Tim Drake doesn't age. Or rather he couldn't? This was not a concious decision that he made. As time went on everyone around him seemed to keep ageing, just not him. But also, whose choice is it for anyone to end up as an unaging sixteen-year-old vigilante? The adventures that Young Justice got up to were always wild. So what if he accidentally forgot about this one mission they had in space on a random planet? In distant memory he could recall a mission in which they saved a group of aliens from a weird pseudo-god cult, but it never truly stood out to him.
It was a standard mission by all means- infiltration followed by destruction. There was nothing that really stood out to Tim, in the fight between Young Justice and the cults ordinariate. When the head priest asked him if he was ready to ascend beyond his mortal shell, which most definitely was code for "you guys are about to die in an acid pit" Tim didn't think twice when replying "I'm actually satisfied staying as I am, but thanks for asking dickbag". Of course the fight ensued and they won, hell, it wasn't even a challenge. An important detail about that fight that had slipped Tim's mind, was the fact that one of the priests had cursed him to "Forever be stuck as you are, Robin" after his less-than-nice interruption of their ritual.
But you can't really blame Tim for that, now can you? He was constantly involved with the likes of the Joker and Riddler (read every other Rouge in Gotham) so he was used to random, crazy babbling during fights and learned to drown insults and curses out. How could he have knows that, that specific curse and priest were the real deal when their investigation revealed the fact that homicidal maniac's were running the Cult, and most of their prophecies and talk of spiritual ascendence via acid pit were bogus? Oh how he wished he knew then what kind of trouble this mission brought him... but it was pretty much a one-and-done thing. Young Justice finished their mission, returned home a few days later, wrote their mission reports, and then split ways to get some rest. The issue was; Tim couldn't rest and did not understand why. And thus began the arguably most confusing year of his life.
Seemingly every time he was out of costume and mask he felt a sense of dread and nausea building, like he was standing on ledge. He was familiar with the feelings of fear and anxiety but this was different. While his mind was completely calm, his body went ice-cold and began to tremor and that familiar small anxiety swoop in his stomach felt like a permanent knot. And it only got worse the longer he was out as a civilian. Around the ten-hour mark the symptoms turned from bad to worse: The throwing up, headaches and fever went from manageable to debilitating. And for some reason any medical checks he went through told him he was completely fine. And after the school nurse, and (mainly) Alfred, had told him that there simply wasn't anything wrong with him, he had just accepted that this was just his life now.
So colour Tim surprised, that after 2 weeks of debilitating writhing pain, he had to go after Bruce for a Riddler related incident and suddenly, after putting on the Robin suit, the pain stopped. He tried convincing himself that it must have been something, anything , else that had magically alleviated the symptoms but no, after testing around for a while it turned out to be suit. But at this point he realized that beggars can't be choosers and if it actually helped him, Tim was willing to accept the fact that his psyche had officially decided to crap out on him. So he tried to implemented the suit into his every routine, even the one time Bruce benched him he had to apply the mask to sleep because he felt like he would wake up with the mother of all migraines in the morning otherwise. He was either in constant pain or in constant detective mode, so he never noticed the fact that he hadn't gotten a haircut in months, yet it had remained in that perfect and clean cut. Unnoticed his hair had not grown an inch. And neither had he.
His birthday passed without much fanfare. He woke up from a rough mission on the day of and was too busy with the report to notice. He forgot- and actually, everyone did. A few weeks after the fact he realised (and he would never admit it out loud) that everyone forgot it as well. C'mon, not even Cassie? Or Bart? Even Dick?
But life went on, it wasn't the first time someone or rather, everyone he knew, forgot his Birthday but it was even weirder when it happened again the following year. You would have thought everyone would make a bigger deal about the fact that he'd just turned 18. Also for some reason, nobody seemed to want to talk about the ordeal itself. When he asked Dick what he should plan for his eighteenth Birthday, he had just told Tim that he "still had time" and to "enjoy your teen years more", but Tim was sure that two weeks was not enough to plan a Drake-Wayne-worthy Party in any universe or to start "enjoying" his teens.
