Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tim’s brain was aching. 

One would think that a corporate-owned killing machine would be immune to pain, but no. Instead, Tim had to deal with the consequences of his irregular recharge cycles. So here he was, head throbbing as he stood motionless behind the human he was supposed to be watching. He was only half-paying attention, engrossed in the text he’d pulled up in his feed about the origins of coffee. His mechanical heart yearned for the ancient coffee forests of the Ethiopian plateau, but he was stuck here, light-years from Earth, on some godforsaken planet that nobody had any business inhabiting. 

He kept his expression carefully impassive, though his clients couldn’t see through the opaque helmet that he wore. He’d just reached his favorite chapter in the book, a guide on how Earth humans used to make their own coffee using an antiquated machine called a Keurig, when a yell of surprise interrupted his skimming. 

Fine, then. Tim would admit that he’d been distracted. But this job was boring, despite the people he was working with. All of his jobs were boring. First, he’d been stunted, somehow, looking more like a scrawny sixteen-year-old human than a fully-grown SecUnit. Then, after hacking his governor module, which was essentially a taser in his brain set to fry him if he didn’t obey orders from the HubSystem, he’d murdered an entire mining colony that he was supposed to be guarding. At least, that’s what he’d managed to put together from news sources and some simple detective work. The Company had wiped his memory after the incident, of course. Tim was surprised they hadn’t scrapped him, given his physical defects and his tendency to murder without explicit orders, but hey. Continuing to exist, unpaid worker though he was, meant that he could continue daydreaming about the sweet taste of coffee. He’d expected something more engaging, given the fact that he was working with the Bruce Wayne and his crew (epic anti-corporation freedom fighters, not that Tim would ever tell anyone that he knew their secret), but his expectations had been subverted. Initially, he’d enjoyed stalking them via the habitat’s cameras, but activity was too limited on this planet. Tim had gotten bored almost instantly.

So. The yelling. This planet was barren and offensively orange, riddled with sinkholes. Nobody in his survey team had mentioned the cause of the sinkholes, so Tim had assumed that it wasn’t important. He was just along for the ride, after all, pretending that nothing had changed since he’d hacked his governor module. However, it appeared as if the humans were either stupid or inept because the sinkholes had been created by worms. Giant worms. Giant worms with razor-sharp teeth. And nobody had bothered to tell Tim, their security unit. 

Bruce was barely veiling his panic over comms, strained voice ordering them to get the raft in the air immediately. Tim could hear the ship dissolving into chaos as the rest of the crew realized that they couldn’t make it to the worm-adjacent crew members in time. Tim was bombarded with a series of commands, getting conflicting routes of action from HubSystem and the emergency system. Instead of paying attention to what they were telling him to do, Tim jumped into the crater. 

He grabbed the energy weapon from his back. Tim had ones built into both of his arms, but those weren’t going to pack enough of a punch. It was a really, really big worm, and it looked less than excited about them invading its territory. He dragged Steph out of range, shoving her behind him as he shoved himself into the worm’s mouth. The unpleasant smell of charred meat filled his nose (which shouldn’t be happening, he’d have to check his helmet’s filtration system later) as he shot down the worm’s throat and fired another shot into where its brain would theoretically be. 

Tim barely managed to escape from the worm’s gaping maw as it retreated back into the depths from whence it came. He ducked and rolled, trying to mitigate the momentum of his fall. When he tried to stand, a flash of pain emanated from his knee, and he immediately turned down his pain sensors. He couldn’t shut them off entirely, so this would have to work for now. 

He turned to Steph. Her eyes were glazed, and a rivulet of blood ran down her arm. It looked like she’d been snagged on a tooth before Tim moved her out of the way. Another burst of commands came through the governor module, and he sidelined them. He waved a hand in front of her face, trying to get her glassy eyes to focus. It didn’t work. Shock, then. He’d seen that plenty of times. There was a protocol for this. 

Tim’s vision blurred as he stood to his full height. He could feel wetness covering the front of his suit, a combination of fluids and blood. Maybe he’d been more injured than he thought. He turned his pain sensors down a little bit more. Steph was much more difficult to repair than Tim was. “It’s going to be okay,” Tim reassured. The lack of inflection in his voice probably wasn’t the most comforting, but function over form. If he let emotions into his voice, he’d probably just sound tense, which wouldn’t help the situation. “Grab my arm, okay? Hold on. I’m going to lead you back to the ship.”

Something in his words must have worked because Steph grabbed on. She was already looking less pale, though she hadn’t verbally responded to Tim’s words yet. He led her up the steep incline of the crater, trying to keep her grounded. The comms were finally quiet–Bruce must have told everyone to shut up. Good. The last thing Tim needed right now was a horde of panicking humans. Tim knew that Bruce and his crew were accustomed to tense situations due to their extracurricular anti-corporate activities, but they acted like any terrified human the moment that they couldn’t do anything about a situation. The footing on the side of the crater was unsteady, and sand streamed down the slope each time he took a step. Luckily, Tim’s legs weren’t as damaged as his arm and torso, so he was able to keep his balance and support as much of Steph’s weight as he could. Half of Tim was wishing that he had picked up Steph–he could feel something poking out of his torso and pressing into his suit. An organ, maybe? Having something pressed against him, even a person, would probably make him bleed more slowly. 

Now that they were at the top of the crater, Tim finally reran his field footage. Well, the weird bit in his torso wasn’t an organ, at least. It appeared as if he’d stolen one of the worm’s teeth. It had impaled his side, bits of pink attached to where it had dislodged from the worm’s mouth. Gross. Tim took the disgust and shoved it into a little box, making an active decision not to think about it. 

The ship lowered, not far from them, and Tim led Steph up the ramp. Dick and Jason met him at the entrance, and Tim could hear Jason cursing over Dick’s worried voice. “Representative Wayne,” Tim said over the comms. Neither Dick nor Jason looked at him, eyes glued to Steph. The entire crew were Waynes, but only one of them held the title Representative. “What should I do?” It was protocol to ask. Tim was hoping that Bruce would tell him to leave Steph with the others, but instead, he received a less-than-optimal response. 

“Bring her up to the crew cabin.” It sounded like Bruce had regained at least a semblance of calm now that it was obvious Steph was alright. 

SecUnits weren’t allowed to ride in the crew cabin with the humans, so Tim needed explicit permission to enter. When Bruce’s eyes widened at seeing the tooth protruding from Tim’s back, though, Tim wished to be back in the storage compartment with the cargo. Sure, Bruce was stoic and usually calm, unlike the other humans, but he was still human. And right now, he was looking at Tim with an expression that almost bordered on concern. Dick and Jason entered the crew cabin behind them, and the bot pilot took off. The movement made Tim’s legs wobble, and he forced himself to stay standing. He didn’t like how the humans were looking at him. 

Babs was clearing off the seat next to her, and Tim led Steph to it. He steeled himself. Report time, then he could go off and recover from his wounds in peace. “Minimal injuries,” he stated, trying to sound as robotic as possible. It looked like Dick was ten seconds from crying. Tim hated it when Dick cried. It made him uncomfortable. “Dr. Stephanie is in shock, but it appears to be lessening. Minor cut to the upper left forearm, unlikely to need stitches.” 

As Tim finished reporting, a notification flashed in his vision. Reliability at 60% and dropping. This was far from ideal. Unless Tim wanted to have an involuntary shutdown in front of his clients, he needed to get out of here. 

The ship continued its flight, headed back to the habitat. Bruce nodded. “Hn.” The mission leader had learned not to thank Tim back at the beginning of their forced proximity. Bot/Human constructs weren’t used to being thanked, and Tim was no exception to that rule. Alfred pressed a cup of something steaming into Steph’s hands. Tim knew at a glance that it wasn’t coffee. A shame. 

Bruce’s eyes kept darting to Tim’s injuries, shifting away periodically as if he thought Tim hadn’t noticed the attention. Dick broke the silence. “Er…SecUnit?” The word sounded foreign in his mouth. “You have. Um. A tooth.” He gestured to the object. “There’s blood.”

Tim’s first thought was that it technically wasn’t blood. His second thought, once Dick’s words had registered, was to wish that the worm had swallowed him whole. He hated human attention–it never meant anything good. He’d been around these humans for nearly a month now, and they were weirdly nice, but that didn’t mean he’d lower his guard around them. “Apologies,” Tim said. “I will leave and clean up the mess later. If that’s fine.” He turned to Alfred as he spoke. Sure, Bruce was technically the person in charge, but everyone knew (even Tim) that Alfred was the real power on board. Plus, Alfred was more likely to let Tim leave. 

Reliability at 50% and dropping. 

Alfred nodded, and Bruce sighed. “Do you need help?” 

The question made Tim’s organic parts do something uncomfortable. He blamed it on his rapidly plunging reliability. “Um,” he said like an idiot. “No?”

And then he left. 

