(no subject)

 It comes down to this: Ra’s al Ghul vs Tim Drake, playing for control over Bruce’s legacy and the lives of everyone he loved. Loves.

So, you know. No pressure.

It’s okay, though, because Tim has a plan. Part of a plan. Once upon a time, Bruce arranged the paperwork to transfer his controlling shares in the company to Tim, in case of—just in case. If anything happened, Tim was supposed to take over. It would’ve been Dick, but Dick never really wanted the company in the first place, and God knows Cass isn’t exactly an aspiring CEO, either.

So, step one: put in a call to Lucius Fox and tell him to start that paperwork train going and get Tim Drake-Wayne emancipated minor status, and do it ASAP because Tim’s like 95% sure Ra’s is going to get Hush to sign over the company if he doesn’t.

Step two: he has a list of Ra’s’ assassination targets. He can’t protect everyone at once, but luckily, he doesn’t have to. He calls the Titans and asks them to help out—and, despite the fact that he’s been incommunicado for months and didn’t part with some of them on the best of terms, they don’t hesitate to help him.

Step three: call the family lawyer. Not the Waynes’ family lawyer, but the one the Drakes went to, the one who handled his parents’ wills, and ask that an addition be made giving Dick Grayson the controlling shares in Wayne Enterprises in the event of his death because step four is—

Goad Ra’s al Ghul into combat and hope he survives long enough to take control of Wayne Enterprises from Hush.

When Ra’s attacks, there’s no time for quips or smartass comments cause, well, centuries-old assassin. He has to focus, the kind of focus he’d put into fighting the Council of Spiders. And like with the Council, he’s not fighting to save his own ass or win in any traditional sense. He’s just holding open a window for Lucius Fox.

So when Ra’s’ slams the handle of his sword into Tim’s cheekbone and he feels a crack, that’s another few seconds that Ra’s is distracted with him. Ra’s slices a gash in his chest and he loses hold of his bo staff, which leads to giving Ra’s the opening he needs to dislocate Tim’s right shoulder, but that’s okay, too, because he doesn’t have to walk away from this fight.

“Is that all? Is that all you’ve got?” he asks, doubled over with one arm pressed over his bleeding chest.

And Ra’s looks at him like he’s not sure if Tim has something really clever up his sleeve or just finally lost his mind. “—What are you doing, Timothy?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Ra’s?” And wow, his shoulder is really starting to hurt now that he’s not actively being attacked. “I’m giving Lucius Fox enough time to file paperwork.

“Two things happened today, Ra’s. The first is that I became an emancipated minor.” Which, congratulations to him, he guesses. He can die an adult in the eyes of the law. “The second is that as of right now I’m also the controlling shareholder of Wayne Enterprises.”

“You…”

“I’m in charge of Bruce Wayne’s legacy now. Not Hush. Even if you kill me now, I’ve made sure he won’t be able to transfer anything to you.” He struggles upright a little, because if he’s going to get to say these words, he wants to be able to look Ra’s in the eye: “You’ve lost, Ra’s.”

There is a moment of absolute silence. Then: “Well done, Detective.”

He doesn’t quite black out when Ra’s kicks him through the glass window, but it’s a near thing. He’s conscious long enough to feel the wind rushing over his body and think about whether Bruce will be proud of him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He wakes up with a rush of adrenaline, bolting upright with a gasp.

“Tim! It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re in the batcave,” Steph—Batgirl—says, and Damian adds, “And your Teen Titans riffraff is upstairs going through my father’s kitchen, Drake. Do something about it.”

So the family’s all here, then. “Alfred…”

“Hello, Master Timothy. I’m very pleased to see you again,” Alfred says. “Although you could have said goodbye.”

“Tim…” Dick lays a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Welcome home.”

Yeah. Welcome home. “Ra’s?”

“Gone. We swept the place and got nothing. You want to tell me what that was all about?”

Yes. No. Not really. “It’s a little complicated,” he says. “But I think we’re good for a while.”

And then Dick asks the million-dollar question: “How’d you know? How did you know I’d be there to save you?”

Because the truth is, he didn’t know. Because the truth is, when he blacked out, he didn’t think he’d ever wake up again. Because the truth is—he would have been okay with that.

So he cracks open a smile that makes his broken cheekbone burn and lies through his fucking teeth.

“You’re my brother, Dick. You’ll always be there for me.”