Chapter Text
He knew it was a dream from the moment he looked down at his gloved arms and saw red. Tim hadn’t worn that much color on his uniform in years. Which meant this was a dream from before. One specific dream, or more of a nightmare, really. The one that haunted him the most lately. Tim lifted his head, and sure enough, the muted outline of one of Gotham’s rougher streets stretched out before him, the shapes around him liquid and shifting, as they only could be in a dream.
Somewhere ahead of him, the majority of Gotham’s protectors were trying to subdue a new magic user that had shown up in the city and had started to wreak havoc with volatile powers he barely had control over. Tim rushed to reach and help them, just as he had done then, after falling behind to aid a couple to get out of harm’s way.
By the time he got there, the scene was already a disaster. Cass and Steph were busy trying to save civilians from falling rubble and stray energy blasts. Tim could hear Jason shouting through the comms but he couldn’t actually see where he was. Batman and Nightwing were closest to the magic user trying to take him out, followed closely by Robin, who could never be one to stay out of the heart of the battle. Then that moment came.
This far away from the fight, Tim was the only one who saw it.
One energy blast, a thing of dark purple energy and black particles, heading towards Robin’s back, towards Damian. Before he even knew it, Tim was there, pushing Damian out of the way so hard he stumbled and taking the brunt of the blast.
Things in the dream get blurry after that, shapes disintegrating in sharp purple lights and black spots, senses lost in a vortex of blinding pain, similar to how it had happened in real life.
One of the last things he remembers is Damian’s stunned expression, bleeding on his face even through the domino mask - swords slack in his arms, as if he couldn’t believe Tim had actually done that. Which, yeah.
And the last thing Tim saw was Dick’s hand. An electric blue stripe in his fading vision reaching out, always reaching out to him, and Tim had reached back, Tim reaches back now, but it’s pointless.
Dick’s fingers slip through his own like mist and a purple nothingness envelops him. Tim is no more. He is falling. He is —
-
Tim jerked awake — covered in cold sweat and every muscle in his body tight as a bowstring. He counted his breaths until his pulse felt less like he had just jumped from the rooftop of a thirty feet tall building. Usually dreams didn’t affect him that much, but no matter how many times he dreamt a variation of this nightmare, it never failed to get to him.
The funny thing was, the dream in itself was not that bad, it was what came after it — waking up in the real nightmare.
Tim reached out an arm and blindly searched for his phone, buried somewhere in the mess on the nightstand next to his bed. He found it, and the screen lit up the entire room in artificial blue light, the numbers on it reading 04:47 in the morning.
Tim huffed and ran a hand through his hair. It was way too early, but he knew that it was pointless to try and go back to sleep. He got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Through the thin walls of the house could hear the drunk snoring of his Uncle — and wasn’t that a surprise when he first got here. Tim, after coming out of the shock he was still alive and realizing he had landed in an Alternate Earth, learned that this version had more differences than similarities with his original one, but when there were similarities, they often ended up bizarre.
By all means, this was a completely ordinary world; no superheroes, no magic, no aliens. Cities like Gotham, Metropolis, and Bludhaven didn’t exist, and people like Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Clark Kent and so on, also didn’t.
For some strange reason, archeologists Jack and Janet Drake, along with their son, Timothy, existed. Though this version of his parents' lives were quite a bit different from Tim’s own, they weren’t particularly wealthy for one, but their fate was ultimately the same even if it happened differently — death. Janet and Jack Drake perished during an accident on their camp while on an archeological dig, leaving a thirteen year old Timothy in the care of his paternal uncle, Eddie Drake.
And, who could guess that the fake uncle Tim had created once upon a time in a complicated scheme to temporarily avoid getting adopted by Bruce(which he fell for), actually existed on another earth?
Tim certainly couldn’t have guessed - which is why it was such a fun surprise when, after getting hit with a mysterious energy blast and feeling his body disintegrating, he woke up in a small room that was decidedly not his, in a city that was definitely not Gotham, with an unfamiliar man shouting his name at him through the door. And in addition, because the situation wasn’t bad enough already, Tim woke up in a body that was at least two years younger, making him fifteen.
Around a year and something had passed since that day, and Tim had been tirelessly trying to find a way home, but this world was significantly less advanced in terms of technology, making it nearly impossible for him to make any kind of progress.