Reliability at 45% and dropping. 

~~~

Tim managed to make it back to the habitat in mostly one piece, no thanks to his clients. He managed to hide in the cargo hold, out of sight of the humans. Through the ship’s cameras, he could see Dick searching the ship (probably for Tim, which made Tim’s stomach twist). Thankfully, he’d managed to keep out of sight until they’d docked. 

Reliability at 30% and dropping. 

Being in the cargo hold gave Tim the advantage of taking a separate, faster exit than the ramp, which he took perhaps overhasty advantage of. Crimson droplets of fluids splattered on the ground as Tim limped to the cubicle he was staying in. Oof. Alfred wasn’t going to be happy about the mess–Tim would send a cleaner bot to take care of it later.

The cubicle lit up red. Tim’s breath caught at how chilled the room was. It looked like his temperature regulators finally gave out. After hauling off his armor to reveal the black crew suit beneath, he plugged himself into the resupply and repair leads. Tim leaned against the wall and shivered. The medical system gave Tim an unhelpful update on his status, informing him that it would take eight hours to restore him to 80% functionality. 

Tim had been sitting there for an hour, staring at the wall since he wasn’t in the headspace to do much else, when someone knocked on the door. The echoing sound made Tim wince. “Uh, yes?” Tim once again blamed his idiocy on his still-low functionality. 

The door slid open and Bruce walked in. The man was frowning, as usual, but Tim got the sense that something was wrong. Maybe it was the fact that Bruce had come into his cubicle in the first place. “It’s cold in here,” Bruce said, avoiding looking directly at Tim. “Do you want me to have Alfred turn the heat on?” 

Tim didn’t say anything. Bruce had to know that Tim’s cubicle didn’t have a heating function, right? Bruce was Batman. The Dark Knight. Anti-corporate extraordinaire. The only thing that he (hopefully) didn’t know was that Tim had hacked his governor module. 

Bruce cleared his throat, taking another step into the cramped room. “Are you all right? I saw your status report.” 

Tim swallowed back a scoff. The status report in which Tim said he would be offline, and therefore alone, for eight hours? Yet here Bruce was, barging into Tim’s space like any other human would. Like any corporate would. The question made Tim want to crawl out of his skin and run as far away as possible. He scanned his files to see what a reasonable response to Bruce’s question would be. “I’m fine.” That seemed like a safe answer. Maybe it would get Bruce to leave him alone. 

“Fine?” Bruce, unfortunately, did not sound convinced. “You lost twenty percent of your body mass.” Tim was beginning to wish that he’d manually shut himself down during the medical system’s restoration of his slightly broken body. Then he would have been able to avoid his two least-favorite things: boredom, and humans asking him if he was alright. Not that the second one happened very often. 

“It’ll grow back.” It was currently growing back, and it would grow back even faster if Tim’s clients would leave him alone for once. This entire assignment had consisted of Dick staring at him, Alfred asking him if he needed anything, and Bruce visibly holding himself back from ordering Tim to…well, Tim wasn’t exactly sure, but he knew it wouldn’t be anything good. He’d never been stuck with a group of humans like this before. He’d known that they weren’t from a Corporation Planet before he’d been assigned to them, but he hadn’t expected them to be so different from the other humans he’d worked with. Sure, they were kind of heroes (kind of Tim’s heroes), but he’d known from the second he’d first seen them that their activities didn’t make them any less human. And Tim wasn’t fond of humans. 

Bruce’s face pinched in a way that meant he was deciding to drop the topic even though he didn’t want to. He made that face around Jason a lot. At this point, Tim had switched to watching Bruce through the cameras. “Sure,” Bruce said, voice flatter than Tim’s had been. Impressive. Bruce’s inability to externalize his emotions meant that he was one of the more tolerable crew members to be around. “You did a great job with Steph,” he ventured, immediately making Tim take back any positive thoughts he’d had about the man. “I don’t think the others realized. They were very impressed.”

There were a few blanks in Bruce’s words that Tim was unable to fill in. His reliability stats dropped by five percent. Realized what? Impressed by what? 

Tim grasped at straws, trying to think of a vague enough answer that could give him plausible deniability for whatever he’d unintentionally done. “It’s in the emergency medical instructions.” Tim hugged his legs closer to himself, trying to hide the gore that was still seeping out of his torso. It appeared as if Tim’s stress levels were impeding the repair process. It was all Bruce’s fault, Batman or not. 

Bruce hummed. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He waved as he left, looking almost as awkward as Tim felt. 

The moment that the cubicle door slid closed, leaving Tim in sweet solitude, he accessed the feed to see if anyone had commented something that could solve the mystery Bruce had left him with. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to be able to access the crew’s private feed. But it was a badly kept secret that the Company data mined all of their client’s communications, “private” or otherwise. It only took him a moment to discover what he’d done. Apparently, while on autopilot leading Steph out of the crater, he’d comforted her. It was downright sappy. Embarrassing, even. He’d asked her about her family, and when she’d responded, still definitely in shock, he’d asked follow-up questions.

Tim was so horrified that he triggered a shutdown.

Chapter Text

When he came to, he was feeling much better. Still experiencing some existential dread, but given that these humans didn’t seem to interact with SecUnits very often, he was hoping that they didn’t think anything was out of the ordinary. Tim wasn’t keen on being harvested for scrap parts. He blinked the post-shutdown haze from his eyes, deciding to pretend that the awkward Steph rescue had never happened. Tim was great at pretending things had never happened. 

He checked his feed to see if he’d been sent any messages. To his surprise, there was a notification. An hour ago, Bruce had sent him a message asking him to come to the crew deck when he woke up. Tim pulled away from where he was plugged in, feeling a spark of pain. He checked his diagnostics clumsily as he combed a hand through his hair. At eighty percent functioning. Definitely high enough to go and see what Bruce needed. 

Tim looked forlornly at his gore-covered armor. It was lying in the corner of the cubicle, half-destroyed. Tim didn’t have time to repair it or to get another set, not if he wanted to avoid making Bruce wait any longer. If anyone found out that he was awake but hadn’t responded to Bruce’s command immediately, it would be an obvious violation of SecUnit behavior. Regardless, the security feed sent a notification to Bruce the moment that Tim disconnected from the medical unit, so there went the illusion of choice. 

He slipped on his habitat shoes and rushed out of the room, making his way through the winding hallways until he found himself at the crew deck. The soft soles of his shoes were soundless on the flooring. Tim took a steadying breath before accessing the keypad. He could feel eyes on him as the doors slid open. 

Tim kept his gaze glued to the floor as he entered, walking to stand beside where Bruce was sitting. Tim watched the humans through the cameras as they watched him. At least this way, the staring was mutual. Steph gasped, and Tim realized belatedly that he was still wearing his blood-crusted once-impaled crew shirt. Well, it was too late to go back and change now. 

“Who is this?” Dick asked, bewildered. 

Tim held his breath for a moment. Exhaled. Bruce had an interface pressed to his forehead, so even if he was the type to intervene, he was busy. Everyone else was staring at him, and Alfred was nowhere in sight. Jason stood, scowling, and left the room. 

After a too-long period of hesitation, Tim opened his mouth. Even after seeing his fluid-soaked clothing, they couldn’t connect the dots. Tim supposed that it made sense. His adjustable armor made him look much bigger than he actually was. Without it, it was hard to believe that he was a SecUnit. That is, until he revealed that he had guns in his arms. “I’m your SecUnit,” he said, voice betraying more than he’d hoped it would. He found himself once again wishing that the worm had just eaten him. Being digested in worm-y stomach bile was infinitely preferable to this. 

After a subjective half-hour and an objective 3.4 seconds, Bruce turned to Tim. “We checked our survey data, and there was never any mention of worm creatures on this planet. It looks like our fauna briefing was incomplete. Barbara couldn’t find any holes in the files, so we wanted you to comb through the data and tell us if you find anything abnormal. Our current theory is that the data has been altered.” 

Altered? That wasn’t ideal. Tim spoke before he could stop himself. “You mean sabotage?” He cursed himself internally and set a half-second delay so that he could think his words through before actually saying them. Of course Bruce meant sabotage. Not only was he Batman, but he was the leader of Gotham, one of the few non-corporate entities that held any power.

“Possibly,” Bruce answered. “It could be a tech error.” He didn’t sound convinced. 

Tim stood, feeling awkward. This conversation could have just been a feed message. It certainly would have spared misery on both ends. He started scanning the information packet in an attempt to distract him from the humans staring at him. Tim started out by checking the general warning section–while Barbara was certainly a skilled programmer, it was easy to miss the finer data points if you were a human. It was best that he start from the beginning. 

“It looks like a kid,” Dick whispered to Barb. If not for Tim’s advanced hearing, he wouldn’t have heard the observation. He winced, and the feed in his vision glitched. All Tim wanted to do was go back to his cubicle so that he could analyze the packet in peace, but Bruce hadn’t ordered him to leave yet. 

There. Something was off in the formatting. It was well-hidden, but a segment had definitely been manually deleted from the ‘hazardous fauna’ section before the packet was delivered to the team. “A large portion has been deleted from the fauna warnings.” Tim didn’t continue to say that it looked purposeful. Bruce probably knew that already. 

Steph swore. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Her words sounded rhetorical, so Tim didn’t respond. It looked like she was feeling a lot better, now, an off-white bandage wrapped around her forearm.  

“Well, then,” Bruce sighed. “We’ll investigate and proceed with utmost caution. Our visit will be over in a week, anyway, so if we’re careful, any more surprises should be manageable.” Tim resisted the urge to fidget. The thought of the mission ending made Tim uncomfortable, though he wasn’t sure why. The Wayne crew was on this planet to do a survey for a new off-planet lab for Gotham. They were looking for somewhere stable and uninhabited–both criteria that this planet used to have. It was always going to be a short mission. Tim had known that he was going to be dealing with businessman Bruce Wayne, not anti-corporate Batman. “Was the other on-planet group given the same plans?”

“Yes,” Tim answered. “The Metropolis group was scheduled to have left yesterday, though, and there were no reported difficulties. Still, if you think it’s worth checking, visiting their habitat is doable.” Tim hoped that it wasn’t worth checking.

It was clear that everyone in the room was thinking the same thing: the crew had been sabotaged by the Rogues, a floating lab that specialized in human experimentation. It was based in Gotham’s system and practically impossible to keep contained, so when Batman wasn’t taking out corporate entities, he was dealing with straight-up insane plans implemented by the Rogues. But it wasn’t exactly something that they could discuss in front of Tim. “Do you want me to…” Tim tilted his head to the door. He’d be thrilled to leave. The Waynes had a surveillance scrambler, so once Tim was gone, they could speak in private (a near-impossibility in Company facilities). 

Bruce frowned again, just as he had when he’d entered Tim’s cubicle earlier. Why did he keep making that face? “You can stay here if you want.” 

Tim’s breath caught in his throat and he nearly choked. He didn’t want to imagine the horrified look that was probably on his face right now. Tim preferred stalking from a distance. Proximity to humans was both restricted by the Company and uncomfortable. 

“Or not,” Bruce backtracked, faux calm in his voice. “Whatever you choose.”

Tim chose to leave. He knew what would make him feel better: a nice cup of coffee. Too bad he couldn’t digest human sustenance.

~~~

Leaving the Waynes came with the distinct benefit of Tim being able to breathe again. When he had retreated to his cubicle, he grabbed a blanket from the medical kit, staring woefully at his bloodied armor. It wouldn’t take much work to get it cleaned–he just had to give the command–but Tim couldn’t muster the energy. Instead, he curled up on the floor, pulling up his files on Batman.

Working with the civilian forms of Batman’s team should probably have gotten rid of the magic for Tim, so he was surprised to discover that he felt no less comforted reading through the files now than he did before he’d met Bruce. 

There was Batman, of course, the origin of it all. The billionaire ruler of Gotham who had allowed the megacity to retain its freedom despite the fact that he could buy it in a heartbeat. Instead, he used his influence to ensure that greedy corporate entities left the city alone. 

Tim recognized Bruce’s companions. There was Dick, who was the original Robin and now went by the name of Nightwing during his nocturnal activities. And Jason, the Robin who had catalyzed Tim’s decision to hack his governor module. He’d gone missing a few weeks afterward, only returning (to Tim’s knowledge) a month ago. Tim suspected that he’d been forcibly recruited into a corporate death squad, but his data had holes in it. Barbara, Steph, and Alfred were also deeply involved in Batman’s mission. 

As he skimmed through his favorite mission analyses of the Bats’ activities, he found himself separating the Waynes and their alter-egos more than was probably reasonable. He knew that they were the same people, but despite the Waynes’ general niceness, Tim had difficulty believing that they risked their lives on the regular to sabotage corporate entities. That they were willing to die to save groups of indentured miners, bound to their company for generations. That they would, even indirectly, work to help SecUnits.

Tim tried to access the cameras and audio for the room that the crew was in. For a second, he hit static and concluded that the Waynes must be using their surveillance scrambler. Then, almost immediately, his access resumed. 

“...too much,” Barbara was saying. 

“Did you see its face when Bruce said that it could stay?” Dick answered. “I was worried that it was going to be sick.”

“Can SecUnits get sick?” Jason asked. He’d returned to the room now that Tim had left. The longer that they were on the planet together, the more Tim suspected that Jason was avoiding him. The data didn’t lie. Tim chose not to think about how this fact made him feel. 

Tim rewound the camera footage to when he’d been in the room, pausing at the moment they were talking about. Oh. He had looked like he was going to be sick. Tim felt a nauseous blend of embarrassment and anxiety. SecUnits weren’t supposed to react that violently, and Bruce definitely knew that something was off with Tim by now. He had to know. Only an idiot would think otherwise, and Bruce was Batman. 

