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electricgg · 13 days ago

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Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 9: As Long As I’m Held, I Don’t Care If It’s By Teeth

MasterlistChapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 (Here!) / Chapter 10 /

‘A family is forever.’

It sounded like static. At least the first few times, until her ears finally tuned in to the words as if she clicked into the right channel.

‘A family is forever.’

She was sitting on a small bed, made for a child, with colorful lines on the bedsheets. Toy cars and dolls were scattered on the floor. Posters of movies, old series, and robots hang on the walls. A pair of white sneakers with green stripes were just by her bare feet.

When she lifted her head, a twin bed stood parallel to hers on the other side of the room.

It was empty. The bedsheets were unmade.

‘A family is forever.’

The door of the bedroom creaked open. She got up and walked through the frame, encountering a never-ending hall of different types of doors. Their shapes, colors, and sizes, changed in the blink of an eye.

They were glitching.

‘A family is forever.’

It was a woman’s voice, the one repeating those words over and over again and echoing down the long hall and reaching her still body. Sinking right through her skin and enveloping her senses.

It felt like she was in some kind of trance.

Her steps felt light, like walking in a cloud. She walked down the hall, hands hovering right in front of her as she scanned the changing doors. Trying to figure out which one was the right one.

The right one for what? She wasn’t sure, but it had to be the right one.

Another creak was heard farther down, making her snap her head towards the noise. There, in a dark corner, a red glitching figure dived inside a half-opened wooden door on the right side of the hall.

She didn’t hesitate and started to run.

“Hey, wait!” she yelled, running harder when she took notice of the hallway narrowing down and the doors glitching and slamming open and closed.

The groaning and splintering of wood made her look over her shoulder. The sight of the hall falling apart in a dark hole made her sprint harder, and she decided not to look back again, as cold sweat dripped down her temple.

As she passed by the doors, bits of conversations filtered through her head.

‘My wife and her flying saucers’ ‘My husband and his indestructible head’

Dad? Mom?

‘I'm so sorry. Excuse me. I am Glamour, and this is my delightful assistant, Illusion.’ ‘I am Glamour, and he's Illusion!’ ‘Yeah, what she said. Today, we will lie to you, and yet you will believe our little deceptions because human beings are easily fooled due to their limited understanding of the inner workings of the universe!’

Where are you? What is this?

‘I can't tell from this angle.’ ‘I can’t wait to be a proud papa-ya!’

Dad. I’m right here?

‘That puts you at about... six months! Boy, oh, boy, I thought I had superspeed. I can't keep up! Please don't misinterpret; I can't wait to meet you, little Billy.’ ‘Billy?’ ‘Yeah!’ ‘Well, I was thinking Tommy. Just a nice, classic, all-American name.’ ‘Hmm, Tommy? Hmm, yeah. Yeah. Then there's Billy, isn't there? Named after William Shakespeare, “All the world’s a stage. All the men and women are merely players.”’ ‘Well, I guess there's only one solution to this debate. Hope for a girl.’

MOM, I AM RIGHT HERE. MOM. DAD. MOM-

‘Can you believe it? Twins!’

‘I’m a twin. I had a brother. His name was Pietro-’

A deafening screeching sound made her scream out, covering her ears and scrunching her eyes shut. But she didn’t stop running. She could feel the floor splintering under her feet, scraping the skin and making it bleed.

But she didn’t stop running.

If she had opened her eyes, she would have seen how everything around her had blurred out, or how her legs were leaving an imprint on the floor by how fast she was running.

‘You know, I don't miss the crying, but jeez Louise, did you have to learn to walk? You two never stay put.’

There! The door!

She reached out for it as it began to close, slamming it closed behind her and sinking to the floor with a crushing sob. Her back against it, hanging onto dear life by the frame of it as it rattled and tried to get busted open by the unseen force.

Then, silence.

She didn’t even notice she had her eyes screwed shut, tears slippnig down her cheeks as sobs ripped out of her throat.

What was happening? What is this? So lost, so confused. She wanted this to stop. The pain, the noise, everything. She just wanted to go ho-

“Sweetie, did you fall?” a motherly, warm tone snapped her out of her internal turmoil.

She wasn’t in the manor. Gone where the dark walls and expensive painted portraits. The smell of old dust and piney scent was no longer there. Instead, bright colors and a living room straight out of an 80s sitcom, with the heavenly aroma of freshly baked cookies and the faint smell of spices in the air, stood right in front of her.

But what took her breath away was the curly-haired woman wearing a suspender pants and a square-pattern shirt with a gentle smile on her face.

“Look at you! You’re bleeding, sweetheart!” she fussed, taking her in her embrace and carrying her towards the huge kitchen.

The woman settled her on the counter, muttering to her and wiping away her tears with her fingers. She kissed her forehead before separating from the girl and walking around the kitchen, picking up paper towels and a glass of water.

The girl looked around until she made eye contact with her reflection on the metal toaster. Gasping, as her little fingers touched around her face and the new wardrobe. A long-sleeved striped shirt and green overalls made out of soft material, her hair in two ponytails with huge green plastic balls on the hairties. Two on each side.

She didn’t even notice how small she had become. She looked like she was five years old!

“That’s why we always wear our shoes when running around, sweetheart.” The woman began to wipe off the blood on her feet, making her focus on her once again.

“Sorry,” wow, even her voice sounded small!

“Oh,” the woman cooed. “That’s alright. We all make mistakes, but we learn from them, right?”

She could feel tears coming out once again, lips trembling with an ugly sob, and pulling the woman in a state of panic. Items around the kitchen began to float, which only kick-started a new crying session.

The living room, the smells, the kitchen, the outfit. Everything. Everything was the same. This was home. But home had disappeared. Along with Mom. With Dad. With Billy. Home was gone. It was supposed to be gone. They were all supposed to be gone, but now she is here, and she knows it can’t be real. It can’t be real, but god, she wants it to be so bad, and it’s so selfish of her because Mom had to do the right thing, but she wants it back. And she wants it ba-

Her sobbing gets muffled as she gets pulled against somebody’s chest, hearing strong heartbeats under her ear. Hushing and soft words while her pony tails get undone by gentle hands, and soothingly caressing her hair.

Her Mom continued to hold her until her sobs settled down, taking big breaths as she gripped her mother’s clothes.

“You’re so strong, my sweet girl.” She said. “You have done what you can by yourself, and I’m so proud.”

“I wanna stay here,” the girl whimpered.

“I know.”

“I wanna be with you and dad.”

“I know, baby.”

“I want Billy with me.” She sniffled, lifting her head and looking at her teary-eyed mother. Her mom smiled wetly, cupping her cheeks and stroking the chubby skin with a soft laugh.

“He’s coming, sweetie. He’s closer than you think.”

The light in the room began to brighten up. Muffled noise coming from outside the house. She looked around, heart pounding as the walls and the tables started to glitch and disappear.

When she turned to look back at her mom, she was standing up and face to face with her. Back to her real height, it seemed.

“Mom, please,” the girl pleaded, hugging the woman tightly. “Don’t make me leave. Stay, please.”

Her mom held her tightly, making sure the girl’s face was against her body so she wouldn’t look at the glitching house. “Billy is close. I am close, and so is your father.”

The girl shook against her, hands fisting around Wanda’s shirt, as if hanging as tightly as she could would be enough to keep her grounded to her.

“Mama, I can’t do it. Not alone.” She whimpered, feeling the counter glitching behind her and the voices outside becoming louder.

“You’re not alone. And you're strong,” Wanda took her daughter’s head away from her shoulder so she would be able to look at her directly. She smiled widely at the crying girl.

“You’re a Maximoff. You’re strong and brave. And you will never be alone, because you have a family out there looking for you, and you need to hang on.”

The girl took deep breaths, and the ground started to glitch beneath the two of them. But she only looked at Wanda.

Even when everything glitched out and became black, all she heard was her mother’s voice.

“A family is forever. We could never truly leave each other even if we tried.”

“-me on! Snap out of it!”

She blinked, a loud, grave voice yelling right in her face, making her wince out loud. The bruising grip on her arms suddenly loosened as the tall, concerned man took a few steps back from her space.

The cold night breeze had made her skin cold to touch, her senses finally kicking back in. She quickly hugged herself, looking around the empty street she had woken up in.

The street lights flickered every three seconds. The road was soaked with what she supposed was from the late-night rain she remembered pouring outside in the manor while she listened to Wayne’s recordings once again. There were a few parked cars scattered around, some of them visibly damaged with broken windows and missing tires. The smell of trash and smoke almost made her cough and gag, but her teetering teeth made sure that didn’t happen.

She was wearing her sleeping clothes, a worn t-shirt of a seventies asian singer, and pajama shorts that she only used for the sake of wearing something underneath.

…She didn’t like long pants for sleeping. It was a pain in the ass waking up with pantaloons after twisting around in bed, don’t judge.

“What are you doing out?” The man in front of her growled out, an angry frown on his face. “It’s three and a half in the morning, and you thought going for a stroll down in Chinatown was a good idea?!”

He was tall, really tall. And built like a tank, judging by how his arms and legs threaten to rip out the seams of his clothes if he dared to flex even a little bit (best to take cover if something like that happened-). His hair was a messy mop of black, with a white streak curling in the front. A healed scar running down the side of his cheek, accompanied by a toxic green glare that truly made her hesitate to move from her spot.

If she weren’t so disoriented, she would probably yell at him to mind his own business and walk away. But right now, her mind is still wobbly, so her charming comebacks are a no-go.

“I’m-” Her hand instantly went to her throat, caught off guard by how cracked it sounded. As if she were screaming her head off. She cleared it with a cough, wincing at the raspy sensation.

“I don’t know.” She groaned out, receiving a blank look from the fuming man.

He began to take off his jacket and put it around her freezing body, the whole time grumbling under his breath about ‘damned Wayne genes of acting dumb’ and ‘how are you even so far away from the manor’. She gawked at him, shoving her arms inside the huge sleeves.

Until she noticed a familiar flickering pattern from a nearby street light.

“.--- .- ... --- -. .-.-.- / -... . / -.-. .- .-. . ..-. ..- .-..”

JASON. BE CAREFUL

‘So this is Jay,’ She mused to her thoughts, letting him guide her down the street with a hand on her shoulder.

Wayne barely mentioned him. All that she had learned about the missing brother of the family was from the recording tapes and mentions from eavesdropping conversations around the mansion by pretending to ignore them while using her headphones.

And most of the information she found wasn’t exactly good.

₊°︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶ ‧₊˚

Diary Entry: Year 8

“...I don’t really know how to begin his tape.”

“I’m supposed to be happy. Be glad that he’s back with us. That he is alive and safe and finally home…”

“But it feels wrong.”

“He looks wrong.”

“His eyes look so, so wrong.”

“...Mom mentioned something like it. A long time ago, when she wasn’t like she is now. About old rituals. Of bringing people back from the dead. She said that it was never good to anger Death, especially when it’s about taking a soul away from her.”

