Chapter Text
Before
Mad with grief. That’s what they would say he was: mad with grief. And Tim honestly couldn’t disagree with them. After all, why else would he be sitting in a dark, cluttered, subterranean lab in Paris, watching in horror as his legacy as a mad scientist was solidified.
Tim stared at the monitor, watching as the little green line mocked him with each rise and fall. A heartbeat. His desperate attempt at getting some semblance of his best friend back had a heartbeat.
Tim took a shaky breath; he had just brought something to life. He had created a life. Not just any life, but the life of a clone, a clone made up of both Conner and Tim’s DNA.
The intent in the DNA mixing wasn’t to make some weird, horrifying clone baby. It was just to stabilize the genetic makeup of the experiment, that was all. Lord knew he wasn’t getting a willing donor anytime soon, so Tim had been forced to use his own. That was all it was.
But now there was a heart beating in the glass pod in front of him, a vicious mockery of a mother’s womb, and Tim was forced to face the startling, horrifying reality: Robin was a mad scientist. Robin had just created a baby with his dead friend’s stolen DNA. Tim had just made Robin the same as Frankenstein, the same as Lex Luthor, tainting a legacy that he had already forced himself into. God, what would Dick and Jason say if they saw how he was honoring the R? What would Bruce say? … what would Conner say?
He should end it. Cut off the experiment now. Euthanize the fetus, drain the pod, and pretend this all never happened. But, as Tim went to inject the pod with a euthanizing agent, he heard the steady beeping of the heart monitor, looked at the tiny, fragile life he had created, and found that he just couldn’t do it. This wasn’t the same as a mother with an unwanted child, this life wasn’t forced on him, it wasn’t unexpected; Tim had knowingly, willingly, of his own volition created this life. How much of a monster would he be if he created it, only to take it away?
Tim threw the syringe at the ground, watching the glass shatter and the euthanizing agent pool on the cold, concrete floor. He looked back up at the baby he made, at what all logic could point to only as being his son. And fuck, wasn’t that something to think about?
“I… am so sorry, ” Tim whispered to his son, “I am so, so sorry for doing this to you. It was wrong, it was so, so wrong but… but none of that is your fault. I can’t… I can’t kill you for my mistake.” Slowly, almost tenderly, Tim placed his gloved hand on the glass, watching the little bundle of flesh float peacefully, “So I’ll… I’ll do right by you. I swear. I’ll find a replacement, hang up the R, then come back and raise you. Yeah… yeah, I’ll do that. I’ll come back and I’ll raise you right. I’ll do everything I can for you. I have to… I owe you that much, at least.”
Tim quickly fiddled with the controls of the pod; the clone baby was set to grow at an accelerated rate, because the original goal was to grow him up into early teenhood. Like Conner had been. But plans change; Tim slowed the aging process down. By the time he found a replacement for him and hung up the R, then he’d be able to come back and raise the baby. By then, he should have aged just enough to look like a two-month-old. Yeah. That would work.
It had to work.
God, he was in so far over his head.
Tim turned away, shutting off the lights and letting the pod continue its growth. Tim’s son did nothing more than let his heart beat. Tim’s shoulders shook as he stumbled back up into the City of Lights, and he tried to pretend he wasn’t crying.
Good God, what had he done?
He’d disgraced the Robin legacy, disgraced Conner’s memory, disgraced his own name, maybe even all of Superherodom. He could hear the whispers now, the warnings that heroes would give to their sidekicks: “ Make sure you don’t turn out like Tim Drake: the Mad Scientist. ”
Tim flew through the sky of Paris, trying to make his way back to Gotham. He needed to find someone to replace him under the R. He already had some ideas: there was a kid who’d been practically orphaned by a Joker Gas attack, Duke Thomas. Tim had been keeping track of him, making sure he didn’t get into trouble. He’d make a good Robin. Batman needed a Robin, after all. And Tim sure as hell couldn’t be Robin anymore.
After
Tim was a terrible, selfish person. Bruce Wayne, Batman was dead, and when that happened, Tim found that he just couldn’t let go of Robin like he’d said he was going to. And his son was still in that pod beneath Paris. Good God, he was such a terrible person.
So Tim lost himself in his grief once more, because there was no way that Bruce could be dead. He had to be alive, that way Tim could give up the R peacefully, give Bruce his new Robin, (he was also looking into a girl named Carrie Kelly; she showed some promise) and fade quietly into the night to raise his son. That was what he needed to do. So, he needed to find Bruce.
