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Tim holds his breath as he eases the window open.
He waits-
When nothing on the inside stirs, he hauls himself up. His feet touch down on the conveniently-placed rug without a sound.
Looking around, he finds his room nearly exactly as he left it. A cluttered mess, sure, but there's a method to it. The only differences he can spot are the way the bed is rucked up and how the papers on the desk are finally organized. He makes a mental note to thank his brother for doing that.
Footsteps in the hall and Tim ducks into the closet. Just in time, too. The door hinge creaks, pauses, and creaks again as the door shuts. He hears Dick, muffled slightly: "Tim! You left your window open again!"
He doesn't hear the response, if there is any.
Tim waits in the closet for a while. It wouldn't do to be spotted, after all. In the meantime he sorts through memes on his phone and posts garbage-nonsense on his Twitter.
Eventually, the hinges squeak again.
Tim goes still. He listens carefully and is rewarded with the humming of a familiar tune.
The signal.
He steps out of the closet and comes face-to-face with Tim.
Identical in every way.
"How was it?" Tim asks, dropping his bag on the bed.
"Not half bad, actually." His counterpart strips quickly, passing the jeans and graphic tee over before pulling on his favorite hoodie and sweats. "Damian only tried to stab me once, so overall it was a positive experience."
"Anything I need to know?"
"Yeah, Jason asked about maybe going to this new bookstore? That's more your thing so I told him I'd think about it."
He pumps his fist. "Sweet, I've had my eye on that place since they started renovations."
Tim huffs at him, amused. He knows that Tim is only in it for the graphic novels. "His schedule should be clear tomorrow."
"Awesome."
Tim has just finished pulling on the shirt when the door opens.
Both of them whip around to face Jason. The man stares at Tim, then Tim, and back to Tim again.
"For frick's sake, Tim, you know you're supposed to let Bruce handle the time travel nonsense.”
The twins look at each other, blink, and then turn back to Jason.
"Uh, yeah. It's-"
"Time travel."
"Yup."
"For sure."
Jason narrows his eyes at them. Slowly, he leans back. "BRUCE," he bellows out the door.
The Tims panic, freezing like deer faced with headlights. They both stare at Jason for several agonizingly long seconds. His twin unfreezes first, scrambling for the window.
Jason lunges, just barely catching Tim's ankle before he can vault over the sill. They crash to the ground, grappling. For a moment Tim can only stare, rooted in place.
"Jason?"
Bruce is coming. From the sound of it, he's running up the stairs. He sounds worried.
Tim manages to unstick himself from the floor and rushes out into the hall, hoping to somehow turn Bruce away so they can sort this out.
"Hey, B!" Faux casual. "I pranked Jason again and now he's mad, nothing to worry about," Tim blurts the first thing that comes to mind, finishing with a smile so fake that he can feel it look fake.
Bruce stops, brow furrowing as he takes in Tim's disheveled state. "Are you-"
"There are two Tims!" Jason screams, very obviously in the middle of a scuffle.
"Snitch!" his twin shrieks.
Tim just barely yanks his arm back before Bruce can capture his wrist. It's years of training that gives him the ability to turn and bolt before Bruce can manage to grab hold of him.
Down the hall he goes, Bruce's footsteps pounding behind him. His socked feet slip on the hardwood as he rounds a corner, and he's quick to scurry out of reach. Getting his feet back underneath him while simultaneously dodging Bruce proves to be a challenge, but he manages.
Tim makes for the first floor. He knows of several hiding places down there that Bruce doesn't know about or can't reach.
Vaulting over the banister he drops into a roll to distribute the momentum then pops back up and takes off. He passes by Dick, who looks utterly bewildered. "What the-"
"Catch him!" Bruce shouts from the top of the stairs.
Dick is quick to react, leaping forward to grab at Tim.
This is bad. Tim might be able to outmaneuver Bruce, but Dick? The man is like lightning when he puts his mind to it. Between one second and the next, Tim has formulated a new plan.
He faints left and then swerves right. Dick misses him by a hair. Tim takes off down the hall again, this time in the direction of the media room.
His goal is the secret passage hidden behind the massive projector screen. Tim is fairly sure even Tim doesn't know about this particular hiding spot.
He's almost there, he can see the plush red chairs, when Damian appears. The boy has a katana in his hands and he wields it menacingly as he stands in the center of the hall.
"Halt, imposter!"
Tim does not 'halt.' In fact, he runs faster.
Damian doesn't falter, to his credit, but when he swings Tim is ready.
