Disclaimer: not mine

Wow! People seem to love this so far, was not expecting so much since it's an odd crossover.

Classes have started up so might be slower updating now.

Getting Mandalorian names from websites and other fics. Finding info on Jaster and his men is not easy!

How often do you want looks at what's going on in the DC world with no Tim?

Chapter 2

Tim lay on the bed, finally feeling awake again. There'd been that first time but since then he'd been so tired, only waking for food or when they checked him over. It was always Mij, touching him only, when necessary, gentle and soft spoken even when he struggled to find the right words in English or basic as they called it. His throat and knee felt a lot better and he thought he could probably walk. Could he talk though? That was honestly what scared him the most. Sure, he knew the basics of sign language, but he doubted it was the same as the local version, if they had one outside of battle signs.

Everyone seemed to wear armour, even the doctors, but he couldn't really ask questions. Though Mij would talk to him, not that Tim remembered a lot of it, too groggy.

"Good morning ad," Mij greeted, setting his breakfast tray down, and Tim nodded, pushing himself up to sit. "Any pain?" he asked, and Tim shook his head. "Well then, eat up, then we'll take a look."

Tim grabbed the spoon and dug into the local variant of porridge and some kind of fruit. He'd never had spicey porridge before and Mij had even said this had basically no spices! He was kind of worried about the normal food on the ship. Once he was done, Mij moved around him with the now familiar machines, seeming pleased with the results before focusing on his knee.

"Stretch it out fully," he ordered and Tim stretched his leg out flat. "Good, bend the knee as far as you can without pain."

Once again Tim did as told folding his leg under himself.

"Flexible. Now let's see your throat."

Tipping his head back was harder because he remembered the flash of a blade. It hadn't been meant for his throat but he'd gone to dodge and been too hurt to do so properly, landing at a weird angle. Very gently, Mij touched the skin, checking the wound. He couldn't help flinching slightly as the pressure increased.

"Easy ad," Mij murmured, and Tim closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. "All done," he announced, hands moving from Tim's neck. He then moved aside for a moment before returning with a cup of water. "Do you think you can try and speak? Just something short and simple."

Tim bit his lip, this was it. Had they healed the damage or had Joker stolen his voice forever? Best to get it over with and know, right? But he was scared. And then a hand was offered, gloves still gone from where he'd been checking Tim over, and Tim hesitantly took the hand. He swallowed a few times to make sure his throat and mouth were moist and then went to speak only to freeze, finding he was gripping tightly to Mij's hand.

"It's alright, there's no rush ad, take your time," the man was murmuring.

He closed his eyes and fell into one of the meditations he had learnt from Rahul Lama, calming his body. He had to know.

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Mij didn't flinch at the bruising grip on his hand, the ad was understandably scared that his voice was gone but if that was the case he would look for another way to help him speak. Prosthetic limbs were common enough, even using it for damage ears, but he hadn't seen much on voices. He'd likely have to check Republic sources for that, but he'd do it to help an ad.

"It's alright, there's no rush ad, take your time," he murmured, seeing him swallowing rapidly. He kept speaking gently to offer comfort, Mando and basic mixing, and he watched as the ad calmed, posture relaxing and breathing evening out…meditation? That was not a common thing to teach outside of the Jetii and some old religious orders. Was he Jetii'ad? That would explain how he had panicked at seeing them, but not his seeming to not know what a Wookie was. Still, maybe he should run the blood test to be sure.

"Tttt…"

He blinked and then smiled, relieved, it wasn't a word but it was a definite noise.

"Tt...m…" Blue eyes opened, appearing frustrated, and he took another deep breath but then reached for the water, sipping. "T…im."

"Tim?" Mij asked, and the ad nodded, sinking back against the medical bed. That was not a word he knew, unless… "Your name?"

And the ad…Tim smiled.

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Jaster opened the message from Mij, relieved by the contents.

"Buir?"

"Our guest's name is Tim," he told Jango.

"He can talk?" Jango straightened up.

He knew Jango wanted friends his own age, Myles and Silas were the closest but Myles was five years older while Silas was two years younger and technically shouldn't even be with them at the moment. Kid hadn't undergone his verd'goten yet after all but he'd been helping out around the ship to get ready and the next thing they knew, they were in hyperspace with one very confused and sleepy ad. No one had seen him curled up asleep in the cargo bay. If they couldn't find Tim's family…

"You want to adopt him, don't you?" Jango asked, watching him.

"Tim was very vehement that it was not his family who hurt him. The goal is to return him to his home if at all possible."

