Disclaimer- Don't own Batman Beyond or JLU at all

Terry's week in the Watchtower had adjusted his sleeping schedule to a more sane time, what with him not having to go crack criminal heads in Gotham, and as such, he managed a good seven hours of sleep before waking up in bed still in costume.

With nothing to do, he examined the guest room, amazed at all the lavish furnishings. He couldn't help but wonder if all of these plush carpets and hardwood furniture was just gathering dust somewhere in his time, or if they'd simply been covered, gathering dust.

Speaking of which, this room looked like it had never been used, though it was very clean. Terry hadn't really seen too much of the actual manor besides the parlor, kitchen, and living room so he wondered exactly where he was. Out of idle curiosity, he swiped a finger above a nearby table amazed at the lack of dust. Alfred certainly kept things in shape alright.

He stepped out to the window, making sure he couldn't actually be seen before looking out. The manor was… actually gorgeous. He was so used to the nearly ruined manor, with its gothic architecture and decayed lands, the change surprised him.

Terry knew there would be no groundskeepers, so he opened the window and jumped out, landing perfectly before simply walking, confident he wouldn't be spotted.

There were actually animals making their homes here, and Terry could hear birds chirping. All the greenery Terry was surrounded by reminded him of the few parks left in Gotham, set high above ground level, nearly as artificial as the rest of the city.

…This was not his city anymore though. It would not be HIS Gotham for decades.

Terry clenched his hands unconsciously. His Gotham was a bloated thing, big enough to nearly touch from the cliffs of Bruce's home. Bruce's manor was a dead place, surrounded by a black forest.

This was not his home. Not now anyway.

Terry turned and walked back in, the full impact of his time travel finally sinking in. He ignored Alfred's greeting and call for breakfast, instead making his way to the cave.

With a closer look, even the Cave wasn't his. The trophies were non-existent, the cave was perhaps half its current size, the antiquated car and jet rested where his own Batmobile should have been.

Terry moved to where he knew a training room was kept, only to be lost with the unfamiliar layout of the cave. This was ridiculous, Batman lost in his own slagging cave. It was… pathetic.

He punched a wall in frustration, only to be stopped by Alfred's voice.

"It is all so very different isn't it?" the man asked softly.

Terry gave a wry grin, "The Watchtower was completely new, so even when I felt out of place, it didn't feel so bad, but…" Terry trailed off.

"I feel like Rip van Winkle in reverse."

"Well, at least some literary standards are kept in the future," Alfred joked. "Especially when all one sees is bad news."

The two shared a comfortable silence before Alfred motioned Terry to follow. He led him to a training room, styled in a traditional Japanese manner, a remnant of Bruce's own training journey.

It lacked the high-tech holographic Synthoids Terry always wore out, but the cloth and wood dummies, along with the multiple sandbags would do just as well.

"I've noticed Master Bruce always enjoying physical exertion to calm himself down, I am not wrong that you are the same? Of course, I can't let you into the city so that you may have live targets, but these should perform decently"

"These aren't the… T's, but it's a nice substitute," Terry said, carefully omitting the word 'Jokerz.'

"Of course sir, Master Bruce is currently sleeping and he has expressed a wish to see you later," Alfred said before leaving.

Terry made sure the Butler had gone before carefully lifting his mask to reveal his nose. He smiled as he took in the scent of tiger balm and other assorted scents. Well, a Gym is a gym he thought as he punched a dummy. Too bad he couldn't take off his suit though, it would have been nice to feel his knuckles scrubbed raw after a punch. Anything to take his mind away from the past.

Hours later, Terry had a good enough lunch and met with Bruce out of costume, still in the Dojo.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at Terry's costumed form but seemingly accepted his need for privacy.

"So you going to tell me how you know my name? Or why you're not surprised I exist?" Terry asked.

Bruce just stared for a moment before beginning to talk.

"I want to see just how capable you really are," Bruce started slowly. "So we'll do this as fast as possible.

Terry cocked his head to the side, peeved at his questions being ignored and unsure just what Bruce meant. Pressing for more information, he was dismayed to see Bruce actually smile. When the Old Man smiled, that usually meant someone (namely Terry) was going to be taking a whole lot of pain.

But hey, maybe this was before the Old Man had been such a tightwad?

Terry flew into the wall with a thump, sure he'd just cracked something important before wheezing out, "Yeah this is… not how I wanted this to go."

