Yesterday Is Tomorrow
Title: Yesterday Is Tomorrow
Fandom: DC Comics
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: DC abuses them more than me.
Summary: The inevitable end comes, a product of his own scheming, and Tim's existence collapses around him.
Notes: This was first posted in January of 2008. I had originally attached it to A Hero's Causatum, which was a 5 drabbles story. I decided later it would work better as a stand alone, especially since it had a specific setting whereas the other pieces didn't. This is set at the end of the 2004 Titans of Tomorrow arc Teen Titans v.3 16-19. It does make one reference to the Resurrection of Ra's al Ghul storyline, which was current at the time.
As a side note, I have no idea why the printer in Tim's Batcave printer is a tractor-feed printer. It didn't occur to me when I wrote it that's what it was and how out of place it would be, but I decided I like it there, so there it stays.
.:R:.
No matter how cool the first Superman movie made time travel look, Tim conceded the real thing couldn't match up to the Hollywood glamour. Not that he hadn't traveled through time due to super speed, but the visual wasn't there: Earth spinning backwards. Of course, from the fictional Superman's point of view, Earth wouldn't be spinning backwards either; one would have to watch from space to see that. And if it was just Earth rotating backwards, how would the rest of the universe be able to interact with Earth and the time gap?
Perhaps the lack of cool in real time travel was the headache. Not a step-on-a-butterfly-and-prevent-his-own-birth paradox headache, but the headache that came from feeling his own memories change; knowing that he might not be the same present-Batman as he was before younger-still-naively-good-past-Robin's arrival. Worse, knowing that future-Tim might not retain present-Batman's memories at all.
Pushing the cowl back from his face, Tim dropped into his computer chair. He spun the chair with one foot, aware it was probably the first time Batman had sprawled out relaxed in the cave. At least the first time since he joined what he then believed to be a family. Dick had spoken of that mysterious Golden Age where the villain's schemes were as bad as his puns. Then, Bruce might've relaxed, was relaxed if Dick's judgment concerning Bruce could ever be trusted. But during those times, Tim had been on the outside behind a camera lens that could not see past the streets. Both present-Batman and past-Robin had been that stubborn child with slight stalker tendencies. Now they were not the same person, but soon they would be again.
When he had seen past-Robin, Tim knew his present -- his counterpart's future -- was inevitable. It had already occurred; it had been written into history. True, Tim knew his younger self would resist him, but he had the advantage of remembering how his counterpart would fail. Or he used to remember.
The largest obstacle in Tim's way in discussing the present was the ideal image of Robin, Nightwing, and the disgraced image of Robin, the Red Hood. That was the true mental block he found in the mind of past-Robin, the mind that had once been his. His younger counterpart tortured himself over the name Robin: a torment which seemed trivial to Tim, as most teenage angst seemed trivial to adults. Past-Robin hadn't understood Jason's chaos and Tim's order were unalike in every way but the gun.
Somehow that torment played differently for his younger self. In a battle of wills, past-Robin had won. They would be one again, but at the price of present-Batman's existence.
The chair stopped spinning long enough for Tim to check for any long range communications from Dick. Tearing the printout off the printer, he sank into the chair again as he read the latest news from across the galaxy. Dick seemed completely oblivious to Tim's new world order, a calculated condition of edited truths. For all his younger self's determination, many opportunities to fight the so called future had been ignored; he never could've sincerely joined forces with Luthor had Dick stayed on Earth.
Yet, Dick had known the possibilities of what could happen when he left, had heard stories of both Titan clashes, and still left. Was it a sign of Dick's consent, of indifference, or that blind faith which believed Robin would pour out his sample of the Lazarus Pit so long ago? Dick never believed in absolute futures; he survived too many false prophecies to do so. Had Dick been so determined not to believe in the future to allow himself to be so easily duped?
Tim paused as he felt another memory change ripple through him. His younger self's plan to return to the past seemed to still be altering the time stream. He had memories of that plan from two perspectives, but soon he would only posses past-Robin's memories, as he would never be present-Batman. If he would ever be Batman at all anymore. Oddly, the notion made him smile as he realized past-Robin was the first to truly best Batman since Tim had claimed the cowl. It was an echo of the smile for himself, this time for an empty cave.
Tim glanced down at the letter. It remained the same. Be happy, little brother. Maybe Dick's faith had not been misplaced after all.
Some memories remained the same: his birthday and the pact with Luthor. However, his intentions had changed and with it, everything else.
Tim was waiting at the end of time for history to catch up with him. Waiting and on a sabbatical, he decided. Perhaps the memory change would halt and he would remain as a ghost between dimensions, flashing in and out of a world to which he did not belong. That would be preferable to losing everything he was to the new future past-Robin was creating. Still, no matter the changes or infinite crises, he would always exist in the mind of Timothy Drake, in the Titan files, and the myths of superheroes.
Time travel was a headache, even in that step-on-a-butterfly-and-prevent-his-own-birth paradox.
Next time Tim was determined to watch the Earth spin backwards.
Dick, as much as I have written my own destiny, at this exact moment I have no control over my past or future. I am on a path which you let me stumble down blindly. And, without a doubt, I am happy. -Tim
.:R:.
