Chapter Text
"There's not a lot of light left in the sky. There's not a lot of time left for us now."
- A World Without Words by Ian Landuyt
Tim's head is pounding.
He's used to it, really. It does most days, but this is different from sleep deprivation. This isn't just a migraine, no, but it's still familiar.
A hit to the head always ends with at least two people checking for a concussion.
The floor beneath him is cold, rough. He twitches his fingers, still wearing gloves. Scrunching his face, he feels the fabric of his mask stuck to his face.
A good sign.
If someone kidnapped him, the chances of escaping on his own are much higher for Red Robin, than Timothy Drake.
To be honest, he's getting tired of acting like he can't undo the - frankly boring - knots the novice kidnappers use.
Cautiously, he opens his eyes. After a few blinks, his eyes adjust to the darkness, recognising the stalactites above his head.
It's just the cave.
If he can get upstairs before anyone sees him, maybe Tim could avoid a concussion check.
He does still need to write the patrol report.
What happened on patrol?
He sat up, feeling lightheaded as his vision blurred for a few moments.
No, they hadn't gone out yet. The last thing Tim remembers... Zatanna putting a spell on... Batcow?
Oh, yes!
Batcow had somehow become a calf. Tim remembers finding Damian's constipated expression hilarious as he demanded she reverse it.
"Nruter ot erofeb." Then black.
A distorted groan sounds from beside him. Red Hood lays a few feet away, stirring gently.
"Hey Hood, you ok?"
"Peachy." Jason replies, sitting up slowly. Tim helps him to his feet. "What happened?"
"I think we got knocked out by Zatanna's spell."
"Why aren't we in med bay?" Jason makes a good point. The others usually would've dragged them over.
Wandering through the cave, a strange sense of unfamiliarity tickled the back of his mind. Jason halted in his tracks, staring at a blank space in the cave. A space, Tim has never seen empty.
"It only took seven years!" Jason threw his hands up in the air. "Finally."
Bruce must have taken down Jason's memorial. It was hard to look at sometimes - when Jason was dead - the reminder of who Tim needed to live up to.
When Jason came back - with a duffle bag of severed heads - it was a reminder, Tim had slithered his way into this family.
Nowadays, Jason just argues that he's here now, Bruce doesn't need a memorial to someone who's alive. Bruce disagrees.
Tim still doesn't enjoy looking at the uniform, cleaned of blood, stitches barely holding the tattered fabric together.
Leaving Jason to stare at the empty air, Tim slinks onto the silky white sheets of the med bay. It's always warmer here than the rest of the cave.
He notices there's only one bed. The med bay always has enough for everyone, though it hasn't happened yet, it's ready if the entire team is out of commission.
Ripping the thin, fluffy blanket from under the bed, Tim wraps the blue fabric around his shoulders. He's regretting not grabbing some coffee before trying to think. He considers taking something for drilling sensation at the back of his skull, but ultimately decides to focus on the part of his brain that is saying something is wrong.
Tim finds Jason sat at the Batcomputer. Those screens are... outdated, to say the least. The Cave always receives the latest tech from Lucius.
Tim is starting to realise why.
"Who do you think you are?" Batman questions from behind them.
Tim doesn't flinch at the sudden presence, it's been a long time since he has. Part of the job description, really.
"Someone who's pretty happy you took down that creepy memorial. I might stay all weekend." Jason replies as Tim turned around to see his Dad.
"What- what are you wearing, B?" He asks, barely holding back a laugh as he takes in the grey suit, yellow symbol and blue cape. Tim hasn't seen that suit since he took pictures of the first dynamic duo, a piece of information that doesn't go unnoticed.
"I won't ask again. Who. Are. You?" His voice deepens, along with his signature scowl.
"Woah, B, it's just us. RR and Hood." Tim raised his hands gently. Amnesia? Time travel? Dimension travel? The theories run through his head, the latter two sounding more and more likely.
"Hood? Red Hood?"
"Yeah B, it's me." Jason spoke calmly, standing from the chair.
"How did you get into my cave?" Cold anger radiates from his shoulders. The shoulders covered by that not-very-shadowy, blue cape.
"Rode my motorbike through the waterfall entrance. Double R came down through the grandfather's clock." He holds his hands in a placating manner, creeping closer.
"How do you know about the clock?" Batman rushes forwards, grabbing Hood by the collar of his jacket.
"It's alright B, you know us." Tim tries, shifting towards them, hoping this is just a memory spell gone wrong.
"You are both going in a cell."
Well, this is excellent. Someone will be down eventually to clear things up (hopefully). Until then, it's best to keep the situation calm, if only B would agree.
Other than a simple bed, the lone cell is sparse of life and joy. With 3 white metal walls and one transparent, Tim could only see one inconspicuous area of the cave. They kept nothing important within eyesight of the cell.
Cells.
Again, there's only one.
"When's Agent A's usual tea drop-off times?"
"Ten, midnight and two." Tim consults the clock in his mask lenses. "It's 9:30."
There's the tell-tale sound of the zeta tube firing up, announcing Wonder Woman.
