Well, I would like to thank the one person who bothered to review. I hope the rest of you just forgot because you were so busy with schoolwork and all. Anyway, please R and R. If not for me…then for yourselves.
Now on with the fic.
Chapter Three: What must be Done
Bruce Wayne normally would have had Alfred pick him up at the office but in such a case where he wished to drive home himself, he always had a BMW located in the staff parking lot.
As soon as he entered the vehicle, he dispensed with the boy billionaire attitude and became his alter ego behind the wheel. All that was missing was the costume.
As the foreign car screeched out of the parking lot it left eight feet of rubber.
Alfred Pennyworth seemed a bit concerned about his older master. Normally he would be asking him if now was a convenient time for him to go pick him up…but instead he drives home himself.
Pay it no mind, thought the butler, If you need to know then he will tell you.
From his position in the kitchen, Alfred could hear footsteps approaching his way. He turned around and saw Tim Drake enter the room.
"Hey, Alf," greeted the teenager as he opened the refrigerator. He wore a red t-shirt which was accompanied by a pair of baggy blue-jeans.
Alfred watched the teen carefully. Was something the matter with Tim?
The sound of the fridge door closing brought Alfred out of his daydreams.
"Something wrong?" asked Tim as he let an apple roll down his arm and fly off his bent wrist. He caught the fruit before its collision with the clean marble floor could be accomplished.
"Uh-no, Master Tim. However, Master Bruce is on his way home."
Tim sighed. "He's probably got a lead on the Scarecrow. I better suit up." He turned his back to the butler and made his way out of the kitchen.
"Actually, young sir," corrected Alfred, "he wishes for you to stay here."
Had Tim stopped any more abruptly he would have slipped on his cotton socks. He stared at Alfred with a confused look. "Well…maybe he wants me to get to the cave."
Alfred shook his head. "If that were the case he would have told me so. His exact instructions were to keep you here." His voice now lowered as though he was trying to tell Tim a secret even though the manor was completely empty. "If you are in any trouble, Master Tim, please tell me and I will do my best to help."
The teen sighed. "Alfred, I'm not in trouble at all. If one of my teachers called Bruce…it's probably to tell them that I'm doing much better than I was last semester."
Alfred raised an eyebrow. "I've heard that same rumor as well. Tell me, what's your favorite subject?"
"Mythology," replied Tim without hesitation. "All that ancient Greek stuff beats the hell out of every other subject. And as for math…it can piss off." He then gave a chuckle.
Putting a hand on Tim's shoulder, Alfred said, "Very well, Tim. However just to keep on his good side in case you're on the bad one, I suggest you go wait in your room."
Bruce Wayne knew the traffic in Gotham was bad but he didn't know to what extent. It always felt different when you were driving a car which made you stand out for all the rest and was also equipped with a jet powered engine. Just before he shut off the ignition he checked the time.
Ten minutes later than he had hoped.
Not good. Not good at all.
"Master Bruce," greeted Alfred as his beloved master entered the front door where the butler was waiting, "I hope you had a pleasant drive home."
"Is Tim in the cave?" asked Bruce.
Alfred knew it to be typical for his master not to answer the question he had asked. It didn't matter since he knew the answer. Bruce had a thing for punctuality and it was a quality that he always held within himself. Having known Bruce Wayne better than anyone else, he knew that Bruce was upset with himself for being late.
"No," replied the older man. "I sent him to his bedroom to wait for you."
Out of nowhere there came two thuds which sounded like they were coming off a wall which was followed a second later buy a much louder sound of impact.
Wayne turned to his old friend. "What is that?"
Alfred shrugged. "Forgive me, sir. I told him that you were running late nine minutes ago and he's been doing that ever since. I tried to stop him but…he's a—"
"Teenager," sighed Bruce.
He walked up the stairs to the long corridor which held his bedroom, Dick's old one, seven guest rooms and Tim's.
Instead of knocking on the door and allowing Tim to keep the privacy that almost every teenager on the planet so desperately desired, he put his hand on the knob and twisted it carefully so that it would not make any direct sound. When he was sure the bolt was in all the way and opened the door as fast as he could, hoping to catch Tim off guard.
