Chapter Text
There were a few things Tim always expected when he woke up. The first was surprise - when the hell had he fallen asleep? It was usually then that the pain and the stiffness made themselves known. Whatever position he had adopted to sleep was rarely optimal for his joints and his healing injuries. Sometimes, this was followed by confusion in the face of unknown whereabouts, and then a prompt mental run through of events which usually cleared ninety-six percent of the circumstances.
All this was done in record time, mostly due to experience. If there was one thing that the past had thought Tim, it was to stay awake and aware, because most of the time, he woke up in hostile situations.
Unfortunately, this day was not one hectic, chaotic mess and Tim quickly found himself completely out of his comfort zone.
He was fine, completely fine. He couldn’t feel that stab wound a local drug lord had given him three days ago, or the gurgling of his stomach, curtesy of Scarecrow’s new formula which had upset his digestive system. And it wasn’t just that - he wasn’t in any room he recognised, and yet the room he was in was unmistakably his.
The posters, the music albums stacked on the bedside table, the books perched on the shelves, the handwriting on the homework by his desk, it was all his. Not the exact same posters and albums, but the same interests, the same games he played, the same bands he loved - Christ, even the camera on the desk was the same model he preferred using, with less scratches and stains. Whoever had set this room up had either intimate knowledge of Tim’s mind or this was something else entirely.
Hallucination? Mind control?
If anyone knew so much about him, they’d have been able to reproduce his room perfectly, to the last detail. So why make it so obviously different? Why switch the traditional style architecture of the Manor for a more modern, simpler style? Why purchase books he’d never read, but would have obviously been prone to buying? And why -
Why modify his body?
With disturbing detachment, Tim jumped out of the (his?) bed and stared at his arms, slowly turning them to get a good look at every angle. Now compared to his peers, Tim didn’t exactly have the body of a veteran warfighter. He wasn’t covered in scar tissue like Bruce, and he certainly didn’t have Kon’s muscle mass. But he still was a vigilante by night, and he still had a few marks on his body and a body athletic enough to get by. Yes, his arms were thin, but not that thin. Yes, his skin was pale, but it wasn’t that spotless.
He was the right height though, the right colour.
Gotham had shown him many disgusting things, but this was, this was Professor Pyg kind of disgusting. This was invasive and -
Subdue your panic, inner-Bruce spoke in his mind, look for clues, understand your situations before reacting to it.
Tim opened the closets of this (his?) room to see if he could find anything of relevance.
Right down to my fashion sense, he thought in horror, I’ve got to get me one of these hoodies - focus Drake!
He caught his face on the mirror stuck to the closet door and was once again overwhelmed by this feeling of familiar unknown. Those were his eyes staring back, but with less pronounced bags under them. And his hair was shorter, like it had been before Bruce took a trip in time.
He needed to figure things out. Quickly. For the sake of his sanity.
But first, he had to get out of these tacky pyjamas. They were flash patterned - as in, Barry Allen’s symbol. Plus, the clothes in this (his?) wardrobe probably fit him, like everything else in this room.
…
Oh how he hated being right.
This was becoming downright creepy, and Tim didn’t use that word lightly. He had lived with Creep McCreep himself for years, after all. God knew Bruce’s near omniscient knowledge perturbed every other hero out there. At least now Tim knew what it was like to be on the receiving end. He’d never make fun of the Titans calling him an obsessive stalker again. Never.
Tim walked to the door to check the lock. Chances were, whoever had orchestrated this knew Tim was Red Robin, Batman’s apprentice. They’d have taken extra precautions, because all the Bats were escape artists of the highest calib-
It wasn’t locked.
What. The. Fuck.
The door wasn’t locked. He was free to go. Tim could just, walk out.
The concept was strangely foreign.
It didn’t even make sense. Sure Tim was a messy person by nature, but from the looks of it, this room hadn’t been opened or cleaned in days. The air felt heavy and there were plates and food crumbs and - It looked just like his room when he’d spend days working on a case through his computer. But that couldn’t be right, because this room, this Tim, wasn’t a master detective. There were no case files around, no whiteboard covered in ideas, no pins and threads and pictures and -
So if he had been holed up in this room for days, but wasn’t actually working on anything, and could have walked out anytime, what. The. Fuck.
