"Are you sure this is a good idea?"
Another tumbler clicked into place as Jason carefully worked the lock from where he knelt on the floor. "We need a place to plan this thing out."
"Yes, but Dick's apartment?"
The door clicked open. Jason stood. "Look at it this way. It's the last place they'll look for us. And it's not like either of us has an apartment yet."
Jason had a point, Tim conceded privately as they slipped inside. In a few months when they were both off at college it might be different - that had yet to be entirely settled - but for now . . .
Tim perched uneasily on the edge of Dick's couch. Jason made a beeline for the kitchen and started rooting through the fridge. "So where do you want to hit first? That French place? Somewhere in Gotham to get more info on the prehistory thing? I just kind of assumed you'd want to go to France first since it was the big bone of contention, but I figure you've put more thought into it."
Tim nodded and fiddled with the jump drive in his pocket that held everything he'd managed to figure out so far. "I've found out everything I can about what happened in Gotham's earliest history. Unfortunately, there just isn't much that survived from that time, so whatever data there might have been is gone."
Jason emerged triumphant from the fridge with a box of leftover pizza. "And Bruce would have known that," he pointed out. "So he's probably not counting on us getting too much from that time period."
"Right." Tim hesitated. "If he's going forward in time like we hope, then France is the last known location, and I want to find out what's there as soon as possible. But - "
"Ra's."
"I'd rather he take as long as possible to know we're after Bruce. I don't know what he'll do about it, but I doubt we'll like it."
Jason stuffed a piece of cold pizza in his mouth. "So ideally we'd avoid him as long as possible." He swallowed. "What do you want to do?"
"England," Tim said reluctantly. "We'll start there."
"Suits me. Which just leaves one more problem. Your codename."
Tim winced.
"You could just keep using Robin," Jason pointed out. "It's not like Dick would know."
Tim shook his head. "It's his name. I want to respect that."
Jason shrugged. "Your choice. You got another one in mind?"
"Not . . . really." His mind kept getting stuck on Robin. It was Dick's name, of course it was, but he kept thinking about just how much it had meant when the name had been given to him, and the thought of it being ripped away, in addition to everything else that had happened, made him want to scream.
Jason nodded. He looked strangely nervous. "It might help if you had something similar. It'd be easier to get used to."
It was a good point. Tim still had no ideas.
"You could be, like, Red Robin or something. If you wanted." Jason's shoulders hunched a bit. "I know the name's not exactly as big a deal as Dick's, not nearly as much good history there, but - "
Jason's name. One of the one's the papers had given him during his rampage. Not a name he had been proud of, necessarily, not one he had wanted to keep, but a name he winced to have mentioned. A name it must have cost him something to offer.
Tim swallowed hard. "Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, I'd - I'd like that."
Jason grinned at him. "Cool. So, you get us plane tickets on that phone of yours, and I'll scavenge as much as I can from here. We might have to sneak back into the Cave for some more supplies, but then we can be off."
Tim clung to that word "we."
Fact finding wise, England didn't manage to establish much, but then, Tim hadn't expected it to. You couldn't make out a pattern from the first data point on the map.
It did, however, give them a thread to start from. That, Tim felt, was what they had to focus on.
"So on the bright side, we've now got a description of the man who inspired our bat-knight," Tim said as he ran the hotel's washcloth under the sink and dabbed it carefully to his lip.
"To be fair, we've got three descriptions," Jason pointed out from his spot leaning on the bathroom's doorframe.
"All of which fit Bruce." To be fair, the one that had described him as a fey creature that was half-man, half-bat wasn't strictly accurate, but it was close enough. "And better, we've got a local legend saying he disappeared into thin air after being wounded. If there's some account of him showing up already wounded in France then we'll have some idea of what direction he's moving in." He gave up on his split lip and just pressed the cloth to his forehead in the dim hope that it would do something for his headache.
"Oh, give me that." Jason snatched the washcloth from him and replaced it with an icepack he must have grabbed from the mini-fridge. "All true, but more importantly, what else did we learn today?"
"That competing local legends can cause bar fights?"
"That baby birds should leave the fighting to their elders."
"You're two years older, Jason. Less. You lost half a year."
"Yeah, well, I'm not the one who almost got a concussion courtesy of an eighty year old man."
"What was I supposed to do?" Tim protested. "I couldn't hit him. Besides, what would Alfred say if he could hear you right now?"
Jason paused. "Point. Okay, you don't tell Alfred I said that, and I won't tell anyone you got hit over the head by a geriatric."
Tim grinned a little. "Bruce is going to be a terrifying eighty year old."
Jason squeezed his shoulder. "Yeah," he said like it was a promise. "He will be."
Jason's neck had been prickling ever since they stepped off the train. He was pretty sure Ra's people had been following them for at least that long.
That was the problem with medium sized towns where Ra's had a summer home. It was too easy for the old zombie to have them followed, and everyone important in the town was probably deep in his pocket. Jason just hoped that the librarian they were following around the archive didn't count as important.
The woman came to a stop outside a display case buried in the back. An old diary was propped open inside as well as a couple of official looking documents. "It's a fascinating story that you've chosen for your research project," she said enthusiastically in lightly accented English. "It's quite the local legend. Parents still tell their children that if they're bad, the bat-man will steal them away into the woods."
Tim and Jason shared significant glances.
Jason smiled at her with as much charm as he could muster. "In some of the similar stories we've tracked down, the mythical figure is held to be invulnerable. Is that the case here?"
"Almost, but not quite," she admitted. She tapped the glass right above the journal. "According to the local priest at the time, the creature resisted all attempts at injury until the priest's own staff hit his shoulder. When it touched him, he let out a cry of pain. After that they knew only holy weapons could hurt him."
