Chapter Text
Tim wasn’t sure what was going on. He didn’t remember how he had gotten here. His thoughts were far away, like a fog. He tried to move but found that he couldn’t feel his limbs. Why couldn’t he see? It was like he was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Was he dead? Tim couldn’t remember. He couldn’t think of anything for too long otherwise it would fall away. Thoughts passed him by like sand slipping through his fingers.
The last thing he could remember was… a mission? No, he was in Gotham, chasing something. Someone. Tim remembered climbing… a building. And then he was fighting.. Right, he was fighting assassins. What assassin? He was at a meeting at…Ra’s had some scheme cooked up and Red Robin went to save… something. Save who? Robin saves people. Robin was there, right? No, Tim is Robin. No, he’s Red Robin. He knew that. He didn’t remember exactly but he knew everything stopped fighting and running and… when he felt something sharp and painful in his chest. Or his heart? He couldn’t feel anything. It was soft and sad, not sharp. He thought so. Tim had a brief sensation of falling, and then nothing. He was stuck in the nothing.
Did Tim die? It seemed like it, Tim thought. If he could, he’d be looking around, but he couldn’t do anything but… exist. Did he exist? Was this the afterlife? He wondered just how long he was meant to do this. How long was he meant to stay like this. Tim wanted to go back. To be Tim again. Tim was… He felt nothing, could barely put thoughts together. So far, the afterlife was pretty boring, if this was what it was. He couldn’t hold onto his emotions long enough to panic. There was nothing around him, and Tim felt like he was just a ball of consciousness floating in the clouds. With nothing else to do he kept floating for what felt like hours, or days. He didn’t know. He couldn’t keep track. Tim was just here. Wherever here was.
After what felt like ages and yet only seconds, something finally happened. Tim snapped to attention at the only thing happening in the stupid place and strained to hear. The nothing barely changed. Something muffled. Something… It sounded like someone talking, but from the other side of a wall. Muffled, still. It had gone on for seconds and years at the same time, it was all Tim could focus on. Soon enough, the voices seemed to get louder. Tim still couldn’t see anything, couldn’t get closer, couldn’t move. He was entranced.
“Ighest- of -nors to- ve the- or o- ture-” It seemed to say, and Tim bit back a huff of frustration. He was trying, but nothing was making sense. He didn’t even have a body right now, so what could he do in this situation, Tim steamed, the new sounds and stimulation brought about a new sense of self within Tim. He could focus better, Tim could think and feel emotions like impatience and curiosity. He couldn’t even hear much, and the voice lacked anything he could use to identify it. He tried though, it was the only thing he could do.
“on heir- warded to y- and- Damian-”
Damian? Tim thought with a jolt. The voice said Damian. Robin. Was he here? He couldn’t remember where Damian was when he died. Did he die? Were they all trapped in the nothing too? Or maybe it was just Tim. Because… he had died. Were they trying to bring Tim back to life? He thought, thinking about the possibility that he had just been in a coma this whole time. Not knowing was bringing his panic and nervousness to overwhelming levels. He had no outlet for his feelings so he just strained to think. What was Damian doing here, Tim wondered. He hadn’t seen Damian much. That he remembered. It was odd, that the kid would be here now when Tim was… Well he wasn’t sure, but he was at least glad someone he knew was here. Even if the last time they’d really been around each other was when they were both kids. They’d both grown a lot since then, but had never gotten the chance to reconcile since then. Tim only heard stories from others about the kid. But if this was a mission Robin would help. Damian would tell him what was happening.
Ultimately, Tim couldn’t do anything but listen. The voice speaking seemed familiar now, but he couldn’t place it. Who was the voice talking to, Tim thought. It must be important. Were they talking to him? If he could have scoffed, he would have. Obviously he wasn’t talking to Tim, because he could barely hear what the guy was saying. Something about an heir- who was probably Damian. So the Demon heir. Which didn’t bode well for them. Maybe the voice was talking to Damian, he thought. Still, if this was a mission, Tim could see that this was probably not the plan. Something must have gone sideways. He shouldn’t be like this, he knew. But if he got out he could help. Tim could help Damian and the others fix whatever went wrong.