All Bruce was able to see was Tim doing a back flip and then landing on his two feet. It seemed that the teen had been charging the walls and then running up them with just enough momentum to do a back flip off of it.
As the teen landed on his feet he looked over towards the door and saw the man whom had been taking care of him for some time now.
"Hey there," smiled Tim.
"Sit down," said Bruce in a cold voice.
The smile fell. That voice scared the living hell out of Tim. He quickly made his way to the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress.
"Look," he began, having already made up as many defenses as he could while doing the exercise, "whatever you heard I did…I didn't do it."
"You aren't in trouble," assured Bruce. "Not yet anyway."
"Well that's comforting," lied Tim. "So what's on your mind?"
Bruce sat down on the mattress next to his young ward.
Although Tim often did his best not to show shock or surprise around Bruce, this was certainly making things difficult. Bruce was practically five centimeters away from him and something in the far back of Tim's mind was telling that a hug might be in the cards.
"Tim," began Bruce, "how long do you plan on staying in the family business?"
By family business, Bruce meant their work as crime fighters.
"Always," replied Tim without hesitation. The job was unlike any other a person could have at his age. It was exciting; it got your adrenaline pumping. And best of all, it was dangerous.
"Are you dying?" the blue eyed teen asked out of nowhere.
Bruce blinked. "Pardon?"
"Are you dying? Normally I kind of expected this line of questioning if you were dying." Tim was being sincere. He had a reputation of having a smart mouth.
"I'm not dying," said Bruce sternly.
"Is Dick dying?" asked Tim in a concerned voice. "You can tell me."
"No one is dying," growled the Dark Night's alter ego.
Not yet.
"You remember when Static went into the future a few days ago, right?"
Tim nodded. "Sure, when he came back he was gonna tell you stuff but you stopped him." It then clicked into him. The questions about him wanting to stay in the business-asking about Static. "He told about the future," summed Tim. "He told you how its gonna look and…something's wrong with me isn't there?"
Bruce nodded. "Apparently you become a civilian."
The words hit Tim in the stomach like a sledge hammer.
Civilian? No it was impossible. This is what he was born to do. Even if he had to do from a god damn wheelchair he would continue to do it.
"Jesus," was all he could say.
"I know it's difficult to accept," explained Bruce like he was trying to tell Tim that a member of their family was dying, "but that's why I've told you…"
"No," growled Tim as he stood up from the bed. He whirled around and looked at Bruce. "You want to change the future! You can't. You're doing this so I don't somehow screw up in the future and make you look bad." Tears were close to streaming down his cheeks but to hell with them. To hell with Bruce. To hell with the future.
"You have to understand," began Bruce.
"Shut up," bellowed Tim. "You don't know dick about temporal mechanics. Suppose you try to change the future, what if that's what causes the future you saw?" He wiped the tears away and began to breathe deeply.
"Why are you doing this?"
Bruce looked Tim straight in the eyes and gave him the answer that no one had ever expected to come out of the lips of this man: "I'm doing this because I care for you."
Tim wanted to faint. Never in all his years with Bruce had he heard him actually admit some sort of caring emotions for him.
"Man," sighed Tim. "I would have preferred somebody dying over this." He returned to his position next to Bruce on the bed. Looking at his bedroom door he asked, "So what are you gonna do? Do I quit?"
"No," said Bruce immediately. "I considered it on the way home. I've decided its time for you to move on."
"'Move on'?" asked Tim. "What do you mean?"
Bruce positioned himself so that he was looking right at the teen. "I mean you moving on to your own city to protect and serve. You be the boss. You do it your way."
Tim felt the wind knocked out of him again. "B-bu-but where would I go…? I-I don't know where…"
"Jump City," replied Bruce. "Its crime rate isn't as high as ours but it's getting up there."
He looked Tim in the eyes. "Can you do this?"
Tim nodded. As much as he didn't want to aid Bruce in changing the timeline, he knew that if it kept him from a civilian life it would be worth it.
To Be Continued…
And that's chapter three: Yea, we finally get Robin in that one. Sorry for not updating in a while but I've been rather busy. Please R/R
Next Chapter: The Bat-Team makes plans for the big move
Now on with the fic.
