to timfinity and beyond!
Jan. 11th, 2005 08:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
holli#dcu, this is ALL YOUR FAULT. I just want to make that clear.
Tim Drake had honestly thought that his threshold for weirdness could not possibly be pushed any farther, without the needle on some cosmic meter shattering into a thousand quivering shards.
On the other hand, it was entirely possible that this was what had *happened,* and here he was, looking at the result.
The nearest other Tim, who appeared to be wearing a variation of the Blue Beetle's costume, waved an experimental hand in front of Tim's eyes. "Uh. You okay there... Tim?"
It was a dangerous question. The room appeared to be full of Tim Drake-- Tim *Drakes*, plural-- all of them in various degrees of shell-shock. Tim was somewhat relieved to see that the majority of them were wearing Robin uniforms, though even those varied-- from where he stood, he could see one or two in red, and one with what appeared to be a bionic hand, scanning the room. A few-- God help him all-- were wearing the shorts, and pointed boots.
Beyond that, though, there were quite a few--others. One Tim, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, had a quiver of needle-fine crossbow bolts strapped to his thigh, and a tattoo of twining arrows on his bicep. Another wore what looked like a GL uniform; he was standing next to a Tim who looked like Greta used to, all sepia-colored smoke. Some weren't in costumes he recognized. A few, around the edges of the crowd, weren't in costumes at all.
He was deeply, deeply relieved to see that none of them were Batman. Though he thought he could spot a Nightwing, over on the other side of the room.
He returned his attention to Beetle-Tim, who was still waving at him. "I'm all right," he said. "Apparently, I'm all right across any number of dimensions, which is-- oddly comforting. If a bit much to get used to."
"Well, don't worry," said the other boy, running a hand through his already-messy hair. He looked about three weeks overdue for a haircut, and like he was too often distracted to notice. "It should wear off in an few minutes, and send everyone home. Uh. Theoretically, anyway."
"You know who's responsible?" asked one of the other Robins, who Tim swore should have been too far away to hear their conversation.
"Well, I think it might have been me and Ted, actually." He cringed, looking guilty.
Tim hadn't ever suspected his own face of *being* that expressive. Maybe *his* wasn't.
"What were you *doing*?" he asked, trying hard to keep his voice level.
The other Tim switched from guilty to sheepish. "We were tinkering with some ideas for making the Bug dimensional-travel-ready. But it was only preliminary!" As though that made it any better. "I mean, we haven't even installed the force fields yet. Or the zero-point energy source."
"Oh my god," said a Tim. "I can't decide whether I want to punch you out of *jealousy,* or *everything else*." Tim couldn't help but agree.
"I really am sorry, you guys. Nothing like this was in any of the projections we ran. Heck, even Steph and Booster just thought we'd blow ourselves up."
"Wait," said Tim. "Steph. Stephanie *Brown*?" A lot of the other Tims took notice at that, he realized.
"Well, sure," said Beetle-Tim.
"Your Steph is *alive*?"
"Yours *isn't*?" He was horrified, his expression as transparent as his *ridiculous* yellow goggles.
"No," said another Tim, flatly. The others seemed to take that as their cue to join the conversation.
"Well, of *course* she is."
"What *happened* to yours?"
The Robin in red said, "Who's Stephanie Brown?"
The Tim with the tattoo just smirked. Tim recognized that smirk. That was an *Arsenal* smirk. He didn't want to think about the implications of that smirk.
"The Steph in my-- dimension, or world or whatever," said Beetle-Tim. "She's Booster's sidekick. Who-- who are all of yours?"
The concept of Steph and Booster Gold took Tim too long to process. Half a dozen Tims chimed in before he got a chance.
"She's Spoiler, of course."
"Batgirl."
"She joined the Corps a little after I did."
The smirking Tim's expression deepened, to the point that it could reasonably have been called a leer.
"Mine was Robin, for a while," said Tim. "When I couldn't be." He kept his expression level, but Beetle-Tim's softened anyway.
"Oh, he said. "I'm sor--"
Tims started vanishing, each with an audible *pop* like a cork being pulled out of a multidimensional space-time-fragmenting bottle. Tim opened his mouth to say something but the room lurched suddenly, as though there'd been an earthquake--
And he was back on a rooftop in Bludhaven, right where he'd started.
That should not have been half as angsty as it turned out. Maybe I will write a happy version! One with porn!
Tim Drake had honestly thought that his threshold for weirdness could not possibly be pushed any farther, without the needle on some cosmic meter shattering into a thousand quivering shards.