Suddenly Tim felt something- everything- and he burst into consciousness when he felt two hands connect with his- him. With him. Tim’s head spun, and everything was bright and new but familiar. He still couldn’t move, but he could see his surroundings. Did he even need to blink? It felt like he was floating but not. Tim didn’t blink but he felt like he could see more than he normally could. When he was able to push past the overwhelming feelings and sensations he observed his surroundings and promptly balked. The whole room was bathed in warm light and gaudy antiques that Tim instantly recognized as Ra’s throne room. But that was not the most surprising part.
Tim was a sword. He didn’t have a sword, no, Tim was a sword. He looked like a blade forged in deep red blood and a black and red hilt to match. Simple yet deadly, and Tim was at least mullified that he looked pretty cool as a sword. He banished the thought of sword sonas from his mind the moment it appears, because he is in fact an inanimate object.
Unsurprisingly, that was the least problematic thing happening at the moment, considering Tim the Sword was being handed off to a tiny, maybe 8 year old, Damian. So , Tim thought frantically, trying to stay calm. He was a sword and Damian was a baby. Time travel, Tim thought, but that also didn’t explain why he wasn’t dead and was also a sword. Multiverse? Parallel universe? He couldn’t recall anything magical when he died, but he also couldn’t recall exactly what happened to him. Tim’s thoughts remained on repeat, thinking through possibilities and trying to figure out just what exactly might have landed him in this position. Tim came up blank.
To be fair, after a moment of examination, he was a pretty cool sword and that definitely made him less upset about the whole situation, yet he was still very much overwhelmed at the idea of being an animate inanimate object. An object small enough to be wielded by a baby Damian’s size, and very sharp. Simple and sleek, nothing gaudy like Ra’s own sword. During Tim’s observations, he’d realized he could now hear the conversations clearly and tuned back in while he looked around. It looked like they were in the League of Assassins base he’d blown up. The cradle. Why, Tim didn’t know.
“I understand, grandfather,”Damian replied. Tim turned his- he turned. Towards the small boy. The last time he’d seen Damian was a few months ago, but the kid had been a lot older than this. Taller too, and less baby fat. Tim supposed he died around 22, meaning Damian had been 19. They hadn’t interacted much. Tim felt a bit of sadness at that. He’d never reached out before, after their time at the manor together. Still, His relief at seeing a familiar face in this new world waned when he saw just how small Damian was. Smaller than he should have been, with fresh bruises and bandages wrapping his forearm. Tim could see the awe in Damian’s eyes as he looked Tim over and couldn’t help the fondness inside him. It was cute, the way the boy marveled at his sword. And yet. seeing the battle scars on the kid made Tim’s heart hurt. He’d never seen Damian so small. He was adorable. To think that any of the adults in this awful place would abuse him in such a way made Tim seethe with rage. Turning to look at Ra’s Tim saw nothing but a narcissistic man with delusions of grandeur.
“Take time to bond with your sword, and it will be your greatest ally. The trust one has in their sword is greater than any familial bond,”Ra’s says, and Tim fights the urge to roll his eyes.” I expect you to do as I have, Damian, and master your blade,”Ra’s finishes, and Tim has the urge to wipe the self-important look off the old man’s face. With those parting words, Ra’s sauntered off, leaving Tim to turn his attention to the little kid in front of him. The small child facing unjustifiable abuse and is praised for obedience so he doesn’t recognise it as such. Tim thinks that, if he gets a chance, he’d put it to a stop in any way he could.
Almost reverently, Damian studied the sword in his hands, unaware of the sword studying him back. His mother gripped him by the shoulder and led him away from the ornate room. Her long nails pinched the fabric of his tunic uncomfortably. Tim looked over and was surprised to see a pensive look on her face. He didn’t know what point in time they were, nor could he guess at what she was thinking. Is this when she decides to send Damian to Bruce? Tim thinks, but is sure Damian looks too young.
