Red Robin

“I just don’t think we have enough to suss out a pattern, that’s all,” Lois shrugs with a small sigh as she wraps her hands around the mug. “But I am hopeful for the same. As a type A person, all this uncertainty does drive me a little insane,” She agrees. “But time to adjust, new normal and all that. I just worry we’ll end up popping back and then it’ll be some insane back and forth. Makes it hard to settle.” She nods. “Oh? Did she come over too? At the same time or separate? That’s weird. I haven’t met someone who was with someone else when it happened.”

Tim knew that, but he didn’t want to accept it. Without something to work with, all he could do was sit here and wait, and he knew he would go a little stir-crazy if that happened. 

“I don’t think that will happen,” he said with a frown. “At least, they people who have been here longest haven’t reported anything like that. Yet.” It was hard to say with only a few months of data, but anything could happen. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said a bit awkwardly. “We were together.” He thought maybe it had been because they had been touching, that they both got dragged in at the same moment. Though he hadn’t really been paying attention, too caught up in... whatever moment they had been having. But then, his luck had kicked in and suddenly they were in another universe, and forgot all about that almost-moment. 

Steph was surprised at how….agreeable Tim was being. Lately he’d been so engrossed in his work she’d felt somewhat invisible in his presence. Something was different today, he was present with her. She finally felt seen by him in a way she hadn’t for quite some time. Not since before their arrival here. 

Their all too abrupt….arrival.

“Ok! I’ll see you then!” Excitedly, she whirled around and began rummaging through her multiple piles of clothing to find something to wear. It was nice to have something to look forward to. 

Later on, Steph found herself doodling in her notebook a lot more than paying attention. She wasn’t a particularly “gifted” artist, but that didn’t stop her from making expressive, hyperbolic cartoons of her teachers. Finally they were dismissed, and she practically flew to the exit to look for Tim.

Tim’s meetings with the physics professors had gone about as expected. There was still a lack of any solid ideas to work with, no matter how many theories were passed around. It had been a disappointing morning, but he ran through his notes again as he waited for Stephanie.

A flood of students washed by him as the hour finished, and he looked up from his place leaning against the wall. He quickly picked her out of the crowd, a sense of peace overcoming him as he locked eyes with Steph. 

He raised a hand in an awkward wave, slinging his bag over his shoulder. 

“Hey,” he said, once she was in hearing distance. “How was class?”

He noticed the distinct lack of reply and wondered just what Bart had told Tim about him. He knew – God, he knew he’d not always been as good to Bart as he probably should have. He wasn’t as patient as Max, or as good-natured as Jay. (And everything Bart, looking up at him with these eyes that though Wally could do anything, and all Wally could think of was how no one should look at him like that, how it should’ve been Barry to teach another speedster, how there’s nothing quite like feeling the pedestal underneath your feet to remind you of how easy it would be to break it. How easy it is to disappoint someone.)

“Sorry,” he said, a little more seriously. “That was a bad joke. I’m sure Bart’s fine. He still has Max and Jay. They’ll take good care of him.”

He watched Tim’s soft smile, but decided not to comment on it. He wished he didn’t have to fill the space of the apartment alone – as small as it was, it still seemed too big, too empty, too much. Too much for Wally alone.

He waved away Tim’s apology easily. “What mess? You’re fine, don’t worry. My apartments waaay worse, trust me. What are those?” he pointed at the papers Tim was holding, curiosity getting to better of him. 

“Yeah, Bart’s tough,” he agreed with a bit of a forced smile. Still, it was in his nature to worry. He had pulled the other boy out of trouble enough times to know he didn’t always think things through. 

Tim continued to pick up the table, regardless of what Wally said. He probably should get around to cleaning everything up soon anyways. Neither Steph nor him were neat freaks, but if they were going to be having guests they should at least try to tidy up.

“It’s just some research on all this,” he said, waving his hand around them. “Nothing important.” He was a bit embarrassed, given that he had been researching this for months now and had exactly nothing to show for it. He was used to being the brains behind his own team, the one making the plans. Now, he was stumbling along in the dark, trying not to get left behind.

It was not lost on Steph just how generous that smile was, regardless of it’s weakness. There wasn’t a damn thing she could say to cheer him up- but maybe distractions could help. 

She definitely perked up at his question. It seemed like it had been forever since he’d focused on ANYTHING besides trying to solve all of this world’s problems. So basically, not a whole lot different than their old reality. Steph knew she had to catch this wave, and ride it as quickly as possible.