“Whoever takes from Death shall pay the consequences with their blood. Mom always warned me about it… But I can’t tell Dad about it.”

“He is still strange. With Jason back, he barely leaves the office, and in the past years, even mentioning Jason would be enough for him to shut down and disappear for days.”

“And Jason… he has changed. A lot.”

“He’s so angry. At everyone. And I can’t blame him for it because he has every reason to, no matter how much Dick tries to make things smoother.”

“...But sometimes, letting people be angry is a good thing. It is good that Jason feels angry rather than nothing.”

“No matter how much he scares me now, I prefer that he yells and fights and argues.”

“Even if I miss his smile and his talks, I know that Jason is gone.”

“All that is left is the anger, and I’m okay with that.”

“Even if it hurts.”

“Even if it scares me.”

₊°︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶ ‧₊˚

At least, she wasn’t the only undead person in the family. Yay!

Though both of their cases were quite different, there was one common fact. Which was that the two of them didn’t come back the same after their deadly encounters.

She still didn’t know how exactly Jason came back to life (still researching on that), but she was sure that Jason didn’t get his soul switched up by some twin brother that somehow-

“Since when do you sleepwalk?” He asked, gathering her attention once again.

The question made sense. She remembered falling asleep on her bed, all the tapes around the mattress before snoring her ass off all sprawled out over the covers. Then, that dream sequence (that’s still stuck in her head, by the way. Because she saw her mom. Her real mom. Her real house. She finally has her real last name. She is a Maxi-) and now, she woke up while standing in the middle of a street with no shoes and-

Wait. That’s right.

She ran.

She ran barefoot.

Jason yelped when she came to a full stop, lifting up her foot and holding it with her hands with a puzzled expression at the sight of the skin.

See, the skin on the soles of your feet, while thick, is still delicate and can be damaged by friction and pressure. Even in her dream, she had her feet all scraped and bleeding from mere wooden splinters. If she had managed to get out of the manor, go through the rocky path towards the gate, climb over the gate, and go through the dirty streets of Gotham while running, there was a huge probability that her feet were screaming out in pain, and she wouldn’t be standing at all.

Instead, there was no sight of blood. Not even a scratch on her skin.

“Damn lucky, if you ask me,” Jason said, tilting his head as he observed her unscatched skin. A glint of wonder in his gaze directed towards her.

“Yeah, lucky me,” She muttered, wiping away some of the dirt on her foot and sighing. She smoothed back her hair, some annoying strands bothering her view while staring at Jason with a grimace. “I guess you’re my ride back?”

He stood quiet for a moment, his glare getting under her skin and making her feel on the edge about his unsettling green color.

Wayne was right. Something about him was off.

“No, actually,” He grunted, walking forward and nodding towards an upcoming familiar car. “That would be Alfred. Good luck on that rant, kid.”

Jason walked over and passed the car, giving Alfred a quick nod as he got out of the car before continuing down the street to get on an old-fashioned bike that was parked further down.

Guessing on how much Alfred’s sharp eyebrows furrowed on his forehead, she knew she was having a long ride back to the mansion.

Well, she got a lot of things out of this. For example, Jason was also someone that she should avoid (still questioning that). And, of course, a very important detail.

Maximoff. She has her name back.

Fucking finally.

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

Contrary to what Tim believed, sleeping in the Titan’s tower did not work out like he expected.

His mind was on the verge of a breakdown, his brain begging for rest and sleep, but still refusing to do so. Like his own body knew what it needed to do, had even tried to do so without his permission, by the multiple times he jolted back to consciousness after nodding off in front of the main computer, or the sound of his friend walking down the halls.

Tim compared his situation to Pavlovian conditioning. And he was sure two people shared the blame.

It was a classical conditioning experiment or respondent conditioning. A behavioral learning process where a neutral stimulus becomes associated with an unconditioned stimulus, leading to a learned response to the formerly neutral stimulus.

This process was named after the russian physiologist Ivan Pavlov, who famously demonstrated it through his experiment with dogs.

In the experiment, three things were used: a dog, a bell, and food. The neutral stimulus (the bell) is repeatedly paired with an unconditioned stimulus (the food), which naturally elicits a reflexive response (the dog starting to salivate whenever he hears the bell because he knows that when the bell rings, he will be getting food).

In his case, Tim was the dog, and his reflexive response was sleep.

And the bell was his sister’s piano.

He thought it was stupid at first, but after a week and a half without proper sleep or naps, everything made sense.

Tim had associated his sister’s music with sleep. Unconsciously conditioning himself and his body to wait for the soft keys of the same old song echoing in the halls, so he would allow his tiredness and sleep to consume him and go to bed. And he had done it for years, even! Without ever noticing what she was doing!

Because two share the blame in this.

Him, because he was stupid enough to get himself conditioned like a fucking dog and understimating her.

And her, because, of course, she had these intentions the whole time.

Drive him insane without her music. Her daily check-ups. Not picking up his dirty dishes in the hall. It was all part of her meticulous plan of starving and depriving him of sleep.

He couldn’t help but laugh breathlessly, rubbing his eyes while leaning back in his chair.

His clever and cunning sister.

‘I can’t believe she managed to outsmart me,’ he thought as a contented smile pulled to his lips.

Maybe it was pride that he felt. Proud that she had twisted the odds and put him down from his high horse by playing the long game. By acting with patience. Waiting for the perfect moment to take away something as simple as-

“Still can’t sleep?” Conner’s voice kicked him out of his head, turning around in his chair to look at his concerned friend.

Conner had been the one to suggest that Tim could take a break in the tower, noticing on their calls that he wasn’t resting enough due to the current case going on in Gotham. And the young Kryptonian had been checking on him during his whole stay.

But no matter how much Kon tried to get him to talk, Tim wouldn’t say what was really going on.

He will keep his discovery to himself. No one else.

He was the one to figure her out.

His discovery.

His investigation.

His and only his.

“Just a bit,” Tim lied with ease, turning back his chair to the computer. The screen shows the new statistics and documents from the missing kids case. “I’m still going through the clinic documents that B sent a few days ago.”

Bruce had found their missing piece: Medical History.

All of the victims had been visiting hospitals in Manchester, Metropolis, Bludhaven, and Gotham in the past three years. General and specialized clinics.

Clinics that worked with genetics, specifically.

Kon leaned with his elbow against the back of Tim’s chair, scanning through the documents on display with intrigue. “What are your theories? Trafficking? Ransom?”

“It’s too late for ransom,” Tim muttered, tapping away on the keyboard for more documents to pop on the screen. “And trafficking would be more precise. Like a group of kids that stayed out too late or anything along that line, all of the children were taken at different times and with weeks of difference-”

Tim’s personal phone began to vibrate on the table, drawing both of their attention.

He took his phone, frowning at the ID Caller being none other than the demon spawn of his nightmares. He answered.

“What could you possibly want, Damian?”

The boy ignored his slashing tone. ”When are you returning, Drake?”

“Why do you even care?” Tim gave Kon a roll of eyes, to which the taller guy just shrugged.

“Because you’re the only one competent enough to hack into Arkham Asylum’s archives without questioning too much.”

“...You want me to what?”

“I am well aware you don’t lack hearing, Drake.”

Tim stood up from his chair, motioning to Kon to stay there as he walked outside the room to talk in the hall with his demanding younger brother. “I will need some context if you want me to do this behind B’s back.”

The line went quiet for a moment, hearing some door closing in the background and some shuffling around.

“I found some letters in Father’s office. Hiding in a compartment on his desk.” That got a groan out of Tim.

“Damian, you know that Bruce doesn’t like it when-”

“They’re letters for Embarrassment.”

That got Tim’s attention. “From Arkham? Letters from Arkham? To her? From who?”

“They’re all signed as U.H.. I believe the U stands for uncle, judging by the contents of the letter.”

“You read them?”

“And so will you, if you manage to hack into the Arkahm archives so we can figure out who this bastard is.”

The older sibling was very intrigued, despite the headache that was invading his brain. He was pretty much in the moment she was part of the investigation (more information about her, the more he could have in common with her-), but he would still complain about it just to annoy the little demon.

“And why is this bastard so important to you?”

The next words out of Damian’s mouth sent him down a spiral and directly to pack his things so he could head out of the tower as soon as possible.

“Because he is taking her away. All of the legal custody belongs to him.”

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

“I have made it perfectly clear, Clark.”

It’s been three days since that urgent meeting.

Three long days of rejected calls, ignoring messages, and blocking emails from everyone in the league, trying to change Bruce’s mind on the whole ordeal before he made a big mistake that could lead them to a completely preventable war.

Though that scenario was a bit extreme. But you could get the point.

“I get your point. I do,” the hero of Metropolis assented, his hands over the long meeting table in the Hall of Justice. “But you have to see what the consequences of your rule can bring to everyone else. Especially to Gotham.”

The Bat didn’t even look up from his file report.

“I do know. And the answer is still the same as before,” It didn’t take too much for Clark to know Bruce was glaring at him once he dropped the file to look at the hero directly.

“No metas in my city. And that includes mutants.”

Clark shook his head with a sigh. “You can’t control that. There’s no way of knowing who is a meta when they’re not actively using their powers, and mutants have been fighting for years for their rights and avoiding a legal registry so they can live normal lives.”

“Then, Gotham is not the place for that normal life.” Bruce shot back. But Clark didn’t let it deter him.

“So what then? The moment a mutant kid has their abilities awakened, they should just pack up and move? Leave their family and the place they have only known as home?”

Bruce got up from his chair, posture upright and tight. But didn’t say a word, simply glared at the fuming man in blue and red.

“...I know we are negotiating with a dangerous man,” Clark said in a calmer tone, sitting down on the nearest chair. “But Erik Lehnsherr is only trying to get rights for mutants after years and years of discrimination. I have interviewed mutants, Bruce. They are still humans and deserve to-”

“I will not,” his voice was like rumbling thunder, coming from deep in his chest and thundering around the empty room. “Listen to the pleas of a madman and a terrorist, Kent.”

They stared at each other for a few deafening moments of silence. The harsh exchange of words brought a tense and cold atmosphere between the two leagues’ most important members. Bruce’s chest was still as stone, but Clark could hear the blood pressure going up in the Bat’s veins.

It was Bruce who moved first. Picking up his things and walking towards the exit door, he muttered to Clark on his way out.

“No mutants in Gotham, that’s my order.”

Clark mused to himself, now alone at the table. The tip of his fingers tapped against the white fiberglass table.

At least, the meeting with Magneto wasn’t as ineffective as this chat with Bruce.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

“-we’ve talked about it and we’re still discussing the outcome of such demand, Mr. Lehnsherr.”

The whole League was gathered with a rush from the sudden call, sitting on their designated chairs with Batman at the head of the table and Superman and Wonder Woman on both of his sides.

