Chapter Text
Tim opened the bedroom door and was immediately confronted with a former child assassin staring at him with a furrowed brow and… holding a cat.
Bypassing thought entirely, his first reaction was to take a defensive position and brace himself for an incoming threat. Milliseconds later, his conscious mind caught up with his body and he asked himself if he was really preparing for some sort of lethal feline cannonball attack, because that was really stupid.
He tried to relax his posture but the combination of Damian’s close proximity and his throat being locked up tight kept Tim on edge. There was nothing that could be turned into a weapon near at hand and there was no way he could close the door in time if the demon brat decided to drop the cat and attack.
Another millisecond passed before he clocked the second figure in the hallway, which to his shock turned out to be a version of Cass. She was almost unrecognizable with long curling hair that had streaks of blue running through it and artfully painted nails. Unlike his sister, who cut her own hair and distrusted the artificiality of make up, this Cassandra was fully made up and decked out in stylish clothes that gave the impression that she had just walked away from her role as the queen bee in a teen movie.
His adrenaline levels began to drop as no one moved and Damian continued do nothing but hold the cat. This “world’s” Damian was also vastly difference in appearance. Instead of furious green eyes glaring at him from a face topped off with a number two buzz cut, the kid in front of him had enough hair to comb back and his expression was a mix of concern and what seemed to be an attempt to give a welcoming smile. He was dressed in jeans and a graphic tee which was another tick in the “this is fucking bizarre” box because the Damian he was familiar with had fought tooth and nail to keep his wardrobe limited to what he had brought with him from the L.O.A.
Ignoring how Tim was standing tense as a bow string half in and half out of the doorway, Alt-Cass stepped forward and gave a friendly wave before speaking.
“Hi! I’m Cassandra Wayne, but you can also call me Cass. Alfred said that you knew my alternate in your universe?”
Tim set his inner threat level back to green, more comfortable now that Cas had spoken. Aside from confirming that she couldn’t read him, he refused to dwell on the implications of her fluent speech and how this possibly real version of Cass had somehow felt safe enough to give up a portion of her skills. Although… It must have been hard for her to call up her conditioning and regress enough to read him this morning.
Tim cut off that train of thought off before it could distract him any further and returned his attention to the current situation. He signed “Yes” and then “Sorry, I can’t speak right now. Old injury. Causing problems. It will get better. I am Tim Drake.”
To his relief, ASL transcended dimensions and his message was understood. However it’s contents caused the pair of alternates to exchange some type of significant look before this world’s Damian cleared his throat and introduced himself.
“I am Damian Wayne and I am honored to meet you.”
Tim’s brows betrayed his surprise at Damian’s words and the apparent sincerity. Where was the suspicion and hostility? Even if Damian hadn’t been prompted by Talia to hate his guts, surely he would be angry at an interloper being taken in by his family with no warning. And wasn’t the kid missing half his name? Unable to leave it alone, Tim decided that this counted as a chance to test the boundaries. He signed his question.
“Not Damian al-Ghul Wayne?”
To most people, Damian might have looked stoic when he understood the question but to Tim’s eyes Damian’s reaction was shockingly easy to read. Grief, anger and resignation blazed out like beacon and Tim realized that the kid wasn’t bothering to put up any type of front to conceal his emotions.
“No, I have left that name behind. I will not bear the name of the man my mother died fighting.”
The blunt words had the same impact as a kick in the head. In one fell swoop Damien had taken Ra’s out of the running as the mastermind behind this potentially artificial world. There was no way in any dimension that the Demon’s Head would allow his grandson to renounce the family name, mot even in a simulated reality, not even for the chance at brainwashing Tim.
The kid’s real distress prompted the part of Tim that hated seeing anyone in pain to override his survival instincts. He left his relatively secure position to take a step closer as he signed.
“I am sorry. The Damian I know is different. I did not mean to bring up painful memories.”
Damian nodded and gestured to the cozy little nest of pillows, books, and electronic devices that had been set up in the hallway.
“I accept your apology. Come, sit with us. We have a full thermos of Shai bil Na'na. Maybe it will help your throat.”
Tim returned the nod and stepped around several items until he was in the back corner where he had a clear sight line down the hallway. Not reacting to his choice, Cass and Damian sank down to the cushions as soon as he did and somehow the kid was able transfer the sleeping cat to Cass without disturbing it’s rest.