Chapter Three: What must be Done
Bruce Wayne normally would have had Alfred pick him up at the office but in such a case where he wished to drive home himself, he always had a BMW located in the staff parking lot.
As soon as he entered the vehicle, he dispensed with the boy billionaire attitude and became his alter ego behind the wheel. All that was missing was the costume.
As the foreign car screeched out of the parking lot it left eight feet of rubber.
Alfred Pennyworth seemed a bit concerned about his older master. Normally he would be asking him if now was a convenient time for him to go pick him up…but instead he drives home himself.
Pay it no mind, thought the butler, If you need to know then he will tell you.
From his position in the kitchen, Alfred could hear footsteps approaching his way. He turned around and saw Tim Drake enter the room.
"Hey, Alf," greeted the teenager as he opened the refrigerator. He wore a red t-shirt which was accompanied by a pair of baggy blue-jeans.
Alfred watched the teen carefully. Was something the matter with Tim?
The sound of the fridge door closing brought Alfred out of his daydreams.
"Something wrong?" asked Tim as he let an apple roll down his arm and fly off his bent wrist. He caught the fruit before its collision with the clean marble floor could be accomplished.
"Uh-no, Master Tim. However, Master Bruce is on his way home."
Tim sighed. "He's probably got a lead on the Scarecrow. I better suit up." He turned his back to the butler and made his way out of the kitchen.
"Actually, young sir," corrected Alfred, "he wishes for you to stay here."
Had Tim stopped any more abruptly he would have slipped on his cotton socks. He stared at Alfred with a confused look. "Well…maybe he wants me to get to the cave."
Alfred shook his head. "If that were the case he would have told me so. His exact instructions were to keep you here." His voice now lowered as though he was trying to tell Tim a secret even though the manor was completely empty. "If you are in any trouble, Master Tim, please tell me and I will do my best to help."
The teen sighed. "Alfred, I'm not in trouble at all. If one of my teachers called Bruce…it's probably to tell them that I'm doing much better than I was last semester."
Alfred raised an eyebrow. "I've heard that same rumor as well. Tell me, what's your favorite subject?"
"Mythology," replied Tim without hesitation. "All that ancient Greek stuff beats the hell out of every other subject. And as for math…it can piss off." He then gave a chuckle.
Putting a hand on Tim's shoulder, Alfred said, "Very well, Tim. However just to keep on his good side in case you're on the bad one, I suggest you go wait in your room."
Bruce Wayne knew the traffic in Gotham was bad but he didn't know to what extent. It always felt different when you were driving a car which made you stand out for all the rest and was also equipped with a jet powered engine. Just before he shut off the ignition he checked the time.
Ten minutes later than he had hoped.
Not good. Not good at all.
"Master Bruce," greeted Alfred as his beloved master entered the front door where the butler was waiting, "I hope you had a pleasant drive home."
"Is Tim in the cave?" asked Bruce.
Alfred knew it to be typical for his master not to answer the question he had asked. It didn't matter since he knew the answer. Bruce had a thing for punctuality and it was a quality that he always held within himself. Having known Bruce Wayne better than anyone else, he knew that Bruce was upset with himself for being late.
"No," replied the older man. "I sent him to his bedroom to wait for you."
Out of nowhere there came two thuds which sounded like they were coming off a wall which was followed a second later buy a much louder sound of impact.
Wayne turned to his old friend. "What is that?"
Alfred shrugged. "Forgive me, sir. I told him that you were running late nine minutes ago and he's been doing that ever since. I tried to stop him but…he's a—"
"Teenager," sighed Bruce.
He walked up the stairs to the long corridor which held his bedroom, Dick's old one, seven guest rooms and Tim's.
Instead of knocking on the door and allowing Tim to keep the privacy that almost every teenager on the planet so desperately desired, he put his hand on the knob and twisted it carefully so that it would not make any direct sound. When he was sure the bolt was in all the way and opened the door as fast as he could, hoping to catch Tim off guard.