Jason fought to keep a straight face. Bruce was never going to live this down with they got back. Never.
Even aside from that attraction, a giddy hope kept wanting to steal onto his face. Bruce's shoulder had been injured in England. If the staff had elicited such a reaction here, then it must still have been hurt.
Which meant Bruce was going forward in time.
"Is there any idea of how long the creature may have stayed in the area?" Tim was asking.
The librarian bit her lip. "There's no official consensus, but there are some clues," she admitted. "Mainly in Marie's later writings. Unfortunately, those aren't open to the general public. They're very fragile."
"How would we go about getting permission?" Tim asked.
The librarian launched into a spiel - something about forms and credentials and a lot more time than Jason was really comfortable spending here.
Especially since the prickle on his neck was back and stronger than ever.
A little red dot appeared on the back of the librarian's head.
Jason stepped forward into its path and turned to follow the trajectory.
The beam was coming through the small window, but one of Ra's men was standing in between the narrow shelves. He beckoned imperiously.
Jason nodded tensely and turned back to Tim with a show of checking his watch. "Oh, man, they're going to kill us," he interrupted. Casual, with just a hint of frazzled. We're in trouble, baby bird. "We were supposed to meet with the professor ten minutes ago."
Tim's eyes flicked toward where Jason had just been looking. "Shoot," he said, his voice just a little too calm. "I'm so sorry. We'll have to come back and fill all that out later."
"Any time," the woman assured them.
Jason slung an arm over Tim's shoulders and whispered hurriedly in his ear as he steered them toward the waiting man. "They threatened the civilian. We head with them for now, get out as soon as we can. Got it?"
Tim nodded tightly.
"Good." He squeezed Tim's shoulders and let go, striding forward to meet the waiting man. "Mindless goon thirty-two! Long time no see. How's work been?"
The man's face remained impassive. "My master wishes to see you."
Jason waved him onward. "Then by all means, lead the way."
Jason had figured that the goon was going to lead them out to some form of transportation to take them up to Ra's compound. His plan had been to make a break for it somewhere between Point A and Point B where there weren't many civilians around and then keep running until Ra's stopped following.
Sure enough, there was a car waiting outside.
Somewhat derailing his plan was the fact that Ra's wasn't waiting at the end of the ride. Ra's was sitting in the car to go along with the ride.
Well, Jason had always liked improvising.
It was a fancy car, with two rows of seats in the back that faced each other, so Jason slid into the seat that would let him face Ra's. Tim followed behind. "Good to see you again. You're looking great, ancient as ever. How's the family? You finally get all that fighting sorted out?"
Ra's smiled. Jason really wished he wouldn't. "It's been handled. As for family, I was very sorry to hear about your loss."
Jason blinked at him innocently. "Loss? What loss? Unless you're talking about the motorcycle I crashed, in which case, I don't want to hear about it unless you're paying for it, because I wouldn't have crashed it if not for your ninjas."
"That's not what Dick said," Tim said mildly.
"Yeah, well, Dick doesn't know everything."
Ra's looked amused, which was at least better than the alternative. "Of course I am very sorry to hear that one of my employees inconvenienced your bike, Jason, but I believe you know that I was referring to your father figure."
"Bruce? Bruce is fine. He's on a business trip. All the Gotham tabloids say so."
"The Gotham tabloids do not have the resources I do. Your deception is pitifully thin."
Jason gritted his teeth. "Much like my patience. What do you want, Ra's?"
"I have more right to ask the same of you. That you would come to one of my cities, even after our recent . . . troubles . . . I did not discount as a possibility. But you did not come for me. You're plotting something, son of the Bat."
Tim looked mildly offended that Ra's was assuming that it was Jason who was the mastermind on this expedition. Ra's had a habit of thinking of Bruce's kids as coddled and thus useless until they hit the streets, Jason knew, and he preferred to keep it that way.
"I am plotting something," Jason agreed. "It doesn't really have anything to do with B, though. I've been planning it for a long time."
Ra's looked intrigued. "Oh?"
"Yeah. Ever since you tried to make me kill me Bruce, actually." Jason pulled his arm back for a punch.
Ra's was ready. He had to have been half expecting the move ever since Jason got in the car, and Jason's preceding statement gave him plenty of warning. The old assassin was already moving as Jason pulled his arm back.
But that was okay. Jason knew all that. The important thing was that Ra's had been expecting two things from Jason, violence and escape attempts, and while Ra's was dealing with one, he wouldn't expect the other.
Ra's saw the punch. What he didn't see was the smoke bomb Tim had pulled the pin on and then released, or the way that Jason wasn't really swinging forward for a hit, he was flinging himself towards the door that Tim had quietly unlocked.
Smoke filled the vehicle. Tim and Jason leaped out, rolled to deal with the momentum, and took off running.
They came to a stop only once they were comfortably within the trees that surrounded the town. Tim leaned panting against a tree and wondered if this was where Bruce had taken Marie.
"What do you think the odds are Ra's bugged us?" Jason asked from his spot against his own tree. Unlike Tim, he wasn't at all out of breath, and he looked vaguely smug about it.
Tim scowled at him but thought it through. "Miniscule. He never got the chance."
Jason nodded. "Agreed. Not that it matters, with the whole town in his pocket."
"So we head back," Tim proposed. "Buy the first train ticket out of here and then get on the train."
Jason was the one scowling now, probably at the idea of running, but he didn't shoot it down. "You got everything you needed, then?"
Tim shook his head. "I want to see those writings. I need to figure out if Bruce's rate through time is constant or if it's speeding up."