Bruce hadn't even broken a sweat before saying "You're far too sloppy, and your guard leaves much to be desired. Don't I teach you anything?"

Terry shot up, hoping to catch the man off guard, but instead found himself rebuffed by a block before evading.

"Acrobatic though," Bruce noted approvingly. "At least I know you can dodge hits."

Terry lunged forward again, and the two Batmen exchanged blows, but Terry found himself eating the mat once more. Slaggit, sure he'd been holding back on his suit, but this was embarrassing.

"You're not trying very hard are you?" Bruce asked. "That suit, it's powered isn't it? Any reason you're not trying to hit me harder?"

Terry wiped off some spittle he was sure he spilled before saying "Classified."

He twisted on the ground, avoiding a brutal axe kick from an annoyed Bruce before he leapt and danced around the man, finally irritated enough to reach back and punch through a sandbag.

Bruce's eyes widened as he realized exactly what Terry would do before Terry kicked in his rocket boots and flew in to tackle Bruce. As the man made a recovery, Terry hurled the sand before getting off a solid straight to the other man's stomach hard enough to make the man wheeze.

"You…you cheated," Bruce swore.

"I won," Terry pointed out.

"Is that right?" Bruce asked as he fingered a smoke bomb he'd snatched from Terry's belt.

Terry barely had time to bring out his rebreather before the bomb went off and Bruce mercilessly pummeled the teenager.

The two of them both caught their breaths while Bruce took a chug from a bottle of water. "While you're here, I'll be teaching you martial arts. We'll focus on Krav Maga and Sambo, as it seems like you focus on getting things done quickly. If Nightwing shows up, he can help you out with your agility.'

"Sounds…good," Terry breathed out.

"I don't know just how the world is like in the future, so I'll stick to physical conditioning for now. Get you less reliant on that suit. And you can be sure that I'll teach you about being a detective."

"Yeah?"

"Hope you're not too attached to sleeping," Bruce smirked.

"As long as Alfred gets me food, I'll be fine." Terry shot back. "To be honest, the older you is harsher on my training."

"I see," Bruce murmured. "I'll be sure to not disappoint you then."

Terry had no answer to that.

Terry's next week was a blur of bumps and bruises. The miserable old taskmaster had taken Terry's bragging to heart. He'd been forced to remove his costume, and keep on an old cloth mask that stung terribly through all of his lessons. Bruce apparently thought he needed to make up for all the years Terry had not spent training to fight, and so attempted to cram what had been an eight year regime to a matter of weeks.

'Pick this lock in 15 seconds.'

'10 minutes to run 2 miles, go!'

The old bat had hurled rocks whenever he felt Terry had slacked, and forced knowledge down Terry's throat until his daydreams were filled with endless chemical formulas and their effects. When Terry shut his eyes, all he could see were countless tumblers falling into place.

On one memorable occasion, after ensuring that Terry could pull himself free of handcuffs, Bruce had just hurled the teenager into the waters next to the boat, forcing Terry to try to slip away while precious oxygen slipped away. Bruce's only response after a choking Terry swam up? Again.

And so it went, with Terry's only point of relief when Tim Drake had finally returned from meeting his Titan friends to Gotham.

"Hey Batman, I'm- whoa!" Robin yelped as he shifted to avoid Terry's thrown form.

"Uh, who's this?" he asked.

Batman gave Robin a nod of greeting before saying "My successor. From the future apparently."

Terry's body chose that moment to throw up the bits of fruit he'd managed to choke down.

"Uh huh," Robin said, giving Terry's prone form an unsure look. "This is going to be one of those weeks isn't it?"

"What weeks?" Bruce snapped.

"The ones where Superman comes over and we have to stop aliens or something," Robin said cheekily. "So anyway! What's up?"

Terry looked up from his position on the floor. "Hopefully I will as soon as the cave stops spinning."

Thankful Bruce had decided on a helmet today, Terry wiped a bit of… well it was something nasty, off his face and gi before turning to face Tim. "Robin huh? Nice to meet you Tim."

Tim smiled at being called his name. "Oooh, so you know me huh? I must famous in the future," he said, striking a heroic pose.

Terry hesitated before getting up. "Something like that… you're shorter than I thought."

Tim shot Terry a scowl before dropping to a more normal form.

"My growth spurt is coming in," he defended.

