Work Text:
He’s in darkness, and then he’s not.
The desert sands reappear around him, stained with the blood of Z and Owens and Pru and-
Tim blinks.
The Widower is gone. But Tim is still here. And more importantly, he’s finally found proof. Finally found evidence that Bruce is alive, that he's just lost, that he's in time somewhere–
Pru gurgles.
Tim stares.
I have to find Bruce is like a foghorn in his head. It's all that's important. It's all he cares about. Nothing else matters.
But.
Tim stares at the bodies on the ground. At the red torso surrounded by a growing puddle.
He might need her help.
Between the two of them, they make it to a hotel. Pru's hands on the wheel and Tim driving, since she's still unconscious.
“Timothy Drake-Wayne?!” Tam squeaks. Eyes ripping away from Pru's barely breathing form on the bed to look around the room wildly.
“Here,” Tim says, beside her. Tam shrieks.
The doors bang open. League ninjas pour in. They look at Pru. Look at Tam. Surround her.
She's here because of me. I need to protect her. It's not more important than finding Bruce. But it's important enough that Tim comes into view, stepping in front of Tam.
“If Ra’s sent you for me, I’m here,” Tim says. “And if he wants me to stick around and cooperate, you’ll leave her alone.”
They take Tam with them, and Tim can’t really stop it. He’s here and they can see him, but even that much is taking an annoying amount of focus and he can’t do much more.
That changes when they reach the League of Assassins base.
Rich. The air is rich. That's the best descriptor. Like taking a bath in a protein shake. Everything that was hard before is suddenly nearly effortless. Tim strides into Ra's al Ghul's audience chamber so present that he actually gets the pleasure of shoulder checking some ninjas in his way.
And there is also something gratifying in the way Ra’s looks at him. Pointed, genuine interest. Begrudging respect.
“I see your mentor did not neglect the spiritual side of training," Ra's says, appraising. "That he himself has not made use of it is more evidence that you are right, and he is in fact alive.”
“He is alive,” Tim snaps. “And I’m going to find him.”
Ra's offers to help, for a price of course. He wants Tim's assistance in dealing with the assassins who killed- the assassins from the desert. In exchange, Tim can make use of League resources to find Bruce. Their servers and spy networks and ties to museums and international connections. And the rich air that keeps him grounded.
Tim can leave at any time of course. But Tam can't. And also–
He can't leave if leaving won't find Bruce. He has to find Bruce. If staying with the League of Assassins and working for Ra's is the best way, the only way, then Tim has to stay with the League.
He has to find Bruce.
He has to find Bruce.
When Tim finds all the proof he needs, he almost leaves.
His mind goes empty of anything but satisfaction and pleasure and urgency. He has enough evidence to finally get the Justice League to listen to him. He's found Bruce, roughly speaking, and now they have to go get him.
Tim almost leaves. Might have, if he hadn’t realized he's not exactly sure if and how he could get to Gotham. He gets the sense that it'll be...hard. Difficult to be so far away from the place that he–
Trying to just go probably won't work. But Tim thinks he could travel there the regular way. That would probably work. The thing inside him that refuses to stop until Bruce is back will ensure it works.
And because Tim has to stop and think about his next move, he remembers Tam. Remembers that protecting her is also really, really important. Even though he both scares her and makes her sad. She's here because of him. So he has to get her back to Gotham too. And then–
Tim will find Bruce.
He will.
Gotham is even better than the League base, in terms of protein shake air. Unlike Tam, who first met Tim when he couldn't even open a door without Pru and knew immediately, Lucius and the lawyers don’t suspect a thing. Tim signs documents and shakes hands and if there’s a draft making goosebumps stand on their skin, it’s blamed on over-enthusiastic air conditioning.
Maybe it’s Gotham. Or maybe it’s that everything is easier when he’s not working with Bruce's enemies. When he's following Bruce's orders, preserving his legacy, instead.
Tim can't let Ra's win.
He can't let Bruce down.
“I looked for you. And I couldn’t find you,” Kon whispers. “Couldn’t hear you. And I knew–,”
“That’s not important," Tim cuts him off sharply. "I need your help protecting everything that was important to Bruce. I need you to protect Alfred."
