And now for something completely different. (Sorta.) This will make the most sense if you've seen the BTAS/Static Shock crossover eps "The Big Leagues", "Hard as Nails", and "Future Shock".
Also, while I'm aware the Teen Titans cartoon technically isn't considered part of DCAU canon, I based personalities on that version's characters since the show was airing concurrently and it's my primary exposure to the cast. ...I also know that Dick and Kory are an item in the comics, but since Tim is the one confirmed to have spent time with the Titans in the DCAU-verse, I figure they might've had a thing going on. ;O (Hey, if Damian can be paired with Raven in the new animated movies, then why not. *shot*)
Virgil checked and re-checked the address Richie had given him. …Not so much an "address" as a "location" marked on a map. Trying to navigate downtown Gotham was like a maze, especially when he was unfamiliar with all the street names. It might've been faster to go from above as Static, but he didn't want to cause a disturbance in a city that wasn't his own… Or to the person he was endeavoring to seek out. (He'd already made the mistake of alerting a whole district to the presence of another nonlocal… "celebrity" once.)
It also might've been easier to ask Bruce Wayne to show him around, but somehow he doubted the billionaire would agree to that – especially once he learned the trip's purpose.
When he finally arrived at what he assumed was his destination, he still wasn't sure whether he had the right place. It appeared more like an abandoned warehouse than a dwelling (honestly it reminded him of his own run-down "Gas Station of Solitude"). Approaching the building, he looked to the left of the front(?) door and saw an intercom buzzer.
He pressed the button.
"Hello?"
Dead silence.
"Er, is anybody home?"
He took a stab again, hopeful. Another moment of nonresponse passed before he heard a crackle.
"…What do you want?"
The message was curt, cutting straight to business. Resemblance to a certain grim, gruff crusader was uncanny, but he could tell the voice and tone were definitely different; a subtle squeak of puberty palpable in its pitch. …Still, in a way it confirmed his suspicions that he was indeed at the correct site.
"Uh, you may not remember me, but we met a few times… Through Mr. Wayne."
There was a discreet whir of machinery, and that's when he noticed the tiny bead of a camera scanner focusing in. He beamed uneasily, suddenly feeling as self-conscious and creeped out as whenever he caught Backpack's sensor staring at him for some reason. He told Richie to quit it, but he'd always reply it was just performing a "routine analysis".
A pause. He heard a mild exhale of exasperation on the other end.
"Just a sec. I'll be right down."
He waited, and within a couple minutes he heard the click of locks sliding on the other side. Counting, the number surprised him. Just how strong was the security here?
At last, the entrance cracked open, revealing a boy about his age, but still shorter by at least half a head. His hair was a little longer and wispier than their last encounter, but the rest of his body remained as thin and wiry as Virgil remembered. …No, he'd almost certainly lost some weight. (Maybe Gear could stand to learn a thing or two from him, Virgil thought offhandedly.)
He'd never seen the other's eyes before – at least not without a domino mask – but now those dark irises (surrounded by even darker rimmed circles, to the point he might as well be wearing one) regarded him with an utterly dull expression.
"Er, hi. It's Tim, right? You probably don't recognize me, but I'm-"
"Virgil Hawkins. Static. I know."
The visitor startled, thrown by this curveball.
"Did Batman tell you?"
"What makes you think I couldn't figure it out on my own? He did train me after all." Tim rolled his eyes a little. "Anyway, you should come in before someone overhears us."
It wasn't an invitation, more like a warning. Still, he moved aside to allow access.
"Oh, um, right. Thanks."
Virgil stepped inside, taking in the drab interior, expansive yet bare except for a few boxes. This undeniably used to be some sort of storage facility.
"So how'd you find me?"
One by one, Tim carefully bolted each latch again. …Considering Gotham's level of advanced criminal activity, it seemed like the religious act was more for his own peace of mind than any actual measure of effectiveness.
"Ah, about that… Gear helped me track you down. …I had to give up Batman's secret identity in exchange though."
"Guess that makes two of us then."
Virgil sweated as Tim revolved around, sensing he had already gotten off on the wrong foot. For the time being, he struggled clumsily to divert the subject.
"Er, so, do you really live here now? I mean, it's kinda empty, isn't it? N- not that it's a bad thing!"
Tim simply pointed towards a wire stairwell.
"Upstairs. There's a loft."
"Oh, r- right! Of course!"
Virgil laughed nervously and followed as Tim led the way. Real smooth, V.
The second floor was decidedly more cozy, still sparse but strewn with sufficient furniture and appliances for a single occupant. A warm yet militaristic atmosphere. In terms of design, the décor exuded an East Asian theme. Virgil whistled at the sight of a foreign sword rack hanging on the wall, right next to a long panel sporting an exotic dragon motif.