Once his hands were free, Damian turned to collect clear glass cups and what must be the drink he had offered from a nearby rolling cart. As Damian tried to gather up everything in one go, Cass smiled in a confiding way and leaned closer to speak softly to Tim.
“Alfred doesn’t usually let us have this much caffeine and sugar in the afternoon, but Damian wanted to do this right so he brewed the tea himself and snuck it up here.”
Not understanding in the slightest, Tim gave a nod and a acknowledging smile. Cass’ happy expression morphed into a slight frown as she somehow picked up on his confusion despite not having access to her people reading skills. Before she could say more Damian was facing them and quickly setting out three tea cups. With great ceremony he held the container high as he did a long pour into the cups without spilling a drop. Once filled, he offered a cup to Tim while Cass chose one for herself. Picking up the remaining cup, Damian raised it to signal a toast. Bemusedly Tim clicked his cup against the two others as Damian spoke.
“Be welcomed to Wayne manor, Timothy. Ahlan wa sahlan.”
Taken off guard, those words triggered a wave of suffocating heat to sweep down his body while pain pierced his chest. Never in his four years as Robin had he ever been welcomed anywhere near the Waynes. Tim knew his role well. He was the weird, know-it-all neighbor kid who could not just shut up or stay away. Was he really in a coma and stuck in some sort of maudlin fantasy world? Because if so, he was noping the fuck out as soon as possible.
Clenching the last vestiges of his composure in a white knuckled grip, Tim signed “Thank you” and took a small sip, pausing for a moment before fully drinking from the cup. He recognized the flavor immediately. It was a variation of the sweet mint tea that most assassins drank by the gallon whenever they were not under the watchful eye of the Demon’s Head. Ra’s had long ago declared the drink a decadent indulgent that was forbidden to his followers, but even his most loyal disciples conveniently interpreted the stricture to only apply when they were at an L.O.A. base.
One night, when they were on a stake out and it was just him and Zee sharing a roof, Tim had asked about the tea. Zee had responded with a rambling treatise that expounded on things like culture, history and personal identity and how the tea was woven into all of it in a vital way that was almost impossible to fully renounce. It had been a long conversation but there were a few specific minutes that was currently playing over and over again in Tim’s head.
“It’s what you’re supposed to serve to family, especially if they’ve been away. Which is one of the reasons why the Demon’s Head hates us drinking it, cause we renounced all that when we were taken into his service and he doesn’t want anyone to be reminded of the things they gave up.”
Unable to raise his eyes from the floor, Tim struggled to get control of the agony flaring up directly under his sternum. The heat of the drink had loosened something in his throat but thankfully he was still mute, otherwise who knew what humiliating sounds he would be unable to prevent himself from making.
Tim savagely reminded himself that this wasn’t real. This was a test or a trap or a deception hiding unknown goals. He had failed to be to be accepted by two separate families, Tim wasn’t brain dead enough to think that he was actually being invited to be part of a third. And by Damian of all people. Give him a fucking break.
Silently cursing alt-Jason for confiscating the pinwheel this morning, Tim bit the interior of his left cheek hard, using the physical discomfort to beat back the swell of despair. Made up world or not, he would be damned before he would once again embarrass himself in front of any Wayne with a messy display of emotions.
“Timothy? Is the tea to your liking?”
Damian’s tentative question spurred him to immediately clamp down on his out of control feelings and he shoved the entire mess to the back of his mind. Looking up and employing his gala smile set to fifty percent full strength, Tim set about gaining control of the situation. He kept his shoulders and hands relaxed as he replied.
“It’s great! The best I’ve ever had.”
Carefully, he finger spelled out the phonetic version of the Arabic word for thank you.
“S-h-u-k-r-a-n”
Damian’s face lit up with excitement.
“Do you speak Arabic?”
Tim signed “yes” and suppressed a smirk because Ra’s had never caught on to how fluent in Arabic he really was. It was just one more way that asshole had underestimated him.
Before Damian could follow up, Cass asked a question of her own.
“And you’ve spent time with the League?”