One fateful morning he woke up and while looking in the mirror realized that he couldn't remember when the last time was he had to shave and generally- why did he look really incredibly young for someone who just turned eighteen? At the beginning, he maybe had chalked it up to stress, but when he looked back at photos? He hadnât changed in years, his hair hadn't and neither had his face. His wounds healed, but they never scarred. Nothing had remained even of JJ. Did he re-dye his hair to black himself? Or was it Bruce and Alfred who did it? Aside from the hair, could scars like that even heal up this seamlessly? He tested it, once- cut his hand just enough for it to stay, in a moment of frustration and weakness, to prove that he was real. And it scarred- he was real and felt real and then his Birthday passed again and it was gone. The scar and even the awful buzzed haircut he had gotten to change things up, were gone. He was Reset to his 16 year old body like it was absolutely natural.
So when he finally remembered that mission and also the fucking curse they put on him, he quickly realised as easy as the wording was, it was a much more complex issue. He couldn't talk about it- very time he tried to, everyone around him just did. not. hear. him. or worse made some weird remark about what a good joke little Tim had made. And trust: yelling also did not help, Tim had tried. Yelling, putting notes and riddles everywhere and even leaving the mission report open on the computer. Nothing worked. And time went on. Tim got used to the fact that everyone kept insisting he was sixteen and looking sixteen and around the fifth time his Birthday passed he realised that maybe he was stuck like this forever. To watch everyone around him age and to forever remain in his teen body, wasn't the worst thing that could happen. He still had everyone, he would just have to get used to the increasingly larger Age Gap between him and his loved ones. But of course life would never be that easy for him, and that stupid curse would never let him live in peace. Slowly but surely his friends started to distance themselves from him and weirdly, get overly attached to- Dick?
In the beginning, it was jokes and small slips from his Friends, instead of his name or the usual "Rob" they called him "Robin". Then came what Tim called the avoidant phase, when he spoke to them they felt awkward, as if they hadn't been friends for years. Instead of bickering, their conversations were filled with awkward laughs and polite questions acting like they were strangers. It was as if Tim no longer belonged to them, as if he didn't fit into the dynamic anymore. And of course, he didn't, everyone kept ageing, just not him, and needless to say a bunch of 20-year-olds would rather not hang out with a sixteen-year-old, especially one that liked to tell them what to do. The only one still holding on to any of their shared memories was Kon, but Tim could tell he was holding on by the skin of his teeth.
Time continued to pass and so did Kon, and then his Parents. And oh, Bruce also died and to fully put the cherry on top of the metaphorical ice cream sundae: Dick gave Robin to Damian. Tim swore it was less of an ego or possession thing that made him so angry and disappointed. It was pure existential and raw fear. The Fact was that he simply couldn't survive if he wasn't Robin. The realization that even if he still had the suit, he was no longer Robin made him stagger. What other options did he have, Dick quite literally just cut his lifeline?
Fear, betrayal and rage couldn't even begin to express what Tim was feeling and so the life or death crisis brewing within him, as to, if he was to survive no longer being Robin kind of felt excusable in the grand scheme of things. When he had to leave Gotham- and with that, the last slithers of the Robin mantle still attached to him, it was rough, rougher than he had imagined and it left him with one singular option. If he wanted to save Bruce, he had to become a different type of Robin. And with that Red Robin was born- and surprisingly- it worked. Not very well at the beginning, with migraines plaguing him constantly, but it was a band-aid for the hole that was left in him and he'd rather have that, than nothing. Tim was left in a mood though, the only thing he had left was anger and migraines. And while an angry Tim was a force to be reconned with, a pissy Tim with a headache was not something anyone could put a handle on. Tim's anger fostered and brewed within him and he decided that if his life was to be blown apart he could only return the favour and quite literally decided to blow Ra's Al Gul's life apart.
And then on one fateful evening, after both he and Damian had become Robin, Tim sat surrounded by some Young Justice members, his brothers and a few of the Teen Titans, waiting for his name to come up. Like clockwork, they began talking about missions and compared anecdotes with the younger members, and like all the previous times they began to talk about missions that he led, without him ever being mentioned. They had been talking about Gotham Rouges and Dick was in a heated debate with Kon and Bart about whether Harley's reformation was to be trusted. And just after Dick explained Joker's involvement in Harleen Quinzel becoming Harley Quinn and all the gossip that accompanied that pair Kon asked a question Tim never thought would come up.
"While on the topic of acid vats, whatever happened to that curse they put on you, Nightwing?"
Dick just pursed his lips and looked at Kon with curiosity "What curse? When did someone curse me?"
"Come on, don't tell me you don't remember the mission! As Robin, like 8 years ago-"
"Let me stop you right there Buddy- I was Nightwing by then already, so you are asking the wrong Robin"
Kon stilled and looked at Dick in confusion "Wait what? I could have sworn it was you...So wait was it-Â Hood?"
