end up floating in front of a younger version of the guy who literally slit my throat. 

Tim held his hands out in front of him and looked himself up and down. He was still clad in the Robin costume and the blood patch on his side was still there. Surprisingly, Tim didn’t feel any pain from the wound. 

When he focused on the agitated injury, he felt only a gentle throbbing brushing along the edges of his mind, almost like a suggestion of pain instead of the fact it should be. Looking down at his watch, he checked the time.

1:07 am, July 19th.

Looking away, he lifted his head to glance around the room the two were in, taking in any details that might help him determine whether he was in an alternate reality or timeline, or the most likely scenario, if he was truly tripping absolute balls as he died from a drug overdose on the floor of one of the grossest warehouses in Gotham Harbor.

What he was shocked to find was that instead of the room being some incomplete recreation of any room that was significant to him, Tim found himself in a room that was almost identical to the shrine the Bats left untouched in the last room of their family wing. 

Except, this room was missing a few details. There was still the bookshelf full of Jane Austin and other well worn classics that Jason loved so much and the Wonder Woman bedspread was exactly as it had been in Older Jason’s room.

Even in darkness, he could see the differences. The Flying Graysons poster hanging on Little Jason’s wall, the family photos of Bruce, Dick, Alfred, and a Jason who was anywhere from 7ish to 10 in the photos, and most noticeable, Jason himself. 

The kid looked alive and everything, and evidently hadn’t gone through the forbidden mountain dew pits yet given there were no streaks of white tucked into the choppy bangs that framed his face.

Glancing down at his watch he checked the time again. 1:08 am, July 19th.

Huh. Tim remembered Steph showing him some research paper that proved that in dreams or hallucinations, clocks and time are never consistent. Ever. That greatly lessened the odds of Tim dying while experiencing what would probably be the strangest trip of his life. 

Which ultimately led Tim to the conclusion that Siracius had actually been casting a spell of some kind and not speaking gibberish at a dying Tim.

Okay, so that’s weird. I need to snap out of it. Think, what does protocol say when you find yourself in front of the younger version of your boss’s zombie son, floating a foot off the ground and unable to feel pain? Hmmm. Absolutely jack shit. Lovely. 

Tim felt his eye twitch a little. I’ll need to get more information to make more of a solid guess to what’s going on. God, I hate when this time travel shit happens to me. Tim dragged his fingers down the front of his face, groaning loudly.

The sudden sound seemed to rouse little Jason from his stupor. The boy swiftly turned over onto his side and shined his flashlight into Tim’s eyes. Squinting against the shine of the light and shielding his eyes from the light, Tim almost missed the look of confusion and apprehension that overtook the boy's face.

Jason’s little face scrunched up, and with a speed that most definitely qualified the kid for a position on Team Flash, he reached under his pillow and pulled out a pocket knife. In a matter of seconds, Jason had it opened and pointed towards Tim.

“Dickie, I swear to god, if you got one of your stupid friends to prank me, I’m going to throw out all your limited edition Lucky Charms” The little boy said, his face an imitation of a scowl. Tim just balked. This little kid was definitely a version of his Jason, but it’s clear both versions had very different relationships with the Bats.

Tim’s Jason, who he figures he should just call Todd at this point, barely spoke to Dick even when Todd was still alive. Dick had been in too much of a feud with Bruce at the time and had only just started attempting to connect when Todd had been murdered. There were no pranks, no getting to know Dick’s friends in Tim’s world. They never got the chance.

“I’m serious dude, get Raven to stop whatever spell she’s casting and go back to your room. Don’t even think about ratting me out to Alfred or I’ll tell him you’re the one who opened the oven too early and ruined his soufflé yesterday.” Jason had put his pocket knife away now that he’d convinced himself it was his brother, slipping it back into its place under his pillow.

“Um, so this is a little awkward, but I’m actually not Dick?” Tim tried, slowly raising his hands and shrugging as if this were as simple as bumping shopping carts in a store. Better to just jump into this now. 

Jason, who had been relaxed, tensed up. When he turned back towards Tim, his little eyes scanned his form and then, with a quickness that would make any speedster jealous, he threw his flashlight at Tim’s head.

Trying, but ultimately failing, Tim attempted to jump out of the way, but apparently he hadn’t gotten the hang out flying in the three minutes he had the ability. All of this to say, Tim’s head stayed in the same general area set to make contact with the flying flashlight. 

Tim closed his eyes, and tried to move his hands up to block the flashlight, but to the surprise of both Tim and Jason, the flashlight went straight through Tim’s head. With no head to break its momentum, the flashlight crashed into the closed wooden door that led into the hallway. Which was also the family wing, where famously light sleepers Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson most likely were.

Shit. I’m going to be in so much shit when they come into Jason’s room and see a floating teenager cosplaying as Robin. Tim thought frantically, trying to figure out how to move, flailing his arms around wildly. Unfortunately for him, it seemed Tim’s center of gravity was locked in place. All the while, Jason is just staring at him with caution and what looks suspiciously like curiosity.

The sound of doors slamming open from the hallway echoed into Jason’s room, and in a matter of seconds, Bruce and Dick were tripping over themselves to get through the door.

Tim waited for the surprised shouts and threats of violence from the Batman, and from the looks of it, a Robin aged Dick Grayson. Instead, Tim sees and feels the two pass through Tim and head straight to Jason, voices overlapping the other in their rush to make sure Jason was okay.

Okay, so. What the fuck. That changes things. Is this what Sicarius’ spell did, why is this happening to me, why can’t Bruce and Dick see me, why- Tim’s thoughts raced through his head at breakneck speeds, each one too fast for him to safely catch onto without feeling like they would all crash together, creating a cacophony of chaos too much for him to handle, let alone sort through.

Looking back towards the trio, Tim didn’t know what he hoped for, but when he met the eyes of Jason, his thoughts slowed as he shoved them down. Tim forced the racing thoughts back into the box they needed to stay in if Tim hoped to get anything done. He needed to pay attention if he had any hope of finding where and when he was.

Jason was staring him down from over Dick’s shoulder. The man, no, the teenager was hugging his little brother tightly. 

Bruce sat on the edge of the bed beside them, his hand rubbing small soothing circles on Jason’s back. Despite the fact that Bruce was practically staring Tim dead in the eyes as the man stared at the door to make sure no threats appeared, Bruce’s eyes showed no sign of acknowledgement of the floating, slightly bloody teenage boy wearing a Robin costume.

Jason stared at him with a look in his eyes that felt beyond his years, an intelligent mind visible from the whites of his eyes to the bluest parts of his innermost iris. Damn, this kid has really mastered that blue-eyed stare.

“What happened Chum? Are you okay, what was that crashing sound?” Bruce fired the questions one after the other, placing his hand on Jason’s shoulder. Bruce’s face was twisted into an expression Tim had rarely seen directed at anyone, one he couldn’t confidently say was concerned.

“I’m okay dad. I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to get a glass of water, but when I turned to get out of bed, I saw this giant roach. I might have thrown my flashlight at it, and which might have just so happened to be what crashed into my door?” Jason said, a guilty little smile spreading across his face, hands raised in a shrug. Even with the relaxed front he put up for his father and older brother, the knowing look never left Jason’s eyes, glancing at Tim every so often. 

“Jeez Louiz Jay, you scared us. Please, I beg of you, if you see a bug, don’t throw a flashlight at it. We have quite literally more shoes than we could ever use, just grab a pair of those ugly dress shoes you hate and squash it. We don’t want another butterfly incident, now would we?” Dick jokes, releasing his octopus hold of a flustered Jason, and standing up with Bruce. 

They both walked towards the door, left ajar from the cyclone of panic that was Bruce and Dick, and looked back. Which also meant they were inadvertently looking through where Tim was floating. “Are you sure you’re okay? We can stay longer if you need.”

Tim waited for Jason to rat him out, to tell Bruce and Dick there was a wannabe Robin floating in his room, they just couldn’t see him. Tim knew that despite how ridiculous it might sound, Bruce wouldn’t take any chances with his son. He’d run every test he could think of, and if he thought he needed to, Bruce wouldn’t hesitate to call in the Justice League. 

Tim’s Bruce never took any chances when it came to Dick and Jason. Tim knew that the second he’d woken up in the medbay after the Red Hood attacked him in Titan’s Tower and realized Bruce had known that Todd had been the Red Hood all along. Bruce hadn’t told Tim, despite Red Hood’s blatant threat against Tim’s life, that Bruce had chosen to protect Jason at the cost of what was likely to be Tim’s life.

Bringing himself back to the present, or whenever this place was, Tim braced for the inevitable, but instead of telling Bruce about the teen he just so happened to be starely through, all Jason said was:

“Nope, I think I’ll survive the big bad cockroach. Go back to bed. I’m okay, really,” Jason said dryly. “And I thought we agreed to never bring the butterfly up, lest someone find out something they shouldn’t.”

“Dick, what did you do?” Bruce sighed tiredly, turning towards his eldest with what could only be exasperation written into every wrinkle his boys had given him. 

“Well, would you look at the time? Sleep is very important to growing boys like me and you know how I like to get to bed early. That’s me, big sleeper. Goodnight!” Dick practically shouted, already dashing back to his own room before he’d finished speaking, but not without cutting eyes at Jason first.

“I swear, you too are going to make me gray within the decade.” Bruce said tiredly, but he couldn’t hide the small fond smile that he wore.

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re already sporting more gray from that head than the queen of England.” Jason said sweetly, his face that would almost be reminiscent of an angel’s if not for the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, 32 is really racking it up there with her majesty. Sleep well Chum, love you.” Bruce said, smiling as he shut the door on his way out. 

Did Bruce just say I love You? Aloud? Without needing someone to translate it from the grunts that make up the man’s entire vocab? This really must be an alternate reality.

In the seconds that followed, neither boy spoke.

Tim stood, well, floated in the spot he’d been in since ‘waking up’ and Jason had turned his eyes back to Tim. He had that curious look on his face again, one that had Tim tensing his shoulders as Jason tilted his head while his stare bored into Tim.

“So…… you clearly aren’t my brother or any of his stupid friends, so, who are you? Why can I see you but Bruce and Dick not? Why are you floating? What are you doing in my room, especially at 1 am?” Jason surely took after Bruce. He fired off questions at Tim at the same speed, if not faster than his father. “Alfred says that only hooligans stay up past their bedtime, are you up past your bedtime?”

Tim blanched. “Uhhhhhhh,”

“Why are you dressed kinda like Dick? Why do you have pants? Why are you bleeding? Who are you,” Jason steamrolled right over Tim, repeating his first question again. The boy stood on his bed in an attempt to reach Tim’s eye level. Unfortunately for Jason, his height was doing him no favors, standing at 4’10”.

The kid has some detective in him, that’s for sure , Tim thought as he shook himself from his stupor. 

“Well, I honestly don’t know the answer to most of those questions. What I can tell you is that my name is Tim Drake, I have no bedtime, pants protect you more than shorts, and I have no clue how or why I am here.” Tim states. 

He contemplated telling Jason his rough theory of how he’d gotten here, but Tim didn’t think explaining to this baby Jason how he thought he’d been killed in a drug induced hallucination while some egotistical glowstick chanted latin at him would be good for a kid to hear. Might kind of mess with the psyche, you know?

Then what the hell do I tell the kid? That I’m actually just his imaginary friend? Tim thought as looked Jason over, the kid continuing to stare at him. The kid looked like he might be too old to believe that, but you never know what kids might believe. Worst comes to worst, I tell him a PG version of how I really got here.

Tim sighed, already exasperated that he was about to tell what was probably the worst lie of his life. “Actually, I might have an idea of how I got here. Have you ever heard of imaginary friends?” Tim tilted his head to the side, in what he hoped portrayed a vague sense of curiosity.

Jason looked Tim up and down for what must be the 6th since he got here. “Of course I know what imaginary friends are doofus. Who doesn’t?” Jason’s tone and a tilt of his own head told Tim that while the boy might have been acting haughtily, he was actually intrigued and a little unsure. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re my imaginary friend?”

Hook, line, and sinker. Perfect.

“Well, I’m guessing that’s why I’m here. I don’t really have any other clues for anything else. Your dad and brother clearly couldn’t see me, only you. So I must be your imaginary friend right? Unless you have any better ideas on what I could be?” Tim asked the boy who was now sat criss-cross on his bed, still facing towards Tim and the door. 

Tim could practically hear the cogs turning in Jason’s head. He just didn’t know how much would or wouldn’t make sense to a ten year old. Kids tended to be a bit unpredictable in Tim’s personnel experience.

Jason tapped his chin with a finger, clearly contemplating the merits of what Tim had just said very seriously. “I mean, that makes sense I guess. I have no clue why else only I can see you,” He yawned as he sat there, eyes drooping. He was definitely exhausted, whether that was from the late hour, the excitement of Tim, or the fake cockroach, Tim didn’t know.

Still yawning, Jason climbed under his covers. “You might just be a dream too, I guess. Dick says that he sees people that aren’t supposed to be there too, so you might be like his dream people.” Shuffling around, Jason moved his book to his nightstand and finally settled his Wonder Woman comforter.

“See you in the mornin’ Timmy…” Jason said whilst yawning, falling asleep midway through saying his name.

Well, Tim thought, a little dumbfoundedly, That was a lot easier than I was expecting. Who knew little kids were so gullible?

Now that all the excitement had died down, Tim had a chance to really think. A chance to try to remember and possibly decipher whatever the hell Sicarius had done to him. 

Tim knew for a fact that:

1. Sicarius had injected him with Vex, a drug that was definitely psychedelic and caused extreme hallucinations, resulting in death in some cases,

and

     2. They had also been chanting some sort of language at him as he died/was transported to this dimension

That first one was a bit concerning, considering that there was a possibility that TIm might actually be dying right now and that this is all a hallucination. Given how realistic everything Tim was seeing was, Vex was either a technology-based Virus and Sicarius just had a crap ton of money to drop on each dose, Vex was a home brew of whatever mage shit they had going on, or Tim was actually dead.

The only way to know which was truly the case would be to wait it out and see either if the hallucination shifts in a noticeable way or Tim just dies.

As for the weird chanting, the only clues Tim had was that it had to be some kind of magic. He thought back to what Sicarius had said to him right before they’d tossed him around like he was their favorite barbie.

“It’s such a shame that you won’t be here to see my glorious rise, but you will be an example to the other pests of Gotham of what happens to those who don’t fall in line… I’d think of it less like making room for something, and more like a permanent sabbatical, one you won’t be coming back from”

From Sicarius’ baby monologue to the way they’d smirked like they were the cat that ate the canary, Tim could piece together their intentions. 

The second I saved that kid, Sicarius knew they were going to kill me. It was like they had two options for the night. Kill the kid or kill me. Such fun times for Robin. Tim thought dryly, glancing down at his gloved hands in contemplation. The thing was, Tim hadn’t seen any hallucinations as he lost consciousness. 

If I were really hallucinating, I don’t think I’d be in the Robin suit. This is honestly one of the shittest outfits to be stuck in.  10 out of 10 would not recommend, Edna Mode would be so disappointed in me.

A wave of curiosity washed over him. Would he be able to take off the costume? If so, what would he wear? If the flashlight flying clean through his head was any indication, Tim couldn’t interact with anything. It’d be pretty awkward if he took off the suit only for him to have nothing else to wear.

Tim pulled at the fingers of his glove, testing to see if it’d come off. When it didn’t budge, he tried to grab and pull at the mouth of the glove, hoping he just needed a firmer grip. Again, it didn’t budge from its spot on his wrist. While the fabric rustled minutely, it ultimately stayed where it was, like it was cemented in place.

It looks like ol’ Timmy is stuck being Robin for the rest of time, what a dream come true, He thought with false cheer.  

Now that my wardrobe is permanently traffic themed, the issue of moving is becoming more and more pressing. Tim could move his arms and legs without much fanfare, but getting from point A to point B was proving to be a problem. It seemed like his center of gravity was locked in place.

In a movement that would have been considered walking had he been on solid ground, Tim tried to swing his legs back and forth, but only accomplished tipping himself forward. Panicking, Tim tried pin wheeling his arms back in an attempt to right himself.

Now in a mostly upright position, Tim breathed a sigh of relief. I may fight a living scarecrow and a murderous clown, but I’m pretty sure my life just flashed before my eyes. I don’t think I’ll be trying that again anytime soon. I’ll figure out some other way to move around, right?

𓅨𓅨𓅨

A now upside down Tim huffed in frustration as his continued attempts at swinging and throwing himself forward yielded nothing but acting as his own personal gyroscope.

He’d really tried other ways. Slowly moving his body forward. Violently trying to throw himself forward. Tim had even tried to grab on to one of the posts on Jason’s bed, but as expected, his hand went right through it.

The only reason Tim hadn’t literally yelled in frustration was the sleeping child in said bed. The boy was sleeping soundly, the only times he’d moved were to shift around or reach for a stuffed animal that had escaped from his grasp.

Glancing at Jason again, Tim was surprised when he saw a stream of light resting over the kid. Squinting to look through the blinds of the window, Tim saw the sun cresting along the horizon, almost mocking his plight with its easy movement.

It can’t be morning already can it? There’s no way I spent literal hours trying to move from this stupid spot and got nowhere right? Tim thought, a tinge of hysteria mixed in, as he checked his watch.

6:30 am, July 19th

DAMN IT, DAMN IT ALL Tim threw his head back and groaned into his palms. If fucking CASPER can move around, then why can’t I? What did I do in my life to deserve this torment?? I put up with Bruce’s broody ass while he was grieving and kept him from killing random thugs or himself. 

I put up with Jason and his misconceived notions of me taking his place in the family. I even tried to get their bitch asses to pull their heads out of their asses and reconcile, but NO. Tim Drake is stuck floating in the room that belongs to the younger version of his would be MURDERER.

Feeling like he was about to burst at the seams, Tim finally let it all out and screamed. That is to say he momentarily forgot the aforementioned younger version of his would be murderer sleeping soundly not even three feet away from Tim’s upturned form.

A quiet groan quickly followed by a yawn startled Tim enough to shake him from his inner ranting. Jason slowly sat himself up, one arm wrapped around an elephant stuffed animal and the other rubbing at his eyes groggily.

When Jason had finally gotten ahold of his bearings enough to take a glance around his room, he startled a little at Tim. 

To be honest, I’d be pretty freaked out if I saw some guy dressed as Robin floating upside down in my room too.

“Huh. You weren’t just a dream. I guess that really does make you my imaginary friend.” Jason mumbled, sleepiness dripping from every word. “Nice to meet you Timmy, my name’s Jason.”

Looks like that’s going to stick. Well, no place to start what is sure to be an interesting existence than pretending to be an imaginary friend. Tim looked at the kid, who was blearily shuffling to sit on the edge of his bed.

Tim sighed. “Nice to meet you too Jason,”

Chapter Text

As was to be expected of a ten year old running on only five and half hours of sleep, Jason promptly conked out again. The boy hadn’t even bothered to tuck himself back in, he just snored on top of his comforter, perfectly content and peaceful.

Tim, on the other hand, was not having as great of a time. He was able to get back to the proper orientation but still was having no luck in moving from his spot. 

About 20 minutes after Jason went back to sleep, Tim had stopped trying to move.

Knowing the definition of insanity and living through the perfect example of it really makes a guy feel like he’s going just a little, I don’t know, insane. That, along with the fact that Tim himself couldn’t seem to make himself go to sleep was just further making this the longest day ever.

If I’d known that I'd die and get transported into an alternate dimension where only one person could see me, I’d have at least gotten some sleep last night. Tim had been up for about 40ish hours before he’d gone to get his ass kicked by Sicarius. This is so not slay man. I try to girlboss my little heart out and I get fucking nerfed. I'm just a girl.

It was safe to say he was a little exhausted. In the hours before the confrontation, Tim had drunk copious amounts of coffee and a smidge of red bull, giving him no small amount of the occasional caffeine shakes.

While Tim waited for Jason to wake again, he considered his condition. He looked at the small circle of blood that had formed on his side from tearing his stitches during the fight. About how, when Tim really focused on it, he could feel ‘suggestions’ of pain instead of the real thing. 

With his exhaustion, it was the same. He could feel it more strongly for some reason, more present in his mind. His eyes always felt the slight tug of sleep, but it wasn’t enough for Tim to be able to sleep. 

The caffeine in his system would explain why at some points his anxious thoughts were a bit heightened from what they usually were. 

From all of this, it seemed that Tim’s body was sort of frozen in time. A sort of perpetual state of being, where pains he had experienced before were lessened but still present, in a constant state of never getting better or worse.

That’s the theory so far, now I’ll just have to find some way to test it . Tim rubbed his chin, trying to come up with some way to test his hypothesis while being stuck in this state. Truly, he didn’t even know if his body was actually stuck in some sort of suspended animation. He could just be wrong and never have the chance to find out.

I could try to see how much I can move my body, maybe even pull my legs up? Tim wondered curiously. 

Pulling his feet up and grabbing his ankles with his hands, he crossed his legs to meet his torso. When he felt no gravity trying to force the limbs back down again, Tim let go of his ankles.

Surprisingly, they floated. It was easy to hold the position, comfortably familiar to Tim in a way that felt natural. 

Tim propped his head on his hand as he leaned his elbow on his legs. 

Floatings got nothing on grappling through Gotham, but I think I could get used to this.

𓅨𓅨𓅨

In true night owl fashion, Jason woke up at about 11 am. Tim was squinting at the titles on the bookshelf across the room as Jason stirred, the boy groaning as the sun shined in his eyes.

“Well well well, seems like someone’s just a ray of sunshine in the morning,” Tim said, the slightly harsh sarcasm rolling off his tongue easily. 

Intuitively, Tim knew that this Jason had done nothing to harm him, but every time he glanced at the boy, he couldn’t help but panic for a split second. The resemblance to Todd was, naturally, uncanny.

The only thing keeping me from having a panic attack is the lack of a skunk tail across his forehead, and the fact that he’s so tiny compared to Todd. The major differences in appearance were helping Tim fully separate the two in his mind. 

I can’t just treat this kid like shit just because I have emotional baggage with who he becomes. That’s not fair to put on the kid. All that leaves me is being the best stationary Imaginary friend the world has ever known.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” Jason asked, eyes squinting as he stared at Tim. Right as Tim was about to quip at him, something that would have killed truly had he had more of an audience, Jason’s little eyes lit up in recognition. 

Showcasing some of that speed from last night, Jason shot up. The sudden movement sent his covers flying off him and towards the foot of the bed. “Oh shit, I actually do have an imaginary friend. Either that, or Dick really wasn’t making it up when he said drinking Monsters right before bed makes you see people.”

“That may actually be true, speaking from personal experience. Though, I’m quite certain I’m real.” Tim raised his arms up, hands meeting at the back of his head, reclining his form back slightly to give his posture an air of openness. 

“Well, how do I know that? I know I threw a flashlight at you and it went right through your head. In fact, Dick and Bruce walked right through you too!” Jason pointed out, literally pointing an accusatory finger at him. He had the patented “Ah-HA!” face as he stared Tim down.

It’s a good thing I thought about what I would say when the inevitable bombardment of questions came. A guy gets a little bored when stuck in the same spot for hours on end. Tim stayed in leaning back on nothing, making sure to keep an air of leisure. 

This would all be for nothing if Jason got suspicious and snitched to Bruce. Then where would Tim be? A cell on the watchtower or exorcized for all Tim knew.

“Obviously they went through me. Imaginary friends can’t touch anything from your world, because if we did, we wouldn’t be imaginary. That’s why only you can see me, I am your imaginary friend. If I were any of theirs, only they could see me and you’d never even know I existed!” Tim said to him, tsking like this was common imaginary friend etiquette.

“I guess that makes sense…” Jason mumbled, tapping his hand on his chin in contemplation. 

Huh. Tim hadn’t noticed before, but this little Jason and Bruce shared similar mannerisms. Todd had only been around for 1 year as Robin in Tim’s world, which wasn’t the most time to pick up on little habits. What had been there before was surely washed away by the Pit. 

Interrupting Tim from his thoughts, Jason asked what had been the question on Tim’s mind for hours. “If you’re able to float, why are you just staying there? Can’t you move around?”

“That seems to be the question of the hour. Since I’m kinda new at this whole imaginary friend thing, I don’t really know how to move. You know just as much as me kid.” Tim shrugged, hoping that the indignation of being clocked so fast by a ten year old wasn’t showing on his face.

“Have you tried?” Jason asked, his face a picture of innocent curiosity. Tim’s eye twitched, keeping himself from snapping at the kid.

“Of course I’ve tried, kid. Literally nothing I’ve tried has worked. You might just be stuck with a stationary floating friend.” Tim replied. He could feel the annoyance rising in him, but he knew the kid hadn’t meant it in the patronizing way Todd would have. 

“I mean, have you tried just concentrating and thinking really, really hard on where you want to go?” Jason scrunched his eyes up real tight and kind of scrunched his body too, making a noise that made Tim think the kid was about to have an accident.

He opened his eyes again after a second, looking back up at Tim. “Like that!”

“There is no way I haven’t tried just closing my eyes and thinking -” Tim stopped. Had he really tried anything other than just physically throwing himself? He had gotten very upset and wished that he could just move already, but never to where. But there was no way ten year old Jason figured this out before a trained detective right? Right?

God, I will be so embarrassed if this ten year old figured this out before me. Tim thought.

Tim looked at Jason again, who was now nodding encouragingly at Tim, an earnest sparkle in his eyes. Well Damn, if I couldn’t differentiate between the two Jason’s before, this certainly helps. No way my Jason would ever look at me in any way that could be remotely described as encouraging.

Tim couldn’t help but smile, and with no small amount of urging and vigorous head nods from Jason, Tim closed his eyes and focused. He decided to start small, unfurling his legs and hoping to touch them to the ground. When he felt solid-ish ground under his feet, his eyes flew open.

You’ve got to be shitting me right now. I can not believe I didn’t think of that first. If Steph ever found out a kid figured out how to move before I did, I’d never live this down. Tim thought, forgetting for a moment that he’d likely never see his friend again.

Tim’s astonishment at figuring out how to move was dimmed by the realization that he’d probably never get to see anyone from his world again. He’d ever get to see Steph, Bart, Kon, Cassie, or even the Waynes.

Before Tim could sink deeper into that cesspit of depressing shit, Jason had started talking to Tim, or rather, excitedly shouting at Tim.

“Whoa! That’s so freaking cool, you can fly! Like Wonder Woman!!” Jason threw his arms up in excitement and started pacing the room excitedly. “Now that we know you can move around, we can do so many things! We could go explore the parts of the cave B won’t let me into or go snooping in Dick’s room or- OOOOO! WE COULD PLAY PRANKS TOGETHER!” 

Jason had paused his pacing to stop right in front of Tim, bouncing in place a little as he continued to list all the things he and Tim could do together. Tim tried to suppress a wince as the kid yelled even higher in excitement as he listed more and more future activities.

Is this kid really not a Flash? His lung capacity must be something else for him to be talking this much without coming up for a breath of air . Tim thought, his smile only slightly strained as the child in front of him chattered about all the future plans he had for the two of them already. 

Tim expected to find the incessant chatter annoying and the piling up plans as stifling. Instead, Tim was surprised to realize he found Jason’s rambling endearing and was even looking forward to these aforementioned activities. The feeling was unfamiliar, a foreign warmth filling his chest as Jason talked so excitedly about all the things he wanted to do with Tim.