Tim drank more of his tea as he considered how to play this. Cass looked concerned rather than suspicious but the wrong approach in providing an answer could change that. He decided on a limited version of the truth, but first he wanted to know his tell.
“Yes. For a few months and mostly reluctantly. What gave that away?”
Cass motioned to his cup.
“You tasted a small amount first to test for fast acting poisons before fully drinking. That’s how members of the League drink everything. What happened? Did Ra’s kidnap you? The Bruce in your old universe must have been so worried!”
Tim barely prevented himself from snorting at Cass’ last question. Substitute “disappointed’ for “worried”, then sure, whatever. If Bruce hadn’t been stuck out of time he’d be feeling that. It was a good thing that Tim now had his emotions under such tight control, otherwise he would be freaking out hard core about unconsciously picking up habits from assassins, but as it was, he only made a mental note to condition himself to drop that behavior as soon as possible.
“I wasn’t the one kidnapped . I was far from home and with no backup on a mission. I needed help but I wouldn’t have gone to Ra’s if he hadn’t been holding a friend hostage. We worked out an exchange of services. My friend would go free and I could use Ra’s resources while I lead L.O.A. missions to fight the Council of the Spiders. Ra’s ended up regretting our deal since I was able to save my friend and leave after crashing his entire network.”
Tim lowered his hands and gave them both a smug smile. He might be a fuck up in other ways but he had totally owned the Demon’s Head. He knew that asshole would be gunning for him but first he had to crawl out of the stone age and get his entire operation back online.
With a start, he realized that if he truly was a clone in a different dimension, Ra’s wasn’t his problem any more. Before Tim could spiral into an existential crises about something which might not even be real, Damian spoke, his voice carrying a strange tone that immediately caught Tim’s attention.
“Ra’s Al-Ghul forced you into his service and you survived? And you escaped the League with his hostage?”
Tim blinked and took in the expressions from the two Waynes facing him,. Cassandra still appeared concerned but Damian’s stoic expression was disrupted by a pair of wide eyes that almost looked …. impressed? Wait, was he suppose to buy that Damian Wayne somehow thought Tim was cool?
He didn’t believe it for a second, but it was such a perfect cue that Tim was unable to prevent himself from smirking as he signed.
“What, like it’s hard?”
Cass starting laughing as Damian groaned and rolled his eyes.
“I see that the Richard in your dimension also subjected you to his favorite movie.”
Damian’s assumption was unexpectedly painful and Tim’s amusement drained away. While he had heard Dick quote from that movie more times than he could count, Tim had never been invited to watch it with him. In fact, his first and only viewing had happened at a Young Justice sleep over and it had been difficult to fake his enjoyment as he had watched it with his friends.
“Yes, something like that.”
Out of patience with himself and how that memory still made him feel pathetic and lonely, Tim decided to turn the tables and start getting answers to a few of his most pressing questions.
“Things seem very different here. In my world, Jason struggles with the Pit but here Jason seems to have it under control. Can you tell me how he was exposed?”
Finger spelling the word “Pit” threw an immediate damper on Cass’ merriment, leaving him to finish his question in silence. When he was done, she and Damian exchanged another look that carried an unspoken conversation. The strange pause caused Tim to have second thoughts about his bluntness and he began to walk it back.
“I am sorry if the question is upsetting. I will understand if this is a sensitive subject.”
Cass shook her head and gave him a reassuring smile.
“No, it’s ok. We can tell you what we know but Jason will give you more details if you ask him. He probably will want to talk with you about it anyway.”
Seriously doubting that, he looked over at Damian but the kid was nodding in agreement.
“He was the one to discover your alternate’s body and his grief made him vulnerable to manipulation from League agents. He was recruited and sent to Nanda Parbat where Ra’s convinced him to enter the Lazarus Pit so that he could return to Gotham and avenge Timothy’s death.”
Cass wove her fingers through the sleeping cat’s fur, her gaze sad and abstracted as she took up the story from Damian.
“He was lost to the Pit’s influence for a while. When I first saw him at Ra’s’ compound, he was fighting five men with swords and he killed them all. Afterwards he was covered in their blood for hours and he didn’t seem to notice. But he didn’t stay Ra’s’ puppet for long, eventually he was able to beat back the Pit through sheer force of will and regain his mind. He always says that it was his memory of Tim’s faith in Robin that gave him the strength to do it. Once he refused to kill anymore, Ra’s sent him to the dungeons.”