And Bruce was alive. He was sure of it. A deep-seated feeling in his bones, an ache, a surety that he was just so sure of. Bruce Wayne was alive. He had to be.
Dick did not see it that way. “Tim, please, listen to me: you’ve been through a lot…” Dick sighed, slumped over with fatigue at the Batcomputer, wearing his own Batsuit. A jealous corner of Tim’s mind whispered faker…, but Tim ignored it. He sure as hell couldn’t be Batman in Bruce’s absence, and Jason had proven himself too unstable. Dick was the only one for the job.
“... and I just think--; Tim, are you even listening to me!?” Dick sighed with frustration, and Tim jumped. When had he spaced out?
“I’m sorry, Dick, I just got distracted, but I’m telling you, Bruce is alive! ” Tim insisted, hopping back onto his argument with a vengeance, “I know it! ”
“I wish he were alive too, Tim, but he’s not! ” Dick shouted back, “He died and he’s not coming back! ”
“ He didn’t die! ” Tim insisted, “He got--”
“--Rocketed into the timestream by Darkseid’s Omega Beams,” Dick finished flatly, his mocking tone voicing exactly what he thought about Tim's hypothesis, “The Omega Beams, that kill people. Tim, do you have any idea how crazy that sounds?”
Tim bit his tongue as his jaw clacked shut. Dick sighed, “Tim, you’ve lost a lot this past year. Conner, Bart, your dad, and now Bruce? It’s enough to break anyone! …I think you should start looking into a psychiatrist--”
“You think I’m crazy!? ” Tim shouted in disbelief. Because wow, that one hurt. Dick, his big brother, the one that always believed in him , thought he was crazy. The heart monitor beeping below Paris agreed with him, but that was a different issue; Tim was still a detective, and he knew when he was right about a case. And this was a case now, wasn’t it? The Case of the Missing Batman. And Tim had to find him.
“No, Tim, I didn’t mean-” Dick sighed, but then they were both interrupted by a mocking call from the stairs to the Cave.
“We should really tighten security in the Cave, Batman,” Damian sneered from behind him, “Keep out the riffraff.”
Tim turned to face him, and “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WEARING!?” he roared, because Damian was wearing the Robin suit. That wasn’t supposed to happen; Damian was too dark, too broken, too damaged to be Robin. All the reasons why Tim was giving up Robin! Robin needed to be light, happy, easygoing, able to pull Batman away from the darkness; all traits that Carrie and Duke possessed. Not Damian. Not Damian.
Tim should have been the one to find his replacement. He should have been the first Robin to hand down the R peacefully, because dammit , he needed to be sure he was leaving Bruce in capable hands. And those hands were not Damian’s. What Dick just did--!
“Tim, that’s uncalled for!” Dick shouted at him, and Damian smirked.
“Don’t worry, Drake, ” he sneered again, “I’m certain there's still a place for you in the Cave. Perhaps the Batgirl costume is still available-”
“ MY NAME IS TIM WAYNE! ” Tim roared, and damn, did it feel good to crack this kid across the face.
“ Tim! ” Dick shouted forcefully, pulling him off, and Tim snarled as he shoved the first Robin away.
Damian wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, trying to hide a grimace. “I let you get that shot in, Drake,” he said, and Tim growled.
“ Fuck you! ” Tim snapped, then he rounded on Dick, “ Fuck both of you! I’ll find Bruce if it’s the last thing I do! And if I have to do it alone, SO BE IT! ”
Tim ran to his bike, and burned rubber until he was out of the Cave.
He didn’t look back.
The Red Robin costume felt awkward on his shoulders. But it would serve his purposes for this trip.
First he needed to stop by the lab in Paris, to slow the baby’s growth even more. Maybe even stall it. He needed the time to look for Bruce, then he’d come back for the kid. Yeah, that was it. He’d do that.
Next he needed resources. Dick didn’t believe him, but maybe Superman and the Justice League would. Cassie might, and she could get him an in with the rest of the old Titans. He could even reach out to Jason and the Outlaws if he needed to.
Then, he needed to look for proof of Bruce’s survival, and evidence of his whereabouts. The portrait of “Mordecai Wayne” was a good start, but it wouldn’t convince everyone. Stupid unreliable colonial artists. He had some whispering leads, but nothing concrete yet. That was fine; he knew he just had to work the case and if he worked at it hard enough, the solution would appear. After all, he solved all the cold cases that even Batman couldn’t. This would be a piece of cake.