“But you– is there anything– can we fix this–,”
“I'm not important. This isn't about me."
Kon squeezes his eyes shut. Makes a low, awful sound. Swaying on his feet, like he can barely stay standing.
It makes– it makes Tim blink furiously. The phantom sensation of wetness gathering against his eyelashes. Kon was gone. And now he's back. And that's not the most important thing, but Kon is important. To Tim. They're important to each other.
But right now, nothing is more important than finding Bruce.
"I need your help, Kon," Tim says softly. Lets a hand rest on Kon's arm. Doesn't feel his shiver, but sees it. "Please."
"Okay Rob." Kon's voice broken, unsteady. "But I...I want to bring you home, after. So can you...can you please tell me where you are?"
Ra’s plays dirty.
They actually fight to start. Solid blows. Tim's...advantage can almost account for the difference in age and experience between them. But he can't press that advantage to its full potential– sure, it would be nice if Ra's physically couldn't land a hit on him, but that might cause Tim's weapons to fall through his hands. And possibly cause him to fall through the floor.
But then Ra's pulls a dirty trick. Blowing a fistful of white straight into Tim's face. And Tim makes a sound that's both guttural and hissing, trying to claw off the little granules burning his form.
"Well done, Detective," says Ra's, eyes glittering with that same deep, keen interest. "We will meet again."
By the time Tim's free of salt and no longer kind of melting, Ra's is gone and Dick is bursting through the glass window.
“Red Robin,” Dick says, gruff but doing a terrible job at hiding his panic. “Status?”
“Fine,” Tim says. Has fixed his appearance in time to prove it. There are no marks on him at all. "Ra’s fled. He knew he lost.”
Dick's mouth presses thinly, like he can't quite believe it. But he nods. Rattles off a status report on the rest of their team. It's clear that he hasn't noticed...hasn't noticed. Which means Kon kept Tim's secret.
But none of that is important.
“Bruce is alive,” Tim says, cutting Dick off. “I have to find– I have proof. I have proof that he’s alive and we can find him.”
There’s nothing Tim can do to expedite the Justice League's search for Bruce in the time stream.
But he's able to switch focus, while he waits. Just like he did when he stopped Ra's in Gotham. Safeguarding Bruce's city and legacy. Tim has to make sure Gotham and Wayne Enterprises are intact when Bruce returns.
So he does.
He's Red Robin. He works with the Bats. It's not...not hard, exactly. Gotham is easy to be present in. To hold weapons and land corporeal hits. Vicki Vale is briefly a problem, but loses her footing when sightings of Red Robin drop to near zero. It's effortless for Tim to not be seen. And the theory Vale is trying to build collapses when there's next to no proof that Red Robin exists at all.
But even though being in Gotham gives Tim a degree of steadiness and control that's probably unusual, he's not always where he's supposed to be. He loses time, sometimes. Frustrates Dick and Steph with flakiness. Disappoints Alfred with a mounting number of missed calls.
Tim never misses a WE meeting though. Taking control of Wayne Enterprises is something Bruce asked of Tim specifically. Not Dick, not Cass, not Damian. Not a role Tim inherited or 'stole', or a role stolen from him. Something uniquely for Timothy Drake-Wayne, for his strengths, for his capabilities, proving he'd carved a place of his own in Bruce's never-ending mission. It's something no one can ever take away; the trust.
Tim never misses a WE meeting. And Lucius promises his secretary to have building maintenance take a look at the air conditioning.
Red Robin and Wayne Enterprises. Gotham and legacy. There were other things that Tim had wanted to do. Contingency plans. A new hideout, separate from the Batcave. Reconnecting with old friends. But–
There's no point now.
Tim works with the Bats but keeps his distance. Which Robin seems to prefer until he doesn't. Until he's snidely asking if Drake thinks he's too good for them now. And Dick doesn't say that, but there's a strain between them when they're in the field together. He doesn’t understand why Tim is so distant. Though unlike Damian, he knows it’s universal. That Cassie and Bart are wondering the same. Wondering why Tim won’t leave Gotham to visit San Francisco even for a day.