"Sweet digs. You collect those yourself?"
"The building and pretty much everything in it belong to Nightwing. I'm just renting the space temporarily."
Richie had mentioned the property was previously purchased and still registered ownership under a name of "Richard Grayson", which made pinpointing the current tenant a lot harder.
"Nightwing?"
"He operates solely in Blüdhaven now. He used to be Robin – the previous one."
"Oh, right. I knew that. …Wait, there's more than one of you?"
Virgil was genuinely shocked by this revelation, like his globe had just been knocked off its axis.
"Was. He was the first, I was just a replacement. …God willing, there won't be a third."
Virgil shifted uncomfortably, but there was really no use beating around the bush.
"I heard. …About what happened."
Tim merely shrugged, surveying the red skyline through a wall-length row of rectangular windows. "I expected that's why you came. How much do you know?"
"Just bits and pieces." A lot of it was rumor really, until recently. What he did manage to gather was that: "A year ago, you were captured by the Joker, and for a month he…"
"Held me captive and tortured me into insanity? That about sums it up."
"Y- yeah."
Virgil finished lamely.
"So who told you?"
"I learned the truth mostly from the Titans. I finally met them; Batman said I would someday."
"Figures." It had to have either been them or Superman. Usually it was the latter; Man of fucking Steel may possess an iron will on the battlefield, but apparently couldn't keep his own metal trap shut when it came to the Watchtower's watercoolers. While he hadn't any proof, Tim suspected he was the one who let slip a statement to the League in lieu of Batman, and from there whispered word of mouth circulated like wildfire, trickling down through the fabled mill until it filtered into numerous false accounts.
Even if his other once overly optimistic idol – dedicated to journalistic integrity as much as justice – meant well by fielding questions and candidly clarifying (if not quite satisfying) curious club associates' misconceptions on his behalf, Tim couldn't stand the amount of patronizing pity that poured in initially from strangers. Fussing bystanders who kept butting in to offer support, even though they couldn't begin to fathom the scope of the situation. The disruptions were often more of a hindrance to his "recovery"; all the letters of sympathy he received simply served as sore reminders of what he could've – should've – been. Back then he could barely even concentrate enough to read the stacks, and was more tempted to tear them up on the spot. (Per request, Alfred did him a favor by burning/throwing out all the cards and gifts Flash regularly stopped by to deliver. After enough instances of having a grandfather clock slammed spitefully in his face, he gave up trying to convince Batman to converse – if not confide – with Wonder Woman as well.)
Tim supposed he should be thankful at least such a scoop wasn't publicized amongst general citizens by publishing an article in a particular planetary paper… To that end, knowing a renowned reporter affiliated with one of the country's most prominent and popular newsprint outlets was a benefit, and Mr. Wayne took full advantage of their close "acquaintance". The last thing any of them wanted was gossip columns spreading outside Gotham. Broadsheet bulletins were kept brief, and the combined efforts of correspondent Clark Kent and Commissioner Gordon helped keep the media vultures and investigative hounds at bay. (Although the aloof and antisocial Dark Knight always denied all interviews anyway, as he did when Dick left the sidekick role to embark on a journey of self-discovery, before returning under a new persona. Their mutual ex-boss's skills at dodging and deflecting went unparalleled, applying to both cameras and combat.)
This didn't stop the regular penny press from wild conjecture on reasons for the latest Robin's mysterious departure from crimefighting, or Gotham's greatest hero resigning from the Justice League after practically progressing to full-time (as well as worst villain retreating from the public eye), but eventually speculative steam petered out. While the occasional crackpot conspiracy theory still cropped up in hack editorials and cheap tabloids here and there, by now both the Boy Wonder's and Clown Prince's absences had faded into obscurity. In fact, the former's disappearance was frankly overshadowed by the latter's notorious legend – barely registered as an overall blip on society's radar – and he intended to keep it that way.
…There were still some personal loose ends to confront though, like this one, who was rubbing the back of his neck, trying unsuccessfully to broach the icy bridge between them. Grace and tact he had not.
"I know it's kinda late, but I just wanted to say…"
"What? That you're sorry? For something that has nothing to do with you?"
Tim rotated and flicked the other teen a tired – almost accusatory – look, more than telling of all the times he's gone through this routine before.
"N- no! I was just in the neighborhood and thought, maybe, we could, you know? Hang out?"
"You're a really terrible liar."
Virgil winced, wanting to kick himself if he could. This wasn't going well at all.
