Chapter Text
Tim didn't know what to expect when Damian had asked to patrol with him.
Maybe it had been naive of him to think that Dick had gotten through to the younger boy in the time that he was away. To think that the kid's upbringing could be erased in just a few months. To hope that Tim could finally have a younger brother.
It was his fault in the end.
He should have been more careful. Should have anticipated the attack. Bruce taught him better than to be so careless in the face of an enemy, to trust so easily. The fact that he hadn't slept in three days wasn't excuse. He should have been better.
He should have expected the fall.
But he had always felt safe in the skies. He was used to pull and release of the grapple. Comfortable in the fall of the swing, because he had done it so many times before. Safe, because someone had always been there to catch him, even when he didn't expect it.
But this time there was no one to catch him.
There was no Batman swooping in to save him from the unforgiving pavement below. No Superboy to catch him with a smile and a quip.
Because Batman was gone and Kon was dead.
Wait… No… That wasn't right…
Kon had come back.
He had died, and Tim had mourned him.
Even though he still saw his best friend after the fact, it had never been real.
He had even tried to clone Kon to fill the absence.
But then he actually came back.
Tim kept forgetting that…
But it was too late for that now. There was simply the catch and pull of the grapple, and then nothing. Just a snap followed by an unfamiliar slack, and the pressing weight of gravity.
The last thing Tim sees is the flash of Robin's cape as the leaves his predecessor to his demise.
The brat had chosen the location well too.
None of the skyscrapers around him had a single ledge or flagpole that he could potentially find purchase on. No place where he could fire a well timed grapple shot with his backup to save himself.
And God had he tried to save himself.
Tim remembers desperately clawing at the sides of the building closest to him, trying to find any little crack or crevice to sink his fingers into. Remembers the feeling of his nails getting ripped off from the friction as a reward for his troubles. Remembers thinking of the Flying Graysons, as the rope of their trapeze snapped and they fell.
Down.
Down.
Down.
Just like Tim himself in that moment.
He remembers the horrible crack of bone as they hit the pavement, and wonders if he made a similar sound. Maybe he would have known if the blood hadn't been rushing in his ears, blocking out any other sounds.
But he does feel bolt of pain that shoots through his whole body upon impact. The warm sticky feeling of blood pooling underneath him, and the metallic tang in his mouth as it bubbles in the back of his throat.
In hind sight, he probably should have angled himself in such a way that death would have been instant. Instead he's now sprawled on the ground with pulverized legs, a broken spine, shattered ribs, and organs that were not working the way they should.
It hurts.
It hurts more than anything he has felt in his life.
Tim thinks back to Jason who got tortured by Joker and then got blown up in a warehouse. To Kon who was beat to death by Superboy Prime. He thinks about his parents, Bart, and Darla, and everyone in his life who has died.
In his last moments, he wonders if anyone will even notice that he's gone.
If they'll care.
Damian has already taken his place as Robin, and as the younger sibling in the family.
Barbara is a better hacker than he could ever hope to be.
He isn't even a part of the Titans anymore.
Unlike his other siblings, there has never been anything unique about Timothy Drake.
Dick is flexible and able to get out of any situation with a quip and a smile. Jason is strong, stronger than he could ever hope to be. Even if his anger takes a hold of him sometimes. Cass is practically shadow incarnate. She is silent yet always sees more than anyone else. Steph is resilient and spirited. Her brash attitude isn't a fault, but rather a strength of her character. Barbara had been through so much, and yet still found a way to make more of a difference than any of them could hope to out in the streets.
And Damian was Bruce's blood child. His real son. He had been trained since his birth to be able to fight and take up the mantle as Robin. While Tim thought that the kid's attitude needed some work, everyone loved him. They all treated him like some harmless wet cat, despite the harm he had done to Tim.
Meanwhile Tim was just a tool. He had come to Bruce in his time of grieving in order to stop his hero from killing himself.
In order to save Gotham from losing her protector.
Tim's role had always been one of necessity.
Batman needed a Robin, so that's what he became. Even if no one had wanted him to. Even if he hadn't wanted to become Robin himself.
Gotham needed a Batman when Bruce was gone, so he solved that problem. He took up the cowl when Jason went on a rampage, despite promising to himself that he would never become Batman.
Someone needed to save Bruce from time-stream, so he did. Against everyone's wishes he left and did the impossible. He found proof of his mentor's continued existence.
But now there's nothing for him.
His job is over.
No one really needs him anymore.
Timothy Drake had always meant to be a temporary solution.
It only takes a few seconds after hitting the ground for the world to fade to black.
---------------------------------------------
He wakes up.
Against all odds
Against reasonable sense.
Timothy Drake is still breathing.
While his entire body aches and pulses, it's no where near the unbearable level of pain he expected.
Tim would assume the whole thing was just a dream if not for the metallic tang still filling his mouth, as well as the cold hard surface beneath him.
