Chapter Text
Jason doesn't do well with confinement. He especially doesn't do well with confinement with others, let alone when that other is his adopted-dad turned enemy turned maybe-dad again.
He's not sure how long it's been since the Doctor and his crony disappeared back into the Cave proper. At least an hour. Jason shouted for their attention until his voice was hoarse, then dropped down on the floor in the corner of the cell, knees drawn up to his chest. Bruce has been trying - and failing - to draw Dick into conversation.
"Come on, chum," he says softly as Jason scoffs and bangs his head back against the wall. "Just let me know you're okay."
Dick is dissociating. Jason doesn't need a doctor to tell him that. Apparently Bruce does because he ignores Jason every time he suggests that Dick isn't all there right now
and continues to talk to the checked-out vigilante.
Tim hasn't moved. Lying in the position Dick placed him in. Jason tries not to let that worry him. There's no obvious marks or injury. Rationally, he knows it's likely whatever knocked them out was dosed for people his and Bruce's size; being a lot smaller, it's no wonder Tim is taking a while to come around. Rationally. But there's that tiny voice in his mind whispering over and over that Tim is dead and Dick is gone and he and Bruce are stuck in a cell together until they, too, die.
His breathing stutters. Bruce glances at him. He shakes his head, forcing himself to calm down. They have water; there's high energy protein bars stocked in each cell. No way this situation goes longer than a few days before it ends, one way or another. He's not going to panic over being locked up. He refuses to give the asshole who tortured his brother the satisfaction.
God, he should have let Damian kill the Doctor when he had the chance.
Footsteps head towards them. Jason glances up to see the Doctor, without Mike. He ignores Dick and Tim, instead coming to a stop in front of their door.
Bruce straightens up. Waits for the Doctor to speak.
Jason curls his hands into fists. Digs in enough to leave indents. Follows Bruce's lead.
"My apologies for not coming to have a proper chat sooner," the Doctor says, all smiles except for his cold, hard eyes. "And thank you for lending me your base, Mr Wayne. After the decimation of my own assets, I needed somewhere with the vast resources required to both help me disappear and provide me with a new start to my business. As you so kindly destroyed the records of my career, I thought you may wish to help me restart. I believe you have files of your own on all known heroes, correct?"
Jason snorts. Because of course he does.
Bruce still doesn't speak. The Doctor's smile fades, ever so slightly, and he looks towards Jason. "Mr Todd. The Robin who came back to life. Although," a pleasant chuckle, "that's hardly a rare title these days. Tell me, where is the younger Mr Wayne?"
"Fuck if I know."
Away. For a week, he thinks, searching desperately to when Dick told him. Gone for two nights already so that's, what, five more before Damian potentially walks into this shitshow?
"Language, Mr Todd." The smile grows hard. Unpleasant. "You'll find I don't tolerate bad manners. And whilst I don't intend to be here long, I do intend our time together to be fruitful. There is no reason you can't help me whilst I mine the Cave for what I need. Think of it as not so much an experiment as a field test. Which reminds me, Mr Wayne. It's rude to stare."
Bruce is staring. It's all he's doing. Wordlessly watching the Doctor as the villain shifts his weight, sizes Bruce up in return.
Jason shakes his head. "The Bat's socially inept at the best of times, George."
A flash of irritation. "You will refer to me as the Doctor or not at all, Mr Todd."
"Why?" Jason shoots back with a languid shrug. "How come you get to use our civilian names, but we have to use your super special villain one?"
The Doctor stares back at Bruce. "Because I am the one in control here."
Bruce finally reacts. His brow furrows; he looks the Doctor up and down and says, "No. You're not."
"Excuse me, Mr Wayne?"
"Your brother broke you out before you intended. You weren't in control of the escape, and you're not in control now. Coming here was the act of a desperate man." There's a touch of cold satisfaction in his voice when Bruce adds, "You don't have a contingency plan, so you've come for mine."
Jason glances from Bruce to the Doctor. The villain is silent. Staring back at Bruce. The hint of frustration has gone from his face. He's looking at Bruce in the same sort of way Jason's seen Damian contemplate rare birds.
"Truly fascinating," the Doctor says eventually, the smile returning. "You are correct, of course. Accessing the Cave was a last resort. A Hail Mary, if you will. I need resources and information to rebuild, both of which you have in abundance. And you, Mr Wayne, are going to give me everything I need."