Using all the stealth that had been instilled in his every day movements from an early age, Tim turned the knob of the door and made his way down the unfamiliar corridor. He was immensely glad he didn’t recognise the house one bit, and it was physically painful for any Bat to revel in ignorance.
It wasn’t an overly fancy house like Tim was used to. Not the Manor, not Dick’s penthouse, and not his Nest. But it wasn’t cheap either. Perhaps it was closer to the house he lived in with his dad, but smaller, and a lot more plain when it came to decorations.
“- tomorrow at latest. This cannot be good for him, we agreed on -“
Tim stilled. The voices were coming from downstairs and were, much to Tim’s dismay, familiar. He couldn’t tell who exactly, but at the moment, he was a bit too distraught to put one and one together, much less two and two. Carefully, he crept towards the source of the voices.
After navigating through the stairs, Tim got to a living room that opened on a kitchen, a single counter separating the two. A man and a woman were sitting at the counter talking, their backs facing Tim. The woman had a cascade of wavy black hair and was dressed like she was going to some cocktail party. Her friend, tall, blond, broad shoulder, was wearing completely casual clothes - a bit too neat for the common man, but quite similar to the clothes Green -
“Oliver Queen?” Tim asked, mouth gaping, before he could stop himself.
“Holy @#$%!” Yes, it was Oliver Queen all right; there was no mistaking that eloquent mouth, “When the @#$% did you get here, Tim?”
“Tim! What a pleasant surprise!” The woman - was that a scantily dressed Diana? - smiled, “How are you?”
There was something a tad too gentle about her tone that Tim didn’t entirely like. It was the Robin tone, dubbed as is because it was the tone every adult superhero used whenever they first met a Robin. The tone that was asking Bruce what the hell he was thinking bringing someone so young in his crusade. The tone that said ‘stay behind me, I’ll protect you,’ and that every single Robin loathed nearly as much as Alfred’s waffles.
“Wonder Woman?” Tim stammered as Diana walked over to hug him.
“You all right Tim?” Queen asked, looking visibly worried but hiding it in a humorous tone, “You used my full name and Di’s title. Are we in trouble?”
Diana slapped his arm, sending him some kind of message through a threatening glare. Queen gulped.
“Don't mind him, sweetie.” Sweetie? “He's happy to see you walking about, and so early in the morning too. Would you like breakfast?”
Was Wonder Woman offering to cook breakfast for him? What was anyone supposed to answer to that? Did Diana even cook? Was it some kind of trick to see if Tim thought she belonged in a kitchen? Would saying yes offend her? Would saying no offend her?
“I - What - How - Just, I…”
“I think you broke him,” Queen told her in a stage whisper.
Diana ignored him, bending slightly to reach Tim’s eye level instead. She gently placed a hand on his cheek, and gave him the most sympathetic look Tim had ever gotten in his life. It was a gift Diana had, to let her emotions show fully whenever she let them. When she gave her condolences or sympathy, you just knew that she meant every bit of it. That was why Diana always spoke at funerals, why she was the one who never hesitated to approach a grieving friend.
But Tim was pretty fine emotionally at this point. His low moments had passed, and Diana was a bit late on the whole thing.
“It's okay, Tim. If you still need a few more days,” she said softly, “just - just remember we’re here for you.”
“He's already spent four days locked in his room,” Queen pointed out, looking every bit as concerned as Diana, “this can’t be healthy.”
“He's just lost his father, Ollie,” Diana growled, “have some tact!”
Tim’s heart skipped a beat. He grabbed Diana’s wrist and snapped his eyes to meet hers.
“What happened to Bruce?”
Diana startled at his sudden focus and her confusion clearly left her speechless.
“Bruce?” Queen repeated, frowning, “Your father’s name is - was Jack. Jack Drake? Of Janet and Jack Drake? We were at his funeral just a few days ago?”
Crap. Alternate dimension?
“I knew that,” Tim huffed, “I thought I heard you mention a Bruce when I was walking down. I wanted to know what you were talking about.”
And thank you, Alfred, for your magnificent improv classes.
