Disclaimer: I do not own anything...
So I have a lot to upload this weekend but this is the only one I can put up right now cause I don't have the other three with me at the moments.
Anyways, here's an idea that I've been working on for a while.
Some notes: It basically occurs in prereboot time but five years into the future. Damian is 15 while Tim would have been 22. The italics denote flashbacks, memories, and/ or dreams.
Enjoy! And tell me what you think!
Chapter 1: Hidden
It had been over three months since Tim Drake-Wayne had been killed. For a month, heroes from all of the world and from every team scoured the Earth to find a way to save him from this end. And in those three months, the realization slowly hit each and every person who had ever been close to him. There was no way to avoid it. He was gone. Tim had been killed.
His murderer had been elusive, managing to escape even the furious Batman. He had called himself the Dark Robin and his mission had been to take out the third Robin. But after nearly a year of battling Tim, the Dark Robin just disappeared and no one saw or heard of him again. Red Hood had gone off to find him, using his crime lord and criminal connections to find out what had happened to him. He had returned a month later with news that the villain had vanished in all shape and from the surface of the Earth.
Now after those three months of dread and the unknown, Batman had declared that the hunt for the villain was to be ceased and for the funeral to finally take place. It was a chilly, gray day that threatened to rain at any moment –fitting of the overall mood that hung over the civilian-dressed heroes who mourned for the loss of their friend.
Arriving at the funeral with his older brother who had been quiet on the drive here, Damian looked out at the crowd, recognizing the heroes present with some difficulty due to the lack of colorful costumes. Feeling a drop on his cheek, Damian looked up at the sky, wondering if it was really going to rain or if was going to continue to taunt them for the rest of the ceremony which had yet to begin. He glanced over to where his step mother was being comforted by Veronica Vreeland who wore a comforting but forced smile.
At his adopted mother's side stood Colin Wilks, Damian's first real friend. The red head was watching his adopted mother with a concerned look on his face. Out of instinct, he turned his head slightly and saw Damian watching him. Only then, he tore himself away from his mother's side and approached the dark haired teen. "Hey."
"Don't ask me how I'm holding up," Damian warned him, his voice had a dangerous tone to it. The redhead nodded solemnly, but found himself still tempted to ask. Of course, his friend knew him well so he shot him another warning glare and Colin kept his mouth shut.
Eying his friend for a few more seconds, just to make sure he got the message and wasn't going to ask that vile question, Damian then began to scan the crowd again. This time his eyes landed on where his other friend was standing with his family. He was gazing on as his father put his hands on his mentor's shoulder. Kyle Knight turned around to see Damian watching him. He managed a small, forced smile before turning back to where Jack was murmuring supportive bits into Courtney's ear.
Turning back to Colin, Damian spoke softly, "This whole thing is a drag. And a waste of my time."
His best friend gave him a look, "Damian, that's not nice."
"But you know what was?" Damian was smirking as he leaned forward and spoke in a hushed whisper to his best friend, "Drake dying."
Colin shot him a glare before and shaking his head. He headed back to where his mother was comforting Diana, leaving Damian alone to mull around in his thoughts. The teen moved towards the back of the group, towards the lonely tree where he settled on the ground. He had managed to drive off Colin so that he didn't have to act like he was upset.
Now from his perch, Damian watched as Dick Grayson made his way to the front of the crowd.
Dick cleared his throat as he glanced into the faces of all the people who mourned for the loss of his little brother. He held back tears, fighting to stay strong for his family and for everyone there. Forcing a smile onto his face, he began, "We're gathered here because of a death of one of our own. Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne was one of the best. Some say that he was surpassing Bruce in terms of being the best detective."
"He already did!" The declaration from Tim's best friend caused Dick to genuinely smile back at Conner Kent who was smirking. Next to him, Kara smiled softly. A small chuckle rippled through the crowd.
"Fine, and some will say that he already surpassed him," Dick conceded, continuing. "He was a detective, a friend," he scanned the crowd: Conner now had a sad, lost expression on his face, Courtney had a brave one that was an obvious shield to how broken she actually was, Bart looked incredibly fragile –like even the slightest touch would shatter him, and Cassie's face held a mixture of anger and desperation. "He was a brother," Dick felt his heart ache as he saw his own family. Barbara had her arms around Cass and Stephanie, the latter whom was crying. Diana was resting her head on Bruce's shoulder, both had pain in their eyes. Damian was sitting a little off from the crowd, with unreadable expression on his face. The only one missing was Jason.
