Chapter Text
When Damian woke, he was bound tightly to a chair, which, considering Timothy's lack of vigilante training, was fairly impressive. Of course, give him a few moments and he could get out of there with just a dislocated thumb to his name, but he had no wish to do that. Not when his goal was, in fact, a conversation with the person who had kidnapped him.
Better that Timothy think he had an upper hand and be more relaxed when speaking to him.
“I know you're awake,” Timothy said before Damian even considered opening his eyes.
Damian's lips twitched downwards and he slowly blinked, both listening and not. His eyes, focusing, met Timothy's, wide, bright, and, most importantly, racing with thoughts.
“I was not hiding it,” Damian replied, sweeping his gaze around the room. He was underground, he realized, somewhere in the cave systems under Gotham, likely. Though where was anyone's guess. Smart of him, really.
“Sure,” Tim muttered, rolling his eyes, then stepped closer, just out of immediate range of Damian should he have chosen to strike.
Not impossible, but still well-played on Timothy's part. Damian was actually impressed.
“Why have you been looking for me,” Timothy continued. “And why'd you run away?”
Damian turned up his nose. “I did not run,” He snapped. “I simply retreated.”
Timothy cocked an eyebrow.
Damian scowled. “What have my brothers said?” He demanded.
Timothy stared at him as if calculating what the information was worth, then shrugged. “That you asked about me. Said I was supposed to come for breakfast.” He crossed his arms, which was a foolish decision but Damian forgave him for virtue of his ‘civilianness’. “Isn’t that weird, Damian? Considering this is the first time we've even talked for longer than a few minutes?”
Damian shot back the same deadpan expression Timothy was so proficient at. “Very,” He agreed.
Timothy snorted.
Damian felt superior. Still, needs must and all that. “I was looking for you because I require your help,” He said.
Timothy's smile slipped. “... Help?” He asked carefully.
Damian gave a sharp nod. “I believe something is wrong. And to find out what has happened, and, indeed, how to fix it, I must find out what you know.”
Timothy frowned. For a moment, he said nothing, and every second of silence bit at Damian. Of course, he was no fool and hence did not show it, but he did feel it, which was just as bad in his opinion.
But just as Damian was about to snap at Timothy, the person in question sighed, stalked forward, past, and then began to loosen the bindings. “Well,” He said. “If we're going to talk, we might as well be comfortable.”
Damian snatched his hands to himself at the earliest opportunity and massaged his wrists. “Tt,” He muttered. “If you were going to release me anyway, why bother binding me in the first place?”
It was rhetorical, obviously, but close as he was, Timothy heard. He laughed. “I mean,” He said. “You did break into my place and snooped through my stuff.”
“Your old place.”
Timothy swiveled to the front and began walking, gesturing for him to follow. “Nah,” He said. “I bought it back.”
Damian’s eyes flared. “... Indeed?” He asked.
“Got it cheap because no one was taking it,” Timothy continued seamlessly. “But it’s still a literal mansion so I had to build up the funds, which took time.” He shot a smirk over his shoulder as he veered off to another tunnel. “You were breaking-and-entering, Damian.”
Damian shrugged delicately. “Far better than stalking, no?” He said, and revelled in Timothy's stumble.
Robin 3— no, he was no longer Robin, was he? Not here, wherever here was? Timothy turned around, slight shock tensing his shoulders even as his face showed no reaction. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“Let's not bog down this conversation with formalities,” Damian cut in, waving a hand. “I know you have been following Batman and Robin for years. I know you know I am the current Robin. Hence, we may as well speak plainly.”
Timothy stared at him carefully. “Fine,” He said, and it was only through the years of being his – ugh, he admitted it, his brother – that Damian even noticed him tense up. “Then you also know that I have years of information on Batman and Robin.”
It was a very thinly veiled threat. Unfortunately for him, Damian knew his tells and knew exactly how much of that was buster. Hint; it was all of it. Because if there was one secret Timothy Drake-Wayne— no, it was just Drake here wasn't it it? If there was one secret he would never reveal on the pain of death itself, it was Batman's secret.
But if that was what it took to get his help. Well.
“Yes,” Damian said. “I know how much information you hold.” Though he had much, much more in his world.
Tim relaxed the slightest bit. “Okay,” He said. “Let's talk.” He spared a look for their surroundings and made a face. “Uh, let's go to my apartment, first.”
“And you trust me enough to take me there?” Damian asked before he could control his mouth.
Tim huffed. “As if you don’t know where I live,” He said.
And he wasn’t wrong, just not about about the him of this place. Damian decided not to disabuse him of the notion just yet, committing the route and location to mind, just as Tim stopped in front of two exits from the caves. One led to the sewers, and the other deeper into the caves.
Tim spared one look at Damian, seemed to make a split second decision about it, then sighed and led Damian through the second entrance, stopping two minutes in and ducking into a third, almost hidden path.
“An optical illusion,” Damian breathed.
Tim was too busy slipping up the ladder attached to a blindspot next to it should anyone even find this place and look inside to listen, and Damian followed.
They emerged out into a small room that was stacked with boxes, and Tim deftly navigated them, going out to the front of the room. The place where they had exited out remained hidden, especially so after Damian let the deceptive lid swing shut on top.
“This is quite well done,” He told the other boy, because it was, especially considering he had no access to Batman’s tech or networks.