Tim’s mind flashed back to memories of an empty manor, halls that made a museum look lived in. The broken promises of plans from his parents that flowed from their mouths as easily as water from the tap. He remembered waking up on his birthdays, alone and his parents on the other side of the world, maybe getting a call a week later.

The Waynes had been different. Tim knew his place with them, he’d been the soldier trying to fill the chasm of the son they’d lost. He was always a stop-gap measure to keep Batman from completely going off the rails, nothing more. Tim was the one responsible for his hope that they’d let Tim in, let him join their family.

For a while there, he thought his hope might have become a reality. Bruce’s eyes didn’t have the frigid tinge to them when he looked at him. Dick was starting to treat him like he was just Tim, without the guilt of how he’d wished he’d treated Todd while he was still alive. Alfred had only just started letting his iron wall drop around Tim.

Then Todd came back, and Tim watched those hopes be plunged down the drain, ripped away from him violently. Tim should have known that he should have kept it professional between him and the bats, but he’d allowed himself to get too close. 

Todd would always come before any outsider. The Waynes had made it very clear that Tim was just the neighbor's kid to them. He would only ever be the neighbor's kid.

Tim touched his hand subconsciously to his throat where the scar stretched across it.  The memory forced its way to the front of his vision. It often came back to him in short flashes like trying to play film that had been burned, and this time was no exception. 

He was running through the dark halls, emergency lights flashing. He was in the hall of heroes. The Red Hood was behind him, gleefully describing how he’d ground the Bat’s latest bird. Then it was Todd standing over Tim, helmet removed as he held a knife to his throat, smiling as wide as Joker’s. He stared down at Tim with green eyes that glowed against the darkness of the tower. Tim was slumped on the ground, eyes heavy as he watched Todd trace out a message in Tim’s own blood on the wall. 

“HEY!” was all the warning Tim got before a shoe was flying directly at his head. His movements were jerky, still not used to this new state of being. Tim was only able to half dodged, the toe of the shoe flying through the right side of his forehead.

The shoe hit the wall behind Tim with a loud ‘WHAP,’ the pictures on the wall rattling a little with the impact. Dumbfounded, Tim turned towards Jason, whose arm was still outstretched from throwing the offending object.

“What was that for?!” Tim asked, trying to keep his face from twisting into a scowl. The differences between this Jason and Todd started to blur for a second. Tim took a few breaths, trying and failing to keep his breathing under control.

“You started to space out, then your eyes got all funky and darting around everywhere. Then you started breathing like Bruce does after Dick jumps off the chandelier, but yours didn’t go back to normal,” Jason stated matter of factly, his face trying to hide the tension that the rest of his body could not, then shrugged. “I tried to call your name, but you weren’t listening, so I threw my shoe at you.”

Tim was so startled by what Jason had said, he burst out laughing, his panic momentarily subsiding. He clutched at his sides and his legs came off the ground towards his chest a little as he continued to shake with laughter. Jason stood there for a second looking worried, but after a moment, his body relaxed and he joined in laughing with Tim.

Tim gasped for breath, laughs still racking his frame. 

“You know, I think that might work with me, but you probably shouldn’t start throwing shoes at people while they’re having panic attacks. Especially not paranoid vigilantes,” Calming down, Tim really looked at Jason. 

All traces of Todd Tim thought he’d seen had vanished, leaving only Jason. Jason, who had just seen Tim have a panic attack and tried to help by throwing a shoe at his head. 

“Given that Batman is the most paranoid guy out there, throwing shit at him during a panic attack is definitely not the best idea. Best to steer clear of him altogether, he might mistake anything that moves as a threat.” Tim shuddered as he tried not to remember a panic attack he’d tried to help Bruce through. He could still feel the swing that had gotten him in the chest as he tried to reach out to him.

“Why would I ever leave my dad alone during a panic attack? He and Alfred say that you should stay with them, remind them they’re safe and that they are loved,” Jason cocked his head at Tim like he’d just said aliens from Saturn were invading. “Bruce may be a butthead sometimes, but he’d never attack me or Dick, even if he were having a panic attack.”

Huh . That is not what I was expecting to come out of his mouth. Tim was having trouble reconciling the Bruce Jason was describing and the Bruce Tim knew. My Bruce would rather die than be vulnerable in front of anyone , even Alfred. I wonder what makes this Bruce so different from mine.  

Tim’s Bruce shut himself off from everyone in his life at times, only letting in a select few when he was feeling less paranoid. To everyone else, it was the stone-faced Batman or the horribly annoying Brucie Wayne. Tim almost shudders at the memories, although hilarious, they held a sense of second hand embarrassment Tim wouldn’t want to touch with a ten foot pole.

Therapy? Bruce scoffed at it. Medication? He was too ‘strong’ to rely on pills, he was the Batman™. Besides, they’d mess with his massive detective brain, so that was a hard pass on any kind of antidepressant or anxiety medication.

This attitude of ‘I’m the Batman™, I’m perfectly fine,’ extended to mental help as well. Panic attacks? He taught Tim breathing techniques, but never stayed. Tim was expected to deal with all the mushy gushy stuff on his own. 

The only reason Dick turned out as well as he did (i.e. Not a carbon copy of the emotional nugget of repression Bruce was) was the fact Alfred was there to help him through the things Bruce wouldn’t or couldn’t do.

Tim was about to ask just that, but something else came to mind.

Setting his feet back on the ground again, Tim looked back at the shoe that laid against after its impact with the wall. 

“Why isn’t anyone coming to check on you? I’d imagine another loud bang from your room might elicit some type of response from Bruce and Dick from the way they rushed in here last night.” Turning back to Jason, he saw the boy moving his mouth around weirdly, as if trying to sound out a word. 

After a moment, Tim realized he had been mouthing ‘elicit.’ “Elicit means to cause a reaction or action based on one’s own action.”

Jason blushed a little and tried his very best to scowl. “I knew that! I was just seeing if you knew.” The scowl was not working. Even with Jason crossing his arms, all he’d managed to look like was a puffed up little duckling. “Bruce is at work and Dick is hanging out with some of his stupid friends. Expect Barbara, she’s cool.”

“So, they just left you home alone?” Tim asked. He wondered offhandedly how often most parents left their kids home alone. 

Tim’s parents were obviously different from most given their jobs, but they determined that Tim had been mature enough to stay home alone since he was about eight. While it was lonely, he knew he was lucky his parents had given him the opportunity to grow and learn how to be independent.

“Well, Alfred is somewhere around here. He’s probably cleaning up some mess Dick managed to make.” Jason said as he rolled his eyes. 

Jason walked over to pick up the thrown sneaker, continuing to speak as he stooped down to pick it up. “I’m not allowed to stay home alone ‘til I'm at least 13, which is so not fair. Dick got to go out and beat up people when he was 12!”

“Aren’t you like 10?” Tim said, squinting at Jason, waiting to see if his earlier guess had been right.

“How’d you know that!” Jason pointed the shoe at Tim accusatorily.

“Well, you’re short for one,” Tim said, smirking as Jason started to pout again.

Jason threw the shoe at Tim’s head again. “Am not! You’re just freakishly tall!”

Just like the other times objects, or people, had come hurtling towards Tim, they passed right through like water through a sieve. Tim suppressed the urge to flinch away from said shoe, putting on an amused face instead.

Batman had trained him to avoid things that come flying at him, not wait for them to go through him.

“I will have you know that I am average height. You my friend, are just a shrimp,” Tim chirped at him. “I think I’m gonna have to call you Little Wing now.”

He kicked his feet up in the air, attempting to lay flat on his back. Unfortunately for Tim, this didn’t go exactly as he’d hoped. 

He tipped back farther than he’d meant to and was now at a 45 degree angle with the floor. What sucked even more was that his head was the connecting point.

Jason, as was to be expected, bent at the waist to start cackling at Tim. “Dude, dude, I think you’re doing it wrong,” He said between wheezes “Aren’t birds supposed to be able to fly?”

Tim bristled at the laughter, feeling a bit embarrassed. He closed his eyes and concentrated, moving to stand/float next to Jason.

Jason had tears coming from the corners of his eyes as his laughter grew stronger at the indignant look on Tim’s face.

“Well, you aren’t able to fly at all, so I don’t want to hear it from you!” Tim said. He tried to stay mad as Jason continued to laugh at his expense but found that he couldn’t. The kid’s laughter warmed something in Tim’s chest, easing a pain he’d grown used to having.

Tim had always wanted a little brother when he was younger. He’d begged his parents for one, but their reply was always the same. Son, we already have enough on our plate, or Timothy, you know we’re busy people, we don’t have time to indulge your every whim . 

In the few hours he’d known him, Jason felt to Tim like the brother he’d never had. Dick, whether he knew it or not, had always tried to make it up to a dead brother through Tim. Todd was never a brother to Tim. Any hope of having any sort of relationship bleed away the night Todd had slit his throat.

This Jason was different. Tim could already tell that he hadn’t lost the spark he’d seen in Todd all those years ago. He still had the magic he always accredited towards Robin. Hell, it had always been Jason who’d given Robin magic.

Goddamnit, Tim thought, giving in to Jason’s contagious laughter, I think I’m getting attached.

Chapter Text

When Jason and Tim’s fit of laughter finally ceased, the two headed out of the family wing to the kitchen so Jason could snag some breakfast. Tim had decided it would be good practice to concentrate on going through the motions of walking. 

If I keep this up, then floating will become as easy as breathing, Tim thought as he focused on putting on foot in front of the other. He had to be careful not to put his foot too far down, or he’d sink right through.

As they walked through the halls they ran into Alfred, almost like he sensed someone on route to his kitchen. As he walked towards them from the other end of the hall, Alfred’s eyes stayed on Jason.

Well, I guess I really can’t be seen by anyone but Jason, Tim thought. A sense of sadness he didn’t want to delve deeper into washed over him for a second. As every emotional suppressed person (e.g. All of the Bats) knows how, Tim fastballed the feeling to the back of mind. 

Best not to dwell on it. My Alfred and I weren’t even close, there’s no reason to miss him, Tim told himself.

Tim’s Alfred’s kitchen was a sacred domain, one Bruce and Dick were forbidden from. One too many messes and somehow setting pasta noodles and eggs on fire had gotten the two a permanent ban.

Before he died, only Todd was allowed in there. Even then, he could only help Alfred cook, and very rarely was he given permission to make something on his own even with Alfred supervising the entire time. 

Tim was no different. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to start a grease fire before he was barred from entry.

You put ramen in the microwave without water one time and they act like you meant to leave a scorch mark on the counter , Tim remembered. He’d been hungry one night after patrol, and rather than waiting until he walked the mile to his house, he decided he’d just cook and eat his ramen at Wayne manor before he left. Can’t a boy catch a break every once in a while?

Tim, at 13, hadn’t quite gotten down the energy drink and coffee combo to stay up for the 3 hour patrol, plus training and regular school. So it was a safe assumption to say that he was less than aware if he remembered to add water to the bowl before he put it in the microwave.

This Alfred looked at Jason and smiled warmly. “Good morning Master Jason. Finally up after an exhausting battle with a fearsome cockroach are we? I heard it was quite the perilous battle and that Master Dick had to save you from the devilish creature.”

Jason blushed fiercely, embarrassed. his arms coming to cross his chest as he sputtered. “Well, he’s- he’s a liar! You heard wrong, I was actually the one that saved him!”

Tim looked on in amusement, smiling. Looks like this Alfred still has the same knack for teasing the Waynes in the most posh way.

“Oh, is that so?” Alfred asked, keeping the same level tone and neutral face. Only the crinkle in the corner of his eyes and the slight smile on his lips betrayed the fondness he felt for the boy in front of him.

“It is too so! You should have seen me! I was all like ‘BAM’ ‘WHAM’ ‘POW,’ and Dick was hiding behind me because he was so scared,” Jason performed a series of karate chops and one wild kick as a demonstration. 

“Oh, is that so? What a shame,” Alfred said, a small frown on his face. Tim floated closer to Alfred, moving away from Jason’s side. Upon closer inspection, Tim could see the corner of his eyes still had that fond crinkle it got when he looked at his grandsons.

Well damn, this might be more useful than I thought. I could learn anybody’s tells without them realizing, Tim thought. Well, it would be if I could do anything about it.

Jason, not focusing on Tim floating around Alfred, bought the act. “What do you mean, what a shame?”

“Well, if you didn't have any trouble, I guess the strawberry scones I made to cheer you up will have to go to waste now,” Alfred said, shaking his head a little. 

The act would be pretty obvious to Tim even if he hadn’t gotten a close up of Alfred’s face. 10 year old Jason however continued to be fooled.

“Wait wait wait wait! You don’t have to throw away perfectly good scones!” Jason said, desperate for the aforementioned sweets. “It was very hard on me, I was just being brave so Dick wouldn’t be afraid. I very much need strawberry scones! I might die without them! Look, my hair’s turning white with how scared I am!”

Tim’s eye twitched. I could’ve done without that visual.

Alfred just chuckled, and the small smile was back on his face. “Master Jason, why didn’t you just say so?  I’ll get you that pick me up right away.”

Tim snickered as he flew a bit jerkily back to Jason. He didn’t bother to cover them up, Alfred certainly wouldn’t hear it. Then again, if anyone could, Alfred would be the one to see a person only visible to another. He was just magic like that.

Jason’s embarrassed blush had mostly gone away, but his ears were still red-tipped. He glared at Tim as the two walked side by side behind Alfred to the Dining Room.

“You might die without them?” Tim said, a teasing grin splitting across his face.

“Shut up, butthead!” Jason snapped, his head whipping around to stare at Tim. Tim was about to tease him again, but was interrupted by a perturbed voice.

“I beg your pardon, Master Jason?” Alfred turned towards where the two, well one, were walking, looking incredulous. “I do believe that it is quite rude to call one a ‘butthead’ with such vigor after they have just offered you something. 

“As well as that, I do not know why you would tell me to shut up when no one is speaking,” Alfred chided. To Jason’s credit, he looked properly chastised, looking down at his feet and digging the toe of one of his slippers into the carpet. “I think the use of ‘butthead’ in this manner warrants a dollar in the swear jar. Wouldn’t you agree, Master Jason?”

“Yes Alfie. Sorry for saying butthead.” Jason apologized. The second Alfred’s back was turned, he cut a glare at Tim.

Tim himself was looking a little chastised as well, but not to the extent Jason did. Tim had been on the receiving ends of one too many Alfred lectures in his day. Most ended with cutting words and a cold gaze, whether that was the purpose or not.

This is how Alfred must have been before Todd died , Tim stared at the back of Alfred’s head. He seems so open.

This Alfred hadn’t felt the heartbreak of losing a Grandson yet. He still held himself with openness Tim had never witnessed, still let his family see past the walls he’d slowly lowered for them. There was no trace of the iron wall he’d welded into place, the one Tim had always known. 

“Whatever could have prompted you to say such an odd thing my dear boy?” Alfred said. Now that he’d set the expectations, Tim knew the old man was curious as to why Jason had spoken out of the blue.

“Um, well… I thought… um,” Jason scrambled for an excuse that wasn’t that he was talking to an imaginary friend. That’d just make him sound a little crazy, given, to Tim’s knowledge, Jason never had any kind of imaginary friend. 

Dick had liked to tell stories of Jason when he was at his lowest. Never were there any inclusions of imaginary friends. Even if things did seem different in this world, Tim didn’t think that would have been one of the differences. But, then again, Tim might be surprised.

Jason looked to Tim, pleading for help, making sure Alfred still had his back to the boys.

Damn, those puppy dog eyes really are working. The little shit just glared at me like I stole his favorite Jane Austin novel, the eyes should NOT be working on me!  

Despite this, Tim felt a tug at his chest, almost like a compulsion to help Jason. Tim just credited the weird feeling to Jason’s surprisingly effective puppy dog eyes.

Tim shrugged. “Just tell him you thought you saw Dick making fun of you down the fall. It might be a bit stupid, given you know he’s out with friends, but you can just chalk it up to staying up too late.”

Jason nodded and looked from him back to Alfred. “Well, I thought I saw Dick making fun of me from down the hall.” Jason looked a little embarrassed. “I forgot he was out with his friends today. I think I just caught a glance at myself in a mirror or something.”

“Hm, that does seem like something Master Dick would do if he had been present.” Alfred said, looking back at Jason, and Tim, from over his shoulder. “Well, unfortunately for him, he won’t be able to partake in the pastries.

“Ah, here we are.” Alfred led them to a terrace door. It opened up to a quaint sitting area in a greenhouse type glass room. In the middle of the plant filled room were two chairs and a table with two plates of scones atop it.

Jason rushed past Alfred to one of the chairs and plopped himself down in excitement. Alfred had a small smile on his face as he strode slowly towards his chair and gripped the arms as he sat.

Tim still stood near the doorway, unsure of what to do. There were no chairs for him to pretend to sit in. Granted he could just float next to the two, but he also felt an urge to explore. He’d never been allowed in most of the rooms in the manor, especially if they were ones Jason used to frequent.

Now, he was basically given free reign to go wherever he wanted without any chances of lectures or disappointed gazes. Looking over, Jason wasn’t focusing too much on him. 

The boy was already eating a scone and talking animatedly with Alfred. The older man was clearly trying to get Jason to wait to talk until after he finished his bite, but wasn’t having much success. It didn’t seem to bother him much if the crinkle at the corner of his eyes was anything to go by.

Suddenly, Tim felt like going any closer to them would be watching an intimate family moment. He was definitely going to explore the greenhouse and let the two enjoy their scones in peace.

Tim floated up less than smoothly to about a foot and a half off the ground and started his tour. The room itself was a square, three of the four walls were glass and the fourth was the stony wall of the manor. The floor was also stone, but was considerably smoother than the wall.

 He looked at the foliage, a well kept mix of flowers and leafy plants. There looked to be some tulips, peonies, and even a few hydrangeas. Given Tim’s very limited knowledge of non-medicinal plants, he figured the leafy bushes could have been anything.

Tim moved closer to examine them better. When he moved closer, he saw the tags sticking out of the soil. Each had a very long and not real looking name printed on them.

After he made a round of the plants, Tim decided he’d sit cross legged near a window. This also entailed hovering about three feet off the ground to look out said window.

𓅨𓅨𓅨

Man, just looking at those scones makes me hungry, Tim licked his lips as he stared from where he floated. The enticing pieces of vibrant fruit peaked teasingly out of the golden crust, almost daring him to come and get it. The icing glistened in the sunlight coming through the windows. How was that not supposed to send echoes of hunger pains through his stomach?

He hadn’t realized he’d started drifting over until Jason suddenly stopped his conversation with Alfred. Tim had started floating almost directly over the table almost obscuring Alfred from Jason’s view.

“Master Jason? You were saying?” Alfred asked Jason. Over the rim of his tea cup, Alfred looked at the young boy inquisitively. At least, that’s what Jason would see if Tim hadn’t been floating between the two.

“Sorry Alfie, some sun was getting in my eyes,” Jason said sweetly, waving his hands in a shooing manner in Tim’s vague direction. “It was blocking my view of you, so I got a little distracted trying to move out of its way.”

Tim’s face heated up a little as he backed out of the boy’s direct line of sight. I cannot believe I just floated over to a scone like a fucking looney toons character. God, if Steph were here, she’d never let me live that down.

A pang of longing at the thought of his friend. Tim promptly yeeted the feeling away somewhere deep inside himself like it was a hot potato and Tim was desperately trying to avoid being the last one with said potato.

Turning his attention back towards the pair in front of him, Tim caught the last bits of Alfred’s sentence.

“-sure you’re feeling alright? You seem to be tad out of it my boy,” Alfred asked. Tim was again shocked at the concern that spread subtly across the older man’s face. Tim’s Alfred only showed any sign of concern if Bruce or Dick had gotten seriously hurt on patrol.

Jason shook his head as he answered. “I’m all good Alfie. Just a little tired from my vicious battle with the fearsome cockroach.”

“You’re certain?” Alfred says, eyeing Jason shove another scone in his mouth. “You can always come to me, Master Jason.”

“Hmpg kmphk,” Jason said, or rather tried to say, mouth still stuffed with a scone. His eyes were closed as he basked in the deliciousness that was Alfred’s scones. Tim snickered at the young boy’s antics.

Opening his eyes, Jason saw Alfred’s unimpressed look, an eyebrow raised at the young boy.

Jason hunched a little under the butler’s gaze, and finished chewing his scone. “Sorry Alfie. I know I can come to you. I really am just tired though, I’m okay.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Alfred said. Standing, he took the now empty plates and stacked them in his hands. “I will take care of these. Try not to get into too much mischief.”

Jason smiled so brightly at the old butler that Tim thought he might need to get some sunglasses. “No promises.”

Alfred sighed fondly. “Have a nice afternoon Master Jason. I’ll come by to let you know when dinner is ready.”

“See you later Alfie!” Jason smiled widened impossibly larger. “Love you!”

Alfred let a small smile overtake his features. “I love you too, my boy.”

Tim, who had gotten caught up in watching the dynamics of the butler and boy, seemed stuck in the spot he floated in. Old stalking habits do die hard and all that, or however the saying goes.

Tim’s eyes were glued to Alfred’s back as he exited the green house. For what seemed like the millionth time today, Tim was thrown for a loop.

Man, this reality must be on some good shit. There’s no chance in hell my Alfred would openly express any kind of feelings without having them pried out of his iron grip. Tim thought.

Now that he really thought about it, Tim had noticed certain physical differences between the Alfreds. Differences that even the years between the two couldn’t reconcile. 

Where Tim’s Alfred’s hair had gone gray, this one had healthy black and pepper strands. Where Tim’s Alfred seemed to have perpetual eye bags, this one’s were bright and held a sparkle that Tim didn’t think he’d ever seen before.

Even the way they stood was different. His Alfred held himself with the tired tension of a minuteman, always waiting for orders to fight the next brutal battle. 

This Alfred walked gently, yet with a presence larger than life. Like he found no greater joy spending his time with those he loved, always ready to love and comfort his family.

Tim turned back to where Jason sat, kicking his little legs contently. Jesus, this kid has no right to be this adorable. Like, what the fuck man, why is he so squishable.

“Soooooo… What do you do for fun around here?” Tim floated to Alfred’s empty chair. He attempted to situate himself, getting into a general sitting position after a few tries.

Tim felt a jolt of nostalgia at the mischievous little smirk that spread across Jason’s face. He could almost see the Robin he would become, the one he spent countless summers photographing.

“How would you feel if we put hair dye in Dickie’s shampoo?” Jason held his fingers together like he was some James Bond Villain.

“Oh, I have a feeling we’ll get along just fine.” Tim said, a twin smirk mirroring Jason’s spreading across his face.

𓅨𓅨𓅨

Tim didn’t think he’d ever laughed so hard in his life. 

After leaving the greenhouse, the two had snuck down the hall to Dick’s room. Well, Jason was sneaking. Tim was more hovering along with him.

They’d gotten into the older boy’s room and immediately dashed for the bathroom. In the drawers of the counter, Jason found what he’d been looking for.

Tim looked over the boy’s shoulder to see exactly what he’d gotten his hands on. The clear canisters in the boy’s hand were filled to the brim with all different colors of glitter.

Tim had barked out a laugh at the sight of them. Wow, this Dick really is just the same as mine.

Jason turned to him with a glint in his eyes. Mischief danced from his irises to his corneas, so much life and happy innocence that Tim almost forgot there was any other version of the boy.

He continued to stifle his laughter as he filled Jason as the boy crept quietly back into Dick’s bedroom. 

Turning towards him as he unscrewed the cap of a canister of bright red glitter, Jason whispered to him. “You know, you don’t have to worry about keeping quiet right? Nobody else can hear you, so we don’t have to worry about you getting us caught.”

Tim paused for a second. No one, no one, had ever told him not to worry about keeping quiet. That he could just laugh if he wanted. Granted, now one but Jason could hear him, something in Tim’s chest loosened.

His parents had always requested, or rather, ordered silence on the rare occasions they were home. Children should be seen, not heard, Timothy. Your Father and I are too busy to be listening to your strange obsession with Batman. You’re eight now, shouldn’t you have outgrown such childish gibber gabber?

With the Waynes, the manor itself demanded silence in the early days. Dick had been the one person who’d deviated from the chorus of silence of Tim’s life, a violin full of cheerful and temperamental melodies. Though, even he’d eventually decrescendo, leaving Tim in that silence once again. 

From the moment Todd had returned, the Wayne’s were a symphony. They rejoiced in grand overtures, the strings and woodwinds of their souls singing when he’d returned. Todd’s own soul cried in dark, minor keys, a cello raging as it struck out, angry staccato notes clashing with their joyous chorus. 

The solo Tim had finally thought he was allowed to compose was drowned out by the Wayne’s orchestra. There was no place for a weary bass, no point in fighting for a spot in the main melody of a family he didn’t belong in.

Now, floating in front of Jason, he felt the strings of his soul begin to pluck themselves. Watching the kid scattering glitter all over Dick’s bed and clothes, a beat began to form in his chest.

Jason stood near the closed door of Dick’s room and surveyed his work. As the kid laughed in delight, its melody was as joyous as a choir of trumpets, joining Tim’s steadying bass.

“Quick, we gotta get out of here before Dick comes home or Alfie finds us!” Jason said, tossing the now empty glitter containers over his shoulder. The boy turned and cracked open the door, looking out into the hallway.

Grinning, Tim concentrated and flew through the door. He looked from side to side, checking for any wandering Bats. When he saw none, he waved a hand at Jason, who was still peeking out of the door.

Jason slowly crept out of the room, easing the door shut ever so carefully. Well, as carefully as a 10 year old could. The door’s latch clicked loudly as it shut, prompting the boys to freeze as they looked for any indication they’d been caught.

When they saw no one, the two boys made a break for it, both laughing as they sprinted through the halls. Tim felt lighter than he had in a long time. 

His near silent, steady beat was evolving into something more. It rose to match Jason’s bright chorus of trumpets, turning long, repetitive whole notes into varying, bright eighth notes. As the boys ran down the hall, no clear destination in mind, the two instruments’ melodies melded into one, exuberant as it lit up their souls.

I need to protect him , the thought struck Tim as the two stopped a few hallways away, Jason doubled over as he tried to catch his breath. Staring at the boy, Tim watched as he giggled between breaths, smiling so much his eyes closed.

The thought solidified in his mind. I can change things this time around. I can protect him from the Joker and stop him from ever going to Ethiopia. 

I’m going to make sure that Jason Todd gets to grow up with his family this time.

Chapter Text

Tim and Jason had just wandered back to Jason’s room, when they heard a voice pierce the calm air of Wayne Manor.

“JASON TODD WAYNE” A faint voice echoed from down the hall.

“Well, I guess Dickie found our little present,” Jason giggled, a devious little smirk painting his face. Quickly, he threw himself on his bed and grabbed a book. He opened the book to where he had left off the previous night and turned to look at Tim. “Quick, act natural.”

Tim was about to do just that, looking for a spot to float to when he stopped. 

Wait, why the fuck do I have to act natural? Dick isn’t even gonna be able to see me, I might as well be Casper.