The blade is aimed for his legs, presumably to incapacitate without killing him, so Tim manages to jump, push off the wall, and squeak by without so much as a graze. Bonus points because the stunt barely affects his momentum.
He's off like a shot.
The media room is a no-go, since Damian is so close and would surely follow him into the passage, and Tim does not have a backup plan ready.
He's not going in blind, per se, he does know the first two floors of the manor almost as well as he does the Drake property, but-
The Drake property.
Tim changes course on a dime. If he can make it to the entrance hall, he can make a break for the mansion next door!
He runs towards the kitchen with the sliding glass door to the patio before realizing that he’s headed for Alfred’s favorite kitchen. The place in the manor Alfred spends the most time in. Oops.
The thought of in any way upsetting Alfred is, in itself, an upsetting thought. The man is the grandfather the twins had never known they needed in their lives. His brain is forthcoming with worst-case scenarios; Alfred becoming angry with them for lying, Alfred shouting at them, Alfred refusing to look at them, refusing to speak to them.
Alfred disowning them, calling them Mister Drake-
What if he ends up only loving one of them?
The logical side of his brain, the side that sounds like his twin more often than not, pipes up at last.
Tim must acknowledge that Alfred would never do any of those things. Alfred’s love for them is all-encompassing and unconditional, regardless of how many Tims there are. Besides! The whole family jokes that the grandfather-butler is all-knowing, maybe he was already aware and just never said anything.
Tim, personally, thinks that is unlikely, but the thought is enough to push the anxiety away.
Through all of this he’s still running, at least two of his family members hot on his heels. Dick is making quips about doppelgangers and Damian is spouting vitriol. Both are demanding he stop. He’s not sure if Bruce is with them, the man can run silently when he wants to, and he isn’t prone to shouting.
Or Bruce split off and is planning to ambush Tim somewhere ahead.
Deciding that this is the more likely option, Tim decides to do what he does best: be an unpredictable little shit.
He veers right with no warning (and without sliding this time) and sets course for the massive entrance hall. It takes him nearly ten minutes, what with dodging down generally-unused hallways and doubling back as many times as he did. He also needed to elude the various attempts from Dick to lunge at Tim, and the four-or-so knives that lodge themselves into the walls, gifts from Damian.
Unfortunately, it looks like Bruce has once again proven to be the better detective, because he's looming in front of the massive oak doors. When Tim flies out of the hallway, the man's eyes narrow and his stance shifts to battle-ready.
Tim, once again, is left without a plan, and this time he definitely doesn't have a backup.
Damian and Dick are hot on his heels. He can't stop now. Tim needs to think of something, anything-
His hand snaps out and catches the pole holding up the grand staircase's banister. His stomach drops as he whips around ninety degrees, still at full speed. Up the steps, two at a time, while his brothers trip over each other trying to make the same sharp turn.
He reaches the top, the barest threads of a plan coalescing in his head (the attic- he can hide there-) only to see his sister moving at a determined pace in his direction.
Outrunning Bruce is one thing, outrunning Dick an entirely different one, but Cass? He's fucked.
He turns, deciding he'd rather try his luck against Dick and Damian, but now Bruce is stalking up the stairs.
He's trapped.
Panic overtakes his entire brain.
That's the only excuse he can think of for why he decides that jumping into the chandelier is a good idea.
The crystals tinkle pleasantly with the swinging of the fixture, incongruous with how desperately Tim clings to the wrought iron frame.
The various family members involved in the chase gather along the balcony railing.
Bruce is, of course, glaring at him with the heat of a thousand suns. He speaks through gritted teeth: "I don't know who you are, or why you decided to impersonate my son-"
"I'm not impersonating anybody!" Tim rushes to defend himself.
"I find that hard to believe."
Tim looks to the heavens, as if they might contain some solace.
They do not.
“I swear that there’s a reasonable explanation for this.”
“Get down from there.” Bruce's voice is somewhere between 'dad' and 'the night.'
“Only if you promise not to be mad.”
"What the hell are you talking about?" Bruce looks bewildered, which is normally a funny expression on his face, but now it's inconvenient because Tim genuinely wants his dad to agree. Also the anger. That’s bad. "I am not promising that! What the hell even-" He starts mutter-growling to himself as he continues to glare daggers.
Damn it.
This is, of course, the point at which Jason makes his presence known. He walks down the second floor hallway whistling a jaunty tune.
From his perch Tim watches as his twin is carried, no longer struggling, out to the balcony. Jason has Tim slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"You seriously got caught by just Jason?"
