Chapter Text
Tim had finally done it.
He stared in amazement at the book in his hand, not quite believing it was real.
A quick double check, just to make sure, and yep, he was pretty sure he wasn't hallucinating.
The simple pieces of bound paper looked innocently back at him, yet they contained information that could fix everything.
Even after all the long grueling months, the countless struggles he had endured, Tim had never given up.
Those long days spent pooling over evidence that he had risked his life over and over to gain, he had actually managed to do it.
It had been over a year since he had been back in Gotham.
Over a year since he had run, run far away, and began his long journey.
Fourteen months since that fateful day.
60 weeks since they found out Bruce was dead.
425 days since Tim refused to believe that was the truth, and began to search.
He couldn't remember what his brothers looked like, flashes of twinkling sea blue eyes and black, black hair, the color of obsidian straying through his mind like a breeze.
Did Jason's mouth quirk up when he smiled, or did he have dimples?
He had forgotten what it felt like to be truly happy.
Joy was construct, and he hadn't been a part of it since than.
It had been far too long since he had last felt safe, that's for sure.
And, to be frank, his mission was not doing a good job on his anxiety.
Oh, and he's like 99% sure he has depression, because seriously, currently his mental health is lower than Jason's grave, and he doesn't think he'll be able to climb out of the coffin he's buried himself in.
Tim had suffered so much, too much, but determination was a hell of a motivation, and he had never given up.
He lost friends, helpless to watch as the light drained from their eyes, and no matter how much he cried, they would never come back.
Heck, he had almost died several times, living in constant peril, his paranoia only growing every day.
God, he was acting more and more like Bruce, and the comparison hurt.
But it was worth it.
In the end, it didn't matter about how much he had hurt, after all, he had achieved his goal.
He had finally found a way to bring back Bruce from where he was lost in the time stream.
Tim let out a ragged laugh, a kind of mix between disbelief and a sob.
Nobody had believed him.
They had only shook their heads in sadness, gazing at him with pity, not believing the desperate rambles of a grieving child.
The words spilling out of his mouth were ignored, faces turning away when he latched onto them, screaming that they were wrong, they were all wrong, and why didn't anyone see it?
Superman had hugged him, silently sobbing, not listening when he begged Bruce’s best friend to understand, Bruce was alive!
Dick had sent him a look so full of grief, a heartbroken expression on his face, when Tim had desperately told him that Bruce was alive, practically begging the older man to see the truth.
But the first robin had only shook his head sadly, tears in his eyes, gently telling him how Tim was in denial, even though he provided fact after fact, explaining everything clearly, each one showing even more proof.
Even Jason only glared at him, yelling how Bruce was gone, and that nothing would ever bring him back, grief clear in pinched expression, denying each piece of evidence he brought up, shooting them down quicker than a bullet,
Dick hadn't believed him, none of them had, no matter how much he had begged them to see reason, explanation after explanation falling upon empty ears, Tim bitterly remembered, before shaking the memories away.
But they would realize their mistake.
With the evidence he would clearly lay out, there was enough that they were sure to understand that he was right all along!
They had to, otherwise-
There's no changing the past, no matter how hard he wished for there to be a way.
He had to focus on the present, and the future, because if he looked back too long, he feared he wouldn't be able to climb out of the deepest parts of his mind, drowning in memories.
They didn't trust him.
No matter how many times he had solved cases that were deemed nigh impossible, all those times he had proven himself over and over, no one had believed him.
They might have given up on Bruce, but he refused to think that way.
Tim would search to the ends of the earth for a way to bring his mentor back, and would die a million times if it meant Bruce survive.
If they didn’t trust him, he would make them.
He had saved the man before, bloody punches and ruthless hits, a grieving man who had just lost his son, who could say he wouldn’t do it again?
So he expanded his search, traveling to all the corners of the earth, just like his parents had done before him.
And soon hours became days, which turned into weeks, as he tore through dig sights one after another, always looking for a sign in each buried architecture, each cracked concrete, a reason to continue his search, for evidence, anything really, that showed that Bruce was alive.
Tim had found bits and pieces, whether it be little markings on a wall, or paintings with a man who looked strikingly familiar, but not quite enough to prove his case.