Before Tim could voice any of this to Jason, a very glittery Dick Grayson burst into Jason’s room.

Tim could barely hold back his laughter at seeing the glittery teen. Dick stood in the doorway, covered head to toe in various shades of glitter. Likely, the boy had gotten to his room and thrown himself on his bed, not realizing piles upon piles of body glitter awaited him.

“Jason, what the heck?” Dick said, his face slightly red with annoyance.

Jason didn’t even lower his book, trying to put on an uninterested air. Given the shit eating grin Tim could see on the boy’s face, he wasn’t doing a very good job at it. “Whatever could you mean dear brother?”

Dick huffed and gestured to himself from head to toe. “Playing dumb isn’t going to work! I know you got into my shit! I’ve told you not to touch my stuff!”

Jason finally lowered his book and took a good look at his brother. He buried his face back in his book, his shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. Tim moved from his place at the foot of Jason’s bed to float right beside Dick. 

“Wow, he looks like he’s auditioning to be Elton John’s next pair of sunglasses’” Tim quipped. Jason’s shoulders shook harder, snickers escaping the pages of his books. 

“Jason!” Dick said, throwing his arms out in exasperation. “Stop laughing at me, this isn’t funny. You’re going to have to replace all of this!”

Jason untucked his face from his book and turned back towards Dick. The boy’s face was red from the giggles still sneaking their way out of his closed lips. “Why would I need to replace it? It’s not my fault you wanted to actually become a star.”

Dick squawked indignantly as he sputtered. Tim was laughing so hard that he was starting to tip back, nearly parallel to the ground.

Pointing and laughing at the teen beside him, Tim spoke while he tried to catch his breath. “He’s, he’s trying to, cosplay Sun Baby from the, the Teletubbies!!”

Jason howled with laughter, dropping his book as he clutched his sides. “You- you look like, like Sun Baby!”

Dick stammered, facing growing redder and redder from annoyance.

Tim was fully upside down, hair hanging like stalactites as he pointed a shaking arm at Dick. “Discount Etsy Disco Ball!”

With that, Jason threw himself back onto his bed, laughing so hard he started coughing a little. Tim looked at him, concern scratching at the edges of his mind as he inspected the boy. He only saw tears of laughter and a smile stretched across Jason’s face, so Tim just relaxed and right himself.

Chuckling at an indignant Dick, Tim moved to float-sit at the end of Jason’s bed. 

“Jason, this isn’t funny! I’m getting Alfred!” Dick said as he turned and stomped out of Jason’s room, leaving a trail of rainbow glitter in his wake. As he sat next to a still hysterical Jason, Tim stared at Dick’s very glittery retreating form.

He was reminded of his Dick. Though the two had a significant age gap, 16 year old Dick Grayson was the striking image of Tim’s 24 year old Dick Grayson. He looked almost exactly like the photos Tim had taken when he was 9 and still following Batman and Robin.

It wasn’t stalking, I was only… documenting Batman and Robin’s growth. No matter what Dick called it. He didn’t even realize I had been there until I mentioned a fight I’d helped in.

Tim thought back to about 5 years ago. Well, exactly 5 years ago, seeing as it had been his 10th birthday. It had been a rainy night, Gotham’s wind’s tearing at his windbreaker as he made his way up to a fire escape.

𓅨𓅨𓅨

Tim pulled at the cheap windbreaker he’d found online, trying to cover his camera as the rain tried to murder it. Despite his best efforts, the rain and the wind succeeded in their attempts to commit camera homicide.

A wave of anger passed over Tim. Crap, crap crap! This stupid freaking rain! Why can’t Gotham stop trying to ruin my birthday! First Mother and Father forgot to book their flight like they promised, now this!

Tim had been waiting patiently in the parlor of Drake Manor all day, face nearly touching the glass as he waited for his parent’s car to pull into the driveway. He spent the whole day cleaning and tidying for his parents' arrival, knowing they wouldn’t tolerate him leaving their house a mess.

They were supposed to land at noon, but Tim saw no trace of them at 1 o’clock. Nor did he see them at 2, or 4, or 6. Tim had stood by that front door, wringing his hands as he rationalized to himself why they still hadn’t shown.

At 8:30, Tim had gone to his room and pulled out his computer. He’d gone to check his parents’ flight information (thank you hacking youtube tutorial), but when he pulled it up, there was nothing. After refreshing the page, still, nothing.

The flight his parents had told him they’d book months ago showed up nowhere. Instead, the only planned flight was scheduled a week from today. A one way trip from Mexico to Greece, scheduled for July 26th, a week from his birthday.

Tim had felt despair start to fill his chest, but he quickly pushed it down. I’m fine, I’m fine. Mother and Father don’t need to come home for my birthday, they’re busy with more important things. I should be grateful they trust me enough to leave me here alone. They don’t need to waste money on a babysitter when I’m grown enough to take care of myself.

Back on the fire escape, Tim silently raged at the camera in his hands. No matter how Tim shook it, the screen stayed blank. After a few minutes of fruitless attempts to resuscitate the device, Tim let out an annoyed huff and kicked the railing of the fire escape.

He held a middle finger to the sky, rain pelting his face as he turned to face Gotham herself. “Can’t you let me have one good day? I take pictures of your skylines all the time and always make sure to get your good side! It’s not fair!”

Tim’s shouts were lost to the howling wind, ripping the hood off his head. Yelping, Tim, ducked his head and tried to pull the plastic back up. In his numerous failed attempts, Tim glanced through the window of the building who’s fire escaped he’d been pitched on. 

Inside, Tim spotted Batman and Robin, the dynamic duo themselves, fighting a bunch of goons. Huddling up to the window, Tim looked closer at the uniforms they all seemed to be wearing. They were all in a blinding neon green shirt and an assortment of pants.

Tim gasped. They must be fighting the Riddler! No other rogue would try a visual assault like this! Well, except maybe the Joker, but I know his dumb butt is stuck recovering in Arkham from his fight with Batman a week ago.

Peering down at the fight taking place, Tim saw Batman and Robin getting absolutely swarmed by the human Monster scratch marks. Without much forethought, Tim quietly cracked the window open. Luckily for him, the sounds of fighting drowned out the howling winds Tim brought with him as he eased the window open just enough for his small frame to slip through.

Shimmying through, Tim silently clung to the shadows along the walls to avoid being seen. The fight was happening directly in front of him, so one wrong move could put all the attention on him. Creeping along the walls in what he thought was a very bat-like manner, Tim spotted a metallic box with a slip of paper on top near the corner of the room.

He rushed towards it, picking up the paper and unfolding it to find nearly illegible script scrawled across it. The metal box under it looked to be a regular lock box, but when Tim went to open it, it did so with little resistance.

Inside, Tim found a computer. The same neon green of the goons’ uniforms was the background, black question marks of varying sizes dancing around the edges of the screen. A tiny Riddler head bobbed right above an empty text box, smirking at Tim as if to taunt him. Above all that was a blinking red timer, ticking down.

4:45…4:44…4:43…

Panicked, Tim looked from the computer to the unfolded note in his hands. He squinted as he tried to read the Riddler’s founding father ass handwriting.

Well well well, the Bat and Bird found their way into my lair, isn’t this swell?!?

To defuse the bombs I’ve scattered along Gotham Square, You must solve my riddle, oh how will you fair?

I follow you all the time and copy your every move, but you can’t touch me or catch me. What am I?

Tim racked his brain. What followed him all the time? Easy. Stalkers and reporters, but they could touch someone. Tim could certainly catch them. After following the Bats nearly every night for the past two years, Tim had developed an almost sixth sense to being watched.

What copies your every move? Tim tried to think of something, but came up with nothing that would also follow you all the time. The young boy huffed in annoyance and lifted his gaze to stare at the computer-box in front of him.

Dumb, stupid Riddler. He just had to pull some stupid shit on my birthday! Stupid founding father’s handwriting, stupid neon green home screen. That shade of green should be banned by the Geneva Convention!

In Tim’s silent rage, he lost focus for a moment. Just a singular moment. When he came back to himself, the sounds of the fight had gotten closer. Looking back over his shoulder, Tim made eye contact with a goon near the edges of the fight.

Uh oh.

Confusion crossed the man’s face, then a look of pure glee. Why do these freaks always have to be such freaks??

The goon started off towards him. Tim froze, fear coursing through his veins as big dumb and ugly got closer and closer. Tim could only stare at the looming figure.

Crap, shit, frickin frick nuggets. Tim felt the panic chasing the blood that was surely leaving his face, making him go pale. As he looked at the rapidly approaching beast of a human being, he noticed something. 

There was one singular source light in the building, positioned at the center of the room. As the neon green goon approached, so did his shadow. In fact, it was copying all of the goon’s movements, as shadows always do.

That’s it! Now I just gotta enter it and make a break for it or the electric lime background dancer will break me . Tim scrambled to put in his answer. Consequently, as he got closer to entering the word Shadow , the one rapidly approaching was growing larger.

Tim hit the submit button, his heart hammering away in his chest. The screen filled with an angry looking Riddler screen, but the count down stopped. Just as soon as he read the words ‘ You’ve foiled my plot once again Batman! But I’ll get you next time! ’ he felt a hand grip the collar of his shirt and lift him up.

Scrambling, Tim flailed himself widely. He turned to meet the eyes of the smug goon. The smug grin on his face disappeared as he glanced down at the solved computer riddle. Rearing his fist back, he snarled at Tim. 

“Do you know what you just did kid?”

Tim, who had about zilch in the plans department at the moment let his mouth take the wheel. “Your mom, you Jolly Green Giant looking buttface!” The sudden outburst made the goon pause, a dumbfounded look mixing with the annoyance already there.

Fortunately, or rather, unfortunately for the criminal, that gave Tim all the time he needed. Mustering all the strength he could, Tim swung his foot and connected with the man’s crotch. 

Suddenly, Tim was falling as the goon doubled over. As his feet touched down on the floor, he scrambled like the scrawny little raccoon he’d often been compared to towards the window he’d come through. Oh gravity, how I missed you! Point and match goes to Tim! Take that stupid green apple man.

He slipped through the window as fast as he could, shutting it with a slam. Rain swept in sheets outside as Tim turned to stare back through the window. Inside, the fight between the Bats and the Riddler’s henchmen was still raging. Breathing a sigh of relief, Tim slid down the wall until he had sunk into a sitting position.

Jesus christ, I almost died. My last word would have been buttface. Tim ignored any real feelings of fear because who needed those anyways? Especially when he’d just stopped BOMBS from going off. Tim had just foiled the Riddler’s plan.

Holy crap. I just stopped Riddler from blowing up Gotham Square. More importantly, I just helped Batman and Robin stop Riddler from blowing up Gotham Square. Tim looked up to the pouring Gotham sky, no middle fingers in sight.

“Thank you! I’ll never complain about the rain again, not even a little bit!” Tim jumped up and shouted, a smile spreading so wide across his face it hurt. “Best birthday ever!”

The next day, Tim woke up to a nasty cold, but he couldn’t bring himself to be especially distressed. He’d dealt with being home alone while sick for the first time a year ago, he knew he’d manage fine by himself. 

Even through the sickness, the only emotions beside exhaustion Tim felt were giddiness and pride. If this is the punishment for helping Batman and Robin, I don’t care how sick I get. Nothing will stop me from helping the Waynes, I have too. 

𓅨𓅨𓅨

Back to the present, or rather, this world’s present, Tim was sitting in the chair next to Jason in the Wayne family dining room. Well, he would be sitting if his ass didn’t go right through the chair when he kept moving down, forgetting he couldn’t touch any of the furniture or anything really. 

Jason snickered under his breath at him, which earned him an odd look from Bruce, who was seated at the head of the table. Dick shot him an annoyed look from his seat on Bruce’s right and across from Jason. Tim thought it was probably because Dick was still upset about the whole glitter thing and thought Jason was laughing at him. Again.

“It’s not our fault he can’t appreciate how we made him so bonita. Such a shame such amazing art is wasted on the unenlightened,” Tim said as he adjusted himself to hover where he normally would be sitting. An evil grin crossed his still masked face. “Maybe we should have left some in the pockets of his clothes.”

Jason snickered even louder at that, this time bringing his arm up to muffle it. Dick’s annoyance grew and his frown deepened as he crossed his arms across his chest. Bruce continued to look confused at the antics of his two children.

“What’s so funny over there?” Dick asked, or rather spat. Whatever anger he was trying to project was nullified by the glitter still stuck to his arms and nestled in his hair.

Jason turned the tail end of his laugh into a cough. “Nothing, I’m just having bad allergies. Gotham summer, am I right?” Jason sent him a sunny smile.

Seriously, how has this kid not taken over the world yet? Even Apocalypse would stand down if he flashed that smile and a pair of puppy dog eyes at him.

Tim watched as the sunny, innocent smile transformed into a devious little smirk, Jason’s eyes glinting with mischief. “Why do you ask Dickie? Is there something funny I should be laughing at?”

“You little gremlin-” Dick jumped up in his seat, raising an arm to point accusingly at his little brother. Tim felt himself flinch at the sudden motion and started planning escape routes out of the room in case he needed to grab Jason and run if the dinner got violent. He reached over to place a hand on Jason’s shoulder, but instead of resting on it like he thought it would, it went right through it.

Damnit, I forgot. I can’t just grab him and go. Tim turned to look at the whole unconcerned Jason sitting beside him. Before he could say anything though, Bruce spoke up. 

“Chum, why don’t you sit down and take a breath? No need to point fingers.” Bruce looked at his oldest son, the man still confused. He stayed silent as Dick turned to gape at him, an indignant look on the teenager’s face. Bruce shot him a pointed look, glancing between the seat and the boy himself.

Huffing, Dick put down his arm and sat back down, the annoyance still clearly painted across his face. Crossing his arms again, he slumped in his chair.

Bruce sighed. “Now that there are no fingers being wielded at the dinner table, can you two please explain to me what’s going on?”

Tim startled at the gentleness in Bruce’s words. They weren’t what you’d seen on those mushy-gushy family TV shows about the power of love or whatever, but you could actually hear it in his voice. Tim was dumbfounded by the show of emotion, however minimal.

What happened to this Bruce? If Dick accused me of anything, Bruce would just yell at me or go through my shit until he either couldn’t find what it was or when Dick announced he’d actually misplaced the item and had found it. 

“Jason went into my room and put all my glitter everywhere, even in my bed ! Now I’m covered in it and it won’t come out. My good jacket is covered in it!” Dick started to raise his hand to point an accusatory finger to the boy in front of him, but thought better of it and lowered it to rest on the table. “My whole room looks like a disco ball thanks to that little creature.”

Jason just beamed.

Bruce stared at his son and sighed once more, pinching the bridge of his nose. Tim swore he could have heard him mutter ‘Clark, give me strength’ or something. What an odd thing to say.

“Jason, did you spread glitter around your brother’s room?” Bruce turned his tired, although amused expression onto his youngest son.

Tim was still, if not more shellshocked. This Bruce was showing actual emotion? Not just yelling? Tim had only ever seen anything close to this on his Bruce's face from afar, when he’d been ‘birdwatching’ the Wayne’s on their nightly patrols. Before Todd’s death. 

Tim was convinced his Bruce would spontaneously combust if he showed any emotion other than broodiness. He and Dick always laughed, joking about how Bruce was a secret robot agent sent from Saturn that would self-destruct if he wasn’t brooding. Well, they had. Before Todd’s return from the dead. Before Tim was thrust back into the silence he’d grown up in, no laughter or music filling his days.

Jason’s cheerful voice pulled Tim from his thoughts. “Why, dear father, would I do that to my favorite brother? I wouldn’t wish looking like a discount disco ball on my worst enemy!” A saccharine smile painted across his face.

“I’m your only brother!” Dick squawked. Bruce just sighed. Tim was starting to think he was going to be hearing a lot of those. Especially with how many shenanigans he and Jason were going to commit.

“Jaylad, Chum, my favorite youngest son. If you took your brother’s glitter, I would really appreciate it if you apologized to him. It wouldn’t feel very good if Dick stole some of your books, would it?” Bruce gave him an imploring look. When had Bruce ever talked about feelings?

Jason looked down at his hands in his lap. His smarmy smile slipped from his face, replaced with what Tim thought was an absolutely adorable pout. “I guess I wouldn’t really like that…”

He looked back up, turning from Bruce to Dick with an apologetic look in his eyes. Tim prepared himself for a smartass comment. “Sorry I took your glitter Dickie, I was just trying to be funny. I didn’t think it’d bother you so much.”

Huh . Tim turned towards the boy next to him. The teen’s head felt like it was on a swivel  as he continued to follow the conversation with all the shocking developments he was learning(The Waynes having any shred of emotional intelligence).

I know this has got to be a different timeline but what is this family on? First, Bruce is asking his sons to be open about their feelings and now they’re giving each other actual apologies? What is this witchcraft. Did Black Canary beat the basics of emotional maturity into them?

Dick huffed, the sound pulling Tim from his mini breakdown. Most of the annoyance left his face and he sat up in his seat. “I accept your apology. Just don’t go through my shit again.”

“That’ll be five dollars for the swear jar Master Dick,” Alfred said as he walked in the room. 

Dick jumped a little, clearly not expecting Alfred to walk in at that moment. Jason snickered quietly under his breath again, and this time Tim joined him in the laughter. He felt some of the tension leave his body at the topic change. 

Not that anyone but Jason could see his cackling, but the boy now seemed distracted by what Alfred was carrying. The man was holding a slightly steaming dish, and when he set it down, Tim couldn’t blame Jason for staring at the food before them.

At the center of the table rested an absolutely scrumptious looking lasagna if Tim did say so himself. It was served in a deep dish, with a golden layer of perfectly melted cheese blanketing the top of the pasta. Sprinkled on top were little flakes of basil, laid atop the cheese like it was grown just for this dish.

Tim, like this morning, had started floating towards the food. He only realized that he was quite literally being cut in half by the table when Jason cleared his throat rather loudly. Without realizing it, Tim had made it about halfway to the lasagna.

“Can’t a guy just look at a lasagna?” Tim pouted. That seemed to drag a smile out of Jason as Tim moved back to his seat. Tim felt a little bit of pride well up at amusing the kid.

“You okay there Jaylad?”  Bruce asked.

Jason nodded. “Yeah, throat's just a little dry. Next time, I won’t use my battle cries on a cockroach.” This seemed to satisfy Bruce, who now joined Dick and Alfred serving themselves.

Jason kept his head pointed in the same direction as his family but whispered to Tim. “Nope, eating privileges are for real boys.”

Tim burst out laughing. God I was not expecting that from him. I cannot wait to get into all kinds of shit with this little gremlin child.

As he watched and listened to the sounds of the happy, peaceful family dinner around him, Tim smiled. The Waynes deserved to be happy, and even if Tim didn’t do the best job the first time around, now he can finally be the Robin he’d meant to be. 

Even if they couldn’t see him, he’d do everything he could to protect them. Now, he just had to figure out how.

Chapter Text

Tim and Jason had been spending the last month goofing off and surprisingly, getting to know each other better. Jason had clocked pretty early that Tim must have had some kind of life before showing up for two reasons:

1. “All imaginary friends have a backstory Timmy, duh,”
2. “You seem to have more trauma than a baby imaginary friend should have,”

That last reason had made Tim start coughing from laughter.

It had been about a week into Tim’s ‘stay’ at the Waynes’ when the kid had asked him about where he came from. Tim had started to wisecrack with the regular “When a mommy and daddy love each other very much-” but that had just earned him another shoe through the head.

Tim let the rest of his laughter die off before answering the kid. “Well, it’s not as simple as you think. You know how I just popped up in your room?” Tim waited until Jason nodded.

“Well, I had a life before I came here. I was Robin in that life, hence the costume. I was saving a little kid your age when a bad guy got to me and kill- er, made me go to sleep. Then, I was here!” Tim explained.

I’m not about to explain the concept of death to this sweet baby. He’s probably already gone through enough as it is. Tim found himself getting protective over the boy over the past week. For some reason, he didn’t feel right just outright lying to the kid. Tim had a feeling Jason would somehow know he was lying.

“Hey! I’m not little! I’m ten and eleven twelfths!” Jason griped. After a second of his staring, Tim knew the boy wouldn’t let them move on until he’d acknowledged that No, Jason was not a little kid, he was a big kid.  

After giving an exasperated yet fond nod of his head, Jason continued on. “So, that means you were Robin in your backstory? You’ve gotta tell me stories, I bet you’ve got loads of them!”

Tim was nearly blinded by all the metaphorical light that was radiating off of Jason in his excitement. Jesus, I wish I had installed some kind of sun shades into the Robin domino. This level of happiness and cheeriness is just ridiculous. No kid is ever this happy.

Despite his inner grumblings, Tim couldn’t fathom not giving the kid what he wanted. He was already wrapped around the kid’s finger. “Of course I will. What kind of imaginary friend would I be if I didn’t tell you stories?” 

Jason pumped a fist in triumph. “Yes!” Tim could practically hear the happy little chorus of trumpets that seemed to follow Jason around singing in excitement.

Tim smiled at the boy, who was now doing a little dance in place. “I’ll tell you any story you want to know if… you tell me a little bit about you first.”

“Like what?” Jason asked, turning towards Tim and cocking his head to the side a little.

Jesus this kid needs to tamp down the cuteness. I have no clue how any criminal even tried to fight him when he was Robin.

“Well, how about how you ended up with the Waynes? The pictures on your walls only show you at what I think is 7ish to now, so I’m assuming you were adopted,” Tim asked. He tried to sound casual, not wanting to seem overeager.

This might be the divergence point for this dimension. Plus, it can help me figure out where each of the players of this world might fall. Joker, Sheila Haywood, and possibly Willis and Catherine if they somehow lived.

Jason’s face screwed up a little at the question, pausing his little happy dance and frowning. Tim instantly felt an intense jolt of overwhelming sadness shoot through him. It spread from his heart out to the tips of his fingers and toes, but was gone as quickly as it had appeared. What the heck was that?

Tim knew he felt some guilt at making the boy sad, but that was intense. Why would he be feeling sadness so strongly? Before Tim could investigate the cause of the wayward emotions further, Jason started talking, so Tim did what any Bat would do and shoved it into a dusty box in the deepest regions of his brain. 

I’ll have to investigate further later. I can’t tell if I’d rather it be a mini breakdown, lame, or something magical. I’ve had about enough magic shit to last me an entire lifetime.

“I don’t remember very well, only the big stuff. Mom was talking about finally getting out of the Alley, she was so excited,” Fondness softened Jason’s frown for a moment, but left as he continued speaking. “I was so excited to go with her, to finally get away from bad-dad. But she didn’t.”

Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes as he continued speaking. Tim moved to stand next to Jason, and reached his arms up to hug the boy before remembering he couldn’t. Couldn’t give the boy he was starting to see as a little brother something as simple as a hug. 

So, he did the best thing he could think of. Tim hovered an arm across Jason’s shoulder, a ghost of the real thing, but it was the only thing Tim could think of.

“Didn’t what Little Wing?” Tim asked, his voice softer than he ever thought possible. 

“She didn’t take me with her,” Tears finally did start to spill from Jason’s eyes. Tim’s heart broke a little at that. No, scratch that. He felt it slowly tear itself apart. Suddenly Tim was seven again, back in Drake Manor, wailing with no one to hear him as he watched his parents’ car pull out of the drive. Leaving him again and again. 

Tim had learnt to not cry. He knew it wouldn’t have changed anything, they just made him weak. Drakes do not cry Timothy. They are a sign of weakness. No son of mine will make a mockery of our name with such childish antics.

  But watching Jason cry, his little heart wrenching because his mother didn’t take him with her? That she chose something else over her own son? At that moment, Tim could only think of how strong Jason was, how kind he was. How he was still so open and caring after life had dealt him such shitty cards.

Tim didn’t think he could ever understand how his mother could let a child cry like this and call it weak. All Tim wanted to do when he looked at a teary Jason was wrap him up in a hug and a blanket and hide him away from the world. Away from horrible parents and anyone who would hurt him.

But he couldn’t. All he could do was mimic what he wished he could so badly do. What he wished was done for him. He moved a hand to hover over Jason’s cheek, his thumb helplessly trying to wipe at the tears he’d never be able to soothe away. “She left, left with bad-dad. She left me all alone.

“I didn’t know what to do, mom always took care of me. She bought me food when we could afford it and sang me to sleep when he couldn’t hear and even got me a new book on my birthday, but she left and I didn’t know what to do!” Sobs started to rack Jason’s little form, his shoulders hitching.

Tim felt the stinging sensation that came with crying start to well up behind his eyes but nothing came. Ah. Another thing it seems I can’t do. At least he won’t have to see me cry, especially not when I’m supposed to be here for him.

Jason continued, scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his forearm. “I got hungry and Mom took all the money she kept from bad-dad so we could eat. Bad-dad used to talk about taking the tires off of Batman’s car and how it would ‘get him out of this hell-hole.’ I thought maybe I could do that too, that way I could buy some food to eat.

“But when I tried to take off the wheel, Batman was there and it was so scary!” Jason’s crying subdued a little. Tim thinks it was probably the mention of Bruce that had him calming down, seeing as the man had taken an active role in being a good father.

Tim offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “What did Batman do?”

“Nothing! Batman wasn’t mad at me at all! He actually took me back to his Batcave and it was super cool!” The crying had all but ceased. The only evidence that pointed to him crying was his runny nose and red eyes. Jason was now wildly waving his arms around as he described how he’d met the Bat, going right through Tim’s torso and face.

“He showed me all his cool bar-gadgets and then I got to meet Robin! Then he asked why I tried to steal his tires and I told him I needed them because they’d make me super rich and that way I’d have money for food! After that, he got real quiet and asked why I needed money for food and I just told him I didn’t have any and that Mom had taken it when she ran away with Bad-dad, so I needed to get some on my own.

“Then Batman asked if I wanted to stay with him and I said ‘That would be so cool, I get to live with Batman?!’ That’s when he took off his bat-hat thingy and Dad was under it!” Jason’s smile started to brighten as he continued to regale his tale. 

“Well, he wasn’t Dad yet, but then he became Dad! He adopted me and everything and now I live here with Dad and Dickie and Alfie! And now you too!” Jason smiled at Tim. Tim felt just a bit dizzy as he took everything the boy had just said in.

Clearly, Jason got adopted much earlier than Todd did. He seems like he was sevenish when he started showing up in pictures, so I’m guessing that’s when Bruce found him.

This ‘Bad-dad’ only seemed to be an aggressor in Jason’s story and Tim could only think of one scumbag excuse for a human being that fit the description. Thinking about who Tim could only assume was Willis Todd, he felt a boiling rage rise in him.

God, I knew he was a piece of shit, but hearing it from little Jason just makes it so much worse. Tim backed off from Jason, moving from his side to about a foot away from him. He still didn’t know how this Jason liked to be comforted. From what Tim spied when he was leaving Wayne Manor after patrol, whenever Todd seemed upset, Grayson and Bruce would murmur gentle words a few feet away from the hulking figure. Any closer and Todd would lash out, guns and all.

Jason stood staring at Tim, a wobbly smile on his face. The sight tugged at Tim’s heart. How could anyone be so cruel to someone who was so willing to give, someone so full of kindness and sunshine it felt blinding to be around?