"I am glad you asked for help, Batman." The familiar voice says from afar.
"I am not asking for help. These people infiltrated the cave. They are a potential threat to the entire League."
"Nice going Magpie, you're a 'potential threat' to the League again." Tim smirks half-heartedly, the echo of his voice causing the pain in his head to flare.
"Who are you calling Magpie?" Jason makes for a perfect distraction.
"I could have said Skunk, that white streak isn't doing you any favours."
"Who said they'd develop a hair dye to cut through pit white hair? Oh, that's right, it was you." Jason has gotten quite good at showing facial expressions from behind a helmet, or maybe Tim just knows him well enough now.
Tim wants to laugh, but something is wrong with the cave, wrong with Bruce.
"Hey Aunt Di, can you tell Bruce he's paranoid again?" Jason asks nonchalantly. Tim can almost see the smile that Jay reserves for his favourite hero.
Batman scowls, eyes likely narrowing behind the white lenses. Wonder Woman takes her lasso into her hands, stepping into the cell and wrapping it around their hands as it glows.
Diana doesn't recognise them either.
"How do you know Batman's identity? The lasso of truth compels you."
"Our Dad told us." Jason blurts out, fists tightening.
"Who is your father?"
"The answer could affect the timeline." Tim answers immediately, risking his theory.
Batman goes taut, imperceptible to anyone who isn't family. "Explain."
"I believe we have accidentally travelled back in time, or to another dimension."
The white eyes of Jason's helmet bore into Bruce's face. "Probably dimension travel," he says, turning to Tim again, "Di didn't seem all that surprised to hear B's name. Doesn't look like Big wing is around yet to force him to."
That's true. The only suit display was empty, clearly for a fully grown adult. Plus, it had taken Dick over a year as Robin to trick B into telling his co-workers (friends) his name.
"Why would we believe you?"
Jason chuckles. "You trained us. We're your fa-friends. We know your favourite gargoyle is on the east corner of Gotham City Bank, and you hate green beans with a silent passion."
"I work alone." The softening of his mouth betrays his words.
"Not where we're from." Tim replies, relaxing his shoulders as much as he can.
"Why are you here?" The lasso glows brighter again under Diana's words.
"For patrol." Jason pauses, tapping his finger absentmindedly against his thigh. "Unless you mean this universe?"
"Both."
"It's all Batcow's fault really." Jason groans at the release of information.
Batman's eyes narrow in confusion. "Bat... cow?"
"She's Demon spawn's cow." Tim answers in a matter-of-fact way. If they can keep names and some information away, maybe the timeline of this universe won't fall apart.
"I... see." Maybe it wouldn't be too bad, confusing Bruce for a few hours until Zatanna can bring them home. "What are your names?"
The lasso pushes the words against his teeth, causing an ache in his jaw as he tried fruitlessly to resist.
"I'm Red Hood, he's RR." Jason spoke, clutching his helmet in pain.
"Red Hood? I would never work with a criminal."
"First of all: Catwoman." Jason spoke pointedly, "Secondly, I stole the name. Don't compare me to that monster." His voice darkened at the end, a toxic green leaking out of the white lenses.
"You stole it to piss off B."
"Shut up, Replacement." The lenses of his helmet return to their usual white colour.
Bruce just lets out a sigh. "Do either of you plan to hurt anyone?"
"No."
"Only on patrol."
"Will someone from your home be able to retrieve you?"
A smile pulls at Tim's face. It's amazing Bruce is capable of using his tired Dad voice, when he hasn't even met Dick yet, though he does have experience working with Barry and Hal "Yes, they can."
"Then you will stay here until they do." He says, unwrapping the lasso from their hands. "What else can I call you?"
Tim, Timothy, Red Robin, Baby bird.
"Peter." Jason says, pulling off his helmet and domino to reveal his green eyes and a shock of white hair.
Middle name. That's ok. Tim can get used to responding to that.
"Jackson." He also removed his domino mask, taking his gloves off too, as he stood. "Don't try a DNA test, please?"
Bruce considers it for a moment, then nodded carefully.
"Well, I suppose I'll leave them in your care, Batman. Make sure you come to the next team building exercise." She smiles as she slaps him on the shoulder.
"I look forward to meeting you both in the future, friends of Batman." She turns to leave and moments later, Tim hears the Zeta tube announce her departure.
"You can stay upstairs." Bruce says, leading them out of the cell hesitantly. "There are spare clothes in the changing room here."
Jason raised an eyebrow. "We have been here before, you know?"
"Hn." Bruce unbuckled his utility belt, removing his cowl.
He looks so young. There's none of the lines on his face that Tim has become so familiar with. Even his hair is completely black, not a single fleck of grey hair.
For the first time, Tim realises this really isn't the Bruce he knows.
"Damn, how old are you?" Jason asks, leaning in to get a better look.
Bruce leans back in surprise. "Twenty-two."
He knows Bruce was young when he took in Dick, but Tim is not at all ready to deal with B and Jason being the same age.
They are not going to get on like a house on fire.
Most likely there will be a fire.
"We cannot be the same age."
"Are we not usually?"