"So we get on board the train to fool Ra's then hop off at the earliest opportunity and sneak back," Jason concluded. "Not bad, baby bird. Then what, though? Steal the papers? Seems risky since we've already shown interest. 'Wayne Heirs in French Prison' is not a headline I'm interested in."
Tim grinned at him. "We're not going to steal them."
Jason eyed him warily. "First of all, that grin is the second creepiest I've ever seen. Second of all, you put entirely too much emphasis on the word we're."
"Technically," Jason hissed from his place on the bakery roof, "we're still stealing the papers."
"Yes, but now this way, Ra's stole them first," Tim said over the comm.
This was true, Jason had to admit, and it did lower their chances of being caught by the police. And counting on Ra's to be both interested in and willing to steal the documents they'd specifically asked about had been a fairly safe bet.
That didn't change the fact that he still felt like some b-list villain about to try and steal the artifact from Indiana Jones or something.
"Okay, get ready - now! No! Wait!"
Jason jerked his hand back from the grappling hook at the last moment. It didn't take him long to see the source of Tim's warning.
Only one of Ra's men had broken into the museum. One guy, Jason had been confident he could take down.
But back-up was streaming in from somewhere to cover the guy, and this was not in the plan. Not at all.
"I missed something," Tim seethed. "I don't know what - "
"Doesn't matter," Jason interrupted. He surveyed the scene. That was a lot of assassins.
And that was potentially Bruce's life on those papers.
"I can take 'em," he decided.
"Jason, no - "
Jason, yes.
"On the bright side, we did get the papers." Jason felt obligated to point this out.
Tim just kept staring blankly out the window of the car they'd bought.
Well, stolen. But he'd left more than enough money, so - bought without permission?
He'd stick a note on it when they had to leave it.
He kept talking stubbornly onward as he would continue to do until he got a reaction. "And in fairness to myself, I was right. I totally took those guys down. It was just their reinforcements that were a bit much." Thus his aching jaw and possibly a broken rib or two and assorted other minor nastiness that could have been a lot worse.
Tim's white knuckled grip on the seat's armrest got a little tighter.
"So thanks for the assist out there, Red Robin. I appreciate it."
Even tighter. Ha. He was getting warmer.
"I am sorry you had to get pulled into the fight," he said seriously. "I don't want you out there unless you have to. B's going to have my head as it is."
"Do you think I killed him?" Tim managed to get out.
Jason's hands jerked on the wheel, and he had to quickly swerve to get back on the road. "Killed who?" He had a sinking feeling he knew who. "The guy you dropped off a roof?"
Tim flinched. "I didn't drop him," he protested. "I just - I didn't realize we were that close to the edge, and - "
"Oh, hey. Hey, baby bird, don't worry about it. The roof wasn't that high, and I saw him breathing and everything. He's alive."
"He didn't get up," Tim said. "I watched. He didn't get up."
Jason winced. "Yeah. I think he might be paralyzed, to be honest. Broke something at the very least. But he's not dead! And that's the important thing. Lazarus Pit can fix up the rest. Or the dead thing, if it had come to that which it didn't."
Tim relaxed a little. "Right."
Of course, that was assuming Ra's thought he was worth the trouble and didn't just leave him to suffer. Or kill him for failing.
Jason thought he'd keep that bit to himself.
"So. What do we have?" Jason asked when they'd gotten settled into the hotel.
Tim looked up from his translation of the papers. "He stuck around for about two weeks, which is a lot less time than he spent in England."
"Two data points isn't much to go on," Jason pointed out.
"It's not," Tim agreed. "I really wish we could have gotten more from Gotham, but it is what it is. If we can just find one more location, I think I can write an equation to predict when he'll pop up in modern times and how long he'll stay there."
A thick curl of dread twisted in Jason's stomach. "You don't think he'll just come stay here?"
Tim grimaced. "Seems a bit too convenient of Darkseid, don't you think?"
Yeah, Jason had to admit, it did.
"Another thing the equation will give me is a way to estimate how fast the energy Darkseid aimed at him is being used. That might give us an idea of when the time travel will finally come to an end. If the answer, whatever it is, isn't acceptable, then we'll need a way to ground him here."
"And a way to predict the 'where' of his appearance."
"That too," Tim agreed. "But I've already got some ideas for that."
"Cool." Jason plopped down next to him on the bed. "So where's the next stop on our world tour? And have you called your girlfriend this week?"
"Why, and yes."
Jason blinked at him. "Um. Tim? I think why I want to know where we're going is fairly self-explanatory."
Tim grinned back. "Yes, I've called Steph. And we're going to a town called Why."
Jason had to sit there and just appreciate that one for a minute. "A town called Why. It suits Bruce perfectly. I think I've heard him mumble that word even more than I've heard him shout "no." Maybe we should move there. I bet it's nicer than Gotham."
"Most places are nicer than Gotham. Unfortunately, it's also in the middle of nowhere in Arizona."
"Okaaay . . . What's Bruce doing out there?"
Tim's grin stretched wider. "How much do you know of your family history?"
"As in the Todd family history or the Wayne family history? Although I've got to tell you, the answer to both is the same."
"That's what I thought. So it would probably surprise you to know that at one time there was a Wayne who was a bank robber."
"Huh. You think B's going to foil his own family's crime? Get the bad guy before he can soil the family name?"
"Not the bad guy, Jason."
"It was a girl?"
"The sheriff's wife," Tim explained.
Jason whistled. "Well, whatever else they are, the Wayne family's never been boring. So. B did what the sheriff couldn't?"