A life-sized hologram of the man the world used to know as Magneto (now known as Erik Lehnsherr, ruler of Genosha) stood proud and tall with his hands behind his back as he listened to Wonder Woman’s words.

He was an older man, significantly older than the rest of the heroes by appearance, despite the good shape he was in. Judging by his muscles and good health, Lehnsherr took care of himself and kept a balanced way of life. He had a head of full white hair, slicked back with stray strands framing his severe face. Tanned skin, covered by an armor of red and purple accents. A dramatic cape was draped over his shoulders, and it waved at his ankles. His helmet, floating just beside him since the beginning of the meeting.

He commanded attention. Power. And Clark could see that Bruce did not like him one bit.

“Wonder Woman,” his deep, accented voice filtered through the sound system. “I am well aware that as an important security branch of the American government, you must make alliances with ‘threatening’ countries for the sake of your president’s peace.”

Everyone could understand what he meant by that.

“But,” he drawled, gaze sharpening towards the man sitting at the head of the table. “I can’t simply grant access to Genosha to the same government my people had to take refuge from. I have, above all, the security and well-being of my kind as a top priority.”

That’s when Clark decided to give his piece to the discussion. “We understand your views on the manner, sir. But what you ask in exchange-”

“Your leader wants to know if I’m making weapons. If I’m building an army.”

Glances and stares were exchanged as the silence in the room became tense.

But Erik Lehnsherr simply sighed, suddenly looking way older by the look in his eyes.

“I know my reputation. I know my history, and that can’t be mended. No one can erase the mistakes from the past. What is done is done, and I’ve made my bed with it.”

Suddenly, he turned, making sure he could look at every hero sitting at the table.

“All that I do, all that I’ve done, is for my kind. For the new generation of mutant children. So they are able to walk securely on the streets. Be accepted into normal schools. Live normal lives without the fear of getting chased or isolated by something they were simply born with. Simply because nature decided they would be different.”

He looked over his shoulder at the three main leaders.

“I am willing to have official visits from any of your members, monthly or yearly, with strict conditions during your stay.”

A few members visibly sighed in relief at that. They have been trying to get somewhere with this manner, and it was finally showing that it would be getting to a more positive route.

“As long as you grant sanctuary to mutants in your protected cities.”

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

And that’s when the meeting went to shit.

All because Bruce didn’t want mutants in Gotham, and Erik wanted sanctuary in each city that was under the territory of every single member of the Justice League.

“All or nothing” was what he said before leaving the meeting.

Clark understood both sides. Gotham is a stressful place, always under threat, and it could trigger a powerful mutant and cause more trouble and damage.

But most of these mutants were just kids. Scared children who have nowhere else to turn but their clueless families. And of course, a huge part of the homeless community was formed by mutants. People who didn’t get any help or were denied the help they deserved.

Maybe he was being biased, but Clark would have to change Bruce’s mind.

And that thought alone made sure he had a headache for the rest of the day.

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

“Give me two more laps, Wayne!”

When Mr. Munroe had inscribed her to the track and field team, she wasn’t expecting him to become her coach.

“The school said they didn’t have enough people to form an official team. They just let athletes warm up in the track, and that’s it. But what your family doesn’t know won’t hurt them.”

And with that, she had an excuse to stay after school. Track and field practice with Mr. Munroe (Who insisted on being called Logan, but just to get on his nerves, she started calling him Mr. Logan-).

Even if it was a made-up club, she had Mr. Logan as backup in case something happened.

And it wasn’t like she wasn’t practicing!

“Come on, Babes! You can run faster than that!” Bobby yelled and clapped from a bench as she jogged by him. She gave him a quick middle finger before sprinting down the track, his loud laugh making her grin.

Warren and Bobby were also tagging along with her to pretty much everywhere.

They took most of their classes together, excluding extracurricular activities (meaning Bobby’s baseball team and Warren’s debate team). Other than that, they would be attached to the hip even while at lunch or free period.

No matter how much Warren complained about needing to study, he wouldn’t move away from the two smiling idiots.

“She is gonna burn those shoes again,” Warren muttered, without looking up from his notebook, while Bobby turned to look at him.

“We put tape and glue on the soles yesterday, it’ll be fine.” He shrugged, glancing back at her as she began to run her last lap.

That would have been her twentieth lap. And it’s only been less than half an hour. Both of them knew she was fast, but it still shocked them how fast she actually was.

On Tuesday, she made five laps while still wearing her school uniform, not a single sweat in sight, but her shoes were suffering the consequences.

On Wednesday, she made ten laps with proper shoes and attire. Still not a sweat in sight, but she looked thin after running. Until Mr. Logan shoved some homemade energy bars into her hands and gave her a rant about eating properly and having enough calories in her food.

On Thursday, (While looking pretty much half dead and complaing about sleepwalking) Warren gave her the number of his tailor. Her uniform was way too big on her and needed adjustments. Bobby decided to keep a closer look at how much she was eating and the number of servings she got at lunch (A total of six servings, and big enough to make him a bit nauseous. That’s without counting all the snacks Mr. Logan kept giving her throughout the day and in practice.) She made fifteen laps. And the soles of the shoes chaffed off.

It’s Friday, and she just made twenty laps without a single sweat. In just five minutes. And no shoes burned.

“Oh shit!”

Scratch that. Two shoes burned.

Warren closed his notebook, walking towards an exasperated Mr. Logan, who inspected the ruined shoes, and a whining girl, who sat on the ground with her legs sprawled out as she ripped off her socks. Bobby followed him.

Her green jacket (a track jacket that she always wore to practice) and running attire (A white compression shirt and some green Lycra shorts with white stripes on the sides) didn’t show any signs of perspiration. Not even her skin seemed to sweat (and now it had some light tan to it, after spending this week running outside on breaks and in the afternoon).

“Looks like you need new shoes, bub. Can’t let you run in these anymore.” Mr. Logan said, making her throw herself back on the ground with a wail. “You melted the glue with your laps. The track is probably running hotter than I expected.”

For many reasons, Warren didn’t believe anything in that last sentence.

Bobby crouched down next to her as she mourned the death of her precious shoes, tapping her forehead so she would at least look at him. He smiled brightly when she opened her eyes and pouted up at him, making Warren roll his eyes.

“We can go shopping tomorrow! I need to buy clothes, and we could get you better shoes!”

Warren scrunched his eyes and crossed his arms. “Who is ‘we’?”

He was obviously ignored by both of them. She groaned out sitting up while slouching. “I can’t. I’m gonna go to the hospital to visit my mom in the afternoon.”

“We could go early,” Bobby offered, standing up and grabbing her arm to help her get off the floor. “I got my car, so we can go to the mall and then drop you off at the hospital! Maybe even meet your mom too!”

Warren waved his hand with a twitching smile. “Again, who is ‘we’?”

She threw herself over Bobby’s back, sighing at the cold temperature of his body and making the heat of the sun go away from her skin. Bobby jokingly broke his posture, receiving a whine and a pinch to the shoulder. He stood still as she looked over at Warren with a pleading glance.

“Would you guys do that? For me?” Bobby joined in the puppy dog eyes, both of them pouting at Warren as Mr. Logan shook his head in amusement, clapping off the dust from his hands as he walked away with the shoes.

Warren, red in the face, as his two friends scooched closer to him. Making exaggerated pleading faces and motions, until he groaned out to the sky and let them drag him into their weird and awkward embrace as they cheered.

“Fine, but only because I need to look for some shirts.” He grumbled, a twitch under the clothes on his back.

“It’s gonna be fun! We can also go eat something. I heard there’s this booming boba tea place, and I really want to try it. Oh, we can also go to Chili’s!” Bobby began to list off a lot of things to do, as he dragged both of his friends towards the bleachers to gather their things and kill some time before it was time for her to get picked up.

Maximoff could only think that she was glad to have people whom she could hang on to.

Until Billy found her.

She could see them getting along with him. They could make a great group.

Perhaps… she could tell them what is truly going on. Eventually, obviously.

Yeah, eventually.

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

Author's Note: PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR, I'VE GOT A NEW CHAPTER FOR YOU!!! Literally locked in to write this chapter because I found out I was gonna spend the weekend celebrating my Mom's birthday. This is probably my favorite chapter to write uptill now. We got Mama Wanda, Insane Tim, PEEPAW MAGNETO- and more insight in the mutants💖😉 And got filled with energy by all the asks (AND NOW ACTUAL FANART???) and the love this story has been reciving. Keep in mind the new schedule! Update will be Sunday night/Monday morning. And remember that I love to answer comments and asks so keep them coming!! Lots of love and hugs. GG✨

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phantom-z0ne · 2 years ago

Text

"He could feel their grip on him slipping, the suction too strong. If they held on any longer they would also be sucked in, they were dangerously close to the edge of the black hole. He wouldn't let that happen to them, even if it was the last thing he would do. They were precious to him, he couldn't let them get hurt too. Tim threw off their hold on him, their distraught faces the last thing he saw before he was fully submerged, everything going black." Or, Mutant!Tim accidently takes over Comics!Tim's body, gets in a fight with assassins, and gets to blow things up, as a treat.

Step 1: Arrive

Having Jean Grey of all people in his head was rare for Tim, especially when it was for an emergency. She favored talking face to face, or at least through a telephone. Only when something went wrong was when she discarded those methods, communicating instead with her abilities. He wasn't usually the first person called in, that was reserved for the X-Men.

This time though, Jean needed his help with a mutant that just manifested his mental ability. Unfortunately, he couldn't control it in time and trapped himself in his mind. She couldn’t ask the Professor due to him still recovering from the Apocalypse situation and there weren't any other mutants with the abilities she was looking for available to ask. That left him, a mutant with a powerful mental ability. Psychokinesis, to be exact.

He could feel the multitude of emotions wash over him as he neared the mansion. Distress sticking out sharply among the sea of positive emotions. He usually had to suppress his ability due to how overwhelming it could be in an area with a large amount of people. Unfortunately, he would have to do his work in the mansion, with almost a hundred students around. He pursed his lips, he hoped he could help the mutant without the other student’s emotions or thoughts getting in the way. He would rather they do this in a remote area, but Jean had said they couldn't risk moving the mutant.

Tim hopped off his bike after parking it in the garage, getting curious looks from some students and greetings from others—which he returned, he hadn't seen some of them in months—as he walked down the halls of the mansion. He let the muted distress guide him to where the mutant was. Jean’s ability brush against him in greeting and gratefulness, welcoming the warmth it gave him. Her power was distinctive, as scorching as the sun to her enemies and a pleasant hearth to her allies.

He entered the room the mutant in need of help was housed in, Jean positioned next to the mutant with her eyes closed in focus, hands on his temple. Her mind, however, was split between trying to unearth the mutant from his own mind and explaining the situation to him.

