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It was silent. Nothing permeated the fragile object that let Tim cling to the hope it was all a dream. If it was silent, then it might not be real. He could be in his room, finally getting some sleep. Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d be staying in the guest room at the Wayne’s house.
Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever. No fantasy can really replace what is right in front of you or where you are.
Tim didn’t know either of those things. All he knew was that he was in a dark, damp, freezing somewhere . He sits, or rather, is secured to a metal chair, duct tape trapping him in place. Normally, Tim would be able to break free in a moment, especially when his captors used duct tape.
No. This time, they didn’t just wrap his wrists together behind his back. They wrapped each limb separately. His legs were flush against the front legs of the chair, wrapped from Tim’s knees to his ankles in multiple layers. His shoulders had been forced back, tape going over his chest more times than Tim could count. His wrists were bound where the back legs met the base of the seat.
Suffice to say, Tim wasn’t getting out of the one. Not on his own at least.
Fuck. I didn’t have time to hit my emergency beacon. None of them know that I went out tonight and even if they did, they can’t do shit about it. Dick and Damian are on some brother retreat with the Titans, Jason’s out with the outlaws, and Duke is training with Bruce off world. Steph and Cass are in Hong Kong. It’s going to take weeks for them to notice I’m missing.
Squinting his eyes, Tim tried to make out his surroundings. Whoever had taken him, they hadn’t blindfolded him, only brained him with some kind of metal pipe. It hurt to try and think. It felt like he was stuck in a fog, tar trapping his legs as he tried to move through it. He felt water dripping off the ceiling and onto his forehead, helpless to stop the shudder that ripped through him.
He’d been heading from his nest to Wayne Manor for some patrol supplies when his kidnappers crashed into his motorcycle, making him ram into a brick wall. Assholes. I really liked that bike too . He’d only had a second to think after the crash. Tim had just barely got his bearings when they’d knocked him out. After getting whacked with the aforementioned pipe, Tim had woken up here. In this pitch black room. Completely immobile.
God, Jason is never going to let me live this down once he finds out. Tim didn’t let himself even think in ifs. Even if the Wayne’s weren’t here to save his sorry ass, Tim would find a way out. There was no other option.
Suddenly, blazing lights erupted from all sides. Tim squeezed his eyes shut, his corneas burning from the sudden onslaught of sensation. Jeers of laughter came from somewhere behind him.
Dammit Tim. You’re supposed to be the observant one. Fucking OBSERVE. Lost in his muddled thoughts, Tim had failed to hear a figure sneaking through what he assumed was the entryway to whatever hellhole this was.
Blinking rapidly, Tim called sharply out. Or rather, he tried to. “Ho areee yuh, wuh-wuhere ‘m I?” The laughter increased. Well. I may have missed the intimidating mark with that one.
The over sensitivity to the brightness suddenly made more sense. His domino should have some kind of lens to protect him from most, if not all of a light attack. That, along with the slurred speech, led Tim to the embarrassing realization that he in fact, had a concussion.
“Looks like the bird has finally awoken.” The voice was oddly familiar but Tim couldn’t place it. A fog seemed to cloud his brain, keeping him from firing on all cylinders. “Tell me Detective, how are you finding your accommodations?”
All attempts at struggle ceased, the blood in the captured vigilante’s veins turning to ice. No. No, no, no, no, no! There was no doubt about who the voice belonged to now. No one called him Detective like that, not in the way that made Tim want to tear the tendons from his very flesh like this man did.
“Nothing to say? What a shame.” Despite his words, Ra’s seemed very pleased with the silence. Tim could only sit frozen as the man roamed closer, his footsteps giving away his location. Purposefully.
The pronounced footsteps meant one thing. Ra’s wanted Tim to hear him coming. Wanted him to hear as he slowly approached lazy and unbothered as Tim sat, unable to run. A predator that had captured its prey.
Tim fought to stay still, fought to keep the shivers, the shakes that tried to rack his body at bay. He wouldn’t give Ra’s the satisfaction of seeing his fear. If his role was to be the rabbit, he would not cower in the face of the lion.
Slowly, out of the corner of his eye, Tim saw him slink into view. The Cheshire grin that looked ever whiter with the glowing green eyes that followed. His hands were held behind his back, his posture was loose in the way that it gave off an air of ‘I could end you at any moment, and you’d be powerless to stop me.’
