SHADOW DIMENSION
HOUR 3.25
He had no choice but to take the right-hand tunnel. He paused for fifteen seconds to devour a ration bar, which featured the unwelcome side effect of making him thirstier.
It became apparent that the right side was the correct choice within a few short minutes. This tunnel was full of wide-open spaces and there were more shades to fight past. The ground had several wide chasms he had to leap across, tall cliffs that needed scaling. As time passed, Tim tried with increasingly futile efforts to conserve the water in his canteen. His constant athletic activity and the elevated temperature of the Shadow World made this an impossible task.
He was barely strong enough to leap the abysses, barely fast enough to dodge attacks. More often than not, he had to rely on his grapnel gun or some trick in his utility belt to save him from a missed ledge or push back some shades that were getting to close for comfort. It was a painful reminder of everything Tim wasn't. Jason and Dick were both very athletically proficient and would have had no trouble navigating this shadow world. While Tim was by no means a couch potato, he would never be as good as Dick and Jason was a born fighter.
If it had been Jason in the museum, he would have thrashed Klarion until the Chaos Lord released him from the Shadow World. Dick wouldn't have been hit by the transporter spell in the first place.
And then there was Tim. A gangly, inexperienced sidekick completely at the Chaos Lord's mercy.
It made him wonder why Klarion had chosen him to place in the Shadow World. Any other member of the Team would have been more entertaining. Why pick him?
The others. Were they alright? What had happened at the museum? How were his parents taking his disappearance? Where was Batman? What had his parents done with the knowledge of Batman's secret identity?
That question was the most troubling. Batman's secret was deadly even to those unaffiliated with him. That knowledge was precious. His mother would certainly want to use it to her advantage. Which was good, because she wouldn't reveal it to the media. But it wasn't good, because it would taint Batman's integrity. If the Bat was beholden to any master, the Cause would be damaged. Batman would be damaged.
He loved his mother, but he couldn't allow her to do that to Batman. He was an ideal, a symbol. The symbol needed freedom to work. Tarnish that freedom even a little bit, and everything Batman stood for would mean nothing.
Tim couldn't let his mother add Batman to her list of assets. Robin couldn't let her do it.
He'd make a deal with her, then. If she swore not to hinder the activities of Batman and his allies and promised never to reveal their identity to anyone, then Tim would give up the Robin persona.
Yes. She would accept that. Mother had told him repeatedly that Drake Industries would be his empire one day, that everything she did was for his sake. If Tim was to be a good heir, than his mother needed him to focus solely on his mother's wishes- to cut away all other distractions.
It felt like a betrayal to his mother. He was going to blackmail her, manipulate her greatest desire so that Tim would get his way.
But it had to be done. It wasn't like he wanted a new toy or the latest iTouch. Lives were at stake. Lives of people he really cared about.
And, with a horrified feeling, he realized that he cared more about what happened to Batman than about his own mother's deepest desires.
Tim wanted to throw up, had to stop traveling for a moment. His entire body shook.
He cared more about Batman than his own mother.
What kind of monster was he? It was a sign that Tim needed to stop being Robin if he was placing it above his own family.
Tim wasn't even sure how Batman had come to take so much of his life. It had been fun (mostly) but now it was time to move on with his life. Robin was only a stage, a path he had never even intended to travel. He had taken the role out of necessity- because Batman had needed him to. It was time to let it go.
Let it go.
Let Robin go.
Stop flying along Gotham's rooftops.
Stop saving lives.
Stop shining light in a hopeless city.
Stop flying.
Lock himself alone in to a room with nothing but oppressive silence and months-late postcards.
Close off his escape for when the echoes in the large, lonely house were too many.
Let Robin go.
The thought hurt. And, he realized with reluctance, he didn't… he didn't want to give up the role.
Granted, Tim wasn't the best Robin. And when he stopped being Robin, Bruce would have no trouble replacing him. (When one Bird falls, another rises to take his place.)
He knew it was selfish to want to keep the Robin persona. It was in everyone's best interests for him to drop the role. His parents'. Batman's, even. He took the mantle up for Batman's best interest, and it was time to drop it.
But all the reasoning in the world didn't affect his desire.
