Notes: I posted this on Tumblr a couple days ago and figured I may as well post it here while I'm going through the (long and arduous) process of setting up a new profile and organizing my fic bookmarks. This is more like a series of interconnected drabbles than one cohesive fic, and I honestly just wrote it because one day the thought "Hey, Tim and Carrie should hang out" ran through my brain and wouldn't go away.
Damian's been Batman for nearly two years now, and it's still the weirdest thing Tim's ever experienced. (Okay, maybe not the weirdest. But it's up there.)
Tim has mostly retired from field work to be high-grade tech support and uses the name Oracle (Babs doesn't mind since she's busy running the GCPD). It wasn't necessarily his first choice of occupation, it's just how things fell after Bruce's death. (A real one, this time. They were sure about that.) Tim's the one with the relevant expertise and he's pretty much been voted 'least likely to put up with the current Batman's crap', both of which are prerequisites for the job. To be fair, Dick doesn't take crap from Damian either. Really, none of them do, because it's Damian, but Tim's good with computers which is why he's the one sitting at a desk being the voice inside Damian's head by night and co-running Batman, Inc. and Wayne Enterprises with him by day while everyone else is in New York or Hong Kong or Los Angeles or wherever Jason is this week.
Everyone had assumed Dick would become Batman again after Bruce died, so it surprised all of them when he all but forced eighteen year-old Damian into a Batman suit. Including Damian. Tim thought Dick had lost his mind, but now he has to admit that Damian is doing a good job. Privately, in his head, it's not like he's going to actually say that out loud or anything.
So he and Damian are stuck on a comm with each other every night, not to mention in a boardroom two days a week, which isn't as bad as you might think. They bicker, and tell each other to shut up a lot, but they get their jobs done. Tim chips in on the detective work, whether Damian asks him to or not, and Damian occasionally breaks into Tim's garage to mess with his car. It's an odd system, but it works for them.
About a week ago when he was on patrol, Damian ran into a teenage girl wearing a Robin costume that looked like it came from a party store. She obstinately declared that she could help him and Damian, being Damian, turned her down flat. Tim, meanwhile, laughed and started digging around in Gotham City high school registration lists for spunky bespectacled redheads. He found Caroline Kelley, age sixteen. Good grades, talented gymnast, and gutsy like you wouldn't believe if her habit of making demands of Batman is anything to go by. She's managed to track him down every night this week and Damian has insisted he doesn't need her each time.
On the sixth consecutive night of being hounded by his would-be sidekick, Damian ends up at Tim's apartment because of a knife wound on his back that he won't be able to attend to himself. Tim gets the medical kit without saying a word and utterly ignores Damian's protest against anesthetic before injecting him with it and stitching him up.
"Well?" Damian says when Tim's finished.
"Hmmm?" Tim says innocently while putting the med kit away.
Damian gives him the weird half-glare that's more like a mix of boredom and mild annoyance. "I'm sure you have something to say, Drake. This is must feel like a glimpse into your personal history."
Tim snorts because, yeah, he's been there, done that, got the domino mask, thanks. He tosses Damian the file he has on Caroline.
Damian looks it over. "You think I should allow her to become Robin," he states, rather than asks, when he's finished.
Tim nods, leaning back against his desk. "She's smart. She's brave. She wants to. And if you don't take her under your wing," he smirks as Damian scowls at he pun, "she's going to do it anyway. She was crazy enough to volunteer so she'll end up on the streets eventually. The least you can do is help her. And she'll probably be good for you." Tim doesn't go so far as to quote himself and say Batman needs a Robin, but it's implied.
Damian rolls his eyes at Tim's last sentence. "But do you think we can trust her?"
"I don't see a reason not to," Tim says. "She seems like a good kid."
Damian is silent for a minute. "If she's utterly incompetent, I'll blame you."
Tim huffs. "Of course you will."
When Damian leaves, Tim grabs the file to find Caroline's email address and types up a quick message.
284 North Riverside, rooftop. 11 PM. He'll say yes this time.
- Oracle/Robin III (Welcome to the club, we're all insane.)
Making sure Damian was on the rooftop to meet Caroline wasn't hard at all. That doesn't mean Damian's happy about it, but he'll deal.