On the other hand, it was entirely possible that this was what had *happened,* and here he was, looking at the result.
The nearest other Tim, who appeared to be wearing a variation of the Blue Beetle's costume, waved an experimental hand in front of Tim's eyes. "Uh. You okay there... Tim?"
It was a dangerous question. The room appeared to be full of Tim Drake-- Tim *Drakes*, plural-- all of them in various degrees of shell-shock. Tim was somewhat relieved to see that the majority of them were wearing Robin uniforms, though even those varied-- from where he stood, he could see one or two in red, and one with what appeared to be a bionic hand, scanning the room. A few-- God help him all-- were wearing the shorts, and pointed boots.
Beyond that, though, there were quite a few--others. One Tim, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, had a quiver of needle-fine crossbow bolts strapped to his thigh, and a tattoo of twining arrows on his bicep. Another wore what looked like a GL uniform; he was standing next to a Tim who looked like Greta used to, all sepia-colored smoke. Some weren't in costumes he recognized. A few, around the edges of the crowd, weren't in costumes at all.
He was deeply, deeply relieved to see that none of them were Batman. Though he thought he could spot a Nightwing, over on the other side of the room.
He returned his attention to Beetle-Tim, who was still waving at him. "I'm all right," he said. "Apparently, I'm all right across any number of dimensions, which is-- oddly comforting. If a bit much to get used to."
"Well, don't worry," said the other boy, running a hand through his already-messy hair. He looked about three weeks overdue for a haircut, and like he was too often distracted to notice. "It should wear off in an few minutes, and send everyone home. Uh. Theoretically, anyway."
"You know who's responsible?" asked one of the other Robins, who Tim swore should have been too far away to hear their conversation.
"Well, I think it might have been me and Ted, actually." He cringed, looking guilty.
Tim hadn't ever suspected his own face of *being* that expressive. Maybe *his* wasn't.
"What were you *doing*?" he asked, trying hard to keep his voice level.
The other Tim switched from guilty to sheepish. "We were tinkering with some ideas for making the Bug dimensional-travel-ready. But it was only preliminary!" As though that made it any better. "I mean, we haven't even installed the force fields yet. Or the zero-point energy source."
"Oh my god," said a Tim. "I can't decide whether I want to punch you out of *jealousy,* or *everything else*." Tim couldn't help but agree.
"I really am sorry, you guys. Nothing like this was in any of the projections we ran. Heck, even Steph and Booster just thought we'd blow ourselves up."
"Wait," said Tim. "Steph. Stephanie *Brown*?" A lot of the other Tims took notice at that, he realized.
"Well, sure," said Beetle-Tim.
"Your Steph is *alive*?"
"Yours *isn't*?" He was horrified, his expression as transparent as his *ridiculous* yellow goggles.
"No," said another Tim, flatly. The others seemed to take that as their cue to join the conversation.
"Well, of *course* she is."
"What *happened* to yours?"
The Robin in red said, "Who's Stephanie Brown?"
The Tim with the tattoo just smirked. Tim recognized that smirk. That was an *Arsenal* smirk. He didn't want to think about the implications of that smirk.
"The Steph in my-- dimension, or world or whatever," said Beetle-Tim. "She's Booster's sidekick. Who-- who are all of yours?"
The concept of Steph and Booster Gold took Tim too long to process. Half a dozen Tims chimed in before he got a chance.
"She's Spoiler, of course."
"Batgirl."
"She joined the Corps a little after I did."
The smirking Tim's expression deepened, to the point that it could reasonably have been called a leer.
"Mine was Robin, for a while," said Tim. "When I couldn't be." He kept his expression level, but Beetle-Tim's softened anyway.
"Oh, he said. "I'm sor--"
Tims started vanishing, each with an audible *pop* like a cork being pulled out of a multidimensional space-time-fragmenting bottle. Tim opened his mouth to say something but the room lurched suddenly, as though there'd been an earthquake--
And he was back on a rooftop in Bludhaven, right where he'd started.
That should not have been half as angsty as it turned out. Maybe I will write a happy version! One with porn!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-01-12 02:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-13 08:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-14 05:02 pm (UTC)That's really good. :]
no subject
Date: 2005-01-27 08:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-27 10:35 pm (UTC)Anyway, I wandered by to tell you that this is a great story, and to thank you for the idea of Tim!Finity, which was grand fun to write and will be grand fun to read till I've got through them all.