"That's not the only reason I'm here… Or rather, I didn't come here just for my sake. The Titans, they're worried about you too. Starfire especially. Claimed Batman wouldn't let them see you." For "their own good," apparently. "…And now he's stopped communicating with them entirely. They've kept trying to get in touch with you repeatedly since then, but you don't respond."
There was a rather visible reaction when he brought up the alien. Tim's face softened for a second, wistful. Then it hardened again.
"I'm not a member anymore. You, me, them – we've got nothing in common besides the cape. And I've hung that up for good."
"Seriously? I mean, not that I blame you, but…"
Tim gave a wry smile.
"You said it yourself once, didn't you? When you traveled to the future, and found out Robin was a 'civilian' in that time. I didn't believe you back then… Or think that it'd happen this soon. But I guess it's fate, huh?" He sighed. "It must be real nice, knowing you've got a long bright prospect ahead of you. You must feel so proud and secure of yourself, Mr. To-be-one-of-World's-Greatest-Heroes."
"Hey, it's not like that. There's no guarantee that will really happen, things can change. You can take control of your own destiny." (Even if – as he knew from his own experience with Timezone – you can't alter the past.)"It doesn't mean you have to just give up."
Tim shook his head.
"I'm not going back to that life."
"Okay, fair enough. No one's forcing that on you, but you don't have to completely shut others out from it either. They're your friends, aren't they?"
"Easy for someone like you to say."
"…And what's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean birds of a feather should stick together. Or in this case, should I say 'Bang Babies'?"
Virgil clenched his fists, growing irritated against his will.
"What are you getting at?"
Tim's grin darkened to a wicked smirk. "Your pal Gear… His real name's Richie Foley, right? He wasn't always the brains of the operation, was he? You were a solo act long before he became your genius sidekick – oh, my bad, 'partner'."
Virgil growled. "Don't you bring Richie into this."
"Why not? Because he's your 'best friend'? That's right, you were always school mates – buddies – weren't you. I did my own research on you two. …I wonder though, how he really felt about you developing super abilities and flaunting heroics in his face all the time. He just happened to catch a lucky break by suddenly sprouting mutant gray matter, so you let him tag along – sorry, 'join' you." He chuckled, raising a pointer to his head like a gun. "His mind got smarter, while mine got messed up. Ironic, eh?"
Virgil couldn't contain himself anymore. He lunged forward, sparks flying as he fiercely grabbed the boy's collar.
"You don't know anything about me and Rich. Hell, he's the one who suggested I become a superhero in the first place." He glared angrily at his opponent, charging voltage as a reflex to boiling aggression. "Besides, where do you get off acting all high and mighty, huh? I don't know why I even bothered coming if this is how you treat folks who are trying to help you. You'd think a little time with Joker would've taught you to loosen up a little, but instead all I see is you've become a brat."
As soon as he said it he immediately regretted crossing the line. Tim bit his lip and began shaking, buckling at the combination of harsh words and energy current. He pushed away, breathing heavily.
Ashamed, Virgil reached out towards him in apology.
"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
"Don't touch me!"
The target recoiled, primal panic in his pupils. He backed up, sincerely begging to stay away.
"Don't. Don't come near me. Please."
Virgil halted, stunned by this abrupt change in behavior. He thought he hadn't given it that much juice, but the slightest stimulus seemed to make the kid jump.
They both remained stationary, stilted stagnancy clinging thickly to the air. Stifling. The awkward aura of stillness persisted until Tim finally spoke.
"You want to know what Joker did to me?"
He massaged the hairs on his arm, which were standing stiffly on end. Suddenly, Virgil started to understand why his host had been keeping such a far distance from him since his arrival, avoiding any direct contact.
"He strapped me to a table, and – electrocuted me. More times than I could keep track of. …Until I couldn't feel anything but pain, could barely even move a muscle." Tim cast him a bitter glance. "Can you even imagine what that's like? …You can't, can you? Your body would just absorb it all."
Virgil swallowed, not sure what to say. The hypothesis likely wasn't wrong. (Heck, he'd made a pun during their first meeting about giving Joker a "taste of his own medicine" when a joybuzzer failed to faze him. It hardly even tickled. Reflecting back, had he not made it in the sheer nick of time to rescue the two, both Batman and Robin would be…)
Tim's teeth tightened as he grit his jaw. "I'm not like you freaks. I never felt so damn helpless – humiliated – in my life. He pumped me so full of toxin I was totally numb and desensitized, made me spill everything. Then, after he obtained his precious information, he didn't even care. He was just toying with me the whole time. Guess what his real goal was? He dressed me up like a godamn clown and planned to make me kill Batman…" He leaned against the glass, giggling wretchedly between tears. "And the worst part is – I did it. Pulled the trigger. Shot Joker dead with his own spear-gun. Bet they didn't tell you that little detail, did they?"