Still, he hasn’t given up.
After a quick shower, Tim got ready for his day to start early. He grabbed his bag and headed towards the kitchen, bypassing his uncle who was passed out on the couch in the living room. The contents of their cupboards were a sad thing that could make Alfred cry. It was mostly pre-packaged meals which required minimal preparation, leftovers from takeout, and of course, alcohol. The only real food they had was from when Tim was the one to buy groceries and cook proper meals.
Turns out, Tim wasn’t missing out much with his previously non-existent uncle. He was a dour guy with an addiction problem, who survived mostly on disability. He had absolutely no interest in what his nephew was doing as long as he stayed out of his way, and this situation suited Tim just fine.
Tim grabbed a sandwich and headed outside. He checked the time again; 05:11.
One of the most annoying things about being stranded here is that Tim had to go to school again. He briefly considered quitting, to fully commit his attention on finding a way home, but he doesn’t actually know what happened to this universe’s version of himself. Maybe they switched places, maybe it was another complicated multiverse travel nonsense, but Tim didn’t want to risk ruining his counterpart’s life in any case, so school it was.
Not that his school started for another two hours, but he could kill one hour in a paced run towards the building, and another one hiding in the empty library.
His day dragged slowly from that point onwards, from waiting for school to start, to going through his classes while barely paying attention to them because he already knew the material, and finally heading to the school stadium for the only thing that made him feel a little bit more alive while maintaining this tedious routine — Exy.
In the beginning, Exy was just another obligation Tim had to participate into. It was a particularly annoying one, considering he knew nothing about the sport, but was expected to play like he had years of experience, because the version of Tim here did. It would be kind to call the first couple of weeks that he actually bothered to show up for practice a disaster. His Coach couldn’t believe how Tim, in the span of a month, managed to go from one of her star players to someone who didn’t know basic rules of the game.
Tim considered quitting altogether, but he persisted for the sole reason that the sport offered a good way to exercise his growing frustration with the situation he was stuck in. And now, two years later, he was actually pretty decent, and he had come to enjoy playing to a degree he hadn’t expected he would.
Today was maybe the last game of the season, depending on the outcome of it. Tim did his usual routine of rushing to change before everybody and getting out on the court without bothering to interact much with his teammates. He hadn’t tried to make any friends since he got here and his alternate self was apparently a loner. After around an hour of the teams getting ready, the game started.
Tim played as if the game was a fight.
Avoiding the players trying to tackle him with lightning-quick predictions based on body language, holding himself steady against stick checks that should have made a normal player’s arms shake and fail, and hurling the ball towards the goal with a trajectory calculated before it even left his racquet. He was letting a little bit of his training leak into his playing style, and while this was something he absolutely would have never allowed himself to do if he was back home, here nobody trying to connect Tim Drake to a secret identity existed. Exy was a brutal sport and Tim let himself embrace its rougher aspects.
By the end of the game Tim had scored six out of the nine points his team had, but the opposing team had twelve. He wasn’t that disappointed with the loss as he cared more about the way his muscles burned and the pleasant exhaustion that he felt after every game. Back in the changing room his teammates were taking their time, the disappointment with the game’s result clear by their moodiness. Tim, like every time, hung back to use the showers only after everyone had left.
One of the reasons he didn’t think that he simply switched places with his counterpart was the fact that although he had woken up in a younger version of his body, he still had his scars. There was no way the Tim here had accumulated such a collection of scars without spending half of his life crime-fighting. And besides the scars there were other small strange things, like the color of his eyes being more gray than blue than he remembered, and his hair being a significantly lighter shade.
Tim rushed through the shower and getting changed into his normal clothes. Even if he still had scars that would definitely raise some suspicion, he also had a lifetime practice hiding them. Just as he was about to leave a call from his coach stopped him.
‘’Tim, I have something I need to discuss with you before you go. Please, come to my office.’’
Tim had no idea what Coach Hill wanted with him especially now with their season over, but he followed her to the room. Inside waiting for them was a broad, middle-aged man with tribal flame tattoos visible on his exposed forearms and a folder open in his hands. He looked up at their entrance but didn’t immediately say anything. His gaze was firmly settled on Tim, almost if he was studying him. Finally Coach Hill broke the silence.