He tuned back into the conversation, fast-forwarding through what he’d missed. “Please refrain from making it uncomfortable,” Alfred was saying. “I fear that we haven’t made the best impression.”

It appeared as if they were still talking about Tim, but the information didn’t quite compute. Why would they care about the impression that they made on Tim? He was nothing more than a tool. Humans weren’t capable of believing that SecUnits, or any non-human, could possess personhood. 

Tim forced himself to disconnect from the room’s intake, gritting his teeth as he returned to his files. No. There was no way that the Waynes thought of Tim as anything but a rented robot. After all, that was what he was.

Chapter Text

“I think we should check out the Metropolis survey habitat,” Barbara was saying. “It’s their policy to leave hard copies of field logs when they leave a mission. Just in case.”

Tim already knew this, and he held his face neutral as the others agreed to Barbara’s plan. They didn’t mention that the hard drives were heavily encrypted and set to auto-clear a week after departure. There was no point–Tim was certain that Batman had the encryption key. Metropolis and Gotham were close allies, despite Lex Luthor’s sabotage attempts. It was difficult being an independent city in these times, so Gotham and Metropolis had an understanding. 

“I think that we’re all agreed,” Bruce said. “But let’s take a vote. All in favor of going?”

All of the Waynes had been gathered, even Jason. The man kept looking Tim, and it took an active effort not to return the stare. It bothered Tim to no end that his favorite Robin refused to be in the same room as him, and this was one of the few times they’d cohabited a space for an extended amount of time. 

Tim’s eyes were glued to the metallic back of Bruce’s chair as he viewed the group through the cameras. Everyone raised their hands, even Jason, though there was an annoyed expression on his face. Bruce had used the voting system many times since they’d arrived on-planet, and Tim suspected that it was his go-to solution for ensuring that everyone had a say. The Waynes weren’t exactly tranquil. “SecUnit?” Bruce asked.  

Tim fumbled for words, trying to figure out what Bruce wanted from him. He wasn’t going to vote, obviously. “The survey package is missing important data. Traveling would be ill-advised.” 

Bruce hummed thoughtfully. “We’ll take precautions. Dick, Barbara, and I can go.” 

Jason looked like he wanted to argue, but a warning look from Alfred kept him quiet. Instead, Tim was the one to speak up. “As your security, I should go, too.” Technically, the contract said that Tim should accompany crew members for any situations with a certain amount of risk, and this was well above the threshold. 

Bruce sighed. “Alright. Let’s get packed.”

An hour later, they were finishing loading the Hopper. Tim, comfortable in his armor, set down a container full of emergency medical supplies. They had a medical system in the habitat, but it wasn’t exactly transportable. As much as Tim hated the thought of leaving, he had to admit that Bruce was serious about safety precautions. He’d been with too many groups of reckless humans who thought they were invincible, and in that realm, the Waynes were like a breath of fresh air. At least in their civilian lives–Tim had seen too many instances of them taking stupid risks as vigilantes. 

Barbara wheeled into the Hopper. There was a set of powered armor stored in a side compartment of the ship, just in case she needed to walk, but she largely preferred her wheelchair. Dick filed in behind her. Tim waited for Bruce to enter, but instead, after a moment of hesitation that most humans would be unable to detect, he turned to Tim. “I think that you should remove the faceplate of your armor when we’re in the Hopper.” 

Tim’s breath caught. “Why?” The question escaped before he could filter himself. Shit. Questioning an order, even a suggestion, was not permitted by the governor module. He tried to think of a recovery. “...sir?” 

Bruce didn’t comment on Tim’s UnSecUnit-like behavior. “I think that it could be valuable for my family to get used to seeing your face, so that they can see you how I do.” It was obvious that Bruce was holding something back. 

“And how do you see me?” Tim asked. 

“I see you as the person who saved my daughter.”

Bruce’s use of the word ‘person’ made Tim’s brain short-circuit. Tim wasn’t a person–he was a machine. “But you haven’t adopted her,” Tim said, confused. Bruce didn’t question Tim’s intimate knowledge of Steph’s familial classification. Sure, Tim had helped Steph escape the pit, but that didn’t mean that Bruce owed Tim anything. Steph, while being an integral part of the Waynes, wasn’t legally part of the family. Plus, it was just Tim’s job. He was doing what he was supposed to. 

Bruce shrugged. “That doesn’t mean she isn’t my daughter.” And then he turned, entering the Hopper. 

Tim stood for a moment that probably felt much longer to him than it did to the humans. He took a deep breath. Then he removed his helmet, holding it under one arm and trying to look as robotic as possible. 

It was a short walk to the central room of the Hopper. It was a small ship–their trip would last overnight, and there would not be enough floor space for more than two people to lie down at the same time. 

Dick was waving at Tim the moment that he entered, looking like an excitable golden retriever. “SecUnit!” he called. “Sit by me.” 

Tim wanted to pretend to ignore him, but it was obvious that he’d heard Dick’s words. And Tim couldn’t disobey a direct order, not if he wanted to remain as he was. Granted, though, the longer Tim was with the Waynes, the more convinced he grew that they knew nothing about SecUnits. Bruce had told Tim upon renting him that the other members of his family, save Jason and Alfred, had never worked with a SecUnit before. Tim was sure that they’d seen SecUnits before, if not in their vigilante activities, then in serials–but they didn’t understand how SecUnits worked. Maybe that was why nobody had pointed out Tim’s odd behavior yet: ignorance. 

Tim perched gingerly on the padded seat. Bots weren’t typically allowed to use human furniture, and Tim, as a bot-human construct, was in their number. He felt tense. Awkward. With each of Dick’s fidgety movements, Tim found himself growing stiffer and stiffer. Every once in a while, Dick would glance at Tim’s face, and Tim cursed Bruce for depriving him of the comfort of having his face hidden.

It was only when the Hopper took off that Dick did what Tim had sensed he’d been wanting to. “So, SecUnit,” he said. Barbara shot him a warning look, but Dick didn’t stop. “Do you have a name?”

Tim wasn’t sure what his face looked like, but he knew it wasn’t the neutral expression that he preferred. He shook his head, at a loss for words. 

“Dick,” Barbara warned. “We discussed this.”

Tim did a search in his logs for the word SecUnit and reviewed the files for the metadata that best suited what he was looking for. There: a five-minute clip. He skimmed it for the relevant conversation, surprised to discover that Bruce had told the crew early in the mission to avoid making Tim uncomfortable. As if he believed that Tim, a construct, could have human feelings. As if it mattered. The revelation made Tim wonder if Bruce would intervene. At the front of the ship, Bruce was busy piloting, adjusting their course for maximum efficiency. Tim couldn’t distract him, not yet. 

“But it’s made with human DNA!” Dick argued. “Are we just going to pretend that we don’t know that? He’s–it’s a person!”

The Hopper was still adjusting to find an optimal flight pattern, and it was definitely too early to move around. Despite this fact, Tim stood, walking to the other side of the Hopper and taking an empty seat as far away from Dick as possible. Not far enough, given the Hopper’s diminutive size. He’d known that accepting Dick’s offer to sit had been a risky move, but he hadn’t expected a line of questioning that direct. 

Tim tuned out Dick’s indignant responses to Barbara’s lecturing, pulling up the book he’d been reading about coffee. If this assignment killed Tim, maybe he’d have the good luck to be a Keurig in his next life. But then again, Tim never had good luck. 

~~~

Tim was pulled out of his book (he’d finally reached the segment about bean origins) by the sound of someone clearing their throat. He looked up to see Dick, holding a packet of freeze-dried something. Bruce was at the front of the Hopper, a hyper-vigilant pilot. Most ‘pilots’ were happy to let the bot pilot take over, but not Bruce. There were too many factors for him to be comfortable with an autopilot, now that they were in unfamiliar territory with inadequate information. If Bruce had ever been comfortable with an autopilot taking over. 

“Are you hungry?” Dick asked. He was using that expression that he used with Jason sometimes, when they had their worst fights. Puppy dog eyes galore. It made Tim want to run away again, but there was nowhere to run, not unless he engaged the emergency hatch and jumped out of the ship. Which would be more humiliating, because Tim was certain that Bruce would retrieve him. And then Tim would have to explain why his governor module let him jump off the ship without orders to. 

Tim looked at the peace offering in horror. “SecUnits don’t eat,” he choked out. “Sorry.” There was a blueprint saved in his brain that detailed how exactly he’d have to modify himself to be capable of drinking coffee. Other than the bean juice of the gods, though, Tim had no desire to consume human food. 

Dick’s eyebrows did that thing they did when Jason shrugged him off, and Tim tried to backtrack. “Thanks, though?”

Dick grinned. “Can I sit by you again, then?” Tim felt sweat break out on the back of his neck, despite the cool interior of the Hopper. “I won’t ask personal questions,” he assured. “Scout’s honor.”

Tim opened his mouth to say that Dick was never in Space Scouts, but he found himself nodding instead. 

Dick took the empty seat next to Tim, looking like the star of a toothpaste commercial. “So, SecUnit. What have you thought of the crew so far?”

It took all of Tim’s self-control not to send Bruce a notification. The urge to have Bruce defend him each time that the crew bothered him was one that Tim didn’t want to reinforce. Bruce’s words from earlier replayed in his mind. I see you as the person who saved my daughter.

“All crew members are skilled in their respective fields,” Tim replied. He knew that it wasn’t the answer that Dick was looking for, but Tim wasn’t willing to say anything more personal. 

“Me too?” Dick asked, doing his best not to look put off by Tim’s lackluster response. All things considered, he was doing a great job. 

“Of course.” Tim didn’t want to encourage Dick, but it was true. Whether he was Nightwing or Richard Grayson, it was obvious that he was talented. 

He pretended not to see Dick’s elated expression. They moved on to talk about the survey that Gotham had sent the group to do. Tim had skimmed the proposal, but it was interesting to hear it from a more involved point of view. He gave noncommittal one-word responses as Dick talked his ear off. As Dick started telling an anecdote about Jason misplacing his favorite copy of Pride and Prejudice (in his eccentricity Jason insisted on using paper books, which were both rare and expensive), Tim realized with horror that he was enjoying listening to Dick talk. 

So, in an act of self-preservation, Tim tuned out and returned to daydreaming about coffee. 

~~~

Tim looked at the display in front of Bruce. “That’s not good. There aren’t supposed to be ships at the habitat. They should have left by now, right?”

Bruce nodded in confirmation. “There isn’t anywhere out of the way to land, not unless we want to walk for an hour through potentially hazardous territory. Should we go ahead and touch down?” 

Tim appreciated Bruce soliciting his opinion, though it probably wasn’t needed. This was Tim’s job, yes, but he had no doubt that Bruce was more competent than him when it came to high-risk situations. The riskiest scenarios that Tim was usually a part of included breaking up drunken fights between crew members, not ghost ships. “There’s not much else we can do,” he said. “Unless you want to turn around.” 

Tim wanted to turn around, but he’d made that clear when the crew had voted. If they didn’t listen to him then, they weren’t going to listen to him now. 

Bruce nodded resolutely. “Landing it is, then.”