"And if he doesn't?" Jason snaps.
Without hesitation, the Doctor turns his smile in his direction. "Then it is a good thing he has children to spare."
* * * *
"This is bullshit."
Oliver ignores Hal, concentrating instead on the soothing movements of notching another arrow. They've retreated to one of the quieter areas of the Watchtower: it used to be the training room before the Watchtower became bigger and busier and Bats installed the simulator instead. Oliver prefers the thud of an arrow hitting a real object; he smirks in satisfaction when the head of the dummy he was aiming for flies off.
"Big Blue's just trying to protect us," Barry says, all calm and reason in the face of Hal's anger. He's sitting on a crate full of old equipment, cross-legged like a child, cowl down so they can see his mop of blond hair.
"Last I checked, Supes wasn't my boss." Hal raises his hand and shoots an arrow construct at the next dummy. Just to be petty. The arrow is, of course, green.
Oliver lowers his bow and gives Hal an unimpressed look. "You're the only one of us with bosses," he says. "And, last I checked, they want to bench you too."
Hal makes a face. "They want me back on Oa for their version of a psych eval. Not the same thing. That's just fucking Guy not being able to mind his own business."
"All Clark said was he'd prefer it if we stayed on the Watchtower until the - until he's caught." Barry shrugs. "Seems reasonable to me."
"And if he's not caught?" Hal presses. "Iris happy for you to grow old together up here?"
"She's just happy I'm safe." There's a pause. Barry sighs. "It was traumatic for them too, you know."
The bow strums. Three arrows loose and hit their targets.
"Hal knows that," Oliver says calmly. "And you know that Hal doesn't like being told what to do."
Never did. Likes it even less after what they went through.
Hal scowls, finally stopping pacing and dropping down onto the crate next to Barry. "Look, you had your raging moment with Supes. Can you just let me have mine in peace?"
"If you take it somewhere else, sure."
There's companionable silence for a few minutes. Hal leans back so that he's flat across the crate, legs dangling off the end. Barry is resting a hand on his arm. Oliver's not even sure he's aware of it; it's just instinct now when one of them is stressed.
There's a prominent missing presence. Oliver glances to the side of Hal, as though expecting Dick to be there. Likely sitting cross-legged like Barry. Last time the four of them had been in here, Dick had taken out five dummies by flinging five dangerously sharp knives he had concealed somehow on his skin-tight suit. When Hal had asked him at what age, exactly, Bats had thought it appropriate to teach him that, Dick had shrugged and told them he didn't. That Deathstroke had taught him that particular move.
Oliver smiles at the memory. He had lost his shit: it had taken Barry and Hal, who weren't as familiar with the mercenary, to calm him down long enough for Dick to explain.
The smile falters.
"He should be here."
Neither of them have to ask who he means.
Hal grunts in agreement. Barry shakes his head. "He's safe. He's with Batman."
"How does that make him safe? I've been in this game as long as Bats and I -" Oliver takes a deep breath. Tries to ignore images of white walls and screaming pain. "He'd be safer here," he says evenly. "And you know he'd want to be with us right now."
"Spooky probably has him locked up in Wayne Manor like Rapunzel. Hell," Hal snorts, "maybe that's why the kid was letting his hair grow. He knew this would happen one day."
"You messaged him earlier," Barry says. "Any reply?"
Oliver shakes his head. Not yet. And he tells himself that's all it is. A not yet, rather than a not able to.
The thought sits unpleasantly. He turns, and shoots another arrow.
* * * *
Tim wakes, and immediately regrets the decision. Everything aches. He's got a pounding headache that usually comes with a distinct lack of caffeine and a pain behind his eyes that usually comes from too long behind a screen. He doesn't remember being behind a screen. He doesn't remember much of anything past getting home from patrol and -
Gas, he thinks, eyes flinging open to stare up at a familiar rocky ceiling. There had been gas. And they had let their guards down because they were in the cave, no rebreathers, no helmet, just plain old Tim and Jason and Bruce. Dick had come home earlier so it was just the three of them, and Tim thanks whatever hellish God is watching over him for that. Whatever's going down in the Cave, a just-about recovered Dick doesn't need to be a part of it.
Tim rolls over with a groan - and sees Dick sat in the corner of the containment cell, knees drawn to his chin, staring straight ahead.