"But above all else, he was a fighter," Dick continued, his voice cracking. "He fought to keep us safe. To make sure that none of his friends had to die again. He sacrificed himself to protect us. Therefore, I propose that we don't mourn for him. Instead, we celebrate him. Because he wouldn't want us wallowing in self-pity and sorrow –he saw enough deaths to know that that's not what he wanted people to do when his time came."
"So I'm going to spend the next few days crying. Who isn't?" Dick felt a tear down run his cheek, "But I'm going to remember all the good times that I had with Tim, ignore my regrets because they won't make anything better. I'll miss my little brother, but I know that I have to accept it and gradually move on."
Damian took a deep breath, hanging onto each word. Somehow, it seemed wrong to him. They didn't resonate with him as it did the others who were trembling and crying. He just felt out of place in this whole thing. And for some reason, he just wanted to stand up and yell, "Get over it, he's dead, so what," which he accidently murmured out loud –but fortunately, not loud enough for the crowd to hear.
"If you think that, then why the hell are you here?" Damian turned to see Jason leaning against the tree behind him. He had been listening to Dick's spiel and hadn't been aware when the older young man approached him. There was no anger in Jason's voice. Only a smug knowing tone.
"Shut up, Todd," Damian snarled, "And for you information, Grayson made me come."
"Uh-huh," Jason rolled his eyes, unconvinced.
"I don't need this, I'm going home," Damian stood up and stormed away, "Anything is better than this sob fest."
When Damian finally reached the mansion, it felt more empty than usual. He headed to his room to find Titus who had been asleep in there when he had left earlier. But as he passed Tim's door, he stopped briefly and glanced at it. Then on impulse, he did the unexpected: he opened it and slipped in, closing the door behind him.
Damian took a deep breath as he walked around. He didn't know exactly what had drawn him in here or what he was doing. He just knew that he couldn't bring himself to leave just yet. It was like there was something left for him to do or something that called out to him. Sighing, Damian sat on the bed, but it felt weird so he settled on the ground, deep in thought as he stared emptily at the bed.
Knitting his eyebrows together, Damian couldn't help but let one particular memory of Tim take over his mind. It hadn't been any different from their past encounters but there was something more to it. It happened a few months before Tim had been killed. Dick had always believed that with time, Damian's relationship with Tim would have gotten better. Damian had always doubted that it would ever happen. But after that day, something changed.
Bruce gave his son a displeased look, "I don't care if he provoked you, Damian. You cannot stab your brother!" The fourteen year old boy in front of him made a face and crossed his arms over his chest.
"He's not my brother," Damian spat spitefully.
"Yes," Bruce narrowed his eyes, "He is. And you will show him respect. And I'm taking your knives. You shouldn't even have these!" He gestured to the blades on the table. Damian's eyes widened as he became desperate to get himself out of this punishment.
"That's not fair! How come I'm the one who's being punished!" Damian demanded, pissed as he stomped his foot on the ground. "You always favor Drake! He's not even your real son! I'm your son!"
"You're both my sons," Bruce growled, "Now go to your room and think of some way to apologize to Tim for what you've done!"
"I'm not apologizing!" Damian yelled before storming off to his room. Steaming with anger, the only thing that kept him relatively calm was the fact that he had hidden a few extra knives in his room and his father did not know about them. Otherwise, he would have used to the nearest blunt object to kill Tim for getting him in trouble since Bruce currently had all his sharp ones.
When Damian opened the door to his room, he was surprised to see Tim lounging on his bed. His older brother turned his head slightly to the door to see his younger brother scowling at him. Just as he was about to open his mouth to order his brother out, Damian noticed that Tim was throwing something up and down in his right hand. He immediately realized that it was a knife and not just any knife, but one of the ones that he had hidden away in his room.
Glaring at the older hero, Damian let out a growl, "What do you want, Drake? An apology?"
Sitting up, Tim continued to throw the knife up and down, catching it by the hilt with ease. He glanced briefly at his younger brother before saying lightly, "You know you should really hide these better. You never know who will find them." Damian moved forward, knowing well that Tim had the upper hand and he didn't like it one bit. He attempted to grab the knife while it was in the air but wasn't able to move fast enough as Tim turned away from him. Now, Tim replaced the sheath of the knife and began to twirl it around his thumb.