Visibly shaking herself free from the memories, Cass straightened and looked at her brother. Damian gave an obliging tilt of his head.
“Which is where Mother was able to contact him and make plans for all of us to escape the League.”
Ok. Wow. What even was this “reality”? Tim needed a moment to process everything Damian and Cass had said. He took the opportunity to finish his tea, head down, eyes adverted as his thoughts churned through the data that had just been provided.
This Jason had gone into the Lazarus Pit willingly and in full health, is that why he was able to control the hyper-rage more effectively? Using alt-Tim as some sort of “inspiration”? And what the fuck was this need to avenge alt-Tim’s death all about? He figured that most likely alt-Tim had died while trying to follow Robin because he had had more than a few close calls during his time as a Bat stalker. And sure, finding the body of a kid you knew, who had slipped from a roof, would be upsetting but why would that prompt Jason to leave everything behind and become an assassin? Instead of going splat, did a rouge kill him? Holy shit, did the Joker kill him?
Unfortunately, while his head was running at mach five his hands were stuck in the slow lane. He had taken some damage to his shoulder a few days ago and the longer he held up his hands to sign the more the bruise ached. And just to make things even more fantastic, numbness was creeping around his right palm and up his fingers He was already getting sloppy with his signs and soon his impairment would be obvious.
Damian poured more of the hot liquid into his cup and Tim signed his gratitude for the action. He drank down half of it before running a self diagnostic. The sugar and caffeine were giving his synapses a much needed boost and for the most part his body was functional with overall pain levels being within acceptable parameters. His throat no longer felt like it was caught in a vise but he didn’t want to risk trying to croak out a few words in front of witnesses just yet.
Aside from the issue with his arm and hand, his body was mission ready but his head was a mess of half thought questions and mixed emotions. He was still in the process of formulating his first follow up question when the cat woke up.
It moved into a languid stretch and gave a yawn, blinking away the remnants of it’s nap as it’s movement drew all eyes to it. Within seconds it had registered Tim’s presence and was stepping out of Cass’ lap with a curious tilt to it’s head.
Tim had always loved cats and the one approaching him was a particularly impressive representation of the species. It was inky black except for the white that marked his chest and paws, and bright green eyes that were currently giving him an appraising look.
Tim froze, despite his fondness he usually admired cats from afar and had rarely interacted with one. It stopped directly in front of him and sat with an expectant air, obviously waiting for Tim to take the next step in their interaction. Tim allowed his confusion to be obvious and Damian quickly came to his rescue.
“This is Alfred the Cat. He wants to consider you as a potential vassal, you must hold out one of your hands for an inspection. If he accepts you, you should pet him or he will be highly offended.”
The whimsy of Damian’s words contrasted sharply with the serious expression on the kid’s face and ridiculously, Tim felt his stomach tightening with anxiety as if this truly was a meeting with high stakes.
He dipped his shoulders in what would have been a bow if he was standing and signed “My apologies, your lordship.”, prompting a smile from Cass while a quirk of the lips interrupted the intensity of Damian’s expression. Tim followed the instructions and the cat gave a few sniffs before coming closer to rub it’s cheek along the side of his hand while purring.
It’s fur was soft and it’s half closed eyes gleamed with approval. It was all so different from any encounter that Tim had had in years that a treacherous weakness began to rise up in him. To his horror he realized that if his control had been any less severe, he possibly could be in tears right now like a fucking child.
It took all of Tim’s resolve to keep his face calm as the cat came closer and climbed up into his lap. He was expecting the cat to settle down for another nap but instead it raised up to butt its head against the underside of his chin all while still vibrating madly with the strength of its purr. The low, rumbling vibrations resonated inside his chest and for a one rare moment Tim felt at peace.
“Oh wait!”
Cass’s words broke the spell and his surroundings came rushing back into focus as she jumped to her feet and hurried away. He was left alone with Damian, which was just great.
Hiding his reluctance, Tim met the kid’s gaze calmly and was rattled to find no trace of sneering condemnation in his expression. Come on now, Tim had obviously lost his situational awareness for several long minuets and Damian wasn’t disgusted with him? Yeah, this reality was loosing more of its credibility the longer he stayed here.