Tim didn't want to stop being Robin.
MOUNT JUSTICE
DECEMBER 17, 12:42 EST
The Memorial caverns were always cold.
La'gaan stood before the holographic image of his best friend. Jason had been in a bad mood the day the scan had been taken- "Private stuff," he'd said. The memorial served as an excellent reminder of Jason's negatives. His temper. His cynicism. His self-hatred.
It didn't show his laughter. His generosity. His compassion. His perseverance.
"Hey." He cleared his throat. "I- I know I haven't really been around much. I just- I don't know. Things have been busy. Everything- I don't know who else to talk to."
Unsurprisingly, the hologram said nothing. Just stared off into another plane. Jason had gotten that far-away look at the oddest times. La'gaan never got to ask him about them.
"I mean- I don't know what to do anymore. I joined this Team- because I wanted to be like Kaldur. Strong. Brave. Wise. Intelligent. And then I- I met you."
It was like one of those television sitcoms his angelfish loved so much- an idealistic, clumsy newbie somehow becoming best friends with the seasoned, cynical prankster. The minute La'gaan stepped into the Cave, Jason had him pegged him as partner-in-crime material. New to the surface world and surprised that anyone would be so accepting of him despite his impurities, he went along for the ride without question.
"And we had- we had a great run. Some good times."
That time they'd gone for a swim in Lex Luthor's private pool. Crushing Ocean Master's chances of getting back in good graces with the Light. Stealing the Nightwing's motorbike and crashing it in the middle of the desert. Stopping an intergalactic war. Winning the prank war with the Justice League. Getting thrown back in time to the Justice Society's Golden Age.
The warehouse.
Keeping secrets.
The fight.
The explosion.
Jason's dark eyes staring at the sky. Devoid of anything. Broken.
Dead.
Closing his eyes wouldn't chase away the memories, wouldn't make the pain go away. He resisted the temptation to squeeze his eyes shut, focused on Jason's face "I'm not good with words, Jason. You know that. But- It's just- Neptune's Beard, why- why did you you give up? You gave up. You're the one who told me never to quit, never to stop fighting. What happened to that? What happened to you?"
Jason's scowl offered no answers.
There was more he wanted to say. He could feel the pent-up emotion roiling in his chest. But the words would not come to his lips. He sucked in a pained breath and fell silent.
Footsteps sounded behind him and La'gaan turned, expecting Nightwing or maybe Batgirl.
It was Donna.
He stood for a moment in shock. Her eyes were darker and faint lines had begun to cross her face, but her eyes lacked the bleak despair that had defined her. Clad in full Amazonian armor, bearing a single white candle, Donna Troy looked whole again. Not perfect. Not unmarred. But no longer shattered. No longer entrenched deeply into darkness.
She smiled at him with just a hint of awkwardness. "La'gaan."
"Donna. I didn't expect- How did you -"
"Nightwing called and said he needed my help. That Robin needed my help." She knelt before Jason's hologram and set the candle at its feet. Murmuring a quick prayer in her native language, she stood again and turned to La'gaan. "And I needed to apologize to you."
"You don't need to apologize, Donna. You needed time to work through the grief. I- I know what it's like to lose someone. I don't hold it against you."
"That doesn't make it right. You were my friend too. Jason's death hurt you just as much as it hurt me. I was wrong to leave you alone in your grief. And for that, I am truly sorry."
He hadn't known how much he'd needed to hear that until she'd said it. La'gaan shuffled nervously. "I- I accept your apology. And I forgive you for leaving. Does this mean you're coming back to the Team, Troia?"
For a moment, she looked away. "Troia was a different identity, a stage in my life. Please call me Darkstar."
He remembered how defensive Donna had been of the title Troia. It had been an honorific bestowed on her by Wonder Woman herself. Obviously, she no longer felt worthy of the name.
"But the Team?"
"I'm not ready for that yet. I don't know if I'll ever be ready for that. I still need to sort out some things- to make sense of myself. But I'm not going to isolate myself anymore."
"I've missed you, Donna," he admitted.
"I've missed you too."
"Not to interrupt this touching reunion," a deep, feminine voice interrupted, "but I seem to have lost my way to the main assembly."
