batmanschmatman | 124 [voice/spam]

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124 [voice/spam]

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[Dick's gone back and forth on saying something public about this, because while he's still kind of freaking out about this and knows this isn't his Bruce, he still feels weird basically siding with the other wardens/the good of the Barge instead of him. This wasn't exactly the father/son reunion he was expecting. :c] That isn't the Bruce Wayne from our world. If he says anything to anyone that gives you reason to be concerned, I want to know about it immediately.

[This is legitimate, okay, he's already talking about staging an escape attempt. B(]

[Filtered to the DC Cast]

I need you to tell me everything he told you. [This is an order, not a suggestion. :|]

[Private to Dean]

...

[Private to Sara]

...

[He was going to message you both, but he really doesn't know what he wants to say, and there's a pressing issue he needs to deal with right now.]

[Spam for Tim]

[Dick isn't honestly sure how he's processing all of this. He's angry, he's frustrated, he feels like he's running on adrenaline but doesn't have anything to do with it, which means he's been pacing and kind of shaky the entire time he's been talking to Bruce. It's stupid, he knows it's stupid to get this worked up over the Barge throwing something like this at him, and really, with all the different realities out there, he probably should have been anticipating it. But that doesn't make it any easier to deal with, and it doesn't change the fact that he's seen what that kind of psychotic break does to someone like them, and he's never really actually... dealt with the fact that he'd been killed by someone with a pretty similar mindset.

At least this time, the crazy murderous Batman apparently wasn't planning on holding a gun on him any time soon.

Which is actually the more pressing issue he needs to deal with right now, so, message composed and posted, Dick tosses his comm down and head out of his room down the hallway and knocks at Tim's door impatiently.]

It's me.

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[And that's exactly what he'd been afraid of, and there's a terrible part of him that wants to march downstairs and strangle Bruce himself for this, because Tim doesn't need this. And he knows he's thinking about the other Barge, too, and what happened and that's... really not helping his I want to go scream at Bruce some more urges, really.

He crossed over to his brother and put a hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to focus on him, although he wondered briefly if even that was a good idea, considering what had happened.]

Tim, this is not your fault. We don't know anything about what happened in his universe. It's ridiculous that there's even another Bruce, let alone carbon copies of the rest of us, there is no way that this is your fault.

[His eyes still want to slide away, to go left or right or up or anywhere but at Dick, but Tim makes himself focus. He's afraid his eyes will slip to Dick's chest, and all he'll see is the gaping wound again, and he's a little afraid that will snap him right now.

He makes himself nod, and it all feels really distant.]

I know. I know, I know. I can't be in two places at once, I get it. [But.]

[He can hear that but. :|

He squeezes his shoulder a little tighter, frowning, because he can see where this spiral is heading and he's trying to make you put the breaks on it before it gets totally out of control.]

Stop. I'm not going to let you do this to yourself, okay? This is not your fault.

[Well he does speak Tim. :| Tim makes himself nods, but he feels it at a distance. It's like he's slipping away and it's hard to pretend to be grounded.]

I'm not-- [He closes his eyes, and nods again.] I know it isn't. [But he still wants to tear his hair out and find the Tim Drake from his universe and punch him, and keep punching him, he wants to hurt this other version of himself for not being there, for no stopping him, for not doing what he was supposed to do.

He was supposed to center Bruce. And he, this other Tim, didn't. He didn't.

Tim opens his eyes.]

I know.

[Dick does speak Tim, and he knows you're pretending like everything's fine even though it's not because 1. that's what you do and 2. that's what he's doing too right now, so he doesn't drop it.

Instead, he moves his hand to cup Tim's jaw, trying to make sure he couldn't look away from him again or shy away in general. Plus, he's annoyingly tactile, we all know this.] Timmy, look at me.

You might never have even existed in his world. You saved our Bruce. You saved all of us, and that's what's important. You can't control what happens in other universes. And he's here now and he's going to get help. [Even though there's a part of him that just wants him gone, right now, none of this redemption crap he's not even really sure he believes in, because he doesn't really want to find out if Bruce would ever pull a gun on him and pull the trigger without blinking, even though there's a part of him that actually feels like that might be easier than confronting the other Tim again, because he can still remember hearing him say "this is your fault" and knowing that it was.] Don't beat yourself up about this. This doesn't mean anything.

[And he's honestly not sure if he's trying to just reassure him about this not being his fault or if he's trying to tell him just because this Bruce ended up this way doesn't mean that future Tim was inevitable, either.]

[He wants to look away, and he can't, and that's so hard. His throat works, but his mouth stays closed, because he doesn't know how to say what he needs to say. He doesn't know what he wants to do beyond standing very still. It feels like if he doesn't, if he doesn't keep himself in careful check, he'll explode.]

How can he be redeemed, Dick?

[It's Bruce, but - it isn't just Bruce, it's him, and Tim can't help but superimpose that. He can't help but see himself when he thinks of this Bruce, and Tim is terrified to see him in the hall because he knows it won't be Bruce Wayne he'll see.