Tim didn't dare to move an inch, if he spoke or breathed wrong the curse would kick in and an opportunity like this may never arise again. The conversation passed by him and he was afraid he might be dreaming. This was his golden opportunity, otherwise, he might forever be stuck like this. And just when Dick and Kon's debate got heated Tim's brain finally caught up to everything happening around him and he just blurted out "Red Hood was still presumed dead then." He knew his speaking up would incite a reaction, but when he finally lifted his gaze from his hands, everyone looked at Tim, with wide eyes.
"Wait no, but you are way too young for it to have been you? Eight years ago you would have been a baby. Like an actual child," Kon said sternly.
Tim took a deep breath in and looked Kon dead in the eyes, to confirm that, yes, the curse had not kicked in. And it also probably wouldn't as long as he didn't talk about himself being Robin, if he played this well. "Look, I don't think that Jason ever got out of Gotham much besides tagging along with B for Justice League activities, but I could be wrong." Dick's eyes were staring into him intently, and the wrinkle between his brows ran deep as he tried to come up with an explanation "That can't be true Tim. You must have been 8? You are turning 17 this year. It must have been someone else"
It took anything in Tim not to let his Hands tremble, he spoke up again with a clear voice "Well it wasn't Steph, we were in class together at the time and an absence would have killed her GPA-" Dick swiftly cut in before Tim could continue to speak, holding up a hand in Tim's direction "Kon, I need your full disclosure, what was the curse?" "The cult we busted was about spiritual ascendance so in a backwards way to like, stay yourself or something- It was a weird spiritual cult on an alien planet, okay? The details are blurry to me after almost a decade. The only thing I know for a fact is, that Robin infiltrated the ceremony and instead of dunking anyone in an acid pit, we shut the cult down" Kon tried to recall with a puzzled expression. Dick's eyes snapped to his younger brother, nobody but him and the other bats clearly noticed the panic in his voice "Tim?"
With all the Robins, former and current, now staring at him, he didn't know what to say. He had planned what he could do a thousand times, but he never got far enough with testing the boundaries of the curse to know what he could say and what would catapult him right back into the curse going active. He had to think, he had to do something, say something.
So he sat there, expressionless, looking at the floor and shrugged. Great Tim, what the hell was that
Dick's carefully composed expression cracked and revealed a flicker of genuine horror, his voice was cut and stern "Tim, can't you or won't you speak?"
Holy shit, this was actually happening!
Tim knew what the others were waiting for. Seeing it in their expressions, they knew something was wrong, but they needed confirmation, a codeword or contingency, to explain what exactly had happened to him because, of course, they had contingencies for that. He wished it was that easy, he had tried them, but none of them had worked, the curse made sure of that. He had to sit and wait for them to figure it out, unable to tell them directly. Tim had no idea what other option he had left at this point. His only option was to let them discover it, if he spoke a word out of line his chances of ever not being sixteen were gone with the wind.
Tim looked up, dodging the question "Neither you nor Jason were active members of Young Justice, but you can check your Logs to make sure"
For a second, Dick stumbled "The Logs yes- Kon! Are the Young Justice files on the League network?"
Kon, visibly unsettled nodded dully. "They should be. But I remember this- Robin was older, I swear-"
Dick wasn't listening, with Damian at his side taking his spot at the bat computer. He was pulling up the files and Tim could see the exact moment Dick saw it. He opened his mouth like a fish out of water and closed it again, eyes scanning something on the screens like he was receiving new information.
Damian looked at Dick with a puzzled expression when the older one spoke, mostly to himself "This, can't be right. This doesn't make sense." Bart walking over to Dick now took a second look.
Tim dug his hands into his thighs in an attempt to hide the tremor he felt building up.
"Why is his access history-" the redhead mumbled, before turning to the other Young Justice members "-his user profile has been active for over a decade- but that doesn't make sense. He's sixteen."
"User error?" Kon asked looking at Dick.
This time Damian cut in eyes fixed on the Young Justice mission Logs "No, that is Drake's login. His ID, and code number. This is real, but that means he had to have been active since he was-" Dick cut in "Since before he hit second grade."
It was quiet. Tim didn't dare to breathe.
This time Kon looked at him again and instead of confusion the only thing he could read on his face was alarm.