“That sword is special, Damian. Do not take it for granted what the Demon head has gifted you for completing your training,”Talia said lowly to him as they walked. She keeps her voice low, as to not be heard by the assassins guarding the doors as they walk past. “The sword is called Fyˈut, and it is said to be able to give the wielder glimpses into the future to aid in battle.”
Damian nodded, determination sparking in him. ”I will train hard to unlock the sword’s abilities,”He promised, sheathing the blade in its intricately carved scabbard. Despite being stuck in the sheathe, Tim could still feel and see the world around him. It was odd, but he felt more like someone had draped a blanket over him when he was in the sheathe. He didn’t hate it, and Tim could see the sheathe had a sleek design, only recognisable by the dragon like etchings encasing it. Tim snorted to himself. Fitting that a drake would have such a decoration on a sword. However, he thought it might be too much of a coincidence to not be purposeful. He once again had the thought of how he’d ended up here.
“To be awarded such a powerful sword is not to be taken lightly,”Talia reminds, grip tightening. Damian looks up at her with the utmost of determination, making Tim’s heart hurt. “Your grandfather expects the best from you, as his sole heir to the throne.”
Talia looked down at her son, mouth opening to say something, but in the face of the small boy with a scabbard a little too big for him, she closed it. Her heels clicked on the floor as they continued in silence, creating an oppressive atmosphere. They ended up at the last room in the hall, and Talia stopped.
“Do not disappoint me,”Talia finished with, leaving Damian in a plain but ornate room. Leaving a boy with a mountain of expectations on his shoulders and a sword who was powerless to help.
Tim gazed about as Damian entered the room. It was not nearly as ornate as the throne room, yet easily recognizable as part of the head family. Tim soon found himself once again in Damian’s hands, as the kid looked over his new sword with awe. Damian , Tim thought fondly. He remembered Damian’s sword collection back in his original universe, the few times he’d caught a glimpse from the hallway. Swords were one way to the boy’s heart, he supposed, and found himself glad that he’d ended up with Damian. He couldn’t imagine being a sword in the hands of an eight year old Jason Todd on the streets of Gotham. He’d imagine Jason would have the smarts to pawn him off. At least here Tim could predict the outcome.
Tim was taken out of his musings when Damian straightened, swinging Tim around. “Who is there?”Damian called out. Tim froze. At least, as much as he could as a sword.
Someone’s here? Tim thought, trying to cast his senses out to the room, but it looked like they were alone. What kind of room is the kid living in if it gets infiltrated so easily?
“Tch,”Damian said, narrowing his eyes. He gripped the sword tighter, yet Tim could feel the kid’s nerves and sweaty palms. ”Reveal yourself!”
Wait, Tim thought, realizing something. You can hear me?
“Of course I can!” Damian spat, and Tim was getting really tired of being swung around. The kid was a spitfire, he could see that getting the kid to trust him might not be so easily done.
I’m your sword! Tim projected, and Damian was the one who froze this time. He knew he needed to act carefully here, unless he wanted Damian to alert Talia or Ra’s about his swords' newfound consciousness. He couldn’t afford to mess the conversation up.
“You.. Why did you not speak earlier?” Damian questioned, relaxing a little when he realized there was no immediate danger. Tim thought that maybe a ten year old might not immediately jump to conclusions about cursed swords, so he had a chance to befriend him. Maybe he could use the sword’s prophecy to his advantage, Tim thought.
I didn’t know you could hear me until just now. Tim confesses. I only woke up when you touched me for the first time .
Damian hummed in response, and Tim stayed quiet. He did not want to start rambling and overwhelm the little guy. Damian looked adorable sitting on the giant poofy bed with a serious scowl. “You are my sword then, correct? So you will serve me to the best of your abilities.”
Amused, Tim responded with affirmation. Of course. I am your sword and yours alone.
Damian was so cute at this age, Tim couldn’t help but think. The kid nodded swiftly. “Good. I am Damian Al Ghul, heir to the Demon’s Head. What should I call you, spirit of the Fy’ut sword?”
Oh, Tim thought. You may call me Tim , he said with a wince. He knew it wasn’t a cool name for a sword… spirit? But he didn’t want to be stuck with something like Fy’ut, and he was bad at coming up with names. Tim should be fine for a sword, right? Better than Alvin, he couldn’t help but think. Nice to meet you Damian.
