Destroyed III
A/N: Holy. Balls. This thing *whew.* Arkeadia deserves a bouquet of flowers and chocolates for putting up with my nonsense and being the best Ra's ever. His dialogue and some of the others from that scene is so from her. Meanwhile, my brain pan just needs to be empty. Crap. I feel a little beat-up after this, so no, I didn't beta it very well and there's probably a ton of mistakes and alot of little questions that could still be answered. Sorry but meh OVER TWENTY PAGES. One hell of a one shot, right? However, prepare for ass-kicking, feels, ass-kicking, and more feels. That's about how it's going to go.
Hell yeah.
At the meeting point, Red and the Bats are tight for this. T and O are already warming up, connecting with forces in place over the globe. Ra's and his people are on the way, Lantern Corps decided in a vote to throw their lot in with Earth so hella more fighters than he counted on (win, thanks Hal) and are already dividing themselves to the hot spots.
In less than an hour, the other forces stationed in New York would be arriving and the portal to his world would open. Red keeps himself carefully optimistic on the off chance some of the more suicidal groups would show, but they aren't in the main plan.
Before go-time, he's already prepping, double checking his wrist computer, his wing pack, making sure he's stocked to the nines (he'd already made sure Dick, Dami, and Jay's belts were already full, natch), and the whirlybirds for the fighters are laid out in the back of the unassuming van. The Bats would start handing them out when the forced started showing up.
When he finally takes a step back, Dick is there to touch the back of his neck, looking down.
The last two days have been…a mix of terrible and incredible. He's scoped out the remains of Gotham and even come to the Big (burnt out) Apple to get readings as close to the Mothership as he dared only to come back to the Bunker and be attacked by the worried group. It was, to say the least odd; these people had experienced the end of their world, had their own family connections, and were still concerned enough to mass attack him with hugs and demands if he had any injuries, faced any aliens, tripped into any other dimensions, yada yada (well, if the guy saving your world vanished before the saving part, wouldn't you be worried?).
And it was so strange because he'd been coming and going without this for a long time, even as the first kind of Robin when he was sent off to train and later Jean Paul had the mask, hell even after Bruce came back. Sure, they worked together (well when they did, great detecting minds and whatever) but after he took on the new role, stayed away, kept to the Tower and the Perch, so the concern became an afterthought, no big deal. Having it shoved more or less in his face is a little uncomfortable and bittersweet at the same time. Like his counterpart, he finds himself clenching Dick's cape and Jay's jacket, laughing a little in Dami's shoulder when they look so fucking relieved he's back.
The whirlybirds ready, Vic promised he'd have another three thousand at least by go-time, already calibrated and a few thousand disruptors. The ones he has are ready, the plans mapped out, calculated forced divided depending on factors of alien population and rank of hovering death ship (the other him was pretty impressed with the scale, too), he's left catching T up on everything to coordinate and exploring the hidden undergrounds of holy shit Gotham! For anything else they could use (and no, since they all have their eyes on him now, he's barely gone to the bathroom by himself. All of you, take a pill).
In between work and prep and answering his counterpart's numerous questions about his life and events that lead to where he is today, Jason and Dick snag him out of the hallway or attack when they're in the kitchen alone, steal with him downstairs to "check" on the B-ride (or to be stripped down and pushed against it or straddling Dick's lap inside it with Jason watching, waiting for his turn in the passenger seat: also hot. Jason bet he wouldn't have been able to squeeze between the wheel and Dick, sucker).
Now, he's got to trust their skills and hope they all survive. Odds are with them if the plans are as solid as he calculates, and, well, if he's as good at cracking alien code as he was last time.
He finally breathes, everything as ready as he can make it. Dick and Jason talk softly to him while Dami makes a final check.
"We have faith in you, you know," Jason is saying, holding the helmet in one hand, the disc on his chest glowing lazily.
Red gives him a grim smile, "me too. This is going to go well. Causalities are going to be unavoidable, so no unnecessary chances, okay? Stick to the plans."
The Batman, cowled and ready to rock, leans down, presses their mouths together, a quick swipe of his tongue inside Red's mouth, just a hint of taste. For consistency, he repeats the process with Hood.
"For good luck." And Red can imagine him winking behind the lenses.
Dami makes a noise in the back of his throat, "you two have already corrupted him enough. Red, make these two toe the line."
"Baby Bat, like I'd give them a free pass for just about anything," and Red grins over at him, but Dami clearly hesitates, domino in hand. "You, too, you know."
"…"
"What is it?" Red moves away from the older Bats, coming to stand in front of a version of himself because that costume.
Quietly, the younger kid just comes out with, "Brother…Not Baby Bat."
His heart gives a hard little beat and Red raises a gloved hand to Dami's neck, thumb rubbing across his pulse. "I get it, little brother. We're gonna be tight for this, right?"
And the kid chuffs a laugh, his eyes brighter than before, "since you have a knack for not dying, I suppose so."
Whoa. Just, whoa.
Unexpected.
The utter mass of heroes coming through that portal is just, again, whoa. The Bats from his world were among the first out, obviously looking through the crowd of this world's gathered fighters looking for…well, whatever, probably gauging their surroundings, making plans of their own because, Bats. In a crazy twist, he didn't expect them to come, so the plan changes with the mass ton of skill sets that are still coming through that portal.
And then—
"It's BIRDY! Holy SHIT! Hey BIRDY!" A shrill voice makes him wince internally because The Suicide Squad? Whose idea was it to…? His eyes dart to his world's B and Superman looking at one another over the group of villains. And surprise, surprise, Red Arrow is giving him a wave from over by Kori and the other world Jason Todd, already suited up with a lot more guns than normal.
Fantastic…hm, actually, this could be promising. Very much so.
Deadshot, Harley Quinn, Enchantress, Nightshade, Rick Flag, Killer Crock, El Diablo, and Slipknot (hm, Boomerang is suspiciously absent, small miracles since that guy) are all in a group that is pointedly given space by the still climbing through Green Lantern corps from his world and oh hey, All Stars, Doom Patrol, Dark Stars, and the Justice Society? Wow, not enough hot dogs for everyone.
"Harley," he greets while keeping an eye on the slowly appearing heroes from around this world as well, "nice you guys could make it to the party. We will totes have a piñata later."
She laughs that high-pitched, half-nuts (completely nuts) sound, "it's a fight, Birdy! We couldn't just sit it out!"
"Good to know. Actually, I'm glad you're here. I can work with your brand of crazy. Actually, I'm pretty damn sure I know exactly where you can unleash it."
Deadshot just gives him a raised brow, and Red grins back at him, wrist computer already raised to project a map of New York. "Once the fighting starts, I need all of you concentrated here." Now all of them are leaning forward, eyes on the map. "And you can just tear into some alien assholes to your little hearts' desires. Seriously, have fun. Don't die, don't kill any of our allies, but put some feeling into your rage."
"You mean," El Diablo states for the record, "we can kill them? Like, for real? No getting more time for it?"
"Absolutely. Watch the mind powers and stuff, but yeah, I give you total permission this one time for all of you to do what you do best against these guys. Wait for the signal, though. I sure as hell don't need anyone tipping them off before everything is in place."
"Fucking. Sweet." Rick Flag says it all right there.
Red just waves them away after giving them some comms; he takes a second to appreciate the other Bats handing out his tech where they can, re-setting comms to different frequencies depending on where Red's going to have them. Masses are already flying out to take point in the other four locations, waving as they take off.
"Red!" Cyborg from his world breaks off from the rest of the other world JLA.
Red shakes the offered hand, "thanks for coming, man. Seriously, I didn't expect the turnout."
"Hey, who's going to miss a good party like this? We get to break another world that isn't ours?" Well, Red hadn't considered that, but okay. "Especially when you send out such great invites," the guy laughs a little, "I got your tech from the old files, made the discs so our guys are good. The inhibitors too. The Titans have extras to hand out to the fighters here." Cyborg pulls a mini computer out of his chest compartment, "here. All of them are on the same network connection, so you can program the mass of them from this unit."
His eyes are enormous behind the lenses because his team and holy shit more tech, "the Titans…?" He takes the computer, already working his magic while listening.
Cyborg hums a little, "oh yeah. They…are very not happy, but they should be coming through soon. BB is going to give you the ass-chewing of your life, dude. Just wait for it."
Shit, they were supposed to stay at home and be safe. Red rubs the back of his neck, an old twitch, and gets back to work.
"Like they wouldn't show for you, Red. C'mon, they're your team, right?" And Vic grins at him when he doesn't say anything.
"Yeah, yeah, should have known better, right?"
"Yup. Oh hey, there's me. I'm gonna go tell that guy he's handsome as hell. See you at the brief." And the guy is already walking away to his counterpart.
Done. He taps his comm, "T? Our visiting fighters have my tech. I'm already re-coding so we should be good to go. Seems like my team has spares, so winning."
"I'd say," his counterpart says over his ear while the portal spits out more people and now he's watching out for it. "We've got both sets of Lantern Corps dividing up."
"Okay, in a minute I'm going to start with the layout. I'll need the mass comm for it then we can divide the signals by sections and ground/air forces."
"On it."
"O?"
"Red."
"You've got divisions one and two. I want to know how they hold up around the secondary ships. T will take three and four. I'll maintain us here as well as I can before Phase II. Then, I'll need you two to split up the work load."
"Acknowledged."
Breathe. He does, and…Kon, his Kon is carrying a box under his arm when he comes through. Bart, Cassie, Rave, Gar, and Miguel riding through that portal like they own it.
He stands with his whole body tight since he's happy and not so much to see them.
Bart just zips right up, throwing both arms around him. "Dudeohmygodwhatthehellwereyoueventhinkingtryingtomakeus-"
"KF," he laughs a little, "I can only hear so fast, man."
And the look in Bart Allen's eyes is very you are so going to get it, "oh, Mr. 'Let the Titans chill on Earth while I'm possibly going to die in another universe.' Seriously?! You, sir, are an ass hat."
"He's got a point," Kon says mildly, quirking a brow at him.
"As if we'd just leave you hanging." BB just looks insulted even though he's grinning.
Raven gives a harrumph, looking generally unimpressed.
Miguel, however, snaps him up in a bone-crushing hug (normal, good to see you too, man). Cassie cuffs him lightly on the back of the head.
"All right, all right, my bad. You guys…really didn't need another run at this whole thing, right? Pretty sure I already said that."
"We are your team, you fool," Raven snipes, "it is our right to be at your back."
And Red…Red just looks around at them, blinking behind his domino. He clears his throat a little, "uh…yeah. Thanks for coming then, guys. Glad you could make it to the killer party of the year."
Laughter from all sides, and T breaks it up. "Red. Comms synchronized. Give 'em a roaring 'hey, try not to die' speech, okay?"
"You got it, T."
He gives a wave to the Titans and makes his way to the van, watching his Kon and Bart hand over the boxes to this world's Batman, Hood, and Robin. Red just catches the back door and vaults himself on top to be seen.
"All right, people," he starts, his comm transmitting to the fliers and fighters on their way to the other four districts as well as the huge mass congregating around him. Silence falls over the huge crowd, people moving in closer to look up at him, regular humans, metas, aliens, superheroes, villains, from this world and from his. All of them gathered for a singular purpose: to save the world. And the plan is going to get them through this.