Tim’s bike roared toward the edge of Gotham, soon he’d be out of city limits. Then he heard a secondary roar, and turned as his stomach dropped. The Batmobile.
Tim cursed every god there was and slowed his bike, knowing he’d never be able to outrun the Batmobile. He sighed as the Batmobile roared to a stop, and sure enough, Dick got out. He refused to call him Batman. Dick wasn’t Batman. Not a real one, anyway.
“What do you want, Dick?” he called, still not getting fully off his bike, in case he needed to make a break for it.
“I want to talk, Tim,” Dick said back, and Tim could almost hear the emotion in his voice, “What are you wearing? Is that Jason’s old suit?”
“I’m not Robin anymore,” Tim said coldly, and fuck, that hurt to say.
Dick flinched. Good. Little bastard deserved it. “I know we all said some things we regret…” Dick started, and Tim narrowed his eyes.
“You called me crazy,” Tim returned, “You gave Robin away to Damian. Damian can’t be Robin, Dick!”
“He needs the R!” Dick said back, just a few decibels below a shout, “He needs it so that he doesn’t grow up to be a crazy psycho assassin murderer! I thought you’d be able to see that, Tim!”
“Yeah, Damian had a rough childhood, and that sucks, ” Tim acquiesced, “That sucks that he had to go through that, Dick. And I’m glad you’re helping him. But Robin!? You had no right! ”
“I had every right!” Dick shouted back, “I’m Batman! ”
“ NO THE HELL YOU’RE NOT! ” Tim shot back, and Dick looked shocked, “ Bruce is Batman. Because Bruce isn’t dead. And I refuse to put that fucking demon by his side as Robin! ”
Dick sighed, “And we’re back to this again…”
“Why won’t you just believe me!? ” Tim cried, finally stepping off his bike, “Dick, we’ve been through so much together! So much! I thought you trusted me! ”
“I do trust you, Tim!” Dick cried, “But you have to admit, you’re raising all the red flags! You just lost your closest friends and family, you disappeared to Europe for months, then you came back and lost Bruce! Now I just learned from Steph that you blew up your own base, put on Jason’s old suit, and now you’re-- what? Going to find Bruce yourself?”
“ Yes! ” Tim snapped.
“With what!? ” Dick shouted back, “With who!? ”
“The Justice League!” Tim growled, “The Titans! Maybe even the Outlaws! Anyone who’ll just fucking believe me! ”
“That’s not gonna happen, Tim,” said a new voice, and Tim whirled around to see Superman hovering in the sky above them.
Soon, a dozen or more heroes were all descending from the sky, or coming out of the trees. Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, Wonder Woman, even Wally West, dressed in his Flash uniform. Tim saw Steph, too, and narrowed his eyes as he saw Cassie hovering awkwardly by her mentor.
“... What is this?” Tim asked lowly, turning back to Dick as the entire Justice League formed a circle around them.
“This is an intervention, Tim,” Diana said, concern and pity lacing her voice, “You’re not well.”
Tim’s eyes bugged wide. “ All of you think I’m crazy!? ” he asked, aghast, and the Leaguers shuffled their feet in shame. “You-- I-- I don’t even-- Superman… ” Tim said the last name with a wounded, begging tone, and Clark winced. The pure betrayal in Tim’s young voice hurt to hear, and not for the first time, the League was reminded that everyone idolized Superman. Tim was no exception.
“Tim, I want to believe more than anyone that Bruce is still alive,” Clark sighed, trying to appeal to Tim’s reason, “But you weren’t there. You didn’t see what we saw. He’s gone, Tim. He’s not coming back. You need to accept that.”
“NO!” Tim roared, “NO! Bruce can’t be dead! He’s not allowed to be! I need to--” Tim’s voice cracked with emotion as he thought about all his responsibilities, the things he needed to do. The things he only felt safe doing if Bruce was around to catch him if he fell. He wouldn’t bring his child into a world without Batman.
Manhunter frowned. “What do you mean, Tim?” he asked, and Tim’s eyes widened.
“What are you doing!?” he demanded, but the Martian’s red eyes merely glowed, as they did when he used his telepathy. Tim felt something oh so horribly wrong and foreign enter his mind, and he groaned as he clutched his head. Unbidden thoughts of Paris entered his mind, and he tried desperately to stamp them down.