Queen and Diana shared a look that didn’t quite imply Tim was acting like he had a screw loose, but it did practically scream it in a megaphone. Luckily, it seemed they were convinced he was in some kind of denial - and didn’t Tim just love when everyone he cared about thought he was in denial - and were willing to excuse all his quirks.
Alternate dimension doesn’t make sense either, inner-Bruce said, you’re not in your body.
Could his soul have travelled alone?
“You must have misheard, honey,” Diana told him, standing up to her full height once more and walking back to the kitchen, “Bacon and eggs?”
“Sure,” Tim replied, allowing Queen to shepherd him to a seat at the counter.
“I was thinking,” Queen started.
“Don't hurt yourself,” Tim quipped out of habit. Teasing the Green Arrow was a national sport for costumed superheroes.
“Ha!” Queen laughed sarcastically, “and here we were worried about you, smartass. Good to see you back to halfway normal. Anyways, as I was saying to Diana before you came downstairs willingly,” Queen stressed the last word while pointedly sending Diana a look, “I know you might not really want to leave the house right now, but don’t you think spending a few days away from us and with your team would be a good idea? Friends are exactly what you need right now, Timmy.”
If these Teen Titans were as close to their Tim as Tim was close to his Teen Titans, they’d notice something was off from the start. It was dangerous waters, but then again, if the superheroes couldn’t help him, who would? Bruce always did make a point not to reveal any information about one-selves unless absolutely necessary, and to blend in as much as one could. But how would he get back to his world if he was too busy living other Tim Drake’s life?
Wait - were they even superheroes? Diana did respond to the name Wonder Woman, and Queen did mention a team of his but - Tim had no idea how similar/different this world was. He didn’t even know if it was real.
“You don’t have to say yes,” Diana reassured him as she placed a plate in front of him. Tim was so going to rub it in Jason’s face that he ate a meal cooked by Wonder Woman when he made it home. “You haven’t shot a single arrow in a whole week. It may be a bit too soon to jump back right in the middle of the action.”
An arrow. Shot an arrow. Oh no. Tim could see where this was going. Tim could hit a target at a fairly big distance with a bow, Bruce had made sure of that. He just couldn’t hit bullseye, and certainly not shoot the centre of a moving target while doing some weird acrobatics. In the midst of battle he’d probably manage to get by, but anyone would see the difference.
For one, he’d prefer punching, kicking and using his bow as a bo staff.
Was he Queen’s apprentice in this world? Whose muscle memory did he have? His or other Tim’s?
Luckily, Tim was saved from answering.
“Tim?” Connor - a Connor Hawke, who had just entered the living room/kitchen asked, “you’re… You’re up?”
“Couldn’t mope forever,” Tim shrugged, savouring the bacon. It was mediocre, but it was cooked by Wonder Woman.
Connor frowned, grabbing a seat at the counter as well, “you don’t have to pretend to be fine,” he wisely advised, “I’m sure the others will understand. How are you feeling?”
Disoriented. Confused. Slightly scared.
“I’m okay,” he said instead, “honestly.”
“You’re in denial,” Connor realised.
Tim’s eye twitched.
“But I think dad’s right. Going back to Young Justice would do you some good. Your teammates have faced similar tragedies in their lives and-”
Tim tuned out Connor’s actually good advice for a minute. He knew Connor was probably the most emotionally adjusted and reasonable one amongst the capes, but the name Young Justice had caught his attention. Young Justice was his old team, the one he’d formed with Kon, Bart, Cassie and Cissy almost just for fun. It was a happier team, a messier one. It was before Donna had died, before any of them realised what it meant to play this game. Young Justice had disbanded for a reason, and Tim wasn’t sure he liked what it meant that he was seventeen and still part of it.
A few years back he wouldn’t have minded. But now that he’d spent years working as a cape? He could understand the stigma Young Justice had received, because it wasn’t a profession to be taken lightly. All their dicking around had caused Donna her life, and Tim wasn’t comfortable with ignoring that. Being part of Young Justice was just like offering a gun to Bruce; it was disrespectful.
“I’m not sure I’m up for that yet,” Tim interrupted.
“What are you up for then?” Queen asked as he sipped his coffee, “And don’t say staying in your room, son. You’ve done enough of that.”