"For all of you from this world, welcome. Those of you from the other dimension, thanks for joining the effort. We all know the reason we're here. The invading aliens to this world have every intent to keep it, to kill off the rest of the inhabitants, and make it their own. We're going to stop them." Quickly, he outlines Phase I of the plan, how the gathering should divide themselves in New York City around the floating Mothership, what the Insurgent's strength are, what their weaknesses are, and how to fight them. He warns everyone to take a disc and a handful of devices to break their tech until he can get the virus implanted.
"Now, we know where we stand." He finishes off, "stick with the plan, be smart, don't take chances, and maybe we'll go home at the end of the day. Questions?"
The lower chattering starts up rather than be directed toward him. "Good. Maintain communications throughout the fight. In twenty minutes, I'll take the first wave of ground and air forces." He jumps down to stand beside this world's Bats, taking a small measure of comfort in the Batman and Red Hood's hands on his back where no one else can see.
And just when he gets the feeling, the anticipating, shit goes down over the active comm system between him and the first wave:
"Ah, Detective," Red almost groans as Ra's voice draws a few gazes around the group, looking for the source. "I hope you are happy to see me."
Now catching sight of the impressively armored Ra's Al Ghul and a fuck ton of assassins at his back, and wow, where were all these guys when we busted in the first time?
Just the Bats, and a few more forces could hear them. He didn't even want to know how T was taking this right now. "Ra's, glad you could find your way out of the caves."
And well, the guy looks a hell of a lot better than he had a few days ago, more powerful, healthy. "Detective," he purrs in a low voice and, holy shit, this world's Hood already has his guns out. "How could I possibly miss an opportunity to be…with you again?"
Ew and ick. The two Ra's really needed to have a meeting on how not to be creepers. Seriously.
Red sighs a little when he feels more than sees Red Hood finger the .45s in his holsters. "Keep your mind out of the gutter because, world war here, Ra's."
And a sly, white smile cuts across the immortal's face, before he actually tsks at Red, "now, Detective, once the work is complete, there is always time for play."
And Red Arrow gets this expression on his face.
"I'm sure our definitions of play differ…greatly."
A low laugh in his ear and oh God he is going to need to take a bath in bleach, forever.
"After our battle is won, I could take such great pleasure in showing you as many definitions of the word as eight hundred years have taught me. Shall we plan to meet afterwards?"
He closes his eyes behind the domino, counting to ten. "Fighting a war here, Ra's. Massive effort."
"Terribly sorry," hell no he's not, Red can hear it in his tone, "Am I...distracting you? I wouldn't want to begin my part of the invasion...prematurely as it were. I do after all have so many more hands to account for than your little Bat-clan." Those arms sweep out to motion to the massive ninja squad.
Sigh, now Batman is working his fists like he's got them around the immortal's neck. "You know, as informative as this is (not), you are really asking me to take a pause in a massive world war attempt to deal with your brand of immortal crazy. Seriously, if you liked being beaten up so much, why not just ask when I'm a little less busy here."
"If you haven't enough time to dedicate handling me properly, Detective, you need only say so. I am patient enough to wait for more accommodating circumstances."
Now the Bats from his world are moving through the crowd, coming closer to them because, fucking Ra's.
"I hope your patience extends to never. I already have an immortal pain in my ass waiting in my own world to be thwarted next Wednesday. He's already penciled in."
"At least my opposition is worthy. Though given that you have come to visit, I do not see why he cannot do the same so we might share you upon occasion."
And that's Damian, both of them, facepalming, while Red's cheeks heat up around the domino, and Red Hood behind him is growling low in his chest.
"Wow, no. No and a whole lot of no. You'll get the call when it's ninja time, until then, please, try to make an attempt at not being totally creepy. I hear Wonder Woman has a thing with kicking people's balls in their throats. Just a warning." He taps the comm, "T, change Ra's frequency to desperate and pathetic."
"Done." His counterpart growls.
"Don't worry, after this, you are going to have the time of your life siccing half the world's superheroes on him. Just keep that in mind."
"You have no idea the plans I already have."
"I can imagine."
Hood is already all kinds of on top of that, "T, you don't even speak to him without one of us. Am I one hundred fucking percent understood on that shit?"
"Yeah, yeah. I get it, Hood. Take a pill." And his counterpart sounds a whole lot of pouty.
"Reminded me to have the Titans clue you into some of our Wednesday protocols before we leave. Just in case." Red observes mildly as his world's Bat finally make their way to stand in front of him, also looking slightly creeped out. Good, now they know what he deals with.
The Batman behind him manages, "Red, we won't speak of this now because I'm too busy to fully process it, but we will speak of it. That shit is going to happen." And, yup, now the Bats facing him are turning to look at the Robin, Red Hood, and Batman really close to his back.
"Understood," he replies, turning slightly over his shoulder. But to the ones in front of him, "glad you could all make it. You're with the first wave." And his eyes pick out discs on all of them, more than one level of pockets on new utility belts, more armor and reinforced outer wear, more weapons because, well Bats. Still, he's happy to see they've got more tech.
Nightwing is still turning slightly to keep looking at the two behind him, "Red. Good to see you're okay."
And what now? "Prepping for a major world effort, N. Good to go."
The Batman from this world lays a hand on his shoulder, "your Red Robin has been invaluable in this effort," he says in that growly tone (one that is a little similar to the one he used when he was touching—whoa, not the time for that).
The other Batman gives a slight nod and the whiteout lenses fall on him, "Red is one of the best our world has to offer."
If he wasn't schooled in the art of Bat reactions, he would have done a double-take along with scanned them completely for just in case…
"We can see why," the Red Hood behind him draws out through the synths. "Kid's got a whole lot of talent."
Now, he wants to facepalm. "Thanks, Hood. I do what I do best." Which is layman's terms for shut the hell up, man.
"Ten minutes and the first wave is out." T interrupts and thank fuck for the calvary.
Red taps his comm, "acknowledged. Almost go-time, people. First wave line up." He gives a glance over both shoulders and down to the older Robin glaring at his shorter, usually yappier, counterpart. "You three ready for this?"
He get a whole lot of grins back because oh yeah, the totally are and the Titans are throwing him waves from over the crowd as people start moving to line up. And fuck, now his stomach is tight with anticipation, with the fight, his brain takes on a whole new level of planning and contingencies.
"We're with you," the Batman at his back squeezes his shoulder a little and the hand just suddenly patting his ass is Hood throwing in his lot with that. Robin likewise reaches out to grip his forearm, and it's a crazy thing that he smiles like an idiot at them before possibly riding off into a horrible death-filled battlefield. But hey, they're smiling back at him just as wide, and when he moves, the three of them move like a team behind him.
"Mind Field triggered, we've got Bats in there!" And he knows the cadence of both Dick Grayson's voices to tell Nightwing is yelling for his Red Hood and Robin in the background while the other Kon reports. Fuck.
He glides over the mass majority of fighting, his plan interrupted by the familiar boundaries he remembers vividly passing through in their own San Francisco less than a year before this. The trigger has been activated by the faintly glowing blue lines at odd intervals. He lands less than a few feet from Nightwing, staring into his own definition of hell rather than the massive fighting going on around them. And Red stutters, white hot panic lances through him, drowning out the constant noise through the multi-wave comm because he knows what he has to do.
Nightwing just stares at the hazy boundaries, mouth open to yell for Jason, for Dami, again, and he's… Lost.
Red forces his hands to work, to pull the grapple, to pull the line out with jerky movements, to tie it around his waist while his heartbeat pounds in his ears and he steps up beside Nightwing, his Dick Grayson and shoves the other end at his chest.
"When I tug, pull us out. Don't go in or we're all dead."
And he refuses to give himself any more time to be afraid, to pause, to stop, to look at Dick while he's talking, also scared of the unknown. And good, it's fine. Red knows all about it, and he knows some things are worth fearing. Instead of thinking too hard, he takes a page out of Dick's own vigilante handbook, turns, and leaps.
And Jason Todd is choking on his own blood, hands that don't feel as big as his pressed against his throat to try and stop his life's blood from pouring out, hot through the gauntlets.
The Red Hood (him, what the fuck, how…) standing over him with the blade glinting in the night, dark splash of shadow on the razor's edge.
"-all you'll ever be, Replacement. You think they give a fuck about you? You think they love you? Want you? You're supposed to be the smart one, the detective. Haven't figured it out though, have you? Fuck, I almost feel sorry for your stupid ass." And he's got pellets in his hand, just needs Red Hood closer. "Cause here's the truth, you little shit, so listen up. To them, the Bat, you're just cannon fodder. That's it. Just another meat bag against the baddies. And when you're used up, they'll replace you too."
And like the thought is his own head, the words in Red Robin's younger voice beat around in his skull like a curse: 'you were my Robin. Jason. Dick was Gotham's, Batman's, but you, you were mine. Do what you have to, make it right.' The pellets fall out of his limp hand.
And he chokes again, bleeding out in degrees, but fucking dammit, the feeling, the satisfaction that he's doing the right thing by letting Jason Todd, the former Robin, the new Red Hood, beat the ever-loving shit out of him, making every attempt to end his life, a fifteen year old kid, is right there in this moment.
The landscape around him alters again, making him almost puke until his eyes clear and the room is small, swaying in a way that he's not surprised, his body automatically compensating. He's been here a while. Arms fastened over his head to an I-beam in the ships structure, and the pain like fire burns from everywhere at the smallest movement.
The dark motherfucker in front of him is grinning.
"Meester Wayne. We are beginning to run out of patience with you."
The strike takes Jason by surprise, not Tim. And metal cuts further into the already raw meat of his back, stabbing deeper, bleeding him in degrees. Not him, but Tim, Tim cries out because: 'do what any normal person would do.' Flicker of eyes to the watchful camera lens in the corner.
And days have made it worse, his spleen long gone to hunt for B and the inevitable effect from lowered immunities are setting in. He already knows what's happening: sepsis. Time is ticking but there are children held captive, being taken to be sold off like cattle. He won't leave them, he can't. He has to figure out a way to save them all, he has to-
And the blows are continuous, a never-ending slope of pain and more pain. He can't feel the blood anymore, can't feel his once white shirt sticking to the wounds now.
A jump in time and they're holding him down across the dirty metal table in that room, holding up the red iron in front of his eyes before the collar is grabbed, ripped, and the iron laid across his shoulder blades with intent.
And there's no thought now, just screaming. Tim might not have died here, but while his voice echoes with the kid's, Jason Todd gets pretty fucking worried he might.
Robin vomits when the ground changes again from the torture room, throwing him around. He has no time to recover, to shake; instead, he's thrown, airborne and his back breaks glass, shards entering his view like glittering rain.
He sees himself standing, straight backed, sneering, spitting insults at Drake. The him in this moment is still angry, still wants his predecessor to acknowledge him. The Drake in this moment is bloody but (frighteningly) not putting all of his effort into the fight, rather the pain in his chest is like a knife, his only family, only lifeline in this world, his identity, his very self, ripped away by this kid, the kid that knows nothing of sacrifice, of doing the right thing, of fulfilling a need. And maybe…maybe the kid, this Damian Wayne is right, maybe he is only a thing like a chair, a carpet, a fork, a knife since he can be turned away so easily, his cape taken away like he'd never done anything to earn that R…
And then the change again, the world of fire and blood in which Damian Wayne was resurrected. The gloved hand holds out the disc with the R to the child who came back, fully aware he is giving it up of his own free will this time around. He will not let this be taken, but the act will finally be of his own choosing.