Jason squints up at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Both Tims speak in sync: "You're slow."
Jason rears back, making an extremely offended noise. He's obviously about to bark some scathing retort, but Bruce holds up a hand to silence him.
(He sees Cass make the sign for laughter.)
He points at Tim, clearly losing his patience. "You! I'm going to tell you one more time: come down here, now."
"Hold your horses, B. I'm coming." He makes his way down from the light fixture and, predictably, Bruce goes for a solid grip on his upper arm. Y'know, in case he decides to run again. Which. Fair.
At least it won't leave bruises.
"Because you've made it clear you both know who we are, we'll be taking this discussion downstairs."
Tim represses a shudder at the tone his adoptive father is speaking to him with. It reminds him starkly of how Bruce spoke to them when they first became Robin. It's not a good thing to be reminded of.
The trip to the cave is short and quiet. Tim has no idea what he should say- what he can say to fix this. Both Tims have made themselves look incredibly guilty, what with the escape attempts.
The frigid looks he's receiving from just about everyone are chilling his bones. Bruce isn't rough, exactly, when he tosses Tim in the 'containment room,' but he's not gentle either. The door shuts with a hiss-click.
Each Tim is in a separate cell, peering out from behind thoroughly reinforced glass.
"Is this really necessary?" Tim looks at his twin, across from him, then back to Bruce. Tim has a point, this all feels like an overreaction.
"You'll both be staying right where you are until we can determine which, if either of you, is the real Tim."
"There is no 'real Tim.' We're both Tim." He just needs to convince Bruce, and everyone else will accept it. Eventually.
"Highly unlikely," Bruce states.
At the same time Dick asks: "How is that possible?"
"We're the same person," Tim says, causing irritation to stir in Tim's gut. He hates when Tim says they're the same person because it's such a gross oversimplification of their situation.
"That's not really-"
Tim speaks over him. "We are both Tim Drake because we're the same person."
"As in… multiverse?" Dick looks hopeful. "You both are Tim Drake, but from different dimensions?"
"No, not-"
Tim speaks over him, again. "No, as in we are literally-"
"Will you be quiet?" Tim snaps. The irritation has flooded his body, turning to real anger and heating his blood. He physically cannot handle hearing his twin say they're the same person one more time.
Tim jolts, startled. "Excuse me?"
"The last time I let you explain something, Dick nearly had us institutionalized," he snarls, pointing an accusing finger.
Dick, still standing at Bruce's side, sucks in a breath through his teeth.
It's not really about that, though.
His twin stares at him through the glass of their cells, astonished in the worst way.
Tim doesn't often let his emotions get the best of him. Even rarer is it for him to take things out on his other half.
He feels his face heat up again, this time with shame.
"Fine," his twin says, voice deliberately flat and cold in a way that reminds him of Janet. "The floor is yours."
Tim hesitates, wanting to apologize but not wanting to drag out their Twin Drama(™) in front of their dad and siblings.
He decides, glancing between the family and Tim, to do it later. In private.
He turns to face Bruce, the one they really have to sell this to.
"Again, there is no 'real' Tim. We're both Timothy Drake-Wayne; we both live here ninety percent of the time. Both of us have been stabbed by Damian and both of us have daydreamed about punching Jason in the balls-"
"What?"
Tim snorts. "No, that one is just you."
"Well after the Titans Tower incident I think I deserve a nut-punch or two," he says haughtily, crossing his arms.
Tim tips his head in deference. "You know, that's actually fair."
"Thank you. Anyway, as I was saying; we are both Tim. We have basically always been two people."
"How."
Ah, Bruce. Such a way with words.
"When we were, what, two or three?" He looks at Tim and receives a curt nod. "Somewhere in the toddler range. Our parents got sick of trying to tell us apart and decided to just treat us like we were the same person. They 'only needed one heir,' after all." Tim says mockingly, making quotes with his hands. "They picked Timothy to stick with so we both learned to answer to it." He pauses to take a breath and Tim picks up where he left off.
"We didn't really have a choice in the matter, so we adjusted. We took turns going to preschool and then kindergarten, made sure to keep each other up to date on what we learned. We had a whole system."
Tim takes back the proverbial torch. "These days it's pretty smooth. I'll go into the office one day, he'll go the next. We trade off on the weekly family nights so neither of us-"
"Do you have any idea how fucked this is?" Dick just snaps.
The cave is silent.
Both Tims stare at him, wide eyed.