So he searched harder, growing skinnier and more desperate, his resolve cracking, never giving up, staying out longer and longer, minutes stretching for what seemed like eternities, as he tore through ancient building after ancient building.
But no matter what, however long he looked, he never had enough.
And that was when things had taken a turn for the worst.
It had started out as an ordinary dig; he had heard something about bat markings in Paris, at least, and was exploring a half eroded town, and was normal, at least until the assassins showed up.
Three people dressed in black, stealthily creeping towards Tim, experience clear in the way they walked.
They moved like water, and the small ripples were the only thing that signaled they were there.
Cold, silent killers, and he was on their list.
But it didn't matter how good they were, for Tim was better.
The League of Assassins had found him, but he wasn’t going down without a fight, as he tensed, hearing the near silent footsteps grow closer.
He had expected this, after all, Ra’s al Ghul was a powerful man, with valuable resources, and would obviously notice his quiet figure, in places it shouldn't belong.
It was all part of his plan.
The man was experienced, and Tim needed his knowledge, and would slowly wrap the man around his finger, taking what he needed, then he would run, using the man as a pawn.
He quickly took down the assassins, and as he stood there, slightly out of breath, in the midst of their groaning bodies, he requested one thing.
“Take me to Ra’s al Ghul."
So with Pru and her team, Z and Owens, they traveled to meet the head of the League, where he met with the man running the whole thing.
They created a pact, Tim and the immortal man shaking on it, both with a glint in their eyes, each of them having their different motivations.
And so, for the next couple months, he and Pru’s squad would travel around the world, collecting evidence to add to his ever growing pile, each data they found got him one step closer to his goal of finding and rescuing Bruce from the time stream.
It was the most amount of joy he'd felt since Bruce had disappeared.
Then the Council of Spiders attacked.
And just like that, Tim lost his spleen, two of his friends, and almost died, leaving him and Pru being the only survivors.
Sure, his mental health slowly declined, and each time he came up empty, another false piece of hope slowly breaking off another part of his heart, but he refused to give up, the losses just fueling his search, and he continued to look for evidence with new found gusto.
While this was going on, he also had a different goal that he was planning on completing once he could rescue Bruce,
Tim would take down the League of Assassins, including Ra’s al Ghul, and run away with Pru, leaving that life behind.
Finally, finally, he had gotten enough proof to save his mentor, and with a couple of codes he had sent, destroying their network, and some carefully planned explosions, he watched from afar as the League’s base burned to the ground, ignoring the faint screams that he could hear from inside, Pru silently standing next to him.
Of course his plan would go perfectly, he had designed it himself after all, and had made sure it was completely foolproof.
“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Pru said dryly, as she watched as the smoke rose into the air in waves.
Tim snorted, the sudden humor lighting the mood almost as much as the glow from the flames.
They were quiet as they watched the destruction of the base, not exactly knowing what to say to the other.
“I'll miss you."
The confession surprised Pru almost as much as it did Tim himself, not expecting something quite as emotional spill from his lips.
The assassin raised an eyebrow at him, “Wow, Timmy. I didn't expect you to actually be emotional," she said in a teasing tone, but quickly sobered up. “You know we'll see each other again, right? I'm not planning on leaving you alone, you big softie."
She playfully punched his shoulder, but he could see the telltale sign of tears in her eyes, their glassy sheen reflecting the orange light from the almost completely destroyed buildings.
“Yeah," Tim was quiet.
“You know how to find me," Pru sighed, shooting one last look at the charred remains of the League of Assassins base, before hiking her backpack higher on her shoulder, and began to walk away.
He hesitated, and quelled the urge to shout out, or just get her attention as her figure grew smaller and smaller.
They had been through so much together, it almost seemed almost ludicrous to be parting now.
Tim shook himself, now wasn't the time to dwell in the past.
He sighed, and began one last journey, making his way to the zeta tube he knew was stationed nearby, evidence stored neatly on a USB file, files in his other hand, as he could finally help rescue Bruce.
It didn’t take long for him to arrive, and he quickly typed the code specifically created for him, glad he made sure to memorize it when he had originally gotten it, holding his breath as he waited for it to accept the password.
With a short beep, it let him in, and the pressure on his chest slightly lifted, as Tim stepped inside the metal tube-like travelling machine, and inputted his destination.