The mutant, Elijah Nguyen, had recently manifested his ability. It was thought that he developed minor esper abilities, but he started to display signs of other abilities, such as teleportation and minor telekinesis. Jean theorized he was in this state because of his new mental ability, the ability to walk through minds much like he and Jean could do. Unfortunately, because of his lack of training, Elijah trapped himself in his own mind.

Tim sat on the opposite side of Elijah’s body and grabbed his hand, vaguely aware of the Professor wheeling into the room as he sunk into Elijah’s mind. He filtered through all the thoughts and emotions flowing around him, around the mansion, he needed to focus only on Elijah. Locking on his target, Tim breathed deeply and entered Elijah’s mind, sinking past many layers to finally enter Elijah’s mindscape.

Every mind was different, there were no two same minds. Perhaps similar, but never the same. Elijah’s mind was bright, yet shadowed at the same time. It reminded him of the galaxy; splotches of black and purple colored the edges of the mind as nonsensical clouds formations floated about, glowing stars sprinkled throughout. Planets of many sizes and shapes drifted in the background, made of many different hues and shades, thin beams of light cutting through the image. If he could describe this scene to anyone, ethereal would be the first word off his tongue.

Tim followed the residue of Jean’s power, appearing as a wispy red trail. He found her near the core of Elijah’s mind, in front of a massive swirling nebula. She was in the middle of trying to breach the nebula and pull Elijah out without hurting him, sending him a strained smile once she noticed him. Tim could sense Elijah trapped in that nebula, the distress and fear clearer here than anywhere else. Unluckily for them, it was hard to create an opening, the nebula quickly layering over any small gap Jean made.

He aided Jean in chipping away the defenses of the nebula, making sure to be careful not to hurt Elijah, pieces of the nebula floating away as they continued their assault on the barrier. They exchanged small comments as they chipped pieces of the nebula away, asking the other to aim at a certain area or expressing their concern about Elijah’s wellbeing. After this was all done and over with, they would have to help build back his mental defenses.

After some time, the nebula looked to be in rough shape, small openings showed slivers of Elijah’s body. Tim reached for him before pausing, something wasn't quite right. He looked at Jean, wondering if she noticed the same thing he did. She nodded, reading him quite easily through their intertwined minds, and looked at the nebula warily.

Suddenly, the nebula darkened and condensed, a gaping black hole taking its place. Any opens that could be seen were now closed, Tim could feel the layers of matter that made up the black hole thickening. It was extremely dense and expanding at an alarming rate, aiming straight for Jean.

Tim felt rather than heard Jean’s startled shout as he shoved her out of the trajectory of the black hole; he knew that if that black hole touched either of them, there would be serious consequences. They should have been more prepared, he thought, a bit upset at himself. He knew this wouldn’t be an easy job, but he underestimated Elijah’s power, or perhaps overestimated his own. Of all the minds he's been through, very few have been able to use their powers while in their own mind. He didn't know why he expected this to be the same.

The black hole expanded faster than he could move out of the way, his lower body being sucked into it. He tried to stamp down his panic, distantly hearing Jean call his name. Panicking wouldn’t do him any good, but he couldn't help it. He could feel parts of his lower body being transported elsewhere, knowing his lower body was elsewhere yet still being able to feel them was extremely jarring. Was he being teleported while in another’s mind? What would happen to his physical body?!

No, this was more than just teleportation! He’s been teleported by many different mutants over the past couple years and they didn't feel anything like this. ‘It hurts!’

Instinctively, he latched onto Jean and the Professor's minds in order to not be swept away, his pain and fear pouring into them. He could feel the Professor's surprise at suddenly linking minds with him before it hardened into alarm. Jean was the same, scared and worried yet determined, just as she always was. She grabbed his arms and tugged on them, trying to dislodge him while avoiding also getting sucked into the black hole.

The Professor created a thin barrier to try and contain the rest of the black hole, the most he could do while weakened, as he and Jean got closer, keeping their grip on him as firm as they could. He had sunk around an inch or two by that point, the black hole up to his abdomen now.

He could feel their grip on him slipping, the suction too strong. If they held on any longer they would also be sucked in, they were dangerously close to the edge of the black hole. He wouldn't let that happen to them, even if it was the last thing he would do. They were precious to him, he couldn't let them get hurt too. Tim threw off their hold on him, sending them a brave face that doubled as an apology. He hastily ejected their minds out of his, instead spinning a barrier around them. Their distraught faces the last thing he saw before he was fully submerged, everything going black.

Tim groaned, his head was pounding. He could hear an odd buzzing in the distance, faint mumbling fading in and out of his hearing range. His mouth was dry, a few smacks of his lips didn't help his tongue stop feeling like sandpaper. Where was he?

The last thing he remembered was being fully swallowed up by the black hole… He actually didn't expect to make it out in one piece, not to mention in his body. It seemed his body came along despite his mind being transported to who knows where.

A harsh kick to his side snapped him out of his daze. He had been laying on the floor, chaos surrounding him. A group of people in obnoxious green suits decorated with question marks crowded around him, various weapons in their hands and ready to strike. One of them asked, “Did we get ‘im?”

Across what he assumed was a warehouse, a man—the ringleader most likely, he was also dressed in the strange green outfit, but it was much higher quality compared to the others—stood on a platform and boasted about his superior mind to a person dressed in head to toe in black. He couldn't afford to be distracted in an unfamiliar setting, he needed to deal with the immediate threats.

Leaping up from his sprawl, Tim aimed for the goon closest to him, kicking him in the privates and kneeing him in the face when he leaned forward in pain. He went down, hard. The others rushed forward after that, clearly aiming to knock him out again.

What they wanted with him, he had no idea. He couldn't remember messing with any group dressed in green. Unless he counted the Tankers, but they mostly wore jerseys and hoodies, not low quality suits riddled with question marks. Not to mention, he dealt with the Tankers last year. They wouldn't wait such a long time to suddenly attack him, that just wasn't their M.O.

Tim was glad that he had practice with dealing with group attacks, what with him sticking his nose into gang affairs, otherwise he would have struggled to fight this group off. When he tried to get into their heads to knock them out, however, was when he had trouble. A pounding migraine stopped him from actively using his ability on the group, blood begin to drip from his nose before one of the goons landed a lucky hit while he was distracted.

No using his powers on others anytime soon, then. It hadn't gotten this bad even when he overused his abilities before. An unwanted side effect of the sudden transportation.

Sloppily knocking out the last goon, he tucked himself into a discreet area of the warehouse and wiped his bloody nose, finally taking the time to go over his situation. He woke up in an unfamiliar suit after he was taken to an unknown location, is currently unable to use his ability on others without pain, and most likely took over someone’s body.

This body was different from his own body, the most obvious difference being muscles much more toned than his. If he could tell the body’s age from just its build, then he would guess it was in its early to mid-twenties. Whoever’s body this was, they clearly worked out regularly. Tim’s body couldn't really compete, smaller and leaner than the body he was currently in. It wasn't much of a surprise considering his recent break from crime fighting. That would definitely slim down the amount of muscle mass one had.

Tim guessed he was either shoved into someone else’s body or lost time after dealing with Elijah. While he couldn’t rule out amnesia, he doubted that explained his predicament. He sighed, already sick of the situation he was in.

The small break gave Tim time to look over what he was wearing. The armored suit was predominately black, streaks of yellow traced his under arms. A large gray utility belt wrapped around his waist, going through them revealed a miscellaneous assortment of items and weapons. One condensed bo staff piqued his interest, he could use it if the situation went south. The black, wing shaped cape draped over his body, letting him blend smoothly into the shadows. Twisting the cape around revealed its yellow interior. Odd to have that when the suit was designed for stealth. A black domino mask being the only thing covering his face, and his identity, when he checked his reflection on the stained metal sheet laying beside him.

The person whose body he was inhabiting was obviously a vigilante—he had ruled out the amnesia theory quickly, this body didn't have the scars or beauty marks in places his body did when he peeked under the gloves. If the suit and weapons weren't enough to convince him, then the situation he was in did. Tim wouldn't really consider himself a vigilante anymore, just someone that happened to uncover crimes in the past, but it was a bit ironic that he was thrown into the body of one. He did surround himself with vigilantes.

Unfortunately, his options on what to do were limited, he couldn't verify whose body this was without actively using his ability or unmasking himself in an area filled with enemies. Neither option was very appealing. For now, he would attempt to act like the person whose body this belonged to while he looked for ways to get back into his own body. The pain only flared up when he tried to use it against other people, not himself. It's possible that extending his power outwards instead of inwards could have been the problem.

He tested this, trying to contain his power within this body, moving his arm experimentally with his ability. A success, but a minimal amount of pain still remained when he used his ability. It seemed the more he tried to use his ability outside of his body, the more it would hurt. This meant Tim could check on the original inhabitant of this body, if they were still in the body. For now, he simply shored up his mental barriers, letting his ability recede behind their walls.

He peeked at the scene from behind a large wooden crate, the man in the black armored suit was finishing his battle with the man in the green bowling hat, handcuffing the ringleader’s hands behind his back. A burst of static emerged from the comm in his ear—which was surprisingly sleek compared to the ones he had used—when the man raised a hand to the side of his cowl. A voice spoke, “Black Bird, come in.”

Black Bird? That was the body’s code name? Seriously? He couldn't really complain, though, his previous code name was Cardinal. Tim answered, “Here.”

The deep voice of the vigilante—if fighting criminals in a dimly lit warehouse didn't scream vigilante, then he didn't know what did. He doubted he was the only partner of the black clad vigilante, there could be another person, or even multiple, on this line—simply stated, “Report.”

He took a deep breath before he started, hoping to sound like the original, “The goons are disposed of.” Tim paused briefly, licking his lower lip before continuing, “I was hit in the head. Most likely suffering from a concussion.” Hopefully that would cover the difference in behavior for some time, he didn't plan to stick around for long.

It wasn't just an excuse, he would need to treat it soon. It was likely what inhibited him from purposefully using his ability outside his body. Head wounds tended to do that. Though, Tim could still passively feel the presence and emotions of everyone in the warehouse, whether they were conscious or not. It was his base ability, just as it were Jean’s. It's what they initially bonded over when they first met.

There was a brief pause before the voice uttered, “Meet me at the Batmobile.” The line clicked off immediately after.

Batmobile? What— you know what? He won't even think about it. He needs a place to stay and heal from his concussion, then figure out what to do next. He also needed to figure out where the original owner of the body went.

They could have swapped bodies for all he knew. Or, the original could have been shoved out of the body, which would be…unfortunate. Hopefully, that wasn't the case. If they did, Tim would have to track him down and manually swap their minds into the correct bodies. That was only if this body’s owner stayed where he could find him.

Tim crawled out of his hiding spot and followed the man after he slipped out of sight, his surprisingly immense presence leading him to a sleek black car.