And in the depths of his mind, the voice is deep, dark with intent, 'never again. For either of them. Anything I have to do to keep them from dying again. They call, I'll come.'
And the shift again, sitting down, Robin is staring at hands, palms too big to be his own. In one is the Glock .45 that his dad used to try and defend himself from Captain Boomerang. The magazine is full, but it only takes one, doesn't it?
The not-his hands pull back the hammer, thumb the safety off, and to Robin's horror, the gun lifts easily, so easy. The barrel is nestled just in his peripheral, perfectly in front of his ear. And the weight in the mind, the body, lifts in a terrible release with the action. He can feel his eyes getting hot but he feels the smile cutting across the face because he can finally do something fucking right. And the thought echoes, it resonates.
And then horror fills Robin because the forefinger tightens-
'Dick's ringtone' the voice could be in Robin's own mind if the voice hadn't been Drake's. The Brady Bunch theme belts out from beside him and for a sick moment, Robin doesn't think he will-. The gun stays where it has the right place, the other hand thumbing to answer it, press against the other ear.
"Timmy, hey little brother…"
And the words are lost in the landscape, just the cadence of Dick's voice in a smooth rhythm, but it has been some time before the arm collapses down, bringing the gun with it, the metal hitting the floor with a sharp sound and the breath is caught in his throat, choking him while his eyes spill over.
"Tim? Tim?! Answer me. Tim, you're scaring me."
The voice is Drake but not, "I'm fine, Dick. I'm fine."
"The hell you are," and the fuzzy quality is lifting enough that Robin can hear the sound of a car door, an engine, realize Dick has the speaker phone is on 'is he in New York? The 'Haven? Don't come here, please Dick don't come here. Just hang up because I can't do this while—'
"Talk to me Tim, just keep talking."
But it fades again and Robin is looking down at the same gun, the same too-big hands. The forearms are thicker, more scarred, this Drake is a bit older. Night has fallen, only a sliver of moonlight through the window, and the sick feeling churning isn't in the man. It's in Robin because the gun is already raising and the voices echoing in his head isn't Drake; it's his own.
'—tt—. When are you going to get it? How much more obvious do they need to be for your simple mind to comprehend? You do not belong here, in fact, Drake, did you ever? You, the one Father didn't chose, the one thrust upon him, a burden. It will be fine as I am Robin now, I have taken my rightful place at the Batman's side. They do not need to pretend you are part of this family any longer and neither should you.'
Dick heard it all and said…nothing, going back to pulling his gloves on to prepare to be the Bat for another night while B was out of the city to get more superheroes for BI, running his recruitment speech. And his fucking "brother" said nothing, just let it be. Good thing the domino was hiding how hot and heavy his eyes were.
And this time, no one is going to call. There is no one. 'Damian is right. He isn't a Bat anymore, never really was. Dick, Bruce, O, Alfred, none of them argued with any of it because Damian and Jason were right all along. Fuck, he hadn't realized, hadn't wanted to believe, but it's all right in front of his face now, isn't it?'
There are no tears this time as it isn't necessary. Why bother? There is no one left to mourn-
The wall to the stagnant apartment in Gotham caves in abruptly and Kon, Conner bursts through, staring at the picture, his former teammate holding a gun to his head, the gun that didn't save his Dad but would take him out of the game; fitting.
"Put it down, man," Kon says gently, moving slowly, and Robin just stares at the expression on Kon's face, the fear. And Robin's heart beats with hope since the clone is Drake best friend, of course he will drop the weapon, realize what he's doing…
Instead: "All you need to do," and Tim's voice is broken, "is turn around and pretend you were never here."
Kon is shaking his head while the finger on the trigger tightens, the hand scarily steady because in Drake's mind it's time, "You can't, Tim. You can't. We need you. Fuck the Bats. They don't need you, but we sure as hell do." Kon moves slowly to his knees, right by Tim's, "Bart and BB have been taken, Tim. The Light is going to kill them if we dont- please, please, Tim, don't do this. Don't-!"
In tandem, Hood and Robin experience another shift, another abrupt change, holding their hands to their abdomens as they bleed out all over the sand. 'Batman would have entered some zen meditation phase, planning his next fourteen moves. I just bled.'
And the agony of a ruptured spleen is enough to make the Bats scream aloud while Red Robin forces himself to climb past it, to look at Z and Owen with pain because he couldn't save them, but still refuses to die in the desert while Bruce is out there.
And through the pain, of forcing the broken body to move because Pru's not dead (yet), something tightens around them both, something deeper, more real than the hot blood and cold night, more real than tying her scarf around her throat, wrapping their cape around their wound, and carrying her to the Jeep.
And the jerk is sick, abrupt, spinning the landscape crazily out of wack until the sun is beating down on them again.
Hood fumbles, uncoordinated, manages to get his helmet off in time to puke everywhere; Robin wretches on bile.
And Red manages to make it to his knees, breathing, his skull buzzing with pain. He spits, trying to get the grave dirt and ashes out of his mouth, his back still burning from the explosion, the Joker's laugh bouncing around in his brain and, 'Mom? I love-!' In a broken voice just before the explosion takes everything away.
His abdomen still sends synaptic responses of tearing from the sword sliding in him and 'others will live. This death is…honorable' in the depths of his mind where he will, can never forget.
Only his own acknowledgment saved him, Hood, and Robin, let him force his own memory to pervade the Mind Field, to trap them all in the same space so he could find them, get them both out. If he hadn't had his convictions that Jason and Damian are alive, that he'd made a promise to keep it that way…
Vision comes back in hazy stages, the silhouette of N kneeling between Hood and Robin, shadow of mouth moving, and his ears pop abruptly, slowly the cottony quality giving way in degrees.
He finally realizes Nightwing is holding the two other Bats up against himself while they shake, let him take their weight.
A blur, a shift, and blue eyes are terrified, hands on him.
Garbled something.
"Red…" Filters through. "Red?! No, no, no. KF! Mind Field, man! Fuck! Team! We need extraction! Now, dammit!"
And he can raise his arms, his hands, look around at the chaos in the sky because, fuck, still work to be done (Jesus Christ… Dami…Jay).
The comm still in his ear finally sharpens, and Red Robin straightens, still on his knees.
"Team." His voice is rough, "we need extraction for Robin 2 and Red Hood 2. Everyone else, Red back on line. Phase II is a go."
Kon is staring at him, horrified, shaky but allows Red to use his shoulder as a brace to stand. He fumbles for an instant, his brain coming back in layers of the plan, and he manages to untangle the grapple line around his waist by the time KF one and two meet in the middle from opposite sides of the battlefield.
"Shit!" Both echo, staring at him. Red, listening now to updates, points at the three Bats wordless.
Both Bart and a younger speedster he doesn't recognize (but has the same uniform, so not part of the deceased Titans) grin and salute him. In the next moment, all three Bats are gone.
"Red, you need to-" Kon has a hand around his bicep, and a whole lot of worried right there in his eyes.
"We have a war to win," he interrupts ruthlessly. "Get me to that ship, Kon. Now! Or we've lost." He throws one arm around the Supe's shoulders, ready to rise up and meet the sky.
He knew a sky battle would be a bitch to plan because, well, fuck, but as he and Kon are dodging the falling debris, explosions, mini fights, etc., he's still switching his comm, giving heads-up and strategy to everything he sees.
When they get closer to the big ship and the defenses kick in, Red takes a deep breath as Kon maneuvers to miss lasers to the face.
"Throw me!" He yells over the wind, whirlybirds already in hand.
"Dude. If I ever go gray, it's going to be because of you, you know that, right?!"
"Just do it!"
And the move is one they've practiced, pulled off more than once. His arm slides down, his body falling until it's only their grip on each other's forearms keeping him aloft.
Kon spins giving three sharp rotations before letting Red fly.
The whirlybirds hit the side of the ship perfectly, exploding a few seconds before he's sliding on the air currents through the destruction. His suit is snagged on jagged alien shit metal (use another next time, asshole, you're taller than you used to be) but he's already up, running, accessing the schematics from the hack of their neural net. And the ship is creepily sterile, lit softly to give him the way.
With his disc reactivated the second he got inside, his thoughts are blocked, and it's all about the virus now. His bo in hand, he rebounds off the wall at the shadows coming around the corner, attacking with full force, full body, he can't allow anything to stop him. Luckily, out of their suits the Insurgents are physically weak, falling under his blows without much fuss. Thugs on the bad side of Gotham put up more of a fight.
And he's running again, leaving the unconscious bodies behind him, sticking to the plan. But the whatever type of alien glass coming up on his right is enough to change the direction.
A massive storage hull, filed with rows and rows of containers… And human bodies. Eyes wide behind his domino, Red takes in the people trapped in some kind of suspended animation, peaceful in forced sleep.
"Holy-"
He snags the device from his belt, hits the button on his mask, changes comm frequencies.
"T! T!"
"My God," his counterpart breathes against his ear, "I see it!"
"I'm hooking you into their system," Red's already plugging the device into the wall panel. "Hack the shit out of this, get me in. We're going to need major extraction."
"Fuck, just holy fuck, okay. On it."
"I'm going on to the Control Room to plant the virus, then I'm coming back for these people."
"Copy. Red, fuck, I'll send you whoever I can."
But Red's already moving again, forcing himself away from that room, making his brain map out the way back. But, he has new strength, lives to save, and attacks oncoming aliens with vengeance.
The Bats take their roles seriously, and Jason Todd from the other world viciously pulls away from Nightwing.
"I'm going back out. Stay with the kid."
"Hood, I don't know what happened in there-"
"Red is out there fighting. He's not going it alone. You hear me?!" And even with the helmet back on, there's an edge, almost hysterical to Jason. Nightwing holds both hands up in an I'm not the enemy gesture.
And Robin, forcing his nightmares and Red's memories back, finds his own strength to stand. "He is right, N. We are going back out there and we will fight," the youngest hisses, meeting Hood's helmet in agreement.
The three tap their comm units, "Hood 2, N, and Robin 2 coming back in action. Where's Red?"
And T is the one that answers them. "Red has infiltrated the Mothership to set the virus. He's found prisoners. We need extraction soon. Can you get on it?" And that guy sounds busy as fuck.
"Who's with him?" N demands, already moving to the underground storage where the two BatPlanes wait inside one of the few designated 'safe zones.'
"Red's on his own." T replies grimly. "Can you be on extraction or not? I'm coordinating a world war here, you know."
The Bats exchange a glance, "we're on it. Bat team 2 out."
Hood takes one plane, N and Robin the second.
"Fliers," N takes over the main channel, "we have survivors on the ship, Bat team 2 en route. We need cover to get us there."
A chorus of voices makes him grin. "Good. When we've got numbers, we'll call for more extractions."
The ground opens, "hold on to something Dami," N fires the bird with fast hands. "We've got a brother to find."
Robin, already re-checking his belt gives a sharp nod of agreement. "We stay with him."
"Agreed," Hood replies from the plane's channel, the second plane ready to take flight.
"Hero time," N sing-songs as they take to the sky.
Bitch.
The Queen is still the regal figure from his world, a terrible being with glowing eyes and more height than the standard of her race. Her face twisted into displeasure when she can't crack his mind.
"You," and the voice, like tearing paper, whispers along his spine. "In all worlds, you are the thorn in my side."