White light shone around him, and he closed his eyes, the brightness almost enough to blind him, and within a blink of a second, feeling a flutter of excitement in his chest.
After all those long months of barely spending time with multiple people, usually working in silence, in dim lighting, all his senses were immediately assaulted as bright light and the sound of chatter quickly filled his ears.
He took a deep breath, and stepped out of the tube, ready to face the music, book in hand.
The second he did so, making his presence clear, it seemed like the entire Watchtower fell silent, as he felt several pairs of eyes on him, making his skin itch.
Tim quickly scanned the room, and held back a wince as he noticed Nightwing among the rest of the Justice League, as he avoided his gaze, feeling the concerned stare seem to burn into his soul.
“T-Tim?” Dick said in a choked voice, stepping forward, hesitatingly, like he couldn't believe Tim was there.
He looked like a mess, and he knew it.
Tim was wearing a ratty sweatshirt that probably had seen better days, the edges burned and smudged with soot, covering the black League’s jumpsuit that he had been required to wear, and there were streaks of dried blood, most likely his own, staining the once blue sweater.
He hadn't washed in what felt like weeks, but was probably only about five days, and his hair looked like a rat's nest, hopelessly twisted with knots, and his eyebags had gotten so big, they now took up most of his face.
Tim looked like he hadn't had a proper amount of sleep in months, which was fairly accurate, considering the fact that he had spent most of his time hunting for clues.
Dick held back a sob, covering his mouth with one hand, the rest of the people on the base just watching silently, equally shocked, and rushed forwards, seemingly going to hug Tim.
But months, heck, even years of training caused him to flinch back at the attempt of a kind of comfort, which only caused Dick to look even more heartbroken, as Tim shot a half heated glare at Nightwing.
For fucks sake, he was tired, the exhaustion reaching all the down to his bones, and just wanted Bruce back.
Dick stood a couple of feet away from him, the previously held back tears now flowing freely down his face, and murmured in a saddened tone, “Oh, Timmy. What happened to you? You were gone for months, I was so worried! We all were. After Bruce- I couldn't stand the thought of-”
The man's voice was cut off with another sob, and Tim ignored the pang of guilt that ran through him, shoving it down in his brain, to hopefully never have to think about again.
He hadn't meant to make them worry, they weren't supposed to care about him.
Besides, it’s their fault for driving him away. If only they had listened, not of this would have had to happen, and-
Tim pushed away the irritated voice in the back of his mind, instead favoring to spit out, venom lacing his tone, “Well, maybe if you had believed me, none of this would've had to happen.”
Dick reared back as if struck, hurt flashing over his eyes, but Tim only glared at him, the full force of his anger that had slowly been growing over the months that he had been away pouring into the look, finally having a chance to spill out.
“Besides, you can apologize later. I have proof that Bruce is alive, and I know how to get him back."
And with that simple sentence, the previous hurt on the older man's face vanished, instead softening into something more akin to pity.
Dick gently said, as if talking to a rabid animal, concern practically leaking from all his pores; “Tim… Bruce is dead. We all wish he wasn't, but we can't change the past. I'm so sorry, but you need to accept that Bruce is gone, and nothing will ever change that.”
It seemed like the world stopped, a moment frozen in time.
…what?
Even with evidence, they still didn't believe him?
Something in his chest seemed to crack, and he held back tears, practically yelling out, “Bruce is alive! I have proof! Please, Dick, listen to me. We can save him, and it'll all return to normal! Just, please,” he all but begged, pleading for them to see reason.
They hadn't before, but he hadn't had evidence back then, so surely they had to now!
The rest of the League gazed at him with pity, and he hated it, but Dick looked at him the worst.
His older brother looked absolutely wrecked, his expression so filled with grief and sadness, that you would think that Bruce had just died.
Tim felt something in his chest shatter, and was engulfed with a wave of numbness.
“... none of you believe me, don't you?" Tim couldn't hold back the tears, wetness sliding down his cheeks, and he felt hollow inside, all hope gone.
They refused to meet his gaze, but from their faces, he knew what they couldn't say.
It was all for nothing.