‘’Tim, this is what I wanted to talk to you about. I know you said you weren’t interested, but I couldn’t at least not try. This is Coach Wymack, he is from a university team.’’
Tim should have guessed what this was going to be about. His Coach had tried countless times to talk to him about continuing to play after graduation, and Tim had cut short that conversation down every time. He liked playing Exy, but he couldn’t afford it to be more than a temporary distraction. Still, it seems like Coach Hill hadn’t given up and he was a little annoyed that she had gone and done this.
‘’I’m not interested,’’ Tim said in a polite but firm tone.
‘’So I’ve been informed, but you could at least give me two minutes to listen to my offer since I’m already here. It was a good game today.’’
So he had been here long enough to watch the game as well. Tim vaguely recalls seeing somebody with similar appearance watching the game from the first line of seats.
‘’We lost.’’
‘’Yes, but not because of you. Not to say your team was bad, but It’s not often I see someone putting so much of themselves in every step, every throw, every moment of the game. That’s the kind of player I want on my team.’’
‘I appreciate the offer, but compliments won’t change my mind.’’
Wymack huffed out a dry laugh.
‘’Believe me, kid, I’m not the kind of guy to give compliments to people, what I said was simply the truth.’’
Tim wondered why Wymack was putting so much effort and time in trying to recruit him. His stats weren’t that bad, but they definitely could have been better. Wymack didn’t exactly come off as desperate for new players, but there was something about him that Tim couldn't quite place.
‘’I’m sure you have other impressive possible recruits, why waste so much effort for somebody you knew from the beginning wasn’t interested?’’ Tim inquired.
At that, Coach Hill, who for the most part had stayed quiet, got a strange look on her face. She started to say something but cut herself off and instead ended with, “I’ll leave you two alone to discuss things.” And then she left the room.
Wymack watched her retreat before turning towards Tim again.
‘’Look, you have real potential, I’m offering you a chance to turn that potential into something real, something that can get you out of here.’’
The phrasing of his last sentence was strange.
‘’What that’s supposed to mean?’’
Wymack looked at him for a second, as if trying to decide something, before finally asking.
‘’Have you heard anything about my team, the Palmetto State Foxes?’’
‘’I don’t keep up with sports news,’’ Tim didn’t keep up much with news in general these days, in this world.
Wymack hummed thoughtfully.
‘’That makes sense then. I have certain standards for my recruits that are a bit unorthodox, It usually narrows my choices considerably. But your Coach sent me your file along with some notes and I have a feeling you fit that criteria, as well as being an incredible athlete. That’s why I’m here.’’
‘’What kind of standards exactly?’’
Wymack stalled answering for a second, seemingly to consider exactly how to word his response.
‘’I recruit those who no one else would under normal circumstances — people who’ve been given up on and people who have given up on themselves. I try to give a second chance to those who need it.’’
Whatever Tim had been expecting him to say, this was so far away from it that it startled a surprised huff from him. What kind of recruiting practices were these, and how would the management of a professional team would allow them?
‘’And how exactly do I fit this criteria?’’
‘’Your Coach says she has seen you come to practice with bruises, and you never change around others, or interact with your teammates in general.’’ Wymack’s tone, despite the context of what he was saying, remained even and unobothered.
And, Tim should have been more careful. It’s not like since he had gotten here he has been purposely letting his guard down as much as he was just…tired. The bruises Wymack was referring to were from the occasional times Tim still went out through the night. In this world, where vigilantes weren’t common, every time he went out was a risk for unwanted attention, but some nights Tim just couldn’t sit around and do nothing — his body humming with unused energy and mind unable to focus on anything in particular for more than a few minutes.
That he hadn’t bothered to cover up the aftermath of those nights as he usually did was carelessness, and he shouldn’t have been surprised his Coach came to such conclusions.
‘’My Coach doesn’t know how to mind her business, and neither do you apparently. You both know nothing about me,’’ Tim returned.
‘’Maybe, I do know something else though. Remember when I said I rarely see a player putting so much of themselves in the game, the truth is I didn’t see someone trying to win a game, I saw someone trying to drown themselves in it.’’
And to that Tim didn’t have an immediate response.