"Nice," he says mildly, "glad you picked up on some of our idioms." The control panel now behind him is working on the countdown. Twenty more seconds and the virus will hit. He has to last for twenty seconds and then, well, whatever would happen would happen.
"Your device won't save you. For killing my kind, Timothy Jackson Drake, you too shall fall."
"Me, huh? I didn't come to your world and invade, you know." He twirls the bo around himself. "We didn't kidnap your people, turn your world into a death trap. But we sure as hell are going to fight. You underestimated the wrong race."
"This isn't YOUR world. You are dead here," she hisses out while he advances, "you should not BE here."
"Doesn't matter, me or anyone else. You and your people need to get it. Leave Earth the hell alone!"
The ships rocks sharply, throwing them both off balance, Red hits the wall sharply, on his feet quickly to try and take her out while he can-
But his body is jerked abruptly with an invisible hand, like Kon's TTK, only this pressure is like iron, holding him up, his extremities hyper extended. He grits his teeth at the abrupt agony of his legs being pulled too far, too much—
"At least I will be able to kill one of you," the Queen rises, eyes glowing bright. "Perhaps this death will send a wave through the universes and allow us victory."
"Fuck. You." He tries to manage, "others. Will. Fight."
And the Queen just laughs, extending a hand. Red's eyes wide as the domino is torn off, baring his face. "Look at me while I crush your mind like an egg."
She comes close enough to paw at the disc on his chest, and Red…Red always plans for the possibility his plans will fail…that he's going out of the vigilante game on a permanent basis (there was always a second in command for just in case). But…but, he's always wanted to go out in Gotham, to be buried next to his parents, to finally have a permanent home. From the moment Ra's asked him where he saw himself in the future, a gravestone has always been the first image. Now, he can finally have a real rest… Mom, Dad…
"Let go of my brother, you fucking bitch!" Dick…it's Dick coming to-
The Queen shrieks, a sound that makes him scream with her, her voice in his head, her thoughts in easy access of he tries hard enough—
Blue sparks and the smell of burning flesh which is weird because the Dick from his world had Tasers in his escrima sticks and this world's didn't have anything like that, where did he get—
His body drops abruptly, breath whooshing out of his lungs when he hits something not the floor. He has no idea Hood slid across the floor to catch his dropping body.
"Drake?!" Robin's masked face fills his vision. Not older Dami, the one that hates him, the one that is cupping his face in both gloved hands being strangely gentle. What the fuck is…
"What did she do to you? Tim? Tim, answer!"
And his brain must still be out because is the Damian from his world calling him by his first name? Slow blink to make sure he's really seeing this, but maybe a trap—?
"We need to get him to the plane," Hood's voice above him and the glint off the helmet, "now! Then we can find these hostages."
And he blinks, brain coming back online, running scenarios and tests to make sure she isn't still in there. No press of her presence, and she can't alter his thoughts, at some point the whirlybird on his chest got reactivated and he can feel the hum against the outer armor.
So he's back in the moment and these aren't this universe's Bats and he's lying in Hood's lap like a terrible heroine in some book. And what the fuck is happening right now?
The grip Hood has on his legs and ribs just makes the ache all over pretty obvious since, well, he'd almost had his body pulled apart.
"T has to crack the door," he mumbles, shoving himself up, making Robin and Hood lean back. "The virus-" and he's standing, wobbly as hell because ow ow ow, his fucking legs.
The Queen is on the floor, out cold and N is still standing, sticks glowing in his hands, but the guy moves to match his pace, takes his arm while he stands at the control panel, and maps the virus's progression. So what if he's leaning heavier than normal, it's fine, right? He's had a busy day.
"T? We've got launch. The neural net infection will begin in under a minute. Then they'll start dropping."
"Got it." His own voice in his ear sounds a little wonky, so maybe his brain isn't fully rebooted yet. "Door encryption is cracked, Red. I'm working on the stasis pods. They're going to start popping open soon."
His eyes take in all the code flowing across the screen with the alien characters, well, those don't matter, the numbers are what he needs. "Shit. How many?"
"Thousands, thousands."
Okay, change of plans. "We'll have to land the ship. There's no way we can get them out before everything goes down. Damn it." Now he's in the game, one hundred percent. "I need an area big enough, close enough."
"On it."
"And we're going to have to alter Phase II to compensate."
"Already done. I've let the other teams know the new game plan. Hack it, and I'll get all the ships on the ground."
Fucking right. "Go us." He mutters while furiously typing in the alien numeric code. The ship gives an obvious stutter before gently beginning to sink.
"Red! Christ, Timmy," N's voice jars him out of the numbers as the hand on his arm shakes him minutely. Hood and Robin are right against the other side, watching him with the lenses down.
"The pods are going to start spitting out humans, thousands of humans." He explains fast, tapping his wrist computer for coordinates T is sending. "We've got to land this thing."
"Fucking what now?" Even though Hood's got the helmet on, Red can see his eyes are huge.
"It's going to get bumpy. We need to set the landing pattern and get to the hostages." Red finishes entering the navigation and locks the system down with a complex encryption and password.
"Done." The ship gives another groan and Red taps the comm again. "Nav set, I'm moving to the hostages."
"Acknowledged." T replies, "anyone available will be coming your way. Processing the code to ships 2,3,4, and 5."
Red turns fast, too fast, has a second of vertigo, the room spins for an important second because well, too many things fucking with his brain apparently.
"Whoa, Tim." And…all three of the Bats have a hand on him, like in case he was going down or something. Blinking, he just stares, seriously creeped right the hell out (aside from the fact that his real name has come out of more than one of them in the last twenty minutes or so). Not the time—winning a war, saving a lot of people.
"Hostages," is all he's got, pulling out of the hands (Still, What. The. Great. Fuck?). Walking right past the Queen on the floor, he takes off at a run, bo flicked out and in hand, but the virus is already working (score). They only pass sparse aliens on the ground, writhing, clutching their heads in pain.
The Bats are right on his heels, playing an odd kind of follow the leader, leaping over aliens when he does, dodging them with him until they come to that room and the damn door is open.
"Sweet, good work, T."
The Bats pause for a few crazy moments, staring at the walls lined with human beings.
"Jesus Christ," Hood whispers, the helmet's synths picking up the words.
The first row of pods starts moving, the hydraulics working, and the capsules start opening.
Of course, several humans in the row are this world's Titans.
Bart Allen in the Impulse costume throws himself up with a scream, drenched in the clear goo the preserved him.
"Bart!" Red takes him by the shoulders as the guy is ripping sensors off his temples and shaking like fuck.
"Tim?" That small voice, "oh my God, Tim?"
No time to explain, Red just nods, "it's okay man. We're getting everyone out. Just chill, get this shit off yourself. We're landing this thing. Later, we'll have an epic heart-to-hear. Promise."
Arms come around him, smearing goop everywhere. He doesn't even give a damn because fuck, Bart. "D-dead. You were—"
"It's okay, B. It's okay. Breathe, man. I just need you to breathe."
At the same time, the doorway fills with other bodies and two Kons are better than one. Totes.
The dual JLA is just in time for the big rescue.
Martian Manhunter is the next one to force himself out of the capsule, and a flurry of 'holy shit, these people are alive!' gets the back-up moving.
This world's Kon takes over with Bart, and Red starts moving down the line, ripping off the mind sensors, pulling people up over the sides of the pods to cough and recover and breathe and be alive.
The Bats are pacing with him, following his example. He catches sigh of his world's B pulling this world's Roy up with vigor.
A heavy thud jars everyone, everything, and throws his balance off so he's on the damn floor (again).
"Landed it," T deadpans from his ear. "We've got them dropping like flies out there, Red. More coming your way."
"Acknowledged." He breathes, arms firming to push himself up.
Younger Robin appears beside him, gripping his bicep to help haul him up. Red looks down at him with a raised brow and (shit, no mask, totally forgot with world saving) nods once before he's moving again, leaping up to the next row, catching a moving pod to follow its progression down to ground level.
The doorway is filled with more supes and allies, a whole lot of bodies helping get people the fuck out of these things. In one corner, this world's reunited Titans are hugging one another, hugging their too-thin, too-broken Kon, crying, pulling themselves together in degrees while that Kon gives them a quick low down while he shakes, eyes wide with a whole lot of shock setting in.
He's pulling another human out, laying her over the side of the pod, ready to move to the next when something shakes his arm, a grip on the other side biting, and Red jerks.
"Your bleeding, Baby Bird," Hood interjects when his gaze is drawn to that side. And he feels his brows draw together (fuck, no mask). "Need to take a breather."
But, "what did you call me?" Spills out before he can bite his tongue.
Hood straightens a little, but doesn't balk or bitch or take it back. N on his other side turns his face with one finger so his eyes can look past those whiteouts to see the vague dark blue of Nightwing's.
"You're not tracking well. We need to get you to a safe zone, okay? B is right there and we can—"
"I'm getting updates. We're not done." He interrupts ruthlessly, pulling out of their hold because this isn't them, the other Bats, yes, but not the ones he's been moving further away from for the last few years, and just why the fuck is it suddenly different? He could handle the way it was before, but this…this is starting to freak him out.
Something must be in his expression because N and Hood go very still, backing up a steps with hands in the air, a 'nope, not dangerous' gesture.
"Tim," and N's voice is low, almost gentle, just like when he used to get hurt as the other Robin and it was Dick Grayson that bandaged him up, "we just to want to make sure you're okay. That's it. No one is attacking you."
Maybe because his brain is still a little fucked, but what comes out is: "You're not the Dick Grayson that gives a shit," and it sounds as confused as he must be.
And N flinches like he's been struck, his face changing under the domino, mouth open but nothing coming out. Red (my big fucking mouth) turns his back on them, striding to the door to get the hell out, already fishing for another domino when this universe's Bats come through the door at a run.
"Fuck! Red!" Older Robin yells, bee-lining for him with Hood and the Bat on his heels.
He holds up a hand, "hey, we're good here-"
But he's thrown back a step as the three latch on to him in the middle of hostage central. This world's Batman holds him up off his feet a few inches between him and Hood with Robin taking a tight hold of his bicep. He laughs a little, letting himself relax in their hold.
From a few feet away, N just numbs out a little, watching Red relax in his counterpart's arms, listening to that laugh, and his fists tighten so hard his wrists crack because… fucking because… those fuckers are taking the right kind of care he's neglected and apparently for too long… Dammit, Tim, of course I care. But the doubt, the slow realization he's been coming to since the portal opened in their world is coming to a sick fruition, all the how longs and when was the last times that he really has to think about. Checking his call logs for the last time he'd reached out to Tim's celly just to catch up, for the last time without masks and cases and the mission, the last time it was Tim and Dick instead of N and Red.
Robin makes a rude noise in the back of his throat because, well, it wouldn't take much for Red Robin to agree to stay in this world, would it? Why be the Bat's whipping boy when he could be cared for here?
"Thank fuck you're okay," Hood, this world's Hood says against Red's ear, voice altered with the helmet. "We heard you willingly jumped into the Mind Field. What the hell were you thinking?!"
"Still standing, right? Must have been a good day," he laughs again, not even going to admit the why behind it.
One of them presses too hard against his side and his breath rushes out in a choke.
The three pull back immediately, set him on his feet, and Batman's hand on his side to turn him so the guy can take a knee and look at the gouges in his suit.