He had suffered so much, the only thing that kept him going was the fact that the people who hadn't trusted him would see the truth, and apologize for not understanding earlier, as thousands of different reactions had spun in his mind, the only comfort he had had when he was a lone, after a long day of digging.
Tim felt faint, and his throat felt choked, but he managed to mutter out, a mix of utter disbelief and anger in his voice, “Wow. I- I don't even know what to say. You still don't trust me. I see now, it's obvious.”
Dick stepped closer, and the only reason Tim let him was the expression of clear desperation that he wore.
“Timmy- please, come back. We can help you, but you need to let us. I'm so sorry for before-” but Tim stopped him with a shaky hand.
He took a deep breath, before briskly snapping out, voice sharper than a knife, “I'll be going now. Goodbye, Richard.”
He turned, feeling almost on fire with the sheer amount of anger running through his veins like lava, and trembled with its force, as he headed towards the zeta tube, refusing to look back at the no doubt heartbroken look on his brother's Dicks face as he walked away.
He had trusted them, poured his faith into collecting this book, and they broke it, just like that.
Dick didn't deserve to be called family.
Blood roared in his ears as he tapped the code for his destination in an anger filled blur, and shot one last look at the gaping audience he had left behind, glaring at them with such coldness in his eyes, that it would even make Janet proud.
Then just like that, he was gone in a flash of brilliant white light, just him alone, like he had always been.
He was wrong to think that would ever change, the foolish hope of a child latching onto the belief that someone out there would listen to him.
In less than a second, he had reached his destination.
He stepped out of the zeta tube, breathing in the beautifully musty air of Gotham, savoring in the familiar feeling of home that it seemed to bring.
It reminded him of a time before, when Bruce was still alive, and Jason was Robin, those joyful times where he'd stalk them in the dead of night, the simple shutter of his camera interlocking those moments in time.
The sound of gunshots and screaming distantly wafted through his ears, but he ignored it, closing his eyes, trying to stay in the illusion he had captured himself in.
But peace doesn't last forever, and he let out a shuddering breath, before walking a familiar path, one he had taken many times before.
The walk to Drake Manor was as quiet as a walk in Gotham could be, and he didn't even get mugged once, which was a good thing.
Tim didn't think he'd be able to hold in his punches after today, and wasn't in the mood to be charged for murder.
Besides, he had a job to do.
He was filled with renewed determination, as he let his feet follow the street on instinct, while his mind was far away.
If they didn't want to rescue Bruce, he'd have to do it on his own.
Tim had done enough research to know how to cast the spell, and had prepared all the materials needed beforehand, wanting to save his mentor as fast as possible.
Sure, he wasn't experienced in magic, but the benefits outweighed the risks.
It was the perfect plan.
Soon, Drake Manor came into sight, towering over him with its powerful presence, and he had to hold back a shiver at the chill that rushed over him.
It was easy to sneak past the gate, nobody had lived there since before Bru- since Jack had died, and he had done this hundreds of times before, the motion as simple as a flick of his hand.
The building was imposing, the huge wooden doors looming above Tim as he paused in front of them, before hesitantly reaching for the door knob.
Obviously, it didn't open, why should it?
But he still squashed down the pang of sadness that ran through him at the locked doors.
He hadn't lived there for so long, yet somehow, it was the closest thing to home that he had at the moment.
Tim let out a sigh, but since that wasn't the only way to enter the manor, it was simple to quietly scale the walls, slipping into the window he knew whose lock was broken.
Drake Manor was… Exactly the same as he had last remembered it.
The same dusty furniture and floors, the kind of home that even though you lived in it, it never truly felt like someone belonged, like a ghost in a building, not truly being able to touch it.
The wood creaked beneath him as he slowly walked towards his old room, weariness dragging his feet down harder, feeling ready to collapse at any moment.
All of a sudden, he heard something behind him, the faintest sound of a breath.
Tim froze, and whipped his head around, only to be met with….
Nothing.
There was no one behind him, no secret stalker, just Tim, alone, like always.
Just his paranoia, and the thudding of his heartbeat thumping in his ears, seemingly magnified by his anxiety.
He let out a rush of air, before turning back towards his destination, walking faster towards the bedroom.
It didn't take too long to reach it, and he dashed inside, quietly shutting the door behind him, making sure to lock it.
It was time.