The metal hummed as the Hopper lowered, a cloud of dust rising as they touched down. The crew waited with bated breath, and they collectively exhaled when they landed safely. Tim knew that they weren’t in the clear, not yet, but he’d been half-convinced that they’d be blown up upon arriving at Metropolis’ habitat. He knew that his paranoia could be unfounded, but this was looking weird. Tim had kept up with the bats long enough to recognize a fishy situation when he saw one. 

Bruce broke their extended silence. “I’ll go in. You all stay here.”

No way Tim was letting that happen. Tim was the security consultant. He was expendable. Bruce couldn’t just disregard that fact and waltz into danger with no backup.

Everyone in the Hopper spoke at the same time, voices raised in protest. Bruce raised a placating hand, but it took a moment for the chaos to die down. When it finally did, Tim cut in before anyone else could argue with Bruce. 

“As your security consultant, I can’t let that happen,” he said. “It’s protocol.”

Technically, Tim was stretching the rules. And the rules didn’t apply to him anymore, not since he’d hacked his governor module. But Bruce didn’t know that. If Tim had to lie to prevent Batman from being injured doing something stupid, then so be it. 

Bruce grimaced and stood with his shoulders squared. If he thought that he was going to be able to intimidate Tim into standing down, then he was sorely mistaken. But, unexpectedly, he caved without a fight. “Fine. In that case, Dick will stay behind with Barbara and help run comms.” 

Tim swallowed back an excited squeal. He was investigating with Batman while Oracle and Nightwing ran comms. The only thing that could make this better is if Robin were here. Before his elation could register externally, Tim took a deep breath and reminded himself of his policy: the separation of Bruce and Bat. The Waynes’ civilian identities had to be separated from their vigilante guises. If Tim broke that rule, things would become much more complicated for him. Tim had a contract to fill. Once that was finished, he would be rented out to someone else, and he would never see the Waynes again. This was how things were supposed to be. 

By the time he had himself under control, Bruce and Dick’s argument had been resolved in Bruce’s favor under the condition that the scouting duo share their visuals and audio. Dick took a seat by Barbara, pouting, as Tim and Bruce checked their armor and weapons. Tim shared his audiovisual data with the others, feeling oddly exposed. He was accustomed to watching others, not the other way around. 

“We’re establishing some ground rules before we go in,” Bruce said at the lowered exit ramp. Usually, Bruce avoided giving Tim direct orders, but now he was using his Batman voice. “Stay by me. If we run into trouble, retreat to the Hopper and take orders from Dick.”

Tim gave an affirmative, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. As if he’d ever leave Bruce while he was in danger. Bruce could think whatever he liked about their emergency procedures, but Tim had been designed to be abandoned in a high-danger scenario. Bruce was a squishy human, despite his combat talents. 

If anything happened, Tim would ensure that he was in the line of fire. If Bruce got so much as a scratch, then Tim would have failed his objective.

Chapter Text

Tim begrudgingly let Bruce fiddle with the habitat’s main entrance. They hadn’t gotten any response from the Metropolis group, and Tim’s sense of dread was growing. He’d really prefer it if he was the one to open the door, but SecUnits weren’t supposed to be able to hack things. It was one of the governor module’s provisions. If Tim hacked the door open, Bruce might not be able to continue ignoring Tim’s unusual behavior. 

The door slid open with a hiss of air. Tim couldn’t help reaching for the gun strapped to his back. 

“If we run into anything,” Bruce said, “nonlethal shots only.” His eyes remained glued to the black void that had opened in the habitat. 

“Yes, sir,” Tim agreed. As if he’d do anything else in front of Batman. The vigilante’s no-kill rule was well-known, and Tim hadn’t expected for Bruce’s moral code to differ. 

And then Bruce stepped into the darkness. His movement turned from tense civilian to a dark knight, and Tim couldn’t tear his eyes away. Bruce might not usually be Batman, but he most definitely was now. Their footsteps were soft on the dimly-lit flooring–the habitat must’ve activated its backup generator, because the main power source had definitely failed. The shadowed hallway felt endless. Every once in a while, the hallways lit up red, indicating that something serious in the habitat needed to be repaired. Tim was glad they’d been paranoid and worn breather masks. If any of the habitat’s internal regulators had failed, Tim had a grim mental picture of what had happened to the Metropolis group. 

That is, until he saw the first corpse. It was lying face-down in a doorway, arm reaching in the direction that they had come from. 

Tim stared down as Bruce checked the woman’s vitals. It was an exercise in futility. She was clearly dead. There were three stab wounds on her back, but no knife in sight. Blood pooled in the hollow between her shoulder blades. This killing wasn’t one of passion. It was clean. Efficient. 

Tim was beginning to suspect what had happened here, and he prayed that he was wrong. 

An unreadable expression passed Bruce’s face. “Dead,” he said in a low voice. “These appear to be living quarters. They look clear. Let’s move on.”

Tim grasped his energy weapon in his sweaty palms as they continued down the hallway, stopping to glance through each doorway. The doors were all open. It looked like they’d been jammed. The realization made Tim’s theory feel even more plausible, and he found himself jumping at shadows. There was every chance that the perpetrators were still here. 

The habitat was a mirror of their own, but in Tim’s hypervigilant state, it took him a moment to realize where Bruce was leading them: the habitat’s main room. They stepped in, and Tim froze. 

The space was filled with corpses. As Tim gathered himself, Bruce checked the room. The bodies told a story: the woman sitting in a chair by the room’s exit had been taken by surprise. The person next to her had stood up, only to have their throat slit. Then, chaos. Given the fact that Metropolis’ group hadn’t sent out so much as a distress signal, it was obvious that they hadn’t stood a chance. 

“How many researchers were in this habitat?” Tim asked.  

“Eight.” Bruce’s voice sounded flat, but Tim could hear the barely restrained rage beneath his words. 

“No survivors, then.” The observation wasn’t necessary, but Tim said it anyway. Maybe Tim had counted wrong. Maybe there was a survivor here, someone who could prove that Tim’s theory was wrong. 

“No survivors,” Bruce confirmed.  

Tim logged everything they’d observed in the note he’d pulled up on his feed. Once it was updated, Bruce had moved in to examine the third body. Tim’s chest constricted, and he felt inexplicably claustrophobic. He hadn’t been around this many dead bodies since he’d malfunctioned and wiped out a mining colony. Not that he could remember the event. 

“I’m going to secure the exit,” Tim said. He needed to get out of this room, if only for a minute. 

Bruce frowned, giving Tim a once-over. Tim tried to hide his bolstering panic. “Alright,” he permitted. “Don’t go far.” 

Tim nodded, retreating as Bruce checked the blood splatter patterns on the wall behind the corpse he’d been hunched over. Exiting the scene of the crime (though Tim supposed the entire habitat was the scene of the crime) came with instant relief. Tim was still on edge, but it was manageable. He checked the exit methodically, determining that the door had been jammed like the others in the facility. No signs of the door being broken into by force. 

A waft of chilled air tore Tim’s attention from the door, and he looked down the hallway. It was brighter here than in the other parts of the habitat. It wasn’t the dim flickering of the backup lights, either. This was natural light. Tim briefly considered telling Bruce, deciding against it in a heartbeat. He didn’t want to distract the man if it wasn’t worth investigating. If it was worth investigating, Tim could check and then get Bruce. And if it was dangerous? Well, Tim didn’t want Bruce to be put in danger, consequences be damned. He could take care of this on his own.  

He followed the draft, ignoring the climbing risk assessment that flashed in his vision. It only took a few minutes of walking for him to find the cause: a hole had been ripped in the metal, torn as if by a vicious animal. The sight made Tim falter. Entering the habitat by brute force conflicted with the careful precision of the killings, and it didn’t fit with the MO of the culprits Tim was thinking of. He stepped in front of the improvised entrance, squinting in the bright light. 

Tim reminded himself to breathe, grateful that he and Bruce had worn their enviro gear. The ground surrounding the habitat was soft dirt, almost sand-like in texture. If anyone had used this spot to enter or exit the habitat, there should be footprints. He crouched in the border between metal and earth, worrying for a moment that wind had displaced any signs of the intruders.

Until he saw a single footprint, smudged but still providing invaluable information. It was soft-soled. Medium-sized. Whoever had made the print, unless Tim was mistaken, was light on their feet. Their build would have to be ideal for stealth rather than brute strength. Tim straightened, back cracking as he did so. He’d like more information for Bruce, but if he stayed away for much longer, Tim was worried that his actions would be interpreted as contempt for Bruce’s authority. He may be slowly giving up on putting on a perfect governor module front, but he didn’t want to give the crew a reason to think too much about Tim’s behavior. 

Clang. 

Tim’s body stiffened. He hadn’t dropped anything. Bruce hadn’t announced his presence. His paranoid mind and sky-high risk assessment module supplied an answer for him: there was something behind him. 

He whirled around, a muscle in his neck pulling as he did so. There was a black blur at the corner of his vision. Relying on instinct alone, Tim raised his right arm in a block, barely intercepting a knife aimed at his torso. Blood dripped from his forearm, now a tangled mess of wires and human flesh. In front of him, dark eyes flashing, was a League of Assassins agent. 

Tim recognized the costume, and now that he’d been given proof that his far-fetched theory wasn’t crazy, he recognized that the kill patterns fit the profile as well. He’d seen the Bats go up against the League on many an occasion, so he had plenty of exposure to the way the group went about their activities. Tim would like to think that this gave him an advantage, but he knew that being familiar with the League didn’t tip the scales in physical combat. Tim was a SecUnit, not a CombatUnit. He knew that he was outclassed. 

A particularly powerful kick slammed Tim against the metal wall of the habitat, just to the left of the escape to outside. If he managed to leave that way, he may have a chance. But the idea fizzled the moment that it came to mind, overtaken by the pounding of his head. “Bruce! It’s the League! Get back to the Hopper!” Embarrassment and frustration overtook Tim as he yelled at the top of his lungs. He didn’t want Bruce to know that he’d disobeyed explicit orders, but he couldn’t just let the man be ambushed if there were more operatives in the habitat. The least Tim could do was stay here and act as a distraction when Bruce returned to the others.

A whirlwind of potential plans on how to best protect Bruce ran through his mind. Tim twisted at the last moment as the assassin punched the knife into the metal, mere centimeters from where Tim’s face had been. They left the knife in the wall, hand reappearing instantly from the midnight folds of clothing to reveal three more knives. 

Tim stumbled back, no longer cornered, and opened up the energy weapon in his undamaged arm. He knew before attempting to take aim that the target was too close, but his options were dwindling. Tim had been taken off guard, and now he was suffering the consequences of his idiocy. He’d tried to impress Batman, and now he was paying for it. God, this was humiliating. 

He saw the move before it happened, helpless to move before it hit: a tiny pulsator gun hidden in the assassin’s other hand. Tim saw a neon flash of light as it fired, and everything faded to darkness. 