“Ummmm….Ya know that pho place around the corner? I havn’t been there yet. I’ve really wanted to try it!” Stephanie didn’t know why that place had popped into her mind. She didn’t even really like pho, but she had to strike while the iron was hot. It was just noodles, right? It wasn’t that bad. 

“When should I meet you?” 

If there was one thing Steph was good at, it was distracting him. He had tried to be annoyed at this talent of hers when they first met, but he had quickly accepted his fate. Now he clung to it as the only thing to stop him from sinking further into depression.

“Sounds good,” he said. “I haven’t had Vietnamese in a while.” He didn’t mind either way, and he was sure it would be leagues better than whatever microwavable food they had in the apartment. He glanced around at their collection of coffee mugs and instant noodles. A jar of Nutella was sitting next to the couch, two spoons on top of the lid.

He missed Alfred. A lot.

“I should be done with my stuff by eleven,” he said. “I can wait outside your classroom for you.” 

“And so when you isolate the pattern, then what? A pattern does not show causation, at least not in the real world,” Lois says with a shrug. “If Joe walks in here every day and orders a coffee and a danish, that’s a pattern. But it doesn’t say that Joe comes in to get coffee every day because he’s a cop who works nights and doesn’t get enough sleep, you know?” She quirks an eyebrow. Of course, Lois used real-life patterns in her reporting, specifically crime reporting, pretty often. But it almost never indicated causation. “Possibly, but everyone I have spoken to, and take this with a grain of salt because It’s only anecdotal evidence, has disappeared from seemingly innocuous places. I was at my desk at The Planet,” Lois shrugs. “Where were you?”

“I’m trying to focus on the what, more than the why right now,” he said with a tired sigh. “Eventually I want to know why Joe gets coffee every day, but right now all we know is that on one particular day he did come here.” And okay, bad metaphor, but he was working with what he was given. “I mean, we are working with next to nothing right now, and anything is better than that.” 

Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, that they would get something substantial from this line of question, but he needed to at least feel like he was doing something. If he sat down and took a minute to breathe, the walls that were keeping the anxiety at bay would crumble to dust.

“Steph and I were watching a movie,” he said. And wasn’t that just ironic. He had taken a break from looking for Bruce and the family, and that exact moment was when he had stumbled here.

Steph wished there was something she could say that would make Tim feel better about his endeavors. She wasn’t exactly gifted in the “pep talk” category. Sighing, she just stared at his sad broody face and offered the best words of comfort she could gather. “If anyone can do it, it’s you. Not to….put more pressure on you, or anything.” She hoped she hadn’t made it worse.

Steph frowned, pouting. “I knew you were going to say that.” As if Tim would eve encourage her to play hooky from school. She perked up when he mentioned getting lunch, however.

“I think I could squeeze you in.” She couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Thanks, Steph,” he said, giving her a weak smile. Still, he was starting to feel that it shouldn’t be just on him. Maybe he should go through the building looking for any science geniuses from the other dimension. His best bet right now was probably to talk to Bruce, but Tim was afraid of the disappointment he might see on his face.

“Good,” he said, brightening at the subject change. Spending time with her almost always had that effect on him. “Do you want to eat on campus, or go somewhere else?” he asked. He tended to just get whatever was closest, not actually caring whether it was fast food or gourmet. 

“Yeah, basically same-same,” Lois heaves a sigh. She was hoping that someone had made some headway. It was disheartening — all the uncertainty. “Like what? All we have is anecdotal from the people who end up here. And It’s all the same,” Lois gestures at herself, then him. “Doing something, then boom, you are somewhere else in New York — seemingly, then you realize It’s different.” She shrugs. “It’s just… It’s frustrating,” She grumbles, pushing her hair from her face.

“There has to be a pattern in there somewhere,” Tim said forcefully. He had to believe it, had to believe that there was something he could do to fix this. “There is no such thing as a random occurrence, just a pattern that hasn’t finished it’s sequence yet.” In computer language, this was always much simpler, as the patterns were limited by the human brain, but in nature it could be a near-never ending sequence. 

As much as he didn’t like the idea of anecdotal evidence, it seemed like the only place to start. “Maybe we can try to pinpoint exactly where and when everyone disappeared and reappeared?”

He recognized the smile on Tim’s face, that smile that seemed to play out on everyone’s faces these days. Missing people, wondering what was worse – wishing for them to stay away, or wishing from them to come here, so at least you wouldn’t have to miss them anymore. Wondering how scared they must be, confused as to what was happening, if they’d come for you.