Jason, still sniffling a little, toed at the ground in his socked feet. “So, does this mean I get to hear a Robin story? You’ll tell me one?”

Tim would never understand how anyone could ignore the joyous trumpets that seemed to follow the boy around. They bounced off of everything, leaving no one untouched in his wake.

Tim smiled softly at the boy. “Of course I will,” 

As he launched into a tale about the time he walked on top of a giant penny through the batcave to chase out some assassins, er, sneaky ninjas, Tim wondered. He wondered how this loving, caring, silly little boy had turned into the Todd he knew.

Tim knew the pit certainly had something to do with it, no doubt about it. But from what Tim had found on the League database when he’d been kidnapped by Ra’s one time, that wasn’t what made Todd, well, Todd. The pit only accentuated emotions, never enhancing something that wasn’t already strong before.

As Tim recounted how he’d managed to steer the giant penny(apparently this batcave had one too), he felt another task cemented itself in his brain.

Along with making sure Jason was safe and alive, Tim was going to make sure he never became Todd. He didn’t think he’d survive it if the little brother he was letting himself come to know, to love even, changed into such a twisted version of himself.

𓅨𓅨𓅨

“C’mom Jason, we’re gonna be late!” Dick shouted from down the hall. Said boy was sitting on his floor, giggling at a joke Tim had made. When he heard his older brother’s yell, he grumbled.

“Stupid sixth grade. Why do I have to get up a whole hour earlier just to be told the exact same things as last year?” Jason muttered as he roughly shoved his shoes on. An adorable little pout had formed on the boy’s face and it took all Tim had to keep from cooing.

Today was August 11, the first day of school. Unfortunately for Jason, that meant getting up earlier than he had to for fifth grade. Suffice to say, the boy was not happy about the new arrangements.

Tim laughed at the boy’s grumbling. “Come’on, it won’t be that bad.” Tim’s chuckle turned into a fit of giggles at the sleepy glare Jason shot his way. Jason sported a worse bedhead than usual, a Wonder Woman watch that Tim was sure had all kinds of trackers, and his brand new Gotham Academy uniform.

Since Jason was moving between elementary to the six through twelve building, there’d been a change in uniform. The board claimed it was for safety reasons, but Tim knew from his time that it was actually because they were trying to make a quick dollar. It had been a whole big thing two years back in Tim’s world, exposed in the Gotham Gazette by an anonymous hacker. Totally not because of anything kind of intervention on Tim’s part. 

“I hate these stupid clothes,” Jason huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. No matter how funny Tim might find the situation, he could sympathize with the boy. He’d been dressed in the stark white button up, black striped tie, and matching black pants and blazer two years before he was meant to.

I might have been able to graduate early, but damn, I hated wearing that stiff collar. Tim unconsciously rubbed at his neck, his fingers brushing the raised fabric above the scar that lay right beneath the Robin uniform collar. His mind started to flash memories of all the different attacks, but Tim pushed them down and away.

I am NOT dealing with that shit right now, mental breakdown: denied. Drawing his hand away from his neck, Tim focused solely on Jason. This kid needs someone to comfort him right now or at least lighten his mood. I also don’t want another shoe through the face, even if I can’t feel it.

“Man, I hated those clothes too,” Tim said, kicking his feet up to float like he was reclining in a chair.

Tim smirked as Jason perked up. He knew the boy would latch on to the little detail. “What do you mean ‘I hated those clothes too’? Why did you have to wear them? Is this part of your mysterious backstory??”

“I mean, everybody has to go to school somewhere right? I just so happened to go to Gotham Academy before I went to sleep and showed up here,” Tim said as he moved in a circle around Jason, keeping his reclined position. 

I’m getting a lot better at this floating business. Who’s the sucker now Casper? Tim thought smugly, a smirk working its way onto his features. 

“Then you’ve gotta know these stupid pants and shirt freaking suck!” Jason exclaimed, his head turning constantly to keep up with Tim’s lazy circles around his head.

“Oh don’t I know it. I was even younger than you when I started wearing the highschool uniforms. I skipped two grades.” Tim said. He looked at Jason’s eager face. 

Damn this kid really likes stories. I guess that makes sense, what with Todd’s affinity for books is in the future. I’ve gotta tell him more stories. Maybe bedtime stories? Jason was now bouncing from foot to foot, waiting for Tim’s to continue. Yeah, I just probably insert some subtle lessons in those stories. Definitely will have to child proof them .

“You want to know what I did Little Wing?” Tim paused in his circling to stop in front of Jason. Jason nodded his head so hard Tim would be surprised he didn’t get a concussion. “I used to wear a T-shirt and only the collar cutout of a white shirt. Then, I’d wear a GA sweatshirt over it and nobody could tell.”

Jason looked like he had stars dancing in his eyes as he took it in. Tim didn’t think it was all that awe-inspiring. Well, if a guy was floating around my room in a pants version of the Robin suit, anything he said might have been interesting. That, and a chance to get out of those horror-inducing uniforms. Sensory HELL.

Bouncing up and down on his heels, Jason looked about ready to launch himself into the stratosphere. “That’s so smart! I’ve gotta get changed quick before-”

“Before what?” An annoyed, groggy voice came from the doorway.

Both Tim and Jason turned towards the sudden intruder. Standing, tapping his foot in the doorway, was a clearly agitated Dick Grayson. Before either had a chance to really react, Dick was speaking again.

“Who were you talking to just now?” The older boy ran a hair through his bedhead, clearly trying to tame it at least a little bit. Jason opened his mouth to say something, hesitantly a little.

This was not missed by his older brother’s sharp eye. Jason answered a second later. “I was just talking to, to… Terry! Yeah, he was saying how he wished I could stay home with him.” Jason put on a reasonably convincing pout as he picked up the pig stuffed animal that had been strewn across the boy’s floor.

Tim should have been surprised Jason had thought of something so quick, but Tim knew he was raised at least partially by the Bat. You’ve gotta have some kind of poker face. Otherwise, I’d never gotten away with anything. 

Unfortunately for Jason, so was Dick. He nodded, but there was a lingering suspicion that the older boy quickly covered up with agitation. Dick waved his arms in a ‘hurry up’ fashion. “Whatever, Alfred is about to leave. I don’t want to be late, c’mon!” 

Tim laughed as Jason did a full body grumble, dramatically throwing his head back and slouching. He threw the stuffed pig onto his bed and made for his backpack at a snail’s pace. Dick pinched the bridge of his nose as Jason dragged his feet to his bag, and when he did eventually grab his backpack, it was only by one handle. He moved not a muscle to put it on his shoulder, instead favoring the method of dragging it across the hardwood.

“You’re gonna give him an aneurysm,” Tim said, moving to walk beside Jason as he ever so slowly dragged his bag and feet across the floor towards Dick. The teenager was tapping his foot now with increasing speed.

Tim could tell Jason wanted to wisecrack back, but with Dick standing there, he paused. The only indication that he’d heard Tim was the slight shake to his shoulders and a quick glance at him. Before he even reached the door, Dick had had enough.

“That’s it!” Dick scooped Jason up like a sack of potatoes and threw him over his shoulder. He grabbed the Boy’s bag in his other hand and started walking down the hallway. “You take too damn long! We’re not doing this everyday!”

Jason just rested his elbows on the older boy’s back and faced Tim who was now trailing behind. He gave Tim an exasperated eye roll, but Tim could see the fondness in the small smile he tried to hide behind his hands as he propped himself up. Huh. This must happen often. It’s so weird to see them having any sort of friendship. Or any kind of brotherly bond. Todd would shoot Grayson if he got within five feet of him.

Tim felt a strike of bitterness and anguish. That’s the brother he chose. Tim shook his head, mentally berating himself. Stop that. I need to stop fantasizing. I was never more than an employee and Grayson was grieving. Of course he chose his brother. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of his kindness in the first place.

He looked back up to see Jason shouting to Alfred that Dick needed to put money in the swear jar. Tim’s mood had sobered up a bit, but he mustered up a smile at the pair of brothers. At least I know what they were supposed to be like. In another universe they really do get to be brothers.

𓅨𓅨𓅨

By the time the trio reached the school, they were laughing in the back seat. Tim could see Alfred looking fondly at the pair of boys in the rear view mirror. Dick had chosen to sit in the back seat with Jason, so Tim had decided to take the passenger seat. Surprisingly, when he tried to focus, he was able to sit on the seat. Without going through it.

Tim’s immediate reaction was to try to put his hand on the car door, but it went straight through. How does this shit work? After a whole month, I’m finally able to sit on something, but I can’t touch the door? 

Tim hadn’t had much time to consider it when they were pulling up to the drop off line. Tim had been kind of dreading coming back to Gotham Academy. Tim hadn’t left the manor since he’d gotten to the universe. Whenever he’d thought about leaving to do some canvasing of this new world, he felt something inside himself object. A feeling that made him feel uneasy just considering going out. 

So, while he was excited to get out, he was nervous. He stared out the window at the towering dark stone walls, he was brought back to his time there. Darla, on the floor in a puddle of her own blood. Ives, telling him he had Cancer.

God, I need to stop being such a baby. I’m Robin for God’s sake, I should be able handle death and disease. It’s just a building, Darla and Ives probably don’t even go here yet! If they’re the same age as I should be, they’re still in elementary.

Tim took a breath and phased through the car door. He fell in step with Jason towards the building, his cape fluttering behind him. Dick, who had been walking with Jason, shot off to join a group of people Tim suspected to be the older boy’s friends. With his older brother gone, Jason drooped, as if his energy had drained a little.

“What’s with the long face?” Tim looked around at the dozens of kids milling about. Jason weaved through them with his head held slightly bowed while Tim went right through them, slowing to match Jason’s slowed pace.

Jason glanced around quickly and whispered to Tim under his breath. “I don’t know anybody here. They’re all snobby meanie pants.” The boy was gripping his backpack straps now, a mixture of sadness and indignation coloring his face.

Tim frowned. What kind of asshole is mean to such a sweet kid? I swear to god, if it’s some wack ass trust fund baby, I’m gonna lose it. I can’t seem to escape them, in this life or the last!

Right as Tim was about to ask more, a group of three tall boys strutted up to Jason. Or rather, they walked on the tips of their toes while leaning back very awkwardly. Zits covered the leading boy’s face as he lifted his chin haughtily.

“Well well, look who showed up! The gutter trash actually made it past elementary, who could’ve guessed?” Zit-face smirked cruelly. Jason drew further into himself, his face going as blank as Tim thinks the boy could manage. Tim felt a wave of sadness and resignation punch him the chest, but the odd emotions were gone before he could grab hold of them. “Guess a street rat really can learn new tricks, huh?”

Tim felt his blood absolutely boil in his veins. He didn’t think he’d felt this much rage since, well, ever. In his very core, he felt this strange, alien anger burn into a hot, molten core. He felt himself start to tunnel vision, latching on to the kid who’d dared to spit such utter filth about his little brother. He swore his hair might have been raising, like a cat’s, but wasn’t paying much attention to anything other than the horrifying display in front of him.

He was wholly useless to take out that anger on the urchins that stood laughing before Jason. Tim was shaking, his jaw clenched as he glanced around, looking for Dick. If the older boy had seen any of this, he’d put a stop to it, morning squabble or no. Dammit, where is he? Your brother needs you and you’re off with your stupid friends!

Tim stood there, feeling soul wrenchingly helpless. He could only stand there and watch, frozen in his rage. It was only when the boys shouldered their way past Jason, making him stumble, did Tim move. 

He put himself in front of Jason, reaching his arm’s up to hold his shoulders. They, as they always would, went through him. Regardless, Tim moved his hands back to Jason’s shoulders, ghosting over them in a mock embrace. 

“Hey, don’t listen to those dickheads. They are so wrong,” Tim lowered himself to rest one knee on the ground, now looking up at Jason. The boy nodded slightly, but kept the somber, blank expression on his face, eyes trained at the ground. “I’m serious Jason. Look at me.”

Jason finally looked up to meet his eyes. In them, Tim saw as tears fought to escape the boy’s eyes. Like they were running from the blackhole of sadness that those baby blue eyes had transformed into. It hurt something in his very soul to keep looking into those twin abysses but Tim refused to turn away.

He raised a hand to Jason’s cheek, so close yet so far from the warm comforting touch he wished he could give. Tim found himself using that soft, gentle voice more and more for this sweet child as he spoke. “You are not gutter trash or a street rat. You are the smartest boy I have ever met. Those boys were absolute fucking shitholes and obviously so insecure in their own ability to simply exist that they have to take it out on someone as talented and loved as you.

“You are Bruce Wayne’s son, Dick Grayson’s brother, and Alfred Pennyworth’s grandson. You are and will always be Jason Wayne. Never forget you are loved, forever.”

Tim tried to convey how much he meant those words, hoping his face showed just how much he and Jason’s family cared about him. When he went to squeeze his shoulder, to ground him, his fingers went right through.

Tim felt a quick wave of sorrowful resignation, one that was not his own, as Jason tried to smile at him. It was wobbly at best, but his eyes betrayed how crest-fallen he was. Before he could get out another word, something else to make Jason understand how important he was, a shrill bell rang.

Kids started streaming past Jason towards the building. Tim’s face twisted into something earnest, almost desperate in his attempt to make Jason get it. He only got a short, quick nod from the boy. Without another wasted second, Jason turned his eyes back towards his feet and walked straight through Tim.

The sorrow he’d felt a moment ago increased tenfold in the seconds Jason stepped through Tim. Whatever breath Tim had died with felt as though it was wrenched from his lungs. Tim turned, clutching at his chest as he watched Jason walk into the building. His head hung as though he was a pig being led to the slaughterhouse, resigned to his demise.

What the hell was that? Tim sucked in air, trying to fill his lungs as both knees hit the ground. It was a few minutes later when Tim finally caught his breath. Letting go of the bunched up Robin costume, Tim placed a hand over his chest.

Did-did I just feel what Jason was feeling? Is that what that was? Tim furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. He thought back to the flashes of foreign emotions that had been coming and going over the past month. It had never been as strong as when Jason walked through Tim though.

What kind of fucked up shit did Sicarius do to me? Is it just Jason’s emotions I can feel? Tim glanced around. There were a few more students milling about. Tim looked to his left and saw two boys chatting and holding hands.

The platinum blond was closer to Tim. He was tall and looked to be about 16ish, and from the way he was staring at the brunette with a goofy smile on his face, he was clearly lovesick. Hmmm. Sorry for invading your privacy man, but I gotta test this out. You’ll never know.

Tim stood and trudged over to the pair, his cape swishing behind him. He stopped about a foot away. Suddenly, Tim felt a jolt of nervousness. C’mom Tim, get it together. Mama didn’t raise a bitch. Well, ‘mama’ didn’t raise nobody, but that’s not the point! Do it for Jason!

Tim hesitated for a second before swallowing and sticking his hand into the older boy’s chest. Warmth filled Tim’s chest and waves of what Tim could only describe as pure adoration coursed through him, filling every cell of his body. Tim stood stunned  for a moment, unconsciously soaking it in. 

After a second or two, Tim realized what it was he was feeling and that it wasn’t him feeling it. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit! I’m like Phoebe! From Charmed.

Pulling his hand back from the blond, he felt as the earlier warmth disappeared without warning. Without it, a surge of loneliness flowed through him. Damn, that shit sucks. Remind me not to go through people in love. 

Better to stick with this than try and get used to something I’ll never have. Love like that wasn’t made for someone like me, so there’s no point pretending. That shit’s addicting, and I’ve already gotten the ‘don’t do drugs or I’ll throw you in juvie’ speech from Bruce and Grayson. 

Tim moved his hands by his sides, the bones in his hands almost creaking from how hard he clenched them. He thought of his mentors employers. Even if they’re not here to see it, or well, anyone else, I can’t sully the Robin mantle just because I’m acting childish. I don’t need to be loved, I need to help the Waynes. That means Jason. He shouldn’t have to suffer because I’m distracted by trying to experience someone’s love for another.

At that, Tim squashed down the astonishment of his ability. He’d use it to get a better read on people or Jason if he needed help. Speaking of, I have a privileged bitch boy to hunt down. If I can’t find anything on him, I bet mommy and daddy have things they don’t want to get out. Tim smirked, his eyes narrowing as he rubbed his hands together like an evil fly. Time for Robin to do a little investigating. 

Chapter Text

How can you ruin a thirteen year old’s life? There are many ways. Tim has a few favorite options. Falsifying pictures of them robbing or stealing from a person in power, planting evidence that links them to a crime scene, or there’s always the classic, getting blackmail of crimes they actually committed.

Not that Tim would ever do any of that. Totally never did that to a few of the kids that had picked on Todd when he went to Gotham Academy. Pssh, Tim Drake? Commit federal crimes? Never . 

Anyways…

Now that he’s kind of limited on his options, he’ll have to narrow it down to the ones he can complete while being unable to touch anything. Tim had to be smart with how exactly he did this. Since he couldn’t interact with the physical world, he couldn’t create or plant anything incriminating on the kid. That meant he had to rely on intel collection. 

The problem was, he didn’t know who this kid was or where he lived. Jason clammed up whenever the other boy was mentioned, so Tim had to do some recon of his own. Which meant Tim had to wait for him to pop up again to follow him to one of his classes. Unfortunately, Tim didn’t find him again until two days later, on Wednesday. 

Tim was listening to Jason talk about the new book he’d started, The Princess Bride, during his lunch hour. The two were sitting in an alcove carved into the dark stone wall, Jason leaning against the wall, his smile wide as he waved his arms wildly, explaining how Buttercup had met “the Man in Black” after being kidnapped. 

Tim was sitting leaned against the wall as well, positioning himself near the edge so he still had a clear view of the school yard. He was sitting with one knee raised to rest his cheek on when he spotted the evil Alvin and the Chipmunks, about 20 feet away from them and heading in their direction.

Tim sat up straighter, moving to crouch defensively in front of Jason. Said boy had gone silent behind him. When Tim glanced behind him to check on the boy, he saw how Jason curled in on himself. “Jason, don’t listen to anything they say. They’re just stupid, idiotic dumbasses that probably don't know the difference between their, there, and they’re.”

Tim saw the smallest hint of a smile bloom on the boy’s face before he shoved it behind his mask. It only took another second for the boys to arrive.

“Awwww, the little Urchin’s still sitting all alone. Couldn’t find anyone to put up with your street stench?” The lead boy pinched his nose and waved a hand around, a viscous smirk spreading across his dumb fucking face. Behind him, his two cronies laughed. “Does Bruce Wayne know what a fucking loser he picked up? I bet he’ll realize any day now that you’re a disgusting little gutter rat. Then he’ll finally dump you back onto the streets where you belong.”

With each word, Jason hunched more into himself. He drew his knees up to himself, wrapping his arms around them. Through all of this, his blank mask remained. He stared at the ground, eyes trained on the patch of dirt Tim was crouched on.

The fury Tim had felt came back full force, a raging phoenix that had not forgotten who had wronged it. Tim felt himself rise, standing, no. He was floating about six inches off of the ground, his cape fluttering back behind him. Jason’s view of the boys was blocked, only hearing them now that Tim had placed himself between the two parties.

“Don’t listen to these pricks. You are not a gutter rat. You’re a Wayne, and the fact that you came from the alley, that you survived it, makes you all the more stronger than these crater-faced trust fund babies.”

Zit-face sneered. “Got nothing to say? I wouldn’t either, you know it's true. You’ll never be more than the charity case the Waynes’ll dump you back in the alley they found you in the second they realize how pathetic you are.” 

Tim was hit with an overwhelming surge of sadness, making his feet drop to the ground. He turned to glance over his shoulder. Jason was still sitting there, keeping up his blank mask except for the little tears that ran down his face. They followed the track the ones before had carved, soldiers running through a trench, fleeing from a battlefield.

The boys just laughed. Jason may not be able to see them, but they could see him. See the tears spilling down his face, the boy’s lunch forgotten in its green lantern tin next to him. No matter how much Tim tried to block him, shield him, he’d always be a one way mirror between Jason and the world. He just hoped that what Jason saw in his reflection would deafen him to the sharp words aimed at him.

The three billy goats gruff walked away, hee and hawing. Tim fumed as he watched their receding backs. Without another moment to spare, he followed. I’ll show these stupid fucks. 

In his utter rage, the unwavering urge to follow and to know and to ruin , Tim had forgotten the most important thing. Jason. As he stalked his prey, he didn’t look back. He didn’t see the crack in Jason’s mask. Tim didn’t see the betrayal, the dejection, and then the acceptance that danced across his face. He didn’t look back, so he didn’t see any of it.

𓅨𓅨𓅨

Smog painted Gotham’s sky, not even its elites could escape it. Stars were smudged in it, light snuffed out in its inky, heavy gray. If Tim wasn’t trained for stealth or invisible to most, it would’ve been the perfect stalking weather.

After following the three to their class, Tim learned their names. The leader was fourteen year old Littleton Harris, son of a mildly successful tire tycoon. From what Tim remembered from his life, the father and mother were involved in some kind of trafficking ring. His two cronies were brothers, David and Matthew Levington. 

All three were some of the dumbest, most idiotic human beings Tim had ever witnessed walk the Earth. On his watch of them, there were three separate instances of Littleton absolutely yelling at inanimate objects that he’d run into. David had tried to drink from the water fountain. Key word here is tried . Instead of simply holding the lever, he’d press it, let it go, then go in for a drink and then be surprised when the water stopped. Matthew had eaten styrofoam in his math class. How he’d gotten it in math class, Tim had no clue.

After an excruciating day of following those morons, the school day ended. Tim hadn’t gotten anything substantial except that they tormented many other students as well. Mainly the scholarship kids. Of course. It only makes sense that the elitists are also the stupidest. That tracks.

Tim wasn’t going back to Jason without some way to take these prats down a peg or fifty. So, naturally, Tim followed Littleton home. What kind of detective would I be if I didn’t check a suspect’s house?

All of this led to now, with Tim following behind Littleton as he walked into his parents shared office. Little moon light filtered through the blinds, hindered by that heavy Gotham smog. In the darkness, Tim could see as Littleton stood before the desk. His parents were waiting for him, his mother reclining in the desk chair and his father was absolutely stanced up behind her, arms crossed.

Tim tucked himself in a crevice on top of one of the bookshelves to watch, Hey, he might be invisible and unable to touch things, but he’s still Robin. At least, he’d like to keep up the illusion of it for a little while. Whatever. I still got finesse even when I’m dead. Can’t touch this.

Tim reached back to his belt and opened one of the compartments. He pulled out a BatPad 1.0 (not the period product Steph had so graciously named, BatPad 2.0) and a pen, readying himself to take notes. 

Over the past month, Tim and Jason had been goofing off when Jason had gotten curious about his utility belt. Eventually, he’d gotten a little pouty when Tim wouldn’t even try to open the pouches.

Now, Tim had tried prying the numerous pouches open quite a few times, but to no avail. Just to humor him, Tim tried to pull open the one on his far left that held his Batarangs. Now, he was expecting to give a few hearty tugs and have to deal with a mildly disappointed Jason Wayne. What he wasn’t expecting was for the damn thing to pop right open .

Since then, Tim had been able to go through all the pouches full of the tools and goodies he had died with. I’m so glad I packed a Zesti. Who cares if it takes a lot of room? A boy’s gotta get his caffeine somehow and this boy will not be getting it from some five hour energy if he can help it.

He’d been able to go to the Batcave after Jason went to sleep some days and gather information on the current events of this timeline. Nothing too important yet, but vigilance paid off. Tim goes down there just about every chance he gets, hoping to get something on the Joker he can use to warn Jason. Now, he can use the recorder he kept to play back audios he had recorded. Really helped when Bruce was watching some video of the rogues.

All this to say, Tim could take notes. He could write exact dates, times, and names without forcing himself to remember. I could. Don’t get me wrong, memorizing details is a piece of cake after Bat training. I just simply don’t want to remember all the shit things these people have done. I don’t want any more nightmares than strictly necessary, thank you very much.

“Littleton, did you get those children’s schedules?” Littleton’s mother, Sandra Harris, a tall, spindly woman with a shrill voice asked. Tim is just going to call her Bob Woman, in honor of that fuck ass bob on her head. Why would they need other kid’s schedules? Are they trafficking assholes in this universe too? 

Tim’s question answered itself in the next second. His father, Dennis Harris, cut Littleton off before he even opened his mouth. “Son, we have quotas to meet. How are we supposed to have clean, untraceable kidnappings if you don’t get us the information we need.”

That made Tim pause. Is Littlleton an jerkwad because his parents abuse him? Are they making him help in their fucked up little scheme? He felt conflicted. As much as he absolutely hated the kid and still wanted to ruin the kid’s life for fucking with Jason, Tim was still Robin. He couldn’t, no, he wouldn’t let another kid suffer at the hands of their own parents. Even if that kid was a bully like Littleton Harris.

“Of course I got their schedules. What do you think I am, an amature?” Littleton handed Bob Woman a stack of papers. “Those little street urchins are going to get what’s coming to them. We’ll show them to know better than to leave their station. The filth needs to learn their place in this world. At the bottom, under our boot.”

Tim floated closer, going from atop the bookshelf to hovering just above the paper’s in Bob Woman’s hands. Across them, there were two common themes. One: they were all schedules of Gotham Academy students. Two: they were all the names of scholarship students Tim had seen Littleton bully all day.

Okay. Sympathy gone. Littleton is the same bigoted, hateful little shrew Tim thought he was. And with the way his parents’ faces warmed into soft smiles, they seemed genuinely proud of him. Ew. He really just is the little asshole I thought he was. Actually, he’s even worse. Trafficking stupid ahh. I feel no remorse for what he’s about to get. Maybe a little glee.

With the confirmation that Littleton was a little fucking bitch that deserved all he got, Tim got to work looking around. He had to get all the details of the family’s dirty laundry right. His blackmail is nothing short of impeccable. Along with getting Littleton to stop bullying these kids, Tim aimed to get the Harrises arrested sooner than they were in his original world.

If I can help even just one kid, maybe… maybe Bruce might be proud. Even if he can’t see. Still. It’d be nice to imagine. Tim started searching, watching and listening for account numbers, names of business partners, anything these idiots were dumb enough to say aloud. Anything that would spook Littleton into keeping his mouth shut and his parents in jail.

𓅨𓅨𓅨

It was about 11:15pm when Tim finally made it back to Wayne Manor. He’d gotten great stuff, incriminating enough evidence that, when reported, would have to be investigated given the severity of the claims. Tim knew Bruce would make sure of it, especially since kids were involved. Snickering, Tim thought about the extra little detail he’d picked up while he was scouring for intel.

I can’t believe someone as big and bad as Littleton Harris is such a devoted Bubble Guppies fan. Don’t get me wrong, I’d be jamming out every time ‘it’s time for lunch’ came on but he would definitely call someone gay for it if he was in public.  

Tim rubbed his hands together like the evil little fly he was. Well, mostly. He can fly(float), he’s doing the weird hand rubbing thing, and while he can’t see 360 degrees, he can sense people’s emotions if he’s touching them. That counts as a sixth sense right? Heh, Sixth Sense. At least I know I’m dead. I pity you Bruce Willis, life must be so hard.

Gotta stop getting sidetracked. I can contemplate the merits of being an evil fly man and sympathize with Bruce Willis later. Now, I’ve got some planning to do. Tim slowed on his way to Jason’s room, going from moving like a steady breeze to a lazy gust as he collected and organized his thoughts.