“What experiment?” J’onn demanded, and the rest of the League stood there, shocked, “Timothy, what is in that laboratory? ”
“NOTHING!” Tim shouted, “ Get out of my head, Manhunter! ”
In a fit of rage, Tim threw down an incendiary capsule, made for combatting White Martians, and J’onn cried out as the fire struck him, climbing up his skin and his clothes. “ J’onn! ” Clark said urgently, quickly whisking the Martian away to put out the fire with the speed of the wind.
“Tim!” Dick cried urgently, surging forward, and Tim threw a Batarang at him, which didn’t do much but shock him into stopping. “Tim…” Dick said in a wounded whisper, as if realizing that his brother was willing to attack him.
“Enough of this!” Lantern said harshly, his ring glowing green with vindictive rage, “Tim, you’ve gone insane. You can’t be trusted. Batman called us in to either talk you down, which has failed, or help haul you to Arkham.”
“ Arkham? ” Tim whispered, staring at Dick, “ ARKHAM!? You were going to throw me into ARKHAM?!? ”
“Tim, please, it’s not as bad as it-!” Dick tried to protest, but Tim was too far gone.
“THAT’S IT!” he snapped, and he took one of the capsules of his bandolier, popping it open and slamming his hand down on the button hidden there, “This! This is a remote detonator with a deadman switch, it’ll destroy all of my bases at once. Some of those bases are belowground, or in populated areas; the explosions will wreck the city. Probably take lives. Let me leave, or I blow half of Gotham to hell!”
The Justice League stared at him. Cassie covered her mouth in horror. “Tim, you wouldn’t do that,” Dick said, his mouth in a grim line.
Tim narrowed his eyes. A few dozen Gothamites vs a safe world for his kid? He hated it, but that wasn’t a hard choice. “I don’t know what I wouldn’t do anymore,” Tim growled, and he meant it.
The Justice League waited. Tim kept his finger on the button. “You’re bluffing!” Cassie cried, desperation lacing her voice, and Tim narrowed his eyes at the girl he once thought he could call a friend.
“I’m not Robin anymore,” Tim reiterated, “I’m not a hero anymore either. I haven’t been for a long time. If you knew what I’ve done… ” Tim’s voice cracked again, and the League bristled. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t tell them. He couldn't look Dick Grayson in the eye and tell him how he had disgraced the Robin legacy.
“Tim…” Dick said, softly, carefully, slowly, “What did you do? What lab was Manhunter talking about?”
Tim’s hand shook. To the League’s shock, they saw tears begin to leak out from beneath his cowl. “I can’t tell you that,” Tim said again, his voice just barely above a whisper, “But just know I need to make the world a safe place. And that won’t happen until Bruce is back beneath the cowl. I can’t-- I won’t--" I won't bring my child into a world without Batman-- "There are more lives on the line than just mine, Dick. Please, just let me go. ”
The Justice League waited once more, apprehension filling the forest they were standing in. “It’s your call, Batman,” Wally said seriously.
Dick stood there, silent and still. On one hand, Tim looked so sincere, so much in pain, that it wounded Dick’s soul to not give him what he so desperately wanted. But on the other, Tim was obviously unwell; if he left, he’d only be a danger to himself and others.
Slowly, Tim watched as Dick Grayson melted away, and the ( fake ) Bat took his place. “Justice League,” Batman said, his voice heavy with grief, “Take Red Robin down.”
Before he could react, Tim gasped as he was hit in the back with one of Lantern’s constructs, and as he spasmed in pain, his finger left the button. Even as the League surged forward, in the city below, dozens of explosions rocked Gotham. All of Tim’s safehouses, all of his perches and hideouts, they all erupted into flames.
The Justice League stopped to watch in horror. “Oh my God…” Steph gasped, “You… you weren’t bluffing…”
Tim staggered to his feet, instinctively running to his bike. All those people... his mind whispered, and Tim gritted his teeth as he thought of the people he had just doomed with his rash decisions. But he couldn't afford to slow down now; he could feel bad about it later. “Your choice, Justice League!” he shouted behind him, and the bike’s engine started with a roar, “Me, or Gotham!” With that, Tim pushed his bike to the absolute limit and hightailed it out of city limits; if he was going to escape the Justice League, he needed the element of surprise.