He can still feel the weight of the cowl on his head, as well as the hug of his suit's fabric against his skin.
He lies still.
Listening for any clues of where he might be.
But everything is eerily silent, and there is no light behind his eyelids.
Left with no other options.
Tim opens his eyes, only to be met with pitch blackness.
He waits a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, but rather than his surroundings filtering in slowly, his vision switches between one blink and the next. Almost like the night vision suddenly activated on his cowl lenses, despite him not physically turning it on.
With his improved vision, Tim finds himself in an empty cavern, likely a part of Gotham's expansive underground cave system.
Although it isn't a section he recognizes.
Seeing that no one else is around, and that he isn't being restrained in any way. Tim slowly gets to his feet, testing his legs to make sure they can hold his weight.
While he is able to stand with minimal pain, he can instantly tell that something isn't right.
His joints crack with a sickening pop, and his bones seem to grind together in places that they shouldn't.
Tim steadies himself on the cave wall with one arm, while he holds his other hand to his mouth in an effort to not throw up.
Something was very wrong,
It felt like someone had tried to put the bones in his legs back together, but they had no knowledge of the human body nor where the bones were supposed to go.
Even the arm that was currently supporting most of his weight felt off.
Hesitantly, Tim takes a step forward, wincing at the feeling of his bones sliding past one another.
But it didn't hurt, and he found that he could walk with little to no difficulty.
It was just…
Different.
His legs could now move in ways that they physically shouldn't be able to.
Although, then again.
He technically shouldn't even be alive.
"Ah, you're awake. I'm glad to see that you seem to be adjusting to the change well." A voice echos inside of his head.
"Who are you? What are you talking about?" Tim questions aloud, moving his hand to hold the side of his head in confusion.
"I am who you have fought to protect, now let me protect you." Was the response he received, much to Tim's confusion.
After all, the only one who Tim has ever tried to keep safe was Batman, and this definitely wasn't him. And while he had a lot of villains who were obsessed with him, the voice wasn't one he recognized.
Either way whoever, or whatever this is must be very powerful presuming it was the one who brought him here and was able to keep him alive while "healing" his body.
"So, what do you want from me in return for... All of this?" He asks septically. Tim knows better than to ever expect that this kind of help would come for free.
"Just for you to continue as you have been, and act as my soldier. Although I must warn you not to leave the confines of my city. For my influence cannot reach you outside of my borders." The voice informs him, only serving to further his confusion.
But he is unable to question the voice further as Tim feels a sudden absence in his mind where the presence had been.
The lack of information was unsettling to say the least.
All he knew was that his life was likely tied to whatever entity had just been speaking with him, that it wanted him to be its soldier, and that if he left the city, he would probably die.
Or re-die?
He was pretty sure he had been dead when Damian cut his line while on patrol.
Oh fuck.
Patrol.
He had no idea how much time had passed since his technically successful assassination attempt.
Tim quickly pulls up his wrist computer to pleasantly find that it still works despite the screen being cracked. He looks up the date and time, discovering that two weeks had already gone by.
He instantly brings his hand up to his cowl in an attempt turn on his comms, only to find that they must have been damaged in the fall.
Leaving him alone in a cave with no backup, and no idea how to return to the surface.
Considering how much time has passed he doubts anyone will be able to find him.
They all probably think he's dead.
Tim then takes the time to pause, and suck in a breath to calm his racing heart, only to discover that his heart rate remained unchanged despite his heightened anxiety levels.
As much as he wants to examine what that means, he forces himself to push it to the back of his mind in favor of discovering how to leave the cavern and get into contact with his family.
Dick already has enough on his shoulders as it is filling in as Batman, and the last thing he needs is to worry over Tim's absence. Even if he didn't believe himself to be necessary anymore, he knows that Dick can't handle losing another brother.
If they could even be considered brothers anymore.
Tim still loves Dick, and he knows that his older brother is just going through a lot right now.
Surely, the other still holds at least a semblance of warmth towards him.
Surely, he would have mourned Tim just a little bit.
Surely, he had noticed his absence by now…
No, he just said that Dick can't handle losing another person.
He shouldn't want Dick to have been affected by his death.
Just because he cares for the older man does not mean that the feelings are reciprocal.
Just because Dick used to call him little brother doesn't mean anything.
Because Tim had always just been a stand in for Jason.
Dick had used him as a way to relieve some of his guilt over "letting Jason die," and not treating him better before his death.
Tim was always just a stand in.
A tool.
But now Dick has a real little brother.
He shouldn't expect Dick to hold any sort of familial bond towards him.
He shouldn't want Dick to have mourned him
He shouldn't want Dick to have noticed his absence.
He shouldn't be so selfish.
He should know better than to want.
Because tools don't have wants or feelings.
And Tim is just a tool.