“Take it slow,” Diana advised, reprimanding Queen with another look, “don’t cut yourself off, of course. Cassandra has been very worried about you. But don't rush it either.”
Diana glanced at the clock on the stove, “I have to go, take care of yourself, Timothy. You too, Connor.”
“What about me?” Queen smirked.
Diana pecked his lips as she walked out, leaving his question hanging.
Wait. Rings on their hands. They were married. Green Arrow and Wonder Woman were married. This was a family moment. Tim was part of the Arrow family. But that didn’t make sense either. If his father had only died a few days before, why did Tim have a room in Queen’s house? There was no mistaking that his room had been occupied and lived in for quite a while. Other Tim had obviously been hit quite hard by his father’s death, so it wasn’t like they were estranged either. And Oliver Queen was married to Diana Prince. That was - weird, at best.
“So, Young Justice?” Queen insisted, “Come on, it’ll be fun!”
“I don’t think-"
Tim blinked.
“What,” he managed to articulate.
He was standing in front of a big house, one he knew too well. It had been Young Justice’s headquarters for a while back in his world. This was where he’d shown his face to his best friends for the first time, where they had once held an election and Cassie had beaten him - But those times were long gone. And Tim was pretty sure he’d insisted he did not want to come here.
“I can’t believe you actually tried to convince dad to stay home,” Connor whistled, impressed, “you know he’s the most stubborn man on Earth, right?”
And he had known. Everyone knew how opinionated Oliver Queen was, how the smallest comment could trigger hour long rants from him. But to actually witness it was a novel experience. It was like being caught in a short but violent bout of rain on a sunny day. It was over before one could register the sky had turned grey, and then the sun was glaring back as if nothing had happened. But everything was wet. Everything.
Yeah, Tim wasn’t sure where that comparison was going either. But seriously, what had just happened?
It was too late now though. Connor was already knocking at the door. Tim was already dressed in red with a quiver on his back. Connor kept calling him Red Speedy. Tim couldn't fathom why. The original Speedy was already all red. This was dumb. Did Mia even exist in this world?
The door swung opened and Cassandra Sandsmark showed herself in all her demigod glory. She looked just like she did back in his world, with her red Wonder Girl shirt, her jeans and her crimson boots. Only, she still wore the black wig and the goggles, which was slightly weird. It felt childish even if it didn’t have to be. In Tim’s mind, Cassie had outgrown the wig - reverting to it was like erasing a part of the strength she’d built over the years.
“G.A!” Cassie smiled, “and Tim! Oh my God, Tim, it’s been forever! Are you feeling better? We wanted to visit you but-“ Cassie bit her lips, and Tim felt like shoving her lasso down her throat. Out of all the heroes there were very few he couldn’t forgive for using the Robin tone, but his best friends were part of them. Hadn’t he proved himself enough times?
“It's Red Speedy when I’m wearing the mask,” Tim replied as he usually did when names slipped in the field.
Cassie and Connor seemed taken aback by the answer and yes, Tim might have been a bit cold with his words. Clearly other Tim wasn’t Bat trained.
“I'm fine,” he amended, “I just needed to… Get out.”
The two blondes’ faces softened.
“Don't worry,” Cassie told him, “you're going through some rough stuff," then, to Connor, “you're welcome to come in too if you want."
“I’m just here to drop off my brother,” Connor answered, “but thank you for the offer.”
Cassie shrugged, “Your loss. Come on, Tim. The others will be so happy to see you!”
Tim allowed himself to be led through the house, finding that there was not much he could do without raising suspicion but follow. He needed to get more info, and soon.
As it was when Tim was still sporting green tights, the lounge of the Young Justice mansion was messy and noisy. There were empty packs of chips and soda cans spread everywhere, magazines and CDs scattered throughout the room, and a bunch of young heroes either playing ping pong or lazing around.
The first thing Tim noticed was that Kon was nowhere to be seen. Kon was always watching the TV or reading magazines back when they were in YJ together. Back then he was all confidence and cool kid aesthetics. Tim nearly snorted at the memory. Man, they were all so lame before being Teen Titans! And now - now Kon hated half of himself.
Tim shook the thought away.
Bart as Kid Flash was at the ping pong table with Jaime Reyes as the Blue Beetle, Iris West the second as Impulse and some other kid whose face Tim couldn’t see because of her body being covered in black spandex from head to toe.