The man in black waited until Tim climbed into the car before turning it on, smoothly rolling onto the empty road. There was only a small barrier between them, the small gadgets laid atop it sliding into the backseat as the car sped up. He knew he should be more careful about being taken to a secondary location by a stranger, but this man was his only lead on whose body he was inhabiting. If it really came down to it, he would subdue him with his ability, whether or not it would hurt.

Tim ran his fingers absentmindedly over the dashboard of the car, feeling for any thin seams he couldn’t see. Mccoy would salivate after this car, its engine alone was amazingly quiet and he barely felt the turns. The inside was even better, there were many buttons, some unlabeled, and screens that moved at the touch of a finger! The radio was tuned to the police scanner, reports rolling in about break ins and missing persons. It was a technological wonder, he admired.

Tim focused his attention on the windows, watching the scenery pass by. Instead of being displaced in space, he wondered if he was also displaced in time. Some of the buildings he passed had thin screens covering them, even the gloomy clouds displayed colorful moving advertisements. He had never seen such a thing before, he wondered if it was even 1983 anymore. Would he be able to meet a future version of himself if he searched?

Static crackled in his comm before a smooth voice said, “B, I'm finished on my end. How's Baby Bird? You said he had a concussion?”

B responded, “Good job, Nightwing. We’re heading to the cave now.” Tim mouthed baby bird silently. At least he had something to call this man, but it would be a bit hard finding out what it stood for unless Nightwing let the man's full code name slip. B could be short for anything. He’ll have to be careful if he wants to pose as Black Bird, he can't just assume it's only B and Nightwing that will be at this ‘cave’. If there's three of them, then there's a higher possibility of more vigilantes.

“Tt. He can't even handle some of Riddler’s lackeys? As expected of Drake.” A high-pitched voice huffed. Riddler? The guy in a bowling hat with a question mark, the ringleader? No wonder there were such garish question marks on his goons with such a ridiculous name. He wondered if being tacky was a requirement to be a villain. Some of the villains in his time obviously never heard of fashion, picking the most clashing colors to place on their outfits and the outlandish of names. It seemed like it was the same here.

“No real names on the field, Robin.” A mechanical voice said, gently scolding Robin. Robin scoffed but stayed silent.

He supposes that the ‘Drake’ that Robin spoke of was this body’s last name. Oddly enough, it was the same as his own. The same last name and a similar build… Could he be in an alternate Tim Drake’s body? It’s a possibility, but he needed to find out more before he could confidently state it as true. He’ll keep it at the back of his mind, the concussion was making it hard to think. If he was in his original body, he would have already shaken it off, he thought sullenly.

“Thanks Hood, we’ll be at the cave soon, B.” Nightwing chirped, addressing B in the second half. The line stayed open after B grunted his assent, the sounds of the city and the vigilante’s chatter being able to be heard. Occasionally, sounds of a scuffle were heard but it didn't last very long.

He was right in that there were more vigilantes, Robin and Hood being two that were referenced during conversations over the line most often. He was a bit concerned about Robin though, he sounded… young, younger than Tim was when he first started out in the field.

B drove the car into a remote, out of the way path. They passed a wall of ivy that opened up to a large, illuminated cave littered with a surprising amount of knick-knacks. In the less illuminated areas, he could see the flutter of dark wings here and there. A life-sized dinosaur figure stuck out against its dark surroundings further in the cave, a large card near it, before flitting out of sight.

The whole cave was a technological marvel, he had never seen such devices in his world, and he was known for being the heroes' —well, technically they were vigilantes. The government really has it out for mutants at the moment—technical support. Well, him and Mccoy. Everything was just so advanced compared to his time. Tim thought he saw a deluxe coffee machine, but he couldn't be sure from this far. He would love for a cup of coffee now.

The car stopped abruptly, jarring Tim out of his observations. His fingers were given a small shock when he grabbed onto the hood of the car for support as he exited alongside B. Huh. They should do some work on the car if it's electrocuting people.

B grabbed his shoulders with a quiet “Let's go”, steering him to the medical area of the cave, a thin, crisply dressed elderly man already waiting there, giving him an unimpressed look.

“This is the third time this month, Master Timothy.” The elderly man gestured to the medical bed, obviously intending to check over his concussion. Tim complied silently, wanting to see how this goes. He had no idea what this Tim Drake's—it was just a theory at the moment, gathered from clues he was handed by the other vigilantes, but it seems the most plausible. He would be able to confirm it if he could find a place to use his ability and delve into this body's mind—relationship with this man was, though it was obvious he cared about Tim. The muted worry radiating from the elderly man nearly floored him.

The elderly man raised an eyebrow at Tim as he waved a flashlight over Tim’s eyes, “No excuse this time?”

Tim just gave him a thin smile, not sure what to say to sound like this Tim Drake. He had to be careful, mimicking someone's behaviorism was hard when you had no idea how they acted. For all he knew, this Tim’s—he would have to call him Drake, it was getting a bit confusing at this point—personality was the complete opposite of his.

It wasn't an answer and the elderly man knew it. When he finished checking up on Tim, he watched Tim pop pain medicine in his mouth and maneuvered him to the locker room, telling him to freshen up since he “smelled like the backside of a stable”. Tim didn't know if his advanced healing would transfer to this body, but he rather hoped so. He didn't realize how useful it was until he didn't have it.

A warning of no patrol for the next two days was thrown over the elderly man’s shoulder as he walked away. Tim kept a close eye on the man, watching him exit into an elevator at the other side of the cave before turning back to the showers. That was one way to exit the cave. He would be naive to think that was the only way out. If it were him, he would strategically place multiple exits and entrances around his base.

Tim stripped out of the suit and stepped into the shower. A steady stream of hot water beat harshly on his body, the heat relaxed his muscles and giving him a moment to think on what to do next. First things first, he needed an isolated area and rest. It was hard being in a possible hostile area and trying to not arouse suspicion. Even more so when there would be at least three more trained vigilantes arriving soon. He didn't doubt that they would catch onto him quickly. He was surprised he even made it this far without anyone noticing the difference in behavior.

After he rested, he could search for something that would connect to the internet or give him any information on this world. A library would do if he couldn't find that, but that would mean venturing out of the cave without anyone noticing. It shouldn't be too hard, though, he could be stealthy when he needed to.

Tim stepped out of the showers and grabbed the clothes that were set out for him. It surprised him a little, he hadn't realized he was so out of it that he didn't sense anyone nearby. The elderly man was most likely the one who set it out. What a sneaky old man. It was easy to deduce that he was a servant, one highly trusted for him to know of Drake's vigilante identity, and presumably the rest of the vigilantes.

When he reached the mirror, however, he paused. Sitting there in the mirror was a duplicate of his face. He knew from the monitors and the other devices he passed that this place was at least twenty to thirty years into the future, and yet Drake looked not even five years older than him. He tugged on his shorter hair, lips thinning. This added on to his theory that this wasn't the future in the first place but an alternate world. One where Drake was born decades after he had been, and led a completely different life than him. He needs to know what this world is like, ASAP.

He slipped into the simple knitted sweater and flowy black pants set out for him and swiftly set for the elevator exit. He heard the steady rumble of an engine as the doors were closing. It's a good thing he hadn’t dawdled for too long, he didn't want to interact with the other vigilantes when he still didn't know much about how Drake acted. Nor when his main defense was all but useless.

The ride up was quick and he was deposited in an empty office in no time. It was nothing special, but clearly well-used. Small trinkets laid atop the wooden table and awards lined the shelves. Quietly walking down the halls, Tim realized that this wasn't a random building that was renovated to host vigilantes in its basement, this was a home.

Hand drawn illustrations lined the walls and little scribbles littered the doorways. In some rooms, portraits of a smiling family were hung and little baubles placed around haphazardly. A well-loved wood carving sat on an old fireplace in one of the many rooms he passed. This was a home, and to many if the pictures could be trusted.

He saw his face in many of the images, showing his growth from a lanky preteen to a slim but healthy young adult. Turning one of the images around, he read the neat handwriting, Damian’s 11th birthday party. Another person, based on the difference in handwriting, wrote Can’t wait for next year’s!! with a smiley face scribbled next to it. His eyes lingered on one of the faces, a sense of familiarity filling him.

Entering one of the halls, he eyed the decorative door plates adorning the doors. Walking closer, he realized each door was assigned to the people from the images. Of the six doors, he found ‘Timothy Drake-Wayne’ between the rooms of ‘Cassandra Wayne’ and ‘Duke Thomas’. He traced the small purple star decorating the letter ‘T’ with his finger. Wayne, huh?

He closed the door behind him and locked it, scanning the room. Tim was slightly surprised at how similar it looked to his old room in the mansion. A couple of skateboards hung from a rack and posters lined his walls. A small bookshelf was embedded into the wall, he couldn't recognize some of the book titles. At the left of the room, a door stood slightly ajar, connecting to a small bathroom. Next to that, a small fridge was shoved into the corner of the room. A corkboard bursting with images of a city’s nightlife was mounted next to the single bed. On the bed was a thin rectangular device. Opening it up, it blinked to life, showing a login page.

A computer? This thin? He hadn't expected to see something like this in a long while. It was a bit exciting, actually. He loved the challenge that new technology presented, cracking this computer would be a nice exercise. But first, he needed to know about Drake’s condition.

Tim settled cross-legged on the bed, taking a deep breath before delving into his mind, guiding his ability inward. He landed in a familiar scene, standing in an icy tundra, colorful green and blue aurora borealis danced in the icy blue sky. There was snow as far as the eye could see, white flecked mountains rising in the distance, chunks of snow decorating the barren landscape. As nice as it was to return to his own mind, he wouldn't find what he was looking for here. He needed to go deeper.

Tim ventured further, deeper into this body’s mind. The scene around him warping, lights and images flashing by, passing through the layers of Drake's mind before everything turned pitch black. Distantly, he could hear words he felt he could just make out, but he knew he never would. It was always like this, seeing things you felt you could remember if you had some more time and hearing what you would never understand.

Tim had only been here a handful of times, the Professor warning him not to linger too long, else he’ll become trapped. The unconscious mind was always dangerous for an esper, though Tim trusted in his strength. Looking for Drake’s core wouldn't be easy, but it wasn’t impossible either.

Tim sent out waves of his ability, searching for the densest portion of Drake’s mind. That's usually where he found people when he was perusing their minds. He felt it when a small tendril bumped into what he was looking for. Tim followed the tendril, relieved that Drake wasn't pushed out when Tim had entered his body. He was led to a small red orb, small enough to cup into his hands. Retracting the rest of his tendrils, he lightly brushed over the red orb with his finger.

He was always hesitant to do this part, the orb was a very personal part of Drake, meant for nobody's eyes besides who it belonged to. But he needed to see how Drake was affected by this ordeal. It was dangerous for Drake to be housing such a powerful mind like his, especially since he had the constitution of a baseline human. Even for mutants, it was dangerous, but even more so for Drake. If Tim hadn’t unconsciously suppressed his power the moment he woke up in his body, his powers would have steadily melted Drake’s brain. Tim has seen other espers do as such when they controlled others bodies and he didn't want to do such a thing to Drake. It would be a horrible experience for both of them.