"Cheshire? What- why are you-"
"I'm here to join the party," she interrupted, "I can't let you heroes have all the fun, now can I?"
"Why would you want to help Robin?"
Cheshire snorted. "It's not about helping Robin. It's about getting even with the Witch-Boy. I've been waiting for an excuse to mop the floor with him for years. Besides, Roy isn't coming. And I think that is a mistake. Friends like Nightwing are a rare treasure. And if Roy isn't going to honor the friendship he shares with Nightwing, then I will."
NEW YORK CITY
DECEMBER 17, 12:30
Klarion had concealed his trail from the museum well. Although Blood could track portals Klarion made in the main reality, when they entered other dimensions there was nothing he could do to follow it. Actually using the tunnels Klarion had created in reality wasn't an option. They had been closed tight and booby trapped.
However, Blood determined that, with enough time to formulate the proper spell, he could at least trace the tunnels and determine where they returned to the main reality- like threading seashells, he said.
Whenever possible, Batman kept an eye on his city. He followed the newspapers online and monitored computer activity in the Batcave. Dick and Barbara had tried to crack the computer code he'd written into the Computer a few more times, without success. There had been attempted breakouts from both Arkham and Blackgate, as well as a spike in gang shootings. But Batgirl and Nightwing had efficiently handled all three incidents. He made a mental note to raise their salaries.
Regrouping at Blood's base in London, they had been able to use process of elimination and a detailed history of Klarion's activities to note the places he frequented. Once Blood figured out how to track the tunnels Klarion made between dimensions, they narrowed Klarion's hideout to three places.
Neither of them brought up the possibility that Klarion's hideout may be in another dimension, though both had taken it into consideration.
Blood pulled up a miniature map of the globe he had created, with Klarion's movements marked in red. Recorded sightings were shaded in yellow.
"Klarion's movements indicate the most activity in Massachusetts, Wales, and Bialya."
"Where do you suggest we start, Blood?"
The other man smiled. "Please, call me Jason."
"I'd rather not." Blood looked too similar to his deceased protégée. He looked twice as old as Jason, was much taller and with a slimmer physique, but his facial structure, his red hair… (just a tad darker than Jason's…)
However, Bruce could never have mistaken Blood for Jason, even at a cursory glance. Jason had- a presence? A personality? - about him that Blood lacked. Jason had been gifted with just as much, if not more, leadership capability and charisma as Dick. However, his upbringing had severely crippled Jason's people skills- a handicap that he had been learning to circumvent at the time of his death. Jason commanded the room, while Blood melted into the shadows. Like Tim and Barbara, Blood disliked the spotlight and did his best work behind the curtain.
No matter how different the two Jasons were, the similarities were too many for Batman- for Bruce- to handle. It should be Robin standing next to him.
And he realizes that he isn't sure whether 'Robin' means Jason or Tim. That there is no way he could have had both Jason and Tim as companions at the same time. If Jason had lived, Tim would never have approached Batman. Never became his protégée. But Jason is dead, and Tim is a good soldier. In many ways, Tim is everything Jason is not- Methodical, Cautious, Self-Deprecating against Jason's brash, reckless, over confident nature, and yet in others, they are identical- Compassion, Bravery, Loyalty.
Having one inevitably means losing the other.
He can't decide, and he doesn't want to. He forces the topic from his mind because he doesn't want to think about losing Tim the way he lost Jason, doesn't want to think about having lost Jason. He can only be grateful that no villain had ever tried to make him choose between his associates.
Oblivious to Batman's thoughts, Blood gave him a measuring look. Not judgmental or angry, simply inquisitive. "Too unprofessional?"
"No," Batman replied, "I have my own reasons."
The Magi turned back to the map. All business. Aloof. "The Lords of Chaos leech magical energy from leylines. I suggest we start at Wales."
As Blood turned away to cast a portal spell, Batman felt his communicator vibrate. He sighed and checked the display. Nightwing. Again. That's the eighth time he's called in twenty four hours. What if something really is amiss?
Then he can handle it. Nightwing is fully capable of handling a crisis.
He hit the reject button and followed Jason Blood into the portal.