"And if it isn't?" Jango pressed, and Jaster sighed.

"Yes, but not without your agreement. You are my son Jango."

Jango nodded. Hopefully he would give the other boy a chance. "You're not going to go see him?"

"Not until Mij clears it, his note said he barely got his name out. So, he's not ready for actual talking yet and our last conversation was enough for now."

"So, what are you going to do with Montross?" Jango changed the subject.

Except not fully since if they had not found Tim then they would not have realised Montross was a traitor. With him locked up in the brig and reinforcements, they had found the captured men and freed them. Sadly, Tor had run rather than face him but they had dealt a blow to his forces. And now he had to decide what to do with his second and who to name in his place. Walon maybe?

"He will be declared dar'manda," he murmured. There was no other choice there, he had attempted to have his Mand'alor killed after all. His armour would be taken from him and then what? Death? Many would call for it but to kill someone he had trusted for years was not an easy decision.

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Tim walked several laps around the medical room, his knee not even twinging thankfully. He'd been given a spray for his throat to help sooth it as he tried to talk more and now…now he was being discharged. He didn't know what would happen now, Mr Mereel said they would help him get home, but what would that mean? Remaining on the ship while they looked for Earth? Staying on a planet while they occasionally looked?

The door opened to reveal someone new, taller than him though not by a lot and he looked human too, helmet hooked to something at his waist. Tim thought they were around the same age…was this Mereel's son then? Or were there more teenagers aboard?

The teen spoke with Mij in their own language and then approached.

"Jango Fett, Buir asked me to show you to your room."

Tim frowned slightly at the unknown word.

"Parent," Mij called for him. "Jango is Jaster's son."

But with a different last name? Then again who knew how they did names here.

"Tim," he rasped out and then Jango offered his arm. Tim reached out slowly but it was his forearm that Jango gripped, not his hand.

"Su cuy'gar Tim," Jango answered, he seemed a bit awkward but genuine enough so Tim smiled back at him, unable to speak enough to return the greeting. "Ready?"

Tim looked at Mij who nodded, a gentle expression on his face. He glanced down at the medical gown and they both chuckled in response, then Mij handed him a bundle of black.

"It won't be a good fit, you're a bit smaller than most of the human or near-human crew, but it's the best we could do for now," the doctor explained, and Tim nodded.

He took the fabric and then stepped into the small bathroom. It was one piece, kind of like Nightwing's uniform but all black. He took off the gown and then began pulling the stretchy material on, it was warm and clingy but comfortable. It was also definitely at least two sizes too big so he had to roll the legs and sleeves up a bit. So embarrassing. He wasn't small for his age! Well…maybe a little but not that much!

He left the bathroom and caught the amused looks on Mij and Jango's faces.

"Come on, I'll show you your bunk."

Tim nodded and slowly followed Jango out of the only room he'd seen since waking. The hallways were wider than he expected, armoured figures moving about, some with helmets and some without. And they seemed to be a mix of species. He'd never seen so many obvious aliens of different kinds together and he found himself shifting closer to Jango.

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Jango wasn't sure what to think of Tim, except that it sounded like it was painful for him to talk still. He seemed easy going, a bit hesitant but that probably wasn't surprising since he was in a strange place. A glance at the other teen revealed wide eyes, Tim shifting closer to him as the crew moved about them. Hmm…had he never been off his home planet before? It seemed to be the Mando of different obviously different species that were throwing him off.

They barely knew anything about him except his age and now his name, or at least part of his name. The way he moved though…Tim was trained in some form of fighting. That was good if he ended up in Jaster's care for good. Many Mando came to them untrained while others had previous martial training. At Tim's age, it was good to have training since he would catch up with the other Foundlings his age quicker.

He made it to a room that had been cleared out, Myles would be sharing with him for the rest of their time on the ship. He had volunteered to give Tim his room before anyone else had gotten the chance to speak. He'd left some datapads behind, probably the beginner Mando modules but other than that the room was bare, except the standard bedding.

"Room's yours, take whichever bunk you prefer," Jango told him. "There's a private fresher through that door." He figured that was why Myles had given up his room, so Tim would have privacy. "Here, I'll show you the door controls."

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Tim sat down on the bottom bunk, looking around. The room was bare but he got the feeling it hadn't been before, had someone given up their room for him? He felt bad about that, he didn't want to cause issues. He didn't know what to do, was he allowed to leave the room?