"Why do you want to be Robin?" he asks the girl. Tim notices that his voice is softer than it usually is when he's out on patrol. Less Batman, more Damian. Good.
"Well, after this week I can tell you that it's not to enjoy your delightful company," she replies.
Damian smirks a little at that. (Tim can see him over the security camera feed he's watching.) "Fair enough. Really, why?"
"Batman hasn't had a partner in nearly two years, and most of the rest of Gotham's vigilante population relocated. The crime rate's going up little by little," Caroline says, crossing her arms. "Thought you could use the help."
"Why do you care in the first place?" Damian asks.
Caroline shuffles her feet. "…Batman saved my life. I was thirteen and out with a friend and we got mugged at gunpoint. He stopped them," she says. "But you wouldn't remember. Wasn't you."
Tim raises his eyebrows. It's true; three years ago Bruce was still alive and he was Batman. But it's rare for anyone to notice that Bruce and Damian aren't the same man, even if they get close enough to see clearly. Damian didn't change the uniform much and he's built the same way Bruce was.
"No, I'm not him," Damian says quietly. He doesn't speak for a minute. "Do you know who I am, then?" he asks.
"No," Caroline says hurriedly. "No idea. I didn't realize you were a different guy until I saw you up close this week. And listen - I know I probably sound crazy. But if he hadn't been there, I would have been shot. I'd probably be dead. But he was there, so I survived. What he did, that night? I want to do that."
Damian's breathing over the comm is even. Too even, the breathing of someone who is forcibly maintaining control because…he misses Bruce. They all do. It's only been two years, and it's hard and suddenly there's this girl in Damian's face wanting to help carry his father's legacy for all of the right reasons.
There's no way even he can say no to that.
"It's Caroline, isn't it?" he asks.
"Carrie," she corrects.
"Well, then," he says, holding out his hand for a handshake. "Carrie Kelley. Robin."
It's not spying.
Damian installed the cameras and microphones in the bunker himself, which was as close to giving Tim permission to access them as he's likely to ever get.
So it's not spying. It's…usage of available resources. Or something. Tim's just really, really curious to see how this is going to go.
"So where exactly are we?" Carrie asks as a still-cowled Damian leads her into the bunker.
"Directly under Wayne Tower," Damian says.
"Okay, that…makes sense," Carrie says. "What with you being funded by Wayne Enterprises, and everything."
Damian turns around to face her and surveys her for a moment. "I'm not just funded by WE," he says, removing the cowl. "I also own it."
(Tim nearly interjects "Co-own, Demon Brat." over the speakers, but restrains himself. He'll let Damian have his moment.)
Carrie's mouth falls open. "You're -" she breaks off, gesturing somewhat wildly at Damian. "You're Damian Wayne. I did not see that one coming," she finally says. "Wait but you're, like, twenty. How long have you been doing this?"
Damian takes a deep breath. "Almost two years. I was Robin for nearly eight years before that."
"Who was…no way. Don't tell me Bruce Wayne was Batman."
Damian nods, once, slowly. "Was," he says.
"And he…died," Carrie realizes, "two years ago. I remember. But it wasn't…it wasn't 'Bruce Wayne' that died, was it?"
"No," Damian says. "It was not. He was fatally wounded on patrol one night and died in our home the following morning."
"That's so anticlimactic," Carrie says before clapping a hand over her mouth. "Oh, sorry, that sounded bad. It's just -"
"It's all right," Damian says calmly. "He died defending Gotham, honorably and to his last breath. No dramatics were needed. Batman will never truly die."
"But he was your father. I'm sure that was…" she trails off, shrugging slightly.
"Yes," Damian says, "it was…difficult. It was also inevitable. To an extent, we were all prepared, as was he. He was never going to retire, much less grow old. It wasn't in his nature to give up on anything. Especially not anything he loved. Especially not this city. That's why I wear this," he lightly touches the bat symbol on his chest, "to honor that, for him."
Carrie looks at him for a moment before accepting his words and taking a deep breath.
"Why did you wear this?" she asks, pointing to the R patch on her costume.
"Because the perpetual nine year-old who designed the Robin uniform and asked me to wear it ten years ago does not understand the meaning of subtlety or stealth," Damian deadpans.
Tim smiles a little bit and turns off the feed.