He had to get this right or else-
No use dwelling on the possibilities, he had to focus on the right now.
Tim gently opened his back pack, and pulled out the materials needed, placing them on the floor.
He grabbed the white chalk, made from powdered human bone, and slowly drew a circle, making it as accurate as possible.
The silence seemed suffocating, but he ignored it, placing down scattered dead roses around the drawing, along with a stand of hair he had stolen from Bruce’s old batsuit.
Now for the final object, Tim hesitated for a second, before sliding his father’s antique watch into the middle.
The watch was made of gold, and was the last thing that Jack had given to him, but he had to part with it, for the sake of getting Bruce back.
Once everything was laid out, it was finally time to begin the spell.
Tim felt a rush of giddiness, having never been closer to actually achieving his goal before now.
He pulled out the ancient book, and flipped to the bookmarked page, which contained the directions to complete the summoning, and took a deep breath.
It was now or never.
“Tempus iter res ego noli quid cognosce ad loco ecce,” Tim chanted out, feeling a strange sensation in his throat as he spoke the words on the page.
The circle seemed to start to glow with an otherworldly light, and wind started to swirl around the portal, but Tim ignored it, never straying from the book in his hands.
He couldn’t let some pretty light show distract him.
He continued to chant the spell, and as his voice grew louder with each verse, the semi-clumsy lines turning smoother the longer he spoke, and a strange voice seemed to overlap his own, creating an eerie tone.
The glow grew brighter, and Tim had to squint his eyes, lest he be blinded, and the wind became stronger, objects around the room getting sucked towards it.
After what felt like an eternity, he reached the end of the page, and his voice died down, as he took a moment to gaze in awe at the glowing portal on his floor.
The magical circle pulsed with light, with , and Tim had to dig his heels in to stop himself from being dragged in too.
Any second now, Bruce would pop out, and he waited with anticipation.
Aaaaany second now.
About a minute passed, and nothing came out of the portal, which continued to sit there innocently.
What the fuck.
Slight panic began to rise in him, where had he gone wrong?
Had he done the spell wrong?
He was sure he had perfected it, but the lack of Bruce would say otherwise.
He desperately looked back at the book, opening his mouth to redo the spell, but with another gust of air, the last key to saving his mentor was sucked into the swirling portal, and he let out a cry, reaching towards it, but in a flash it was gone.
Fuck.
His day had gone from bad to worse, and he didn’t know how he’d get out of this mess.
He squashed down the panic flowing throughout him like a raging river, he had to focus on fixing this.
But before he could even move, the door behind him swung open with a bang, making him jump, his head whipping around fast enough that he heard a crack, as he stared at the person standing in his doorway.
Tim could do nothing but gape, speechless, at the man in front of him.
Well, man was an exaggeration, because he looked more like a teenager, around Tim’s age.
Scratch that.
The teen looked almost exactly like him.
The weird version of him was almost identical, except for the fact that their hair was pure white, the color of snow on an arctic day, and was wearing a kind of suit.
He was holding a bulky camera, and Tim took a moment to admire it, before Not-Him threw it at him with a, “Catch, me!"
The object sailed through the air, landing in his arms, and Tim let out a surprised yelp, stumbling back out of shock.
Which was a mistake that would ruin everything.
Turns out, he had gotten too close to the portal, and just like the rest of the items had, and with a bright flash, he got sucked in too, desperately hugging the camera to his chest.
The last thing he saw was Not-Him waving at him, with a smirk clear on his face.
Then he was engulfed in white light.
It was blinding, and he squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to stop the brightness, but it still felt like whiteness was assaulting his eyes.
Just like that, it was gone as fast as it came, and Tim hesitantly opened his eyes, blinking away the white spots, and his vision cleared, his jaw dropped.
The air was filled with a kind of chirping, and he was standing on a grassy plain, fields rolling around him as far as he could see, as the sun gently wafted around him, providing his a kind of comforting warmth.
That wasn't the shocking part, no, what had surprised him was the fact that there was a tyrannosaurus rex in front of him, looking at him like Tim was his next meal.
He could only stand still, eyes practically bugging out, the camera still in his hands.
The only thing he could say was, “What the fu-”
And then he promptly got bitten in half by the dinosaur.