He wanted to be home, even in the empty Drake Manor. But the thought of Wayne Manor, of Bruce ruffling his hair or Dick tossing him in the air, of Alfred nodding proudly and slipping him a cookie…he wanted it desperately. But the thought of Gotham also scared him. The Joker…he shivered at the memory of his voice, of the pain and terror. He'd wanted Tim…wanted to change him, drive him as insane as he was…remake him in his own image. It made him feel sick to think of.

And his team…Kon, Bart, Cassie, and the new members Secret and Arrowette, Cissie. He'd enjoyed helping Secret adjust to being with the team, to live without the fear of being caged again because they wouldn't allow it. He hoped that Cassie had taken command, Kon would want it but he wasn't ready for it. He might have received the tube training but that didn't equal real life experience. He wanted his friends, his chosen family. He missed the Super-Cycle too

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Kon sat in his room, staring at their team photo, fingers tracing over Rob's form. Why hadn't Batman called them in earlier, when Robin was taken? They would have dropped everything to save him from the Joker. But by the time Batman called…their leader was gone. Other than the blood, there was no sign of him anywhere.

He wasn't dead, he couldn't be! Rob was his first real friend; he had given him a chance when not even Superman would. They were best friends, even if he didn't know his real name. It didn't bother him, he knew Robin trusted him, it was Batman who insisted he keep his id secret so they all accepted it.

Robin couldn't be dead, he would know, right? He would have heard his heart stop if he had died. He would have. They had to find him.

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Mij looked over the results of Tim's various tests. His voice might have a permanent rasp to it but at least he would still have a voice. No sign of any diseases but also none of the standard immunisations. And near-human…maybe? There were some differences in his genetics but Mij knew there were a lot of medical alterations to the base human species to ensure better health and longer lives…and Tim was missing all of those. And it seemed he had suffered some mild malnutrition that appeared to be being corrected more recently. Most of the injuries seemed to be recent, the last year or so, the same timeline as the improvement in nutrition.

And then the results from the Republic standard test popped up and he checked the result chart. Well, that was interesting.

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Jaster tapped on the door and it opened after a few moments to reveal Tim. "Did Jango show you around or just to your bunk?"

The boy blinked and then tapped the door.

"It's time for mid-meal, I'll show you to the mess. You're free to make use of it whenever you're hungry, we're well stocked on rations," Jaster assured him, the ad was too skinny.

Tim nodded and followed him, Jaster explaining how to navigate the ship. The ad hesitated at the entry, taking in the crowd.

"No one will hurt you," he promised again.

Tim nodded and followed him inside. He showed the ad where things were, serving him the blander food, and then led him to the table.

"If you want to try adding spices, you can try these, might be best not to put them right on the food though," he warned, pointing out the bottles, and Tim nodded, picking them up to look over curiously.

Jaster was glad he had taken the time years ago to learn to speak basic as well as he did Mando. The ad wouldn't be able to communicate with a lot of the crew even once he got his voice back fully.

"Th...ank," Tim rasped out.

"Don't stress your voice ad. And there is no debt."

That got a wary look, obviously the boy assumed there would be a price for their aid, not surprising really.

"You are an ad and, in our care, no matter how temporarily. Therefore, your needs and care fall to me. We're making a supply stop on a nearby planet, so we'll get you some clothing that will fit you. We have learning modules if you want to learn our language but we can also pick up Republic modules if you want to learn to write basic in the galactic standard way."

Tim nodded cautiously. What kind of world was he from to expect everything to come at a cost when he was just a child? He bore no chip, no marks of a slave collar so it didn't seem to be that. They'd freed plenty of slaves over the years, he knew what they were like and it wasn't that. When they found his home, they would need to carefully investigate his family and ensure he was truly safe and loved there.

Jaster could admit he felt drawn to Tim, wanted him in his aliit, but as long as his own cared for him then he would let the ad go.

He drew out a datapad with star maps on it. He brought them up and held it between them. "I thought we could start looking for your home."

Tim nodded and began looking over the maps, shaking his head, so Jaster brought up the next ones.

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Tim had been fascinated by Superman, the Lanterns…so once he had access to the bat systems, he had enjoyed looking at the maps they held of the Lanterns patrol sectors. His basically photographic memory meant he remembered them and nothing Mr Mereel was showing him looked at all familiar.

"Could you draw some constellations known on your world? Perhaps someone will recognise them."

Tim nodded and took the offered tools drawing out some of the best-known constellations and then the basic design of the solar system, circling the third planet from the sun.

"Your home?"

Tim nodded. "Ee…" he stopped and swallowed. "Earth."

"Earth…I don't recognise that name but I will query all of the Haat Mando'ade. Many have spent years as mercenaries and bounty hunters spread across the galaxy."