All I need to do is get Jason to repeat after me. We’ll just have to wait for Littleton to appear like the little demon he is. Tim was nearing Jason’s bedroom when he heard it. Gut-wrenchingly quiet sobs. They’d be impossible to hear if the manor wasn’t eerily silent at night. 

An onslaught of utter despair flashed through him. It was nearly as strong as when Jason had walked right through him. Tim felt it emanate from his very core, aftershocks rocking his body as it migrated to his extremities.

Tim’s excited mood sobered immediately. He rushed towards Jason’s room, flying through the door without a second’s thought. Panic shot through him like a bullet to the heart as he raced towards the boy.

“Jason, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Tim rapid fired the questions. There, curled up beneath the covers, was a crying Jason Todd Wayne. Tim moved to sit on the edge of the bed spread.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong buddy?” Tim did a look over one, two, three times from his limited view but found no injuries. 

Jason’s sobs stuttered, moving his tiny fists from where they’d been smashed against his eyes. His eyes met Tim’s, going from surprised, to hopeful, to heartbroken, to resigned at the sight of him. His sobs picked back up just as quickly, pressing his palms back into his eyes.

Tim felt utterly out of his depth. Crying kids? No problem, Robin will give you a cheerful pep talk and quickly turn you over to an adult capable of finding your parents. A brooding, sometimes drunken Batman? Tim’ll drag your ass from the cave to your bedroom, wrangle you into bed and make sure you get some sleep.

In each case, there was almost always a clear cause, the common denominator. Something Tim could parse out and fix quickly or distract them from. Now? Tim had no clue what was wrong. Meaning, he didn’t know how to fix it.

“Little Wing, you’re going to have to look at me okay?” With a little more prompting, Jason finally looked up at him. In his eyes, Tim did not see the dancing glimmer that normally held center stage. No, that was gone, leaving only the scared, lonely little boy that he tried so hard to hide. 

Tim heard no joyous little trumpets playing. No, he heard a sad little cello, notes crying in a minor key. The melody was a misery, despair translated for the human ear to understand. 

“You’ve got to tell me what’s wrong, buddy, or I can’t fix it.”

“Y-You left me-e,” Jason sobbed. He scrubbed at his eyes and face, ugly tears rolling down his blotchy face. His shoulders hitched jerkily as the sobs wracked his little body.

What? Tim bluescreened. His face contorted as he went back through the day to try to remember what Jason could have been talking about.

“What do you mean?” Tim moved from the edge of the bed to sit right in front of Jason. He could probably figure this out on his own, but that’s not what Jason needed right now. Jason needed him now, and Tim couldn’t help if he didn’t know what exactly was wrong.

Sniffling, Jason sucked in a few shuddering breaths before trying to speak again. As he spoke, quiet little gasping sobs interrupted him.“W-When Littleton said tha-t I was a charit-ty case and that Dad and Dickie-e were gonna abandon me, y-you just left too-oo.” 

Realization snapped into focus so suddenly that Tim felt like he had whiplash. Shit. Fuck, I didn’t consider that Jason wouldn’t just know what I was doing. He definitely thought I was picking Littleton over him. Goddamnit, I fucking suck at doing anything right.

Tim’s face shifted, hoping his eyes practically emitted sincerity. “No, no, no. Darling, I would never choose anyone over you, let alone a little jackass like Littleton Harris.” That got him a little laugh in between sniffles. 

“I promise you, I will never leave you alone. You’re my little brother now, so you’re kind of stuck with me. For life,” Tim nodded solemnly, pretending to be serious. He smiled as a hint of a smile crossed Jason’s lips. “Imaginary friends never leave. I’ll always be there for you, no matter what happens. I’d fight Superman if it meant you were safe and happy Little Wing. Okay?”

Jason nodded, wiping his nose on the back of his arm. “Okay. But,” Tim waited for the end of the question. He looked imploringly at the boy in front of him.

“But what?”

Jason looked down, his eyes falling from Tim’s face to his hands. He sat, wringing them for a moment before speaking. “But why’d you leave me? I saw you follow them.”

A slow, devious smirk spread across Tim’s face. “Oh, Little Wing, you’re going to be so excited.” Jason looked up, meeting Tim’s eyes with a mixture of confusion and interest.

He’s such a cutie patootie when he furrows his eyebrows like that. Tim’s devious smirk turned soft. Then, his eyebrows raised as he processed what he’d just thought. When did I start using words like ‘ cutie patootie ’?? I need to stop listening when this universe’s Dick speaks.

A hand went clean through his face, jolting him out of his mini breakdown. “Timbo, are you going to tell me or not?”

“Alright, alright. So, I’ve got a plan to get Littleton Harris and his cronies to leave everyone alone. Permanently,” Tim started to rub his hands together like the evil fly he was, because really, he couldn’t help it. Oh well. What’s a boy to do?

Chapter Text

It’s August 14. Thursday morning, Jason got ready with a renewed vigor that Tim hadn’t seen since before school had started back up again. He smiled as the boy before him threw on his backpack.

Dick appeared in the doorway. Even from where Tim was floating, he could see the frustration and resignation on the teen’s face. He prepared himself for the usual brotherly: ‘let’s go, we’re gonna be late, walk faster, alrighty c’mere!’ Followed quickly by Dick throwing a sleepy Jason over his shoulder.

Before Dick could give his initial ‘Let's get going, Alfred’s waiting for us,” Jason breezed right past him. The teen stood stock-still, his mouth agape in utter shock. Tim couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him at Dick. It wasn’t often, or ever really, that Tim had seen him in true disbelief.

“Better close your mouth Dick, you’re gonna catch flies with that Looney Tunes ass expression.” Tim called over his shoulder as he floated after Jason. Obviously, the older boy wouldn’t hear him, but he wasn’t talking for the amusement of Dick in the first place. Jason giggled and that was all that mattered.

“Better get a move on Dickie, wouldn’t want to keep Alfie waiting,” Tim joined Jason, lowering himself down to walk beside him. The innocent little smile Jason threw over his shoulder at his older brother was priceless.

It was good to see the young boy in high spirits. Tim wouldn’t have believed that just last night, that brave little boy had been stricken with such grief and sorrow if he hadn’t been there to see it. The only hints it had ever happened was the slight puffiness around Jason’s eyes.

After today, I hope dickwads like Littleton and his little goons leave Jason alone. Tim looked down at the damning note she had taken the previous night, tucked  safely into one the front pouches on his utility belt. Along with it, Jason and Tim had worked out a rough script for what he’d say. 

It was mainly for Jason’s sake. While he had been adopted nearly 6 years earlier than in Tim’s dimension, the boy still had memories. Memories of what fear felt like, the fear of getting snatched off the streets. That he’d be forced to grow up faster than any child should have to just to survive.

No, Tim would feed him the best lines that would work for the moment. No matter what, they’d be claims that were so accusatory, but extremely factual, that the school and police would be forced to investigate. Especially when it was Bruce Wayne’s kid making the claims. 

These bitches are going down . Mama might not have raised me, but she did teach me to take no shit. I’m just using the Drake ™ scorn for someone she’d treat the same way as those bullies.

“W-wuh?” Dick finally sputtered out, concluding his rather amusing moment of dumbfounded silence.

Tim snickered, keeping in step with Jason. “He looks like he’s going for gold in olympic gapping.”

That really got Jason. He had to pause, gripping his stomach as he doubled over with laughter. Tim’s snicker transformed into a fit of giggles. The force of it along with his slip of control had him falling forward, his legs going up like a light switch being flipped on. He ended up completely upside down, his hair floating towards the ground as he gripped his stomach.

Snorts filled the air. “I-I didn’t think it-  it was that funny. Nice to know ‘ol Timmy can still roast the absolute shit out of Dick Grayson, even as an imaginary friend.”

Through the laughter, Tim watched a right side up Dick sigh fondly. He headed over to them, or well, just Jason seeing as Dick had no clue he was here. Jason was on his side, curled up laughing. That laughter of his sure was infectious.

Tim watched as Dick hauled Jason over his shoulder. He could hear it now. The little trumpets that followed Jason, the ones that had gone near silent these past few days, overtaken by sad cellos. Now, all he could hear was bright notes from the chorus of Jason’s soul. 

“C’mom early bird, let’s grab a quick breakfast before we go. Wouldn’t want this cheerful mood to turn sour just because you got hangry,” Dick strolled down the hallway, slinging Jason’s backpack over his other shoulder. “Anyways, what’s got you so cheery this early Jay? You’re normally a real Mr. Hyde before you’ve gotten breakfast.”

A smile split across Jason’s face, so wide and mischievous, he could give Harley a run for her money. Given that Dick couldn’t exactly see Jason’s face from where he was carrying him like a sack of potatoes, all he heard was the innocent voice.

“Nothing really,” Jason winked or at least tried to wink at Tim. He did kind of a frog blink, turning his head to the side for the full dramatic irony bit. “Just excited to go to school today. I think it’s gonna be a real great day.”

Tim moved to float right behind Dick and Jason, moving at the same pace. He had about a foot between him and Jason. “Oh yeah. We’re going to have an amazing day. Those little fuckers won’t know what hit them.”

Jason giggled, assumably at Tim’s use of the words ‘little fucker.’ Man, he is so easy to entertain. All I have to do is curse and tell him a deeply sanitized Robin story and he’s happy as a dog with a bone.

As they entered the kitchen, Dick pulled Jason down and set him on his feet, steadying hands on his shoulders while the younger boy adjusted. “What’s with all the giggling this morning? Really, you’re never this happy, especially not for school .”

A British accent cut through the crisp morning air. “Master Richard, there’s no need to question your brother so thoroughly this early in the morning. The boy is happy. Best not to interrogate him, lest it causes his jovial mood to leave him.”

Alfred gave a pointed glance to Dick, then looked to Jason, smiling. “Now, my dear boys, what would you like for breakfast?”

“Whatever it is, do not eat the waffles,” Tim shuddered as he remembered the one and only time he’d spent breakfast with the Waynes. 

𓅨𓅨𓅨

It had been near five am when the dynamic duo had returned from patrol and a storm was raging outside. By the time Tim would’ve made it to his house, it would have been far late to make it to school on time. He’d have no time to dry off from how the sheets of harsh rain would have drenched him. A mile in the rain probably would’ve given him a cold too and then he’d be no use on patrol.

So, he’d stayed at Wayne Manor. He wasn’t given a room or anything, just slept for an hour or so on a cot in the batcave as the others headed up. When he woke, he’d beelined for the garage to leave. The kitchen was between the batcave and the closest entrance to the garage, so he’d just gone that route, not expecting anyone to be present.

He was mistaken. As he entered the room, he took in the beautiful marbled counters, the dark wood counters carved decadently adorning the walls. At the island sat Bruce and Grayson, with Alfred bustling around, cleaning dishes.

Tim blushed in embarrassment. He tried to sneak through quietly. Dammit Tim. Of course they’re here eating breakfast, that’s what families do. I just need to get through without bothering them. I cannot take another harsh training session today. My muscles already feel like putty.

Pulling his bag tighter, he moved to creep towards the door on the far wall that would get him to the garage. Alas, no dice.

He had nearly reached the door, hand outstretched to reach the knob when a voice sounded. “Timmy! Where are you going?” Grayson had called out, nearly tipping over in his bar stool. Tim opened his mouth to answer but couldn’t even get a word out before Grayson had steamrolled over him.

“C’mom, grab some breakfast with us! I know you’ve gotta be hungry after a long patrol like that!” Tim, shoulders slightly hunched, hesitated, slowly pulling his hands back from the door handle. They can’t really want me here for breakfast right? Dick’s just feeling guilty for how he treated Jason, so he’s trying to mother hen me. I should just leave.

Despite his thoughts, Tim felt a flutter of hope well up inside him. Betraying his any sort of self control TIm loved to pride himself on, he steadily made his way over to the marble island. While he saw Grayson smiling wide, Bruce, who had been giving his son a small, rare smile, now sat stoned faced. 

Tim set his bag down and climbed onto the stool next to Grayson. Before he could do anything Alfred set down a plate of waffles in front of him. Tim opened his mouth, intending to say thank you to the old butler, but was cut off. This time, it was Bruce that spoke.

“Tim, last night’s patrol was unacceptable,” Tim winced as he remembered. They’d been fighting Ivy and Killer Croc, the two joining forces for reason’s Tim couldn’t figure out. While trying to shoot Croc with a dart to knock the large creature out, a vine from Ivy’s attack on Batman and Nightwing had gone wide and slammed into Tim’s torso.

His rebreather had cracked and he’d lost consciousness as his body made impact with the concrete wall. When he’d woken, Tim had seen Batman kneeling over him, a scowl on his face. Apparently, Robin going down had made the fight that much harder for the original dynamic duo, and the fight had taken a lot longer than they’d all expected.

“Sor-” Again, Tim was cut off. 

“Yeah, after you went down, it was not a fun battle,” Grayson chimed in, munching on a piece of bacon. “Really Timmy, I almost broke my arm! You’ve gotta be more careful next time, someone could get seriously hurt.”

Tim nodded, pointedly not gripping at his bruised, possibly broken ribs. Instead, he raised a fork full of waffles to his mouth. His face twisted as the flavor hit his taste buds. It was downright awful . It’s like Killer Croc and Scarecrow decided to make a breakfast line for the dead.

He fought to keep his face neutral. He could hear his mother correcting him in the back of his mind. Seriously Timothy. They offer you food and you grimace? You think of insults in response to generosity? The Drakes are polite and I will not have you sully the name your father and I have made because you can’t remember your manners.

Bruce started up again, pointing out all the things Tim had done that could have gotten him and Grayson killed, Grayson nodding along as he ate his breakfast. Tim just sat there, forcing himself to eat the food in front of him and pay attention to everything they said. I’m going to get them killed if I keep screwing up. I won’t mess up again. I can’t.

He was late to school that day.

𓅨𓅨𓅨

Dick and Jason shoved at each other to get to the island first. Tim definitely understood why. On top were three or four different flavored scones along with some fruit and two glasses of milk. 

Unfortunately for Tim, all he had in his utility belt were two chocolate bars and that can of Zesti. At least a few seconds after he ate them, they’d reappear back in the wrappers and the can would reseal itself. He only felt full for a moment and it was kind of gross, but it was better than nothing. I’d rather not think about the mechanics of it. If this is the food I’m stuck with for eternity, then I’d very much like to keep enjoying it.

The boys scrambled to shovel food in their mouths as fast as they could, both not wanting to be late for differing reasons. For Jason, Tim knew it was because he was ready to put this Littleton business to bed, and for Dick. Well, Tim just assumed he was happy to see Barbara or any of his other friends.

Alfred looked on fondly at the boys as he shook his head. “Come now boys, the food is not going to disappear. Please remember to breathe between those animalistic bites.”

“Sorry Alfie,” The boys said in unison, finally slowing down and taking normal sized bites at a regular human pace.

“Hey man, if I had Alfred’s cooking in front of me, I’d eat like that too,” Tim said, moving to sit cross legged on the counter, diagonal to Jason. “Trust me, I can be a real big back.”

That had Jason laughing so much he snorted milk out of his nose.

At the commotion, Dick and Alfred turned their attention to him. Dick patted his brother’s back as he coughed. “Jay, seriously, what was that? Are you okay?”

Jason spoke between his laughter and coughs. “So-sorry, Timmy said something- really funny.”

At that, the others froze, Tim included. Well shit. Now they’re going to get Zatanna, or God forbid, Constantine to take a look at Jason. Then it’s bye-bye for ‘ol Timmy.

“Timmy?” Dick asked, his hand moving little circles on his brother’s back. There wasn’t any obvious suspicion, but Tim could see the confusion in the teenager's eyes. “Who’s that buddy?”

Jason, still caught catching his breath from coughing and laughing, answered without really registering the question. “Oh, he’s my imaginary friend! He’s really funny, he tells the best jokes!”

Well. Guess this is the end for Tim Drake, imaginary friend extraordinaire. It was a nice month, but I’m guessing I’m going to get exorcized. Where Tim expected a worried glance between Alfred and Dick, he just saw both breathe a sigh of relief. 

Okay. That was not the reaction Tim was expecting. 

Alfred just continued on smiling, completely oblivious to Tim’s mini crisis. “That’s nice to hear Master Jason. Now, it is time for school boys. Please grab your bags and meet me in the car.”

This is tripping me out. Pennyworth and Grayson and especially my Bruce would have me locked in a containment cell in the Batcave if I mentioned an imaginary friend. If nothing else, they’d bench me while they did a full scale psych eval. Tim shook his head. Guess Jason’s death really affected them in more ways than I thought.

𓅨𓅨𓅨

Jason revealing to his family that he had an imaginary friend had been wholly uneventful, more of a passing comment than anything else. Tim had not expected that, but was glad for it. Any day people didn’t try to exorcise him was a good day. Now though? He was hoping for some sparks to fly.

As the boys arrived at school, Dick threw open his door and shouted a quick goodbye to Alfred and bolted off to his friends as he always did. Jason usually took his time getting out of the car, but today? Today he was hopping out the car like he had a fire burning under his ass.

Tim saw the brief look perturbment on Alfred’s face before the butler smoothed it out as he phased through the car door. Even though he knew Alfred couldn’t hear him, Tim couldn’t stop himself from whispering. “Drive safe.”

He chuckled to himself as he made his way over to where Jason was bouncing on his heels ten feet away. “Excited?” Tim knew how excited Jason was. He could quite literally feel waves of it crashing over him every few seconds. Tim also felt a growing nervousness from the boy as well.

Jason bit his lip and nodded his head minutely. Once they’d gotten in the car that morning, Tim had told Jason it wasn’t a good idea to let people know he had an imaginary friend. Now that Dick and Alfred knew, so would Bruce. Now that Tim knew they weren’t concerned about their son, he didn’t mind it.

He was just worried kids would find another reason to bully Jason if they thought he had an imaginary friend. So, he told Jason not to react to him too much when they were around people that weren’t his family. As much anxiety as it was going to give Tim, chancing this world’s Batman really finding out what he was, Tim didn’t want Jason to have to keep that secret.

“Alright, just like we planned. You’ll wait somewhere crowded until Pimpleton shows up. When he opens his mouth to spew shit, don’t let him,” Tim knelt down on one knee in front of Jason, much like how he had mere days ago. He brought a hand up to Jason’s cheek, trying to mimic the comfort a real one might bring. “I’ll tell you all you need to say Little Wing. I’ll be right in front of you, you won’t even have to look at him.”

Jason nodded again. He tilted his head towards Tim’s hand, almost like he was trying to lean into it. When Tim’s hand went through his cheek, he felt the continuous nerves wracking Jason along with the drummed up excitement. It nearly gave Tim a headache with how strongly he was feeling the boy’s emotions.

Can I even get headaches like this? Tim blinked his eyes rapidly, feeling the domino press awkwardly into the skin of his brow. Standing up he moved to stand beside Jason. Now that they had things mostly squared away, they had classes to go to.

𓅨𓅨𓅨

Littleton didn’t make his appearance until lunch. Up until that point, the day was going rather well. Scratch that, it was going the best Tim had ever seen. Granted, this is only the fourth time he’s gone to school with Jason, but the difference was astonishing.

Where Jason had been subdued, choosing to write the correct answers to questions in his notebooks rather than raising his hand, now he was raising his hand higher than most, nearly standing in his seat for a few questions in English. Where the boy would keep his head buried in his arms, now he sat up, attentive and finally happy to be there. 

The sight warmed something deep in Tim’s chest, a soft but steady glow of a fireplace as he curled up to read a book. Tim who’d tried his best to chat with the boy these last few days, trying to get him to simply smile, now silent as he smiled softly at Jason. I don’t want to interrupt his day. Jason’s having a good time, he doesn’t need me bringing it down.

Currently, it’s lunch time, and Jason and Tim are in their favorite little alcove. Jason sits in his usual spot against the innermost part of the alcove, leaning against the bricks. Tim stands where he sat yesterday, on the edge of the beginning of the alcove, on the lookout for the bullies.

Jason picked up right where he left off, or, well, was interrupted yesterday. Waving his sandwich around, he described the world of The Princess Bride. Tim smiled as he watched little bits of tomato fly out of the sandwich as it was jerked in many directions as Jason reenacted a sword fight. From the courtyard, it probably looked like Jason was talking to himself, but Tim had made sure Jason had set up his phone to look like he was on facetime.

Tim heard them rather than saw them approach. It was a whole lot of jeering and sneering at the kids they passed, making stupid faces at them. Looks like the fuck face brigade has finally made shown their faces.

Tim kicked off the wall, giving his cape extra flourish as it swished through the air. Why? Because Jason’s dramatics are starting to rub off on him and I’m just a boy, let me have flair .

“Idiots incoming at 1 o’clock. Get ready to repeat after me,” Glancing over his shoulder, he caught the subtle nod Jason gave him. “Just stay behind me. These jerks may be able to see you, but you’ve got an advantage. You don’t have to see their stupid faces, so you live to see another day. That much ugly in one place could blind a grown man.”

At that, Jason giggled. “Roger that Timmy!”

Despite Tim’s little pep talk, Jason still seemed nervous. Tim didn’t need whatever ghosty powers he got when he died to tell him that much. Regardless, no matter how Tim explained they could wait until he was ready, Jason insisted they get this done today.

Sitting cross legged on Jason’s bed last night, the younger boy stared at his hands as he explained. Jason had seen how Littleton had been treating all the other kids and he was tired of it. He’d huffed and lifted his eyes to meet Tim’s. They were steely, unwavering.

“Sure, I’m a little scared. But so are they. If I’m ever Robin one day, how could I save anyone if I couldn’t save my classmates from someone as small as Littleton Harris? Robin’s magic. He saves everyone, no matter how little or big, no matter how scared he is. That’s what Dick does.

“It’s what you did. It’s what you still do. You’re helping me even though you don’t hafta. You’re Robin.”

Those words had unlocked something in Tim. Soothed an ache so deep, he thought he'd been born with it. His head felt lighter, his shoulders looser. This Jason might not have known the leech he had been to the Waynes of his world, but hearing it from his childhood hero, his Robin ? Tim could die happy.

Been there, done that. Hoping I won’t have to do it again, but with the Bat luck? Who knows. Tim rolled his eyes at the prospect of a second death. Stranger things have happened.

“Lookie here! Gutter Rat still thinks he can come to Gotham Academy and fit in,” Littleton sneered as he approached. Tim raised an eyebrow.

“Is he really that unoriginal? He’s just rotated Gutter, street, and urchin and mashed it together with Rat,” Tim crossed his arms and popped a hip like the diva he is (Steph taught him that). “He must really struggle in English if that’s all he can come up with.”

Tim heard Jason hold back a snicker, dropping his head to nibble on his sandwich. For this to truly work, he had to act like he always did. Small and meek, a kid who wasn’t going to put up a fight, who’d just take it. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” Littleton must have had a real bee up his ass today. He stomped his foot like the child he was. “You speak when spoken to Rat!”

“Jason, gather your things and head for the tree at the center of the courtyard,” Tim looked at the boy, pointing two fingers from Jason to the tree in one fluid motion. “We need a crowd of witnesses.”

Jason nodded. Presumably, Littleton took it as an acknowledgement of his words, seeing as he couldn’t see anyone but him speaking. He got a self-righteous smirk, and crossed his arms with an up turn of his nose. “Finally, it seems someone has learnt their place here.”

Tim rolled his eyes yet again. Damn, I gotta stop doing that everytime people like Pimpleton do anything or I’m going to have chronic headaches. He stepped to the side, readying himself to walk beside Jason as they headed over to the designated spot.

The smirk disappeared, replaced with an embarrassed flush when Jason packed up his things and strode right past him. Sputtering, he turned to point at Jason. “Hey, don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you! Do you know who my father is?”

Jason held his head high as he continued on his path towards the great oak tree. Tim just scoffed at the exclamation. “Is that kid just a walking cliche? He should really get more of a personality. Rich entitled brat is not a good look for anyone.”

Again, Jason shot him a small smile. As expected, a furious Littleton followed them, cronies in tow. “Stop! Stop walking away from me!”

Jason sat with his back leant against the tree, Tim taking up his post in front of Jason. “You talk a lot for a little guy.”

Littleton stopped in his tracks. In fact, everyone around stopped what they were doing. Everyone loathed the bully, but no one had ever stood up to him. They were used to the status quo and now that it was being challenged, it was silent.

Perfect. Man, I love an attentive audience. Tim felt himself slip into Robin. The Robin he was around Young Justice, cocky and intelligent. It didn’t matter that no one but Jason saw him. Tim had a role to play and play it he would.

Before Littleton stopped bluescreening Tim started speaking. “Bold of the child of human traffickers to ask if I know who his father is. Like, do you really want everyone out here to know the answer?”

Jason repeated after him, adding a curse or two for flair. Whispers started, kids turning to each other and side eyeing the five of them. Littleton was getting red in the face now. Good, stay embarrassed. 

He bulldozed on, not wanting to lose the momentum Jason had created. The key was to keep going, giving the crowd a story they’d never regret. Even if Littleton never bothered Jason again, Tim wanted to make sure the whispers never left him alone. He hoped Littleton wouldn’t go another day without being reminded of what a shit kid he was. What he’d almost and probably already helped his parents do to other kids.

“I know what he does. Dennis Harris, age 47. Your mother, Sandra Harris, age 44. Both owners of a mildly successful tire tycoon,”  Jason repeated, continuing to nibble on his sandwich, meekness gone. In its place sat Jason Todd, confident and unwavering. Tim could see the Robin this boy was going to become.

Without warning, Tim felt an overwhelming rush of confidence, nervousness, and vindication. Looking down, he saw Jason. Jason, who’d stood up and stepped through Tim, so he could look Littleton in his eyes. Tim felt a swell of pride, one he could easily identify as his own. He didn’t so much as stutter as he continued to speak, stepping back to give Jason room to continue obliterating the little asshole in front of him.

Littleton raised a pointed finger, ready to tear into Jason for the slight against his parent’s business. Jason didn’t even give him a second to speak. “Except, that’s not the whole truth is it? Put your finger down, it's rude. Did your mother not teach you that in between kidnapping children?”

The red that had been building up on Littleton’s face slowly seeped out, turning paler and paler with each word Jason repeated. “Th-that’s not true. You-You’re lying! That’s slander, I’ll sue you!”

“I think your parent’s lawyers will be too busy trying to keep their own asses out of jail. Even Gotham penitentiary inmates hate predators and child traffickers. Maybe you’ll end up an orphan like me?” Tim was on a roll and Jason was delivering each line perfectly. 

A crowd was starting to gather around the tree, hundreds of eyes watching the scene like it was this week’s episode of The Bold and The Beautiful. Littleton was looking around, his eyes darting back and forth at the horde of students looking on with disgust and suspicion.

“I think you’d better run along. You won’t have much time to say goodbye before I tell the authorities about how you stole the scholarship student’s schedules.” Any color that was left in the kid’s face drained. He opened and closed his mouth, gaping like a fish. His two buddies, who had been looking increasingly anxious, bolted.

Tim smirked. “Don’t forget to give him a smile! It always creeps people out if you smile after threatening them.”