"That's what it looks like," Tim agreed. "Town records say that it was an outsider who claimed to be from Gotham that finally got her arrested." He hesitated. "It's . . . thin," he admitted. "Thinner than the others. It might not have been Bruce. But the outsider came out of nowhere and didn't stay long at all. He just pops in and out of existence."
"It's worth a shot," Jason said. "If nothing else, there's no way Ra's will expect us to end up there."
"A grave," Tim said blankly.
"Yep," the kid at the reception desk said. "Folks say Anne Wayne cursed him as she was being dragged away, and then he just - " He made a little poofing noise.
"Sounds cool," Jason said. "I don't suppose you could give us directions?"
Tim let Jason drag him out to the dusty cemetery. "I guess it was a dead end after all." He didn't realize what he said until Jason snickered. "Shut up, Jason." His voice had a bit more of a snap to it than he'd intended.
"Yeah, yeah. Come on, kid." Jason steered him over to one of the thicker headstones and plopped him down on it. "I was thinking it was time we had a talk. About your parents."
Tim jerked his arm away from Jason's hold. "So you don't believe me," he spat. "All this time, you were - what? Humoring the crazy guy?"
"I don't confront Ra's to placate crazy guys," Jason said flatly. "Calm down, kid. That's not what I meant. We've found lots of evidence, right? Just because this isn't one of his appearances doesn't mean the rest of them are suddenly faked. I just thought this might be a good opportunity to talk the rest of it out while we've got a breather."
"There's nothing to talk about. They're dead. End of story."
Jason sat down on the ground next to him. "I think you've forgotten who you're talking to, baby bird. I lost my parents too, remember. Mom . . . " His face scrunched up for a moment before he forced it smooth. "She did the best she could, and I won't hear a word against her, but she could have used some help. Willis?" He snorted. "Willis never earned the title of dad. That's Bruce's, now and forever. But I still didn't find out he was dead and feel nothing." He paused. "I mean, admittedly, most of what I was feeling wasn't exactly sorry, but that's not the point."
"Jason."
"That's not your opening up voice. We're talking about this, Tim, whether you like it or not."
"No, Jason, look." Tim hopped to his feet and ran over to the gravestone they'd ostensibly come to look at.
It was surprisingly ornate for an anonymous headstone that held only a date. The top swooped elegantly upward.
Towards where there was a small, admittedly crude but still very clear, statue of a bat.
"What." Jason said flatly. "There's no way. No. Way."
"If he left instructions . . . " Tim's mind was whirring. "He knows."
"What?"
"He knows we're looking for him. Well, not us specifically, but he has to know that someone will have figured it out. He has to hope, anyway, so he's trying to leave clues now that he's getting closer and there's a better chance of us getting it. I bet that's why he held onto the costume for so long despite it making him stand out."
"Because he didn't want to blend in. He wanted to be recorded," Jason said slowly. "Okay. That makes sense. But. Um. The grave."
"Poof," Tim said, echoing the receptionist. "He wasn't dead. He was just gone, maybe in front of a lot of people. Maybe he just faked his death. Either way, I bet it's not a coffin that's down there."
"You think he left another clue."
Tim grinned at him. "Let's go grave robbing."
"Been there. Done that. Got the t-shirt."
"Jason. Just - no."
Jason clapped him on the back. "Don't worry. I'm sure I'll think of plenty more before tonight."
Tim groaned.
"I'm getting dead tired over here."
"Jason."
"Would it kill you to do a bit of the digging?"
"Jason, you've been digging for approximately thirty seconds."
"I already had to dig my way out of a grave. Do I really have to dig my way into one?"
"Jason, trust me. You do not want me holding a shovel right now."
Jason paused for a moment. "I'll give that statement grave consideration."
The good news, as Jason saw it, was that there had been no body, no coffin, and no booby traps. The better news was that there had been a time capsule of sorts full of notes in Bruce's distinctive handwriting that made both of them happy on principle, and Tim happy for their help in his calculations.
Plus, he'd gotten a chance to use some of the puns he'd been saving. That always made for a good night.
But - Most importantly. Bruce was alive. That kept hitting him over and over again. Bruce was alive.
He'd believed Tim, of course he had, but there was a difference between that and in seeing the cramped, obsessively neat figures fill a page.
It might even be enough to convince the others.
So that was the good news.
The bad news was, Tim had finished his calculation.
Which ought to have been good news, but neither of them liked what it had to say.
"Five minutes," Jason said flatly. "We'll have a five minute window to ground him here."
"Give or take a couple of milliseconds."
"Great," Jason said flatly. "How're we going to do that?"
Tim leaned forward. "You know those collars the Justice League has seen used on metahumans sometimes? The ones that are ridiculously good at adapting to all kinds of different powers?"
"You think it would work to block time travel."
"Exactly. Once he's grounded, the Justice League can work out a more permanent solution, assuming the power doesn't just work itself out pounding against the collar."
"Or doesn't break the collar and sending him reeling into the future," Jason felt obligated to point out. He didn't have any better ideas, though. "Okay. Collar it is. Where do we get one?"
Tim winced. "Technically, they're in several locations. Unfortunately, we're working on a limited time schedule here. Bruce is due to show back up soon."
"So . . . "
"So we're breaking into LexCorp."
"I know B may have told you that I used to steal things, but I feel like I should remind you that I stole tires. Not multi-billion dollar tech."
"You're halfway through the security system," Tim pointed out through the comm in what he no doubt thought was a reasonable tone of voice. "Don't you think you should have been complaining about this earlier?"
"I wasn't complaining about this earlier because I was in shock."
"Uh-huh. I've electronically deactivated the next lock for you."
