WOOHOO, FINALLY.
CHAPTER 4
-2007-
Dr. Nichols gaped as Robin set down the last of the boxes. "How in the world did you acquire these materials—"
"It doesn't matter," Batman said shortly.
Nichols stared between them in awe, and then nodded. "No, no I suppose it doesn't."
"You have less than four days," Batman growled, and he turned away, marching for the door.
Robin scowled, deciding Bruce could go do whatever it was he needed to do on his own. Attend a gala, trade some stocks, be an asshole, etc.
"Do you need any help, professor?" Dick asked calmly.
The man laughed incredulously. "That is an understatement. But I don't suppose you know anything about relativity and mechanical engineering?"
He shrugged. "I'm pretty good at math?"
Nichols laughed again, although it sounded a little insane. His hands ghosted over the different wrenches and tools, but he couldn't find what he was looking for, murmuring something about a lack of organization.
"I'm a quick learner," Robin insisted, offering one of the screwdrivers lying on the floor behind them. "I might surprise you."
Nichols sighed, accepting the tool. He met Robin's eyes—the sincere slits in his mask—and he nodded.
"Alright. You can start by unpacking all those boxes."
OoO
Dick needed to check in on the circus climate, and specifically, Tony Zucco's role in the upcoming performance.
But he needed a disguise. A better disguise than his Robin uniform, especially with his younger, impressionable self wandering about.
He needed to blend in, so he wore a simple white t-shirt over the black pants of his Robin getup, typical practice attire for his gymnastics routine. Then he painted his face white, with two black holes around his eyes.
He sort of looked like the Babadook, but at least no one would recognize him this way.
He asked some of the staff lounging around the animal cages if the men in suits had returned to harass Haly.
He received several shrugs and a few have we met's?.
He supposed only two people knew everything about everything at the circus.
Jack Haly, and himself.
And the circus owner would most definitely realize Dick did not work there. That only left him with one option:
To break the number one rule of time travel.
He sighed pathetically, heading off to the big top.
Inside, the light was dim, and he could hear the slap of powdered hands against steel. The soft grunts.
He stood there for a moment, taking in the picture.
His doppelganger twisted gracefully on the trapeze, spinning and leaping and flipping.
Dick smiled to himself.
He was pretty good back then.
The younger Dick landed on the platform, panting softly, before raising his hands above his head and bowing to an empty audience.
"Not bad," Dick said, and the boy started, staring down at him. "But you need to keep your knees in tight to get that last flip in."
The boy glanced at him curiously. "You think I can get the fourth in?"
"Practice makes perfect."
His younger self hummed, climbing down the ladder. "Who are you anyway? I haven't seen you before."
"I'm new. From here in Gotham. Haly offered me a routine for this weekend."
"Oh, neat. What do you do?"
"I'm an aerialist."
"Really? Me too."
Dick chuckled. "Small world."
"Well. I'm Richard Grayson. But my friends call me Dick."
"Nice to meet you, Dick."
He didn't offer his name. He was no one. He needed to be no one, especially here, at the collision of two timelines.
The younger version of himself watched on with interest, staying at the base of the trapeze, like he could sense Dick didn't want him to approach. Still, blue eyes studied him curiously, and it was unnerving.
"You know…I actually need to ask you something," Dick said, as casually as he could muster. "Do you remember that man who came here last weekend? The one who threatened Haly about protection money?"
A shadow passed over the boy's face. "I remember."
"Has he come back? Has he made any other threats?"
"No. He and his stupid goons have stayed away."
Damn. If Zucco was serious about the money, he would have returned to press the matter, wouldn't he? He had a whole additional week to convince Haly to cave. He should have paid a visit by now…done something.
"Why do you ask?" Young Dick asked suspiciously.
"I'm worried. They're bad news."
"I think so too. But Mom says Gotham folk are just like that. Posing empty threats. Trying to export money."
"Extort," Dick offered, smiling softly.
"Oh, right. Extort." The boy pursed his lips together. "You don't think they're going to take revenge? For us, like, not paying them?"
Dick cringed internally. Yes. That's exactly what's going to happen.
"No. I'm sure we're just overthinking things. Your mom is probably right." He glanced at the sun, setting behind the city. "Well, thanks, kid. I'll be seeing you."
