Don't own any part of the DCU.

Just Bad Luck

"I'm beginning to think that Damian and I should stop trying to work together," were the first words to pass Tim's lips as he woke up to find himself propped up on a wall in Gotham, Red Robin outfit not as torn up as he had feared it would be.

Truly, Tim was willing to give the child a chance, but he would appreciate if in return Damian would stop trying to sabotage him every chance he gets. With a small grunt, the teen got to his feet and began to try and place himself. He glanced out of the alleyway, found a street sign, and nodded. Okay, he was still in Gotham, that was reassuring. Near one of the less used areas of Crime Alley, and the desire to curse Damian out increased even further. Less used or not, the brat could have gotten him killed by dumping Tim's body here.

He next took inventory, sighing in relief that he still had all of his equipment on hand and undamaged. A quick running jump and wall run had him perched on one of the buildings that had been hiding him. He looked at the area and his unease grew.

It had been hard to tell the time in the alleyway with the smog that ever covered the Gotham skyline but now he had a clear view of the area and a better approximation of the time. And the time appeared to be around 8 PM. What the hell.

Has he been out for over twenty hours? Why hadn't anyone looked for him? As he wracked his brain over these questions, he thought he saw a flash of a memory but couldn't quite place it. Okay, so it looks like he might have lost his most recent memories and with them the reason he was left in an alley for over twenty hours.

Fantastic.

Tim resigned himself to the youngest Robin's scorn and taunting as he began to move toward the Cave. Maybe Dick will pity him and tell him what the hell happened and why they didn't look for him.

Three streets later however Tim's attention was grabbed as he came across a standard mugging. The guy with the gun looked particularly twitchy as he threatened the family. If Tim demanded he leave them be the guy might pull the trigger out of sheer nerves. With a small sigh Tim threw a Red Robin disk at the gun, sending it flying out of the man's hand. Before he could react Tim was there sweeping the mugger's legs out from underneath him. He let the guy have a moment to see the glowering cowl of the Red Robin before he knocked him out and zip tied his hands together.

Now that the man was safely neutralized Tim turned to look at the family, ignoring the strange wave of déjà vu that washed over him as he took in their surprised faces. "Are you all alright?" He asked gently, looking away briefly to bag the gun before returning his gaze to them.

The man responded first. "I...yes. We're fine, thank you. Um...who exactly are you?" He looked nervous to be asking, as if afraid Tim would respond poorly to the question. And that. That made absolutely no sense. New to Gotham perhaps?

No. Even when they were new to Gotham, people were aware of the Batman and have some cursory idea of the birds that patrol alongside him. Eyes narrowing beneath his cowl Tim gave them a sheepish smile to try and calm them down. The boy and woman relaxed a little as he'd hoped but the man remain wary. "Don't really have a name yet," Tim said lightly, lying through his teeth as only a Bat could. He thought briefly of various birds with his coloration. "I've been considering Shrike, but it's still in the air."

The man nodded hesitantly, but seemed willing to believe him. "I see. Thank you...Shrike, for saving me and my family. My name is Thomas Wayne, and this is my wife Martha and my son Bruce."

Tim thinks Thomas might have said more but it was lost as a roaring filled his ears and a feeling as if the world itself were ending uncurled in his stomach.

Oh.

Fuck.

Tim wondered if this was karma getting back at him for when he survived bleeding out with only a lost spleen during his quest to save Bruce when the man was lost in time as he stood next to ten year old Bruce while the boy's most definitely alive parents called the police on the mugger, Tim holding out his cape to protect the child from the rain that had started up. Tiny Bruce gave him a grateful look and shifted a little closer, small hand grabbing at the end of Tim's Red Robin – now potentially Shrike – tunic and Tim felt a piece of his soul shrivel up.

Well, good news first: Tim didn't immediately die upon saving Martha and Thomas Wayne, implying he was either not in his own world's timeline as Bruce had been or, upon saving them – or, you know, running around in his outfit – a new universe branched off of his own and that was where he was now.

Bad news next: Tim was in the past, and now everything he knew literally meant nothing because he saved Bruce fucking Wayne's parents. Also, there was no Cave, no family, no friends, and he was stuck with nothing but what he had on him.

Honestly, the only stuff he had on him for the "lost in time" scenario were a few gold rings and a hundred and fifty dollars in cash.

They didn't expect the "lost in time" scenario to happen as often as it does, apparently.

As the two stood there Tim began to make some plans. He needed some clothes first, but a trip to a thrift store sans cape and cowl should be enough to only garner mildly curious looks before being dismissed as a cosplayer of some sort. The cash he had on hand should be more than enough to get two sets of clothing there and a backpack. Next would be falsifying some documents until he could weasel a real driver's license for himself.

He'd also need a new identity, Tim realized with a wince. Timothy Jackson Drake wasn't born yet, but the Drakes wouldn't appreciate a person popping out of the woodwork claiming to be a family member. Or perhaps they would; the Drakes were never good at keeping up with where family was located, and he knew enough of his family's genealogy to make himself a distant relative to the Gotham Drakes. From there the Drakes would help a down on their luck distant relative get back on their feet, and he will live comfortably enough to figure out what to do from there.