Jason pulled off a move to avoid the lasers that made him wish Dick had been there to see it and dodged through the door into research and development. "Still nothing you can do about the lasers?"
"Sorry."
"'s okay, I'll manage. Or. You know. Die horribly. Again."
"At least we won't have to buy a new tombstone this time."
Jason snickered and stopped at the case he wanted. "You'd better. I want a little bat on mine this time."
"I was thinking more a glass case above the ground in case you pulled another Snow White on us."
Jason began the careful process of using a laser cutter to slice open a hole in the case without setting off one of the sensors. "Huh. I like it. But I still want bats on it. And if I come back a second time, then I want my third headstone to say, 'Third Times the Charm.' With a question mark."
"You have put way too much thought into this, Flame- " Tim cut off. "Hold on. Yes, Batgirl?"
Jason couldn't hear that end of the conversation. Hopefully it wasn't anything too crucial. He was almost through the glass.
"Okay, I'm back." Tim's voice was much tighter than before. "The good news is, the Gotham crew believes us now. The bad news is, that's because even before our notes got to them, Ra's did a little grave robbing of his own. And apparently he dunked the corpse in a Lazarus Pit."
Jason began the careful process of extracting the collar. "And the corpse obviously wasn't B?"
"Oh, it looked like him. It just couldn't control its murderous urges. And they figured - "
"If I could do it, B could do it." Looks like the clone theory won.
His hands were shaking hard enough that he had to pause for a moment in his work.
"Where's the clone now?" Jason asked to buy himself some time.
"They lost track - Flamebird, get out of there. Get out of there now."
A roar came from somewhere in the building. The alarms started blaring.
He froze. "That wasn't me."
"That would be the clone. Ra's must have led him here. Now get out."
With subtlety a lost cause, Jason yanked the collar out and stripped the sensors off as quickly as he could. "Give me a route."
"I'll do my best. Ra's hackers are fighting me. As well as Luthor's."
"Well, fight harder," he hissed as he ran out of the room. "Which way?"
"Up," Tim said. "If you can get into the normal office levels, you can break a window and grapple away."
"Got it."
The tower had turned into a nightmare scape of flashing lights, blaring alarms, and shadows that looked just a little too much like the Batman.
"The cameras have been shut down entirely," Tim said with forced calm. "I'm blind."
He could hear gunshots below and more of that awful roaring. "Just a thought here, are we sure we want Luthor with B's Lazarus soaked DNA?"
The comm was silent for just long enough for Jason to change direction.
"I hate it when you're right," Tim said conversationally. "Ok. I'm five minutes out. I'll try to make it faster."
"Thanks, Red." Jason raced towards the sound of the gunshots released by the increasingly frantic security guards.
Just another fight. He could do this. He could totally do this.
The report in the computer later went something like this: Luthor's guards caused fatal injury to the clone. The clone was safely cremated. Both Flamebird and Red Robin sustained damage in the fight.
That was what Tim had typed up. And that was true. Every last bit of it, even if it was lacking his usual scrupulous detail.
When he thought about it, later, he usually thought about the look on Jason's face when Bruce's fist - not his, not his, but too close, far too close - broke Jason's nose. Or the way the blood had been gushing down from Jason's forehead. Or the screaming in his own mind when the not-Bruce had pinned him to the ground, wrapped his hands around Tim's throat, and squeezed.
When he thought about it, he thought about the way it had felt to hit someone that looked like Bruce and to try and hurt him. He thought about Jason slamming the not-Bruce into a wall, and it twisted into dreams where Ra's plans for Jason and Bruce had worked.
Mostly, though, he thought about the way the guards's bullets had finally ripped through the body armor, and the way not-Bruce had looked lying there. Dead.
He thought about having to carry the body out, and then he just tried not to think at all.
"I've got a date, a time, and a place," Tim told Jason. His voice sounded almost normal.
He couldn't describe how much he wanted things to be back to normal.
Jason looked at the map Tim had shoved at him. "This has two places marked on it."
"Yes," Tim admitted. "The most probable locations are either the place he left from . . . or Gotham."
"And we've only got one collar."
"Right. That's actually okay though, because there's something all of the locations B's shown up in have had in common, and his notes confirm it: He always shows up somewhere with a family connection. So if all of us gather in one place . . . "
"Then we can pull him in. Do we count, or is it just the brat?"
Tim smiled ruefully. "Bruce would say we count. I've no idea what the time stream thinks."
"So better safe than sorry. So - Gotham or the site of the fight? I'm inclined to say the latter just in case something goes wrong."
"Fewer civilians to endanger," Tim agreed. "Assuming we can get the others out there."
"Shouldn't be an issue. They believe us now, right?"
"Right. No problem."
"Houston, we have a problem."
Tim gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. "Batgirl, we're twenty-four hours away from showtime. Now is not a good time for a problem."
"Trust me, I know. That doesn't change the fact that the mini-bat's been kidnapped."
"Ra's," Tim cursed.
"Well, Talia specifically, but, yeah. I don't emthink/em she'll hurt him, but . . . "
"But," Tim agreed. "I assume Nightwing's gone after him."
"Yeah. There've been some pretty nasty threats if any of us leave Gotham for the next little bit."
Tim took a deep breath. "Okay. Is it bad timing, or is Ra's trying to stop us from getting B?"
"I have no idea. What do you want to do?"
Tim threw a glance over to where Jason was sleeping in the passenger seat. "It's okay. Go get the mini-bat. I've got a plan."
Originally, there had been a small town where the Justice League had fought Darkseid. Now it was just a collection of ruined buildings.
There was a spot of scorched earth in front of what had once been a school building. That was where Bruce had been taken.
That was also where Ra's and his men were now gathered.