They're going to be fine.
It's a Saturday two weeks later when Damian brings Carrie over to Tim's before he goes out on patrol. The two men both have short tempers because they're trying to crack a tough case and I cannot just hack the DOD on command, Damian, that's going to take time.
Tim is more than happy to finally meet Carrie because anyone who's put up with Damian for five hours of training every day for two weeks solid deserves a break. But he and Damian get distracted and start arguing over the amount of time in which Tim should be able to access highly encrypted government files. (Tim's been working on this all day. The U.S. government is paranoid and their security measures are extensive. He can do it, but it's going to be a while, and stop looking at me like that, Damian, I'd like to see you do any better.)
Carrie interrupts them after a few minutes from where she's looking at one of the computer screens. "Why don't you try to DBP a patch? It's a little sloppy, but since you have untraceable servers it might be worth a shot."
Damian blinks. Tim's jaw drops.
"You know computers?" Tim asks before Damian can try to slide in a comment on how a sixteen year-old girl appears to be better than him at hacking.
Carrie shrugs. "I had to learn something in school."
It's official, Tim really likes this girl. "Bye, Damian," he says, waving Damian out the door. "Go hit things, I have work to do and I'm commandeering your new sidekick to help me." Damian rolls his eyes before nodding to Carrie and walking out.
"I tried that," Tim says, turning back to Carrie, "and it didn't exactly work. Good idea though. What else have you got?"
"Probably a few things," she says, adjusting her glasses. "Why do you need to see DOD files in the first place?"
"We're working on taking down a weapons dealing ring. We think they might have an inside connection because they're selling all kinds of things we've never seen before."
"Sounds fun," Carrie grins.
An hour later they're downloading weapons plans and high-fiving each other.
"Hey, Bats," Tim says, flipping on the comm and pulling up security feeds from all over Gotham until he spots Batman. "What have you gotten done tonight? Because Robin and I just hacked the Department of Defense in under an hour and I'm pretty sure you can't top that."
"I've stopped seven muggings, three drug deals, and an attempted break-in robbery," Batman replies.
"Yeaaaaah," Tim says, leaning back and putting his feet up on his desk, "that's…really not as cool as quickly and efficiently gaining access to some of the most highly protected files in the world. Sorry."
Batman looks at the nearest security camera, and he's glaring. Tim can tell, even through the cowl's lenses. "Do your job, Oracle," he growls.
"I am doing my job. You're the one who's standing in a street glaring at a security camera."
"Tt," Damian scoffs before stalking out of sight. Tim flips the outgoing comm signal off.
"So, that's what you do, then?" Carrie asks. "Just annoy him?"
"Someone has to. And it's kind of a mutual thing," Tim says.
"Right, because you two used to hate each other," she says.
"Yep." It takes a second for the Carrie's words to sink in. "Wait a second, did he specifically say that? Used to?"
"Um, yeah. Why?"
"Wow," Tim says, half-faking shock. "He actually said it. I'm going to have to tell Dick, this is a big deal."
Carrie squints at him for a second like she's trying to decide whether or not to take him seriously. "So he's always this…" she trails off, bringing her hands up to mime squishing something, "…prickly?" she finishes.
Tim snorts. "Yes. Always. But don't worry, you'll get used to it. Probably."
She humphs dubiously. "Why did you hate each other?" she asks.
"Oh, you know," Tim says, "typical vigilante family drama. He tried to kill me. A couple times. It's complicated."
"…are you joking?" Carrie asks.
Tim shakes his head.
"He actually tried to kill you," she says disbelievingly.
"Yep. Like I said, complicated."
"I wouldn't think that, though. It seems like you get along well enough. Minus the bickering."
Tim almost laughs out loud. "I don't even know if you can call what Damian and I do 'getting along,'" he says. "We tolerate each other. We're like…"
"Oil and water?" Carrie suggests.
Tim contemplates that for a minute. "More like…explosives and fire," he decides. "It works, but depending on what kind of results you're looking for it's probably going to end up being a disaster."
"Huh. Okay then," Carrie says. They fall into silence for a few minutes and watch Damian threaten to drop a thug off a five-story building.
"By the way," Carrie says, "thanks for the message a few weeks back."
"No problem. I thought I'd save you the trouble of having to find him again."