I'll be Batman, Tim Drake. It'll be everything he's scared of being. And he knows there is no redeeming that Tim, he doesn't care what anyone has to say about it, you can be so far gone that you just can't be helped. A Bruce who kills - he can't be helped.]

[That kind of feels like being punched in the chest, and "I don't know" is the first thing that comes to mind, but at the same time, he feels like it's not true. He didn't know enough about this Bruce to make that kind of call, and there's a small part of him that was screaming for attention that said they could fix this, Bruce was a good person, he could be helped.

But he'd stared down the barrel of a loaded gun held by his brother, who did the same thing this Bruce did, who didn't think twice before shooting him in the chest and watching him bleed out on the floor of the engine room, and he knew Tim was a good person, too. He didn't know if the future Tim could be helped. What was different from this Bruce?

His resolve on the keeping his distance front is splintering rapidly, being crushed by the sudden feeling of weight on his shoulders and in his chest, and he suddenly felt like he needed to blink more because his eyes were burning.]

We'll figure it out. We always figure it out. [He pulls Tim into a hug without further debate, holding him tightly, almost like he was trying to turn himself into a shield to keep Tim away from all the bad things out there, from Bruce and horrifying futures and the Barge in general.] Everything's going to be okay.

[And for once Tim doesn't fight it. Doesn't pause before hugging back like he wishes it hadn't been initiated at all. His fingers dig into Dick's shoulders, and he holds tight enough to ground himself. He stares over Dick's shoulder, and it still feels like he's drifting, but at least someone's lost at sea with him.

His jaw locks up, and Tim closes his eyes, pressing his face down against the edge of Dick's shoulder. He wants to believe that, and it's easy; they do, most often, figure things out.

But sometimes they don't. Sometimes he never figures things out, and those are the worst, the very worst moments. That's when fathers die, and girlfriends leave, that's when you decide to pick up a gun and do what needs to be done.

He can't say anything; he's too preoccupied with remembering how to breathe normally.]

[Dick doesn't say anything for a long time, hugging him tightly and trying not to swallow too hard when Tim hides his face in his shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a shaky breath.

It's almost too familiar, really, although at least this time Tim's not sobbing hard enough he's on the verge of hyperventilating, and it's not really a memory Dick's enjoying being reminded of. He'd been scared of how badly Tim was taking it, even if he understood why, and he didn't really know what they were supposed to do now, what the next step was going to be, because this wasn't something that was going to be over in a few days. They were going to have to live with this Bruce being here, in a pretty contained environment with them for potentially months, maybe years, and Dick knew logically he couldn't keep Bruce away from Tim forever.

Even if he really wanted to. This was really just further reaffirming the idea that there needed to be a buffer there, especially if Babs wanted to carry out her stupid spy network plan. Tim would be getting involved with that over Dick's dead body.

Which maybe wasn't a great expression to be using right now, but.]

It's okay. [He tried to control his own breathing, to give Tim something solid and calm and reassuring to hold onto, and he carefully rubs his back with one hand.] We'll figure it out, I promise. Anything you need, I'll figure out a way to make it work, okay?

[It felt important, to remind him again that he wasn't going through this alone, that no matter what the Barge had thrown at them, they had each other and Dick knew he'd do whatever he could to make sure Tim was alright.]

[Tim didn't think it was possible to forget that Dick would always do that for him, be there and do whatever he needed, but somehow it almost always surprised him. Because Tim didn't know if he could do that, for someone. He didn't think he could stand it.

So he just nodded against Dick's shoulder, because it was just so much easier than anything he could think to say. And right now, he needed easy. A few minutes later, he swallowed, and decided to trust his voice.]

You don't have to do it alone. [He was quiet - but at least he was steady.] I'm here.

[It wasn't what he wanted to say, exactly - he wanted to say, you don't have to be the hero, you don't have to be a martyr, because I've got your back, I always will, I promise - but thinking that leads to until I pick up a gun and think that's what Gotham needs and he can't, he needs to stay away from those thoughts, he needs to stay as far away as possible.]

[Dick couldn't help it - even despite everything, he grinned and squeezed Tim a little tighter for a moment, because he knew. He really did. As long as they were here together, they were going to have each other to fall back on and look out for, and Tim didn't need to say what he'd held himself back from, because Dick already knew.]

I know. [There was never any question that they were in this together, now, and hadn't been for months, not since the awkwardness of their different points in the timestream had been patched over. There was no one else Dick trusted more to have his back and be there for him when he needed it, no one else he was as willing to drop everything for no matter what else was happening, and that did include Bruce. Tim was the center of his universe in a lot of ways, and it wasn't just because he was someone Dick felt like he needed to protect. That instinct was still there and probably always would be, but his brother was way more than that.

So he held him tightly and took comfort in that. No matter what happened, he'd have Tim, and he'd do literally everything in his power to stop him from slipping, or he'd follow him over the ledge. It was that simple, and there was no other options.] We're partners. We're in this together.

[There was a lot more he wanted to say, like don't shut me out when this gets too hard to deal with and you know how much I love you, but he figured that could probably go without saying, too. Tim knew.]

[Tim could count how many people he had that kind of understanding with on one hand - he didn't even need the whole hand. And somehow he managed to smile - it was small, still, and unpleasant thoughts lingered at the sour corners of his mouth, but it was a smile.