To his surprise, Damian only nodded, and went to sit farther up his bed, getting comfortable. Much to Tim’s amusement, the kid looked reluctant to put him down. As if they were meant to keep talking, but neither knew what else to say.
Tim abruptly realized that maybe Damian was lonely. Looking around the room, Tim was reminded of his own room back at Drake Manor. There were no toys, nothing to pass the time but books and weapons, antiques, and nothing else. It wasn’t a room meant for children. Tim wondered how often Damian was stuck in this room alone, and if he only left for training and meals.
Tim heaved a sigh at the loss, but was starting to get determined. He couldn’t do much as a sword, but he could help Damian. Just by keeping him company, Tim would be able to steer the kid in the right direction, and maybe he’d be more well-adjusted by the time he gets to Bruce. Tim grew excited, thoughts overflowing with plans. He had nothing else to do as a sword but he did have the knowledge of an entirely different life. Tim basically knew the future, to an extent. He could use that, Tim could help, he would be useful, and he would be the best goddamn sword Damian could ask for.
As the sword of the future , Tim starts, I can tell you many things that happen in your future, but also about the past to an extent. Do you have anything you wish to know?
“It is true?” Damian asks. The kid is still drinking in every detail of Tim’s blade, careful not to cut himself. “You have knowledge of the future?”
Yes , Tim confirms, feeling a bit like he’s just handed an eight year old a sword. He knows he would have greatly misused this if their situations were reversed at this age. A tiny Tim with access to knowledge of future events is not something even Batman would know how to handle. I will use it to assist you in any way that I can. Would you like to know about your father? The leag-
“My father?” Damian interrupts, his eyes narrowing in confusion.
If you want to know more about him, I can tell you. Tim offers. He does not have the urge to pester Damian, but he wasn’t sure what else Damian might want to know. If he didn’t want to know about Bruce, though, Timm would leave it alone. He’d ask when he was ready. Still, Bruce seemed like an easy topic. Tim knew the history of Batman like the back of his… blade. He didn’t want to talk about the League’s future much, and Damian’s own would be limited, as Tim didn’t know a whole lot about the boy either.
“What do you know about him?” Damian asks, harsh. At the sharp gesture Tim pauses. He starts to get the idea that Damian has not been told anything about Bruce at all, and gets a creeping feeling of sadness and dread.
Well, for starters , Tim says. He’s a hero, a billionaire, and a very determined person.
“What do you mean by hero?” Damian demands. Shifting to pull Tim up onto his lap. He can tell he’s caught Damian’s interest, and thinks storytime might not be a bad idea. Despite himself, Tim finds it incredibly satisfying to tell the story to someone who’s never heard it before. He feels a bit like he’s the DM to a Wizards and Warlock’s campaign explaining the lore before they start playing. A familiar sense of giddiness Tim welcomes as he starts again.
To tell the story of Batman, I should start from the very beginning, Tim says. In a city called Gotham, there lived two famous philanthropists. They were very passionate about Gotham, and did all they could to make it a better place to live. They eventually had a son named Bruce, and raised him together with their butler Alfred…
Things were already different here, so Tim knew he had to be at least a little careful about what he told Damian. Nothing about Tim himself, and no big future events… at least not yet. He started with Bruce’s story. How he became Batman. He wanted Damian to know that Bruce was not without flaws, and that while he was his son that didn’t mean he had to follow in his exact footsteps. Tim wanted to start planting the idea of heroes in Damian’s head, and hoped it would help him start thinking about things outside the assassins rules within the league.
“But he is scared of bats,”Damian interjects, incredulously when Tim mentions the name Bruce chose.
He is, Tim says, grinning to himself. Because bats are scary to criminals too. And they come out at night. It’s intimidating.
“That is a ridiculous reason,”Damian decides, yet Tim can tell he’s invested. It is a cool name either way, he thinks.
