Wednesday
Watchtower
Robin had gone home to bed hours ago. Nightwing had stuck around on the pretense of continuing his investigation but, in reality, he had an apology of his own to make. He wasn't looking forward to it. Humility was not one of his strong points. Aside from that, he felt that the apology would necessarily be a hollow one, perhaps meaningless even. But it had to be offered, if only to clear his conscience.
He asked the watchtower computer to inform him when Superboy arrived. He didn't know where Superboy was, or what he'd been doing and frankly he didn't care. Superboy had as much right to a life, or nightlife, as any of them.
When the message popped up on screen that Superboy had returned, Nightwing left the terminal he'd been working at. The computer could keep running tests without him for a few minutes.
"We need to talk,"
Superboy didn't look surprised by Nightwing's presence or his words. This wasn't the first time Nightwing and he had conversed privately to clear the air between them. Both of them knew the inherent danger of becoming alienated from one another. During a mission, their lives depended on each other, on their faith that the other would do their job, their trust in their team mates to protect them in times of danger. Even a slight hesitation, the slightest unease, could be lethal.
"I'd like to apologize for keeping secrets from you, from the rest of the team," Nightwing began when they'd returned to the room where he'd been running scans.
He didn't glance at the computer. They were here for privacy, not so he could multitask.
"But I can't," he went on "I've always done what I thought was the right thing. Even if it proved to be the wrong choice in the end, the information I had at the time gave me no other option,"
"It's in your training to be distrustful and secretive," Superboy said, shrugging "and in your nature,"
Nightwing dipped his head, acknowledging this.
"I can't promise it won't happen again, as much as I would like to," Nightwing continued "it's not that I don't trust you,"
"But you don't trust anybody," Superboy interrupted "not even Batman himself,"
Again Nightwing agreed.
"But it's not in the way you might think," Nightwing told him "In a fight, there's no one I trust more. I trust the you, and the team, to get the job done, to finish the mission. To... save the world,"
"Then why do you keep things from us?. Especially those of us who've known you since the beginning?," Superboy asked.
Nightwing thought suddenly of the secret he was keeping, even now, from Batman himself. What would that secret cost him?. Who would get caught in the crossfire of that one?.
"As you said, it's in my nature," Nightwing replied calmly "Why do you think I wear the mask?. Why do you think I go by the name 'Nightwing'?. It's all about secrets, all of it,"
"I suppose that's true, if you look at it that way. But you keep more secrets than anybody I've ever known, including others who wear masks,"
"You were born from a lie," Nightwing said "and so you want the truth. You hate secrets. And I'm sorry, but there will always be secrets I will keep. All my cards will never be on the table,"
"It's all just a game to you, isn't it?," Superboy exploded without warning "different levels, different objectives. You were Robin, now you're Nightwing. What, someday you'll be Batman?. Everything in the world is just a piece to be moved on the board to get you where you want to go. Oh yes, you've grown more serious on the outside, but inside you're still playing games just like you were five years ago,"
"Say that's true, is there anything wrong with it?. If you get killed, game over. If the mission fails, game over. And you know I hate to lose,"
Superboy was momentarily speechless, which gave Nightwing the chance to go on the offensive. But he didn't. That wasn't the point. Not right now.
"I will apologize if it makes you feel better. I was wrong,"
"What difference does it make if you'll just do it again?,"
"I guess it doesn't make any difference at all," Nightwing said quietly, a bit sadly too.
"So are we done here?," Superboy asked.
"I guess so,"
"Good," Superboy turned on his heel and left.
Nightwing sank into a chair, sighing heavily and pinching the bridge of his nose. If anything, that had made things worse. Much worse. But it could hardly have gone differently. After all, the apology would have meant nothing had it been accompanied by lies and false assurances.
Superboy would either accept Nightwing as he was or not. Right now, it was looking a lot like not.
Gotham High
Tim managed to avoid Darren on the way into school, and to keep clear of him between classes, though he couldn't entirely ignore the stares of intense loathing he received from Darren and his friends during their classes together. Nor could he completely disregard the body slam one of them hit him with during football practice.
And then, of course, there was after school. The gang was all there as he exited the school, and they shadowed him off the grounds as he walked home. They thought they were being sneaky, or maybe that they were making him nervous, as he had made them that night as Robin. But neither was true. He knew exactly where they were, and also what he could do to them if he had to.