They hadn't told him, no. He wasn't sure if they were even aware of that part. But he had to answer, assuage some of the damage inflicted.
"He deserved it, after what he did to you."
Tim looked down at his hands – the bloodied hands of a despicable murderer either way, in his opinion. Virgil thought about how a gun had taken away his mom, as well as both of Batman's parents. (At least his own Pops was still alive, thank God, and likely livid he was skipping out on chores again for this detour; if he only knew the full story he'd probably never let his son out of his room as Static again.) Now it had stolen yet another child's innocence, in a way he'd witnessed gang violence back in his community destroy many youths' lives. …Too many.
"What's even worse is that I still feel guilty about it." Tim choked on the confession. "How can I face Kory and the others like this? I failed being a leader. Being Robin. Being a hero. I was trained by the best, and yet it still wasn't enough…" Flexing fingers back and forth, he watched his palms tremble incessantly. "Hell, I can't even hold a friggin' Batarang straight anymore. I don't have special powers; I'm just some weak dumb mortal kid who doesn't belong."
"Batman's human too, you know."
Tim scoffed. "Him? He's hardly human. Whatever he is, it's beyond anyone's comprehension."
Virgil found himself unable to argue with that.
"Even so, no one's invulnerable. I can still be hurt in a lot of ways. Heck, the only reason I've probably survived this far is because I've had friends watching my back, metahuman or not. Companions I could always count on."
"You sound like some after-school special."
"I get that a lot. But the point I'm trying to make is… You've got people who care about you, who are waiting to hear from you. Don't you think you should at least give them a call? Even if it's just for closure."
Tim inhaled deeply, steadying himself.
"You really think they'd accept me after what I've done? That they'd even want to talk to me after all this time? When I've changed so much?"
"You don't know unless you try."
Tim said nothing, contemplating. Tentatively, Virgil strove again to offer him some confidence.
"For what it's worth, I still think you're a hero. I really admired you – heck, you were one of my biggest inspirations. Seeing someone even younger than me accomplish so much and give his all to help save others motivated me to work even harder. You've done a lot of good, man. Don't ever forget that."
Tim lowered his gaze (was he blushing?), before lifting it again.
"Thanks. …You're pretty impressive yourself. For an untrained rookie."
Despite tempering the compliment somewhat with minor contempt, he really did have respect for his rising contemporary. While he once privately took pride in outshining such an unpolished novice, watching the wannabe Watt-son stumble around without anyone to show him the ropes (and openly express envy for his own Sherlock Holmes), he was by no means a dim bulb, and his skills demonstrated genuine promise. …Maybe, if things had turned out differently – they could have been colleagues someday.
Fortunately, Virgil took the semi-insult in stride, mocking back:
"Well sorry I didn't have an expert mentor – let alone the world's greatest detective – to teach me."
"Trust me, it's not as fun as it sounds."
They both managed to forge partial smiles at the Bat's expense, defusing tension. Tim continued with a sheepish attempt to pay proper courtesy, aiming to make up for his prior rudeness.
"Sorry… for calling you a freak earlier. And for making those comments about your friend. I was just taking frustration out on you."
"Hey, it's cool, man. We both kinda lost it there."
"You must think I'm pretty pathetic."
"Not at all." Petty, maybe. Not that he could fault the adolescent much for it. "At any rate, you should apologize to the others. For making them concerned as well."
"…I will."
"Good. That's all I needed to hear."
Virgil turned to leave. Tim tailed along to the stairs, and addressed his name before he descended.
"Virgil."
"Yeah?"
"Thanks… for stopping by. I appreciate it."
"Hey, no problem. And listen, if you're ever in Dakota again, look me and Richie up. We could grab some pizza, maybe shoot some hoops or something. Whaddya say?"
He extended his knuckles, before realizing.
"Oh, right. Sorry, force of habit."
Before he could withdraw though, he felt a light bump connect, completing the fraternal gesture.
"Deal."
–
"…Kory?"
"Yeah. Yeah, it's really me."
"Hey, come on, don't cry now. It's not your fault. I wasn't deliberately trying to ignore you. Just… A lot of things happened, you know?"
"…You're right. That's no excuse. I'm sorry."
"So what's up?"
"No, I don't mean the ceiling- I mean, how's everyone?"
"Heh. Glad to hear Beast Boy's still an idiot."
"Me? I'm doing… Fine. Better than I was before."
"I'm okay now. Really."
"Mm."
"I missed you guys too."
And that's the last of the one-shots! Next up: A multi-chapter fic focusing on Tim's recovery and relationship with his future wife Stephanie. Get ready for waffles~