"Fucking alien ships man. Don't make 'em like they used to," he jokes weakly.
The sound of leather creaking is the other Red Hood beside N clenching both fists as well.
"Motherfuckers," is spit through the synths, "that's our Red and they better get with the fucking program and recognize—"
"We shall fix this," Robin interrupts from beside him, the kid sneering more than usual, lenses turned to the other Bats around their bird. "Once we return. If it is not too late, we will begin to fix this."
At that, N and Hood both look at him with surprise since, well, kid's always been the loudest voice against Tim Drake.
"Fucking A, kid. Solid." Hood replies.
"I'm on board," N agrees. "Right now, we take care of the immediate threats. Family fix-it time in our own world." But, N has a spear of pain and panic in his chest that has nothing to do with this fight; the same spear when he watched helplessly as Tim jumped through the portal out of their world in the first place, a fear that whispers why would he want to come back? What does he have to come back to?
And the Bats part, moving to help with the awakening humans.
Red pulls away from the Bats when data form T and O starts pouring in from around the globe, and T fills him in with highlights.
"Every ship has a stasis chamber full of people. All the ships have landed so kudos for us."
Finger on the comm, Red holds out a fist and gets an immediate fist bump from all three Bats. "Good news on that front. How are the forces holding up?"
"Kicking ass and taking names," T replies with the grin in his tone. "The virus incapacitated their mental net, so our invaders are funny looking aliens with the strength of a ten year old. Suits are inactive and the flying devices are falling out of the sky at alarming rates. Good job, Red. The virus works."
And the pressure, the weight in his chest, lifts enough that Red Robin can take his first full breath in almost a week.
"Fuck, we did it." He mumbles while the other Bats still watch, still take note of him slightly swaying, his feet shifting to automatically counterbalance. "We won."
"Certainly looking that way, Red. You saved our world, man." And he can hear O in the background over the comm while the other three just start with the smiling thing.
And a short laugh chuffs out from nowhere, and his hand starts shaking. "Dude. We saved your world. All of us. Team effort for the win, right?"
Significant pause because well, who would know him better but himself? "… You sound off, Red. What is it?"
"I'm good. Need some fresh air, but I'm okay." He waves the other Bats into the hostage effort, and something catches his eye immediately. He makes a motion at the third row of pods and there…is Alfred Pennyworth. Batman's eye catches it as well, and he pauses for a crucial moment before he turns long enough to give Red a pointed finger a 'sit the hell down and wait for us' motion before he and the others are leaping up. Red waves them on again, thanking whoever in the hell let them save their Alfred before he strafes through the door and out into the ship.
He gets to the sunlight, standing in the hole he blew in the side and there's a fuck-ton of people standing around, gathering and tying up aliens in piles. When he makes an appearance, the crowds start screaming and clapping and just awkward as hell.
"Uh. Hey…yeah, the virus worked." He calls out to get some quiet and to be heard. "So, win. We're still getting reports around the globe, so not there yet, but it's looking good for Earth. You've done wonders, people. Great work."
And he steps out from the ship, moving to the roving bands to help tie up the downed aliens.
Not long after, the first hostages start coming through the doors of the ship, flinching in the sunlight. And the supes jump in, seriously too happy to help with the clean-up while the regular humans start looking for their families and homes.
This world's JLA starts organizing a group of the human freedom fighters to start taking names and families, to arrange vehicles and transportation. A few tents are already set-up for First Aid and supplies for weary fighters. He's happy to see other Kon with two sandwiches and a bottle of water surrounded by his team and looking like he's a completely different guy from the one he met a few days ago. Dude totally deserved some good.
"Red, we have positive report. The Insurgents are down, mass capture and containment almost complete on all fronts. We have control of the ships, and the Queen has been apprehended by the JLA on your end."
Straightening from pulling debris off a human fighter, he reaches a hand down to him, the other tapping the comm.
"Good news all around, T. We're coordinating the clean-up effort here."
He pulls the man's arm around his shoulders and turns walking the guy toward the First Aid tent, half listening to the guy's thanks for finding him buried.
And the Tengu is just suddenly on the other man's side, hefting the other arm.
"B, glad to see you're okay," he says as they had the guy off to one of the volunteers for treatment.
This world's B crosses his arms over his chest, one hand tapping the comm, "he's by the First Aid tent, appears to be fine," to whoever is on the other end.
"T and my sons were worried about you," the Tengu says from behind that bat face. "You need water and to sit for a few minutes or I'll get all of them here before you can take off, understand?"
And, wow. The guy just grabs his bicep and drags him to an empty spot of ground by the tent wall and shoves him down. One of the volunteers, looking dusty and worn but satisfied, comes right over. "What do you need?" She gives Red a critical once over.
"Water, food, if possible," the Tengu answers with a nod. "Thank-you."
"You got it." And she leans down over Red. "My little sister was on that ship. Thank-you, thank-you so much."
And he just cracks a half smile, "glad she's okay."
Then the lady puts a gentle hand to his shoulder before she's off to get them supplies. Tengu finally sits his ass down beside Red, forearms on his raised knees.
"T says we're mostly in the clear," Tengu informs him, "I owe you a great debt of thanks, Red Robin. You saved my world and my sons to boot."
"All in a few day's work, B," he replies wearily and earns a laugh from the man behind the mask. He wonders how long it'll take him to ask Dick for the mantle back, but estimates not long. Besides, Dick looks fantastic in Nightwing…maybe he could go red instead of blue because those finger stripes…
"Your people are accounted for," Tengu accepts the water and supplies from the woman and hands over half to Red. "All Super groups and humans. We've had few casualties thankfully. It…should have been much worse."
Fishing in his utility belt, Red opens the water, puts the antibiotic in his mouth before swallowing gratefully. "The Titans were supposed to stay in our world."
"Why is that?"
"I promised I wouldn't put them in this path again." Red shrugged, "shows how well they listen to the guy in charge, right?"
"Metas can be that way with the humans you know," Tengu points out. "They like to worry."
"Preach it," Red agrees, holding up his bottle, and Tengu taps his to the side. For long moments, the two sit in easy silence, taking bites of sandwiches, watching the activity around them, hiding down out of sight and out of the way.
The Titans, his Titans (well, his Kon) find him before anyone else does, only a few hours after he managed to slip away from the Tengu. He's halfway down the city, the remains of 54h Street trying to lift a slab of concrete from a pile, trying to make sure no one is trapped beneath. He'd been calling out for hours, searching for survivors, and damn his voice has been starting to give out, but there's so much more destructions, could be more people, more fighters buried… it's Gotham destroyed all over again, his mind going to how many were buried alive…?
The load is suddenly so light, he looks up wearily, and there's his Kon, healthy and alive and smiling like that time he put fast-acting itching powder in KF's onesie.
"Hey man," Red grins.
"There you are. Seriously, dude, epic job taking down, you know, the world." Red chuffs a laugh and the sound is as tired as he feels.
He waves a hand, gingerly leaning back down to pull up another piece of concrete while Kon's apparently got the heavy shit, "Group effort, okay? Everyone had it-"
But Kon doesn't usually buy his crap, just like how B used to be with him back when he was a different Robin—Kon understands he isn't the type of guy to harp on injuries or take a pause when there are innocent people still at risk, a job still to be done. His meta tosses the huge piece without care, taking the other out of Red's slightly shaky hands, hauling him back up to stand, "Shut up and c'mon. No one is under this, okay? X-Ray vision and stuff, right?"
He doesn't get the chance to nod before Kon's got him around the waist and they are airborne (Red just allows his weight to sink into Kon's side because holy fuck he's beat). The two go over heads and destruction and clean-up until there's a whole lot of his Titans, his Titans, waving like mad from the ground.
They come at him in a rush of 'you're alive, kudos for not, you know, dying.' Cassie and Bart get to him first, rushing to embrace him on both sides, their voices and expressions so happy to see him, so glad he's alive, he made it, and they aren't angry (yet). He winds an arm around Cassie's back and Bart's shoulders, holding the two tightly with his aching arms, letting his forehead rest on Cassie's shoulder for a minute before he pulls back and greets BB, Bunker, and Rave.
Miguel's voice is shaky as hell, rattling off in Spanish faster than Red's tired brain can compute, the guy holding him up with both arms and the lightly pulsing power radiating purple around them.
He laughs tiredly, "hombre, it's good, man. All good."
Then there's a whole bunch of adjectives that range from dumbass to boss man to whatever, but Red's with it enough to catch 'don't ever do this to us again' and his arms tighten around the taller guy just an inth more.
Raven and BB oddly enough, aren't giving him the disapproving stares and admonishments he expected from the older Titans since, well, he'd pretty much disregarded them on the whole warning thing. Instead, BB throws an arm around his shoulders while Raven stares him down (fondly, he swears that her fond look), her cape floating gently around her in the non-existent breeze.
He lets them do their thing with the sudden burst of talking and the play-by-play of their parts in the big battle, recounting strategy that he's really going to have to remember for later so he can update files and spreadsheets in the database. He keeps his arms by his sides, wings close while he listens but dammit if they don't—
"Red?" Cassie interrupts Bart's stirring finger puppet theater of how he beat a circle of aliens without trying hard. Speed, motherfuckers.
"I'm good," he tries while smiling at Bart, but she already has his arm and-
"Shit," she distinctly blurts. "Kon! Bandages and alcohol if you can find any. Hey, Red, I need you to sit down, all right?"
He waves a hand, his head fuzzy and warm because his team came anyway, even knowing what they'd be up against, and all of them are okay, and just, no, no, he's good, really and all of you are here and all of you are okay, but there's people seriously hurt or dying out there still, probably, and he needs to just get back out there—
"He's going over!"
Red manages to turn his head to look because Over where? Who?
But his legs lose strength abruptly, and he finds himself held against a surprised Gar (when did he move next to me?), the shorter man's arms around him before he's—
Out.
"Red!"
At the sight of an out cold Red Robin, the world goes ape shit.
T demands to know what's happening since he suddenly has alarms going off in the Bunker, the Titans surround the bird, the other group of Titans come to see what happened, the rightfully placed Bats heard "he's going over!" and likewise join the crowd, the visiting Bats muscle through the onlookers for the visiting Batman to quickly take his former Robin from Beast Boy's arms, moving fast so he gets as little push back as possible.
"He's bleeding out," the Batman calls to his own team and to keep others from starting to argue about who's taking care of Red Robin and focus on shit, shit, get the bleeding stopped.
Cradled against his old mentor's chest, Red is completely slack, a mess of torn and dirty uniform, blood drying on his face, hands, and leaking through his body armor. N, Hood, and Robin surround the striding Batman to the First Aid tent and clear off a table for B lay the bird down.
"Hood arms, Robin legs, Nightwing, with me."
The Bats snap to, Hood bracing both arms at Red's biceps, Robin lightly pressing down on the ankles in case he should come to swinging. The Batman is emptying supplies out of his utility belt when the female volunteer comes up with, "What do you need?"
The other group of Bats barely register when the visiting Batman starts:
"Gauze, sterile needle and medical thread if you have any, if not sutures, if none of that, medical tape, alcohol."
He and N work fast, assessing the numerous gashes ripped out of the uniform, the other Batman and Red Hood step in beside the visiting Bats to deactivate the security traps with knowing hands before removing the harness and utility belt. N and his Batman exchange a glance since someone else knew the traps better, easier than they did (N grits his teeth at his counterpart moving with purpose beside him, hands unerringly removing the harness from Red).