Tim pushed his power into the top layer of the orb, cautious not to go in too deep. Even if he just skimmed the top layer, it was an invasion of Drake’s privacy. He received feedback quickly, the red orb swirling sluggish, flashes of Drake's thoughts and feelings flowing into him.

It seemed that Drake’s mind had immediately gone into shock the moment Tim was shoved into his body and shut down to preserve itself. From what he was getting, Drake wouldn’t remain in this state for long, the orb was already more active than it should have been in this situation. He predicts Drake will wake up in around a day, two at the latest.

Reassured that Drake would be fine, Tim ascended to his own mind, taking the time to relax, if only for a little while. He had quite the day, after all, he deserved a little break.

He only noticed it minutes later, a shimmering green thread that blended in with the lights in the sky. Tim knew his mind in and out, and that hadn't been there before today. He guarded his mind furiously and would never let anyone but a select few in. He stood up and reached for it, pausing right before he touched it.

What if this was a trap from another mutant, meant to poison his mind? He ruled that out immediately. The only mutants that he's been around recently that would be able to do this were Jean and the Professor, and he didn’t believe they would ever try to hurt him.

He had examined his mind only three days before and everything was normal. The only reason this thread could be here was… the dimension travel. This could be a connection to his original body! Tim plucked the string excitedly, only to be violently thrown back to the physical realm. Tim felt lightheaded as he stumbled over to the bathroom and puked his guts out.

He gently laid his head on the bowl of the toilet, trying to catch his breath, the cold tile letting him organize his thoughts. He was being too emotional when he decided on touching the connection. He should have taken the time to think about it, then test it. It wasn't only Tim being hurt, Drake was also in the line of fire. He sighed, he was lucky he suppressed his ability in the nick of time or Drake could have gotten hurt, or worse.

Once he was sure he wouldn't expel his stomach contents again, Tim stood up shakily and flushed the toilet, heading back to the bedroom. Grabbing a bottle of water from the mini-fridge, he flopped onto the bed, taking a moment to recover. That was a close call, the civilian lifestyle had really softened him. He would have known better before he took a break from being a vigilante.

A knock sounded at the door, “You okay in there, chum?” A deep voice spoke, muffled from behind the thick wood. He must have been pretty out of it if he couldn't sense B’s presence, it was quite distinctive.

“I'm fine, B. Trying to research here.” Tim pitched his voice, whining pitifully. He didn't have the energy to deal with any of the vigilantes.

A small laugh seeped through the door, "I'll leave you at it then. Make sure to sleep today, okay?" Tim heard the faint footsteps recede. He let out a breath. He really wasn't in a state to interact with the others.

After a couple of minutes, Tim sat up, taking a quick sip of his water and grabbing the thin computer. He had a computer to crack and a world to investigate.

Tim subtly observed the family while he idly fiddled with his laptop, sitting across the living room from them. They were spread out around the room, Damian curled up on a couch scribbling away on his sketchbook as Richard—he went by Dick, strangely enough—chatted away next to him. Bruce sat in an armchair parallel to them, seemingly engrossed in a book, though Tim could tell he was paying attention to his children. Jason was on the other armchair, near the loveseat Tim settled himself on, also sporting a book in his hands. Duke sat beside him, entertaining himself with a handheld telephone.

Tim relocated himself to the parlor when he realized the family of vigilantes were in here, debating whether or not to entrust the vigilantes with his situation. On one hand, they deserved to know this was happening to Drake, he was their family member. On the other, he didn't truly know them and their capabilities, they could harm him. Even though the nap he took earlier helped, he still wasn’t at full power, not that he could use his full power without hurting Drake. His powers were a layer of protection for him. If they figured out a power dampener could affect him, then that protection would be stripped away.

It had become increasingly obvious that the longer he had surfed the web last night that his theory was right, this wasn’t his world. This world housed aliens. Aliens! One had even written a book about his late home planet. Not to mention the gods and goddesses or the existence of magic. This world also had a lot more villains than his, and natural disasters. The list of natural disasters caused because of villains were off the chart. It seemed that the only thing between this world and its demise were the heroes. It was absolutely ridiculous, Tim sighed.

Not even the date was the same. The day before, in his world, it was mid-April 1983. Here, it was August 2023! He was slingshotted forward in space and time. It was no wonder the technology was so advanced, he really was in the future.

He had searched the vigilantes up last night, they were pretty famous, especially Bruce Wayne. He was affiliated with a worldwide team, the Justice League as his alter ego Batman. One of the leading members, actually. They were composed of nearly a hundred heroes spread across the globe, dealing with apocalyptic disasters at least three times each year. Tim was almost jealous of all the heroes in this world before he remembered the world ending disasters they had to deal with. His world only had the X-Men, some individual vigilantes scattered around, and the Brotherhood, which he doesn't think really counts. It technically was a terrorist group, even if they had good intentions for mutants.

While the other vigilantes were not as famous, they were still pretty well respected. Dick was one of the youngest heroes that debuted, appearing nearly 18 years ago under the title Robin. There were rumored to be three Robins after Dick graduated to Nightwing. Tim had heard the most recent Robin over the comms last night and was sitting across the room from him, also known as Damian Wayne from what he connected from the photos lying around the mansion and the few images of Robin online. His stature, skin color, and hairstyle were very obvious indicators that he was Robin if you knew what you were looking for. He was a small thing, not old enough to engage in vigilantism, in Tim’s opinion. Why the rest of the family let him out was a mystery to Tim.

From what he could find online and encrypted on certain files from the computers in the cave, Drake was the third Robin after the second died. The second Robin being a notorious crime lord, the Red Hood. There was probably history between the vigilantes and the second Robin, Jason Todd, for him to turn into a crime lord after being a vigilante previously. Though it seemed that they had gotten past their differences for him to be allowed on the comms, he was bantering and joking around with the rest. Tim did wonder how he came back from death, though.

Many of the other heroes had the same problem of being unable to stay in their graves. Even the civilians couldn't stay dead, mass resurrections bringing many back to life. With magic being common enough in this world, Tim supposed it wasn't too hard to bring people back from the afterlife. Although, Jason’s could have been faked.

Jason had died not too long after Batman made a stable connection with the Justice League. With Batman's paranoid nature, Tim doubted he would bring magic users into Jason’s death. He would more likely keep it to himself and not concern the Justice League with his personal business.

He found the two women in the images scattered around the mansion to be Cassandra Cain-Wayne and Stephanie Brown, Black Bat and Spoiler respectively, though they both tend to switch to Batgirl at times. They weren’t on patrol yesterday, or if they were, he didn't hear them. Tim was interested in Cassandra, wondering why she seemed so familiar before remembering she was a student that regularly dwelled in the mansion. If he remembered correctly, she was taken back to the mansion by Xavier himself a couple years ago.

At some point, Bruce adopted or fostered almost all the vigilantes in Gotham. The four Robins, excluding Damian since he was directly related to Bruce, plus Black Bat were adopted. Signal, or Duke Thomas, became a ward of Bruce after his parents were deemed unfit to raise him. Only Stephanie Brown and Barbara Gordon, the first Batgirl, weren’t adopted or fostered, remaining family friends to the Wayne's.

It was funny, the little boy he met not too long ago being one of the top heroes, surrounded others just like him. It shouldn't have been that shocking, especially with how enamored little Bruce was with the fact Tim was a detective. He amassed quite a large family, but it was at the price of his parent’s lives. He bit his lip, when he returned he would make sure such a thing wouldnt happen.

Tim settled into another position, making himself slightly more comfortable, and turned his attention back to the laptop, absentmindedly tracking their emotions. While he could have lifted most of the information he found from Drake’s mind and made it easier for himself, he didn't want to mess with Drake’s psyche any further. The situation they were in was unheard of and he wouldn't know how additional meddling would affect Drake.

A new presence lurked closer to the room, Tim doubted anyone else noticed when she entered, she was very light on her feet. She sat herself down next to him, her curiosity drifted over to him. He nodded at her in greeting when he caught her eye and turned his attention back to Drake’s laptop, hoping she wouldn't start a conversation just yet. There was still a lot he hadn't uncovered about Drake and his family. Drake had masterfully set protections to his laptop, cracking them was an interesting experience for Tim.

He felt a poke against his sternum, a question following, “Who are you?”

Tim blinked, turning to Cassandra. He blinked, how had she figured him out already? This was their first meeting. Distantly, he could sense a myriad of confusion saturating the room. The sound of a pencil scratching and pages being flipped stopped.

Cassandra stared at him, face serious. Tim tentatively brushed his ability against her, ignoring the pain, feeling her confidence that he wasn’t Drake. While he expected to be outed—he didn't think he could really act as Drake without being caught—he didn't think it would be so soon. He thought he would have more time and be the one telling them that he wasn't Drake.

“How do you know I'm not him?” Tim asked curiously, tilting his head. So far, he hasn't really been around the others, this being his first time. The only exception being Bruce, but even that wasn’t more than 10 minutes. The others in the room tensed.

“You act differently. Walking and talking unlike Tim.” She parsed out. Tim licked his lips. He hadn't considered his gait to expose him. Then again, there really was nothing he could have done to match how Drake walked. He wondered if this Cassandra was also an empath.

“This is our first time meeting, when did you see me walking?” He closed the laptop, ignoring the alarm radiating from the others.

“The suit records.” She answered, more than a little amused, but that didn't overshadow her unease. She didn't like that a stranger was posing as her brother, he concluded.

“Oh.” He should have known that the suits had cameras. Had it been him, he also would have added any recording equipment he could for evidence. Tim didn't doubt that she also pulled a recording from the cave. If it didn't have cameras every couple of feet, he would eat his boots, the extraordinary bedazzled ones he was jokingly gifted in fact.

“Who are you?” A deep voice asked. Bruce stood tense a few steps away from him, his eyes flitting once to Cassandra and back to him. The man could be stealthy when he wanted, Tim hadn't even heard him move, a stark contrast to his child self. Behind him, Dick and Damian also stood. Jason’s hand was placed in his back pocket, obviously wielding a weapon, observing him with narrowed eyes.

Tim smiled blandly, simply saying, “Timothy Drake. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Cut the bullshit! Who are you really?” Jason spat, a gun in hand. Bruce looked displeased at the weapon but said nothing, his eyes not leaving Tim.

“Not lying.” Cassandra said quietly. Many looks of surprise were leveled at him and Cassandra.

“I am Timothy Drake, just not one you've met before. I suspect dimension travel.” Tim explained. A flurry of words and numbers were spat from Bruce’s mouth, none making sense to Tim. It was probably a code, one that a Tim Drake from another world would presumably know. They were expectant despite their stoic faces. Unfortunately for them, they wouldn't get the answer they wanted.