“Leave him, we need to help the civilians!” Diana cried, flying at top speed toward the city, while Dick looked torn.
“Flash!” he called, but Wally looked between him and the rapidly retreating form of Tim.
“There’s no time, Dick!” Wally shouted back, and he, too, ran to help the city.
Lantern floated down to look at Dick. “I can hunt him down,” he said, “But I can also get you into Gotham quicker. I can’t do both. What’ll it be, Bats?”
Dick swore as Tim continued driving. “Let Tim go,” Batman growled, “Bring me to Gotham.”
And the Justice League saved dozens of lives that day. And Tim Drake made it out into the New Jersey countryside. The news was told only part of the truth: a hero had gone insane, started calling himself Red Robin, and blew up half of Gotham to escape the League. But Tim didn’t even think that was the most jarring part: When he stopped at a rest stop long enough to see the headlines, he staggered for a bit as his heart stopped.
RED ROBIN: FUGITIVE OF THE JUSTICE LEAGUE
Tim never made it back to Paris. With the League on his tail, he couldn’t risk leading them back to his son. However, as he struggled across the planet, he despaired as he realized that he was losing years of his son’s life.
Years. How terrifying was that?
Tim was losing precious time with his son. By the time he saved Bruce, he might already be a young toddler. If he spent more than a year searching for Bruce, he might be a preteen. Two years, he’d be a teenager.
Tim would not be the teen father of a teenager. That would be too weird. And too hard to hide.
Still, Tim was running on empty; he’d been all around the globe. The Midwest, Russia, Mexico, Spain, everywhere where even whispers of Bruce had been. He didn’t have the resources to go anywhere else. He was so tired, not able to rest or relax because the Justice League was continuously hunting him. If he was in the same city for more than a week or two, inevitably a Leaguer would show up to bring him in. He’d already had too much of a near miss with Green Arrow in Moscow; he needed to be more careful.
Finally, Tim found himself in Istanbul. There was one clue left, a cave in Iraq, and this was as close as an American could get without drawing attention. And with the Justice League hunting him, he couldn’t afford attention. Tim needed to stay hidden. So, when an RPG blew up his hotel room, he was less than happy.
Tim stood on the rooftop, the unconscious bodies of Z, Owens, and Pru behind him. The Red Robin suit seemed to weigh down on his shoulders more than it usually did. “What do you want, Ra’s?” he growled into the communicator he had stolen off of Z.
“I wish to speak to you, Timothy,” Ra’s purred over the line, and Tim’s brain set off all kinds of warning bells.
“We’re already speaking,” Tim growled in response, “Say whatever it is you want to say. I haven’t got all night.”
“Yes, I can imagine your search for the Detective has left you quite exhausted,” Ra’s agreed, and Tim blanched.
“How did you…?” he stuttered, and Ra’s had the gall to laugh at him.
“Timothy, please,” he sighed, “I do have resources. And unfortunately for you, your pursuers are not that far behind you. Even now, the Detective’s first protege flies to Istanbul with my grandson to intercept you. Superman may even arrive sooner. If you wish to continue your search, you will have to escape the city quickly. Preferably to a safe haven, where even the mighty Justice League cannot find you.”
Tim snorted. “Are you offering, Ra’s?” he said snidely.
“As a matter of fact, Timothy,” Ra’s said with what Tim could only assume was a smirk, “I am. You think that the Detective is still alive; I believe you.”
Tim stopped in his tracks. His heart stopped, his breath caught. He didn’t realize just how much he had needed to hear those words. “You…” Tim stuttered, disbelief and shock painfully evident in his soft voice, “You believe me.”
“Yes, Timothy,” Ra’s assured him, “I believe you. And I want to help.”
Tim almost fell to his knees. “You believe me,” he whispered. No one believed me. But he does. Someone finally believes me!
Ra’s seemed to wait for him. Tim realized he was still talking to the head of an ancient criminal organization, and tried to collect himself. “I-- I’m listening,” he managed to say, hoping to make his voice sound less shaky than he felt.
“Excellent,” Ra’s said, “I’ll see you soon, Timothy. Meet me in Ankara, my assassins will guide you.”
Tim turned back, and sure enough, Z, Owens, and Pru were beginning to wake up. “See you soon, Ra’s,” Tim said back, trying and failing to keep emotion out of his voice, and he threw the comm off the side of the building.