“Yeah, I know you did that. I know whose schedules you took and I know what your parents were planning on using them for too.” At that, Littleton looked defeated. Jason smiled sweetly, like he hadn’t just threatened to ruin the kid’s life. Looking around, Littleton ran, like a dog with its tail between its legs.

The crowd of student’s didn’t part. Tim watched as he struggled to push through the bodies, facing disgust and anger at every turn. Eventually, he made it through them, beelining for the school building.

“Hey, Hey, what’s all the commotion for?” A voice called from outside the crowd. Tim perked up. He knew this voice. He stepped around Jason to get a better look. “C’mon, clear out. There better not be a fight at the center of this crowd!”

As students scattered, Mr. Jensen walked up. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up, almost like was expecting to be breaking up a fight. Well, he probably was. Kids don’t just huddle up like that for much.

Tim felt a wave of nostalgia hit him. Mr. Jenson was his math teacher, one he’d particularly liked. Well, he had been Tim’s math teacher before he went and got himself killed by a drug lord lunatic. Surprisingly, it hadn’t been the one specifically gunning for Tim.

It was strange to see Mr. Jenson, especially now. The man looked a decade younger than the last time Tim had seen him. Gone was the scruffy beard, replaced by a baby shaven face. Wrinkles that had been deep set were now just barely showing.

The shift was a bit jarring. Sure, Tim had gotten used to the younger versions of the Waynes, but to see other people changed? It was an odd feeling.

Mr. Jenson breezed right through Tim, stopping in front of a standing Jason Wayne. Concern and annoyance reverberated through Tim as he turned towards the two. “Mr. Wayne, would you mind explaining what just happened? I couldn’t help but overhear a few of those accusations. That’s serious business, are you sure of what you said?”

A sweet smile grew on Jason’s face. To any other person, it looked like any other ten year old might put on, but Tim saw the deviousness in it. “Of course. I have evidence. Would you like to hear?”

Mr. Jenson sighed. Me too man. If I had to do the amount of paperwork you’re about to, I’d probably just jump out a window with no grapple. You won’t catch me working an office job even if it kills me. Well, kills me a second time.

Chapter Text

Things wrapped up rather nicely. Mr. Jenson was forced to file a police report based on what Jason had told him. Littleton was suspended indefinitely pending expulsion and possibly criminal charges not only for bullying, but for stealing and copying the schedules of at least twelve scholarship students. The idiot hadn’t checked if there were camera’s when he’d snuck into the registrar’s desk to get the files. Tim was surprised he’d gotten that far in the first place.

By the end of the day, Batman and Robin had made a surprise visit to the Harris’ and found the evidence one Jason Todd Wayne had claimed would be there. With the word of not only the city’s richest man, but the Batman himself, the two were immediately arrested, along with a long list of their documented associates. Robin was particularly ruthless in their arrest.

No wonder they got caught in my timeline. They’re entirely too sloppy and dumb enough to not cover their tracks. It really shouldn’t surprise Tim at the lack of critical thinking skills of the Gotham elite. Then again, they were in the business of human trafficking, so the bar is already below hell.

A slightly unexpected but entirely welcome side effect of Jason’s little performance came. Kids still whispered around him, but now it wasn’t mocking. It was fearful, with a little respect. No one could have gotten Littleton Harris to leave them alone before, but not only had Jason achieved that, he’d gotten him suspended and his parents put in jail.

Suffice to say, they treated him like he was their school’s own mini mafia boss. It made Jason a bit nervous, but Tim thought it was for the best. Now, people like Littleton were less likely to bother Jason lest they incur his wrath. 

I’ll keep gathering information. Just to be safe. Tim did in fact plan on stalking, I mean, doing some detective work. For most kids, he’ll just have a small file of dirt that he can have Jason ominously reference if the need arises.

All in all, Tim thinks today is a job well done. Littleton is gone for at least a little while and Jason seems happier than he had been in days. A win is a win. I’ll take it. 

𓅨𓅨𓅨

That night at dinner, there was a strange tension in the air. While Jason was practically salivating over the chicken parmesan and garlic green bean casserole, Tim noticed the looks Dick and Bruce had on their faces.

Don’t get him wrong, that chicken looked like the bread crumb crust would bring him to tears and the green beans to his knees. Unfortunately for Tim, which was rather fortunate for Jason, was the fact Tim could not stop noticing things. His mind scanned every room for potential threats, possible exits, so on and so forth.

So when Tim and Jason had arrived in the dining room that Thursday evening, Tim hadn’t joined Jason in staring at the mouth watering spread Alfred had prepared. No, he’d immediately clocked the strained smiles and tight eyes painted across Bruce and Dick’s faces.

The school must have called them. Tim floated as he followed Jason to the table. As Jason sat down, Tim chose to pirch himself on the back of the chair. His cape dramatically fluttered behind it, passing in and out of the chair itself as it moved. Jason gave him a side eye, clearly finding his imaginary friend’s behavior strange. But this was Tim, so he did nothing else.

Bruce’s eyes, ever the eagle, spotted the interaction. Well, as much as he could with Tim being invisible to him and all. “What’s so interesting about the ceiling Jaylad?”

Jason froze for a second. Tim knew he was contemplating whether or not to tell the truth or make something up. They knew Dick was ‘in the know,’ but were uncertain if he’d gotten around to telling Bruce. Jason pulled his napkin on his lap. He was stalling, waiting for his Dad to make the first move. Tim cocked his head, watching the interaction closely.

Smart kid. Don’t give the enemy anything. Despite knowing they weren’t the Waynes he knew, Tim still couldn’t quite shake the way his heart jack rabbited each time a voice was raised. He couldn’t help getting tense, then smoothing out that tension so they wouldn’t notice anytime he saw a path for the conversation to go bad if he said anything remotely related to something that might upset them.

No, it would take some getting used to. Tim knew he’d never stop looking for it, not completely. While this was the best reality he could imagine, things could go wrong at the drop of a hat or a snap of a finger. All it took was one bad day or week or year, and all that goodness could all go down the drain. Tim would continue to watch for Jason. Even if his hair turned gray as he spent eternity in this damn suit, he’d look out for his little brother.

Waiting seemed to be the right option. “Is Timmy there?” Bruce asked nonchalantly before he sipped at his drink. Jason’s eyes darted up to Tim again, nervous. The perched ghost boy sighed, seeing how Bruce zeroed in on the second upward flick of Jason’s eyes. Well, if Bruce had his doubts before, they certainly aren’t there anymore.

“He already knows Little Wing,” Tim stared down at the kid from where he was crouched. He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile, gesturing towards Bruce with a wave of his hand. “He isn’t mad, he just seems curious. Dick and Alfred already know, so it’s probably time Bruce does as well. Go on.”

After getting the go ahead from Tim, Jason smiled widely. Though Tim could still see the residual nervousness in the kid’s eyes, he could tell he was excited. Relieved even. It couldn’t be easy keeping secrets from his family. 

I’m lucky I didn’t have to deal with that. Even when Mother and Father were home, they were always out brokering some business deal. Made keeping Robin a secret so much easier.

“Yeah, he’s on the back of my chair!” Jason smiled jovially at Bruce, grin wide.

Tim watched for Bruce’s reaction like a hawk. Is he going to be chill or is today going to be the day I get exorcised? His old world self did call me devil spawn that one time.

Instead of a switch in mood, Bruce just smiled. One of Tim’s eyes twitched. I’ll never get used to that. Where is the emotional repressed, ‘Batman doesn’t have feelings’ Bruce I knew? This dimension is going to drive me insane. Mentally stable people are so infuriating.

“That’s nice,” Bruce lied like the lying liar he was. There’s no way the Batman is okay with his kid having an imaginary friend. If this were Dick, he’d have off patrol for a week while he got the justice league to run every kind of test possible.

Unaware of Tim’s inner turmoil, Bruce continued. “I hope he is doing well. I’m glad you have a friend to talk to whenever you need one.”

“What the actual fuck.” In his utter disbelief, Tim muttered to himself. Jason, ever the little snitch, gasped and pointed at him. Seriously, how had the Red Hood, scourge of Gotham city, come from this goody two shoes.

“You said a swear! You owe me a story!” There was a smug look across the kid’s face. Tim rolled his eyes, but chuckled. Jeez, this kid makes me chuckle like I’m some old grandma. 

He smiled fondly and reached to ruffle the kid's hair. Predictably, his hand went right through. Tim moved his hand to wave in front of Jason’s eyes, sort of like an upside down John Cena type deal.

Jason giggled, staring up at Tim. Tim could see Bruce watching his son interact with thin air, but couldn’t read any suspicion coming from him. What weirdo wouldn’t be paranoid about his kid having an imaginary friend?

“Well, that certainly seems fair,” Bruce smiled. “I do have one question though.”

This is it. I knew he was going to break and start interrogating him. He could see the slight grimace on Bruce and Dick’s faces - that couldn’t be a good thing. Like they were preparing to bring something bad up.

Despite how observant Jason had proved to be, he was still 10 (nearly 11 Timmy!). “What’s up Dad?” He said jovially, picking up his fork to twirl around.

Tim readied himself to coach Jason through whatever the older two would throw at him. They better not start yelling at him. I’ll go apeshit, I don’t care that I’m incorporeal.

“Well, we got a call from the school today,” Bruce kept his tone neutral. “One of the admins said you threatened a kid at school today. I just want to know if that’s true?”

Tim moved from where he was crouched, hovering in place as he shifted to sit criss-cross on the edge of Jason’s chair. Grumbling, he propped his head up with an arm resting on his knee. “I don’t know what kind of answer they’re expecting. Technically, you were threatening the kid, but only because he’s been bullying you for god knows how long! What were you supposed to do, just take it? No way.”

Tim looked down at Jason. The boy’s shoulders had hunched in the time it took for Tim to go on his tirade. Immediately, his annoyance quelled and he moved to sit criss-cross on the table next to Jason’s spot.

Damnit, keep it to yourself Tim. I’m just stressing the kid out.

Tim moves his hand to rest just above his shoulder. “Hey, it’ll be okay. I was just getting a little mad, I can be a bit of a hot head sometimes.” Tim brings his free hand to scratch the back of his head as he smiles. 

Jason’s shoulders loosen a little, so Tim continues. “They’re not going to get mad at you. And if they do, remind them that you just bent the rules a little. Bruce and Dick break the law every time they go out every night as crime fighting furries.”

Jason giggled at that. Bruce’s and Dick’s faces twisted in confusion just a little, but otherwise stayed unchanged, waiting for Jason’s answer patiently. Taking a breath, Tim could see as Jason readied himself to start, turning back towards his older brother and father. “Okay, so, that’s technically true?” 

Tim waited for their faces to fall, for the yelling to start. He’d seen it when Bruce found him doing something wrong. When Grayson saw Tim do something too different than how Todd would have.  Except, this Bruce continued to shock him.

There was no finger pointing, no yells of beratement, no rage filled scowls. Instead, when Jason paused, waiting for Bruce’s, for his Dad’s reaction, there was only silent patience. The man actually nodded at Jason to continue. Dick didn’t even throw those backhanded comments Grayson had mastered. 

Maybe I’m actually in the Twilight Zone. Do people go to the Twilight Zone when they die? Maybe that’s why Todd turned out so murderous after his bath in the forbidden kool aid. He just went crazy from his Twilight Zone afterlife.

Unaware of Tim’s very important theories about the afterlife, Jason continued. “Well… So, there’s this boy. His name is Littleton.”

“Yeah, he’s a little bitch!” Tim couldn’t help himself. He may be the Robin that can lie to Batman, but that wouldn’t stop him from saying what needs to be said. If someone’s a little bitch, he’s going to call them out for it. Just ask Lex Luthor. Or the Joker. Or anyone really.

“Timmy owes me another story. He called him a Little B word,” Jason pointed in Tim’s direction without turning to look. Smart. I wouldn’t want to put a dollar in the swear jar either. Bruce chuckled at that. 

“So, Littleton has been bullying a buncha’ve kids at school. And none of the teachers really do anything about it.”

“Probably cause his parents donate a lot of money. What a nepo baby,” Tim was ignored as Jason soldiered on.

“I was getting tired of it, and so was Timmy,” Bruce nodded. Dick looked absolutely inraptured. Well, as much as a 16 year old boy could when their little brother was telling a story. Still, he’s really dialed in. Much more than Grayson would have been. I will forever be haunted by those spaced, glassy eyes he made whenever he asked about my day or patrol. Tim shuddered at the memory.

“So, Timmy went out and investigated, an’ he told me all kinds of bad things Littleton and his parents were doing!” Jason waved his arms out excitedly. “He said that it’ll get him to leave me an’ all the other kids alone.”

That made Bruce’s eyes narrow slightly. Even Dick threw a quick side eye at his Dad. Well, they’re definitely suspicious of me now. Or maybe they think Jason went out on his own to investigate? Fuck, these hoes (respectfully) are too open with their emotions and it’s making it really hard for me to read into their meanings.

Wait. Jason’s leaving important shit out. “Hey, don’t forget to tell him about how he was bullying you too,” Tim shot Jason a look. No way is he about to skim over the fact that he was targeted specifically. Nuh uh. Littleton Harris is not about to get off that easy.

Jason shot Tim his own look back. “Jay, I’m not going to let this go. Either you tell them or I bug you about it forever.”

“Is Timmy talking to you now?” Dick asked curiously, shoveling a huge bite of green bean casserole into his mouth. Tim’s eye twitched as he watched the buttery, garlicky green disappear as the teen swallowed it. I wish I were you.

“Yeah and he’s telling me I gotta tell you that Littleton was ‘targeting’ me,” Jason said petulantly. He pushed food around his plate with his fork, eyes downcast.

That put a rigid tension into the older bats shoulders. The suspicious glances they’d been exchanging halted, instead replaced by a complete and utter focus on the littlest Wayne.

“He what?” Bruce wiped his mouth with his napkin. When Jason nodded, Bruce reached a hand over to hold Jason’s hand. “Chum, look at me.”

Jason tentatively raised his eyes, little tears in his eyes. “Hey, Jaylad, what did he say? Whatever it was, I can guarantee you, it’s not true.”

Jason sniffled, putting down his fork to wipe his nose with the back of his arm. Dick moved from his seat to sit in the one in front of Tim, putting a hand on his little brother’s shoulder.

Tim moves his hand back. The intense feelings of care and concern that washed over him as Dick’s hand passed through his were overwhelming, like a fire that was burning him from the inside. Tears pricked the corners of his own eyes, but Tim quickly blinked them away. 

Why the fuck am I the one crying? I should feel happy that Jason gets this kind of support. I really need to curb that selfish instinct. Jason is the one who needs to be comforted and they can’t even see you. Even my own, no, even the Waynes from my dimension weren’t my family. Jeez, I’ve got to learn to be less of an attention seeking brat.

Tim tucked his hands in his lap, far away from any of the corporal people in front of him. “Go on Little Wing. They love you. They’re going to laugh that someone like Littleton can be so dumb for spewing that shit. Just take a breath buddy.”

Taking a breath, Jason continued. “He, he said that.” Jason stopped to bite his lip. “Littleton said I was a sewer rat and that, that I was,”

A few tears slipped down the boy’s face. Dick shh-ed him, wiping away the tears with his thumb. Just like Tim had tried to before. Like he wished he could. Bruce’s grip on Jason’s hand tightened, but it didn’t look painful. They waited a few moments, letting Jason get his bearings.

“He said I was just a charity case and that you’d dump me back in the alley you found me in the second you guys found out how pathetic I am.” Tim could see how Jason was chewing the inside of his cheek. It’s what Tim did when he was trying to keep the tears at bay.

Bruce’s face fell. He got up from his chair, moving to kneel beside Jason’s chair. He took both of his son’s hands in his own. “Oh, Jason. I can’t find the words to tell you how wrong that boy is. You’re my son, and I love you and your brother more than anything in the world.”

“Yeah, what a jerk!” Dick piped up. Tim could see the barely contained rage was brewing behind his eyes. Even from where he was sitting, Tim could feel it radiated off of him. I did not miss the famous Grayson temper. I’m glad this Dick seems to have better control over it than Grayson did.

“Baby, why didn’t you tell us he was saying these things to you?” Bruce squeezed Jason’s hands, looking into his son’s eyes imploringly. He moved his thumbs in a circle on Jason’s palms, trying to soothe the sniffling boy. “We could have helped if we’d known sooner. I’m certain your brother would have never let this happen if he’d known”

“Oh you bet your sweet ass I wouldn’t have,” Dick nodded hard. “I would have knocked that little shit on his ass so hard! I don’t if that gets me the swear jar, that was worth it. You need to know that whatever he said was not okay and totally bullshit! Nobody gets to talk about my little brother!”

Jason gave a wet laugh at Dick’s passionate outburst. Sniffling, he muttered something even Tim couldn’t understand. “What’d you say Little Wing? Even imaginary friends don’t have super hearing.”

“I dunno. I just thought… maybe he was right,” Jason looked down at his feet, past his and Bruce’s joined hands. Dick gave a small, heartbroken cry, sounding like he was wounded. Well, he definitely is. I felt like crying when Jason told me he thought I agreed with those shitstains.

Bruce brought a hand to Jason’s cheek. The boy leaned into it, picking his head up to look at his dad. “Chum, Jaylad, it makes me so sad that you’d ever consider the possibility that you aren’t a permanent part of our lives.

“It’s a failing entirely on my part that you don’t know just how much we love you. We couldn’t work, couldn’t function without our little Jaybird. So I will say it in the plainest way I know how, because we all know how bad I am at saying things right.”

Both Jason and Dick giggled at that. “Jason Todd Wayne, you are my son. Your Dick’s little brother and Alfred’s grandson. You are the light of our lives and we wouldn’t, I wouldn’t be the hero I am today without you. You and your brother help me to be a better father and I wouldn’t be half the man I am now if it weren’t for the two of you,” Bruce had moved one hand to grab Dick’s free one. “I don’t say it enough. I love you both, more than anything ever.”

“To Krypton and back?” Jason asked, kicking his little feet.

Bruce smiled, tilting his head. He ruffled both Dick and Jason’s hair as he let go of their hands. “Beyond Krypton and back.”

As they moved back to their seats, Tim just sat there, frozen. Tears were pooling behind his mask, unable to escape the Bat tight seal that held it in place. He moved back to the back of Jason’s chair, hoping to hide the way his stupid lip trembled from an already upset Jason.

God, way to try and make it about you Tim. Suck it up man, Jason needs me. Tim bit the inside of cheek, willing the tears to go back where they belong. Which was inside his body if that wasn’t clear. 

He watched the family before him pick up their forks and put their napkins back in their laps. Like they hadn’t just displayed alien amounts of emotional vulnerability. The Waynes of his dimension helped each other on a case or bit back criticism if they displayed any kind of gratitude. Even Grayson kept praise close to his chest, only giving it to Tim if he’d done something well that Todd had too.

What weirdos. Tim scoffed inwardly, but there was no real bitterness to it. He couldn’t sit there and diminish the way the Waynes had reassured Jason that he was an absolute need for their family. A traitorous part of himself even wished the Waynes of his world could have been that for him.

But they hadn’t been, so Tim pushed down that part of him, burying deep with the feelings that shall not be named.

Bruce spoke as he finally settled himself, pulling Tim from his musings. “So, you said Timmy helped you stand up to Litttleton?”

The nickname pulled Tim’s attention, giving him an out from the yucky emotions trying to push their way past his very important mental blocks. “Yeah! He told me that Littleton was just a crater-faced trust fund baby.”

Dick spit out his drink at that, water spewing from his nose as he cough-laughed. Bruce’s eyebrows raised, a small chuckle escaping his lips. For Tim, that was the equivalent to a belly clutching laugh. The floating boy felt a sudden warmth spread through his chest. Man, I can’t believe my stupid comment made Batman laugh.

Cheeks tinged red and a small smile fighting to grow larger, Tim waved a hand. “I just gave you the information you needed. You did all of that on your own Little Wing.”

Jason gasped and turned to face Tim, face aghast. The reaction shocked Tim. What the heck offended him??

“Timmy is trying to lessen what he did!” Again, a finger was pointed at Tim. Tim was befuddled. Am I really in the Twilight Zone? What is this kid on??

“What? I didn’t do that much, you were the one that had the balls to do it,” Tim pointed right back.

Jason turned to Bruce, his tone whiney. “Dad, tell Timmy that he did a lot and that you aren’t ‘pposed to diminish yourself!”

Though he looked a little perplexed, Bruce turned to look in the general direction Jason was pointing in. He was about a foot off from where Tim actually was, but the effort endeared him nonetheless. “Timmy, we don’t reduce our contributions when we do something. You did something important, so don’t make yourself smaller so those around you can look bigger.”

The warmth in Tim’s chest spread to the rest of him. He sat silently at the overload of emotions he was feeling. What the fuck is that? The warmth was foreign, an almost painful thing that itched under his skin. 

But. It wasn’t awful. Just… Different?

Instead of just warmth, confusion helped color Tim’s flared red cheeks. Jason crossed his arms, an indignant pout crossing his tear stained face. “C’mom, you gotta say you helped and that you’re important. You gotta! I’m gonna hold my breath until you do.”

True to his word, Jason took a big breath in and puffed his chest out as he put a bubble in his mouth. Tim opened and closed his mouth a few times, gaping like a fish out of water. The boy was indeed holding his breath. What kind of psychological attack is this? 

It was clear that Jason was serious as his face turned a shade of cherry red. Tim waved his hands around, lifting them in surrender. “Okay, okay, I did something! Take a breath, jesus!” Despite the uncomfortable admission, Jason refused to take a breath.

He stared down Tim, shaking his head. Behind him, Bruce and Dick were getting a bit worried. Tim groaned, embarrassment flooding his system. Putting his head in his hands, he muttered. “I’m important. Happy now?”

Jason let out his breath, a smile growing wide across his face. Like the kid hadn’t just threatened to hold his breath until Tim made a useless admission. That little shit. He’s got Dick’s stubbornness and B’s wild lack of self preservation instincts.

“Yep!” Jason smiled, shoveling chicken into his mouth. Peeking through his fingers Tim could see how the sudden change in Jason’s demeanor put Bruce and Dick at ease. They relax back in their seats, Dick looking a little wary but otherwise okay. Bruce just eyed Jason with a fond, exasperated look in his eyes. Tim could feel the love he felt for his son, even without touching him.

Tim huffs. Staring at the family before him, he suddenly feels out of place. What am I doing? I’ve already helped Jason say what he needed to, why am I lingering. God, I’ve got to learn when to stop intruding.

Tim silently lifts off, bringing himself to rest his feet on the floor. He headed towards the door, going through the motions of walking it made him feel like he was alive again. Just before he got to the wall, he glanced over his shoulder.

Jason was waving his arms around, launching into some wild story. Dick was rolling his eyes, but Tim could see the tenderness in his gaze. Bruce sat, head leant against a propped arm as he listened, enraptured.

That’s what they should be. What they should have been. Tim felt his heart clench as he turned back to the wall and stepped through. This is what the Waynes of his world should have had. What was ripped from them by the Joker.

That hoe is going down.

𓅨𓅨𓅨

The evening found Tim relaxing by a window in the library. It was the bay window overlooking the side yard, which wasn’t a particularly pretty sight. No, Tim hadn’t picked it for the view of Alfred’s landscaping skills (which were impeccable).

In the distance, maybe a mile or so away, he could just make out the shape of Drake Manor. His home. It used to be anyways.

Tim sat there, his head held just in front of the window. He couldn’t lean directly on the window, but he could sure pretend. He was great at that.

Speaking of pretending. Tim was using a very clever trick he’d learned when he was… young? It was hard to keep track of what happened before he’d figured out the Bats’ identities. Tim hadn’t been doing anything important before then, no real milestones to anchor memories too, so the years all sort of blurred together.

He had his cape wrapped around him, as tight as he could manage. It felt like what he’d imagine a hug would. 

One night, when he was a kid, Tim had pulled a blanket tight around him on one of the cold winter nights that plagued Gotham. So tight he could feel the seams straining to hold the fabric together. His parents had accidentally forgotten to pay the electricity bill and when Tim had called, their secretary had said they were very busy and hung up.

As he’d pulled the blanket around him tighter, snow flurries kissing his window and gusts of wind sweeping past, something in his mind caught. The blanket crushing in on him, it felt… familiar. When he closed his eyes, he was brought back to a warmer, lighter memory. 

Tim was at the circus, being held by Dick Grayson and posing for a picture. Grayson was smiling, eyes alight with wonder and joy as he stared up at his parents. He was crushed from all sides, vision starbursting in red, green, and yellow.

It had given Tim warmth that night and every night after that. After he’d become Robin, a bad encounter with Ivy and her damned cuddle pollen had led him to the discovery that his cape worked almost the same as a blanket. Whenever he closed his eyes and held it close, Tim could pretend he was being hugged. It especially helped when he was running a fever, the blankets always felt warm enough they could feel like actual people.

Now, sitting and staring at a version of his home, is how Tim found himself. Pulling his cape tight around him, eyes slit just enough to stare through the window. He could pull his cape as tight as he wanted, no pain flaring up in his tired joints unless he really focused on it. Unless he wanted it too. What he couldn’t mimic was the warmth.

In this form, Tim didn’t put off any heat. None whatsoever. Here he was, staring at a place that wasn’t his home, cool fabric clenched in his gloved fists, sliding across his bare arms.

Tim didn’t know how long he stayed like that for. Just that his eyes had slipped closed at some point and he was slowly, almost gently, swallowed into an inky, dark pit. He didn’t feel panic, just… peace. Then, he opened his eyes and… saw dark stone walls?

Tim was confused, but his mind was still hazy. His body was frozen in place, just like the day he’d shown up at Wayne manor.

He squinted his eyes, trying to push past the molasses his thoughts were dragging through. The room seemed to be lit by a torch, the light flickering across the stone like waves on a beach. Looking down, he saw he was floating above a bed. A bed that held a small boy. 

He was familiar in a way Tim couldn’t describe, his head pounding. Something about the set of his eyes, the curve of his little nose.

His skin was darker than Tim’s, but it seemed to have a pale tinge to it. Sweat was dripping down his little forehead, eyes shut with a grimace painting his face. He couldn’t have been more than four. He must be having a nightmare. I’ve gotta wake him up.

Tim tried to call out, say something soothing but didn’t get a chance. The boy’s eyes shot open, a toxic green that haunted Tim night after night. There was confusion and terror in them and Tim was sure some of that was mirrored in his own eyes at the sight of the historically unfriendly color.

The terror morphed into confusion and the boy opened his mouth to speak. “Who-”

The little boy didn’t get to finish his sentence. Instead Tim felt himself being ripped away, drug back into the inky black. It was like a rope being tied around his center that was attached to a moving car (Tim had fucking penguin goons to thank for that experience).

Suddenly, Tim was opening his eyes again, gasping. Instead of inky black or unfamiliar stone walls, he was back at Wayne manor. The library was dark and when Tim looked outside, the sun was long gone.

“Tim, are you okay?” A voice pulled him back from… whatever that was. Turning towards Jason, Tim felt his grip on his cape loosen. The boy’s face was curious, if not a little worried.

Shaking his head to get rid of the clouds filling his mind, Tim blinked rapidly. Am I okay? I haven’t slept since before I got here. Was that some kind of dream? Was I even sleeping?