“Here, try this.”
Cass was back and holding out a small rectangular touch screen. The illuminated display showed all of the characters of the alphabet in a grid and it could easily be held in one hand.
“This way you can pet Alfred the Cat and still talk with us. Dad gave it to me back when I had trouble speaking.”
Hiding his suspicions, Tim nodded and accepted the device while continuing to gently scratch the cat’s ears. It was almost too good to be believed that the solution to his rapidly weakening hand had been gifted to him in such a casual way. After a few moments of study, Tim quickly swiped at the keys and a high female voice that sounded straight out of an anime said “Thank you”.
Giggling, Cass took back the device for a moment and changed a setting. Once he had the screen back in his hand, Tim hesitated. He really should continue to subtly interrogate them about their history with Jason and the L.O.A. but for some reason he felt reluctant to return to what must be a painful subject for both of them. This Cass had not been able to escape David Cain and had been trapped at Nanda Parbat when Jason took his dip in the Pit while Damian had already said that he had lost his mother in a fight against Ra’s. Telling himself that he could return to the topic at a later date, Tim looked down at the cat leaning its weight against his chest before using the device. This time, the electronic voice was smoothly neutral as it sounded out his typed words.
“Is Alfred ok with Alfred The Cat or is he a secret?”
There was a general air of confusion coming from both of the Waynes, so Tim elaborated.
“In my world, Alfred would have never allowed a cat inside. it would be too much work for him.”
Damian’s puzzlement changed to understanding.
“Ah, your old world does not use housebots. How did Alfred manage? Were there servants to help keep up the manor? “
Tim wondered of Damian was really saying what Tim thought he was saying. There was no way they could have something that was as cool as the name implied working inside this place.
“There was a staff from a cleaning agency that would do their thing once a quarter but otherwise it was just Alfred. It’s fine though, because most of the manor has been sealed up for a long time. What is a housebot?”
Damian and Cass looked at each other and smiled before she sang the melody to some unknown pop song and he whistled a few sharp notes.
There was the sound of movement and then two doors opened letting two, honest-to-the-gods, freaking robots roll into the hallway and approach them. Tim felt his eyes widen and he knew he had lost control of his expression but for a second he didn’t care because the urge to get his hands dirty by exploring unknown advanced technology was overpowering. Holy shit, Tim wanted to crack their exteriors like eggs and start taking them apart so fucking badly.
Looking proud, Damian gestured to the robot on the left which sported bright red racing stripes and a mechanical interpretation of an arabesque pattern running down it’s midline.
“This one is for my room. Father encouraged us to personalized them according to our tastes.”
Cass swept out her hand to indicate the other robot which was decorated with an elaborate abstract design of blues and purples.
“And this one is mine. Barbara taught us how to modify their code so that they would respond to custom inputs. I like to sing but Damian is too shy.”
Damian abruptly shoved at his sister but only caught air as she smoothly adjusted her position and smiled sweetly at his scowling face. Tim barely noticed, his attention divined between the cat and the technological wonders in front of him.
After a moment, he registered the pause in the conversation and belatedly typed out his reaction, which for the first time in the conversation was completely sincere.
“I can’t believe you guys have your own robots. Nice job tricking them out, they look very cool. Do I get one?”
If so, Tim wondered how long he could go before giving in to temptation and his bot met with an “accident”. His infiltrator would soon let him take control of the manor’s network, maybe he could take snag one and take it with him if it turned out he needed to escape? Suddenly Tim went on high alert as the full implications of the robots finally occurred to him. If one of these things was hidden away in his room, had it been observing him when he woke up? Had Tim already given the game away? Trying to hide his reawakened paranoia, he studied the faces across from him but found nothing but amusement and gratification.
Damian especially seemed pleased with his reaction.
“Of course. We can ask Alfred to assign you one from storage.”
Cass clapped her hands in excitement.
“Oh! And then we can help you come up with a design and decorate it!”
Unused to be confronted with such enthusiasm Tim felt awkward and more out of place than usual. He typed “That would be great.” and hoped that his usual polite social mask was safely keeping his inner turmoil under wraps.
Cass continued on, still merrily making plans for the future.