Jason drew in a sharp breath. "That's going to be a problem," he said, ducking back behind the building they were hiding behind. "Those guys aren't the usual mooks. They're elite. I don't think we can take them on our own."
"Could we if we had Batman with us?" They were in costume, or what passed for costume with Tim, and that meant codenames even though Ra's already knew.
"I'd at least like our odds a lot better, but it's a moot point. We won't emhave/em him with us unless we can get closer. Or do you want to try and get the collar on him in the middle of a fight?"
Tim grimaced. "I don't want to, but we might have to." He scanned what remained of the town around them. "Okay. See the clock tower that's still standing?"
"Yep. Diversion?"
Tim nodded. "You go earn that name of yours. I'll stay here and keep an eye on Ra's."
"Sounds good. Stay safe, baby bird." Jason jogged off in the direction of the clock tower.
Tim waited until he was out of sight before carefully removing the comm from his ear. He didn't smash it. Jason would hear that and run back. He just set it on a piece of rubble.
And started sneaking closer to Ra's.
"I am beginning to think you're a fitting heir to your mentor as a detective, Timothy. As a fighter, however, you still lack his skill."
Considering his face was currently being ground to the dirt by one of Ra's elite, Tim didn't feel like he was in a position to argue.
Ra's paced closer. "You've been busy these last weeks. Hacking into my networks, traveling the globe . . . chasing rumors of a bat. And after the discovery of the clone, I believe I see why. So where is that you believe your mentor is, and how were you planning to retrieve him?"
"Figure it out," Tim spat.
"Mm. Left, I think."
"Wha- " The word turned into a cry of pain as a spike bar of metal crashed into his leg. Something cracked.
"Again."
The bone snapped entirely. Tim didn't bother to hold the scream in.
"I am sorry, Timothy, but it would be terribly inconvenient if you were to run away while we were having our little chat. Now. What do you know?"
Tim struggled to control his breathing. "What - What do you care?"
"Lift him up."
Tim let out another cry as he was hoisted to his feet. His leg screamed at the motion.
Ra's looked him over critically. He traced the line of Tim's jaw with his finger. Tim tried to jerk back, but the arms holding him up tightened around his ribs like a vise.
"You could almost pass for his son," Ra's murmured. He straightened back up. "I care because I have tired of this war with your mentor. It is time for him to come back to the fold and claim the place he was always meant to have."
"And you figured out we'd be here, how?"
"This is turning into a long chat instead of a short one. I begin to fear you still have some hope of stalling long enough to run away. The right now, I think."
"No - " The arms around his ribs disappeared. Tim hit the ground hard, and white hot flare of pain jolted up his leg.
Then the bar crashed down on his other one.
"Bruce!" he half-screamed, half-sobbed.
Come on, Dad. Come on.
The tower went up very satisfyingly. Jason started jogging back. It was getting close to the time Bruce would show up. "Red Robin, how're we doing?"
Nothing.
"Red Robin?"
He had to duck into a side street to avoid Ra's men as they ran past.
"Red Robin."
He caught the tail end of a scream.
He started to run.
Almost there, almost time . . .
Come on, Dad. Come on.
Bruce knew he wouldn't have long. Either someone would have figured it out and would be there waiting for him, or - Or they wouldn't have. If that was the case, then he wasn't going to have many options. He didn't have much time in any period now. If his calculations were right, he'd only have five minutes here.
The timestream felt different this time though. For the first time, it paused for a moment, and he felt tugged in two different directions.
Then one won out, and he was spat out onto a square of scorched earth. He rolled to his feet.
Ra's elite surrounded him. Ra's himself was just ahead.
And there, on the ground, was one of his sons, legs twisted in an unnatural position, chest heaving in broken sobs. There was a sword sticking out of one of his legs, and Ra's was casually twisting it.
Bruce roared.
Jason knew that voice.
He all but flew towards it, hands fumbling for the collar in his belt.
Ra's men were a whirling mass around a dark shadow that had to be Bruce, but Bruce was ripping through them. Jason dove into it, dodging limbs and swords, occasionally getting in a hit, but mostly just going through.
And there was Bruce, for the first time in weeks, but there was no time to celebrate. How long had been here already?
Too long.
Something was creeping up on Bruce's edges. Blurring his outline.
"No!" Jason flung himself forward onto Bruce's back. He slung the collar around Bruce's neck and snapped it shut. "Leave that, you need it!" he shouted to Bruce, and then one of Ra's was on him and there was no more time to talk.
Tim watched the fight as best he could. There wasn't much he could do from his position.
He knew Bruce had gotten broken bones before, had fought with them before, but he hadn't built up the pain tolerance Bruce had. It was taking everything he had not to pass out.
Gradually, the sounds of the fight quieted, and the whirling motion settled into something that didn't make Tim's nausea worse.
"Dad," he heard Jason croak out.
"It's all right, Jay. It's all right. I'm not going anywhere." The voices got closer, and then Bruce was kneeling next to him with an arm still tight around Jason's shoulder. "Tim. Are you - "
"I'm fine," he said. It didn't even entirely sound like a lie. "The plan worked." He was still kind of amazed by that. "It worked, Bruce. You're back."
Bruce's free hand swept back his sweat soaked hair from his face. "I'm back," he promised. "I'm going to pick you up, okay, Tim? I know it's going to hurt but we need to get you out of here."
Tim nodded and tried not to make any noise when Bruce finally let go of Jason and ever so gently picked Tim up.
Jason wasn't quite ready to let that go. "The plan," he said slowly. "No, Timmy, the plan did not work. Unless, of course, you had a different plan? Maybe one you chose not to share?"