All Bruce was able to see was Tim doing a back flip and then landing on his two feet. It seemed that the teen had been charging the walls and then running up them with just enough momentum to do a back flip off of it.
As the teen landed on his feet he looked over towards the door and saw the man whom had been taking care of him for some time now.
"Hey there," smiled Tim.
"Sit down," said Bruce in a cold voice.
The smile fell. That voice scared the living hell out of Tim. He quickly made his way to the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress.
"Look," he began, having already made up as many defenses as he could while doing the exercise, "whatever you heard I did…I didn't do it."
"You aren't in trouble," assured Bruce. "Not yet anyway."
"Well that's comforting," lied Tim. "So what's on your mind?"
Bruce sat down on the mattress next to his young ward.
Although Tim often did his best not to show shock or surprise around Bruce, this was certainly making things difficult. Bruce was practically five centimeters away from him and something in the far back of Tim's mind was telling that a hug might be in the cards.
"Tim," began Bruce, "how long do you plan on staying in the family business?"
By family business, Bruce meant their work as crime fighters.
"Always," replied Tim without hesitation. The job was unlike any other a person could have at his age. It was exciting; it got your adrenaline pumping. And best of all, it was dangerous.
"Are you dying?" the blue eyed teen asked out of nowhere.
Bruce blinked. "Pardon?"
"Are you dying? Normally I kind of expected this line of questioning if you were dying." Tim was being sincere. He had a reputation of having a smart mouth.
"I'm not dying," said Bruce sternly.
"Is Dick dying?" asked Tim in a concerned voice. "You can tell me."
"No one is dying," growled the Dark Night's alter ego.
Not yet.
"You remember when Static went into the future a few days ago, right?"
Tim nodded. "Sure, when he came back he was gonna tell you stuff but you stopped him." It then clicked into him. The questions about him wanting to stay in the business-asking about Static. "He told about the future," summed Tim. "He told you how its gonna look and…something's wrong with me isn't there?"
Bruce nodded. "Apparently you become a civilian."
The words hit Tim in the stomach like a sledge hammer.
Civilian? No it was impossible. This is what he was born to do. Even if he had to do from a god damn wheelchair he would continue to do it.
"Jesus," was all he could say.
"I know it's difficult to accept," explained Bruce like he was trying to tell Tim that a member of their family was dying, "but that's why I've told you…"
"No," growled Tim as he stood up from the bed. He whirled around and looked at Bruce. "You want to change the future! You can't. You're doing this so I don't somehow screw up in the future and make you look bad." Tears were close to streaming down his cheeks but to hell with them. To hell with Bruce. To hell with the future.
"You have to understand," began Bruce.
"Shut up," bellowed Tim. "You don't know dick about temporal mechanics. Suppose you try to change the future, what if that's what causes the future you saw?" He wiped the tears away and began to breathe deeply.
"Why are you doing this?"
Bruce looked Tim straight in the eyes and gave him the answer that no one had ever expected to come out of the lips of this man: "I'm doing this because I care for you."
Tim wanted to faint. Never in all his years with Bruce had he heard him actually admit some sort of caring emotions for him.
"Man," sighed Tim. "I would have preferred somebody dying over this." He returned to his position next to Bruce on the bed. Looking at his bedroom door he asked, "So what are you gonna do? Do I quit?"
"No," said Bruce immediately. "I considered it on the way home. I've decided its time for you to move on."
"'Move on'?" asked Tim. "What do you mean?"
Bruce positioned himself so that he was looking right at the teen. "I mean you moving on to your own city to protect and serve. You be the boss. You do it your way."
Tim felt the wind knocked out of him again. "B-bu-but where would I go…? I-I don't know where…"
"Jump City," replied Bruce. "Its crime rate isn't as high as ours but it's getting up there."
He looked Tim in the eyes. "Can you do this?"
Tim nodded. As much as he didn't want to aid Bruce in changing the timeline, he knew that if it kept him from a civilian life it would be worth it.
To Be Continued…
And that's chapter three: Yea, we finally get Robin in that one. Sorry for not updating in a while but I've been rather busy. Please R/R
Next Chapter: The Bat-Team makes plans for the big move