Surprisingly, Zachary Zatara was there too, talking to… was that Secret? Had Greta not lost her powers to Darkseid?
The line up of this team was just plain weird.
“Look who’s here!” Cassie announced, moving to shove Tim forward gently. Tim anticipated the move before though, and managed to sidestep the hand discreetly enough that Cassie would think she'd misjudged the distance.
“Tim!” Bart beamed, zapping in front of Tim instantaneously, “Buddy! How are you?”
Everyone’s eyes were suddenly fixed on Tim.
“Good, thanks.”
A blank.
“You’re allowed to be sad, you know,” Impulse - Seriously, wasn’t she, like, six? What the hell was she doing here? - pointed out, “your daddy just died.”
“Impulse!” Greta chided.
Tim was a good liar, an excellent liar even. He was the king of liars. He lied to Batman himself. But that didn’t make him an excellent actor. Bruce had made sure he could do angry and scary quite well, he had even practiced looking terrified for when he was caught in a shit-storm in his civilian clothing, but sad? He had the default Bat-coping methods of being sad: throwing himself into a case, shutting himself out and, sometimes, stealing from the president of the United States to try and clone his best friend.
He joked about it but being sad was not something Tim could act. He’d had sever depression multiple times; it wasn’t something he wanted to fall back into, not even for pretend.
“I just don’t want to talk about it,” Tim admitted, reverting to basic superhero dialogue 101.
Bart didn’t look convinced, but he let it slide, “Whatever rocks your boat, bro.”
“Don't bottle it all up,” Cassie advised.
“It's not that I don’t appreciate the rare emotional moments we have around here,” Zach interrupted, “but are we sure it’s a good idea to bring Robin Hood back into the fold right now? We need to be at the top of our game: Leviathan’s coming.”
Tim didn’t like Zachary Zatara that much, very few did actually, but hearing him call him Robin earned him a few carrot points. Even if it was in reference to something else.
Leviathan though? Where had he heard that name?
Bruce’s files. Batman Inc.
Not that he’d read those files, since he wasn’t allowed to. Hacking into the Bat-computer at seven in the morning when Bruce and Oracle were asleep (he checked before sneaking out of bed) was just plain rude. Obviously. He’d deny everything if someone were to tell.
“Should I sit this one out, then?” Tim suggested, looking forward to some time alone so he could find a laptop and pray the wifi password hadn’t changed.
“Shit, he’s gonna feel left out again,” Bart whispered to Jaime, too low for Tim to hear.
But I can read your fucking lips, Bart.
“What’s up with Leviathan anyway?” Tim asked instead.
“Who knows what’s up with that brat ever?” Zach grimaced, “He’s coming for our blood, as always. He put Eddie in the hospital two days ago. Probably would have killed him if Greta hadn’t made it there in time to teleport him away.”
“Is he alright?” Tim found himself asking, guessing the Eddie he was referring to was Red Devil.
“He’ll live,” Cassie answered darkly, “we wanted to tell you but…”
“I didn’t answer my phone,” Tim finished. Cassie nodded. “I understand. What are his injuries?”
Jaime sighed, “Stab wounds, blood loss, broken bones - Leviathan’s usual M.O.”
Trained assassin. Probably a high level martial artist and master of blades. Use of poison and firearms highly unlikely. Close combat. Metahuman level.
“He went after Eddie when he was alone,” Cassie continued, “the coward. He’s too scared to take us on all at once.”
Or too smart, Tim thought.
“You know what?” Cassie suddenly decided, “I’m calling a team meeting.”
“We’re already all here,” The girl in black spandex pointed out.
“I won’t stand by while Leviathan hunts us like rabbits,” Cassie declared, “we’re going to bring the fight to him.”
“NO!” Jaime practically screamed, “the scarab, I mean,” he amended, “he wanted to - never mind. Carry on.”
“Hal told us not to go after criminals on our own,” Greta reminded them severely, “'Do not attack, defend,'” she quoted, “Wonder Woman and the Flash said the same.”