Tim buried his head in Bruce's chest and didn't answer. Bruce was back. That was all that mattered.
"Bruce was getting called through time towards family," Jason said in a quiet voice that made Tim shrink back a little bit. "Only it wasn't just family, was it, Tim? It was family in trouble. So since we had the only means to ground Bruce, you had to make sure we were the ones who needed him most. What were you going to do if Ra's hadn't been here, huh?"
"Where is Ra's?" Tim asked desperately.
"He must have gotten away," Bruce said. "I'll deal with him later." The last words were almost a growl. "Tim, please tell me you didn't get yourself caught on purpose."
Tim closed his eyes and refused to talk about it. "You're back," he mumbled. "Doesn't matter."
"Yes," Bruce growled, "it does," but he pressed a kiss to Tim's forehead, so Tim figured it'd be okay.
"Good news. We got Robin back. Any word on . . . ?"
"I thought I had Robin in the backseat of this car."
"Bruce!" Dick's voice cracked in the middle of the name. "You're back. They were right. They were actually right, you're alive."
"Names," Bruce said from long habit, but he softened instantly. "We'll be in Gotham in thirty minutes. I'm back."
Alfred had seen much in his many years of service to the Wayne family.
Watching on the looks on his charges faces as they crashed into Master Bruce was, perhaps, his favorite memory, and if he was a little misty eyed himself, well.
He cleared his throat. "Welcome home, Master Bruce."
Master Bruce rested a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Alfred." Then Alfred found himself a victim of the same crushing hug the children had received.
Well. Perhaps it was called for. Just this once.
They'd been taking turns to sit by Tim's bedside. He was in no danger, but the pain medication meant he slept a lot, and they were all in the mood to stay close.
Which was how Dick found himself giving a report on everything that had happened in Bruce's absence on the edge of Tim's bed while the man himself sat in an armchair beside it.
" . . . So that's what happened." Dick rubbed his arm. "I'm sorry," he blurted out. "I'm sorry I didn't believe Tim, I'm sorry I didn't look for you, I'm sorry I didn't handle Gotham better - "
"Dick."
Dick stopped.
"Dick, it's okay. I looked through some of your files. You did well."
"But I didn't look for you," he whispered.
"I didn't need you to look for me," Bruce countered. "Tim and Jason had that handled. I needed you to look after Damian and to look after Gotham, and you did both very, very well. I'm proud of you, Dick."
Dick let out a long, shaking breath. "Thanks. I - I needed that."
Bruce sighed. "Come here."
Dick slid off the bed and onto the floor by Bruce, leaning into his legs. Bruce wrapped an arm tightly around him.
It was going to be okay.
When Bruce finally made it down to the Cave again, it was to find Jason and Stephanie conspiring over costume designs under the amused supervision of Barbara.
"Hey, B," Jason said. "Come take a look at this."
Bruce went over and peered down at the drawings. They were rough sketches of a costume in shimmering shades of blue edged in black. A sharp beaklike mask was detailed on another sheet. 'Bluejay' was penciled in on the edges. "Considering a name change?"
Jason tried to wave it off. "Well, my old costume got pretty much trashed on the globetrotting tour."
"I still want a full debrief on that before you and Tim get a chance to conspire to hide things about that."
"Oh, you are way too late for that, old man. Anyway. Since I was at the least going to have to get that one fixed up, I got to thinking, and . . . Flamebird was about coming back."
"And burning stuff down," Bruce reminded him wryly.
"Right. But I faced Ra's down, and the Pit was gone. I didn't hear a thing. I don't want . . . I don't want my whole life to be about the fact I came back, you know? I thought maybe it was time to go back to being Jay." He looked up at Bruce a little uncertainly.
"Your name," Bruce told him. "Your choice. But I like it." He turned to Stephanie. "You, on the other hand, we still need to talk about."
"I'm eighteen in three months," she pointed out instantly.
"Yes. In three months."
"I've already been out on the streets. Come on, B. How much of a difference is three months really going to make?"
"If you want to keep going out there, I won't stop you."
She eyed him suspiciously. "Really?"
"Hey!" Jason protested. "You made me stop when I got started too young!"
Bruce barreled on. "If."
"Oh, boy," Stephanie said.
"If you finally tell your mother about all of this first."
Stephanie stared at him in horror. "Bruce, if I do that, I won't be going out when I'm eighteen. I won't be going anywhere until I'm thirty."
"She needs to know."
Stephanie let her face fall into her hands. "Fine," she moaned. "Fine. Just don't blame me when all of Arkham breaks loose, and you desperately need me, and I have to be all, "Sorry, I'm still grounded for the next ten centuries.""
"I won't," Bruce said solemnly. He turned to Barbara.
"If this is the part where you judge me for letting her go out there, I don't want to hear it."
"No." He didn't . . . like it, but he understood it, and he couldn't come up with something they should have done instead. "How's the physical therapy going?"
Barbara deflated a little. "Oh. Good. I'm on track."
"Good." He nodded to Stephanie. "So if she's Batgirl, who will you be?"
"Bruce, I will be nearly twenty-nine when I hit those streets again. I have earned Batwoman."
Bruce's lips twitched. "Fair enough."
After the initial greeting, Damian had been lurking around the edges. Bruce was somewhat relieved when Damian finally marched forward and presented himself in Bruce's office.
Bruce set aside the papers he'd been looking at. "Damian." He wasn't sure quite what to say. His absence had disrupted the fragile connection he'd started to make. Then his eyes caught the movement behind Damian. "Is that a dog?"
Damian moved aside a little. "That is Titus, yes. Grayson allowed his purchase three weeks ago." Uncertainty flickered across his face. "You will not dispose of him, will you?"