He leaned back, patting Dick's shoulder, and then made himself straighten, standing on his toes so he'd be taller.]

You know it, old chum, [he said, making his voice a little deeper and dramatic and comical. He squeezed Dick's shoulder, and the smile slipped a little, but not into a frown. It was something quieter, an expression that just said I know, even if he didn't say it. He'd fight tooth and nail to keep Dick from slipping over the edge with him, but that was why they relied on each other so much: they managed better while looking out for one another. And at this point, Tim didn't know what he'd do without it.]

[Dick's grin got wider and he actually laughed at the impression, almost as if things were normal. He was actually surprised - and more than a little relieved - by how Tim was taking this, because he'd almost been expecting stiffness and avoidance and otherwise typical signs of I am completely failing to cope with what's going on here. He was still worried, because he knew Tim was still really upset, but he seemed better than he thought he would be, and there was a part of him that wanted to grab Tim and hug him again, as if he didn't already know how much he loved and appreciated him.

They would be okay. As long as they had each other, each trying to keep the other from completely spiraling out of control, they would figure out a way to make things work. If Dick couldn't believe in that, he might as well not believe in gravity or that the Earth revolved around the sun.

He ruffled Tim's hair gently, still grinning, before putting a hand on his shoulder, appreciating the connection.] Do you need anything?

[Tim shook his head, halfheartedly trying to dodge the hair ruffling. He wasn't falling apart, not like he had before, after holding the gun in his hands - but he wasn't completely right, either. Not yet.

But he would be. He would be. And if he had to believe that to keep from giving in and becoming that version of himself - he'd just rather believe.]

No. I'm good. [He shrugged, scratching behind his ear.] I mean, all things considered. Thanks, Dick.

Any time, Lucy. [He let himself grin a little mischievously at the nickname, because that at least had been a good part of the whole thing. If there could be a good thing that came from that whole fiasco.

But after a moment, he had to sober a little, because there was still some stuff he needed to tell him so this wouldn't get any further out of control than it already had.]

Babs wants to figure out a way to get you, Steph and Cass in closer with Bruce so we can find out more about him, since he doesn't know you guys yet. I told her to back off and not get you involved, and she got all mad and accused me of being Batman. [Which he was sort of saying in a way that suggested he really didn't see why this was news to anyone. He'd been acting like Bruce as a not exactly healthy coping mechanism since Gotham.] She'll probably want to talk to you about it. And I know this is probably just me being overprotective, [The self depreciating humor dropped out of his tone as he continued, because he was being 100% serious here.] but if you need someone to be a buffer between you and Bruce, you know I can be.

[It was probably stupid, but Dick had learned never to go into situations unprepared and he wasn't exactly eager to find out what this Bruce's reaction to meeting Tim in person was going to be. He'd like to think that he wouldn't hurt him, but he also would have liked to think that the other Tim would have just knocked him unconscious and dragged him down to Zero for trying to sabotage the ship, and he wasn't in a hurry to make sure Tim found out what staring down a loaded gun held by someone you loved felt like.]

Never letting that go, are you? [His tone was wry, but he'd probably have it no other way, in the end. It made joking easier, made moving on a possibility.

Somehow he held in a groan at the explanation - it was a good plan, all things considered, something he'd probably approve of if he could look at it clinically - but he couldn't. He just couldn't, not yet, and that left a sour taste in his mouth.]

I know, [he said quietly, nodding.] I don't plan on needing a buffer. [Because he was going to keep as much of the ship between them as he could, damn it.]

Nope. [And we all know how Dick felt about moving on and trying to strike a healthy balance in your life, even if he could maybe do with some refresher courses himself.

And that was, honestly, kind of a relief. It was a small ship, all things considered, so keeping them really away from each other in the first place would be difficult, and Tim actively staying away increased the chances of Dick successfully keeping things that way.]

I know. But I just wanted to make sure you know that's on the table.

[He also figured it went without saying that he hadn't told anyone about what had happened last August, and he wasn't planning on letting the rest of the Gotham crowd know about it. It was too complicated and personal to get into, and if he was really being serious, he really hadn't actually dealt with the issues at all, and he wasn't interested in it suddenly being the hot topic of discussion for everyone else to go on about.]

[Failing to deal with things? Them? Who'd have guessed.

Dick didn't need to say it; the people that Tim might be okay with knowing weren't really here. Either not from the right time, or from the right universe. Kon wasn't Conner, he'd never tell Rose, and maybe, maybe he could tell Cassie, and he's forgiven her for not believing him in Gotham and for trying to do Dick's dirty work, but he can't forget it, either.

It's much, much too personal to explain to anyone, in the end. Because he'd have to lie, and say it's a possible future, or I'm sure I stopped it from happening. Because he doesn't really think he did.

Pushing a hand through his hair, Tim lets out a breath, and nods again.] Thanks, for telling her that.

[He presses his lips tight together, tries to ignore how badly he doesn't want to talk right now.] I'm gonna be all right, Dick. I'm not planning on a heart to heart anytime soon.

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