(Tim doesn’t think he’d last very long outside of Gotham. The more time that passes, the harder it is to stay. He’s already stayed for so long)
Kon knows, and understands, and visits often and always asks where are you let me go get you please tell me where you are but Tim can’t risk Kon getting a magic user involved, thinking it’s for Tim’s own good. Kon’s kept the secret so far, from the Bats and from Cassie and from Bart, but Tim can’t risk anything that might stop him from finding Bruce. And his greatest vulnerability is what he left behind on another continent.
Eventually, he promises Kon Once Bruce is found, I’ll send you coordinates. And it doesn’t stop the tears, but it does at least stop the asking.
Babs, of course, has eyes that the others don’t. Not a third eye, or a sixth sense, but discerning digital vision. And she’s noticed comms static, and blurry photos, and camera footage that never focuses if it captures Tim at all.
“Are you displaying signs of a meta gene?” Barbara asks. Begs.
“No,” Tim says. She buries her face in her hands.
When she pulls herself together, Barbara asks, “But you’re…you’ll stay?” Something like hope in her voice. An expression on her face that suggests she hates herself for the asking and the hope.
“I have to find Bruce,” Tim answers.
“And once he’s found?”
He doesn’t say anything. And he spends the next few days gone, not reappearing until the next WE press conference.
And that’s an answer in itself, isn’t it?
It’s only the strength of knowing that this is it, this is finding Bruce, that allows Tim to stay steady in the Watchtower.
So, so far away from Gotham. From anything that could help keep him solid and strong. In space, there is nothing but his conviction, his anchor, his business that remains unfinished holding him together.
The secret is blown, however. All the assembled Justice League members can see right through him. Some of them look unprofessionally unnerved. Others look unprofessionally heartbroken. Somewhere on Earth, Kon’s phone has received coordinates. A general location for something Tim left behind months ago.
But none of that matters.
Nothing matters, except for Tim’s crisply barked orders. Except for leading the operation. Except for holding the trigger-happy Justice Leaguers back when a radiation-saturated Bruce staggers out of time.
Nothing matters but his voice reaching his mentor.
Nothing matters but standing with Diana and Clark as they call Bruce Wayne back from Darkseid's magic and malice and manipulation. As they call on Bruce to find his way back to himself.
Nothing matters but Bruce’s limp body, free of omega radiation and held unbreathing between his two closest friends. Their eyes wide with wonder and grief and panic as they try to resuscitate him.
“Tell him that Gotham is in danger,” Tim says. An order and a prayer. “Tell him that Gotham needs him.”
Nothing matters but Bruce’s eyes opening. Bruce sitting up on his own. Bruce, returned.
And Tim is weightless.
He knows what Ra’s meant when he said We’ll meet again. He knows that the man thought he saw a kindred spirit, literally, in the fact that Tim was still here, that he’d refused to leave.
But Tim isn’t like Ra’s, tethered to earth by the sheer force of want, of a self-important mission requiring lifetimes of dedication. Tim isn’t even like Bruce, with an unending mission demanding eternal duty and enduring legacy. Tim has a role, and he’s fulfilled it. The light to Batman’s shadow. The bird that always sings Bruce home.
But it’s not like it was when Tim started. There are others, now. Cass, Damian, Steph. And Jason isn’t dead anymore, for whatever that’s worth. No one believed him about Bruce being alive, but maybe next time…next time they’ll look a little closer. They’ll remember that Tim was right and remember that Bruce spends too much time giving up on himself for them to give up on him too.
Maybe there’s reasons for Tim to dig his heels and fingers into the dirt, reasons to stay. But he doesn’t want to be like Ra’s, like Batman. He doesn’t want to lose the ability to let go. And he trusts his family to fill the gap he’ll leave. Technically, they already have.
He’s not going to see Ra’s again.
“Robin,” Bruce says, and it’s like a sunburst inside the cold, silent hollow of Tim’s chest. Because Bruce doesn’t know better. To Bruce, Tim is still Robin. In Bruce’s memory, Tim will always be Robin.
“It’s him, he’s…” Superman, all strain and guilt and grief. “He didn’t…he stayed to find you. But for months he’s been…he only just told Superboy where to find his body…”
“Robin,” Bruce says, like he doesn’t hear what Clark’s saying. Even though his face shows that he clearly has. He reaches out a hand. “Tim.”
Tim smiles. “I found you.”
And passes on.