His twin is the first to speak. "It's really… not, though. We're perfectly functional. Besides," he gives the family a smile they both copied from Jason-Robin, crooked and mirthful. "Between the two of us there are half the problems to deal with."
Tim nods, because they have to present a united front. It's a joke they've made for years now, making light of their situation. He doesn't exactly agree with the sentiment, but Tim doesn't need to know that.
Dick shakes his head, flabbergasted. "Functional? That's not a high bar to clear!"
"I can't believe I'm agreeing with him, but Dick is right," Jason says, dragging a hand down his face. "I'm functional. Do you want to be anything like me?"
"Self-deprecation jar," says about half the people present.
Alfred, stealthy as ever, appears from the shadows holding the aforementioned jar. Jason pulls out his wallet, quietly asking what he owes.
Bruce, disgruntled by the interruption, pipes up again. "There are no records indicating the Drakes had another child."
Both Tims snort derisively, then glance at each other. Tim indicates for his other half to go on.
"Jack and Janet were nowhere near Wayne status, but they were plenty wealthy. You all know how money greases the wheels of bureaucracy."
Jason is apparently done shelling out to Alfred, because he steps forward so he can glare at both of them more effectively. "So you are where when the other one is here?"
"Ah." It makes sense that he'd want to make sure they weren't, essentially, homeless. "When we first started out as Robin, whoever wasn't being a vigilante was staying at the Drake property."
"Pretty much as soon as we were confident that we could cover our tracks we used our parents' money to get an apartment."
"You have… an apartment." Jason narrows his eyes.
"Yeah, it's pretty nice."
"It's where I keep those photos I used to take, and where he stashes his exotic coffees." Tim is delighted when Tim glares at him playfully, and retorts with:
"Also his secret graphic novel collection."
Tim gasps dramatically, placing a splayed hand on his chest. He's about to retort, but the sound of a polite cough draws the attention of the room. Alfred stands at the back of the group.
"I must say, it's a relief to see you both in one place. For the longest time I've wondered if my mind was playing tricks on me."
Tim gapes. "You knew?"
"Of course I knew, my boy. Have you ever asked your co-conspirator what drink I serve him at breakfast?"
Tim doesn't need to think hard to realize they've never discussed what drink to have Alfred give them in the morning. He receives- "Tea."
"Coffee!" His twin's eyes are wide.
“Oh my fucking god, Alfred really does know everything.”
“Tim-”
“No, hold on,” he says, rubbing at his temples. “I’m wrapping my head around the existence of a truly omnipotent person."
Bruce turns to Alfred, carefully blank face betraying his hurt feelings. "How long have you known?"
Alfred sighs heavily. "Far longer than I'm comfortable with, I'm afraid."
"Why didn't you say anything?" Tim's twin blurts the question.
"What he said," adds Dick, jerking a thumb at him.
"I felt it would be detrimental to the both of you if you were… I suppose 'outed' is the most accurate way to put it."
Damian, who had been conspicuously silent throughout the whole endeavor, pipes up at last. "Why did you keep this a secret? Did you not trust Father enough to reveal yourselves, or were you simply too cowardly to come forward?"
"I'll show you a coward," Tim mutters angrily in the opposing cell. Tim decides to take over before his twin tries to start a fight.
"At first," Tim interjects before Damian can provoke Tim again, "we figured Bruce wouldn't be able to do anything about it since we weren't connected at all, publicly or legally. Regardless, for most of our lives, it was just the way things were. Why would we tell anybody when it's normal?"
His twin once again picks up where he leaves off. "It wasn't until, what, last year?" Tim looks to him for confirmation and he nods. "Yeah, last year we - and by we I mean him - started looking into those crummy self-help books."
Dick makes an offended noise. "Those books are really helpful!"
"Only when they're by actual psychologists with real qualifications."
Tim rolls his eyes. "Not this again."
"Yes, this again. The man who wrote that book had zero qualifications and you should feel bad about giving him your money."
"Just because somebody doesn't have access to college education doesn't mean-"
"He lied about attending college!"
"Doesn't mean," Tim barrels on, "that he can't have decent ideas!"
"I swear to-"
"Boys!"
Both of them snap to attention, blinking innocently.
"I'm still not entirely convinced," Bruce says, and the whole room groans.
"Seriously," Tim drags a hand down his face, "why haven't we called Diana to use the lasso?"
The room stills.
"Y'know, that's actually a good idea."
"Thank you, Jason. I have those on occasion."
They call Diana.
She’s a busy woman, being a princess and a diplomat, so it takes a bit for her to get there. The time is spent in agonizingly awkward silence.