Half a mile from school, Darren cut around and got ahead of Tim. Tim had thought about just disappearing, but then there would be tomorrow too. And the day after that. He couldn't avoid them forever and still stay in school.
When Darren appeared, Tim readied himself to fight, again sliding the backpack off his shoulder.
"Whoa, hey, we don't want trouble," Darren said.
Apparently, he'd finally learned his lesson about trying to take Tim by force. He couldn't lay hand on Tim. Not if Tim didn't want him to. And now he wanted something Tim had, wanted it desperately.
"You should have thought of that before you came after me," Tim retorted sharply "before you started picking on little kids. Before getting involved in drugs,"
"Sure, whatever," Darren dismissed the words immediately "just give the drugs back. I need them. You gotta understand, they'll kill me if I don't come through with the money,"
"Yeah, and none of our parents leave that kinda dough lying around," chimed in another boy.
"You know why I can't give them back," Tim told Darren, ignoring his friends.
"What'll it take, huh?. I mean, you must want something. Come on, man, we can work this out,"
"I want nothing from you. I can't be bought," Tim said.
He shifted his weight, feeling that a fight must now be inevitable.
"Think it over," Darren said, standing aside "I'll talk to you tomorrow, maybe we can work out an arrangement that's beneficial for the both of us. I mean, you'd have gone to the cops if you were really concerned about the drugs, and we both know it,"
I don't need the police to take care of my problems, Tim thought. Really, he fully intended to contact them as soon as possible, but not before finding out where the stuff was made. It had to be cut at the source, otherwise it wouldn't get them anywhere.
Tim walked forward until he was even with Darren, then he turned to look the other boy in the eye.
"Believe it or not, I'm trying to help you," Tim told him, voice low "you have no idea how deep you're in. You're drowning, Darren, and I can't save you. Only you can. All I can do is offer you a lifeline. It's up to you to take it,"
"What lifeline!?," Darren demanded.
Tim just looked at him, then walked on, ignoring the question which was shouted after him repeatedly.
Watchtower
"You're still here?," Robin was startled "don't you ever sleep?,"
"Hmm?. I slept for awhile," Nightwing replied, looking up from his most recent series of tests.
"Yeah?. When?," Robin crossed his arms.
"Some of the tests took a few hours to run. I took a nap on the floor,"
"You're as bad as Batman," Robin laughed, shaking his head.
"Well that's just mean," Nightwing retorted "so, you talk to Wonder Girl?,"
"Yeah. You were right. She wasn't mad anymore. She understood stuff was going on and I wasn't really myself,"
"You didn't get defensive did you?," Nightwing asked.
"No," Robin replied honestly "there wasn't anything to defend. There wasn't any good reason for talking to her like I did,"
"Good," Nightwing said "now pull up a chair and take a look at this,"
Robin did as he was instructed, then let out a sharp whistle.
"I might've known," he murmured.
"So you do see what I see," Nightwing sighed "I was afraid the lack of sleep was catching up with me and wanted to be sure,"
"It's Joker's signature formula alright," Robin told him "I guess I wasn't exaggerating when I called it poison,"
"That's sure what I call it," Nightwing agreed "those kids are in even bigger trouble than they realize,"
"No kidding. Turn the city's kids into frozen smiling bodies and make a few bucks doing it. Definitely Joker style," Robin nodded thoughtfully "so how do we play this?,"
"If it were just a random low life, I'd say give the drugs to the police and wait for another drop. But this is Joker, which means he's not in Arkham where he belongs. Which means he's loose on the streets. He'll be coming to find out why he hasn't gotten his money, or his handiwork in the news,"
"Wait, are you suggesting Darren be used as bait?. Batman would skin us both alive for doing that,"
"He'd be the first to tell you that Joker shouldn't be allowed to run on the street for any length of time," Nightwing paused "Keep a close eye on this kid. As Tim in school, Robin outside of it. I'll be nearby. Call if Joker shows,"
"Oh thanks, you're just loaded with helpful ideas,"
"Hey, I'm not the one who started this stupid ball rolling. It's not my fault it's turned out this way,"
"Why not just send Darren to jail?. It's his backpack, his drugs,"
"Are you kidding?. That's the worst place for him right now. Joker's got friends in there. He'd be dead before Friday. After, yes. He's still buying and using illegal substance, and intending to sell it. But we don't want him dead for it,"
"Right. You're the boss,"
I wish, Nightwing thought, you got me into this.