Always with the power plays. I need to get out of here. Tim’s fingers started unconsciously scratching at the metal legs of the chair. Glove met metal in a near silent but noticeable show of weakness.
When Ra’s tilted his head expectantly, pleased with how he unnerved the boy in front of him, Tim tightened his jaw. He wouldn’t let Ra’s see him struggle. With that, Ra’s gaze sharpened, his smile somehow becoming more sinister than before.
“Tt. I hoped we could have a chat like we used to Detective. It hurts that you would ignore me after all that we’ve been through together,” He brought up one hand, bringing an ornate blade with it. “Indeed, what a shame.”
Ra’s started at the blade almost reverently, turning it over to inspect every last detail. After he was done, he brought it close for Tim to see. The hilt was golden and carved within it was a depiction of a Robin. A Red Robin to be exact.
Okay, I know Ra’s is a freaky deeky old man, but this is some weird knife kink that I do not want to bear witness to. Tim pushed down the anxiety stabbing at the back of his skull, a thousand needles hitting his scalp at once. He couldn’t let himself consider the implications of what it meant, only distract himself from the impending doom he felt on the horizon.
“I’m sure you must know this by now Detective,” Ra’s purred as he said the name. “The League of Assassins follow certain traditions around here. All of these are sacred to the world we want to build. One where we tear apart the weak, throw away the fodder that is the weak leeches of society.
“All this, we will do so men like us can walk this Earth without the hindrance of society’s ‘morals’. To make this world become a reality, we cannot do it without just my mind,” At that, Ra’s pulled back the blade and stared straight into Tim’s eyes.
“I’ll need a tactician. Someone to command my forces against welps like Batman and Damian, my foolish daughter’s failed heir,” Ra’s spit the names like they were poison. By now, Tim couldn’t stop shaking in his chair. He couldn’t hold himself back, the fear of what was to come too imminent, too close to shy away from.
He twirled the blade in his hands, one hand on the hilt and the other on the tip. “Without that pathetic excuse for a Grandson, I am without a proper heir,” Toxic green eyes looked up to stare into Tim’s icy blue ones. Even completely restrained, Tim felt pinned under the piercing gaze. “It’s for the better, I suppose. I have had my eye on someone more qualified. One that has spent time within my ranks, proven their worth. They just need a bit of… conditioning.”
Ra’s moved closer to Tim, his ghostly teeth on display. No longer did his lips frame them like the Cheshire Cat. No, now they stretched back unnaturally on the ancient man’s face, revealing what was truly lurking beneath. A shark. One that smelled blood in the water.
The anxiety and fear Tim had felt spread across the back of his head travelled down his spine. It went from limb to limb, until all Tim could feel was white hot needles pricking every inch of his skin. Please. No. I can’t, he can’t, no. I just got Bruce back. He’ll be so disappointed. I can’t- Ra’s wouldn’t, right? He wouldn’t risk messing with my mind.
Despite his inner ramblings, the pleas that would go unanswered, Tim knew he couldn’t delude himself. There was no escape. He was stuck in this chair, anything that might help him was out of reach.
“You must know where I am going with this Detective,” Ra’s was now standing right in front of Tim. When Tim turned his face away defiantly, refusing to meet the man’s eyes, Ra’s sighed. Suddenly, the patch of rough stone shifted quickly out of Tim’s view. Pain bloomed along his jaw where Ra’s free hand gripped him tightly, forcing him to meet his gaze.
“Come now, you need not make this difficult,” Holding eye contact, Ra’s continued to flip the blade in his other hand. “You must know how we name new heirs here. I’d expect as much from the son of the Bat.”
“Nuh ‘is son,” Tim rasped out. Maybe he’s doing this to hurt Bruce. If he realizes that I’m not really his son, maybe he’ll let this go. I’m fine getting off with medium to light torture if it means Ra’s keeps whatever he has planned for himself. “Jus thu neighburs ki.”
He hoped his face didn’t change much, but from the way Ra’s chuckled, some earnestness must have shown through. “Oh, my dearest Detective. This has nothing to do with the Batman. The fact he was not tactical enough to secure such a valuable asset is beyond me, but I can not complain much. It is through his folly that makes this all the much easier.