The teleportation pad, connected to the Watchtower and guarded with special codes and security protocols,
Diana takes one glance at them, both still in containment cells, and turns to Bruce with a judgemental look and a raised eyebrow.
“Hn.”
"Don't look at him," Tim says, trying not to laugh. "He has no idea what's going on."
Diana turns to face him, curiosity leaking into her guarded expression. "Is that so?"
"We keep telling him but he's in denial," his twin responds.
"And I suppose you need the lasso to prove yourselves truthful."
"Yup."
"Uh-huh."
"Very well then. If you wouldn't mind?" She gestures to his cell, waiting for someone to step forward and open it.
Bruce does, giving Tim a look that he knows means 'no trouble.' Diana steps into the containment room with a soft smile, gently wrapping the golden rope around his outheld wrist. It glows brightly, and Tim feels something unmistakably magic wash over him.
"What is your name?"
"Timothy Wayne." Tim blinks, a little surprised, because his legal surname is currently Drake-Wayne.
"Are you any sort of shapeshifter, doppelganger, alternate self, or other means of replacing the Timothy Wayne that belongs with this family?"
"No, I am not."
"Do you intend to harm anyone here?"
"No."
The lasso slips off his wrist, and that blanket of magic fades as it does. "Thank you, Tim."
The Amazon princess moves on and Tim is, after nearly two hours, finally allowed to leave the damn cell.
Cass is the first to approach him. She walks up, giving him a hug as well as a relieved grin. Tim gives her a smile in return.
He watches as Diana asks his twin the same questions, and receives nearly identical answers. (Tim notes that Tim also names Wayne as his surname.) Tim is released from his cell as well, making a dramatic show of stretching and sighing as he leaves.
Diana claims a nearby chair, causing a quick shuffle for everyone else to grab seats. Both Tims choose to simply sit on the empty work bench, where they normally do repairs to their equipment. Tim sits cross-legged, and his twin hugs his knees. Their shoulders brush, slightly. The princess proceeds to give them a curious look-over. “Now, tell me how there came to be two Tim Waynes.”
His twin is first to speak. “It all started in the maternity wing of Martha Wayne Memorial Hospital, on a muggy overcast day in July-”
Damian snaps at them, where he sits criss-cross applesauce (fucking kindergarten ) on the cave floor. “Drake, I swear if you don’t get to the point…” His katana makes another appearance.
Tim takes over, then, rolling his eyes fondly at his other half’s antics. He summarizes for Diana the same things they said before, holding his hand up at and bulldozing through any attempt to interrupt. When he finishes, he tacks on: “The floor is now open for questions.”
“You are such a little shit,” scoffs Jason, but Tim can see in his eyes that he’s amused.
Damian, being a thirteen-year-old, raises his hand. Tim points to him.
“If there have always been two Drakes, which one did I push off the dinosaur?”
“Damian!” Dick and Bruce chorus.
“What? “ he says indignantly. “They already said that Todd attacked… the one wearing jeans.” Damian squints at them. “How are we to tell you apart?”
Tim looks at Tim, hoping for ideas. Unfortunately, his twin looks just as stumped.
They both turn back to the group. “Excellent question.”
Dick has a suggestion. “Maybe you could wear wristbands? With different colors, or something?”
“Dibs on rainbow,” he blurts immediately, causing Tim to turn on him with an outraged expression.
“How dare you-”
“Boys. On-topic, please.” Diana chides them in a velvet-over-steel voice. Bruce rubs at his temples.
“Sure, yeah.”
“Sorry.”
“Anyway…” Dick trails off, looking at them like they might start another petty argument at any moment. Which he supposes is fair. “How should we refer to you? If you’re both Tim, things will get confusing really quick-”
“We’re both Tim.”
“What he said.”
Dick hesitates. “And neither of you would be okay with, I don’t know, going by your middle na-”
“No.”
“Why not take on new identities?” Jason quirks a pierced eyebrow at them, crossing his arms and leaning back. “Become your own people and-”
“Absolutely not,” Tim snaps with an instant ferocity that causes Tim to jump. He looks at his twin, blinking. Was his other half even considering the merits of separating themselves from Timothy, as an identity? Tim certainly is.
But. The thought of not being Tim? That sends a shock of fear and dread like a lance into his sternum. He sets a hard expression on his face. “No, we’re fine the way we are.” He’ll give it more thought at a later date. When he’s ready.
Cass, who had earlier dragged her chair to be on his left, places a reassuring hand on his knee.
For now, they’re fine the way they are.