Tim shot him a grin, gestured him out of the room and into a well-furnished apartment, and then shut the door behind them. “Yeah, well. Had to get a better access point to my place,” He said. “Could keep relying on the sewers.”
“Why the caves?” Damian asked.
“They’re the best at getting lost in,” Tim answered immediately. “And…” He hesitated, then rubbed the back of his neck and gave in. “And Batman doesn’t care about them. Not unless Killer Croc is involved.”
Damian stiffened.
Tim waved it away and headed towards the kitchen. “I know his patterns.” He said flippantly. “He stays in the sewers. Something about the actual Gotham caves icks him out. But even when he does get there, he’s pretty predictable, and I’ve got the systems memorized. I can get out before he’d figure out I’m there.”
Damian glared at his back, severely doubting his self-survival skills.
Tim just kept on track, moving to the fridge and getting out what looked to be a gallon of juice. “Want some?” He asked. “I know you like grapefruit best, but I have less sweet lemonade, if that works.”
Damian blinked. “How do you—” He stopped. Of course he knew. Even if this wasn’t his Timothy, this was a Timothy, and he knew much more about the Waynes than any typical person ought to. “Very well,” He said. “I suppose I could try it. I do like the less sweet version more.”
Tim smiled brightly. “It’s more common in Nanda Parbat right?” He chattered. “Though I think it’s called sikanjibeen or nimbu pani. I read there are other spices in those versions like black salt, but I don’t have any, so I didn’t add it for now.”
Damian grunted, slightly warm. “... It’s fine,” He muttered. “This is fine as well.”
For a moment, there was silence. Then Tim cleared his throat. “What help did you need from me?” He asked. “If you know everything I know—”
“I don’t know everything you know,” Damian corrected. “I know—” He sighed. “Let me be frank, Drake,” He said formally, and the air became charged as both of them put down their glasses and stared at each other, shoulders tense. “Something has changed, and you are at the center of it. And if I cannot understand what it is, I will not be able to rest easy. So what do you know?”
“Um,” Tim said, frowning. “Sorry?” He said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What changed?”
“The timeline!”
“Holy—” Tim gasped. “The timeline? Did you learn about that from the Flash? Wait, why am I at the center of it? What did I do?” His mouth dropped open. “Was it my time travel device? Did it actually work? I didn’t think it would! It didn’t actually work in this timeline, and why would I have made it in another timeline? This one is bad—”
“You made a time travel contraption?” Damian demanded. “No, that is not relevant. And I was not informed by the Flash. The reason I am aware of this is because—” He grimaced. “It is because this reality is far too different from the one I am used to.”
Tim bit the inside of his cheek. “Wait, then couldn’t it be that you’re in a different dimension?”
Damian stopped. He… hadn’t thought about that. Considering he had found himself precisely in the place and position of the Damian of this world, accepted by the Richard and Jason of this world, he had assumed… but no, Tim’s words had a modicum of sense as well. “Perhaps,” He admitted grudgingly. “As I’ve said, I am not sure. What I do know is that it revolves around you.”
“Why?”
“Because in my reality, you’re—” my brother. But for some reason, Damian couldn’t say it. It was, maybe, the same little voice in his head which demanded he stay in this world, which gloated that this was everything he had ever wanted.
He swallowed, something deep in his heart shrivelling up and screeching.
“I’m what?” Tim asked.
“You’re part of the Bats,” Damian compromised, staring at him intensely, wondering if he would figure it out, wondering if he could question him for not calling him family.
But Tim simply squeaked in shock. “What?!” He shrieked.
Damian’s lips twitched involuntarily. “Red Robin,” He said. “You were Robin 3 before that. After—” He only hesitated a microsecond. “After Jason died, Father became forlorn. You took the mantle of Robin to help him survive until I could arrive.”
“Wait, Jason died?” Tim’s voice was hoarse. “That’s not— no, that’s not possible. Jason can’t—” He closed his eyes. “Def— definitely sounds like a different world,” He said slowly, his voice still wobbly. “Totally can’t imagine. Wouldn’t wanna be in that world.”
Damian frowned in confusion. “Excuse me?”
Tim pursed his lips and opened his eyes. “I think you should check out Constantine,” He continued, as if he hadn’t heard what Damian had said, even as his eyes shone. “He’s dealt with dimensions before, and I know where he is right now. He owes me one, too. And if he can’t—”
But Damian still glared. “That is my world you’re disparaging!” He snapped, because however flawed it may it, it was still his world.
Tim finally met his eyes. “And Jason is dead in it,” He said quietly. “I don’t want to be a superhero if that’s what it takes, Damian.”
Damian’s eyes flared.
Tim shifted awkwardly and took a huge gulp of juice.
“Jason…” Damian cleared his throat. “Jason came back to life.”
Tim sputtered. “I’m sorry. What?!”
Damian scowled. “Can you stop being so disgusting?”
“Can you stop being so shocking? What do you mean he’s alive? You just said he died!”
“Well, he came back. Mother took him to the Lazarus pits, and he returned and—” Damian stopped, wondering how he was supposed to explain what came next.
Fortunately, it looked like he didn’t need to. “Oh,” Tim said. “Oh. That— that’s, uh, good, I guess.” He sighed.
Damian scowled again. “I suppose we may as well turn to other things if you are going to react like this to all of this. How do you know John Constantine, and why does he owe you if are not part of the hero industry in this world?”
“Ah,” Tim said. “That’s a long story.”
Damian gestured around. “I have time,” He said. “Speak.”
Tim snorted.