And when the body armor is gone, the body suit unzipped while N holds Red's upper body up while his counterpart gets the outer layers off fast; once it's said and done, B takes an audible breath, his eyes wide beneath the cowl because good God, what the hell happened to Tim? The scars…he'd been a little marked up from years of being a vigilante, being Robin and then Red, but the jagged one across his abdomen is new, the ones on his back that can be seen around two semi-deep lacerations are horrifying. And he knew nothing of this.
His other sons are likewise shocked, just by the strangled noises coming out of them and the grim set to their counterparts (who aren't shocked, who knew, and B's mind runs with the implications of it all). Robin's hands tighten on Tim's knees, Hood's helmet tilted to take in the span of skin from neck to waistline where the suit is peeled down; his whole body shudders with memory, with that whip tasting flesh, and fuck now he knows everything he saw really happened; it was all the unbridled, complete truth. He and Robin look at one another, both coming to the same epiphany.
N snaps himself out of the self-recriminations because Tim is still bleeding sluggishly from lacerations and punctures; he cleans up the blood so B can assess and triage. His reaction clear in the downturn of his mouth while his counterpart talks low in his ear:
"Kidnapped. Tortured," this world's Batman says right by his ear, holding up one of Red's arms to be out of the way.
N's domino turns toward that reinforced cowl, "when?"
"Didn't say. Earlier this year, the scars aren't faded enough for longer."
"Who?"
"He refused to talk about it."
While Hood threads the needle for him, B calls out, "Superboy."
Stepping through the crowd, the teenager muscles a place for himself, looking at the battered Red Robin with worried eyes.
"X-Ray vision. We need to know if he's bleeding internally, anything broken."
"On it," the meta's eyes are already hot with the power, forcing himself to calm enough to scan through the first layer of skin to the damaged vessels and arteries, looking for something more substantial. He gets a whole lot of nothing with broken bones or injured viscera. Other than the stunning lack of spleen, looks like the damage isn't deeply internal.
"No broken bones or ruptured insides. Spleen is still gone, so it's our Red," the teenager glances over his shoulder. "Speaking of which, KF! RRK!"
"Spleen?" The youngest Robin over from staring at Red Robin's slack face, giving his Bats an arched eyebrow.
Kon just stares while Kid Flash unhooks the battered-looking red case from the straps holding it to his back and hands it over. Raven silently strafes beside the Red Hood. He takes the case from KF, reaching over B's working hands to give it to Raven.
"What do you mean 'lack of spleen?'" Robin presses.
Kon's brows draw tight while Raven takes out the glass vial of power antibiotics, drawing B and N's gazes while she uncaps a syringe from the kit.
And it's the other Batman that answers, "he was stabbed, looking for this Batman in your world," and a nod to said Batman who has visibly paused in stitching up the lacerations. "Lost his spleen in the process."
"That was more than two years ago," N replies, voice a little off.
"The when is inconsequential," Raven interjects, knowingly injecting Red's arm with the antibiotic, "keeping the condition managed is crucial. He has had enough brushes with sepsis for the year." She replaces things in the kit, Red Hood looking down to see a bag of IV antibiotics, two more glass vials, a syringe of pure adrenaline, and a square device with two electrode connected (why the fuck would they be carrying a mini-defibulator…?). Raven closes the case with a snap, and the Red Hood flinches slightly, but she looks up at him with those eyes that suddenly narrow on him before she steps away and gauze pads are taped over the stitched lacerations so Red can be laid back down.
"Good work," B says to Superboy, tilting his head to the side. "We're going to take care of him, give us a little time."
And Kon can see right past the lenses and the cowl, his face a mask because he really doesn't believe that shit for a second. "Been a long time since the Bats have said that about him," the meta observes mildly, "s'okay, once he goes back through that portal, we know who really watches his ass."
B, N, Robin, and the corresponding Red Hood straighten, eyes swinging toward the kid with the clenched jaw and his own narrowed eyes. BB takes a hold of his bicep, pulls him away with a: "we're not here to antagonize, Blue. Whatever is best for Red right now, we'll deal with."
Letting BB pull him away from the table, Kon-El just snarls, "they didn't even know about his immunities, man. Seriously, what a great way to say get the fuck out of the family and stay gone."
KF is right there with him, "Blue, we know who's got his back, okay? They want to play house for a hot minute, whatev, long as Red doesn't get fucked about it, fine. We know what really goes down and so does he."
The Red Hood and Batman of this world exchange a sharp glance and then look to their obviously affected counterparts (of course they had been to that world, seen evidence with their own eyes in that Cave, in the Penthouse, but Red's Titans talking about it so easily makes the situation that much more defined), but B refuses to let Red Robin stay on this table and bleed out any longer. He moves to finish up with the other punctures. Once realizing the Bats have it all in hand, the groups behind them start dispersing. The Titans don't go far, watching with knowledgeable eyes.
And B, along with his Bats, are now very well aware the volume of Red Robin's life for the past few years have been filled with too much—too much they have missed. His sons help get the body suit back up and over Tim's battered frame while the thoughts and implications churn.
"We can take him to the Bunker," this world's Red Hood isn't talking to any of the Bats but his Batman, "he could rest easier there rather than out in the open."
"Agreed," the other Batman muscles his way through and is already moving to lift Tim up, as though this man is one of theirs, their responsibility. "I'll get him back in the plane and be back. T and O can monitor him while we're cleaning up."
"With you," the other Red Hood grabs the harness, utility belt, wings, and pack, not bothering to care about the disapproval radiating from the visiting Bats since, well, point. Leaving their injured bird in the open could have bad results (since, yes, Ra's is still wandering around with his ninjas and assassins).
And just seeing how carefully, how gently his other self in the Batsuit is carrying Tim cradled against his chest with the man's head on his shoulder makes a whole lot of 'that should be you, asshole. That should have been you for the last two years' well up in N, making him ride the guilt train just that much harder. It took way too much for him to realize how long it had been since he'd treated his brother like family. Everything had started being about 'what do you need, N?'
And fuck. What if they asked him to stay?! What if he wanted to?!
His chest aches with it all.
B pats his shoulder on the way out of the tent, but none of it makes up for the loss he already feels.
Fuck.
Nightmare.
Damn it, Jay, firey death sucks.
"Hey man, it's okay," and his own voice jars him hard, snapping him into action. He's out of the bed, ready to fight.
The other Tim is staring, mouth open. "Holy fuck, man. You're just…wow."
Oh, his bad. "Uh, thanks. Assassin training and stuff. Don't use the lethal part but you know."
Bandages are wound around his upper body and…fuck, he's shirtless. Great, just great.
"How's-?"
"Nope," other him just stands there, arms folded across his chest. One finger points back to the bed.
And, well, him. Tim sits gingerly on the edge, waiting.
"Cleanup isn't going to be quick, I mean, we all get that so no big deal. Now that the people of Earth are free, we can start rebuilding."
"Win." Red says tiredly, scrubbing a hand down his face.
"Totally. I recalibrated your device so the majority of your world's forces could get back. They were epic by the way. Most of them wanted to stay and help with the rebuild."
"Natch. Superheroes do it better."
"Heh, apparently you're an inspiration."
Red shrugs a shoulder, keeps himself from wincing. "Please tell me-"
"Nope, they, uh, insisted on staying. Well, your Bruce had to go back with the JLA, but the others are still here. Make sure you aren't dead or our prisoner or, well, I think your N was worried about Ra's possibly kidnapping you too. Can't even blame him. Seriously."
Tim sighs, shoves a hand through his too long hair. It really would be too much to ask for that they'd all just gone and went back to their Gotham, their Cave, their lives, and left him the hell alone to go back to his. And, why the hell was it all of a sudden too much to ask for anyway?
"They've been coming back to check on you—frequently. O is ready to start up with the bitch smackings. You know, brooding Bats."
And that's disturbing. Tim frowns with thought.
"I could tell," the other answers with a quirk of his lips, "classic guilt. I mean, those three are obvious, like, really. Whatever they saw in the Mind Field did a number to change their Tim Drake policy."
Tim raises a hand, wipes the whole thing away. "Nope, I am not even going to touch that mess right now."
"Uh-hu, we are talking about this or all four of you are going to dance around everything even more than you are now. Nope. You saved my world, I am so going to save your family."
"There's nothing to save." Tim just shrugs, "I've moved on, man."
"Try again. My bullshit meter is going crazy. Besides, my Bats already gave me some deets on your world, Tim. I've kept my family together because I force them to talk about their feelings and before you ask, yes even B. It's the only way to survive this life. You need to take a page from my book and tell them exactly how they've pretty much forced you out of their lives."
Whoa, just a minute. "It's not like that, at all. I left too, you know. I didn't fight to stay. My call."
His counterpart actually looks pissed, "abandonment issues much?"
He just blinks, and the other guy is rolling right along.
"You're only saying what you think is the correct response when you should really be telling the truth. No one should fight to be part of a family. That's not how it works, Tim."
Angrily, he sneers, "my world is different. I finally started to get it. Two years, man, and I get that shit. I'm the placeholder until Dami got there. Fuck, I shouldn't have forced myself on them in the first place, but there was no other option at the time. Damn it, it's fine how it is now that I understand." Tim buries his face in his hands, "look, man. It's been a crazy few days, okay? I can't do this now. I need coffee and updates. Do me a solid here."
The shorter man isn't convinced and every muscle in his body is tight. "You just woke up from some pretty epic blood loss and exhaustion, so I'm cutting you a reprieve since I'm awesome. This, however, is not acceptable, Tim."
Great, his other self is also an epic pain in the ass.
"I am going to be a bro on this one and get you coffee even though you totally macked on my Bats but no updates."
Tim freezes, eyes suddenly wide. "They-"
Other Tim hitches a thumb at himself. "Bat therapist right here. Of course they told me. I used to be theirs until we all grew out of it, which is fine. I'm very NOT upset. Rather the opposite. You took care of them for me, gave them what they needed at the time. Good plan. Self-sacrificing, well, maybe because I know how good they are in bed."
Tim coughs awkwardly because of course his other self would get it. "Uh, yeah. I owe you high fives for having some huge balls."
The shorter one arches a brow and a whole lot of ah-ha is there, "ah, I see. You didn't."
"No." The voice is softer, but firm and the other Tim reads into all of it. He stands, the lines of his frame taunt.
"Coffee, then. Hang tight."
"Thanks, man."
"…don't. Just…just don't, okay? You came here and bled for my world, for my brothers. This is the least I can do."
And leaving the other Tim Drake who is so righteously, sadly fine with being left is exceptionally hard, but seeing his Dick and his Jason waiting out in the hall makes it somewhat more tolerable. Both Bats look at him with the same fondness cultivated over years, and this world's Tim Drake has to give them the same smile. He waves the two down the hallway, shooing them.
"He needs coffee and time to process." Tim explains, "he's—I am very not comfortable with where he is right now." This said as they come into the main communications center, the other three Bats looking up, hopeful.
His Dick just ignores the three visitors, "meaning?"
Tim's brows furrow, "he is—" his eyes go to the listening other Bats, "not in a good place, Dick. I can safely say I am jumping over the concerned hurdle to hit the next one up."
Tim gets a mug down from the cabinet, pouring a full mug his Jason immediately takes.
"Spell it out, Timmy," his Red Hood asks.
