Tim Drake oneshots

Echoes of fear

Fic: "Echoes of Fear"

The shadows of Gotham closed in as Batman and Robin, Tim Drake, moved through the old warehouse, their steps silent, precise. Scarecrow was close. The pungent scent of fear toxin lingered in the air, a sure sign they were nearing their target.

"Stay sharp," Batman whispered, his voice a low growl.

Tim nodded, keeping pace. His mind was focused, calculating. But even as they moved deeper into Scarecrow’s lair, a faint dread curled in his stomach. He hated the way the toxin clung to everything in these fights, how one misstep could send them spiraling into their worst nightmares.

And then it happened. A canister rolled out from the shadows, its glass shattered, releasing the toxin into the air.

"Robin!" Batman yelled, but it was too late.

Tim gasped, his eyes wide as the toxin filled his lungs. He staggered, fighting to stay on his feet, but the world around him blurred and twisted. The familiar shape of the warehouse melted away, and suddenly, he was somewhere else entirely.

Tim’s body convulsed, his breath quickening, and his vision began to warp. Through the haze, he could hear Scarecrow laughing in the distance, but it sounded muffled, distant, as though it was coming from a dream. His hands trembled, reaching out to steady himself, but his surroundings flickered and changed.

In an instant, the cold steel and grime of Gotham disappeared, replaced by the warm, polished floors of a grand hall. Sunlight streamed in through large windows, illuminating the perfect, elegant furniture.

Tim blinked in confusion, trying to shake the hallucination. He knew it wasn’t real, but the fear toxin was too powerful.

"Timothy."

The voice was soft and familiar, yet it struck his heart like an arrow. Slowly, Tim turned and saw her—his mother—Janet Drake. She stood there, smiling warmly, her arms crossed.

Tim’s breath caught in his throat. "Mom?"

She stepped closer, her eyes gleaming with affection but something darker lurking beneath. "This latest little game of yours," she said, her voice gentle but with an edge of disapproval. "Thank the stars it's over. Did you have fun?"

Tim’s heart raced. "What... What are you talking about?"

Janet’s smile didn’t waver, but her tone sharpened, her eyes piercing into him. "Did you get everything out of your system?" she asked, almost mockingly.

He tried to respond, but his throat felt tight, his words caught in a snare. His mind knew this wasn’t real—his mother was gone, and this was the toxin—but the emotions, the vividness of it all, held him captive.

"I-I don’t—"

"Good, good," she cut him off, her smile growing wider. "Jack and I are so relieved."

Tim took a shaky step back, confusion mixing with fear. Jack—his father. The memory of their deaths flashed in his mind, a pain he had buried long ago. His chest tightened as Janet took another step closer.

"Welcome home," she said softly, her voice suddenly cold, her eyes gleaming with something twisted. "Experiment 1."

Tim’s blood froze.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head. "This isn’t real. You’re not real."

But her words echoed in his mind. Experiment 1. It didn’t make sense, but in the twisted depths of the fear toxin, it felt like a terrifying truth. The room around him distorted, the walls stretching and closing in, as though reality itself was warping under the weight of the toxin.

"You were never meant to be more than an experiment," Janet continued, her voice ringing with cold certainty. "A project, a test. Everything you’ve done... all of it... was for us. You’re ours, Timothy."

"No!" Tim shouted, stumbling backward, his body trembling violently. "You’re not real! You’re not real!"

Back in the warehouse, Batman watched in horror as Tim’s body shook, his eyes wide and unseeing, trapped in the nightmare that Scarecrow’s toxin had woven. Scarecrow stood off to the side, watching with perverse satisfaction.

"Quite the spectacle, isn't it?" Scarecrow sneered. "Your precious Robin... unmade by his own fears."

Batman’s eyes narrowed as he rushed forward, knocking Scarecrow aside with one swift punch before turning to Tim. He knelt beside him, grabbing his shoulders firmly but gently.

"Robin!" Batman called, his voice steady but urgent. "It’s not real. Focus on my voice. You have to fight it."

But Tim was lost, drowning in the vision of his mother, her words digging deeper into his psyche.

"You were never meant to be a hero, Timothy," Janet whispered in his ear. "You’re a failure. Come home. We’ve been waiting for you."

Tears burned at the edges of Tim’s eyes. His entire world felt like it was collapsing, his sense of self crumbling under the weight of the toxin’s relentless assault.

But somewhere, through the chaos, he heard another voice. A steady, unyielding presence cutting through the madness.

"Robin, focus!"

It was Bruce—Batman. The real Bruce. His grip tightened on Tim's shoulders.

"You’re stronger than this," Batman said firmly. "Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real. You know who you are. You’re Robin. You’re Robin."

Tim blinked, the distorted image of his mother flickering in and out like a bad signal. The world around him began to shift, the nightmare cracking as Batman’s words broke through the toxin’s hold.

"You’re not a failure," Batman said, his voice low but filled with conviction. "You’re my partner. You’ve proven yourself over and over."

With a final, deep breath, Tim shook his head, forcing the hallucination to shatter. The figure of his mother evaporated into mist, the grand hall fading away until all that was left was the cold, hard reality of the warehouse.

Tim gasped, his body still trembling, but the toxin’s hold was weakening.

"B..." he whispered, his voice shaky.

"I’m here," Batman said, his hand still on Tim’s shoulder. "You did it. You fought it."

Tim closed his eyes for a moment, letting the real world ground him again. The weight of what he had seen hung heavy in his chest, but he knew—this was reality. And he wasn’t alone.

"Thanks," Tim breathed, finally steadying himself. "I’m... okay now."

Batman gave him a brief, reassuring nod before standing. "We’re not done yet," he said, glancing over at the unconscious form of Scarecrow. "Let’s finish this."

Tim stood beside him, his body still a little shaky, but his mind clear.

"Yeah," he said, clenching his fists. "Let’s finish it."