He firmly hoped Bart wouldn’t slip through, even if he – and he would take the secret to his grave – missed the little brat. He was having trouble enough keeping from making a scene. Bart? Only complete and utter disaster could follow.

“He was doing fine. Last time I saw him was at the family barbecue, so unless he’s dead of food poisoning because he can’t wait for meat to be grilled,” he made sure to roll his eyes at obnoxiously obvious as he could,” he should be doing okay. Don’t worry, he’s probably having a blast taking over for me. Better not be touching the costume, though. Oh, he definitely is. Damnit.”

He shook his head and shrugged, as if to physically cast off the feeling that just washed over him.

“Well, Steph is pretty awesome, so I’m glad you have her,” he replied easily and then laughed. “All right, not touching the Sacred Nutella. Got it. Don’t want her poisoning my waffles.”

He knew Wally and Bart had a bit of a strained relationship, and bit his tongue. Bart had practically hero-worshiped the older boy at one point, but the feeling hadn’t been appreciated. Still, he knew that Bart still cared a lot about him, was probably worried about Wally’s disappearance. 

“Yeah, I’m glad I have her too,” he said with a soft smile. She helped keep him grounded, gave him a reason to keep moving. Without her, he probably would have self-destructed by now. 

He led Wally into the small apartment, putting his bag down by the table. His notes were still spread out all over it, and he felt a faint hint of embarrassment at that. His mother had always taught him to keep their house immaculate for guests. “Uh, sorry about the mess,” he said, gathering up the papers in an order that would only make sense to him.

“Apparently.” She replied with a soft laugh, then nodded. “And science in grad school as well? You really do like studying. I wish you luck with that.”

Perhaps the trouble of her own world wouldn’t bleed over here, and he would be able to study and get his degrees in peace. But she had a bad feeling things were only just getting started. Then again- Natasha’s bad feelings never quite left her no matter the circumstance.

“Oh, absolutely. I deal with business, but watching the government scramble with property law, citizenship, housing… it’s certainly been something.” She flitted through various covers as fitting in this world, but what she really needed was access to information, to the public side of it and the government, to watch reactions and gauge the direction as things began to unravel. Not everything was going through the proper channels here, but watching the proper channels still provided insight, and it helped to have a little legal sway in that. A light laugh left her. “Stay inside, stay in school, stay out of trouble, right?”

“Thanks.” He was a little surprised with how honest he was being with the woman, an actual stranger. He hadn’t even told Dick that he had been thinking about grad school. Maybe it was just easier sharing it with someone who didn’t know all the other responsibilities he had, that wouldn’t tell him he was biting off more than he could chew.

“And how is that going?” he asked. A professional opinion on what he felt was chaos could never hurt. “Honestly, I’m surprised the government is willing to do anything at all.” He wondered how this world’s political game was similar to his own, because he could not imagine this kind of response there. Only six months in, and there were systems set up? He was pretty sure their world would still be denying a problem existed.

immobile patrol nights such as this one, when damian is ordered to sit and watch a particular street or alleyway or building, is already difficult for the young robin, already filling him with unease and itching, like ants of anxiety crawling around and biting him beneath his skin, the eager ends of his nerves drawing themselves out to exhaustion. he likes moving, he likes running, he likes flying and jumping and fighting, and being forced into one space is damn to torture.

he often thinks to himself, whenever he’s been put in this position, which thankfully isn’t much, that the only way it could be worse is if he had to do it with timothy drake, the world’s worst bun-knuckle-head to ever don the robin title, in damian’s educated opinion. so tonight must be his lucky night.

he keeps the binoculars up to his eyes as he peers down into the windows of the building standing across from them, looking for basically nothing while pretending that it’s everything important. “you know who whines, drake? babies.” nevermind the fact that damian complains almost every time he has to be on a mission like this. “i know it’s been a while since you did any serious vigilante work, but generally it takes a few hours to guard a place. why’d you even agree to come out here?”

Tonight was turning out to be more an exercise in restraint than anything. Normally, Tim was rather good at that, at holding back and thinking instead of rushing in. But tonight, with Damian sitting next to him, he really, really wished he could punch him. Just once. Or maybe a few times.

“Yes, I am aware. I’ve been staking places out longer than you’ve been alive.” Which, okay, was maybe an exaggeration. Trying to catch pictures of Batman probably didn’t count as a stake-out, but Tim had been spending nights huddled up on rooftops since he was six, just old enough to climb down the tree outside his window.