"The two of us can exist in the same universe," he replies with a shrug, "I've done my homework, and he can stay here without an adverse effect to this universe or others. That's how concerned I am, Jay."
Robin, the shorter Damian Wayne, is a few feet from them without seeming to move. "He cannot stay here. That Timothy Drake is ours."
And Tim arches a brow down at him, "surprising assessment coming from the child that shoved him out the door."
Damian flinches.
"It's not just his fault," the other Red Hood is leaning against the counter, bare-faced and brooding. "We all got our lot to atone for with Red."
"Understatement," Tim replies, standing with his own cup of coffee, waving his Jason away to take the other mug to the Tim still hurting. "And probably, possibly too late to fix the damage. How long has he been kicked out of your family?"
"He hasn't been—" and the other Dick looks just this side of desperate.
"Of course he has," this shorter Tim, just as methodical as theirs. "Dick. That guy in there? The one that chose to come here and save my world? He's only not suicidal because dying in the line of the mission is the only way to go, and believe me, that shit is going to happen eventually. It's a matter of when. He's had some time to talk to my brothers and they put a whole lot together about how he lives, why he didn't think any of you would bother to show up here." He hitches a thumb at himself, "Detective, remember? I don't need your affirmation, I have the proof in the room down the hall."
The other Dick still sitting at the table just stares, those blue eyes full of turmoil.
"So, since I am in essence, almost but not the same guy, let me give you the low down," his eyes slide to his Dick, leaning with him against the counter. "Your options, are they are now, stand at, one: giving the guy up. Dig your claws out of your intel source and let someone that give a shit about him have at it. If he doesn't want to go back, don't fight it. Let it be. Or—" he holds up a hand to stop the three simultaneously opening their mouths to start arguing, "—you get the full implications of what happened here and what you've learned about your Tim Drake. Make this shit right and keep it that way. Fight for him."
And the other Jason Todd, the other Damian Wayne, the other Dick Grayson straighten in a strange cohesion, like they'd already come to that same conclusion. The Dick by his side sighs a little as he does because any hope they may have had for this other Tim Drake to stay, just ebbs away in the face of this type of determination.
And the Tim of the newly freed world is so very right.
Dami, Dick, Jason, and the other him are staring, their faces grim while the Bats from his universe work the device that would open up the door to their world and take them home.
And Red just looks at these Other Bats with a soft smile because Kon and his other self are holding hands, looking back at him fondly and their Titans are alive. Damian is next to T, satisfied his brother is back and his world their own, that kid can smile, can stand…
And Jason's eyes aren't green anymore but a startling blue, just like his eyes are in the portrait at the Manor, the one a young Red used to stand before after training, swearing he would do his best to make his predecessor proud.
And Dick, Dick…standing close to Jason, he has a new feel, and it's there in his face and his eyes—hope. That gentle softness and determination in the liquid flow of his body, in the sway of his hips when he walks, reminiscent of the acrobat, and the crinkles at the corner of his eyes when he smiles now.
Red can look them over and be satisfied with what he's accomplished here. He can smile back through the pain in his chest making it tough to breathe.
"You guys need to keep it together, okay?" He says low, "I believe in you."
T and Kon come at him, embrace him first. "Thank-you," T whispers against his shoulder, "Red, Tim. God, thank-you."
The laugh bubbles up, low and slightly pained, "hey man. It's okay. You guys, your world, it's going to be okay."
And that guy, the short one had the Titans and the Bats, and they'd keep him safe from Ra's and he'll go back to being Red someday, too.
Dami without the domino, still in his old Robin costume, holding himself tightly, is next. And his arms are shaky but so tight with his own brand of strength when they wind around Red, his face pressing in the right side of Tim's neck.
"I…am so honored to know you," and his voice, Red can't keep it from that crazy kind of hoarseness when you feel too much. "I can't even tell you how proud I am to be a man that can call you brother."
And his neck is a little wet from where the kid is pressing but his own arms tighten, his hand coming up to the back of the kid's head while they both pretend he isn't crying.
"I…will strive to be a man you can always call brother," the younger finally says. "Red-"
"It's okay," he soothes even though…even though it's really not. "It's okay, Dami." The kid finally pulls his face away, staring up with those green eyes, slightly red but dry now.
"You will always have a place here, with us." The hold tightens, emphasizes his point.
"Thank-you, Dami." Because fuck, his eyes are getting heavy now and he has to pull away.
Then… These two, no masks, no cowls, just them, and his lenses up so they can see everything.
Jay doesn't fuck around, just steps in and grabs his neck in those big palms with thumbs pressed against his cheeks, lowers his head and presses their mouths together. And Tim melts into it, his hands grabbing at Jason's biceps, holding tight when he opens his mouth just to get a taste before they both pull back, and press their foreheads together.
"You could stay," Jason whispers holding his gaze. "They don't need you, not like we do."
"I know," Tim whispers back, "but I can't leave my team."
"They have another Robin," he counters gently, thumbs moving, making small circles.
And Tim smiles up at him, "they do, but I've got promises to keep."
And Jason sighs against his lips, hands moving down to wrap around his waist and lift him up against the warmth. Like Dami, he buries his face in Tim's neck for long moments, pressing his mouth against the beat of his pulse, squeeze his eyes shut while he holds on.
And the other Jason Todd automatically wraps his hand around the other Dick's wrist, squeezing lightly. His helmet imbibed with sensitive microphones picks up everything. And fuck, the kid… Fuck. His mind is going too fast with the implications, what this Hood means to Tim, what promises he's gotta come back for, and Dick looks at him without the lenses because now he feels like more of a bastard than he did after leaving the Mind Field.
This is sacrifice.
And Jay finally puts him down again and with obvious reluctance, releases the hold. Right beside him, Dick without the cowl smiles down, patiently waits, never demanding something for himself, but Tim just breathes and starts to reach before he finds himself in a very familiar octopus hold, lifted off his feet again with this Batman holding him so tight, like he's something of worth.
He buries his face in Dick's neck, forcing himself to blink rapidly to try clearing out the hazy sheen while his chest hitches.
"Thank-you, Tim," Dick whispers hoarsely against his ear, head bowed over him. "Thank-you."
The small laugh is too thick, too heavy, but he manages it anyway. "I should be the one saying that, you know."
And the gentle press of kisses to his temple and forehead answers that for him. He raises his head enough to look in those eyes, ones that are hopeful now, ones that can actually see him.
And there doesn't have to be anything else because Dick gets it 'I would never leave if I didn't have to.' 'We will always be here if you ever want to come back.'
On his feet, with his body and wings hiding it, Tim's shaky hands grab one of Dick's and one of Jason's, putting their palms together between both of his.
"Take care of each other. For me, be happy."
Jason and Dick lace their fingers together and their free arms come around him, pulling him against the front of their bodies again, pressing his forehead against them both.
And the portal flares bright for a second, the indication that it will close soon.
The youngest Robin, who has remained silent and watchful clenches his fists at his sides, caught in a moment of indecision. But he takes a deep breath:
"Drake…"
Only the sudden tenseness in Reds back shows he's heard.
"Drake… Tim, I am calling you," Damian swallows hard, but presses on. "Will you come?"
He raises his head to look at them one last time, his heart in his eyes, and the soft acceptance in theirs before they let him go.
The JLA and Outlaws grabs Hood, N, and Robin, right as they step out of the portal since a whole lot of congratulating them is in order and the noise is loud with victory.
By the time Red steps through, backs are turned and he can dip behind the portal and leave the massive meeting room without even being noticed since the Titans aren't there.
Shaky, forcing himself to be carefully blank, he makes it to the Watchtower's teleportation room, quickly typing in coordinates before stepping up on the pad. One hand braces against the wall when it feels like his body might just give out, when he loses his endless strength to keep moving, to keep the horrors of his life at bay because what has he done? What the fuck has he done…?
"Timmy?"
And he can't think of that voice as his Dick because that one hasn't been his in a long, long time. His free hands shoots out, lightning fast, presses the big red button to execute and send him away from here where he can hurt without an audience.
"Shit, Baby Bird, wait-!"
But he's in the perch in San Fran, the Tower, familiar surroundings, his things in a world he helped save long before today. The backpack falls to the floor and he's sure he gives the code to initiate black out, no one in or out before he stumbles to the bedroom and into the adjoining bathroom, stripping off pieces of his suit with numb fingers.
He unzips the body suit and…the Gotham Knight's shirt covers up marks from fingers and mouths. The shirt still smells like the Dick that put it over his head this morning, and the dark haired man in the mirror must be injured somehow because he's crying. Fuck, that guy looks like he's taken one hell of a beating, right? Right…?
His legs lose strength and Tim Drake allows himself time to shake.
Two hours and civvies. Showers, Alfred food, and a brooding, energy-filled table. B is already riding that train with them. Little D was shaky as fuck when he quietly gave his report mid-meal about what he went through and saw in the Mind Field, staring at his hand while describing the two near suicides of Tim Drake, in painful detail. Jason Todd also is very not okay, especially when the whole tortured thing comes out. B listened, eyes for his sons, patting them both on the shoulders, tells them to take a few days, and he'd contact the Birds of Prey to watch over Gotham while the Bats are out.
"Where are you-" Dick starts, picking up his backpack since he's already planned on taking the BatWing the fuck to that Tower.
"I'm taking the to Titan's Tower." Dick just sighs at him because, well, some minds. And B is throwing on a hoodie to go with his jeans, "Jason, Damian, you need to recuperate-"
"No fucking way, B. You're going to Baby Bird, I want in."
"I am coming as well."
Dick just motions to himself, ready to rock, arms crossed over his chest.
And B sighs, "he may take it…badly if we all show."
"He may take it that we all had some realizations with this little trip in holy shit land," Jason counters, already throwing his holsters and jacket on over his t-shirt.
B broods about it for another few minutes. "We assess. No rushing him." And the Dark Knight turns abruptly, leading the way for his sons to follow.
"That's why you're the best," Dick calls after him.
"And we are seriously getting that little asshole pizza, so you'd better pull over, B." Jason insists, grabbing hold of Dami's collar to unnecessarily drag him along.
Kon, however, is pretty fucking unimpressed with the civilian Batfamily showing up in the Common Room of the Tower. If this had been a catastrophe! He would have deferred to the older Bats and probably been the good little mindless soldier he used to needle Red for being, but…but the four of them are just regular people right now.
"Look, Blue, this ain't some—" Hood starts out, holding one empty hand out while the other holds the pies above his shoulder.
"Don't care, man. You got a crime thing, fine, but if you don't then I'm not bothering him, and no way are you're getting up there otherwise."
The sharp blue eyes of Br—Batman (wow, he is never going to be able to call that guy by his name) are assessing.
Damian's expression is very unhappy with that answer, "I am able to fit through the vents, you know."
Kon shrugs mildly, "good luck with the pressure traps. You might find most of them. Maybe. Red's good like that, you know."
"I would risk it," Damian replies seriously, like dead serious, and Kon just stares because what the fuck?
"He's been locked down since he got back," spills out of his mouth before he can figure out why he's telling them shit, "the Tower sent a text when he got back to his Perch. He hasn't been answering my comms, so that's why I'm here."
Now, there's a whole lot of worried glances, even the mother-fucking-Batman looks worried.
