He was dreaming.
At least, he thinks so?
There’s no point in his memories that would explain why he’d be wandering this cave without a thought in his head, at least. He would come across a branching path and, without pausing to consider the best option or finding any clues as to what path he might be choosing, would pick one at random to follow.
Now, don’t get him wrong. If he were in this cave of his own volition, he probably be taking pictures of the scenery. Underground lakes, natural lime and rock structures, even quartz the size of Bruce - it was breathtaking to behold. Were he really in a cave and not in a dream. There was enough supernatural in the world that Tim was taking careful notes of what he saw in the back of his mind.
When he woke up, he’d write it all down and see if someone could find meaning in it. If they could, great. If not, even better.
For the first time, his dream self paused before passing a threshold. On the other side was nothing special, Tim could even believe it was just another chamber of the Batcave. After passing all those beautiful sights, the chamber was underwhelming. But there were no paths out other than the one he’d come from.
His dream self shuffled forward, feet - had he been walking without shoes the whole time? Definitely a dream then - brushing the rock floor hesitantly as he quietly approached a column on the opposite side. It was a thick column, it’d been forming for several hundreds of years clearly, and hid whatever his dream self approached.
Stepping around it brought Tim up short, startling him enough that even his dream self paused to stare. There was a skeleton. Of a Victorian vampire, perhaps, based on the teeth and clothing. The skeleton even had the remains of what must’ve been a cape. Several of the visible bones were broken, the skull caved in, and an eye socket malformed from either injury or deterioration. Tim didn’t exactly pay attention to what his parents would say about archaeology, to be fair.
What was noteworthy, though - the vampire had been gripping something tightly when they’d… passed? Something wrapped in thick fabric, clenched in fingers even now that they were nothing but bone.
Logically, Tim wasn’t going to do anything about that.
Illogically, Dream!Tim decided he must have the cloth-covered object.
Tim watched in muted horror as his hand reached out, snapping old bones to get to the fabric. Surprisingly, nothing happened despite the desecrated skeleton and Dream!Tim retrieved the object with no further protest. Turning the object over in his hands, Dream!Tim found a spot he could use to open up the fabric, which he did with haste.
Leaving Tim holding an uneven orb. The orb was glowing a soft blue, the surface jagged as though it were an uncarved piece of ice - the snow flurries Tim could see inside of it were mesmerizing. It was beautiful. It seemed fragile. It was clearly magic.
Tim didn’t give a damn.
Tucking the orb into his pocket (was he in his pajamas?), Tim took another look at the skeleton he’d just taken from and took a quick step back upon realizing the vampire’s head was now tilted back instead of forward, watching Tim without eyes. No, watching Tim’s pocket. Tim’s new treasure.
He’d be damned if he let that dried up vampire have his new core. (Core?)
The skeleton began the arduous process of shambling to its feet but Tim was quicker, leaving the chamber and racing back the way he’d come.
—
Tim woke up with a gasp, his heart racing like he’d done an ill-prepared solo patrol directly after an Arkham breakout. Again. Wildly looking around him, Tim began relaxing upon seeing his bedroom. With his blackout curtains, he’d need his phone to check what time it was, but he wasn’t concerned.
Honestly, he wanted some more sleep.
So he turned on his side to return to dream world… or, well, that was the plan.
He had a sneaking suspicion that the fist-sized rock in his pocket, putting pressure on his hip, was going to ruin that plan.