Jason shakes his head, brushing his hand through his hair in disbelief. "No. Of course not. This is unbelievable."
Bruce nods slowly, probably preparing to take extensive notes. "Hn."
So, the cave might be a bit out of date - some universes exist in different times - that's absolutely fine. But would it kill Bruce to put a thought to general health and safety?
There's not even a handrail on the slippery, stone staircase up to the Manor. Completely wheelchair inaccessible too.
Tim isn't wearing shoes either. 'No suits upstairs' extends to his Red Robin boots, unfortunately, and Bruce doesn't have spare shoes in the cave. The borrowed t-shirt and joggers hang a bit too loosely on his frame.
His Dad is so under prepared.
How did Dick survive? Alfred, probably.
The warm light from the fire fills Bruce's study, shadows flickering against the walls. A welcome reprieve from the harsh white light in the cave, contrasting in sharp lines with the abyss-like darkness in the cave.
Maybe he should look into getting some fun mood lighting for the cave. A simple sensor on the entrances to trigger ominous orchestral music and the lights to dim.
Barbara would probably help Tim keep it up and running until they could get sufficient blackmail material.
Bruce leads them towards the kitchen, giving them a short tour, as if they hadn't lived here for years.
The soft slap of bare feet against the wooden flooring halts when Tim sets his eyes on Alfred. He's leaning over his favourite large pot, stirring gently.
Tim has never seen Alfred without a full head of white hair. He's the same. Just as limber and full of life, there's that familiar twinkle in his eyes as he turns to see them.
"Master Bruce, you have brought guests."
"They've been... displaced from their dimension, Al."
Al? Tim has never heard Bruce call Alfred, Al.
Alfred raises a cautionary eyebrow. "Will they be staying?"
"For now."
"Hey Alfie. Nice to meet you for the first time, again." Jason smiles, moving closer. "Call me Peter."
When Alfred offers a handshake, Jason pulls the older man in for a quick squeeze, releasing instantly.
"And I'm Jackson." Tim says, sinking into a stool at the counter, the headache leaning into a tiredness that pulls at his bones, like he's walking through water.
"For the first time 'again'?" Alfred asks, already preparing the tea set.
"Also from the future. We're all... very close- friends." Jason says, examining the book sat by the stove, Alfred's blue leather bookmark sticking out.
"I hope you aren't planning to head out, Master Bruce."
B halts in the doorway. "You bruised your ribs two days ago." Tim is remembering how much of a hypocrite young Bruce is. When Tim bruised his ribs last month, Bruce benched him for a week until he healed.
"Surely Captain Gordon can keep the city from falling apart for one more night, Master Bruce?" He lays the guilt on masterfully, pouring the camomile.
Bruce glances at Alfred, hand ghosting away from his purpled ribs. "I'm fine. The city needs me."
"Not if you're injured." Tim says, beckoning him back towards the kitchen counter, steaming tea waiting patiently.
It's already late by bat standards, Tim's brain is throbbing against the back of his skull, they've been thrown into another dimension, and now Bruce is trying to go on patrol while injured.
"Look, we can talk more in the morning. Let's all just drink some flower water and get some sleep, ok?" Jason says calmly, downing the tea like it's a shot.
Or Tim could go through the Batcomputer and figure out how close this world is to their own. He might be a little rusty on Batman's earliest years - not being born yet will do that to you - but he could make a pretty good guess.
Tim's blinks definitely aren't getting longer.
Jason grabs his arm gently, tugging him towards the tea and shortbread. He's pulled somewhat unceremoniously onto a stool, a plate and cup in front of him.
"You've got that 'haven't eaten or slept in twelve hours' look." Jason frowns.
The shortbread is warm, the buttery scent already wafting up to his nose. "I was a little busy falling through dimensions."
"Just eat before you fall asleep in the kitchen, Jackson."
"Who are you, again? I don't have a brother called Peter." Tim says, head drooping slightly. Jason sighs but Tim concedes, taking a bite.
When they finish, Alfred begins leading them upstairs. The house is strange, twenty years too early. The pictures on the walls are almost frozen, perfectly preserving the family of three.
Alfred isn't even in these. Did Dick or Jason have to convince him to join? Was Alfred simply not in them before?
Tim has spent the most recent third of his life in this house, but it's strangely unfamiliar. Like that blue vase, he remembers breaking that when he was fourteen, skateboarding inside. Now it's just sitting, waiting to be broken.
"You will find some necessities inside, please let me know if you need anything." Alfred points to Dick and Jason's rooms, the first doors down from Bruce's.
Tim's is the next one along and his bed is calling. Jason seems to have the same idea, heading into his own room, instead of the one directed to him.
"Goodnight Alfie." Tim calls out with aching limbs. He pushes open his room and collapses onto the bed, it still creaks the same way.
His gallery wall of photos is bare, showing muted green wallpaper. The bedsheets are a plain white cotton, not his. The broad wooden desk is clear of clutter and half solved case files. He doesn't open the wardrobe, knowing it will be empty too.
It's not his room. But it is.
This room, this house, this Bruce, this Alfred, this entire universe.
Familiar, but not.
...