Because Wymack wasn’t necessarily wrong. Tim had been using Exy as a distraction, something to lose himself in for a couple of hours a day. Mind focused entirely on only one thing, and body running itself ragged with exhaustion. He didn’t like it that Wymack had seen through him so easily.
Tim took the following silence to really consider Wymack’s offer.
Would it really be that bad if he accepted it? As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was stuck here. His attempts and research to get back home hadn’t been very successful, so far. Would it be that disastrous if he took some time away, took a momentary break to go to college and play a sport he liked? To experience the normal kind of life his Dad wanted him to have, before he passed. Singing didn’t have to mean he was giving up, just taking a little bit of time.
Before he could decide anything though, he needed more information. So to Wymack he turned not with an answer, but a request.
‘’Can I have time to think about it?’’
Wymack checked something on his phone before answering.
‘’My flight doesn’t leave until 12:00 pm tomorrow. If an early hour isn’t a problem for you, we can meet again in the morning to discuss further details.’’
Tim agreed and took the folder with documents Wymack handed him before leaving, even though he hadn’t agreed to anything yet. Outside the office, Coach Hill was waiting for him with a hopeful expression that only grew when she spotted the folder in his hands, but Tim spared her only a couple of words, and then he was gone.
-
When he got home, the first thing Tim did was to open his laptop and search up the Palmetto State Foxes.
To say the results were a lot would be an understatement. Tim spent the next couple of hours digging through the internet for any information regarding the Foxes, and the more he found, the more he was simultaneously intrigued and surprised that such a team existed in this supposedly normal, peaceful Earth. Deaths, overdoses, charges of murder, and so much more, all centred around a team that didn’t have more than fifteen players. It seemed like Wymack’s idea to form a team that functioned as a halfway house of sorts, achieved both bad and great results, given that they won the championship last year, despite everything that’s happened to them.
But above everything, the thing that most caught Tim’s interest was the team accidentally recruiting the son of a notorious gangster. That, and them getting themselves involved in what he suspects is a conflict against a person affiliated with a branch of the Japanese Mafia.
After processing that bit of information, he had to take a break and reassure himself that — yes, he was still stuck here, and not back home where the news that a college sports team got involved with the mafia would not be that out of the ordinary.
By the time he was done researching, Tim thought that playing for the Foxes could turn out to be a lot more interesting than he first imagined.
-
The next morning, Tim met up with Wymack in a cafe nearby the school. The first five minutes after they sat down consisted of complete silence while Wymack went through a large cup of coffee at a borderline unhealthy speed. Finally, Tim broke the spell by taking out the signed contract from his backpack and placing it on the table between them.
Wymack glanced at it, something like satisfaction passing through his expression, before taking the piece of paper in his own hands to examine it.
‘’Good. Now, we only have to settle a couple of more things. Your information tells me that your eighteenth birthday is still a couple of months away?’’
In reality, Tim was already nineteen, turning on twenty, but there was no way he could explain that so he went along with what was written in his file.
‘’Yes.’’
‘’Is parental consent going to be an issue?’’
Tim assumed he was likely asking because of the unfortunate speculations Coach Hill had come to about his home life and passed them on so he could qualify for the team. Again, Tim couldn’t correct him, but he also didn’t want to leave the impression that there was any truth to them.
‘’It’s not a problem.’’
Wymack regarded him for a second, and Tim had a feeling he didn’t fully believe him, but he didn’t press the issue.
‘'Alright, one last thing. I’m saying this to you because I offer the same opportunities to every new Fox. If you want to move in early or need a place to stay, you can crash in with either our team nurse or me.’’
Tim was about to automatically refuse, but he stopped himself at the last second. While he didn’t need to move in early, maybe going there a week or two in advance to survey his future situation and how things worked before everybody moved back in wasn’t a bad idea. He liked to know his surroundings. And it wasn’t like since he got stuck here he had a lot of funds to spend them on a hotel room.
‘’I may need to come in a couple of weeks early, if it's not a problem.’’
‘’Wasn’t going to offer it if it was, kid.’’ Wymack returned in his usual tone, but Tim could tell that his admittance of wanting to move early didn’t leave him entirely unaffected.
With no more things left to discuss, there wasn’t a reason for them to linger anymore in the cafe. Tim was walking towards the door, when just before he went out of earshot he heard Wymack saying.
‘’Welcome to the line.’’