“You don’t seem to be in your best mind as of now, so I will just remind you. Everytime a new heir not of the al Ghul bloodline is chosen, they must undergo a sacred ritual,” Ra’s brought the blade back up, holding it between his chest and where he still gripped Tim’s face. “Each candidate has a blade crafted for their old self. A piece of steel to represent the passage from who they used to be to the bloody birth of their new self.”
This is so much worse than I thought, Tim felt the blood leave his face, paling. He, he can’t really be talking about- about killing me right? Maybe he’ll just cut my palm and we do some sort of blood brothers pact.
Ra’s continued to speak, immediately dashing Tim’s already fleeting hope. “After their old selves have been drained away, they are baptised. Given life anew in the waters of the Lazurus pit.” The already wide smirk seemed to grow impossibly larger. “Do not worry Detective, you will not remember any of this. Nor will you remember the Batman or his pesky brood.”
“No, no,” Tim struggled in Ra’s grip, trying to shake his head. He can’t, I don’t want to forget them. I can’t, I can't, I can’t!
“Oh, but dear Detective, it has already been decided.” Ra’s brought the knife up to Tim’s throat. The edge kissed his skin, landing right on the scar Jason had given him the night he came to Titan’s Tower. “My only regret will be that I could not convince you to come willingly.”
Before Tim could cry out, before he could try to reason with a madman, he felt a sharp pain on his neck. He gaped, opening and closing his mouth, gasping like a fish out of water. Looking down, he saw the blood run down the deep green duct tape they’d used to secure him in place.
It can’t end like this. It- it just can’t.
Ra’s had stepped back, wiping the blade on a cloth he’d gotten from somewhere, but Tim hardly noticed. His vision was darkening at the edges, closing in on him despite his struggles to keep his eyes open .
Flashes of the Wayne family- No, his family pushed their way to the forefront of his mind. If I’m dying, it won’t matter. I can pretend they were my family. I can pretend before I won’t remember enough to even pretend anymore.
Visions of Dick, ruffling his hair after a good patrol, training surfing in bludhaven. Of Jason, snorting and nearly falling off the roof they were on at his dumb jokes, cooking him dinner because he claimed Tim was ‘absolute shit at self-care, sit down and shut up baby bird’. Even of Damian, in his cold and violent welcome, the subtle thank yous he gave Tim after he’d shown him some photographs to use as references.
Then there was Bruce. Bruce, first the cold, ruthless taskmaster, then the somewhat gentler mentor. Tim felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes as he remembered the warm hand on his shoulder, the approving huff he’d gotten when he finally did something right for once. He may not have been his kid, but Tim couldn’t stop himself from thinking of him as his Dad in these final moments.
In seconds before the darkness wrapped around him entirely, Tim found himself dreaming again. As death finally sunk its claws into him, he imagined he was in the Den with everyone. That he was sitting on the old, beaten up leather couch, surrounded by everyone.
Dick was smothering Damian in a hug he clearly loved but wouldn’t show. Jason and Steph were debating some stupid topic, Steph saying something stupid just to rile Jason back up again if the conversation lulled. Bruce was sitting in his armchair, Alfred standing just behind him as they looked onto all of them and smiled. Next to him, Cass was leaned into his side.
When she looked up to him, she smiled. “It’s okay little brother. You can stop fighting now; rest.”
Tim took his final breath and stopped struggling. The darkness swallowed him whole.
—
Green burst into everything. His lungs filled with it, every breath burned his lungs. He was blinded by it, seeing nothing but a toxic, neon green. Whispers filled his head, urging him to hurt, to kill .
When it finally cleared, he felt sopping wet. All around him were bodies, bright red pools still growing around them. They lay next to a bright, glowing green pool in some dark cave.
Breathing heavy, he lifted his gaze to find a man standing in front of him. He was dressed in flowing green fabric and had eyes the same color as the one that had filled his vision. The strange man stared at him with something akin to… glee?
Why was he the only one left standing? What could this man do that these men could not? Or, was there another reason for his survival?
Maybe… he was the reason why the boy survived. Maybe he protected him.
Not knowing what else to do, the boy met the strangers eyes and asked:
“Where am I?”