"Tim," Dick's voice was gentle but measured, "why have you had an active user profile for over a decade?"
Tim couldn't answer.
Jason scoffed "That has to be a glitch."
"Jay it's not," Dick said dead serious, already running a crosscheck and within seconds the bat computer obeyed, pulling up mission records, login data and access-logs "it's all here." Timâs stomach felt like it had dropped out from under him. The logs werenât lying. Eleven years. Eleven years of access history. Eleven years of logs, missions, training reportsâhis reports, his logins, his notes.
Jason let out a confused noise and breathed in sharp. Shaking his head "That's," he stopped and started again, seemingly lacking the words to speak. "Nope, nada, no way. That cannot be right. Check it against when I died." Dick's hands hovered over the keypad and he hesitated for a second. Then he moved.
Six months, they had it right in front of them. Bruce had been without a Robin for merely six months.
"That's not-" Jasons breath hitched "That's not right."
"But it is," Dick said, with a strained voice, he looked like we was about to keel over "How long do you remember Bruce being without a Robin?" Jason's jaw made a popping noise as he clenched it. Because Jason remembered the answer, felt it in his bones, carved into his skin alongside the autopsy scars, every second that had let to their reconciliation.
It must have been years.
"A long time-?" Jason said curtly, even though the words came out more as a question than an answer.
"Akhi-" Damian's voice cut through the silence, his eyes fixed on Dick, "-excuse my manner of speaking but, what the fuck!" Damian had pulled out a file full of Newspaper articles, the one currently pulled up being dated eight years ago . Plastered on the front page, he looked at himself standing next to B- face hidden behind the domino but very clearly- Tim Drake in the Robin suit.
Tim could hear a shallow breath being pulled in somewhere, next to the complete silence in the cave. Then a picture from last week- Batman and both Robins. Same mask, different uniform, but the same exact face. And Tim's knees buckled when he saw it on their faces, the realization: Tim didn't just look the same, he looked unchanged. Bart pushed away from the computer walking a few steps like he needed the physical distance to the undeniable evidence.
Dicks voice barely made a sound "Eight years."
Jasonâs throat worked, but no words came. He kept looking back at the screen, then at Timâthen back again, like the facts might change if he stared hard enough. They didnât. The proof was undeniable. Tim should have been almost seventeen in that first picture. But he was still the same boy as in the picture. Exactly the same. Jason swallowed hard. "This was eight years ago?" Damian clicked to another one. Seven years ago.
Same face.
Another. Six years ago.
Another. Same hair. Three years ago.
Same build. Same height. Same damn expression.
Tim was unchanged.
The discovery slid into place like a knife between ribs. Dick's eyes met his own Tim saw it all, the realization. The horror. The impossibility of it all. For a second the gap between the second and third Robin was years- the next it was shrinking and shrivelling, rearranging itself in their minds. Because this wasnât just a mistake. It wasnât a coincidence. It was something deliberate.
Something had been taken from them. Had rewritten all of them.
Tim felt it like a noose tightening around his neck. One second he saw Cass flinch and then pressure slammed into his head. The curse was screaming. And then it shattered.
pain.
The curse detonated his body, ripping through him like he was trying to escape his body by tearing it apart. His vision whited out, and he felt his hands on the cold cave floor before he even realised he had fallen. He was on fire- burning up, if not literally, then he might as well have been. It felt like his blood was boiling, and as if sharp edges were digging their way out of him through his flesh and bones. As if the curse had been sitting along his spine all this time waiting for the moment it was able to cause maximum destruction.
Tim was gasping for air, choking. His fingers felt numb, and he felt his entire body trembling. The others staggered, a short splintering burst of pain shooting through them- because it wasn't them this curse had been slowly killing for years, and was now tearing them apart. It was only him.
The curse violently snapped through him again and he could feel the bile creeping up his throat.
He felt a strong and steady hand on his back, he could barely register before the curse began tearing through him again. Somewhere in the cave, he could hear Dick screaming "We need you here now! Zatanna, please. Now!"
Tim could barely lift his head, his grip twitching weakly against Cass's sleeve, unsure of when she appeared next to him, his vision starting to blur.
He thinks that he feels arms being pulled around him and a deep voice screaming for Alfred before the darkness pulls him under.
pt 2! is out now! + you can find this story on ao3 as well!
title on ao3 âŽthese empty sounds and endless storiesâŽ
dividers by @cafekitsune
dont forget to leave a like or reblog! and thank you for reading!