"How'd you know he'd say yes that time?" Carrie asks.
"I put The Incredibles in his Netflix queue," Tim says, straight-faced. "And he stopped over that night to have me stitch up a knife wound and asked for advice. Kinda," he amends. "He doesn't really ask for anything, to be honest."
"And you told him to let me become Robin?"
"Basically. Tracking down Batman and badgering him about being Robin was my M.O. first. I sympathized with you," Tim says. "You're lucky, by the way. In my day, I had to figure out Batman's secret identity before he let me be Robin. Uphill. Both ways. In the snow."
"Is that so?" Carrie asks.
Tim hums in confirmation. He won't reveal exactly how much of a stalker he was to protect his own dignity. "Anyway, how's training going?"
"Not bad," Carrie shrugs. "I'm in shape from gymnastics, and D's a surprisingly good teacher. Demanding, but good. I just wish he'd tell me when he's going to let me go on patrol."
"A few months, at least," Tim says before chuckling at Carrie's look of annoyance. "It takes time. You'll get there."
"How long did he have to train? I mean, he started at ten. That's…pretty young."
Tim contemplates the question - Damian clearly hasn't told her about his upbringing and he probably has a reason for that. "He didn't really have to," he says. "I mean…he had to learn how to be Robin at first. But the actual fighting? Not really. Besides, he knows everything, haven't you figured that out yet?" he asks, only marginally joking.
"So you're telling me a ten year-old didn't need combat training before taking the second most dangerous job in Gotham City?" Carrie asks.
"It's not that he didn't need it, it's more like he came pre-assembled."
Carrie frowns at him. "You're not going to give me details, are you?"
Tim shakes his head. "I will give you quality blackmail material on anyone and everyone in this family when you want it, and you will want it," he says wryly, "but Damian's past is his own. I won't tell you that, and I wouldn't recommend asking him about it anytime soon. Mostly because he'll assume I hinted at something and then break my arm. He'll bring it up to you when it's relevant. He's pragmatic like that."
"Fine," she says. "How long did you have to train?"
"Months. With a ton of people. Bruce sent me traveling, even. It took a long time."
"That kind of sucks."
"Yeah," Tim says. "It kind of did. But it was worth it, in the end. And you had better believe I was grateful for it."
"Let me guess: saved your life?"
"Hundreds of times. Probably thousands. So be patient."
"I'm pretty bad at patience."
Tim rubs his temples with exaggerated seriousness. "Which means Batman and Robin are both impatient. God help me."
Carrie starts stopping by regularly after that. Somehow, it becomes a routine and she's there nearly every night after she finishes her training session with Damian. Tim doesn't mind her company, and it's not like he's going to say no to the extra help.
Not that there's a whole lot to do, some nights. Occasionally he'll get a call from Cass or Jason asking for information. He helps the current incarnation of the Teen Titans out when they need it, but that's not often. Most of the time all he does is monitor Damian's patrol.
"It's quiet tonight," Damian says over the comm one night. He's right. All he's done since he's been out is stop a mugging and it's been nearly three hours. He's bored. So is Tim.
"Up for a game?" Tim asks.
"May as well."
Tim pulls out a chess set from where he keeps it on top of a computer tower.
"You're kidding me," Carrie says as he expertly starts to set it up.
"Nope," Tim says, popping the p.
He doesn't really know when this became a habit. Whenever there's a slow night he and Damian play chess. It's a thing, somehow. Mostly because they're the only people they know who can give each other a decent game.
"How is that fair? He can't even see the board."
"Alfred Pennyworth taught him how to play chess," Tim says, which isn't the whole truth, but it's close enough for now. "This is the only way it is fair. Besides, it's not like we're using a clock." He moves his first piece. "Pawn to E4."
"Predictable," Damian says smoothly, Batman's growl slipping away with no one to use it for. "Pawn to D5. And yes, clocks do tend to make things complicated when I'm mid-fight."
Carrie's mouth drops open as she looks back and forth between the screen, where Batman is visible, and Tim, who is moving Damian's pawn according to his direction. "No way. There is no way you play chess while you're actually fighting," she says.
"It was one time," Tim defends. "He got ambushed and there were only 5 of them. He could have done it in his sleep. I could have done it in my sleep. And then he still won the game. I wanted to strangle him."