"Uh huh, sure it is twip," Terry said easily, still too disconcerted by Tim's behavior. It was hard to believe that the kid in front of him was going to be brainwashed by the Joker, before suffering decades of mental torture, coming out a broken shell of a man.

Robin raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar word before cheerily saying "Well, it's better than Boy Wonder I guess. Anything is better than that. Here, let me help you up."

Terry batted away the hand before picking himself up. "Sorry, it's just…"

"Yeah yeah, strong stubborn type. I got you," Robin shrugged off.

"It's not that, it's…"

Robin cocked his head to the side. "Cat got your tongue?"

'I don't trust you, I can't trust you. You killed hundreds with that satellite, you nearly killed Bruce, you were everything I feared and hated. You were my enemy and I wished you were dead,' Terry did not say. But no, that had been the Joker hadn't it? Tim had just been the unfortunate carrier, forced to see the madman carve up Gotham with no real control.

So… he had to at least try to get to know Tim. The real one, not the old man of his time, but the lively one of the past.

Terry raised his hand, "Terry," he said.

If Tim was surprised at how easily Terry had said his real name, he doubted it was a fake, he did not show it. Instead, he just put his laughably small hand to Terry's, and shook it firmly.

Terry couldn't help but shudder at the contact, half-expecting a surge of electricity from some hidden joy buzzer, but still held tight, taking in the boy's grip before letting go.

Bruce watched the two greet each other silently before finally entering the conversation. "Now that Robin's arrived, you have a new sparring partner. Go, and don't stop until I say so."

"What now?" Terry complained. "He just got here, and he's completely fresh while I've been your personal punching bag for the past hour."

"Tough." Batman glowered.

"Heh, don't let it get you down," Robin tried to assure. The gesture might have been a lot more comforting if Robin hadn't followed up with a side kick, hoping to catch Terry off guard.

Terry just barely got a block in time, and instead hurled a punch as retaliation.

"Oh shut up."

Terry was tired, sore, and aching in places he hadn't even known, but he still had power and reach over the sidekick. And slaggit all, he was the goddamn Batman. He'd never let himself lose to a Robin.

The next few weeks passed by without incident, as Terry continued to train. However, his exasperation at Bruce rose. After all, as appreciative as he might have been to being trained by the Old Man in his prime, Bruce hadn't done anything to help him get home. One day, his frustration finally reached it's limit, and he lashed out at Bruce while all three heroes ate breakfast.

"Why?"

Bruce didn't look up from the light meal Alfred had prepared as he asked "Why what?" fully aware of just what Terry was wanting.

"Why haven't you helped me go back?"

Robin's keen danger sense told him to back away while there was still time, and he hastily grabbed his bowl of cereal before leaving the dining room.

"I have."

"Bullshit," Terry snarled. "All you've been doing is beating me up whenever you're not on patrol. You haven't helped at all. What, are you expecting me to stay so that you can be Batman just a bit longer? Hoping that if I don't go back, that heart attack won't cripple you? Newsflash, I earned your name from you, and the Old Man needs my help. You aren't a lone wolf okay?"

Bruce didn't even flinch as Terry revealed just how decrepit he must have become to rely on Terry.

"Dealing with Time Travelers is problematic. The trouble that comes with trying to find one is that they have all of time to hide in."

"Speaking from personal experience? Is that how you know my name?" Terry dug.

"Yes. And believe me, I hope that you'll never see me young once you go back home. I try not to remember those memories"

Terry's mind raced as he tried to figure out what Bruce meant by that. If the two Batmen had met each other in a time so bad, he never wanted to think about it, something big was happening in his future. "That bad huh?"

The smell of Terry's flesh cooking beneath electrified whips flowed across Bruce's nose before he said. "Worse. But with any luck, you won't see that future. Trust me on that."

The two were silent, leaving a ridiculous scene. A quiet billionaire playboy working his way through a grapefruit, and a cybernetic Batman taking sips of water, with only his chin and mouth uncovered.

"I do think it's time we tried other methods to get you home. We'll have to rely on," and here Bruce grimaced. "Magic."

"Huh, never had to deal with that. ESP sure, but never magic."

"You're lucky then," Bruce admitted before switching gears. "We'll go see a practioner here in Gotham."

"We? I'm coming with you?"

"Yes. But only if you follow my directions. And do not let your guard down around him. This man is dangerous."

"Where are we going? Arkham? This guy an enemy of yours?"

"Enemy. Friend. Something in between. His name is Jason Blood."