What? A chapter NOT about Colin and Jason? (It's actually more likely than you think)

This one's from another AU (well. the same AU technically) where Damian goes with Tim when he sets off on the Great Broos Search.

Another writing exercise from KeyboardSmashWriters: Take two of your characters and put them in a setting where they can speak together about something that perplexes both of them. Unpack character thoughts in between gestures and brief descriptions of the scene.

Triggers: Depression

Disclaimer: I have not actually read Red Robin. Most of my comics knowledge is 70s era as that's where my current read through is. That said what I do know is gleaned from various trades I've read at work (mostly anthologies focusing on certain writers/characters) or Wikipedia, so I know this whole conversation is likely a. horribly OOC b. canon incompatible and c. I have no idea how they actually got Bruce back. This is 100% Grade A BS right here my friends

Day 4: Robins | De-Aging | Reverse Batfam AU

Oh hey, their first real sign of progress: Damian didn't immediately try to slit his jugular. As it was, he gave Tim an affronted look. Harsh white light glinted off the blade cradled in his lap as the edge tilted towards Tim. "Are you suggesting Grandfather had something to do with Father's disappearance?"

Maybe.

"No," Tim said, "Of course not. I just think it's a bit strange that Ra's would expend so much time and resources locating his greatest enemy."

"Father is his legal son-in-law," Damian said, bringing the sharpening stone in his right hand against the edge of the blade in a careful caress. "He considers him an Al Ghul."

"True." Tim rubbed his temple. "It's also true that he's made it clear that anyone who isn't working to further his agenda is an enemy. Ra's hasn't let family ties keep him from his goals before. He's after something else here."

Damian tested the edge of his sword. Grimaced. "That is not an unreasonable assessment," he said at last, bringing the stone along the edge in another smooth stroke. "Grandfather could be using this situation to keep tabs on Father's allies."

"Yeah, when's the last time you talked to anyone back home?" Tim asked. "Because I sure haven't tried since we left Gotham."

"There is you as well, imbecile. You're no Grayson, but Grandfather would be foolish not to monitor you."

He searched Damian's face, then punted his suspicion to the side. Damian's petty insults weren't the concern right now. "Either way, there's no new information he could be getting from us, and by extension them." Tim cast his eyes around the room. Anyone of the swirls or curls in the architecture could hide a pinhole camera or a microphone. He laced his fingers together, resisting the impulse to spell out his next sentence. Damian had been resistant to learning ASL. Even if he had not, Ra's almost certainly had a translator.

"He is not concerned about leaking information, either," Damian mused. Another thin rasp curled around the room. "Grandfather has been very careful with the information he allows us to access. We have learned nothing that can be used to harm him. Even his illness is hardly worth mentioning."

"Wait, Ra's is sick?" Tim asked, "since when?"

Damian looked up from his sword. "Grandfather has been in poor health for quite some time now. You are well aware of that, Drake."

"I knew he's been trying to fight off old age for some time," Tim said. His hand was on his chin, he realized, and he pulled it away and laid it on the table. "Illness is a completely different beast. So is this just frailty or-"

"Cancer," Damian said, his voice almost drowned in the flurry of short strokes he abused the edge of his sword.

Why was that important? Cancer. The Pit. Something stirred in the back of his mind. They were related somehow. The shadowy thought eluded him. He ground his lip between his teeth. When had his memory gotten so foggy? He used to be able to remember stuff like this easily.

Whenever it was, a small part reminded him, Dick had noticed first. He had to have.

"-ake. Drake!"

"-What?" he started. Damian arched a disdainful eyebrow at him. "Grandfather's illness is irrelevant. It has nothing to do with our search for Father, and it is only a minor inconvenience in his plan to revitalize the earth.

Earth. Clay.

His breath rushed in a gasp. "Matthew Hagan."

"Who-?" Damian's eyes narrowed. "-Hagan. Yes. I remember – a mediocre Shadow even before his unfortunate mutation. How is he relevant?"

"Hagan tried to use the Pit to cure his cancer," Tim said, the words slow and careful. "It turned him to slush."

"…Again, I fail to see the relevance. Drake, I think your lack of sleep is affecting your judgment."

"The Pit, Damian." He looked up. "Your grandfather can't use the Pit to fix the cancer."

Damian's sword lowered. Warm torch light played across his dark round face. "No. It would not." His eyes squinted together. "Drake. This is madness."

Despite himself, Tim cast his gaze to the doorway. So much made sense now. That hungry look in Ra's green eyes when they'd arrived in Pakistan, a look that had faded to a glint but never disappeared. Then there was that comment he'd made about Damian embracing his true future, his true purpose-

He couldn't recall Ra's exact words. He didn't have to.

That son of a bitch. He was using them alright, and he'd used Tim to get to Damian.

"You cannot seriously be suggesting that my Grandfather would use Father like that." Damian's sword was lowering from his lap.

Damian would never believe the truth. Ra's hooks were too deep into him.

"I think your grandfather's a desperate guy and banking on the fact that everyone thinks Bruce is dead," Tim said. "If he's going to do this, it can't be just anyone. It has to be someone he's compatible with. Someone he respects." Tim stood. "Can you think of anyone else who fits that bill?"

Someone young. Someone related by blood who can tolerate the Pit madness. Someone with a long, healthy life ahead of them.

Who else could it be but Damian? The only real question left: how much time did they have to get out? Bruce could wait. Wherever- whenever- he was, he was simply lost. Not in active danger of having his personhood erased.

A small, dark hand curled into a fist. "…If you are correct," Damian said at last, "if. Then we must proceed without Grandfather's assistance."

"We can't wait any longer. We know where Ra's keeps the locus. If we take it and leave now, we can be in and out before he realizes we're gone."

"Even if we steal the locus, it is useless without knowing where to use it, and the two of us won't be enough to focus Father's energy."

"You're the blood son," Tim said, his stomach clenching as he spoke. "If you're not enough, then all the rest of us combined won't be." A lie, and by the way Damian eyed him, he seemed to sense it. But it was a lie Damian still believed, and Damian did not challenge him.

"Then there is no point in waiting," Damian said, tying the sheathed sword to his belt. "We move now."