"Oracle, I would love to see you try. The last time you could beat me in a fight I was twelve years old and severely injured. Also, your move."
"You were fourteen and it was a mild concussion, don't lie," Tim says, surveying the board and moving a piece. "Knight to C3."
"Idiot," Damian says. "Bishop to B4."
Carrie stares at them both, gobsmacked.
"Crimefighting is very serious business, Robin," Tim drawls before looking down at the board in dismay. "And I really hope you're good at chess because I think Batman just slaughtered my chances at winning this round."
Tim walks in to his apartment after work a few weeks later to find Dick sleeping on his couch. Somehow, despite the fact that Dick still has his own perfectly habitable apartment in Gotham, Tim isn't surprised.
"Dick," he calls, taking off his suit jacket and throwing it at the older man to wake him up. "I'm fine with you crashing in my living room whenever you're in town, but a phone call in advance would be nice."
Dick's eyes open and he blinks several times. "Good to see you too, Tim," he says, yawning and standing up. "Just thought I'd drop in for a couple days before I headed back to New York."
"It's always nice to see you, but you still owe me a full report about everything that happened in Africa," Tim says. He smirks when Dick swears under his breath.
"Oh, come on, Timmy," Dick starts before Tim holds his hand up.
"Nope," Tim says. "You're not getting out of this one. That weapons ring took us a month to track down and I need the details. Deal with it."
Dick huffs and takes a breath to say something before the sounds of two arguing voices filter through the door. Tim recognizes them as Damian and Carrie but Dick looks confused.
"Is he dating someone?" Dick whispers, pointing towards the door.
Tim barely has time to process the absurdity of that statement and say no before Damian bursts through the door.
"Drake, I demand you - Grayson. Hello."
Dick tilts his head to see around Damian and look at Carrie before casually glancing back up at Damian. "Hey, Damian. How's it going?" he asks.
"Um," Damian says eloquently. Carrie looks amused. Tim can relate because Dick is the only living person who is capable of making Damian say um just by existing and it never fails to be at least mildly funny.
"I didn't know you were here in Gotham," Damian finally says.
"Just for a few days," Dick says. He and Damian stand there staring at each other for what feels like a full minute.
"So?" Dick finally says with a pointed look at Carrie.
Damian prepares to introduce the two but Tim has to ask something first: "Damian, you didn't tell him? Really?"
"Tell me what?" Dick asks at the same time that Damian says "I was getting around to it."
Tim rolls his eyes in exasperation. "Dick, this is Carrie Kelley. She's Robin."
Dick's eyes widen to the size of quarters. "Wait, Robin-Robin?! What? Since when?"
"'Bout a month and a half, now," Carrie says, stepping out from behind Damian. "Although I'm still training, so I haven't been out yet."
Dick throws his hands up in the air. "Damian," he says. "You didn't tell me? This has been going on for a month and a half and you didn't tell me?"
"As I said, I was planning to tell you eventually. You haven't been here in several months."
"And that matters?" Tim asks. He actually facepalms because he hates his family. "Phones do exist. It would be great if you both learned how to use them," he mutters.
"I am perfectly capable of -"
"Damian, shut up," Dick says. "Carrie, is it?" he asks, taking a couple steps towards her and flashing a smile. "How? What in the world did you do to make this happen?"
Carrie takes a look up a Damian before answering. "Pestered him about it until he said yes," she says.
Dick snorts. "Let me guess, you showed up in full costume while he was on patrol?"
Carrie nods. "Yep," she says. "After a week, Tim felt sorry for me and told him to play nice. So, here I am."
"That is incredible," Dick says. Damian looks like he wants to break something, preferably Dick's still-smiling face.
"What did you two come here for in the first place?" Tim asks, seeing as they did barge in yelling at each other.
"Oh, um," Carrie says.
"Is he being mean?" Tim asks. "Because Dick and I can beat him up if we need to."
"Oh, for the love of -" Damian starts. "No. I emphatically told her not to interfere with the Dowager case," he says as Tim nods in recognition, "and she proceeded to not only hack my personal files concerning it, but get directly involved as a civilian."
Dick doesn't even pause. "Did you solve the case?" he asks Carrie.