Jason was not waiting for an answer. “Timmy, what’s going on?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Tim uncurled, waving a hand in what he hoped was a calming manner. “I just took a nap is all.”

Jason’s face twisted at that. It looked like the boy was… concerned for him? “I’ve never seen you sleep before.”

It was probably just some freaky nightmare. Fucking Sicarius and their stupid fucking spells. Tim just shrugged. “I didn’t think imaginary friends slept either. Maybe it’s an every once in a while type of deal.”

The answer seemed to satisfy Jason seeing as he immediately launched into another topic. “Why are you in the library? You can’t read.”

As always, Jason gave Tim no time to answer as he rapid-fired his questions at the dead vigilante. Looking past Tim, Jason squinted. His eyes filled with recognition along with curiosity. “Why are you staring at Drake manor? Do you know them? Ooooo, do you know Izzy? Does she have an imaginary friend? Do you two know each other-”

Tim’s brain froze. Izzy? Who’s Izzy?

“Okay, rude to assume all imaginary friends know each other. Second, who’s Izzy?” Tim cut Jason off, wanting to get some kind of answer before Jason had entirely moved on and forgotten what they’d been talking about. It’d happened more than once and Tim knew now to just ask now rather than have the boy forget.

Jason stopped, cocking his head. “Jeez, I was just asking. Izzy is the Drake’s daughter. She’s away with them right now, somewhere in Peru? They’re home most of the year, but they decided to take a trip as a family. Bruce shows me all kinds of photos!”

Jason rambled on about the girl next door, but Tim wasn’t listening. My parents have a daughter? They take her and this dimension’s me on their trips? Do I even exist in this world?

Tim skimmed what Jason was saying, but none of it had anything to do with a son. Apparently Izzy was the Drake’s only kid. A kid who they very publicly adored and spent every waking moment with.

For what felt like the millionth time today, Tim felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes. They take her on their trips. They don’t leave her at home, they don’t send her to some boarding school across the globe. They must love her so much.

His stomach flipped. He had a sister he’d never get to meet or know. Well, she wasn’t really his sister. Tim wasn’t even from the same dimension as this girl. He had no claim to her or this world’s Drakes. He just couldn’t help but wonder.

What did I do that was so horrible that my parents don’t love me like they love their child in this world? Was I really that much of a burden?

Despite the grief and sorrow Tim refused to acknowledge brewing, one thing he didn’t feel was anger. Well, maybe a little at his parents. But towards Izzy? He didn’t even know who this child was and likely would never. That didn’t stop the relief that flooded through his veins when he learned she was cared for, that she was loved.

Not that he wasn’t. He just… His parents loved him differently. Tim just felt glad Izzy was getting this kind of love.

“C’mom Timbird!” A pillow flew through Tim’s neck and chin, pulling him from his spiral. I guess this really is going to become a habit. Tim turned back from where he’d turned towards the window. He couldn’t help the fond sigh that passed his lips as he took in the boy he considered his little brother.

“Timbird? We coming up with nicknames for me now?” Tim felt an easy smile pull across his face. He let the distraction slowly but surely push away everything else. Especially the house in the distance.

There Jason was, in all his pouting glory. He had his little arms crossed, huffing out a breath. “You weren’t listening, you got all spacey again! Oh course I had to come up with a nickname, how else would I have gotten your attention?”

He turned up his head, a haughty look crossing his face. “Obviously, I’m so good at it that it immediately got your attention. I’m just cool like that.”

Tim snickered, feeling himself relax. “Sure Little Wing. It didn’t have anything to do with the fact you threw something through my head. Again.”

“That was ‘cause… ‘cause I wanted to! Had nothing to do with getting your attention!” Jason pointed at Tim, who was moving to stand beside the preteen.

 “Whatever you say birdie,” Tim pulled a shit eating grin, enjoying the annoyance it caused.

The two bickered for a few more minutes, making the trek from the library to Jason’s room (it’s so ridiculous how long it is, maybe add one of those walking escalators). They were near Jason’s room when he lit up. Tim could tell without the foreign feelings of excitement rushing through his veins that Jason had just remembered something and very seriously wanted to tell Tim.

Tim didn’t even get a chance to ask before Jason was talking once again.

“Oh, it’s my birthday Saturday! I’m turning 11,” Jason smiled up at Tim, who’d opted to float on his back at Jason’s eye level. “Even if you can’t seem ‘em, you get to meet my friends!”

Oh Lordy.

Chapter Text

That night, Tim decided it’d be best to stay with Jason. Make sure the kid didn’t have any nightmares and all. Jason had just faced his bully, something like that was probably extremely nerve wracking. 

Tim needed to make sure he was present for moral support. Totally wasn’t because he was freaked out and maybe a little lonely. That’s just crazy talk.

Friday night found Jason falling asleep early, excitement for his birthday party tomorrow tiring him out. It’s great that Jason was finally getting the sleep he needed, but it ultimately left Tim floating in the dark while he slept. Again.

God I’m bored . Dragging his hands across his face, Tim held back a groan of utter exasperation that clawed at the walls of his throat. Soft snuffles of breath escaped Jason as he lay peacefully starfished across his bed, blissfully unaware of his brother’s plight.

Lucky little shit. Tim gazed upon the kid fondly. I finally decide I might want to sleep and the universe tells me to fuck right off.

After Tim’s little debacle the night before, he tried to see if he could recreate what had happened. All to no avail. Tim just spent all morning looking like a little idiot, somehow always ending up floating halfway through walls by the time he opened his eyes.

He looked to the door, and then back at Jason.  He’ll be fine if I go snooping for a little while. He’s got Batman and Robin and Alfred Pennyworth looking after him. There isn’t a place on earth that’s safer.

Despite the very sound logic, Tim still found himself worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. His nerves wouldn’t leave him alone, popping up like lightning bugs in an open field on the cusp of dusk.

Jason will be fine, I’ve got to stop being such a worrywart. His gaze rested heavy on the sleeping child, clenching and unclenching his fists as he tried to convince himself Jason would be okay. Taking a breath, Tim tried to steel himself. I’ll know if he’s in trouble or even if he has a nightmare. I always seem to know what he’s feeling, so I know I’ll know if he’s in trouble.

With one last look back between Jason and the door, Tim floated himself through and into the hallway.

Shadows cast dramatically across the hallway carpet and its walls, what little moonlight that escaped the everpresent Gotham smog flooding through the gaps in the curtains. The shadows themselves shifted slowly, crawling their way across the wallpaper and the fibers of the carpet as the clouds moved across the sky.

“Well, this isn’t creepy at all.” Tim muttered to himself as he moved to stand on the floorboards. That didn’t stop him from moving with the shadows. Too many years fighting alongside Batman while dressed as a traffic cone had conditioned him to make friends with the shadows and this time was no exception. 

He made his way to Bruce’s office; slinking down hallways that were familiar and foreign to him all the same. Standing before the door, Tim felt his pulse speed up a little. 

Flashes of disappointed scowls pried at the lid of the neat little box where Tim buried kept them in his mind for when he needed motivation. Blinking rapidly and biting the inside of his right cheek, he forcibly kept that box nice and shut. Tight . 

“C’mon Tim. You’re fine. How are you ever going to get the information if you can’t even go through Bruce’s office?” In spite of the thousands of little needles pricking the crown of his head and shoulders, Tim forced himself to step through the thick oak door. Immediately, voices started whispering into his ears.

“Timothy, your performance in training tonight was disappointing,” Bruce’s, no, that  wasn’t Bruce Wayne. That was all Batman. His gravelly voice permeated the darkness, clawing at Tim as he tried his best to get to the old grandfather clock as fast as he could. “Tim, you could have gotten Dick or I killed tonight, you need to learn to be more responsible.”

Ground left the soles of his feet, open air kissing the pads of his green boots. Unbeknownst to him, Tim had resorted to floating to get through the room faster, past that horrible dark mahogany desk that the voices seemed to emanate from. 

“I think you’d do better finding your way back to the cave through one of the lesser known tunnels tonight. You’d do more harm than good on the streets.” Batman’s voice cut straight through him. Just like that, Tim was thirteen again, standing with his hands held behind his back, trying his best not to fidget.

Tearing a hole in his cheek as he listened to all the things he’d fucked up the previous night or morning or hour or minute. Waiting for the punishment he deserved. Counting the lines in the wood under the polish. Keeping his breathing steady as he stood stock still. Measuring the amount of seconds between his blinks, not wanting to anger the Batman by even an eyelashes’ movement out of place.

Tim stood there, listening as Batman picked him apart, systematically ripping through everything he was. 

Voices broke through the cocoon of memories that held Tim hostage. The voices receding, Tim realized he wasn’t in Bruce’s office anymore. Instead, he was on the other side of the Grandfather clock. How long have I been here? When did I even get past the clock?

  His musings were cut short by the aforementioned voices. 

“B, all I’m saying is that it seems a little weird for Jay to get an imaginary friend this late,” It was faint, but Tim knew that was Dick Grayson’s voice echoing up to him through the stairwell. Curious and grateful for a distraction from whatever that was, Tim made his way down the steps, feet ghosting over the smooth material. 

As he got closer, the voices got louder. “Dick, I understand what you’re saying, but it isn’t that out there.” That was Bruce. Tim must have been stuck in his stupid thoughts for hours for the dynamic duo to be getting back. Stupid fucking brain. I wasted hours of snooping time ‘cause I couldn’t get myself to walk through a freaking room without getting distracted.

“Jason saw and went through a lot before we adopted him,” Tim exited the stairway, moving to the landing where the Batcomputer rested. There, Bruce was typing up what Tim could only assume was the nightly patrol report and Dick had draped himself dramatically across the back of the chair. “A lot of children who go through trauma like he did develop imaginary friends later in their childhoods to cope.”

Dick huffed, his face in a slight frown. Ah, so they’re talking about me. I knew they weren’t just going to be happy go lucky about me. “I guess that makes sense. But, something just doesn’t feel right.

“How could Jason’ve known about all that stuff with the Harris’?” Dick stared up at the ceiling, domino removed but still in costume. The click clack of Bruce’s typing halted for a single second as he contemplated. “Like, we know he was scary accurate based on what he told Mr Jenson because we actually went to arrest those buttfaces’ house and searched their stuff. But could he have gotten any of that on his own?”

Bruce took his hands off the keyboard and swiveled slightly to face Dick who’d made himself comfortable on the console to his right. Hmmm, I wonder what their theories must be. Maybe they’ll think I’m a demon?

“All I know is that Jason helped save himself and a lot of other kids yesterday. Without him speaking up, it looks like the Harris’s would have made their move either tonight or tomorrow,” Bruce pulled his cowl back, looking fully at his son. A look of annoyance crossed Dick’s face, but before he could open his mouth to get a word out, Bruce held up a hand.

“I understand where you’re coming from, son. I really do.” Bruce reached over to grab one of Dick’s hands. Squeezing it reassuringly, he continued on. “And I agree that Jason even having the information he did is concerning. I promise you, we’ll get to that. We’ll talk with him, and if it has anything to do with this new imaginary friend, we’ll deal with it as a family.”

“Please tell me they’re not thinking about exorcizing me.” Tim looked to the cave’s ceiling as he continued to listen. “I’m not ready to go yet. I’m just a boy.”

Dick, not hearing the incorporeal being floating beside him and his dad, sighed. “I guess. What do we do now?”

Bruce just smiled at his son. “Now? Now we go to bed and get some sleep. Jason’s party won’t set up itself and we both know nobody but Diana is going to be able to direct everyone to put things in their proper place. As for Jason, we can all sit down and talk about it on Sunday. After he’s had his birthday.”

Again, Dick sighed, but this time it was fonder. Jumping off the console, he gave Bruce a quick hug before heading towards the locker room. Looking back over his shoulder, he called back to his Dad. “Don’t you stay up late tonight! I’ll tell Alfred on you!”

Bruce, who had his fingers hovering above the keyboard to resume his work, just chuckled. Are these guys really Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson? Famous for arguing the roof off over any minor disagreement? God this world is weird.

With that, Tim decided he’d listened to enough. He floated his way straight through the ceiling of the cave onto the property and phased through the exterior walls to make it back into Jason’s room. Simply to take the scenic route because he was cool like that.

𓅨𓅨𓅨

Saturday morning rolled around and so did everything and everyone else .

Really, Tim didn’t think he’d ever seen so much happening at once. And he’d seen Riddler’s lair in the midst of the planning stages of one of his hits. Tim still shudders every time he sees neon green worms on the string.

So many people that Tim recognized were walking around, carrying decorations, or setting up a food table. They were much younger than in Tim’s universe. Hal had less wrinkles, Wally was so little, and Diana, well, Diana was the exact same. She was perfect (respectfully) in every universe.

What sucked was these people didn’t seem to know how to watch where they were going. Tim had stepped into the hallway to see what all the commotion was and BAM! Justice Leaguers and Teen Titans emotions were flowing through him as they walked right on through him.

Jesus, who taught these people manners? I may be invisible but I still have feelings.

Tim back peddled through Jason’s door fast, eyes twitching with the mix of anxiety, happiness, and ew, was that loving he felt between Bruce and Clark? I did not need to feel that. How can I gouge out my feeling nerves?

Jason looked up from where he was cross legged on his bed, reading. He said, taking off one headphone. “What’s going on?”

Obviously, he knows he’s going to have a party, but it doesn’t seem like he knows when and where it’s going to take place. Ehh, I should probably distract him so they can finish setting up.

“Nothing much, just Dick running around like a chicken with his head cut off,” Which was technically true. Tim wasn’t lying per say, just… not telling Jason the whole truth. It’s for the kid’s party, I’m assuming they’re going for a surprise party. I’m not about to spoil it. 

Tim had never had a real party before, nothing like this. Ives and Bernard had shown up one year to head to the arcade for a few hours, but other than that, everyone had always been busy. Tim didn’t think his parents had been home for his birthday since he was… four? He couldn’t remember. 

Young Justice was always busy and it’d endanger his identity if he shared his birthday. Well, that’s what Batman had said and Tim was nothing if not obedient. Tim let his mind wander, only for an instant, to imagine a world where Bruce and Dick and even Alfred would have considered celebrating his birthday with him. But only for an instant.

Why would they want to celebrate with the neighbor’s kid? I’d just be a painful reminder of the son they would never get to celebrate again. God, chillax Tim, don’t be such a wet blanket. Birthdays aren’t that big of a deal anyway. Tim resolutely didn’t let himself think of why the Waynes had never tried to celebrate after Todd had come back. 

“Hmmm,” Jason gripped his chin, looking deep in thought. “Sounds legit.”

Jason shrugged and turned back to his book. Tim huffed a sigh of relief. Not a second after the boy had pulled his headphones back on, a crash resounded through the hallway. Man, for a bunch of world renowned superheroes, they’re not good at stealth.

Staring at the boy relaxing and finishing up the Princess Bride, smiling and content, Tim couldn’t help but reconsider what he’d thought. When he thought about Jason, the little boy that has already gone through so much in his short life, he couldn’t fathom letting the boy be alone, especially on his birthday. Tim would probably claw his way back to life just to wring Bruce’s neck for something like that.

Well, birthdays are important, it’s just. I didn’t really need to celebrate my birthday. Tim bit his lip, staring off out of Jason’s window at Drake Manor. I was a mature kid, I didn’t need everyone around me to make such a huge fuss. Not that Jason isn’t mature, it's just…

The more he thought about, the more Tim felt his chest aching, feeling like a cavern getting deeper and deeper. So, he very smartly chose not to. It was easier that way and made Tim feel less like he wanted to tear his unmoving heart out of his chest.

Tim tore his gaze away from his- no, the Drakes’ house. He turned back to Jason and just sat next to him. As he read along, he blocked out everything else. Today was for Jason and Tim wasn’t about to let anything get in the way of that. Even his stupid emotions .

He’d just settle in, read The Princess Bride with Jason and wait. Wait for those ridiculously loud Supers to set up for Jason’s birthday. 

𓅨𓅨𓅨

Everything was going great. Jason hadn’t been the most surprised, but that was to be expected when the world's most powerful people got together. It wasn’t exactly silent. Tim had to divert Jason’s attention every time a flash forgot to slow down and rammed into a wall or when, for some fucking reason, Roy had decided to try what Tim could only assume was a walking handstand and full sent it. The boy over shot and sent himself crashing the table at the end of the hall. 

Tim couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as Roy and the rest of the Titans whisper yelled at each other, scrambling to clean up the fallen items before Alfred found them. Idiots.

It reminded him of his own team. Bart skidding to a stop a little too late, turning the rest of Young Justice into bowling pins. Only Greta was spared, going ghost as the others were knocked over, some literally thrown with the force of it. Good times.

A smile painted Tim’s face as he watched Jason blow out his candles surrounded by nearly the entire Justice League, the Teen Titans, and other sidekicks Jason must know. In particular, Arsenal and Starfire, or as they were now, Roy and Kori, hung off of Jason. Both were younger than they were supposed to be, even for this timeline. They were the same age as Jason rather than being 16 or 17 like Dick.

Odd. Still, what about this world isn’t? Now, they were sitting on one of the garden tables on the patio outside; They being Jason, Tim, Roy, and Kori. Jay had decided they’d color and what the birthday boy wants, he gets.

Tim was doodling in his BatPad. Jason was working on something that Tim couldn’t see, covering it with one arm because “ It’s a surprise Timmy! ”

Kori and Roy were fighting over the red crayon, both trying to claim it because it was their ‘signature’ color. Eventually, Roy gave it up after Kori’s eyes flashed a bright green. Tim laughed. “They sure get along well.”

Jason peeked up from his arms, glancing at his two friends, Kori contently scribbling an incoherent mess with the red and Roy kind of pouting over the lost drawing utensil. Scratch that, Tim could definitely see Roy’s bottom lip sticking out while he slouched back in his chair, arms crossed. 

Obviously, the three were close, closer than most trios Tim had seen. That being said, Jason and Tim had decided it’d be best for Jason not to respond to Tim with other people around. Even if the Waynes were cool about it (for some reason Tim still couldn’t parse out), they didn’t know how others would react. Some people in the hero community could be absolute assholes. Jason didn’t think his friends would ever be like that, but Tim didn’t want to risk it. 

They just settled on maybe mentioning Tim existed but Jason wouldn’t respond to him in public or around people. A fair compromise for both Tim and Jason.

Jason rolled his eyes at the sight. “C’mom guys, it’s just a crayon. I’ve got like a bajillion of them, just go ask my Dad.” He turned back to his drawing, the sounding of crayon meeting paper filling the air once again.

He looked up again suddenly. “Wait, lemme borrow it real quick! I don’t wanna go get up and you guys peek. Pleaseeeeeeee.” Kori gave him a side eye, but reluctantly handed over the crayon. He was the birthday boy afterall. Immediately, Jason dove back into drawing.

Roy nor Kori got a chance to ask what his drawing was before people were approaching the table. Walking up was Dick and Raven, smiles spread across their faces.

“How’s the birthday boy doing?” Dick said jovially, hand coming down to ruffle Jason’s hair. He looked at the scribbles on Kori’s page and the blank sheet in front of Roy. He looked down at his little brother, only to find Jason curling around his drawing even more. “Whatcha drawing squirt?”

“Nunya!” Jason swatted Dick’s hand away. “It’s not done yet!”

Tim laughed at that. “Really not gonna show even me?”

Jason cut eyes at Tim, but didn’t acknowledge him otherwise. “I’m almost finished, then I’ll show you guys.”

Dick rolled his eyes fondly, removing his hand from Jason’s now birdnest of hair. Beside him, Tim could see Raven softly smiling as she looked down at the children. She was standing a little off to the side, hands clasped behind her back. 

Tim was about to look away, probably to make another sarcastic comment about Dick’s loud button up, but something strange happened. She looked up. As all normal people do. But instead of her gaze traveling to look back at Dick or even off in the distance, it caught on Tim.

Tim blue screened as she scrunched her eyes, squinting at where he was floating. Can she- can she see me? Tim moved to the right a little from where he’d been floating above the table. Raven’s eyes tracked him in a sort of confused way. Like she didn’t know what she was looking at.

She kept her eyes on him, opening her mouth as she turned to Dick. Probably to say something about the weird energy she was seeing floating around, but didn’t get a chance.

Jason suddenly sat up straight, startling everyone. Tim could see the stars in his eyes as he held up his drawing. “This is Timmy! He’s my imaginary friend!”

Tim shifted, moving to sit cross legged on the center of the table in front of Jason. Not like anybody but Jason can see me. They can still see it. He glanced back at Raven who was still giving his general area glances, but focused on Jason. Well. Except the half demon girl. Probably should have predicted she might be able to sense me. 

The page Jason held up was, uh, cute. On it, there was what Tim could only assume was himself. He was in the Robin costume, domino and all with his hands on his hips drawn as little balls of green. Tim assumed those were his gloves given the way the gauntlets had the little spikes up to his elbow.

It was sweet, the way Jason drew Tim with a big smile on his face. What was a little concerning was the fact that the chatracture had a big, messy red spot on his side. Jason must have taken a bit of creative liberty because there was even a little bit of red dripping.

“Wow, it’s so… cool.” Tim smiled, hoping it didn’t show the hint of forced-ness that he was feeling. 

Jason just smiled huge, eyes nearly closing with the sheer magnitude of it. Again, Tim wishes he had added some kind of shades to his domino. How was I, an almost exclusively night-time vigilante, supposed to know I’d have to deal with smiles that hold the force of Alpha Centauri? 

Tim looked to Dick and the others to see their reaction. Kori was tilting her head, staring at it intently. Roy looked at it for a moment before taking his chance to snatch the red crayon from where it rested beside Jason. Yeah, Roy is definitely the same in both universes from what Grayson would describe.

The two teens were giving the picture odd looks. Raven was staring at it intently, one eyebrow cocked as she looked between it and Tim. It gave Tim goosebumps as the piercing gaze looked through him.

Dick had a hand on his chin, face a little scrunched as he stared. Tim could only imagine what the teenager was thinking. I’d be a bit jarred too if my little brother drew his imaginary friend and it turned out to be dressed as my vigilante personna. Only, I have pants and Dick still has the short shorts right now. The blood patch doesn’t exactly scream mentally stable either.

Jason huffed, clearly impatient with Dick’s lack of response. “Dickie, you gotta say something . I worked really really hard on it!”

That startled Dick out of his stupor, his eyes widening slightly as his brother spoke. “It’s so… cool Jaybird. I didn’t know Timmy was a Robin.”

“Hey, copycat! I said it first!” Tim crossed his arms. Obviously, Dick couldn’t hear him. All the more reason to act dramatic. Jason really is rubbing off on me . I’d never act like this without outside influence. (Somewhere in another universe, Steph sneezed. Someone was clearly bullshitting).

Jason laughed at that. “I know. I’m a great artist, Alfie says so!”

Almost as if summoned by the mere mention of his name, the butler appeared behind all of them. Everyone but Raven jumped a little, Tim included. “I do say, my boy. You draw quite nicely.”

Jason beamed at the compliment. Alfred let a small smile across his face. “Alright children, it is time for Master Jason to open his presents. Everyone is waiting in the den.”

The mention of presents had the three children gasping, squealing in delight. Lightning quick (really, had Bruce tested if Jason had a part of the speed force??), the kids clambered out of their chairs and beelined for the Den. Alfred’s smile grew, walking calmly behind them.

Dick was about to follow when Raven grabbed his arm. This was clearly a sign that she wanted to talk given the looks Tim saw exchanged between them. Interesting. It was also why Tim held off on following the kids. His stalker detective tendencies hummed in his veins, demanding he stay back and listen.

As he was about to cross the threshold into the house, the butler turned to the teens. “We will be starting in about five minutes. I do hope you won’t be late.”

Dick nodded, waving off his grandpa. “Of course Alfie, we’ll be there in a minute.” At the reassurance, the butler crossed through the doorway and shut it behind him.

Turning back to watch the teens, Tim sat at attention. Spying really is so much easier when nobody can see me.

“Okay Ray, what’s up? You’ve been acting a bit off since we walked over.” Dick asked.

Raven bit her lip nervously. “Well… it has to do with Jason. It seems like there’s a spirit hanging around him?”

Dick’s shoulders tensed, laden with worry. Tim didn’t imagine hearing that your brother has weird shit around him from the queen of the supernatural was very comforting.

Raven rushed to continue, seeing the panic start to spread through her friend. “It’s not a bad one! It’s more of a- a wandering spirit? If that makes sense.”

The tension in Dick shoulders all but bled away. Huh. He must really trust her if he’s taking her word with that much weight. “Not really?”

Raven waved her hands as she spoke. “It’s kind of like a tether kind of situation I think? The spirit isn’t malicious in nature, it just seems… lost. Like it used to be alive and died too soon, so it’s latching onto something that seems familiar. 

“I promise you, with what I’m getting from it, it cares about Jason very much. I think it might be that imaginary friend he’s seeing. The energy I was feeling from Jason was similar to the way Jason’s drawing was. I can’t explain it any better than that.” 

Raven put a hand on Dick’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “Spirits like him move on on their own eventually. They normally just want someone to talk to before they pass on. I don’t believe Timmy is a threat to Jason. In fact, your brother’s soul seems to be lighter than I’ve ever seen it.”

“So, Timmy’s probably a kid that died and latched onto Jason because he’s lonely?” Raven nodded solemnly. That seemed to be enough for Dick, at least for the moment. “If he’s helping Jason, I don’t see the harm. He has been happier recently. Plus, he did tell us Timmy helped him destroy a bully at his school. That does explain how Jason got…”

Dick furrowed his brow as he trailed off. Tim could only assume his mind brought him back to his conversation with Bruce earlier in the morning. A questioning look found its way to Raven’s face as she stared at her friend. 

“Bruce and I just figured Timmy popped up later than an imaginary friend normally would. Jason’s been through a lot, especially with his mom and Willis Todd .” Dick’s voice was dripping with venom as he said that man’s name.

Tim couldn’t help the flash of rage that went through him at the mention of Jason’s pathetic excuse for a sperm donor. God, that shit stain is so lucky I’m stuck incorporeal or I’d bury him under so much shit he’d be begging for death. 

Dick sighed, shoulders losing the rest of the tension. “Well, that’s a relief to hear. It is a bit strange Timmy’s dressed as Robin, but maybe he died at a costume contest? I have no clue why it’d have pants of all things, but whatever.”

“A spirit like Timmy is like Velcro. He’ll have to stick close to Jason, so you don’t have to worry about him causing mayhem,” Raven just shrugged. Glancing down at her watch, her eyes widened. “Oh, we better get inside before Alfred comes get us!”

The two of them exchanged a slightly panicked glance, making Tim giggle. The two bolted, not wanting to face the wrath of the person who’d raised the Batman.

And then there was one. Tim let out a breath of he didn’t know he’d been holding. Could I even hold my breath if I don’t technically need to breath? Hmmm.

He shook his head, moving from the top of the table to stand on the ground. He could test that out later. I was this close to getting exorcised. Thank god for Raven. She may have almost gotten the Bats to get my ass, but she saved me nonetheless. At least now they’ll know that I am real and don’t need to be cast out like a demon.