Thursday
Gotham High
Tim saw trouble before he even reached the school. Darren was standing alone, looking sick. It didn't look like withdrawal, not really. Tim had seen it often enough in his line of work to recognize the symptoms. But there was still a haunted look in the boy's eyes, a paleness that spoke of not sleeping. Darren looked... well... scared sick.
His buddies were somewhere else, which struck Tim as odd, especially as he knew Darren must be waiting for him. Maybe they were lurking somewhere, but Tim doubted it. More likely they intended to show up after school, when there were fewer people around.
Darren saw Tim and straightened up. He was at the top of the stairs, and Tim declined to climb them while he was standing there. Instead he stopped and looked up at Darren. He couldn't help but feel a bit angry. This boy and his problems were forcing Tim's two worlds together and he didn't like it. On one side he was Tim, the other Robin. There was no middle ground. Except now there was.
And it seemed like he was being forced to give up Tim just so he could do Robin's job. Was this why Nightwing had such a knowing look in his eyes lately?. Was this what Nightwing knew?. That there could be Tim, and there could be Robin, but never both?.
"I told you yesterday," Tim said, looking up at Darren, almost seething "I can't be bought,"
"So you said," Darren replied, stepping carefully down the stairs, taking his time, keeping his eyes on Tim as though afraid the younger boy would melt into the background if he looked away.
Little did he know how entirely real that possibility was.
"It's for your own good, and it makes no difference to me whether you believe it or not," Tim backed up a step or two, preferring distance between them.
There were kids flowing onto the property, though the first bell hadn't yet rung. It would any minute now, and then the confrontation would be over. Except it wouldn't. It would never be over, not even if Joker was caught. Darren would still be mad at him, he would still be on the school bully's radar.
"You made a fool of me the other day," Darren said, almost seeming to purr.
He eased towards Tim like a beast tamer, but Tim wouldn't have any of it, taking a step back for each one Darren took forward. Their eyes were locked, and the rest of the world seemed to have disappeared. Tim's training was kicking in. He probably wouldn't even hear the bell now, because it didn't matter. There was just him and Darren and ten feet of space between them.
"I could forget about that," Darren halted his advance a few feet from the stairs, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets "pretend it never happened. We'd never speak to each other again,"
"Sounds fantastic," Tim replied "except for one thing. I can't give you what you want,"
"Why not?,"
Because it's poison and, so help me, I want you to live, you jerk!. But that's not what he said.
"I don't even have it anymore," Tim shrugged indifferently "it's out of my hands,"
"Who did you give it to!?," Darren exploded, starting forward again.
Tim maintained his distance, and his mild demeanor.
I can't tell you without giving up my identity, something I can't do for the likes of you, he thought.
"That's none of your business," Tim replied "you can't have it back, so deal with it,"
"I don't believe you," Darren's tone was suddenly dangerous, and little red flags sprang up in Tim's mind as he realized the existing threat.
He should have seen it coming. Just like everything else. It was a mistake which could cost him his life. Tim closed his eyes briefly and lunged backward. At the same time, Darren pulled his right hand from his pocket, revealing the shining silver of a handgun.
Tim had already vanished from sight, but Darren knew he'd still be around.
"Get back here!," Darren fired a shot into the air.
Students screamed, scattering in all directions. The sound had scared Darren, he'd never shot a gun before. But he steeled himself. He'd prepared for this. He had to get the drugs back, he had to. He looked around wildly, but the world had dissolved into chaos.
Then something hit him from behind, hit him hard.
Darren staggered, fell to his knees. A flash of pain in his wrist informed him that whatever hit him was after the gun. He clutched tight to it and used all his strength to turn, cocking the gun as he went. He hadn't intended to kill, just to frighten.
But then it went off.
For a moment, the world went black as he was consumed by terror. Then he opened his eyes. Kids were still running, screaming, stampeding like frightened cattle. All except one.
Lying on his side, blown back by the force of the bullet's impact, was Tim.
A/N: It was not in the author's original plan to find new and interesting ways to injure Tim (and, to a lesser extent, Dick) in every part of the story. For instance, in the author's head originally, Tim was never injected in Retribution. In the original version of Reinvention they had in their head, Nightwing never became a dragon. And in Reparation, Tim was never meant to be shot until the author just sort of wrote it in on the spur of the moment and it felt right for the story.