Tim nodded but he honestly didn't think anyone would recognise it. He had the sinking feeling he was further from home than anyone was thinking.

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Mij smiled as Tim appeared in the doorway of the medical bay, looking pleased with himself. He was learning to navigate the ship, good. "Su cuy'gar Tim," he greeted, getting a wave in response as Tim joined him, head tilted to the side curiously.

"I wanted to discuss some of your test results with you," he explained, pulling out a stool for him to sit on so Tim did. "I found no trace of any diseases but you are also missing any immunisations, which puts you at risk. We've all had ours but that doesn't rule out that we could have been exposed."

Blue eyes went wide, the concern obvious, so he knew what Mij was talking about. He imitated injecting his arm.

"You've had inoculations?" he asked, and Tim nodded. "Tim…do your people have space travel?" if that was true then how had he ended up on Korda Six?

Tim held his hand up and wiggled it side to side. He pulled out the spray and used it, swallowing a few times. "Not o…ours."

Mij frowned, trying to decide the most likely meaning. "You use another worlds technology?"

Tim nodded and then drew something new…a space station in orbit of the third planet.

"So, you have a space station but not ships?" he clarified, getting another nod.

Well, that explained his lack of inoculations, he must have ones for his world but not others. And…it explained the differences that had Mij considering he might be near-human rather than human.

"I'd like to give you the inoculations, it would need to be in batches to let your immune system adjust. I'm worried if you don't have them."

Tim bit his lip but then nodded.

"Thank you, Tim," he smiled at the ad. He brought out the first injector, letting Tim look it over since it was obviously different to what he was used to.

He watched Tim try to roll the sleeve up enough before giving up and stripping to the waist. The ad shrugged at him, both of them knowing Mij had already seen it all after all. He didn't seem uncomfortable being seen so why had he panicked in the tank? Various worlds had different views on nudity. Perhaps it had been the fear of a lack of undergarments that had caused the panic? An ad with strangers, that was very likely taboo, it was in many human societies to keep ad safe.

He pressed the injector to Tim's arm, feeling him tense a bit but then it was done. "I'd like you to wear a medical monitor, just to be safe. If your people have never had these shots then we can't say for sure there won't be side effects." He held the wrist monitor up and Tim looked it over so he handed it to him, seeing the way sure and nimble fingers checked it over. He had some experience working with technology then. He slipped it onto his wrist, watching the screen as readouts went active.

"We found evidence of mild though long-term malnutrition that has begun to be corrected," he mentioned gently, watching pale cheeks turn pink, Tim not meeting his eyes. "It is not an uncommon finding in Foundlings," he assured him, Tim looking up in curiosity.

"Foun…dlings?"

"Ad who are taken in by Mando due to a lack of family or because they have been removed from unsuitable guardians."

Tim smiled and pointed to himself.

"You are already a foundling then?"

Tim nodded.

"And that is why the malnutrition has begun being corrected." Well, that complicated the Mand'alor's possible claim then, but Tim was nodding again. "And the broken bones?"

Tim lifted his closed fits in an unfamiliar guard position.

"Fighting?" he asked and Tim waved his hand again. "Training?" that got a firmer motion. So mostly training. "Military?"

Tim huffed softly. "No…differ…t…" his frustration was obvious.

"Don't push Tim, you need to let your vocal cords recover."

He frowned but nodded. Mij understood, being unable to communicate properly, especially in a new society, would be frustrating and even scary. Sadly, the translators they'd tried hadn't recognised his written language so that ruled out downloading a text to speech program or even just reading what he wanted to say, they couldn't even buy a protocol droid to help him. It could take months for his voice to recover as much as possible, he didn't think it would be a full recovery but enough that he'd be able to talk. They'd just have to be patient and hopefully he could pick up reading and writing quickly.

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"No! We're not doing this," Dick growled, arms crossed over his chest. He couldn't believe it. There was no body, nothing. They were not faking Tim's death! "No one has even noticed he's missing yet; we're got time. Tim's out there someone relying on us to find him."

"How? You saw the blood, Dick; he couldn't survive that without immediate help and even then, his chances would have been low. Tim…Tim is dead, you're going to have to accept that," Bruce stared at him, eyes dark.

He shook his head and stormed away, not willing to listen. No, he knew Tim was alive. He trusted his instincts, he always had.

TBC…

dar'manda - a state of not being Mandalorian - not an outsider, but one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity and his soul - regarded with absolute dread by most traditionally minded Mando'ade