I hope that I don’t survive because if I do, I’m never going to live this down.

~~~  

Tim’s awareness returned incrementally. He could feel cool metal beneath his chest. It appeared as if he’d been laid facedown on a desk of some sort. An operating table, maybe?

His machine parts hadn’t recovered yet, and the split sensory input provoked a distinct feeling of nausea. Or maybe that was just a result of his injuries. Tim tried to run a diagnostics assessment, swallowing a growl of frustration when he received an error code. It took all of his willpower not to open his eyes–he needed to gather himself before tipping hostiles off to the fact that he’d awoken. 

He kept his breathing slow and even, imitating unconsciousness. Tim felt his systems booting up, and then pain overwhelmed him all at once. He immediately turned his pain sensors down as far as they could go, but Tim couldn’t suppress the whimper that escaped his lips. He opened his eyes to a blinding white light. As he sat up, his head rammed into a light that had been angled over him. An all-permeating ache emanated from his neck. What had the League been doing? Tim was surprised he hadn’t been disassembled yet. 

A hostile in his vision drew his attention before he had any time to theorize. The figure blurred as they moved, and Tim suffered a brief moment of panic wondering if they were a meta before he realized that it was definitely just a symptom of the concussion he’d most certainly received during the fight he’d lost. 

Their arm arced over the table with deadly grace, and Tim rolled off the operating table, bringing the League operative to the ground with him. He took advantage of their surprise, ramming his energy weapon under their chin and firing. Batman may not kill, but Tim wasn’t above murder every once in a while if it was for a good cause. Escaping this place and making sure that Bruce was safe? Few causes were better than that. 

As he separated himself from the corpse, a bout of dizziness overtook him. In his disorientation, he nearly missed the assassin that was making their way toward him. Tim grimaced as he ducked, ensuring that the thrown shuriken hit his shoulder in lieu of his torso. He ripped it out, blood slicking his fingers, and returned it into their throat. The operative collapsed. 

Two more hostiles dressed in League attire appeared at the doorway. Tim was at a marked disadvantage here. The room was small, mostly taken up by the operating table and a tray of surgical equipment. He ducked behind the table, wincing as a metallic shriek indicated that a thrown weapon had hit Tim’s improvised shield instead of Tim.

He responded in kind, both shots glancing off the wall instead of hitting the intended targets. Tim cursed under his breath, poking his head over the metal to get a better view. Reliability at 50% and dropping. The notification distracted Tim, and he didn’t have time to dismiss it before he’d been tackled onto the table. 

The edges of his vision turned red and his lungs ached as the air was torn from his body. One of the operatives was on top of him, knife pressed to his jugular. Distantly, Tim heard a clang, and the person pinning him collapsed. 

Tim knew that he was hallucinating when Bruce’s face appeared in front of him. “Thank god you’re okay,” Bruce said, sounding as if he was speaking underwater. 

Reliability at 40% and dropping.

Bruce’s tone was indecipherable, and Tim found himself growing increasingly confused. “Huh?” He grunted like an idiot. 

“Can you walk?” hallucination-Bruce asked. 

Tim shook his head wordlessly. 

A warm arm wrapped around Tim’s torso, hoisting him off the bloodied table. Tim hunched, gagging over the floor as the movement made his head spin. Reliability at 35% and dropping. Something was wrong, something felt wrong and it wasn’t just the League of Assassins. Why had Tim been on that operating table?

“Come on, buddy,” Bruce said. “We’ll take care of your wounds when we’ve returned to the Hopper.” He was speaking with his dad voice, the one that he used when Dick was sad. The one that he used when Jason was scared. Yeah, no way this was real–Tim was the last person Bruce would use that voice on. Even Alfred was a more likely target. 

But Tim was in pain and everything felt wrong, so he leaned into Bruce’s hold as they limped along the blurry corridor. After an indiscernible amount of time, Bruce gave up on the whole walking thing and picked up Tim like a rag doll. Tim’s armor had been removed when he was unconscious, so Bruce carried him with ease. Each step made Tim exhale sharply, overwhelmed by pain, and Bruce’s murmured reassurances draped over Tim like silk. This was nice, actually, despite the pounding of his head and the itchiness of dried blood on his skin. Was this Tim’s death hallucination? Did constructs get those? 

Reliability at 20% and dropping. 

The red flashing in his vision snapped Tim back into his body. He was in the Hopper, but he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten back. They might be moving, but he was too out of it to tell. Alfred was next to him, medkit in hand, while the others looked on with wide eyes. 

Tim opened his mouth to speak, but nothing was computing correctly. The fiery flashes emanating from the back of his neck overtook anything he could have said, and he touched his hand to it, expecting to feel an open wound. 

Instead, his fingers graced over a hard drive. 

Disconnected images flashed across his mind: the operating table. Tim, lying on his stomach. The League agents, hesitating, almost as if they hadn’t expected Tim to fight back. Oh no. 

“Alfred,” Tim said. “You have to kill me.”

A moment of shocked silence. Reliability at 18% and dropping. Surprisingly, it was Jason who responded, sounding like he’d been force-fed garbage. “The fuck do you mean we need to kill you?”

“No, you don’t understand,” Tim pled. “They hacked me, there’s a chip in my data port. We don’t have long. The League programmed it, they’re going to make me kill Batman.” They weren’t listening. A distant part of Tim’s mind told him that he really should just shoot himself, but no, wouldn’t that confirm that he’d hacked his governor module? Nothing was making sense. “Shoot me or I’ll do it myself.”

Reliability at 15% and dropping.

And then a pair of calloused hands were reaching out for Tim. They didn’t have a chance to reach him before the energy weapon Tim had directed at his chest went off, and with it came a sense of grim satisfaction. 

Maybe his death had resulted from Tim’s stupidity, but he’d managed to get out of a hopeless situation without hurting the Bats. Wasn’t that worth something?

Chapter Text

Tim came to all at once. 

He opened his eyes before he had the chance to think about it, realizing with shock that he was somewhere familiar: the med bay of the Wayne crew’s habitat. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here. Tim let himself lag as he searched his memory banks, only to find fragmented remains of the last hour he’d been conscious. There were a few things that he knew for certain, though. Tim had disobeyed a direct order from Bruce. Then he’d been hacked by League assassins and had shot himself to prevent himself from hurting Batman. 

Wait. Batman. Tim reran the last words he’d spoken. “They hacked me, there’s a chip in my data port. We don’t have long. The League programmed it, they’re going to make me kill Batman.” Oh, shit. Tim had basically admitted to knowing that Bruce was Batman. If he was lucky, the Waynes would dismiss it as panicked rambling, but Tim was rarely lucky. Even if they didn’t follow up on the Batman comment, the odds of them ignoring his hacked governor module were below zero now. 

His heart pounded in his chest as he finally processed the rest of his surroundings. Tim wasn’t the only one in the room. Far from it, in fact. Everyone, even Jason, was lurking in the space like little parasites. 

Tim cleared his throat to get their attention, mentally preparing himself for an interrogation and for the sweet release of death that would probably come afterward. The Bats didn’t kill (apart from Jason sometimes), but Tim wasn’t human, so the rule didn’t apply to him. 

“How am I alive?” Tim asked, voice hoarse from disuse. By all accounts, he shouldn’t be. Plus, he’d run a check and the infected code had been purged from his systems. The chip was gone. That was a whole lot of effort for a mostly-dead SecUnit. What did they want from him?

“I isolated the code and removed it,” Oracle said from the corner. She was further away from Tim than the others were. “I figured it was a preferable option to just letting you die. You’re welcome.” There was something tense in her voice that Tim didn’t understand. He was glad that he was still lying down, and he simultaneously looked at the ceiling and through the room’s cameras, taking stock of everyone’s reactions. Nobody looked happy. 

“Fucking hell, kid!” Jason’s voice was raised, and Tim couldn’t hide his flinch. Kid? Either Jason had gone crazy or Tim had, because nobody in their right mind would call a SecUnit that. Jason didn’t appear to notice Tim’s confusion. “Why’d you shoot yourself? Oracle was able to fix the problem in minutes. You suicidal or something?”

Tim grimaced. It wasn’t as if he’d been in his right mind. If he had been, he probably would have been able to purge the code himself. “Why ask about that, of all things?” Tim countered. “I’m sure you have more important questions.” 

Jason shot him a look that said we’ll talk about this later. Bruce stepped forward, moving to the center of Tim’s vision. “We do,” Bruce said. He sounded like Batman after the hero rescued kidnapping victims. Soft. Careful, as if he was handling broken glass. Tim couldn’t understand why that voice was being used on him. “It’s come to our understanding that your governor module has been hacked.”

“Yep,” Tim said, popping the p. It wasn’t as if he could deny that fact after everything that had happened. He attempted to feign nonchalance, hoping it would hide the ice-cold fear running through his veins. “You gonna report me to the company?” It was a pointless question. Of course they were. 

“No. We won’t,” Bruce replied with surety. 

Tim rolled his eyes. His pulse was speeding along at a probably unhealthy pace and his throat was tight, but he wasn’t about to show the crew how scared he was. “You don’t trust me.”

Bruce frowned. “You’ve proven that you’ll protect us, even without the governor module’s reinforcement. I think that makes you more trustworthy, not less.”

Dick took a step forward and raised a hand. “I second that.”

“Neither of you have experience with Company SecUnits,” Tim countered. His eyes were burning, though he wasn’t sure why. He’d known this was coming. Why were the Waynes lying to him? Maybe they were trying to use Tim to access Company secrets, but if so, tough luck. Tim was the lowest in the company hierarchy. He didn’t know anything that could be useful to Batman. “Jason gets it.”

And then Jason’s fiery gaze was on Tim. “Fuck you,” he said, voice tight. “I’m going to watch this conversation from the main hub instead. I’m done here.” Then he turned and left the room, leaving silence in his wake.

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll talk to him later. So, Tim,” he continued, and Tim blanched. 

“What did you just call me?” Tim interrupted. His vision was tunneling. To have something so personal revealed as if it were nothing–

Barbara cleared her throat as Bruce fumbled for an answer, responding in his place. “I saw it when I was clearing the infected code from your system. It’s your name, isn’t it?”

Tim scowled. “That was private.” Sure, Tim’s hobby was stalking the very people he was accusing of violating his privacy, but Tim was a SecUnit. His day job was to stalk people, too, combing through the crew’s data and sending any relevant pieces back to the Company so that they could use it as they saw fit. Boundaries like that didn’t apply to him. 

“And I’m assuming the huge files of encrypted information about Batman’s operations were private, too?” Barbara challenged, as if she’d read Tim’s mind.  

“That is a problem,” Bruce interjected. “Tell me, are you aware of Batman’s civilian identity?”

Tim knew that it was a trick question–he’d already unwittingly admitted to knowing that Bruce was Batman. But he lied regardless. “No, of course not.”

The other people in the room made meaningful eye contact, and Tim hoped that they wouldn’t challenge his denial. Unfortunately, it was just wishful thinking. 

“If I may, Master Tim,” Alfred said. “But for the safety of yourself and this crew, I would recommend that you do not lie.”

Master Tim. That was an unexpected term of address. Tim was so dumbfounded by it that he spoke without thinking. “Fine. I do. But I’d never tell anyone.”

“What if your systems are accessed against your will?” Bruce asked, a concerned expression crossing his face. 

Tim sat up. Looked at Bruce. “The files have remained intact, and the Company hasn’t caught on despite having performed a memory wipe on me a year ago. I have taken every precaution that this information remains inaccessible to anyone but me. Oracle wasn’t able to access it, and she’s arguably the most talented hacker of her generation.”

Barbara nodded. “He’s right.”

“Plus,” Tim continued, “You all just saw the lengths I’m willing to go to in order to prevent harm from coming to any of the Bats.” Using his shooting himself as an argument felt manipulative, but Tim was willing to do pretty much anything to avoid becoming scrap metal. He still hadn’t tasted coffee yet, and he didn’t want to leave this mortal plane before savoring nature’s nectar. 

“Tim has a point,” Dick said. “By the way, I can call you Tim, right? Unless you’d rather–”

“Tim is fine,” Tim interrupted. The crew using the name he’d chosen for himself certainly felt invasive, but what was he going to do? Force them to call him SecUnit instead? 

“I’m leaving,” Tim said, hiding the shakiness of his legs as he stood from the operating table. “We can continue this conversation later. If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my cubicle.”

He left without looking at the Bats, trying to communicate an aura of you-couldn’t-stop-me-if-you-tried. He was too overwhelmed to defend himself right now, still half in shock at realizing that the League of Assassins attack hadn’t killed him. 

As he left the room, he heard Dick’s voice. “Wait. Memory wipe?”