He was walking towards the door and into the house as his body went on autopilot, having learnt the way to certain rooms over the past month. Thursdays were for movie nights in the den and Jason almost always suggested what Tim wanted (except for Twilight. The kid just couldn’t appreciate the irony and comedy that is the Twilight movies). They were good days, Tim floating above the couch all the Waynes cuddled together on.

I wonder, would I go to actual hell if I were exorcised? Would I just be sent to another dimension? Hmmm.

The dynamic duo would’ve found out on their own eventually. I’m just glad that they know I’m just a guy now. Though, I don’t think Raven’s right about what I am. Tim looked down at his hands, studying the way the green gauntlets wrinkled, covering countless scars.

I’m- I’m not stuck to him all the time like she said. I’m 99% sure that Sicarius hoe killed me, but I’m not even in my same reality. I don’t think I can be the kind of spirit she’s talking about. Did they send me here to cause harm? Tim clenched his fingers into the tight fabric of his pants, eyebrows furrowing.

 He looked up, ugly thoughts of ‘what am I’ and ‘was I always made to harm’ trying to push their way to the surface. Trying anything to will the questions attempting to sear themselves in his brain, he forced his gaze to latch on to something, anything. 

 His eyes caught on the portraits that lined the walls as he passed. There were the paintings that had been up in his world but there were more. What had been a blank space before now held hundreds of pictures of these Waynes. 

Dick, hanging off a chandelier upside down while Bruce stood beneath him, panicked. Jason and Dick posing at a Gala, making goofy faces at the camera. Bruce carrying Jason in a piggyback through the backyard while the boy pointed forward, a little paper hat atop his head. 

The photographs went on and on, hundreds of moments filling these walls. Tim ached for his camera, an itch beneath his skin that could never be quelled, even with the moments the cool metal kissed his palms. Now? Tim might as well have been in photographer's hell. All he had were the never ending ink pen and BatPad that he couldn’t draw for shit on.

That was another thing about being a ghost in another dimension. Tim only had his limited few items. He wanted anything else? He was shit out of luck. Zesti may be his favorite, but Tim wouldn’t say no to a change in pace. Preferably a nice and sweet caramel coffee.

Tim closed his eyes for a second, imagining the taste of it as he turned the corner. Man, I really wished I could go back in time and make sure I had more of a variety of snacks on me when I died.

He was only a few doors down from the Den, sounds of delight filling the air. Laughter echoed down the hallway and conversations were light. If only the Justice League of my world were like this. They’d get so much done if they weren’t trying to rip each other’s balls off to prove theirs were bigger.

Reaching the threshold, Tim looked in. Jason sat in the center of the carpet, Kori and Roy sat on either side of him. Dick and Bruce were across from him, criss crossed in front of a pile of presents.

Jason may have been dealing with a lot, but he’s still him. And the Waynes still love him for who he is. Tim thought back to Littleton, feeling a little bile rise in his throat at the thought of the boy. I’m just glad I could make things a little better. They all deserve to be happy.

Tim could feel how each person’s soul sang, playing together in an amazing and joyous symphony. Chaotic and out of standard time in a way that flowed together like a needle and thread in a patchwork quilt. Warmth flooded him as he listened to its sweet melody.

Without another second wasted, Tim crossed the threshold and stepped onto the carpet. These presents aren’t gonna open themselves.

𓅨𓅨𓅨

Across the world, a boy sits on the edge of his bed. Thinking.

Thinking about the strange hallucination he’d be plagued with just days ago. The boy had been struck by a fever, nearly taking his life with its ferociousness. That weakness had almost spelled the end of his life on its own.

Now, he sits, hands crossed in his lap demurely while his mother scolds him for crying out in his weakened state. He sits while she tells him of the assassination attempts she’d prevented, all because he dared to not hold his tongue whilst he slept.

But he wasn’t listening like he normally would. No, his traitorous thoughts strayed to what he thought he saw.

A boy, bathed in red and green and black. Staring down at him with a black mask obscuring his eyes. Looking at him like he was the one laying on the ceiling and that boy in red and black was the one being spied on.

Which was contradictory to what he’d felt in the moment. The image of that floating boy had made him feel safe, if only for a split second. It may have been childish to imagine safety as if it were real, but. It had stopped the panic coursing through his veins like a spider that had found its prey.

The boy had only been there for an instant, disappearing between one blink and the next. He thinks it’s the strangest fever dream he’s had yet.

His mother’s voice is slowly cracking into his mind, breaking the barrier between his thoughts and her corrections. He struggles not to grip the white suit covering his legs. Mother would only scowl more at another sign of weakness.

He tries to focus, to push the floating boy out of his mind. There was no point in indulging in such drivel as fantasies or dreams. But…

No matter how he tried to focus on his mother’s face, even on a single stone behind her head, the boy would not leave him. He was stuck, burned into the back of his mind.

Chapter Text

The wind was whipping through the alleys of Gotham, screaming as loud as the violence that carved its way down her streets. The smog was thick, choking the sky, leaving only the tiniest slivers for moonlight to shine through.

Tim could hear it whistling right through him. It was hauntingly familiar. A small comfort.

Today made a few months short of three years since Tim had magically poofed into existence. May 11th to be exact. 

The months came and went, and soon, Tim had been in this timeline a whole year. In fact, the year mark came and went. Tim himself hadn’t changed at all, proving his theory of his body being virtually frozen in time. The main metric by which Tim used to show time had passed was how much Jason had grown. 

The boy, a measly 4’10” when they’d met, had shot up to 5’4”.  Now when they stood side by side, Jason nearly stood eye level with Tim. It’s not fair, I died before I finished growing! Tim pointedly ignored the fact that Jason was this tall at nearly 14 and Tim was 15. Jason was just growing like a freak of nature!

Aside from cursing the universe for making him so small, Tim'd been gathering data. Nights when Jason went to sleep early or on the very, very rare occasion the two got into an argument, Tim snuck down to the Batcave to see what the others were doing. Namely, what information he could get his grubby little hands on when the Bats kept files open.

Almost all of the data he’d gathered led him to believe that this world ran near parallel to his own. Tim couldn’t find any major world events that differed between timelines. The only differences he could find were that Jason had been adopted earlier, certain heroes, like Starfire and Arsenal, were younger than his versions of them, and that he didn’t exist.

The Joker of this universe also didn’t seem as prominent a figure as he had been in Tim’s old world, not even close to the infamy he’d gained before he killed Todd. Don’t get Tim wrong, the man was still a psychopathic lunatic, but this Joker didn’t seem to have as much of a homoerotic connection to Batman.

Tim shuddered, trying to forget the conversations he’d overheard on patrols and in traps working to free hostages while Bruce stalled for him. As if fighting for people’s lives wasn’t stressful enough, Tim had to hear a clown lust after his employer? Gross.

In this world, in this time, Tim looked out over the city, taking it all in. Compared to most evenings, this dusk was quiet. He watched from above, perched on a gargoyle (a guy’s gotta keep an aesthetic even when nobody could see him). Beside him was Robin.

Turning to his side, Tim watched as Jason sat on the head of a neighboring gargoyle, legs swinging as he took in the skyline. Something squeezed around Tim’s heart as he watched Jason pick the same one Todd had, a night not too dissimilar to this one. It was the boy’s first night out as Robin and it was shaping up to be a good one.

Thank god I convinced Jason to add pants to the uniform. The costume Jason donned was strikingly similar to the one Dick wore minus the scaly panties. Now, the kid had green kevlar pants. Other than that, Jason had stuck very close to Dick’s original design.

Speaking of the OG Robin, the man himself was joining the dynamic duo for Jason’s first patrol. 

As he had in Tim’s original universe, Dick had become Nightwing, protector of Bludhaven. Fortunately though, the transition was much smoother here. Dick had recognized that he needed freedom, some room to breathe, and instead of Bruce kicking him out after a heated argument, Dick went to his father. Dick sat with Bruce and told him all of it. All of what he’d been feeling and going through. Like a crazy person.

Tim may or may not have been spying on the conversation. He also may have gotten Jason to leave some notes for each from the other which may or may not have smoothed out the whole process. Who knows? Must have been the wind. In other news, Jason had gotten really good at forgery. For science, of course.

Whatever the reason, the two walked out of the room with a solution. One they both wanted and were happy about. Overjoyed even.

Dick would become Nightwing and move out to Bludhaven to become its protector. And in his place? Jason would be Robin. 

Instead of Bruce being the one to give Jason Robin, it was Dick who passed on the mantle. He’d told Jason how he’d always wanted a little brother, how he was so proud to be able to pass on Robin to someone who deserved it more than anyone else ever could. 

Dick had hugged Jason tighter than ever (if that was even possible) and Tim heard when he’d whispered “You’ve shown me what it means to be magic, it’s your turn now.”

It was everything Grayson regretted never doing. Even Tim had to leave, floating up until he was in a ledge near the top of the cave. Maybe a few tears were shed, totally not because Grayson never told me any of that. Whatever, that’s for Tim to know and everyone else to never find out.

Here and now, back on the gargoyle lined rooftop, the Bats watched Gotham.

“So Little Wing,” Dick balanced on the gargoyle on Jason’s other side, arms outstretched. It was strange to hear the nickname Tim used for the boy coming from Dick’s mouth. Tim supposed it was always going to happen, that being the natural order of the things. “What do you think? All that you ever wanted?”

“Totally!” Jason nodded so fast Tim thought he might get whiplash. Despite growing older, Jason had never lost his sparkle or his sense of whimsy. Take that society! Can’t suck the joy out of all teenagers.

Behind the trio, or well, duo to what the man could see, Batman chuckled behind them. I’ll never get used to Bruce laughing. The therapy timeline is real.

All heads turned towards Bruce. Given he was the Batman, he couldn’t exactly exit the personna, but he did give his boys a nod. Tim could feel the way Dick and Jason smiled, the joy and love radiating off of them in waves.

God, I’m glad I’ve kinda learned how to control this shit . 

Very quickly, Tim’s ability to feel others emotions through touch amplified. It had been entirely overwhelming. Like, Tim thought he might have to invest in a ghost life alert. He hadn't been able to go to Gotham Academy with Jason for a month while he got it under control.

Now, it was like his sixth sense ( I get to make that joke, I’m dead ). Tim imagined this is what Superman’s super hearing was like. Also like Clark, Tim left himself open to the Waynes’ emotions. Well, with Jason he didn’t really have the option to turn it off. There was no way to fully close off that connection. 

He mostly managed to block out the rest enough that it was a soft murmur. Like a water valve letting out only a soft trickle. That is, until someone had a spike in emotion.

A jolt of panic hit the base of his skull like one of those duck tapped plastic wiffle ball bats. Speak of the devil.

“Jay, it feels like someone’s panicking not far from here,” Tim closed his eyes, trying to pinpoint exactly where the emotion was coming from. Furrowing his brow, he felt a throb of pain through his temples as the spikes of panic acted like a compass. Fuck this shit .  

Jason stood at attention, balancing on the head of the gargoyle. The little shit was making Tim nervous despite the hundreds of hours he knew the kid had spent training before Bruce even let him touch the suit. “B, I think something’s happening.”

Finally. Tim got a feel for the general direction the panic was emanating from, letting the thread of feeling slip away. God, I wish I could block all of it all of the time. 

“Whoever it is is about 30 yards to the north,” Tim motioned with his hand to illustrate. “Feels like they’re street level, so most likely in an alley or on a ground floor.”

“C’mon,” Jason looked over his shoulder, smiling wide. “We’ve got people to save! This way.”

Without any more fanfare, Robin grappled off the ledge, yellow cape fluttering behind him. The two older vigilantes shared a look. Tim could see the uncertainty that crossed their faces at their youngest’s claim.

Nightwing put on a smile but Tim could see how it was strained around the edges. “Let’s just humor him B. It can’t hurt to check.”

Batman just huffed, but Tim could hear the resignation. After being Robin for three years and spending almost another three with an alternate version of Bruce Wayne, Tim could confidently say he was fluent in Huff and Grunt speak. Otherwise known as Bruce speak.

Tim didn’t really want to stick around to translate. Instead, he hopped off the roof and let himself float down, Mary Poppins style with his cape. A boy’s gotta do what a boy’s gotta do when he’s bored.

At first, Bruce, Alfred, and Dick had been fine with Tim’s presence, even asking Jason about how he was doing. It was great. It felt like he was part of a family . But after Jason had finished seventh grade and Tim was still around, they’d started growing… weary.

Where once they’d asked if ‘Timmy’ was there, their smiles started feeling forced when Jason laughed at one of his jokes. On the nights Tim snuck down to the batcave, he’d hear whispers about how ‘ Didn’t Raven say the spirit should have moved on by now? ’ or ‘ if he really is an imaginary friend, shouldn’t he be gone by now? Shouldn’t Jason’ve outgrown him by now? ’

By now, by now, by now. Tim was getting a bit sick (re: nauseous and anxious) of hearing the Bats talk about how he should have been gone by now .

Really, Tim got it. He’d be just as concerned as Dick was if his baby brother was laughing into thin air or saying shit that he shouldn’t know but was scarily accurate about it. Bruce was entirely justified in his fear when his 13 year old son would come down to the cave, announce who the killer was in his most recent case and just vanish with no explanation.

It didn’t stop it from stinging though. It shouldn’t have hurt as bad as it did, the Waynes' rejection. Really, the only proof they had of his existence is Jason’s say so and Raven’s quick assessment nearly three years ago. They didn’t know him.

Which is exactly why Tim was pushing towards Jason now, ignoring the burning in his chest that came along with being invisible. It doesn’t matter. I don’t even have lungs, must be some afterlife heartburn. I just need to help Jason. First, I gotta find that little shit.

Tim could feel where Jason was, the boy’s emotions like his own life360. The teen was nearing the scene of the possible crime. Tim cupped his hands around his mouth as he came out of a brick wall that led to where he’d felt the panic. “Jason Wayne, don’t you go running off like that again!”

Jason had just rounded the corner, looking like a deer in the headlights at Tim’s scolding. Tim just raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “As much as I love a little chaos, you can’t just go running off.”

Jason, the little goblin , rolled his eyes at him. At TIM. The audacity!

“Don’t you roll those eyes at me you little shit. Yes, I can see that you did it even behind the domino. You’re lucky we’re busy on patrol or I’d be singing Hannah Montana. You know I would,” Tim watched in satisfaction as Jason shuddered a little. 

Once, about a year and a half ago, Jason had purposely left the blinds in the library closed over some petty argument (Donatello is the best ninja turtle, Tim will die on this hill. Well, die again). Tim had decided that for the next 24 hours straight, he’d sing a beautifully off key rendition of Bye Bye Bye by NSYNC. And he meant 24 hours straight .

So, Jason knew his imaginary friend was not joking. It had been made worse by the fact that Tim didn’t need to breathe. Which meant he was never out of breath. Meaning Tim could really sing on loop for 24 hours .

Alright, now. Time to assess. Tim turned towards the panic he had felt. Deeper in the alley, Tim could see two dimly lit figures in a struggle.

 It looked like a young man, given bone structure must be in his early 20s, was being held at knife point against the wall by a middle aged woman. She seemed to be in her late thirties, possibly early forties. Black hair fell across her face, adding to the deranged look in her eyes.

The young man seemed to be frozen in panic, eyes wide with fear as he looked to Robin. Tim could see the silent pleas in them and he knew Jason would too. The woman hadn’t noticed yet, still yelling at the kid to hand over all his cash.

 Tim turned back to look at Jason. The boy already had two Batarangs ready to throw in his dominant hand. Tim felt a rush of pride. Oh, they grow up so fast. It seems only five years ago when I stopped my first mugging.

Tim felt a grin split his face. “Alright Jason, time to show Gotham what Robin is made of.”

Stepping to the side, Tim floated up a foot or two to observe. Tonight, he’d watch. Jason’s ready.  

While he knew the newest Robin was trained by the world’s best, it didn’t stop the itching nervousness. It was strange and irrational, yet Tim couldn’t seem to shake the feeling. He knew for certain Bruce and Grayson hadn’t felt nervous during his first patrol. 

Why is this different? I know Jason can do it, so why am I doubting his abilities? It clawed its way through his chest, nestling itself in the crown of his skull. It spiked as Jason threw the Batarangs, knicking the woman’s face and forcing her to drop the knife as the second hit her wrist.

Seeing his opportunity to escape, the young man frantically slipped away from the scene, his legs pumping hard against the grimey concrete. Jason edged forward, falling easily into a combat ready stance. An easy smirk painted itself across his face.

Tracing the ground with his right foot, he brought it behind him and planted his feet, resting his weight on his toes. “I’m not up to date on what cougars consider flirting, but I’m certain it doesn’t usually involve knives. At least ask the kid if he’s even into that first.”

Tim heard the snicker Nightwing tried to muffle. Glancing up, he saw where he’d felt the two’s presence approach. Clearly , they were observing too, but they weren’t feeling those horrible nerves about Jason. They knew what he was capable of and were simply watching to be supportive. 

Bruce was just watching so closely because he was analyzing the fight. Patrols wouldn’t be productive without tips on how to correct errors. Not that Jason would make many. Bruce had been a lot more patient with him than Tim’s Bruce had been with Tim. He didn’t even have to send Jason around the world to find martial arts masters to train with! Tim just wore people’s patience thin.

No, the nervousness the two vigilantes above him felt could only stem from other things. They trust Jason to handle himself in a simple mugging. Even though it’s only his first patrol.

The woman roared in frustration. “What the fuck’s a annoying little twirp like you doin’ correcting me? Fuck right off you little brat!”

The woman rushed Jason, fists swinging. Jason just tensed as he readied himself to doge, holding his position as she approached rapidly. Tim saw the moment Jason decided to move. 

And move did he.

It was like watching a bow meet the strings of a violin, stringing together a legato of fast notes. Jason ducked under the woman’s fists, bringing a fist the strike a kidney.

As she wheezed for breath, Jason gave her no reprieve. Like a tree in a hurricane, he unrooted, moving like the wind to sidestep behind her. One, two, three shots along the spine, hitting relatively the right areas for a pressure point technique.

“Okay boomer, I’ll have you know my teachers describe me as a delight to have in class,” Jason watched as she struggled to catch her breath, but only for a second. That’s all he gave her before he delivered a nerve strike to her shoulder blades. 

Tim felt a breath escape him, relief flooding through him. See Tim, he’s got it handled. There was no need to be so nervous.

Jason caught her by her shirt as she slumped forward, arms useless to catch her fall. “Plus, I’m not the one cornering young men in dark alleyways. Maybe work on yourself before you critique others ma’am.” 

All he got in response was a faint eugh . “No comment? I guess it’s time for you to cool off then.”

Slowly, Jason lowered the woman to the ground with his grip on the back of her shirt. As he zip tied her wrists behind her back and worked to sit her against the wall, Bruce and Dick dropped down from where they’d been ‘hiding’ (Tim didn’t think those two would ever be able to sneak up on him again).

“That was amazing!” Dick threw his arms up in the air. Jason acted exasperated at his older brother’s antics but Tim could see the smile on the kid’s face as Dick picked him up into a spinning hug. “You did so well! Nice job Robin.”

Jason’s face flushed at the praise gushing out of his older brother. He struggled against the older vigilante’s octopus grip on him. “C’mon, let me down N! This is so uncool-uh!”

Dick only laughed at his younger brother’s antics, Tim joining in. Setting him down, Dick ruffled his little brother’s hair. Jason just pouted a little and Tim could see the embarrassment on his face.

As Bruce went to double check the almost thief was secure and call GCPD to pick her up, Jason muttered under his breath. Neither Tim nor Dick seemed to catch it, so Tim floated closer to listen. “What was that Little Wing?”

Jason huffed, face still a little red. “I said, thanks Wing. It means a lot.”

The beam that Dick got on his face nearly blinded Tim with its brilliance. Jeez, I guess that bright ass smile runs in the family. Goku would be jealous of that shit. “Awww!! Little Wing, I love you too!”

For the second time and most certainly not the last time of the night, Dick scooped up his little brother into a hug. Screeching like a demon, all hints of softness were gone from Jason as he futilely scrambled to escape. TIm just pointed and laughed his ass off at the two. “Lemme down! Wing, lemme down right now or I swear to Agent A I’ll hide all your stupid body glitter!”

A fond look swept over Bruce’s face as he stared at his two sons. “Come on boys, let’s wrap this up so we can head back to the cave.”

Still struggling against his brother’s hold, Jason stopped struggling for a moment as Bruce ruffled his hair. “Good job tonight Robin. I’m proud.”

That made Jason go even more red, but this time the boy smiled softly at the praise. Even though this Bruce said it all the time (crazy shit right??), it never lost its effectiveness at making his family members feel loved. Waves of warmth radiated off of all three of them, washing over Tim like a cozy blanket that just came out of the dryer.

“You really did good tonight Little Wing, that Karen won’t remember what hit her.” Tim floated up to be about eye level with Jason, who was still being held captive in Dick’s hug. “Had fun?”

Jason nodded his head aggressively, the soft smile on the kid’s face growing into a monster of a grin. “Oh yeah, that shit was so cool!”

Bruce and Dick’s faces shifted as their youngest spoke seemingly to thin air. Their smiles tightened. Bruce was the one that finally asked what Tim could clearly see them thinking. “Robin, are you talking to Tim right now?”

Rolling his eyes, Jason huffed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Who else would I be talking to B? Besides, him and I agreed to call him Agent T. That way if someone were to hear me talking to him, they’d just assume I was talking over comms like how we talk to Agent A!”

“Yup. Using comms and giving people codenames‘ll makes everybody believe that I’m just a guy in the chair,” Tim nodded as he spoke, backing Jason up. Doesn’t matter they can’t hear me, I’m still gonna back up Jason. He’s just a little guy.

The strained smile on Dick’s face tightened a little more. “That’s great Little bird. I’m glad you and Tim could… come up with a codename for him.”

Jason, still a little too young to read too much into the looks on his older brother and father’s faces just smiled smugly. “Yeah, pretty genius move on my part.”

Tim on the other hand, couldn’t not pick up on the shared looks out of his head. As a detective, of course he’s going to notice all the little micro expressions on people’s faces. Whatever. Unless they commit to an exorcism, I guess I’m sticking around.

Obviously tired of being held against his will, Jason finally wiggled his way out of Dick’s grasp now that the older teen was distracted with his inner turmoil. Turning to Bruce and Dick, Jason mustered up the best puppy dog eyes he could muster. “I’m tired and I’ve got school tomorrow. Can we take the Batmobile home tonight? And get ice cream on the way back?”

Crisis about the youngest Bat’s mental health put to the side for a moment, the two smiled. “Of course we can go get some ice cream Little Wing. Race you to the Batmobile! Last one there's a rotten Robin.”

Taking off into a sprint, Dick stuck his tongue out as he glanced over his shoulder. Jason’s face painted itself in betrayal and righteous fury as he chased after his big brother. “That's not fair, you got a head start!”

Tim just snickered. Oh, this family and their antics.

𓅨𓅨𓅨

Darkness flooded Jason’s room, only slivers of moonlight creeping through the blinds. It felt a little nostalgic, Tim and Jason talking like this. Flashlight shining on the book Jason was struggling to read, sleep weighing down his eyelids. Tim, floating around, not stuck in place, thank god.

“Are you sure you want to keep reading?” Tim moved to peek his head over the edge of Jason’s book. The boy startled, obviously not expecting Tim to pop up in the middle of Pride and Prejudice. “You look about ready to drop Jaybird.”

The profanity riddled grumble Jason gave as he rubbed his eyes was nothing short of hilarious and kind of adorable. Moving to sit criss cross atop the Wonder Woman bedspread, Tim waited for the teen to compose his groggy reply. He also couldn’t help the smirk and snicker that left him as Jason fumbled to find his bookmark.

“Shuddup Tim. I’m jus’ a little tired, stop laughing at me.” Really, Tim tried to suppress the giggle that was rising in his throat, but how could he? Jason was just too darn adorable. The giggle earned Tim an even more fierce(re:cutie patootie) glare. “It’s not my fault I was so good on patrol. Being a good Robin is hard work.”

That last word didn’t quite leave Jason’s mouth before the tail end of it was interrupted by a yawn. Raising his eyebrow, Tim just stared at the boy he considered his little brother. He’s got the stubborn part of the deal down to a T.

“Jay, you’ve got school tomorrow,” Tim moved to float upright and neared the foot of the bed. He crossed his arms across his chest, forcing the raised eyebrow higher. It was the Alfred look ™ and Tim had spent the last few years nearly perfecting it. “You’ve got that history final that you said you’d study for in a few days. Plus, Alfred’s going to be upset that you’re reading instead of getting sleep.”

At the mention of his Grandfather, Jason’s eyes opened a bit more with alertness. No one defies a sleep order from Alfred without major disappointed looks. The man was also a master of sass and Tim had seen how the Waynes had been on the receiving side of it for years. Jason did not want that.

The boy moved like a slug with a fire under his ass; slow but with vigor. Slipping his flashlight into the top drawer of his nightstand, Jason slow blinked. Kind of like a frog. “It’s not like you could even tell on me if you tried. You’re my imaginary friend, and only I can see you, so there.”

“Sure, sure, whatever you say Jay,” Tim kicked his legs up to recline in the air, crossing one leg over the other. I’m just a diva like that . “Just, you know how Alfred is. He always seems to know everything. Even when no one tells him.”

He brought a hand up to inspect the nails. It didn’t matter that his gloves were on and he couldn’t get them off, so there were no nails to see. It was for the effect . 

Over the tips of his gloves, Tim could see how Jason rolled his eyes, but he could also see the fondness under it.

“Alright Timbo, I’m going to sleep,” Jason pulled up the comforter, moving to tuck every part of himself except his head snugly beneath it. His eyes were slipping closed now, finally giving in to sleep. “No need to call in the cavalry.”

“Goodnight Jason,” Tim floated slowly towards the door, not wanting to wake Jason up with any sudden moves. 

As Tim moved to step through the wood door, he heard Jason mumble a small, “G’night Timmy.”

God, this kid has no right to be this adorable. Who taught him that shit? Certainly wasn’t me. Tim shook his head with a fond air. Now that Jason was asleep for the evening, Tim felt like he needed to move a little. He didn’t really feel like heading down to Batcave though, didn’t want to hear the concerned conversations about Jason. And how Tim was the cause of the worry.

So, he did what he always does when he’s bored; Tim headed to the library.

Sitting at that same bay window he always did, Tim let himself settle in. He took the edges of his cape and wrapped himself up in it. Tightly. The sensation of a too cold hug filled him, but it was a hug all the same. A Tim special.

Well, I guess I’ll try to get a little shut eye. Maybe I’ll even get something other than the void. Tim chuckled to himself. Staring out the window at Drake manor, he felt his own eyes starting to shut.

A familiar inky black over took his vision, spreading from the edges and oozing into the center. It enveloped him, gently pulling Tim into its embrace. He knew he was in the pit now, but it never felt like he’d moved a muscle.

When Tim opened his eyes again, the darkness was no longer there. Instead, he was in a dark room with stony walls and all. Light flickered across the walls from the powerful torches positioned along the stone crevices.

He took in the familiar sight. As he did, a small voice from behind him spoke up.

“Timothy!”

Turning around, Tim smiled wide. On the bed before him sat the boy he’d seen that first ‘nap.’ “Hey Baby Bat. Sleep well?”