But should he go with Timothy still? It's a common enough name, but would it cause the alternate version of him to be given a different name? If not, how would people distinguish which Tim they were talking to? He could enter and maintain a different persona relatively easily, especially one where all he had to really keep track of was a new name and altered history rather than personality, but until he was sent back to his own world, or forever should that not come to pass? He could live with a similar sounding or similar meaning name...

Plan somewhat formed, Tim looked down as he registered a tug on his tunic and watched as Bruce seemed to shuffle his feet a little before turning to him. "I wanted to thank you for saving us," the boy mumbled, staring at the emblem on Tim's chest. "If you hadn't..."

"You're quite welcome," Tim said solemnly, the arm with the outstretched cape in hand moving and pulling Bruce a little closer in an attempt to comfort him. "I would however recommend that you and your parents not walk around in Crime Alley dressed as lavishly should you need to do so again; I may not be there next time."

Bruce nodded, hand tightening before his other arm came up and wrapped around him in an awkward hug that made Tim tense in surprise before he let go and returned to his mother. Once there he began looking at his feet, only stopping to glance at Tim. The teen really hoped that this wasn't the hero-worship he thought it was. That would just be too strange for Tim's poor mind to bear.

With the police on their way Tim bid them all a goodbye and fired his grappling gun, disappearing into the evening.

It took three weeks of careful movement and planning before Timothy Jackson Drake was sitting in his new apartment with a new bank account under the name of Stephen Alvin Drake, second cousin once removed from the youngest Drake, the computer gauntlet he'd thankfully stowed in his equipment and running in his hands. Tim – Stephen – had never been more grateful for distractedly throwing his computer gauntlet in with the rest of his stuff when the Demon Brat started making a fuss about how they hadn't left for patrol yet than he was right then. Looking at the low-tech surrounding him made him want to cry and he never thought he'd hate the past more than he did right then.

To be fair he had no idea why the gauntlet was working when wireless was barely a thing from what he's seen, but if he had to guess it was likely due to the ridiculous amounts of alien tech he'd upgraded it with to make it compatible with as many vehicles and devices as possible.

(He knew that his gauntlet was a primary source frustration for the other Bats as they could never get into the thing. The password was an encrypted answer to a Tamaranean riddle Kori once told him when she had been visiting Jason, and it continued to stump his family for quite some time.)

The Drakes had asked him if he needed anything beyond the amount they'd put in his bank account and first month of apartment rent but he'd waved them off with a smile, saying he could take it from there. While he could continue to take advantage of their generosity, Tim – Stephen, his name was Stephen now dammit – didn't want to be even more in their debt than he already was. Currently he had buffered the bank account with some money he'd siphoned from…less than scrupulous people that he felt no particular sympathy toward. He then sent enough evidence to have those same people arrested immediately to the GCPD as an anonymous tip, so he should be fairly secure with his new acquisitions now.

In those three weeks Stephen had metaphorically thrown his hands in the air and given up on being subtle about his existence to other Gothamites. Gotham wasn't too bad off currently, but she would always need a vigilante to keep watch over her and, with Bruce probably never becoming Batman and all the shit that would follow that particular butterfly, that duty fell to Stephen. So Shrike was seen – never on camera, he won't make his original Bruce facepalm too badly, but everything else was free game – cape fluttering and cowl staring down from his perch on the gargoyles (suck it, Jason, at least he was skinny enough that slipping off of those was never an issue).

Honestly, Gotham seemed to respond positively to Shrike. Considering that the main Rogues were either too young or not villains yet, all Stephen had to deal with were the common Gotham scum – gangs, drug runners, rapists, murderers, and human traffickers being the primary offenders – and they were all rather intimidated by a man who could kick their ass while dressed up in tights and a cape. From what Stephen's seen from the news, crime was at a low from the top guns, who were too freaked out to make big waves while the little guys still thought Shrike was just some new boogeyman invented to try and scare them. And the police were currently sticking their heads in the sand and pretending he didn't exist, which worked fine for Stephen so long as they picked up the perps he caught and left zip tied on the ground for them.

And while he didn't have the extended network of information that Oracle did – he's literally been in the city for less than a month, and the level of advancement in technology made him want to stab something repeatedly, so that was forgivable – Stephen was still an accomplished hacker and by the end of week two had all of the computers from the major gangs he hadn't wiped off the map constantly updating him with changes in information.

During that time, once he'd confirmed that no one from his universe had appeared as well to take him home, he also paid for all of the legal documentation he could need and was reasonable to have in Gotham – considering that hospitals and universities lost records every few years due to something or another, that honestly wasn't a lot of documents. Just enough to be the same as every Gothamite – a paper birth certificate, a social security card as well as that number hacked by yours truly into the system, and the physical copy of a degree from a school that was burned to the ground three months ago, which would explain his lack of a job and money to any unreasonably nosy employer. And, for security reasons, Stephen also made sure to wipe his info from the guy's databases and point those transactions to another one of his clients, just in case. Now he could get a legitimate nine-to-five and have more of an alibi for any questions regarding money in his account.

Now to get a job and try and figure out what the hell to do from there.

Well, I hope you guys like this. It's all going to be sketchy and vague at parts, as I don't know as much about the comics as I wish I did. I'm trying to work on that, but it's slow going.

Thanks for reading and please review.