~~~

It was a few hours when Tim had mostly calmed down that the Waynes finally made contact with him. He received a flurry of messages all at once. 

Steph sent a long apologetic message explaining why she hadn’t spoken up on Tim’s behalf (shock, apparently) and insisting that she “really really wanted to be friends!” Tim’s first impulse was to leave her on read, but he felt a stab of guilt at the thought and responded with a bewildered thumbs up instead. He didn’t understand her motivations, but alienating a potential ally would be stupid. 

Dick sent a short message (“are you okay?”) followed by a series of increasingly out-of-context gifs. Tim ignored it. He didn’t want to reinforce Dick’s poor behavior and give off the message that pestering Tim was okay. At this point, Tim had mostly accepted the fact that Bruce wasn’t planning on shutting Tim down permanently. If the Waynes grew upset and sent Tim back to the Company because of it, then not much would have changed. After all, Tim would’ve ended up back at the Company regardless. 

Jason’s message was simple: “We need to talk.” The capital letter felt like a bad omen. Tim stared at the words in his feed, trying to decipher it. Ugh. Tim replied with “okay.” If Jason really wanted to talk (about what, Tim had no idea), then he could plan and initiate the discussion himself. The idea of having a one-on-one discussion with Jason, who was indubitably Tim’s favorite Robin, was more intimidating than he cared to admit. 

As his message was sent, a notification from Bruce appeared in his feed, calling him to the habitat’s central hub. Tim’s first reaction was to drag his feet, but habit won over and he obeyed with a sigh. So much for teenage rebellion. 

By the time Tim got to the crew, he’d worked himself into a ball of anxiety. They knew that Tim had some semblance of free will now. He really had no idea how they were going to interact with him. Should Tim act as he had before, when he’d feigned perfect SecUnit behavior? Or should he externalize his thoughts and impulses? Which would the Waynes prefer?

Dick waved cheerfully when Tim entered the room. It looked like the other crew members were already there. Tim could see Steph trying to make eye contact (he had accessed visuals through the cameras–he wasn’t mentally prepared to be looking at people right now), and she waved him over, patting the seat next to her. 

Tim complied with more relish than he’d expected. SecUnits usually weren’t allowed to use furniture, and he’d sat on chairs, but never a couch before. “We’re gonna talk about the League,” Steph mock-whispered, loudly enough that everyone in the room could definitely hear her. “We’re still waiting on Jason.”

Tim had been half-convinced that this meeting had been called to conduct one of the Wayne crew votes: should we turn the rogue SecUnit into scrap metal? Steph’s clarification immediately put him at ease. At least, as at ease as he could get. 

Jason entered the space like a stormcloud. He always had a strong presence–it was one of the things that made him Tim’s favorite Robin–and he certainly knew how to use it for evil. The mood darkened considerably as Jason leaned against the wall in a corner of the room. 

“Now that everyone’s here,” Bruce said, voice projecting, “Let’s go over what we know so far.”

“The League wiped out a Metropolis research group while they were in their habitat. No distress signals were sent out. We arrived shortly after the event. A few of the League operatives were still in the habitat, and when they saw Tim, they tried to input malicious code to override his self-determination.” Bruce sighed, and Tim noticed how dark the circles beneath his eyes were. Bruce, a perpetual insomniac if the habitat footage wasn’t misleading, looked even more tired than usual. “The question is: why?”

“As far as why they tried to hack Tim…Ra’s knows your identity, right?” Barbara said. “Maybe he knew that we were on planet and instructed the assassins not to engage with us but to take the opportunity if they saw one.” She frowned pensively. “There was a dead SecUnit in the habitat, right?”

Bruce nodded in confirmation and Tim did a double-take. He hadn’t noticed a SecUnit’s body on site. Maybe he’d been too distracted by the thought of working with Batman. Regardless, the thought was concerning. Tim was supposed to be observant–if he wasn’t, what was he good for? 

“Given that they had access to such specific code, I’d assume that they initially meant to infect that SecUnit but something went wrong and it died instead,” Barbara continued. “It would make sense if their involving Tim was opportunistic. They probably meant to frame him for the killings while hoping that he hurt one of us. Two birds with one stone.”

“But why kill the Metropolis group in the first place?” Dick asked.

“Greed.”

Everyone turned to look at Jason. He took a step away from the wall, arms crossed. “That’s how it works in the corporate world. The League may claim to be different from the other corporates, but that’s bullshit. They wanted something.” Jason gave a bitter laugh. “Maybe the Metropolis group found something that Ra’s wanted.”

“But why would they kill the Metropolis group and not us?” Steph questioned. “We’re on the planet too. What if we found what they want?”

Barbara hummed. “We’re here because we’re checking to see if this would be a good location for an off-planet lab for Gotham, right? I haven’t looked in-depth, but Metropolis was here for research purposes. They were here to collect samples from the planet for a project they were doing. Our purposes for being here are very different from theirs. Plus, it makes sense that the League would be hesitant to deal with us.”

“Alright, then,” Bruce said. “I think we have some good theories. Barbara, could you lead a few people and take a closer look at Metropolis’ documents? I’ll contact Clark and see if he knows anything.” 

Tim perked up at the mention of another Justice League member. Though he wasn’t a Superman devotee, the reinforcement that Bruce was Batman left him momentarily starstruck.

Bruce indicated that the meeting was done by turning back to his work. Tim hurried out, wanting to be the first person to leave the room. But as he moved to head through the doorway, he found a bulky figure blocking it. Jason gave Tim a once-over. “Follow me,” he said through gritted teeth. “We’re going to have that talk now.”

Chapter Text

Tim followed Jason like a man going to the gallows. Jason walked briskly, broad shoulders casting a shadow over Tim. He wished he was wearing his armor–without it, he felt so small in comparison to Jason. 

They stepped into a room that, judging by the books lying around, was Jason’s. Tim was a bit surprised–given Jason’s avoidance of him, he wouldn’t have expected the man to allow Tim to enter his living quarters.  

Jason stopped. Turned around. Tim took a steadying breath, successfully masking his flinch. 

“You’re going to be honest with me,” Jason said. “Because it’s in both of our interests.”

In lieu of responding, Tim watched Jason warily. The taller man’s shadow cast over Tim’s face. Despite Tim’s affection for Jason’s Robin, he couldn’t help but feel intimidated. He supposed that was probably the point. 

“We both know that there’s no way you don’t have alternative motivations for being here,” Jason continued. “Look, I know how it is in the Company. But we’ve got power, too. Whoever set you up here doesn’t care about you. All that matters to them is profit. If you abandon your mission, we can protect you.”

It took a moment for the meaning of Jason’s words to process. Tim supposed that it was a reasonable hypothesis, though in the moment the theory felt absurd. “And why should I believe that you’d do that?” He asked, deciding against protestation. “You’ve been involved with the Company, so you know how this works. SecUnits aren’t worth protecting.”

“Fine, then,” Jason growled. “We can do this the hard way.”

Wide palms planted on Tim’s shoulders and pushed him down into a padded chair before he had the chance to respond. Had it been anyone but Jason trying to touch Tim he would’ve acted on instinct, but as it was, he sat stunned where he’d been placed. Jason put his hands on his hips, making Tim feel even smaller in comparison. 

“Who hacked your governor module for you? Are they controlling you right now?” Jason’s hands twitched and Tim recognized the desire to hold a weapon. It was as familiar to Tim as his books on coffee were. “Look, you don’t want to mess with the Waynes. You may think that you know everything about them, that they’re merciful. But I won’t hesitate to kill you if I think you’re a genuine threat.”

Tim wanted to look away, but Jason’s gaze kept his in a vise-like hold. “Would you believe me if I said I’m not being controlled by anyone? If I told you that I don’t have any motives?”

Jason leveled a disbelieving look on Tim. 

Tim met it with a shrug. “Then what’s the point of this conversation? I’m not going to make up some conspiracy just so that you can feel like your paranoia is justified.” Frankly, Jason’s paranoia was justified. Tim would have done the exact same thing were he in Jason’s position. But he wasn’t, so he couldn’t help the prick of frustration at the accusations. 

A faraway hiss of air indicated that a member of the crew entered a room adjacent to Jason’s. If Tim remembered correctly (which he always did), the habitat schematics indicated that Dick’s room was nearby. Jason spoke again, voice lowered. “I know what happened in that mining colony,” he said, and Tim felt a chill. This was not a topic that he enjoyed talking about. “You killed dozens of people. Sure, I’ve killed too, but I own up to it. I can’t trust people who refuse to take responsibility.” 

It was a low blow, bringing this up, and Tim felt himself losing control over his emotions. When he spoke, his voice was suffused with an icy anger. “That fiasco was one of the main reasons I hacked my governor module,” he hissed. “After I did, I was able to look into the event, and you know what?” Tim didn’t wait for Jason to answer the prompt. “The bloodbath was far from voluntary, trust me. All of the SecUnits in the colony were hacked, not just me. And because of the governor modules, we weren’t allowed to resist the invasive code. I was just the only SecUnit who wasn’t scrapped in the aftermath. I’m allowed to be a survivor, too.” When the stream of words ceased, Tim’s chest was heaving. 

He felt like something vital had been exposed. He felt ill. If he took responsibility for the colony’s destruction, as Jason said he should, Tim wasn’t sure he could go on living. Not with the weight of those people’s lives burdening him. All he could do was blame the Company. He couldn’t even take action against the corporates as the Bats did–Tim was utterly powerless, a broken puppet of the capitalist machine.

“Is that why you freaked out and shot yourself when the League hacked you?” Jason asked, quiet-voiced. “You were afraid of not being in control?”

Tim knew that Jason had a right to ask this question. He knew that Jason, too, had suffered at the hands of the corporates. During Robin’s disappearance, in which he’d been forcibly inducted into a corporate death squad to pay off his late mother’s debts, he had been nonconsensually installed with implants. While the implants didn’t have even close to the amount of power over a person that a governor module did, it was an effective way of controlling humans. If anyone in this habitat could possibly understand Tim, it was Jason. 

