Chapter Text
Tim blinks slowly against the harsh sunlight, the sky incredibly blue with no clouds in sight. It’s quiet and calm and Tim lets the illusion of it linger for a bit longer. He feels heavy and sluggish, tired. Like this he can pretend that he’s on the manor grounds, laying on the grass and getting ready for a nap that he knows will get interrupted by any of his siblings. Or even Alfred who would then stand at the edge of his vision and stare down with a twinkle in his eye, saying Master Timothy you ought to attend to dinner.
But this was not the manor, he did not lay on grass but on concrete with rubble digging into his back. He feels sleepy and his limbs heavy because of the blood loss caused by the piece of Gotham’s architecture running through his body. There is no Alfred here and would never be again, his siblings are also long gone and only corpses left. His friends have been gone even longer, way before this battle.
His eyes flutter closed and the torrent of grief that slams through him is enough to choke him up. In response his body jerks and spasms as much as it can, the movement makes the pain of all his injuries flare up bright and sharp before it fades in the background again. He tries to blink the black spots out of his eyes and only half succeeds.
Tim is so cold.
He doesn’t know why he’s trying to prolong the inevitable. There is nothing for him anymore and death would be a relief and yet he is clinging to life with a sort of desperation that leaves him even more in pain. Maybe it’s his subconsciousness trying to punish himself with this. Him knowing that everything is lost.
He can’t move his head but if he were able to he knows that he’d see a slew of ruined and broken buildings and Gotham’s skyline in tatters. Likely there will be bodies too should he look but for once he is happy he can’t move. He doesn’t want to know, not this time, not when he can’t help. When he can’t do anything else but die quietly, his suit - what’s left of it - grows damp with his blood despite its resistance to fluids.
A cough bubbles up wetly from his throat and his inevitable jerking makes the pain burn once more, his lungs screaming for air as he chokes on blood. With half a mind he wonders if this is what he deserves, a long drawn-out death instead of a quick one. He always thought he’d die fighting and yet the only thing he’s fighting is himself and the embrace of death. What a joke.
Suddenly he feels someone at his side, he doesn’t tense or move, if whoever is here to kill him they can just go ahead.
He doesn’t expect much, maybe someone trying to save him, someone to finish the job, someone who survived and doesn’t know what else to do. What he doesn’t expect is a hand on his hair and a soft, grating voice starting to talk to him. “Shh little one.”
Tim struggles to turn his head but the person shushes him again and starts to lean over him. He stares at her - them, whoever it is. Their voice had sounded feminine but Tim can’t tell at what he’s looking at. A person, yet somehow not, he can’t make out their face, their features changing slightly by the second. Their appearance too, and Tim wonder’s if this is a death hallucination. It hurts him to look at them.
“Who-” He manages to choke out and immediately regrets it when he starts to cough up again, blood seeping from his mouth.
“You know me, my child. You have always known me.” They say, even their voice changing with each syllable. “I have cradled you when you were born and hid you in my shadows when you chased after my protectors until you grew to be one of my protectors as well.”
Tim breaths sharply, lets out a low and wounded sound. This has to be a hallucination. “Gotham?”
“My brilliant, sharp child.” Gotham says, the wind whispering around street corners. “I apologize but I have need of you yet. I cannot say too much as the laws demand it - I might only ask.”
“A- ask… what.” Tim forces out between wheezing breaths and agony, at this point he doesn’t even care if this is not real. He won’t die alone, he won’t feel like he’d died alone.
“I may only ask if you will help me. I cannot explain more, child. Only one question.” They say, bridge beams creaking under heavy weight. “My child, protector, guardian, will you help?”
And Tim, Tim has known the answer as soon as the questions has been asked. He’s Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne and he’s never done anything but help. He can’t turn away. Maybe he shouldn’t say yes, maybe this will just cause him more suffering and yet.
And yet.
“Yes.” His voice barely more than a whisper amidst the darkness creeping into his vision. “Yes.”
“My brave child, I thank you. You will always be of me even when you are far away. I will always be your home. I cannot tell you more and I apologize for what you will have to go through but I know you will find your way home to me. Close your eyes and rest now. ”
Tim doesn’t understand, not really. He feels dizzy and slow, unable to put the pieces of the puzzle together but Gotham’s last words have worn through his defenses. Worn through his desperate grasp on life. He closes his eyes and feels himself be lifted up, yet no pain accompanies it. It feels like he could open his eyes again but he doesn’t. Gotham told him to keep them closed and he is so tired. So tired.
Suddenly there is another voice joining Gotham’s and they sound kind. Friendly. He knows the voice but he doesn’t know from where.
“He accepted, then?”
“Yes, Lady Death. I have asked him and he accepted.”
“Somehow I would not have expected anything else from him.”
“He is one of my children.”
“He is indeed. It brings me joy - I cannot often give another chance myself. This will be interesting.”
“Please take care of him, for the duration of the travel.”
“Of course. Take care, Gotham, it’s not your time yet.”
“My lady.”
Tim can’t make any sense out of the conversation, only feels like he’s being passed from the arms that have lifted him up into the arms of someone else. His hold on his consciousness is rapidly fading but something keeps him from panicking. He’s suffused by the knowledge that everything will be alright.
The last thing he hears is the sound of wings.