“Aren't you tired of this though?” Bart asked her slightly angrily, “Every few months Leviathan comes bother us, leaving behind a trail of blood. He’s not Luthor or Sinestro or Darkseid - He’s not big enough for the Justice League to deal with him. But we still have put up with him punching holes into our friends!”
“We know where he is,” Cassie added, “Beetle can track him - he’s just there, in our reach. Are we really going to ignore him unless he tries to decapitate us again, just because the adults told us to? I’m tired of being treated like benched players! We’re heroes too! And we can't just do nothing while Eddie's in the hospital!”
“He's near Westmond Park,” Jaime confirmed, "It's only an hour away in jet."
“I'm not sure this is a good idea,” Tim pitched in. It never ended well when a team of young heroes went on a mission feeling rebellious and entitled to some action. Tim had been on enough young superhero team ups to know. Besides, the Justice League too rarely went on the offensive. There was a reason why the Outsiders felt the need to be created - heroes couldn’t just go around poking sleeping dragons.
“Fine, you’re staying here anyways,” Cassie decided.
“Excuse me?”
“Dude,” Bart chuckled, “Last time you went up against Leviathan with us you lost your spleen.” Seriously? Was Tim not allowed to keep his spleen in any universe? “You're a kickass fighter, Tim. But you’re just human. This is too dangerous.”
Oh. Wow. Tim hadn’t heard that argument in a while. Back home, heroes feared the ‘just human’ Bats more than they feared their super-powered, super-invulnerable, super-whatever peers. Ever Red Robin was starting to make a real name for himself, especially after he’d orchestrated the League of Assassins' biggest failure in the History of failures. Tim was always overpowered by his enemy, but he always won.
Then again, what did he care? These guys weren’t his best friends. They were a version of them, one that clearly didn’t know Tim that well, or had any respect for the archer.
He said it before, he needed the time alone. Whoever this Leviathan was, he had excellent timing.
“Fine,” Tim conceded blankly, “I think my shooting’s a bit rusty anyway.”
“Look, Tim,” Cassie said in her Robin tone, “we don’t want you to feel-“
“It’s fine, Wonder Girl,” Tim insisted, “Now all of you go before I change my mind and follow you.”
Without any other words out of fear of hurting the fragile Tim Drake, the team moved out, leaving said Tim Drake alone in the house.
He took the opportunity to snoop around the house, avoiding the cameras.
Things were more or less the same, except for a few changes. For one, the tiny training room his YJ team had used to show off each other’s skills had been turned into a much bigger, much more functional training facility. It was equipped with every installation each individual needed to hone their abilities. There was even an isolated arena for metahumans to go all out against each other.
There was also a new hangar, which seemed to serve as a garage for the Super-Cycle and whatever plane the YJ team had taken off on. Luckily, the Super-Cycle was sleeping; God knew the vehicle acted like a hug deprived puppy dog on most days.
Lastly, and the greatest change in the house, was a central computer. They hadn’t had a central computer in the mansion in Tim’s world. Back at the mountain, yes, but simply because it was a decommissioned Justice League headquarters.
They weren’t the Teen Titans, but they weren’t his Young Justice either. This incarnation seemed halfway between the two, and not just because of the members on the roster. They didn’t have the Teen Titans' experience and reputation, but they weren’t twelve year olds either. Kids didn't stay kids forever.
It didn’t take five minutes for Tim to get into the systems and have access to all files. His first priority was Leviathan - it was the immediate threat. After all, Cassie had pointed out he’d attacked Red Devil when the young hero was alone. There was a chance he’d come after Tim at the moment. Separating your enemies was a basic strategy.
Cassie was a great leader in this world too, she just wasn’t used to playing chess with her villains yet.
A face popped out on the screen. It was a face Tim had never seen before, one of a ten or twelve year old with dark brown eyes, a rich brown skin, and light brown hair. The file affiliated him with the League of Assassins. He had attacked Young Justice multiple times in the past, the earlier attempts dating back three years ago. He had never used any of Ra’s ninjas, nor given a reason for the attacks. And he usually attacked them when they were together and at the YJ mansion.
He wasn’t a metahuman as far as YJ knew, but he was smart and tricky. He knew all their weaknesses and -
Oh shit.
The file read:
Name: Damian Al Ghul, son of Talia Al Ghul and Bane