“Sorry, no idea what that code is supposed to mean.” He shrugged. There was a bit of disappointment before it swiftly turned into suspicion.

“What did you do to Drake? Where is he?” Damian asked, a furrow in his brow, clenching a small dagger he pulled from somewhere. He was obviously worried about Drake, he would be concerned too if a stranger took over his sibling’s body.

“He’s up here, no need to worry.” Tim tapped his temple, softening his words for the young boy.

“He’s still in there? Can he hear us? ” Jason questioned, palming his gun.

“I didn't throw him out of this body, if that's what you're asking.” Tim answered. “And he’s just asleep for now. He should wake up soon.”

“How soon?” Cassandra peered closer, staring at his eyes as if she would see Drake through them.

“Give him a day or so. Maybe two.” Tim estimated, leaning back. Cassandra was getting far too close for comfort.

“How did you get here? Why did you take over Tim’s body?” Bruce spoke again in a demanding tone.

“You're saying that as if I wanted to be here, surrounded by strangers.” Tim deadpanned, focussing on Bruce’s second question. He knows that Bruce is just protective over Drake, but he couldn't stand being talked at like that. A soft caress against his arm made him pause, Cassandra looking at him urgingly, her desire for a peaceful encounter and the love she felt for her family filling the space.

He pursed his lips, taking a breath to calm down. This interrogation would get worse if he was agitated. He knew how annoying he could get when he was spiteful.

“Strangers?” Dick asked, surprised. In fact, the others all emitted surprise even if it didn't show on their faces. He knew that they encountered versions of themselves from other dimensions, the evidence being the code, but was it so surprising that he had never met versions of them before?

“I've never met any of you before, well, except for Bruce. Why’s that so surprising?” Tim crossed his arms, leaning slightly harder on the cushion behind him.

“The other Drakes that came here before you all knew of us.” Damian responded with a huff. Jason and Dick hummed in agreement. Duke finally spoke, asking, “Wait, you only met Bruce? No one else?” Why were they so hung on that?

“Bruce is the only one I've met face to face, but the one I met is very different to him.” Tim jutted his chin towards Bruce. “There is a Cassandra in my world, but I only know of her. I never encountered her personally.”

“How different can he be, it's Bruce.” Jason drawled, a sour, bitter feeling wafted from him with surprising strength. Seems like there was still some discontent within their relationship.

“In my world, hes a child and nothing like this.” Tim gestured towards Bruce, trying to fully encompass his dour disposition without words. A brief, stunned silence filled the room. Damian steered the conversation back, questioning him with a deep frown, “How long have you been in Drake’s body?”

“It's only been a day. I woke up in the middle of the fight with the Riddler.” He replied, drumming his fingers on his thighs.

“How did you get here?” Bruce repeated, stepping closer to Tim. Tim frowned, not liking his accusatory tone. The urge to bite back flared but a small nudge from Cassandra reminded him to calm down. He always did have a bit of a temper.

“How do I know you're trustworthy?” Tim shot back. He wouldn't tell them anything unless he knew he could trust them. Even if they were vigilantes, that didn't mean they were reliable. He’s come across many vigilantes who didn't have the best characters.

“You're in our brother’s body. We can't attack you without also hurting him.” Jason answered bluntly. While that made a compelling argument, it wasn't enough.

“And if I find a way out? You’ll hurt me then?” Tim narrowed his eyes.

“How do we know you are trustworthy?” Dick threw his question back at him. “How do we know you are who you say you are?”

Tim chewed on his lips, beginning to respond before Dick continued.

“Just as you have no way of knowing if we speak truthfully, we also have no guarantee you're doing the same. We are heroes,” Dick gestured towards his fellow vigilante, “and we help people no matter what. For us to help you, we need to all be willing to communicate as best as we can. After all, you are only as good as your word, no?” Dick said, a bit forcefully, though softened at the end, staring imploringly at Tim.

That's true, there wasn't much they could do right now that would make him trust them and vice versa. But he still had his reservations about them. “I've met heroes who weren't such good people, so that's not really as good of a point you think it is.”

If he declined to share why he was in Drake’s body, worst case scenario, they would attack him and he would be outnumbered. Best case scenario, they would lock him up until they found a way to bring Drake back in control. If he did trust them, he could receive the resources to get home. They did have connections to a team that resided in all parts of the world.

Tim thought over his options for a moment, thinking on which choice he was willing to take. He looked at Cassandra, she quietly looked back at him, waiting for him to make his decision. He would just have to take a leap of faith, Tim sighed.

“Coming here was an accident.” Tim revealed, deciding to only explain the bare bones of his situation. “This,” he gestured to Drake’s body, “was the result of a mutant unable to control his ability.”

“Mutant?” Bruce asked, his voice lowering. The shift in his presence was almost tangible with how quickly it changed.

“Someone who possesses the X-gene. It gives them powers, basically.” Bruce’s face relaxed a smidge, his presence lightening.

“That is just a meta.” Damian said, his eyebrow raising. “His ability is to travel between dimensions, then?”

“Most likely. This is the first time he's done something like this, we believed he only had teleportation. He’d been having issues with his abilities before this happened. It's why I was even there, to help him with his abilities.” Tim answered.

“Abilities, plural? How many does he have?” Jason finally dropped his gun, leaning towards Tim. The others seemed curious too. Was it that surprising that Elijah had multiple abilities?

“Yes? He has—” Tim paused, counting them on his fingers before he spoke,“—around four? Five? And those are just the ones we know about. He only manifested them recently, so the lack of control isn't surprising.” He looked up from his fingers, surprise and apprehension clouding the air of the room. Tim tilted his head slightly, confused at their reactions. Sure, a mutant with that many abilities isn't common, but they aren’t rare either. Maybe that was different in this world?

“We? Who else is there?” Jason raised his eyebrow.

“The school…” Tim began hesitantly, he wasn’t really sure if he wanted to expose it, but then again, it was in another dimension. They would have a hard time accessing it to begin with, not to mention with the X-Men protecting it. “It's for the protection and teaching of mutants about their abilities. It also serves as a regular school as well.”

“Did you attend?” Cassandra asked at the same time Dick said, “Protecting them from what?”

“I graduated some time ago.” Tim addressed Cassandra before focusing on Dick, “And there are a lot of Anti-Mutant laws and hate groups going around. That happens when the public's first exposure to mutants was one trying to assassinate the president.”

“They tried to kill the president?! Why?” Duke looked vaguely horrified, and so did the others.

“Beats me.” Tim shrugged, lying through his teeth. He studied the first mutant exposure thoroughly, there's no way he wouldn't with the Professor being involved. It would have taken too long to explain in full why Magneto and Mystique did what they did. “I was just a kid then.”

“How did he pull you into this dimension? And why were you asked to help him?” Dick steered the subject back on track.

“He trapped himself in his mind and I was the only other person available to help him. Simple as that.” Tim spoke haltingly. “Are we done with the 20 questions? I need to find a way back home.”

“What do you mean by—?” Damian started before getting cut off.

“We have to run some tests. Follow me.” Bruce said abruptly, standing up and walking out of the door. The others stood up too, Cassandra skipping over to Damian and guiding him forward with her hand on his shoulder, a scowl on his face. It was a reasonable request, he would also want to test what the effects were if someone possessed his family member’s body. He followed the group, Jason walking behind him.

“Sooo…” Dick started, slowing down to walk level with him, swinging his arms. “You truly never met us before?”

“No, I haven't. Should I have?” Tim snarked, staring straight ahead. That was the third time he was asked that question. Were they really that surprised that an alternate version of Drake never met them? The multiverse was infinite, there were bound to be versions of himself that haven’t encountered them at all.

Dick laughed, waving his arms in denial. Behind them, Jason snorted quietly, murmuring something under his breath.

“How old are you anyway?” Dick asked, tugging a lock of hair behind his ear.

“Seventeen. Why?” Tim glanced over, slightly curious on where this was going.

“Just curious.” Dick answered casually. “Our Tim is twenty.” Tim had guessed Drake was around that age range, but it was nice to get a confirmation.

The group arrived at the office with the entrance to the cave, swinging the clock open and shuffling down the stairs. Even if it wasn't his first time looking at it, the cave still looked amazing. The stalagmites shimmered in the dim lightning, the rustle of bats flying between them could be heard.

Tim was led to another medical station, this one holding more advanced machinery and equipment, a large screen and processor lined the far wall of the room. The group settled near him as he sat down on a medical cot, Bruce shuffling through the cabinets deeper in the room. Damian and Dick sat on the chairs left to the cot, Jason preferring to lean on the wall next to the doorway. Cass claimed the foot of the cot, the closest to him and Bruce.

A brief silence settled over them after Bruce left the room with a subtle but pointed look towards Dick, Jason eventually breaking it, “So, kid, how are you holding up? I'm sure it's pretty strange, suddenly being in another dimension a couple years ahead of yours.”

“It’s 1983 where I’m from, not the 2000s. And I'm not a kid, I just want to go back to my dimension quickly.” Tim replied, looking at his feet. He shifted in his cot as he felt the emotions in the room go to surprise and amusement.

“Woah, you're ancient.” Jason said humorously, a smirk gracing his lips. Tim leveled him with an unamused stare. Dick smiled widely as Damian let out an amused huff.

“Old-timer.” Cassandra teased, earning her a glare from Tim.

“No wonder he knew Bruce as a kid.” Duke added, eyes crinkled from his smile.

“Are you guys not going to introduce yourselves?” Tim questioned. Jason glanced at him, slightly amused. “Don't you already know our names?”

“I do, but it would be polite, no?” Tim smiled back. The rest of the room had various reactions of amusement, Damian and Cassandra smiling slightly as Jason and Dick laughed. Duke simply rolled his eyes.

Dick smiled at Tim before introducing them, “The one in the black turtleneck,” Damian nodded in greeting, “—is Damian. Jason is the one standing.” Jason gave a small wave. “Cass is the one sitting next to Damian.” She gave him a nod. He rested his hand over his chest and finished with, “And I'm Dick!”

“What about the old man? Bruce? The other two vigilantes?” Tim tilted his head, curious.

“The ‘old man’ is Alfred Pennyworth. He is the one who keeps everyone in check.” Damian primly responded. “Father’s name is Bruce Wayne.” Cassandra signed the name next to him.

Jason pulled out a phone and swiped at the screen before showing it to Tim. “The one in purple, Spoiler, is Steph. Batwing, Luke, is the one with the wings. Obvious, I know.” He joked.

Bruce reentered the room, holding an assortment of equipment. Setting them down on the table next to the cot, he held up a small syringe, gesturing for Tim’s arm. Tim blanched but complied, ready to get this over with. He only felt a small pinch as the needle entered the crook of his arm, it was removed a few seconds later, filled with his blood. Bruce simply placed a surprisingly cute yellow bandage with mini bats over the puncture.