His groan tapers off into a sigh. Clearly, his God has a sense of humour.
"Tim? Are you awake?"
It takes a tremendous amount of effort to persuade his limbs to roll him back over. Jason and Bruce are in the opposite cell; it was Bruce who spoke, face a picture of concern.
"Present and not quite correct," Tim says, stretching out as much as he can. "Remind me to check Cave's defences. Dark spot in back way in."
Bruce's lips twitch, just a little. "I'll make a note."
"May be a little late for that," Jason says darkly. "Tim, when you're able to do more than roll can you check on Big Bird for us?"
Tim frowns, trying to glance behind him. "Hurt?"
Jason shakes his head, and Bruce clarifies, "Dissociative episode."
Jason makes a strange noise that may have been a laugh in a less tense situation. "So you do know what's happening? I was thinking we needed to redo your trauma training."
Tim puts a concerted effort into kneeling. It takes far longer than it should, but his muscles are slowly starting to respond. There's a strange itch on his throat. He rubs it absent-mindedly when he manages to get upright.
"The Doctor?" he says, looking warily at his eldest brother's too-still form.
Bruce nods. "In the Cave. He's after information, trying to access my files." There's a pause as Tim shuffles closer to Dick. When Bruce next speaks, his voice is gruff. "He will likely try and use the three of you against me to ensure cooperation."
"Which you won't give him," Jason says easily.
Silence for a moment. Tim very gently takes Dick's wrist and feels his steady, slow pulse under his fingers.
"No," Bruce says finally. "I can't."
"Fun times ahead then." Jason stretches as though unbothered and Tim glances over his shoulder at him. "What? Not like none of us have been tortured before. And he's not going to have us for six weeks. Doesn't matter if Dick-Bat told the League we're offline, that's only going to work for a few days. Five tops."
Because in five days Damian is due home. Tim understands the message, even if he's not sure why Dick told the League they're offline, and he sees from Bruce's tensing that he does too. One way or another, this situation will escalate or end in five days.
"You should have let me blow him up when I had the chance," Tim says, turning Dick's hand over and watching his brother's face for any flash of awareness.
"No blowing anyone up."
"I agree with Mr Wayne."
The three vigilantes tense; the Doctor appears around the corner, his brother hulking behind him. Tim's eyes widen. Because he looked into the man who hurt Dick and the others. Of course he did. The shadowy man who made it his business to be the connection villains went to for any information about heroes. He always looked like a mild-mannered accountant in photos.
Now, he looks manic. Hair too long and straggly. Eyes too wide. Frame too lanky. He doesn't look like a middle class middle man anymore; he looks like a Rogue.
"Wow," Tim says. "Gotham really brought out the crazy in you."
"Thank you, Mr Drake. Although I'm afraid my appearance is the result of eleven months of solitary, not Gotham."
"Talk to me, not my sons," Bruce says firmly. "I'm the one with the information you want."
The Doctor glances at him, and then turns his back on the second cell.
"Hey," Jason yells, "he's talking to you!"
"A delightful attempt all around to take my attention off the youngest, but you have no need to worry. I came to ask Mr Wayne where he's hidden his infamous contingency plans, but find myself... distracted."
"I can't give you those plans," Bruce says.
And Tim wishes he would shut up, because the Doctor isn't listening.
He's staring at Dick.
"He's dissociating," Tim says, moving in front of his brother. He shrugs, going for relaxed, unaffected, but his heart is pounding as he adds, "Pretty useless to you right now."
The Doctor shoots him a smile. "No fear, Mr Drake. This happened in our sessions sometimes. Go to the far edge of the cell please."
Tim frowns. "No."
"Tim -"
"Such disobedient children, Mr Wayne." The Doctor tuts, and gestures Mike closer. Mike has one of Dick's escrima sticks in his hand, Tim realises. It looks ridiculously small against the large man. "I really don't have time to teach manners, Mr Drake. Go to the far edge of the cell, or I will open this door and shoot your brother in the head. As you said," the Doctor chuckles, holding up a pistol for Tim's inspection, "he is rather useless to me right now."
Tim stares.
Out on the street, as Red Robin, he wouldn't even hesitate. One man with a gun is no match for him. But in here? Cramped in a cell with a brother who cannot currently defend himself, as Tim Drake. Against a psycho who has repeatedly out-manouvered the Justice League and his super-strong sidekick.