But instead of acknowledging this, Tim stood, refusing to look at Jason. “You’re really going to accuse me of being some sort of spy and then try to psychoanalyze me? Thanks, but no.” Tim no longer tried to keep his voice quiet. He didn’t care anymore.

He stomped over to the exit, metal door sliding open when it sensed his approach. Then he strode past a confused-looking Dick, frozen with his fist raised to knock. 

Tim ignored Dick’s questioning look. He needed to go calm down before he killed Jason (as if he could, as if he actually wanted to), and that entailed a few people-free hours of reading about coffee.

~~~

A while later, not quite long enough to have gotten over Jason’s accusations, Tim got a message from Bruce calling him to return to the crew’s central hub. Alone. For a private meeting.

Well, that didn’t bode well. It felt like all that Tim had been doing lately was receiving messages and talking to the crew. Toward the beginning of the expedition, they had all seemed happy enough with leaving Tim alone. He wished that they could return to that dynamic. As much as he (embarrassingly) idolized the Bats, there was a difference between watching from afar and being up close and personal with their civilian identities. 

He made the too-familiar walk to the hub, dragging his feet as much as he could. Being at everyone’s beck and call, even without his governor module functioning, was an unpleasant reminder that he was other . A piece of equipment. If the crew didn’t try to imply that Tim was also a member of the crew (which was factually untrue), it wouldn’t bother him so much. But as it was, the Wayne’s words weren’t lining up with their treatment of Tim. At least Jason was honest. 

Bruce was in the room alone, wearing a black turtleneck instead of the standard crew attire. 

“Ah, you’re here.” Bruce was clearly stating the obvious as he tried to figure out how to act around a free-willed SecUnit, but Tim wasn’t going to call him out on it. 

That didn’t mean that he had to respond, though, so Tim remained silent. 

“I’m employing the surveillance scrambler, so you don’t have to censor yourself,” Bruce continued. “Alfred told me that we needed to clear the air, and I agree. Sit down.” He patted a cushy-looking seat across from him. 

Tim took it warily, staring at the faded grey fabric of his habitat shoes. He wasn’t sure what to expect from this, but given the content of Jason’s “talk,” Tim wasn’t expecting anything good. 

“Before we talk, I just wanted to let you know that Barbara looked through some of your files when we were isolating the corrupted code from your system. Not the Batman ones–those were too heavily encrypted–but the more basic contents. Daily logs, your coffee ebooks, those kinds of things.” Then, upon seeing Tim’s scowl deepen: “Given our identities, you understand why we would be careful in a scenario like this.”

“Fine,” Tim admitted. “I get it.”

He wanted to watch Bruce through the room’s cameras, but the surveillance scrambler made the display all fuzzy. The visuals were already giving Tim a headache after just a few seconds, so he gave up and resumed staring at his shoes. 

“What are you planning on doing after this mission?” Bruce asked, voice softening. “It looks like your governor module has been hacked for a while, now. Were you just going to go back to the Company?”

Tim shrugged. “It’s not like I have many other options.” He wasn’t a Wayne. He didn’t have any power, nor any money. Tim was the Company’s property, and just because they hadn’t scrapped him yet didn’t mean that they’d look the other way if he went missing. Even if Tim did try to escape, what would he do? Find an abandoned lab somewhere and finally apply those modifications to himself that would make his systems compatible with coffee? It was great in theory, but in practice? Not one of Tim’s best ideas. 

Bruce inhaled. Exhaled. The room was still. Then, in a tone that indicated life-or-death levels of seriousness, he spoke. “Come back to Gotham with us.”

A bout of hysterics bubbled up in Tim’s throat and he swallowed it back. “You’re joking.” But Bruce didn’t joke, not unless it was a god-awful pun made in order to annoy his children. 

“I’m not.”

It didn’t make sense. Why would Tim follow the Waynes to Gotham? “...Do you need something from me?”

Bruce shrugged. “If my saying so will make you feel better, yes. You’ve proven to be an effective security consultant–we could use your skills. As a paid contractor, of course.”

“As a civilian,” Tim realized, an unfamiliar falling feeling in his chest. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but the Company owns me.”

“That is a fixable problem.” Bruce didn’t have the courtesy to feign bashfulness at the implication that buying Tim was as simple as flashing his bank card. “I am perfectly capable of making an offer that the company can’t say no to.”

Logically, Tim should be thrilled. If he accepted that Bruce actually wanted to buy him (which he didn’t), then that meant a new life. Sure, he’d just be transferred from one owner to another, but Tim wouldn’t lie to himself and say that living in Gotham would be worse than the Company. Few things were worse than the Company. 

Then why were Bruce’s words echoing in his ears? Why was Tim’s throat tightening up? Why did he feel the overwhelming urge to run away?

“I’ll think about it,” he said, feeling distant. “Can I leave now?”

Chapter Text

Tim couldn’t get Bruce’s offer out of his head. He had tried and failed for an hour to distract himself, but not even the concept of coffee could prevent the scene from replaying ad nauseam. He hated feeling like this. Like an object. Technically, that’s what he was. Legally, at least. But the idea that Tim’s biggest problem could be solved by a simple monetary transaction was an unpleasant one. Why had Bruce made such a suggestion in the first place? He was perfectly capable of running Gotham’s security himself, and the city had just as many heroes as it did villains. Tim wasn’t needed. 

He turned the conundrum around in his mind. Then, it struck him. 

Bruce was impulsive. He hadn’t thought this through before calling Tim over. It made sense. The man had reacted to trauma by dressing up as a bat and using fancy gadgets to fight evil, and along the way he’d adopted a battalion of unruly vigilante children. Sure, things had more or less worked out for them (with the possible exception of Jason), but Tim was different. Inhuman. Not that he was under any illusions that Bruce would ever adopt him. 

Now that Tim understood what was going on, the situation felt much more manageable. If Bruce had made his decision so quickly, he could change his mind just as rapidly. Tim would go back to the Company, and nothing would change. It was reassuring, Tim thought as something in his chest sunk. If there’s nothing to hope for, then there’s nothing to be disappointed over.

A notification flashed across Tim’s vision, drawing him from his realization. It was from Barbara, sent to the entire crew. “Come to the lab ASAP,” it read. Tim cringed at the thought of seeing Bruce and Jason so soon after their uncomfortable conversations. But an order was an order, and Tim didn’t want to annoy the crew–now that they knew he’d hacked his governor module, they had absolute power over him. All it would take was a word to the company, and Tim would lose his free will. 

So he complied immediately. He was the second to arrive at the lab, after Dick. Barbara sat in front of a large computer, eyes steely, watching the door. Dick stood next to her, reading something on the screen. The cold-hued light made him look inexplicably different than he usually did. An expression of surprise crossed Barbara’s face at seeing Tim, but it disappeared in an instant as he retreated to stand in the back corner of the room. Once again, he found that he was unable to access the room’s cameras. The surveillance scrambler must be running again. 

Dick straightened, shooting Tim a blinding smile. “Hey Tim!” He greeted, and Tim nodded in acknowledgment. It looked like Dick was going to speak again, but a crowd of people entering the room interrupted him. Bruce was glowering and Tim would bet his Batman files that the man already knew what Barbara was going to tell them.

Alfred entered last, closing the doors. Jason hovered by the door’s control panel, and Tim could’ve sworn that he was shooting glances in Tim’s direction…but Tim didn’t sense any malice coming from Jason. His usual disdain seemed to have been replaced by something almost like concern. There was no way–Tim must be misreading the situation. 

Barbara faltered, looking at Bruce, who nodded. “Everyone,” she said, voice solemn. “I discovered what Metropolis found. What caused the League of Assassins to wipe out the Metropolis crew.” She inhaled, and the room hovered on the precipice of chaos. “There is a Lazarus pit on this planet.”

The crew erupted into noise. Tim’s mind whirled. A Lazarus pit? Here? Tim had thought that there was only one in existence. The fact that such a location was not a one-time occurrence had horrifying implications. 

“What are we going to do about it?” Jason’s voice cut through the confusion, and everyone quieted.

Bruce replied instead of Barbara. “I already contacted Superman and Wonder Woman about it. They’re convening with Metropolis’ leading legal experts to figure out how I can purchase this planet so that nobody will have access to the pit.” He sighed, looking older than Tim had ever seen him. “But before that, we need to check it out for ourselves. There’s always a chance that League of Assassins agents are lingering near it, and we need to ensure that the planet is cleared of them in order to fix this problem.”

“As civilians?” Steph asked. “Or…” She glanced at Tim.

“Using our vigilante identities,” Bruce stated. “If Tim decides to come with us, we will figure out a disguise for him.”

If…Tim wanted to come? Was this an invitation? Tim had expected to be an onlooker at most, memory forcibly wiped by Oracle the moment that the action ended. But the leader of the Bats was extending an open invite for him to join their operation? It didn’t make sense. 

The quiet remained, and Tim realized that they were waiting for him to state his decision. “Um. Okay.” His heart rate sped up as he registered what he’d said. He hadn’t meant to agree so quickly. It felt like participating in this mission would tie him to the Waynes, somehow. He couldn’t afford to get attached, not when he was certain that Bruce would go back on his offer. But the opportunity to work with the Bats, a group that had been Tim’s one bright light, was impossible to pass up. It’s not like getting attached would matter, right? Tim doubted he would remember any of this when Bruce returned him to the company–the risk was too high.  

“But you all don’t know me,” Tim said. “How can you trust me to watch your backs?” It was a cynical statement, but a necessary one. Tim had spent enough time stalking the Bats to know that trust was vital to an operation. Sure, the group argued plenty, but at the core of it all, they trusted each other with their lives. 

His question brought an awkward silence. Shockingly, it was Jason who answered. “I trust you enough to give you a minor role,” he said. “Does everyone else?” 

A series of affirmatives chorused. An enthusiastic yes from Dick, a solemn nod from Alfred. Everything felt surreal. 

“Oh,” Tim replied. Had anyone said what Jason had, Tim wouldn’t have believed them. But Jason didn’t like Tim. He had absolutely no reason to lie to make Tim feel better. 

“Barbara and I accessed Metropolis’ terrain scans and found the location,” Bruce stated. Barbara pulled up a map on the computer. The display was large enough that even Tim, from the back of the room, could see the labels on it. The SecUnit-enhanced vision didn’t hurt, either. “It’s underground. We are going to approach this as a stealth mission. It’s impossible to know what’s down there. We will infiltrate, and if the enemy outnumbers us, we will retreat. Preferably unseen. Use of lethal force,” Bruce looked between Tim and Jason, “is prohibited.”

Jason cursed under his breath, and Tim rolled his eyes. If any member of the crew was in danger, Tim wouldn’t hesitate. Their safety took precedence over Bruce’s moral code. Jason said that he trusted Tim, and he wasn’t going to prove that trust as misguided.  

Bruce continued going over their infiltration plan, and Tim watched keenly. He didn’t understand why he was being involved in this, wasn’t sure he deserved to be, but he wasn’t going to let the Bats down. 

~~~

Seeing the Bats in costume was surreal. Tim was starstruck, and it was difficult to hide. Every time he caught the sight of Batman’s cowl, he couldn’t help himself from breaking out into a smile. Luckily, his face was hidden, so the others couldn’t see. Tim felt stupid, like a child. He was grateful that Jason didn’t use the old Robin costume anymore. If he had, then Tim definitely wouldn’t be able to hide his excitement. 