Young Dick smiled. "Later."
I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what you're about to go through, Dick thought, glancing back at the small boy. The happiness etched on his face. But it will be okay in the end.
I promise.
OoO
"I'm gonna make them pay."
"Oh shut up, Zucco. You failed. The circus ain't buying shit. Forget them."
Dick peered through the vent, taking in the scene below. Zucco sat in the company of six other men at a private bar, the cigar smoke settling like a film over the room.
This was the nest. Robin was one gas bomb and a phone call away from preventing countless murders and crimes, and enough future heartache to last him a lifetime.
But he was only here to observe. Simply breathing the same air as Zucco was reckless enough as is.
"Forget them? That son of a bitch can't talk to me the way he did and get away with it. Or that shitty kid and his gypsy parents."
Dick remembered when Zucco had come to the circus the first time, demanding Haly buy insurance. Insisting that anything could happen, and it was best to be proactive. Haly had been particularly cold to the mouth-breather, fueling Zucco's anger and propelling the boss to spit more blatant threats. Dick's father had stepped in and ordered the boss off the property.
If only he'd known he'd made victims of his entire family by doing so.
"Give it a rest, Zucco. There's other fish to fry. Don't waste your time with circus rats. They'd probably pay you in tarot cards anyway."
A few cackles.
"I guess you just don't have it in you, Tony. You've lost your edge," another said, egging him on. Zucco kicked him off his stool with little effort.
"To be fair, it's pretty hard to scare a bunch of circus freaks. They walk on wires and eat swords and shit."
More laughter.
Zucco snarled. "I don't like walking away from unfinished business."
"The business was short-lived anyway. They're only here for one more week."
Zucco took a swig from his mug, licking the foam from his lips.
"Maybe you're right."
Dick felt his heart leap into his throat and then plunge to the deepest pits of his stomach, like a free-fall ride at the carnival.
He crawled back through the air shaft, kicking open the grate and jumping outside, gulping in the smell of poverty and cigarettes.
Don't panic. It'll be fine.
Zucco would never give in like that, right?
Don't panic.
But as he glanced down at his hand, he watched it flicker in and out of opacity.
Solid, then translucent. Material, then thin as air.
He was disappearing.
OoO
Dick was stressed out of his goddamn mind.
He'd screwed up the timeline. He had to fix it. Put it back together. And then he had to find a way back.
In three days.
And he was betting everything on the chance that Zucco would pull the same stunt.
But what if the crime lord targeted another act? Or what if he didn't show at all? He'd sounded resigned at the club. Maybe he'd forfeited.
And what would happen to Dick if that were the case? If he never became Robin, and he never traveled here, to this point in time, would he disappear completely? Would this timeline disappear too?
He didn't entirely understand all of the time travel paradox crap, but he was pretty sure he and an alternate future could not exist simultaneously.
Something had to vanish, and all fingers were pointing at him.
He threaded his fingers through his hair, tugging tightly as he paced his room.
It was empty. Void of his belongings, his posters, his presence. Even when Bruce had brought him here for the first time, the room had been transformed for a kid—the bedspread had been Justice League themed, Bruce had bought him a huge TV and PlayStation, there had been stuffed animals and action figures of every sort, because Bruce hadn't known what he liked, but he'd wanted him to feel comfortable, so he'd bought him everything.
The tears welled in his eyes, and he tried to remember how to breathe.
He'd been through shit way worse than this before. Two-Face. Joker. Scarecrow. He'd faced demons beyond the comprehension of other children.
But…this?
The fear of losing his old life? The life he'd finally grown accustomed to. The people he'd met and befriended. The Bruce that bought him too many toys?
He could lose it. All of it.
Just like he'd lost his parents and his whole cultural identity to greed and pride.
The first eight years of his life had been erased. Then he'd had to start over.
He didn't have the strength to do that all again.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and wiped his hand over his eyes.
He couldn't lose his grip. Not now.
But clearly, sleep was not an alternative. He was too wired to lie down.
Deciding that perhaps a walk down to the study would serve him good, he crept down the stairs. It was only when he reached the room that he noticed the soft light seeping out from the bottom of the door.
Frowning, he pushed the door open.
Bruce was sitting back in his office chair, a book in one hand, and his eyes shut to the world.