He moves slowly to the back of the cell away from the door.
Hears Bruce breath a soft sigh of relief and Jason sigh.
The Doctor opens the door, and then steps back to allow Mike to go in. Tim watches through narrowed eyes as the giant approaches Dick's still form.
"We found ways to bring Mr Grayson back to the present," the Doctor says pleasantly.
In one swift movement, Mike pulls up Dick's sweater, jabs the escrima against Dick's torso - and turns it on.
Dick's body seizes. His eyes widen, and crash back into the here and now as he chokes on a silent scream.
Tim jolts forward. He can hear Jason yelling, Bruce's calm but increasingly frantic tone. The Doctor steps between Tim and Dick and he instinctively lashes out.
His fist connects.
The Doctor staggers back into Mike.
Everything goes silent. Dick drops onto all fours, heaving desperately to catch his breath, hair clinging to his face with sweat. The Doctor straightens himself up and Tim - Tim freezes, seeing Mike reach forward and grab Dick's hair roughly. His brother makes a punched out, pained sound.
"George," Bruce says, voice low and soft but to anyone who knows him desperate. "Tim acted on instinct. He -"
"I told you to call me the Doctor."
The Doctor gestures to Mike.
This time, he leaves the charge on too long. Long enough Tim is certain he hears sizzling, smells burning. And Jason is screaming something but Bruce is silent and Tim can't find the power to speak, to do anything, because the Doctor is still standing straight in front of him, holding his gaze. Daring him to act.
Finally, Mike moves back. Tim sees a burn mark on Dick's torso as he slumps forward. He catches himself a second before hitting the ground. Face inches away from the floor. Twitching as his body adjusts to the sudden lack of shocks.
Tim trembles too. Anger, shock, fear. He's not sure which. Jason has finally fallen silent and is standing with his hands pressed against the cell, Bruce next to him with his mouth set in a thin line. They're all waiting for the Doctor's next move.
The Doctor is still watching Tim. Waiting for something in turn.
When Tim just stares blankly, not sure what he wants, the Doctor sighs and looks down at Dick.
"Mr Grayson. I don't have time to instill my lessons in your family, so I expect you to make sure they understand."
Dick doesn't react. Tim hears a thump; Jason's hands on the glass opposite.
"Leave him the fuck alone!"
Mike grabs Dick's hair again, forcing him to look up. For a second, Tim meets his wide, panicked eyes. Then his brother turns to the Doctor.
"Mr Grayson?" the Doctor says expectantly.
Dick nods as best as he can with the giant's grip on his hair.
"I will."
His voice is wrecked. His shoulder is twitching as he speaks.
Mike lets go, and he drops bonelessly to the ground. The Doctor doesn't bother to watch. He's staring at Tim again, his lips starting to turn into their familiar smile.
"In future, Mr Drake, I suggest keeping your hands to yourself. I'll leave Mr Grayson to explain the consequences for touching me again." He turns to leave. Pauses thoughtfully at the door. "Mr Grayson, exchange Lantern for Red Hood, but the sentiment remains the same."
He goes. No asking Bruce about the plans, no demanding information. Just leaves. The door shuts softly behind Mike and the four of them are alone again. Tim isn't surprised. This man is a master manipulator; he knows the most effective way to break someone is to keep them on their toes. Bruce is watching the empty space he left behind, frowning.
Tim waits until he hears a distant door thud - they've gone up into the Manor, he realises with distaste - before dropping down next to Dick.
Who flinches away. Only to shoot a smile at him when he realises who it is.
"Hey Tim," he says softly.
"Hey yourself." Tim helps him up onto a sitting position against the back wall, feeling Dick's muscles spasming under his touch.
"The hell did that last cryptic message mean?" Jason says.
Dick closes his eyes. Tim thinks he isn't going to answer, but then he says, "It's a threat he made to Ollie. He wants me to tell Tim that if you ever touch him again he'll shoot Jason in the stomach and put you in a cell with him to watch him bleed to death."
Tim meets Jason's eyes across the space between cells. Bruce is still frowning off into the distance; Tim doesn't even think he's listening.
"Okay," Tim says. "Message received." And, bitterly into the silence that followed, "Wouldn't need to touch him if you'd let me use a bomb."
Dick smiles, ever so slightly, and Jason laughs. It's only once, a harsh, strange sound, but for now, Tim will take it as a win.