"Yeah," she says, shuffling her feet. "And it's not like I wasn't careful about it."
"That's not the point, Caroline," Damian says. "I told you not to. Period."
Tim and Dick take one look at each other before simultaneously erupting in laughter.
"Okay, first of all, Damian," Dick says, "You have no moral high ground whatsoever when it comes to obeying orders. Don't give me that look, you were my Robin for almost two years. I know you. Second of all, if Carrie's good enough to hack your personal files I think she's earned the right to do it. Write some better security and let it go."
Damian crosses his arms. "Grayson, she -"
"Went behind your back. Blah blah blah," Dick says. "Yes, that is a problem. But in this instance it worked out and she's following a fine tradition of Robins who didn't listen to what Batman said to do. Pick your battles. This one isn't worth it. Her disobedience is going to save your life someday."
"Perhaps, but it could cost her her life."
"I'm right here," Carrie says, stepping directly in front of Damian to look him in the eye. "Why can't you trust me to know when your orders are important and when you're just being a moron?"
Damian doesn't respond.
"If you'd listened to me when I told you what I thought of the case, we wouldn't even be having this problem," Carrie continues. "It's because you didn't pay attention to what was right in front of you, even when I pointed it out, that I had to do anything at all. Don't do that, I won't do this. Simple."
Damian opens and closes his mouth several times before speaking. "You are…correct," he says. "I will try to do better. I would ask that you do the same."
Carrie looks ready to protest and say that she did nothing wrong before Tim speaks up. "That's as close to an apology as you're going to get out of him," he says. "Good talk, everyone, we should do this more often."
Damian leaves for patrol not too much later and Dick tags along.
Tim and Carrie get settled in front of Tim's computers, as usual. They sit in comfortable silence for a while, but little by little Tim notices Carrie fidgeting. He lets her be for a couple minutes before saying anything.
"Something wrong?" he asks.
Carrie's head snaps up. "Um…" she starts. Tim nods encouragingly. "You don't think," she says, "you don't think Damian didn't mention me to Dick because he was…"
"What? Ashamed of you?" Tim asks.
"Well…yeah," Carrie says.
"No," Tim says. "He genuinely likes you, I know that."
"Seriously?" She asks.
"Carrie," he sighs, "if he didn't like you, you would know. I am speaking from experience here. If he didn't like you he wouldn't bother putting up with you."
Carrie stares at him for a second. "Okay then. But…why not say anything? Especially to Dick, he talks about Dick all the time."
Tim makes a helpless gesture with his hands. "I don't know. He was probably waiting until you were street-ready or something. Why? I'm not sure. If I knew how Damian's brain worked I would publish a book on it and get famous for decoding the weirdest mind of our generation. But I don't. You'll have to ask him."
Carrie sighs and slouches back in her chair. "I know, but we're just kind of clashing, a bit. You saw today. Things happen and we start arguing and then we're angry and it's stupid."
"It's normal," Tim says. "It happened to all of us, believe me. You just have to figure each other out. For what it's worth, you're better at getting through to Damian than most people, and you haven't even known him that long. It'll get easier. If it doesn't, you can always storm out and declare your independence by going on a journey of self-discovery and then designing a terrible new costume."
The joke is lost on Carrie. "What?"
"Please tell me you've seen Dick's first Nightwing costume," Tim says.
"No?"
"Damian has utterly failed you as a mentor," Tim says as he starts to pull up old image files. "Everyone needs to see Dick's terrible costumes at least once. Oh, and the second one was even worse than the first, somehow. You may want to grab some bleach for your eyeballs."
Carrie dissolves into peals of laughter within a few minutes. "You didn't mention his hair, Tim, it's awful."
"Whatever you do, don't tease him about the hair. He liked it. He still likes it. He considers growing it out again every single time it's brought up so don't do that," Tim pleads.
He moves on to the original pixie-boots-and-scaly-underwear Robin costume next because she's never seen hi-res photos of it somehow. (Tim shouldn't have to do this and Damian is a disappointment.)
More notes: Annnnnnd...that's all for now. I do some other things in this 'verse that I'm working on (one of them about Carrie meeting the rest of the Batfamily) but they're all being difficult. To (hopefully) be continued. Thank you for reading!