Fandom: DC Comics
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: DC abuses them more than me.
Summary: The inevitable end comes, a product of his own scheming, and Tim's existence collapses around him.
Notes: This was first posted in January of 2008. I had originally attached it to A Hero's Causatum, which was a 5 drabbles story. I decided later it would work better as a stand alone, especially since it had a specific setting whereas the other pieces didn't. This is set at the end of the 2004 Titans of Tomorrow arc Teen Titans v.3 16-19. It does make one reference to the Resurrection of Ra's al Ghul storyline, which was current at the time.
As a side note, I have no idea why the printer in Tim's Batcave printer is a tractor-feed printer. It didn't occur to me when I wrote it that's what it was and how out of place it would be, but I decided I like it there, so there it stays.
.:R:.
No matter how cool the first Superman movie made time travel look, Tim conceded the real thing couldn't match up to the Hollywood glamour. Not that he hadn't traveled through time due to super speed, but the visual wasn't there: Earth spinning backwards. Of course, from the fictional Superman's point of view, Earth wouldn't be spinning backwards either; one would have to watch from space to see that. And if it was just Earth rotating backwards, how would the rest of the universe be able to interact with Earth and the time gap?
Perhaps the lack of cool in real time travel was the headache. Not a step-on-a-butterfly-and-prevent-his-own-birth paradox headache, but the headache that came from feeling his own memories change; knowing that he might not be the same present-Batman as he was before younger-still-naively-good-past-Robin's arrival. Worse, knowing that future-Tim might not retain present-Batman's memories at all.
Pushing the cowl back from his face, Tim dropped into his computer chair. He spun the chair with one foot, aware it was probably the first time Batman had sprawled out relaxed in the cave. At least the first time since he joined what he then believed to be a family. Dick had spoken of that mysterious Golden Age where the villain's schemes were as bad as his puns. Then, Bruce might've relaxed, was relaxed if Dick's judgment concerning Bruce could ever be trusted. But during those times, Tim had been on the outside behind a camera lens that could not see past the streets. Both present-Batman and past-Robin had been that stubborn child with slight stalker tendencies. Now they were not the same person, but soon they would be again.
When he had seen past-Robin, Tim knew his present -- his counterpart's future -- was inevitable. It had already occurred; it had been written into history. True, Tim knew his younger self would resist him, but he had the advantage of remembering how his counterpart would fail. Or he used to remember.
The largest obstacle in Tim's way in discussing the present was the ideal image of Robin, Nightwing, and the disgraced image of Robin, the Red Hood. That was the true mental block he found in the mind of past-Robin, the mind that had once been his. His younger counterpart tortured himself over the name Robin: a torment which seemed trivial to Tim, as most teenage angst seemed trivial to adults. Past-Robin hadn't understood Jason's chaos and Tim's order were unalike in every way but the gun.
Somehow that torment played differently for his younger self. In a battle of wills, past-Robin had won. They would be one again, but at the price of present-Batman's existence.
The chair stopped spinning long enough for Tim to check for any long range communications from Dick. Tearing the printout off the printer, he sank into the chair again as he read the latest news from across the galaxy. Dick seemed completely oblivious to Tim's new world order, a calculated condition of edited truths. For all his younger self's determination, many opportunities to fight the so called future had been ignored; he never could've sincerely joined forces with Luthor had Dick stayed on Earth.
Yet, Dick had known the possibilities of what could happen when he left, had heard stories of both Titan clashes, and still left. Was it a sign of Dick's consent, of indifference, or that blind faith which believed Robin would pour out his sample of the Lazarus Pit so long ago? Dick never believed in absolute futures; he survived too many false prophecies to do so. Had Dick been so determined not to believe in the future to allow himself to be so easily duped?
Tim paused as he felt another memory change ripple through him. His younger self's plan to return to the past seemed to still be altering the time stream. He had memories of that plan from two perspectives, but soon he would only posses past-Robin's memories, as he would never be present-Batman. If he would ever be Batman at all anymore. Oddly, the notion made him smile as he realized past-Robin was the first to truly best Batman since Tim had claimed the cowl. It was an echo of the smile for himself, this time for an empty cave.
Tim glanced down at the letter. It remained the same. Be happy, little brother. Maybe Dick's faith had not been misplaced after all.
Some memories remained the same: his birthday and the pact with Luthor. However, his intentions had changed and with it, everything else.
Tim was waiting at the end of time for history to catch up with him. Waiting and on a sabbatical, he decided. Perhaps the memory change would halt and he would remain as a ghost between dimensions, flashing in and out of a world to which he did not belong. That would be preferable to losing everything he was to the new future past-Robin was creating. Still, no matter the changes or infinite crises, he would always exist in the mind of Timothy Drake, in the Titan files, and the myths of superheroes.
Time travel was a headache, even in that step-on-a-butterfly-and-prevent-his-own-birth paradox.
Next time Tim was determined to watch the Earth spin backwards.
Dick, as much as I have written my own destiny, at this exact moment I have no control over my past or future. I am on a path which you let me stumble down blindly. And, without a doubt, I am happy. -Tim
.:R:.