Bruce really didn't like the implications of 'dispose of.' "No, of course not."
Damian's shoulders lowered a bit. "Good. Grayson also owes me a cow."
"A what," Bruce said flatly.
"A cow. He had a run of bad luck with Candyland."
"Candyland."
"Yes."
Well, at least his life hadn't gotten any saner in his absence. "Remind me to talk to Dick about letting pets be stakes in board games."
"As you wish, Father."
Bruce sighed and got up around the desk to kneel in front of Damian. "Son. How are you?"
Damian's eyes flicked down. "I am fine."
"Dick told me what happened," he said gently. "I'm sorry that's how you had to see your mother again."
"I am fine," he repeated, but his voice was a lot smaller.
"You will be," Bruce corrected before drawing him into a hug.
Damian was stiff within it for a moment before giving in and returning it. "I am glad you are home, Father. I am - sorry that I was not of assistance in retrieving you."
"You and your brothers are all safe. I'm home. Barbara and Stephanie are safe. That's all I care about."
"Hey, Bruce."
Bruce looked up from his papers. "Tim! You're awake."
"Think so," Tim agreed. "And you're here." He reached out a hand for confirmation.
Bruce squeezed it. "I'm here," he agreed. "And we need to talk."
Tim winced. "About Ra's?"
"That too."
Tim's winced deepened. "About Red Robin?"
"And that."
"Then what - oh." Tim's eyes dropped. "You found out about my parents."
"I did. I'm so sorry, Tim."
Tim's lips trembled. "I'm - You know, I didn't think - They didn't care. Why should I have to care?"
"Oh, Tim." Bruce moved over to the bed. Tim buried his face in Bruce's side. Bruce ran his fingers through Tim's hair. He didn't know what to say to that. He'd never had that problem.
But just sitting there seemed to be enough. Tim stayed curled into him until he'd cried himself out. "Sorry," he muttered as he sat up, looking almost embarrassed. "I couldn't - everyone thought that was why I was so sure you were alive. So I had to prove them wrong."
So you couldn't cry.
Bruce sighed. "Which brings us to the other point. Tim, I'm grateful that you and Jason worked so hard to save me. Very grateful. But it's not actually your job to keep jumping in front of bullets for me, metaphorical or otherwise."
Tim frowned at him. "Technically, it's not your job to jump in front of anything for us either."
"I'm your father." He froze as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Not because the words weren't true, but because right after discussing the death of Tim's actual father probably wasn't the time to say it.
But Tim looked . . . happy? "Thanks," he said quietly. "Ra's kept talking about how I was almost good enough to be mistaken for yours, and - thanks."
"Tim, you're brilliant," Bruce said. "And brave enough to give me a heart attack. Just - be careful, all right? By the time you're healed up and back in condition, you'll be old enough to be out in a cape, and there's only so much strain my heart can take."
Tim looked down at his lap and started picking at the blanket. "About . . . that. I've been thinking. Barbara's going to be Batwoman soon."
"Yes," Bruce agreed, wondering where this was going.
"I was thinking maybe I could be Oracle. Just for a while. Before I went out on the streets. If that's okay, I mean."
Bruce stared at him.
Tim started backtracking quickly. "You know what, never mind, I'm sure Damian will be trained enough by then to - "
Bruce hugged him. Possibly too tightly. But under the circumstances, he thought he could be forgiven.
"I think you broke him," Dick said from the doorway. "Also, congratulations on your new position as favorite child."
Bruce made a small, protesting noise, but he didn't let go.
Tim patted his back awkwardly. "So, you don't . . . mind? Think less of me?"
"Tim. Tim. I have been campaigning for all of you to stay in the Cave since Dick first convinced me to let him go down there. No, I don't mind that one of my children finally has a shred of sense. I'm delighted."
"Plus, we really will need a new Oracle," Dick said brightly. "And you'll be brilliant at it."
Bruce finally let go. "As happy as I am," he said, "I do have to ask. Is this about what happened on your trip to find me?"
Tim looked away. "I - hurt a guy. Pretty bad. And we had to fight your clone, and I just - I just need a bit more time. And I've always liked the background stuff, the hacking and the detective work, more anyway."
"Okay. Then you can stay Oracle as long as you want, assuming Barbara's okay with handing down the title. And we'll talk about the rest of it when you've had a bit of a break, alright?"
"Okay," Tim said quietly. "I'm - really glad you're home."
"Me too, Tim. Me too."
Dick hung around even after Bruce left to go deal with a suspicious crashing sound.
"Dick?" Tim asked curiously.
Dick smiled at him weakly. "Hey, little brother." He dropped onto Bruce's spot on the bed with a sigh. "I figured I owed you an apology."
Tim frowned. "For thinking I was crazy? Or for Robin?"
"I - for all of it. You were right, Tim. And you've got the perfect right to say I told you so - goodness knows Jason already has - "
"About a million times."
" - and you're owed a few of those too. And I am - I'm not sorry I did everything I could to stop you from running off to get yourself killed because clearly," Dick said poking lightly at one of Tim's casts, "I was right to worry. Although apparently Jason wasn't the reckless one after all."
"He couldn't be," Tim said, a bit of exhaustion creeping into his voice. "He was trying to look after me."
"Yeah, that sounds like him." Dick looked down. "And I should have been there to look after you too. I'm not sorry I tried to protect you, but I went about it the wrong way. I gave you Robin because you needed it. I shouldn't have taken it away because I was scared."
Tim considered this for a long moment. "I forgive you. Sorry I scared you."
Dick laughed. "At this point, I think that's just what this family does."