“And then when Mom gets back, you can meet all of her cats. She’ll be so happy that you are such a cat person! She’ll know how to get a kitten that you can raise for you own!”
There was a record scratch in Tim’s head. Was Cass on that kind of good terms with Lady Shiva here? Tim looked to Damian for clarification and he didn’t disappoint.
“She means Selina. Father will wed her this fall and she will move in to the manor with all of her feline companions.”
Cass looked thrown by his confusion.
“Aren’t Bruce and Selina together in your old world?”
Tim typed an answer, deleted it, typed another message and after deleting it again settled for a simple response.
“No, they are not.”
They had been close once, before Jason had died. Tim had vivid memories of witnessing warm smiles and teasing voices when their paths would cross at night. He had been too young and too focused on Robin to pick up on the romantic undertones in their interactions but it was all obvious in hindsight. But whatever warmth that had grown between them had turned ice cold by the time he was Robin. The one time they had encountered Catwoman on their patrol, her words had been vicious and she hadn’t held back as she had fought Batman. Bruce had had to spend weeks covering up the wounds on his face that she had made with her claws.
As far as he knew, that’s was the last time Catwoman had been seen in Gotham. However, when he had returned to Drake manor that night, there had been a package waiting for him at the front door. It had contained a touristy I-Heart-Gotham keyring which Tim had promptly taken apart to discover a hidden button and transmitter. There had been a note inside the box that had said “Gotham can be a hazardous place for song birds. But if they sing, they will be heard.”
Once again Tim found himself unmoored by the possibility that he was a clone. The keyring was still sitting in a hidden drawer in his room at Drake manor. He had always been too afraid to press the button and now he might never know what would have happened if the beacon was activated. Would it just be one more distress call that was ignored or had Selina made a promise that night that she had intended to keep?
Alfred The Cat made a disgruntled sound and Tim realized that he had been sitting frozen in place. Quickly he looked down and gave the cat a few, apologetic strokes. The cat shot him a look that was so much like Alfred’s see-that-you-do-better-next-time-young-man look that he was startled into a laugh. Alfred The Cat gave a remarkably human sounding “hmpf” and left his lap. After rubbing his cheek against Tim’s knee one last time he circled back to scent mark Cass and Damian before walking off, intent on very important cat business.
Tim couldn’t help smiling as he typed “I see why you named him after Alfred.”
Thankfully both Wayne’s were willing to leave the subject of Selina behind. Damian’s tone was amused as he responded.
“Yes, the resemblance is truly remarkable at times.”
Cass nodded in agreement.
“The best part is when Alfred cooks fish and won’t let Alfred the Cat have a taste. The “I am very disappointed in you” glare he gives is amazing!”
All three of them smirked at the thought and for once, Tim felt like he was not just standing on the outskirts of a group trying to fake his way in.
“This is dangerous” he thought but before he could start raising his defenses, Cass was off and running with a new topic.
“You said that the other manor was mostly sealed up. Does that mean that you’ve never had a tour?”
Taken aback, Tim tried to get clarity.
“A tour of this place? No?”
He had only lived at the manor for a year and his arrival had been a subdued affair that had barely warranted a special dessert from Alfred. There had been no tour, only a list of places he was told to avoid. What a strange fucking question.
Cass jumped to her feet and impatiently waved her hands, gesturing Damian and Tim to stand.
“Damian, we have to give him the tour!”
Damian seemed to agree that this was a matter of the highest importance and he also looked nervous? Curious and a little apprehensive, Tim leveraged himself upright to standing.
Cass was already walking away but Damian paused before following so Tim waited as well. The kid seemed torn between earnestness and apprehension and Tim was swamped with the immediate need to reassure him no matter what he was about to say.
“I hope the tour will be enjoyable and I apologize in advance for some of the rhymes.”
Despite his desire to be supportive, Tim couldn’t quite make sense of Damian’s words. He tilted his head as if a change in perspective could give him clarity.
Before Damian could say more, Cass appeared at their side and gave a huge sigh.
“Come on, you guys. We’ve only got so much time before dinner starts.”
Sounding a lot like Bruce all of the sudden, Damian gave a grunt of agreement and a loss for what else to do, Tim shrugged and joined the Waynes as they made their way down the hall, trusting them to lead him to some unknown destination.