It was clear by the end of the first story, the Origins of Batman, that Damian was entranced. The two of them talked nearly all night until Tim encouraged Damian to go to bed. It was late and Tim didn’t know the plans that awaited them for the next day. He only regretted it a little bit when Damian left him to his own devices. There really wasn’t much to do as a sword except keep watch. He was perched on Damian’s nightstand, able to see the whole room from there. Tim thought it was a bit creepy to watch the kid sleep, but didn’t have any other way to pass the time.
It gave him time to think about tomorrow’s story time and observe the room. It was plain, as in no knick knacks or toys around. Only the bare necessities, educational books, and various weapons. He could tell the room was meant for someone of Damian’s status by the decorations and embellishments into the furniture. Even Damian’s blankets were embroidered with what looked like demons to Tim. It was a bit cringey to know that Ra’s had it all designed for him. Even stranger if it was Talia’s doing. Demons everywhere was not a great look in a child’s room, Tim thought. He didn’t know if they were necessarily more comfortable though, being so heavily embroidered, but based on the hot atmosphere around the area, Damian didn’t need to rely on them too much for warmth.
Tim glanced back to Damian, thinking over their situation. His first goal would have to be to get Damian to Bruce. Because of their earlier conversation, Tim learned that Damian was ten years old. Which meant in about two years he’d be sent to Bruce. It gave Tim a bit of hope that he’d be able to convince Damian to convince Talia to send him earlier. In the meantime, he’d be able to teach Damian a bit about how to socialize with regular, non-assassin people.
Mentally, he made a list of things he could cover with the kid to give him the best chances. Tim knew a lot about navigating mind games and manipulation, so that would be good for Damian to learn. It would help them get to Gotham sooner if Damian could lie, too. Tim would try to give Damian as much of a head start as he could. Damian would be more prepared for things like school, dealing with his grandfather, Talia, heroes, interrogations, Bruce, galas, and maybe even Dick and Jason. If they were there.
Tim was…pretty sure Jason was Red Hood by now. Shaking his head, Tim adjusted his plans to make sure Damian would be able to adapt more easily this time around. It may seem a bit of a large to do list, but Tim was an overachiever by nature. He’d help Damian as much as he could here. Especially when Damian was a child being raised by literal assassins. Kid needed anything Tim could teach him to get to Bruce faster.
Damian would need to know more about heroes most, Tim supposed. Considering he didn’t know much until he moved to Gotham, and it had impaired his social skills when interacting with other heroes. Not to mention he was inexperienced with the whole not killing thing. Tim was more than eager to info dump on the kid. He had a lot of stories to tell about his favorite heroes, and Damian might even get some good advice from it.
There wasn’t a whole lot Tim could do as a sword, but he figured he could help with sword training too. He wasn’t as good with a sword as he was with a bo staff, which was ironic because he was a sword, but he wouldn’t be a bat if he wasn’t versatile. He knew how to fight with nearly every weapon he could get his hands on. The bo staff just worked with him best, and Tim refused to accept that it might be because he was shorter than average and the staff gave him a longer reach. Because it wasn’t.
Huffing, Tim went back to thinking about his plans. He liked telling stories, and he knew a lot of stories growing up around other heroes. Even with his mind racing, Tim ended up watching Damian as he slept and tried not to feel creepy about it. There really wasn’t anything else for him to do, so he felt a bit justified. He ended up counting Damian’s breaths and waiting for the kid to wake up. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he thought the way Damian snored ever so slightly and clutched his pillow was cute. He was just a little baby! It was adorable.
Tim hadn’t really had an opportunity to get to know Damian before. He remembered their first few meetings as… not so great. The murder attempts were not looked upon fondly, and after that Tim was too busy with being a vigilante, moving out, taking over WE, and so on. He couldn’t remember when he’d actually spent time with Damian that wasn’t obligatory galas, holidays, or missions. Even then, they usually avoided each other out of habit.
This time, Tim thought, he’ll get to know Damian better. The kid was his only connection to the world right now, and the only one he knew how to help in this situation. Tim promised the tiny sleeping boy next to him that he would try his best to get Damian out of the League as soon as possible. He’d be the best sword companion Damian will ever have.