Holy shit, am I still in the other world or something? Kon's eyes go to Jason Todd, but hey, green eyes. Okay…
"He could still be hurt," Batman without the suit is saying to his sons, "or moving into sepsis."
"We need to get in there, that's the point." Jason is saying, already eyes the vents and the stairs up to the top floor.
Damian is moving the windows, assessing the security measures. Dick Grayson going to the computer system to check the protocols for lockdown. Kon is just staring, his eyes moving from one Bat to the others.
"Ah… I could com him if you wanted," but Kon has a whole lot of feeling this will do nothing to the 'break the Tower to get to Red' plan already forming with the Batfam. "He's probably not going to answer, but…he'll be able to hear you."
The four converge as a group, standing together with a purpose. Batman gives him a nod.
Kon hits the intercom and very pointedly walks to the elevator.
In turn, each of the family say their piece, keeping it short but heartfelt, wanting to say so much more but not until it can be said in person.
Damian goes last, his whole body taunt, but the words come so easy, easier than he might have imaged.
"—and I…Drake, I want to be that man, the one that can also call you brother. I…am sorry I did not believe in you before. I am sorry I could not take you at your word, that I did not realize…" And the kid's voice shakes just enough for Dick to gently lay a hand to his shoulder. "This…this is why we are here, now. We have…a request of you. Only, Timothy, hear us out on this. Please…just give us this opportunity to talk."
And who knows what happens in that perch or what might have been going on because in Jason Todd's mind, he sees the whip out of his peripheral, sees himself beating up a teenage kid that idolized him; Damian Wayne fears the worst, that they may be too late and the gun he's seen in those hands has already done the job; Dick Grayson hates himself for failing his little brother so completely, letting things like his very "unbrotherly" feelings freak him out enough that he pushed the kid he's loved for years further down the line into someone that didn't even care if he lived or died. And Bruce Wayne, the Batman, has a mixture of all these things churning in his gut, angry that he's failed the Robin he swore he wouldn't, worried that this suicidal tendency may have reared up quickly, before anyone could save his son, and staunch determination that should Tim give them this chance, it would never happen to him, to any of them again. He and the Batman would bust ass to make sure their family stayed together.
However, for whatever reason (maybe the Tim Drake of this world just believes this is an intel run and the bullshit is lip service to get into his perch), the gender neutral voice cuts across the room stifling in regret and renewed purpose:
"Lock-down withdrawn."
The four Bats look at one another before Jason Todd picks up the pizzas and gives a nod to the stairs. With determination, something just as important as the mission, they move as a single unit to go upstairs and start the road to win back a son and a brother.
Epilogue: A year later.
"All right. That's the last of it."
The cadence just cuts right through his concentration and the screwdriver slips enough to snag his finger.
"Ow, fuck." He shoves the digit in his mouth, straightening up from the motherboards and circuitry in front of him. His spine emits a series of cracks as a testament to how long he's been hunched over.
The bigger hand in his vision pulls his hand up, and B looks at the finger clinically before giving it back.
"I've seen you with worse," the Bat shrugs, looking much younger in a grease stained T-shirt and sweats, dark smudges all over his face and forearms.
Tim just quirks a brow, "ditto, you know." He stands up from the workbench and turns to look at the sleek ride still up on ramps, and…damn, he is impressed.
"Wow…I still can't believe that used to be the Red Bird."
B follows a pace behind him while Tim walks around the ghost of his old work car, impressed with the new look and feel, the new design, the hard work, thought, and effort B apparently put into it.
"You can still call it the Red Bird, Tim. It's yours you know."
And, yeah. They'd had this particular conversation months ago, a topic out of nowhere when B started on about motherboards and how much he hated Nav systems.
Tim had graciously offered to reprogram the BatMobile if it got fried. B told him he was remodeling the Red Bird for his Red Robin persona, adding more toys and height (since, well, growth spurt), and Tim had just stared. When he brought the damn thing back to the Cave almost two years ago, he'd assumed B would want it for Dami, the new Robin. He'd never thought this would be a thing.
"You need a work car again."
"I ride the Ducati, nor do I have one with the Titans, B."
"The Ducati cannot have autopilot to get you to one of us or the Cave if you get injured. You need a car, Tim. Also, the mass of your Titans can fly, I know they can get you somewhere faster than a car."
" Oh. Ah, well—"
"It doesn't have to be the Red Bird. I can build one from scratch if—"
"Not the issue, B. Dami—"
"I built the Red Bird for you, not for Damian."
"I see. Then…I guess I'm going to wire the motherboards for it."
"Glad you see reason. I would do it myself, but you would just reprogram it anyway. Might as well fix it to your specs in the first place."
"Sound plan."
In the here and now, well, the car is a whole lot of new and old rolled up into one, and Bruce is watching his expression to make sure he's genuinely pleased. He is.
"All right, break time you two!" Dick is in the doorway when they turn, his grin wide. "That's enough blowing shit up before patrol. Alfred made pizza." And oh yeah, there's a whole lot of reverence in Dick's tone because Alfred pizza is next to mana (ask Cassie, she'll totally vouch).
B arches a brow, "we blow things up for testing purposes, Dick. That's it."
"Uh-hu, like I would ever really believe that, Bruce."
"You never complain when Jason does it."
"He has special needs. Trying to be supportive here."
"I see." And no, he and B aren't exchanging glances and biting their lips to not laugh. Nope, not laughing at Dick's silly ass.
And as they follow him, still talking about the car, they aren't laughing at his hysterical antics of flipping behind them just to goose the two into walking faster through the Cave because Alfred pizza (dammit, Dick, don't grab my ass in front of—oh, well, grabbing his ass too kind of makes that moot). When they hit the main area, Jason is standing from his work bench, stretching, and Dami finishing up the last pages of the new case file, the one of which Tim will be drilling him on later when they hit the rooftops to do the leg work. They, as well, obviously got the call (and if Jason's eyes are a little softer when they fall on him, well, he just hopes B still hasn't noticed because wouldn't that be awkward, both older sons…?).
But Dick doesn't stop for a second, herding the lot of them toward the big steps…when B freezes in mid-step, his head snap around, and the rest of them freeze. The charge in the air is electric, and holy shit, get ready for whatever the fuck might be coming takes hold of all the Bats, the four scattering with speed and precision, with knowledge of how the others fight and where the weaknesses may be. They move as a team.
The short list slightly comes into play as Tim calculates what the hell might be happening, hands tightening on the bow with a whole lot of tricks in the other.
But…
"Fucking WHAT?"
Tumbling on the Cave floor, the four other Bats are smashing the shit out of each other.
"Get off!"
"Ow, ow, ow. God, you're heavy. What the hell are you eating?"
"Smart ass, that's my bo."
"Don't believe you," in a sing-song tone.
"Robin, I want to keep my liver. Move your elbow."
"I swear, I cannot take you three anywhere!" The shortest, dressed in a version of the Red Robin costume, shoves himself up through the other three bodies to get to his feet and look around.
Tim's mouth falls open, eyes HUGE. "No. Way."
The other Red Hood perks up from straddling a Nightwing with accents of red rather than blue. "Hey! We might have made it, Big Wing! I think that's the same Timmers!"
"Of course we made it," the other Red Robin is probably rolling his eyes behind that domino, "I checked the coordinates three times. This is the right place."
Tim holds his bo out in front of him, "what was the code used to reprogram the whirlybirds?"
"Pfft," Red crosses his arms over his chest and rattles off an impressive array of numbers.
"Correct," Tim slowly relaxes, his bo vanishing somewhere, even in civvies. "Wow, welcome back."
His Jason, Dami, Dick, and B relax in degrees as the Other Bats make their way across the Cave floor to greet him, pulling off dominos and helmets (that Jason's eyes are still blue…but, well, so are his Jason's now). The three tallest pick him up like a damn stuffed animal for hugs and laughter while their Red grins up at him.
"So? How is world building?"
"The main cities are all up and running," the other Dick with the new Nightwing costume smiles down at him and just, yeah, yeah he can see the guy is doing well. "The outlands are still somewhat problematic, but the JLA and other teams are still working on it. The world is…brighter."
"Much of the population has been restored as the ships were mainly full of survivors," old Dami is just looking down at him, surpassing even this world's Tim Drake in height (sigh, matter of time).
"And those alien assholes are in a whole bunch of trouble with big space counsel or whatever for invading our world," Jason adds, "so natch, they're in some far away space prison serving out a millennia or some shit."
And Tim, his eyes slide to his Jason, feeling the palm of the hand against the small of his back while his Dick stands a little too close to his shoulder on the other side (please, you two, we're not trying to give B an ulcer here, World's Greatest Detective, remember? But, of course they don't give a shit anyway) while Damian puts himself in front of Tim to listen as well. Just…just these guys, right?
"I hope they rot," his Jason answers with a smirk.
The other one returns the look, "me too, guy. Fuck their mind shit."
It's so nice the two can share a fist bump over invading aliens and a whole lot of ass kicking. Really. Just, bonding things.
"Sir. Lunch is ready." Alfred calls down from the top of the stairs and gets an eye full of Multi-Bats. "Hm. Seems I shall need to make more pizza. Very good then. Pepperoni and mushrooms for Master Jason, pineapple, ham, and olives for Master Timothy, Vegetables for Master Damian, and jalapenos, sausage, and tomatoes for Master Dick?"
The other Bats just stare, "Alfred, you are so the man. Doesn't matter which universe."
"Of course, Master Jason the second. I will begin preparations immediately. Do wash up before dinner."
The snickers and exchanged glances are well met. B waves them on up the big steps, wanting to hear all about the rebuild effort as well as any assistance they may still need while the two Damians share a tight nod and walk side-by-side (the Robin costume closer to his Dami's now, hooded cloak, different boots and tights), both Jasons are exchanging dead Robin jokes (you morbid fuckers, get over it), and his Dick pats him gently on the ass with a wink where no one but the other Dick can see. He and the other Dick Grayson have a few spare minutes with the ruckus heading upstairs.
And those eyes…Tim sighs a little, happy with the result.
"Are you okay?" The hands come up to his arms, gripping lightly. "We came back in case…they weren't good to you. If you wanted…well, you know already."
But he smiles widely, his eyes full of fondness and mirth. "I know," and he reaches up, thumb swiping over that jaw, one that his hands have already memorized from a whole lot of nights and mornings. "I appreciate it, really, but we're, ah, we're good."
The implications are there in the way his face heats a little, going somewhat pink at the revelation. The other Dick suddenly smiles and throws back his head to laugh with the same cadence his Dick does, and God, it's so good to know this man can laugh like that again.
"I'm so…relieved." When he calms a little, this Dick leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead. "Damn, I'm relieved."
"It…I didn't make it easy on them, you know? Any of them. My team and I might have punked them a few times in the interim." He shrugs with a grin, "totally worth it."
Dick turns him with a hand still on his arm, walking with him to the big stairs. "I want to hear all about it. I hope you made them suffer."
And as the two exchange an evil grin, eyes twinkling in shared mirth, the Dick and Jason from this world are waiting at the top of the steps for him, their eyes soft and warm, and just, shit, life…life is good.
A/N: So, Dami's little "we have a request for you" is supposed to (kind of, maybe?) intersect with "Coffee" if anyone is wondering where that comes it. And now… I'm going to die for a few days and get back to Fracture as well as Forward Momentum. Hope this was a nice little diversion for you too ;)
Feel free to me how your opinions and whatnot, you know I'm all about it.