Initially, Barbara had suggested that the group wear all black to blend in better. But ultimately, the Bats had decided that their reputations would work in their favor. Low-level League assassins might just retreat and spare them the trouble of fighting. Their goal was to clear the area as efficiently as possible, not to remain anonymous. 

The Hopper was nearing the site, and Tim fidgeted with the long sleeves of his shirt. They’d adjusted one of Jason’s extra costumes, one in all black, to fit Tim. Seeing how big it had originally been on him was embarrassing, but being able to work with the Bats was worth it.

Tim just hoped that he would be able to prove his reliability to them. Not in hopes of remaining with the Waynes–that was a ridiculous desire–but to give back even a fraction of what they’d given him. Their heroism, their striving against the corporations, had given Tim a reason to go on living, if only to watch their exploits. 

He was ready to fight for them.

Chapter Text

The terrain outside of the Hopper was unremarkable. It looked like a majority of the planet did: vaguely orange-colored and unpleasant. But here, rather than the ground being sand, it was a red-hued stone that reminded Tim of pumice. He wasn’t a geologist, so he wasn’t certain–nor did he care enough to look it up. The connectivity here was far from ideal. At least there weren’t any worms around. Tim wasn’t looking to be impaled again unless absolutely necessary. 

Not far from where the Hopper had landed, a dark crevasse loomed in the stone like a bad omen. It was the entrance to the Lazarus Pit. Barbara had shown them low-resolution pictures of the area during the planning phase of the mission. Tim knew that familiarity with the terrain would lose its helpfulness the moment that they entered the cave. Unless they planned to send in a drone and alert the League to their presence, the crew would have to go in blind. 

“Everyone, remember to stick to your assigned role,” Batman warned. The cowl hid his expression, though Tim doubted that it would show much. Bruce had a great poker face. 

Tim had been delegated to the middle position in the group. Ideally, Tim would head in first, utilizing his enhanced senses and disposableness to scout the area. However, the crew had seemed unhappy when he suggested this. Probably because they didn’t trust him. Which…fair. So Tim was stuck in a well-protected and ultimately irrelevant position while Bruce took the front and Jason watched everyone’s backs. Since this was primarily a stealth mission, they’d decided that Dick and Steph would stay behind with the others in case the Gotham habitat was attacked like Metropolis’ was. 

Batman stopped by the opening. Tim closed his eyes, concentrating on his surroundings before sending Bruce a message through their encrypted comms: I don’t hear anything . Batman nodded, disappearing into the darkness. Tim followed. 

He was used to this, to high-stress situations. After all, Tim was a SecUnit. While he usually dealt with interpersonal conflicts on company-contracted colonies, he’d dealt with many an emergency, often involving copious amount of blood. But this time felt different. If Tim failed to protect the Waynes, he would be personally responsible for the extermination of one of the most impactful anti-corporate entities since the Justice League. 

The realization made Tim want to reopen his encylopedic tome on coffee to destress, but he resisted the urge. Instead, he trailed behind Bruce, impressed at how silent the humans were being, even in comparison to a SecUnit. 

After a few minutes of walking, the narrow pathway opened up into a high-ceilinged cavern. The stone had gone from red to grey. Tim wondered if it had anything to do with the chemical properties of the Lazarus Pit–while he was no supervillain, he would give nearly anything to test the water. He’d been itching to figure out how the Lazarus Pits worked since he’d first found out about them through his definitely-not-stalking of the Bats. If Lazarus Pit water was used to make coffee, Tim wondered, would it develop additional properties?

But now wasn’t the time for that. Instead, it was time to disarm a lone assassin who was attempting to get a sneak hit at Batman through a concealed spot in the wall. The assassin didn’t know what hit her, crumpling to the ground before she had the chance to notify any others. 

If this really was a League base , Tim messaged in the group’s secured link, it isn’t in use anymore . He knew what an active League base looked like, and it wasn’t this. Which was especially strange given the fact that a Lazarus pit was in the vicinity. The League assassins gathered around these kinds of spots like mice to cheese. If they were absent, something must have gone wrong. 

The others sent acknowledgments, seeming reasonably wary. As they traveled ever deeper, the strench of earth morphed into that of rot. Tim wanted to adjust his olfactory sensors, but refrained. Cutting off any of his senses in a situation in which awareness was so vital could be a major handicap, and he didn’t want to make any stupid mistakes. The others were obviously bothered, too. Jason in particular seemed unhappy, shoulders tense and occasionally adjusting his mark, probably to get some fresh air.

The pockmarked walls turned smooth and the ceiling lowered the further down they went. From the obvious slope, Tim didn’t have to check specs to tell that they were deep underground now. 

We’re getting closer, Bruce said in the comms. Stay on high alert.

Didn’t need to tell Tim twice. His systems were in overdrive right now. He looked at the upper right hand side of his vision. Reliability at 75% and dropping . Something about this place was putting him on edge, enough that his performance was suffering a loss because of it. Though he retained no memories of the event, he suspected that something within him connected this place with the mining colony disaster that had catalyzed his memory wipe. A sort of muscle memory, perhaps, triggered by being underground for the first time in years.

Though the air grew warmer the deeper they got, Tim shivered.

Right at the moment that a creature with glowing green eyes appeared out of the darkness and grabbed Bruce by the neck.

It was hulking, easily a head taller than Jason. Much taller than Tim. Upon further examination, he realized that it wasn’t a creature. No, this was all too similar to Tim’s monitoring of Jason soon after he reappeared from his deadly encounter with Joker.

This man was suffering from pit madness.

Bruce reacted quickly with a kick to the man’s neck, but his grip didn’t budge. Only when Jason shot his energy weapon at its hand, illuminating the walkway in a cold blue light, did he release him. Bruce hit the ground in a roll, then brought the man’s feet out from under him in a low sweep kick. He fell, head knocking into the wall and leaving behind a bloody smear. But it wasn’t enough to stop him. 

He took hold of Bruce’s leg with a broad-knuckled grip, one hand at his thigh and one just below his knee. Then, before Bruce had the chance to pull away, he yanked in opposite directions. With Tim’s enhanced hearing, it wasn’t difficult to hear the snap. Definitely dislocated, maybe broken. Bruce buckled, grabbing the man’s neck and grappling him in a show of brute strength. 

Tim held his arm out, aiming at the man’s chest with his energy weapon. But Jason got to it first with a flash of light and the smell of burnt flesh mingling with the already-disgusting scent of rot. Tasty.

Bruce got to his feet, favoring one leg. All things considered, he was hiding the injury quite well. From Tim’s monitoring of Jason’s frenzied heartbeat, he doubted that the other man had the presence of mind to notice Bruce’s injury. And Bruce certainly wasn’t going to say anything about it.

Tim considered his options. He could point it out, team up with Jason to force Bruce into the rear instead of the front. Better yet, out of the base back into the Hopper. Or he could say nothing and avoid defying Bruce’s authority. 

The assassins made the choice for Tim. There were three more, dressed in League attire. All with glowing green eyes. Tim took a deep breath, assessing the newcomers. They were smaller than the first attacker, armed with katanas that emitted a faint white glow. Infused with electricity, probably. You didn’t see those on the field often–the risk of electrocuting yourself outweighed the benefits against an opponent. That sort of limitation likely didn’t apply to pit-mad assassins, though. From the little Tim knew of the condition, he doubted that they could feel pain. At least, not enough to inhibit them.

Pit-mad soldiers. Felt a bit sacrilegious to Tim. Wasn’t use of the pit supposed to be reserved only for those Ra’s deemed worthy? 

Jason tossed Tim an escrima stick. He didn’t have time to examine the gesture from any lens other than that of practicality: in such close quarters, the risk of accidentally hitting an ally with an energy weapon was far too high. 

Then the hallway erupted into chaos. Tim defended against a blow, skin tingling as an energized katana missed him by a few centimeters. He blocked a second swing with a stick, then kneed the assassin in the groin. He wasn’t against low-brow techniques. Unfortunately, it didn’t have the effect that it would on most people–his opponent didn’t so much as flinch. He barely managed to dick in time as the assassin retaliated with a swipe at his head. 

They seemed to be at a temporary impasse. The pit craze kept the assassin from reaching his pain limit, and Tim’s SecUnit-ness allowed him to temporarily ignore his limits. Key word being temporarily. Tim could feel his energy flagging already. At least he had an excuse. In his day-to-day life, he didn’t need to maintain this sort of drawn-out fight.

He hazarded a glimpse at the others. Bruce wasn’t faring as well as Tim would usually expect. The knee injury was likely holding him back, making it difficult to fight. Jason was worse: he was fighting with the same savagery as the assassins, and Tim knew that if he could see under Jason’s helmet, he would see green.

Then Jason pulled out his energy weapon. 

Tim sent a panicked message in their comm link. Jason, stop, you’re gonna hit one of us–  

He was cut off as a katana sliced into his shoulder. The organic portion of his shoulder, almost exactly where skin met metal. He dropped the escrima stick as his arm spasmed, staticky pain distracting him from the Jason issue. A series of bright red warnings flickered in his vision, which was super helpful considering that Tim still needed to see his opponent in order to dodge them. 

Miraculously, despite his field of vision being lit up like a holo deck, he was able to shove the assassin away, successfully wrenching the blade from his shoulder. It left aftershocks of electricity, and Tim realized in horror that he’d been disarmed. He formed a rudimentary strategy in the time it took the assassin to step back. 

The escrima stick was a lost cause. He doubted he could easily spot it in this dim lighting, even with his enhanced vision, and grabbing it without taking another hit was a whole other issue. But he did have a small energy weapon in his still-functioning arm. He might get injured in the process, and he’d probably end up killing his opponent and make Bruce hate him enough to give him back to the company…

But if he risked it, he could get close enough to them to shoot point-blank. 

Tim stepped forward as the crack of an energy weapon being activated echoed in the tunnel. And it wasn’t his weapon. He blinked at the wound in the assassin’s forehead as they collapsed to their knees, then to their side. 

“Get to B!” Jason yelled, voice metallic as it echoed off his helmet. Tim balked at the spoken words. He’d expected them to only communicate via secure comms, but he supposed that sort of thing came less naturally to Jason, despite the man’s enhancements. “He’s further back.”

In the time it took for Tim to get stabbed and Jason to kill their two assailants, Bruce had disappeared past the corner. Tim held his injured arm with his good hand, trying to ignore the residual shocks as he jogged past the corner and into a massive cavern.

Tim froze. This was where the smell of rot had been coming from. By his feet was the assassin who had been attacking Bruce, out cold. Across the room lay a much larger pile of bodies. All dead, judging by the stench. And the pools of blood surrounding it, of course.

The center of the room held a steaming pond filled with something that looked more like toxic waste than water. The Lazarus Pit. Bruce stood motionless in front of it, and for a moment, Tim assumed that he was assessing the area, checking for more pit-mad assassins. 

Until he saw the child standing in front of the pit, shoulders square as if he owned the place. Bruce wasn’t looking at the pit–he was looking at the kid. A child who resembled Bruce enough for it to be uncanny.

“Hello father,” the child said in a voice that could only be described as crisp. “Mother said that you would come.”