“Why did you agree to do this?” he asked. “I figured this kind of ‘grunt work’ was beneath you.”

“You did? Nice! I’m sure all the teachers will be bragging about you in not time,” Wally said with an easy grin. Of course, all the Batkids had their smarts (Wally imagined it was on a long list of Robin Reqs, listed right under Must Look Like They Could Actually Be My Biologically Children. It was kinda cool. In a creepy way. But whatever worked, right?)

“Oh no, no, don’t worry,” Wally waved away the apologetic note in Tim’s voice. “I just – Wondering.” He smiled. “I’m sure he will.” He leaned in for a fake whisper. “Think I spoiled him too much by going on 3 am beer runs for him.”

He smiled again at Tim’s offer. “Oh, now that’s a dangerous thing to offer a speedster. I’d love to – promise I’ll be polite and won’t empty out the fridge.”

“So, school, huh? Making any new friends?”

Tim tried not to be embarrassed at the strange confidence Wally seemed to have in him, and busied himself with heading up the stairs, pulling his keys from his bag. 

A bittersweet smile washed across his face at the joke, remembering Bart doing the same thing for Conner, Cassie, and him. Granted, it was usually a junk food run, not a beer run, considering Bart looked to be about twelve and Conner had a Kryptonian metabolism. 

“How’s, uh,” he hesitated a moment, not sure if it would be rude to bring him up. “When was the last time you saw Bart?” he asked.

Jason shrugged. “I was. Until I found out that the genius that lived in this building was you.” He chuckled when Tim wondered off into the kitchen. “I will leave if you want me to, but we might as well make the most of being in this world. They aren’t going to be so welcoming to us forever. Especially people like us,” he gestured to both of them. “And we could always use another genius on the Rooks. Besides, you also get the distinct pleasure of Bruce frowning at you in disapproval. It kinda comes with the gig.” 

Tim digested this for a moment, pouring out two cups of coffee. Little, twelve year old Tim would have been jumping in joy at the chance to work with his hero, but time had changed things. He had the right to be a little more wary. Sure, Jason hadn’t tried to kill him in a while, but he could hear Bruce’s voice in the back of his head, whispering that he was dangerous, unstable, a criminal.

He handed Jason a purple mug, leaning back on the counter. “Let’s say I agreed to this, what would you have me doing?” he asked suspiciously.

“Ya know…you look about as tired as I feel.” Step yawned. She imagined she probably didn’t look so good either. 

“You’re trying to….what?” If she’d had her coffee, it would have been sprayed all over their kitchen. “I guess….I shouldn’t be surprised, but…..damn Timothy. That’s heavy.” If anyone could do it, it was him. There was really no one Steph believed in, more than Tim. Some things just….wouldn’t translate though, when spoken aloud.

“I do but…I could ditch, if you needed help?” Oh, how she wished he would take her up on that offer- though she had no idea what he could possibly need her help with. Anything to get out of going to school, though.

“Thanks,” her replied dryly, reaching for the coffee pot just as it switched off. “It might be more impressive if I actually had anything to show for it.” He wasn’t bitter, per say, but his frustration was catching up with him. Half of his reasoning for getting them into Columbia was so that he would have access to their labs, but so far he hadn’t even gotten to the point he needed them. 

“No, go to class, Steph,” he said, pulling himself back to a slighter calmer head space. He didn’t want his bad mood to start affecting her. 

“I was just thinking that we could get lunch or something,” he explained. “I’m gonna go talk to some of the professors, so I could meet you when your class is over?”

“Zee is here, yeah!” Lo nods enthusiastically. Zee was one of her closest friends so running into her had been such a huge relief. She felt the first sense of stability in this place in finding Zee. “I’m not sure. I mean I think she has but she hasn’t mentioned anything significant to me at this point in time,” Lois sighs and swirls her cold coffee.

“I’ve been talking to astrophysicists and scientists and god, event crystal healers for some articles about what’s going on, you know, from an outsider’s perspective and no one seems to know what the hell is going on,” She makes a face, wrinkling her nose. “What have you heard?”

Tim nodded, a bit disappointed but not surprised to hear there had been little progress from anyone else. “I haven’t heard much more,” he said with a sigh. “I’ve been talking with some of the physics professors at Columbia, and they all have theories, but none of them have actually worked out in simulations.” He had been rather open about his status as one of the refugees, and most of the professors had seemed eager to talk with him. 

“I think what we need is more data,” he said. “There has to be some sort of pattern, we just need to figure out what it is.”