Tim Drake Gets the Love he Deserves

Chapter Two

Tim's head was throbbing when he woke up. In fact, everything was throbbing. It felt like he'd been dropped from fifty feet in the air and hit every tree on the way down.

He winced and brought his hand to his head to try and massage the pain away, groaning slightly as he did so. 

At least, he tried to. It was apparently hard to do that when your wrists were bound.

That was what really woke Tim up. He was so stupid! How could he not take inventory of where he was immediately after he woke up? Batman would be ashamed. He couldn't fail Batman, he couldn't loose the last thing in his life that is even a little bit okay. 

Okay, okay, don't freak out. Use your senses, use your head. What are you laying on?

A bed, comfortable. Feels like the medbeds in the Cave and Titans Tower. There's a blanket covering him, lightweight, not meant to put pressure on his body. 

What does it smell like?

Antiseptic. It's clean, strong. But also a faint smell of moss and dew, the air is dry. Like an underground area. Maybe a mountain, or a cave?

What can you feel?

Chains. Around his both his ankles and his wrists. But not to tight, not enough to cut off circulation. Just enough to keep him from moving his hands and feet more that a half inch. The pillow, soft, bouncy. Good support on the neck and back. 

What can you hear?

Beeping, a heart monitor. Faint sound of running water. As well as someone talking in the distance. No, not someone. Some people. Arguing, confused. They didn't know what was going on. Well, at least he wasn't the only one. 

Finally, what can you see?

An open space. He was on one bed of many, in what seemed to be a medical room. Not the Cave's, not the Tower's. Not the Watchtower's, not the Clocktower's. There was an IV in his arm, drugged. Trying to keep him asleep. 

Jokes on them, he'd long since created a tolerance for any drug that could put him asleep.

 And he was still in his suit. 

These idiots left him in his suit. 

Well, actions have consequences. They should have known better than to leave Red Robin with his gear. 

It was possible that they were simply unable to get him out. He did have an extreme security on his suit. Only the people who he'd told knew how to get out of his shit without harm of any kind. Of course, half of them were dead. 

Nevertheless, he still had an advantage. He could pick the locks, find his Bo-staff, and get out of here. 

"I wouldn't try it, if I were you."

That... That was a voice. A familiar voice. 

Crap. 

Mentally groaning, Tim turned his head to see the group that had been arguing before were now all focused on him. 

With quite a few familiar people in the front. 

What the fuck? Why were Nightwing and Robin staring at him like that? Why was Jason still Robin, even though he was obviously much older than 15? Why was Jon alive and glaring at him? 

Had he done something? Was he in the past? No, not the past. Jason was never Robin again after 15. A... Different universe maybe? 

What was the last thing he remembered?