Dick chuckled softly.
Well this was a rare sight.
Quietly, he slipped the book out of his mentor's grip, setting it down gently on the desk. Glancing around, he found an old blanket folded on the armchair of the couch, and he draped it over the sleeping man's torso.
Smiling a little, Dick backed away and curled up on the couch with one of the many books he'd read as part of his thorough education in criminal justice, forensics, biology, and computer science.
Okay, so not really your typical bed-time story, but it would make him feel a little less…out of place.
OoO
Batman drove his fist into the man's face, again, again, the contact breaking open his knuckles.
He knew he'd spilled too much blood—he could feel it, thick and wet against the man's cheekbones.
But he was so angry. Hateful. He wasn't even sure why. But he couldn't stop.
He didn't want to.
He yanked the criminal into the street light, and he stiffened at the sight.
Two dark eyes and a bloody cowl stared back at him, a smirk blooming at the corner of his mouth.
Bruce dropped the twin, watching him smack the concrete in a muted kind of horror.
"What have you become?" the doppelganger croaked, coughing up blood.
Batman swallowed thickly. "Who are you?"
The man spat red liquid, laughing weakly.
"I'm the idea of you. I'm what you've lost along the way. Or maybe what you've never even found."
Batman shook his head, blinking hard to rid himself of the picture.
When he opened them again, Robin had taken his clone's place.
Bloody, broken, and disappointed.
"You're not Batman," he said, with the utmost conviction. "You never were."
OoO
Bruce started.
He always seemed to jerk awake these days.
It was never a pleasant withdrawal from sleep. He couldn't remember the last time he'd come to when he wasn't ready for a fight.
He blinked, confused momentarily about the dim light in the room. Then he recalled what he'd been doing just before he'd nodded off.
He sat up, frowning down at the blanket on his chest.
Alfred? Up already?
Strange.
Then he zeroed in on the presence of the boy, sitting on the couch, reading The Anatomy of Motive like it was perfectly normal for a 13-year-old to read about sociopaths at 4:00 am.
There was a line of questions fighting for verbalization, but the first that popped out of his mouth was, "Do you not sleep in the future either?"
Robin smirked. "It's the time difference…it's throwing me off."
Ha.
So the kid had a terrible sense of humor.
He had a feeling he and Clark would get along.
Bruce rubbed his eyes and stood, walking over to the boy.
"Why are you in here?"
Robin shrugged.
Bruce stared down at him, recognizing the nervous tapping of the boy's heel against the cushion. "You're worried. About getting home."
Robin finally looked at him, hiding behind a stoic gaze, a reflection.
"I've been trying to be hopeful," he admitted. "But there's a lot that's just…stacking up against me."
Bruce sighed, and after a mental discourse, he sat down beside the teen, surprising both of them.
"I don't think that's true."
Robin shook his head. "Nichols is pressed for time. The machine's coming together, but he's not even sure it will work. The rest…I don't know if the same events will even take place. What if I screwed this up for good? What if I failed?"
Robin looked at him, and this time, the fear was written across his face.
Bruce was reminded again that this was just a young boy. A kid. Lost in time. Separated from the life he knew, and unsure if he'd ever return. That wasn't something he could fight with his fists.
"The thing is, Robin, time wants to follow the paved road. It has a plan. A course of action. That's why when we deviate from our destinies, fate has a funny way of self-correcting."
Robin's brows furrowed.
"What I'm trying to say is…whatever you changed...time is in on your side," Bruce said, resting his hand on the boy's shoulder. He was glad to see it offered some form of solace to him. "Time wants to be fixed."
The boy glanced up at him, hopeful. "You really think we can do this?"
"I do," he said, and he meant it. "Besides. From what I've gathered, we've worked together before. And it sounds like we make a pretty good team."
Robin chuckled, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. "You have no idea."
Bruce suggested surprising Alfred with chocolate chip pancakes, and Robin's face lit up with joy. It tugged at something on the inside, a piece of him he'd long presumed broken and numb.
Maybe the kid wasn't superhuman, but he was sure as hell unlike anything he'd seen before.
Sorry this took forever, but thank you for all the support! It pushed me to finally finish this chapter.
I swear this is the best fandom to write for, 100%.