The rest of the tests were quite non-invasive, mostly consisting of scanning him and simple examinations. It was as if Tim was visiting the doctors for a checkup. The younger vigilantes kept him company throughout the tests, chatting casually with him from time to time. He wasn't under any illusions that it was for him, they were just monitoring a threat that was in their home.

Still… It was nice, just sitting down and chatting with others for a change. He didn't really have time before that, going from case to case and rarely visiting the mansion. Tim felt a little guilty, neglecting his friends in favor of his new job as a detective wasn't right. He’ll have to make it up to them, as soon as he goes back, he promised.

Tim noticed that Bruce had repeated some of the tests after a while, coming back to redo his scans after checking over the machine that it was connected to. From what he could tell from his angle, the screens on the machine displayed a large, yellow popup, though he couldn't read what it said. Was there something wrong with the equipment? Or was the residue of Elijah’s power messing with the results?

Dick walked out the room with an excuse of getting a drink for all of them. There was a small surge of determination and affirmation between them that caught him off guard. Tim doubted he would have caught the look shared between them if he couldn't feel their emotion.

When Dick reentered the room, he indeed had drinks, passing around bottles of fruit juice. Tim popped open the cap of his mango juice, taking small sips as he quietly watched the group converse with each other. The atmosphere in the room was nice, if a bit guarded. He felt a new presence arrive suddenly but dismissed it, believing it to be another vigilante.

“How many of you guys are there, anyway?” Tim wondered. There was just one after the other with them.

“Oh, there’s us—” Dick gestured towards the group, “—so that's six already. There's also Steph, Barbara, Kate, Luke, and sometimes Azrael. So, in total eleven.”

“Wow, that's… a lot. Just for one city?” What warranted eleven vigilantes for only one city?

“Yup. Gotham might be a shithole, but she’s all we got.” Jason answered gruffly, fondness coloring his tone.

The presence Tim had felt earlier came closer until they rounded the corner, entering the room. They were draped in a dark robe, ending just above their pale calf. The hood shadowed their face, the robe obscured their figure, making it harder for Tim to figure out whether they were male or female. The figure walked over to talk with Bruce, their back to him.

Tim turned towards Dick, silently asking who that was. Dick gave him a strained smile,“This is Raven. She’s here to confirm your story.”

Tim wasn’t really surprised that Dick had called someone to verify his story, he would have done the same. He just wished he was told some time before she arrived.

“So she’s also here to interrogate me?” Tim frowned, crossing his arms. Dick winced, explaining, “Not quite, she’ll be checking whether Tim is still in his body.”

“Excuse me?” Tim was slightly offended, they wanted some stranger to poke around in his head?

“We couldn't be certain you were speaking truthfully. Or if there are certain pitfalls in your mind that would cause you to hurt us. We’ve dealt with that before and it wasn’t pretty.” Dick said apologetically. Even if it was a reasonable reaction, it still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Raven moved to remove her hood, the sight beneath freezing Tim in place. A copy of Jean’s face laid under the hood, only small differences setting her apart from Jean. On her pale skin, a jewel was inlaid on Raven’s forehead. Her hair and eyes were a deep violet, glowing slightly in the light. He knew that this was a different dimension and that, logically, there would be other versions of his friends, Cassandra being just one example. He hadn’t expected to face one so soon. Raven’s curiosity ballooned the longer Tim stared at her.

“You know her or somethin’?” Jason spoke, looking between the two. The other four were also interested in his response.

“Or something. She looks just like my friend.” Tim answered as he finally stopped examining Raven’s face, clasping his hands together.

“Is that so?” Raven said, even her voice was similar to Jean’s. She walked closer until she stood right in front of him. “I’ll be starting now.”

She kneeled down, her robes pooling over her lower body as their faces aligned. He felt her ability brush over him and hit his mental walls. Her abilities felt completely different from Jean’s, icy cold to Jean’s warmth. The way it flowed differed from Jean’s too. Raven’s swirled gracefully in nonsensical patterns, while Jean’s resembled liquid fire. Even if Raven’s outer appearance looked like Jean, that didn't mean she was.

She blinked in surprise at his resistance. He hadn't told the vigilantes much about his ability, so it wasn’t too surprising. She should know, as a person with a mental ability, that those with such abilities guard their minds tightly. While it could be strong against outsiders, one good hit inside a mindscape would cause great harm.

“Won’t you let me in?” She asked softly. Tim narrowed his eyes before letting out a breath, unbundling the protections in his mind as he lowered most of his shields. Even if he was rightfully wary of letting a stranger in his mind, he wouldn't be able to use his full power to defend himself against her attempts.

She slid into his mind before once more hitting a wall. He resisted her attempts to break into that last shield before he spoke, “Wait!” The room paused, the others wondering what he would say. “Shouldn’t we agree on what exactly she will look for? Or at least filled me in first?” He directed the last question to Dick who gave him a sheepish smile and scratched his head.

“She’ll be looking for evidence that you were honest about taking over Tim’s body and how he's fairing.” Bruce responded, stepping closer to the pair of espers. That was reasonable. He was just double-checking what Tim told him.

He chewed his lips before spitting out, “Nothing five minutes before I entered this body, got it?”

“Of course.” She answered, gently sinking into his mind when he lowered his last defenses. Tim also closed his eyes, reappearing in his mindscape, the icy wind picking up as Raven materialized before him. She looked around, giving him a reassuring smile when she turned to him. He could feel the promise to not hurt him emanating from her. Her power swelled as her hands began to glow, spreading her ability in search of his memory of the day before. He guided her ability with his own, bringing her to a cave carved into a distant mountainside.

The cave was dimly lit, snow piling up at the entrance. The center held a clear underground lake which he delved his ability into, the lake’s serene surface rippling before changing into his memories of being in Elijah’s mind. He knelt down at the edge of the lake, gesturing for Raven to do the same. Once she did, he grabbed her hand and submerged them both into the lake with a shout of surprise from Raven.

He opened his eyes, the scene of him and Jean attacking the nebula together spreading before him. Raven studied the surrounding scene, weaving her ability into the fabric of the scene, looking for any falsehoods. Once she was satisfied, he saw the exact moment she finally focused on the previous forms of him and Jean, radiating surprise despite her face showing otherwise.

She turned to him, stating surely, “This is the one you mistook me as.”

Tim nodded. They looked astonishingly alike and yet were extremely different, down to the way they felt. Jean was like a warm ray of sunlight and Raven an icy glacier, polar opposites. Raven hummed and turned back to the scene, watching it play out to the point he woke in Drake’s body.

“Would you be willing to guide me to Black Bird?” She asked, not wanting to infringe on his mind when he could resist her. It was a common courtesy to ask when in another esper’s mind, though he couldn't be sure if it was the same in this world.

He held out his hand and she grasped it, closing his eyes again as they sunk beneath his mindscape. The distant whispering caused him to open his eyes to pitch black, though he could still see Raven. She seemed unconcerned, most likely having been to the unconscious mind before or assured of her strength. It was probably a mix of both.

Tim pointed to a far off point, “He’s over there, you’ll know when you see him.”

Raven nodded in thanks and sent a wave of her ability in that direction, tilting her head after a moment. He felt her ability recede before she began walking, approaching the red orb after a moment. She lightly brushed her fingers over it, doing the same he had done the day before. After finding her assessment of Drake’s core satisfactory, she faced him, a small smile on her face.

“I'm glad that you are who you say you are.” Yeah, so is he, Tim thought sarcastically. Though he did understand where she was coming from. She let out a quiet chuckle, giving him an amused look. They returned to Tim’s mindscape, the pool at their feet.

“What is her name?” Raven asked, looking at the memory. Tim looked at Jean’s figure, the memory looping back to the beginning.

“Her name was Jean, Jean Grey. She’s one of the few people I truly respect.”

“Later,” Raven began, “Will you tell me about her?”

“If you wish me to. I would be willing to get to know you also.” He was curious about her and how her life strayed from the one Jean had. She was an alternate of Jean, so had to give her a chance.

Raven agreed before retreating from his mind, the last tendrils of her ability going with her. He did one last sweep of his mindscape, noting nothing was off except the glowing tether to his original body, and exited.

Opening his eyes, he was faced with Drake’s family surrounding him and Raven. Raven leaned back, their foreheads no longer touching, and nodded to the family.

“He was being truthful. Black Bird is unconscious but will wake soon.” Raven reported. They noticeably relaxed, relieved. He felt a small piece of her ability brush against the outer layer of his mind, Raven expressing that she would be by soon. After he nodded in affirmation, she stood, walking over to talk with Dick and Bruce.

“Well, that's out of the way now.” Jason said nonchalantly. He detached himself from the wall he was leaning on and sat on the cot, next to Tim. Cassandra laid her feet over Jason’s lap with a grin. Jason lightly swatted her feet before ignoring her.

“I would have appreciated a warning.” Tim deadpanned, eyebrow raised.

“We couldn't have you preparing yourself until she came.” Damian remarked, eyeing him with interest. He looked relaxed, not quite as tense as before. Tim hummed, looking over to the trio talking at the doorway.

They were clearly at the end of their conversation, Raven splitting away from the pair with a goodbye. She glanced back, making eye contact with him, and waved. After he returned the wave, she vanished with a flash of purple. Huh, Jean definitely couldn't do that. If she did, he was sure he would have heard of it.

Dick and Bruce returned, Dick sitting in the chair next to Damian while Bruce placed the testing equipment to where they were previously, leaning on the chair Dick was sitting on when he was finished.

"So what should we call you? I can’t keep calling you other-Tim in my head." Dick began, tapping his fingers against his thighs. The others nodded in agreement.

“I don't mind being called by a nickname. I call this Tim ‘Drake’ after all.” Tim replied. He really couldn't care less what they referred to him as.

“Any preferences?” Dick asked, a gleam forming in his eyes.

“None.” He saw Damian and Jason grimacing at his answer. Cassandra silently giggled in the background. What was that about?

“How about… Timmykins.” Dick cooed teasingly. Tim physically recoiled from that atrocity of a nickname. Suddenly, he understood what their reactions were about.

“No!” Tim quickly shouted. His pride would never recover if he was referred to as that. He couldn't even think it, that was how bad it was.

“I thought you had no preferences.” Dick blinked innocently, as if he didn’t say a nickname that curdled his blood. Tim huffed at that, a little amused. Dick was clearly livening up the room, making jokes, even if said jokes sucked.

“Then what about—” Jason joined in on the fun, mirth filling the room.

They spent some time going through options on what Tim would be called, even Bruce and Damian contributed some names. They eventually settled simply on Timmy, though he doubted Jason and Dick would stick to it. They would definitely cycle through a myriad of nicknames. He could admit that he had some fun, spending time with them and debating over the nickname. Perhaps he would enjoy his time with these strange characters during his stay in this world.

Takes place before Dark Phoenix and after X-Men: Apocalypse

Kind of a silly concept but i'm having fun with it :)

[Edited: 07/26/2024]

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