"Chill, demon spawn," Tim ordered, a smirk playing on his lips. "I'll give it back."
"If this was some kind of revenge for stabbing you this morning…" Damian began but Tim cut him off.
"No, just bored," Tim shrugged, eyeing his bandaged arm out of the corner of his eye. Of course, it still hurt like hell but he had gotten used to such pain a long time ago so he could easily ignore it as long as there was a distraction. "And since you got me banned from patrol tonight, you're going to have to deal with being my entertainment."
"Like hell," Damian grumbled stubbornly.
"Such bad language for such a small child," Tim snickered.
"Shut. Up. And. Get. Out," Damian ordered through gritted teeth. What he really wanted to do was beat his older brother senseless for annoying him. But then his father would do something in retaliation –maybe even taken the Robin costume from him.
A smirk playing on his lips, Tim shrugged his shoulders, "I can leave. But if I leave, I'm telling Bruce all about your extra knives. I know where they all are, after all."
Holding strong, Damian scoffed, "You're bluffing. So you found one, there's no way that you found every single one that I hid."
"If you really think that I'm bluffing, why don't you check your first drawer?" Tim inquired lightly.
Narrowing his eyes, trying to decide if this was a trap of some kind or Tim's actual revenge, Damian suspiciously moved towards the drawer, opening it slowly while Tim rolled his eyes at his younger brother. The fourteen year old was shocked to see that every single one of his secret blades were in the drawer. Taking a deep breath and composing himself, Damian turned to Tim with a hard look on his face. "What do you want, Drake?"
"I just want to hang out with my adorable little brother," Tim was grinning innocently as he moved to the door. "Now, put some clothes on, we're going out. I'm taking you to a museum." Tim stabbed the knife into the doorframe as he exited. He then poked his head back into the room, "By the way, it's cold in Opal City at this time of year, so bundle up!"
"Drake, I'm going to kill you," Damian yelled after his brother, hearing a faint laugh coming from outside his room as he grabbed his knife out of his doorframe and started to get ready.
Scowling at the memory, Damian got to his feet and stormed out of his brother's room, his fists balled in anger. He hated Tim Drake, and always did. Just because he died, it didn't mean that Damian's feelings for him were about to change anytime soon. They never truly were brothers. It didn't happen after six years of living in the same family. Anyways, ever since Damian came along, Tim began to spend less and less time with the family as time passed.
And Damian didn't care. In fact, he was glad that Tim was gone.
Damian trudged back into his room, angry and tired for having to deal with Tim for hours. He threw himself onto his bed. After Tim had dragged him to Opal to stare at some blonde girl who worked at the museum, Damian had been forced to tour the museum incognito while Tim creepily watched the blonde, overly perky curator. Now, Damian really wanted to take a knife and stab Tim with it. And he was seriously debating it.
A short knock on the door woke Damian from his thoughts. The ten year old turned to see that Tim was standing in the doorway. He shot him a glare, noticing that Tim was holding a drawer. "What, Drake? Haven't you tortured me enough already?"
Tim let out a chuckle as pushed his way past Damian and towards the bed. He set the drawer on the bed and started to move the nightstand away from the bed. "Close the door," he ordered. Hesitating, Damian didn't know why but he listened.
"What the hell are you doing?" Damian demanded as Tim slid on his back under the bed, taking the drawer with me. He heard the sound of a nail gun before Tim slid back out a few minutes later.
"Secret compartment under your bed, right where your nightstand comes in and covers," Tim informed him, a smug look on his face. "Believe me, it's the best hiding place from Bruce, Alfred, and especially Dick. Knock yourself out."
Tim took the nail gun and headed for the door while Damian moved towards the bed and leaned down to see his brother's handiwork. "Drake," he called you and the older boy turned around in the doorway. "Thanks," he added grudgingly.
Shrugging indifferently, Tim smirked, "Thank you for being my excuse. Hey, do you think that she'll go out with me?"
"No," Damian replied coldly, rolling his eyes.
Surprisingly, Tim chuckled, "You're probably right."
Damian's woke up from his dream with a start. He threw his covers back before heading straight to Tim's room as quietly as possible. He closed and locked the door behind him before sliding the nightstand away and getting under the bed. There he found just what he was looking for: a small box nailed to the bottom of the bed.