Of Birds and Jokers

Chapter 16

Y'know in last chapter, where Robin pushed Flash off the stool?

Robin originally stabbed through his hand with the spoon.

I think we all know why I cut that part out.

Also, jeez, it has been a REALLY long time since I updated. Sorry about that. To try and make up for it here's a longer chapter that is still taking place in the new universe! Cause there is a big part in the YJ universe that I'm waiting on writing! And the last chappie ended on a cliffhanger!

And if something maybe seems a little different with the wording and stuff this chapter, I hope it is in a good way. I think I might actually be learning how to properly write in third person after something in my head clicked while writing this.

Anyway. Hope you enjoy!

    Robin blinks. Then he looks around the cave again, just to make sure he wasn't seeing things. He casts a glance at where he knows the cameras are before bolting off the stool and to the nearest ventilation cover, grabbing his discarded spoon as he goes. Out of the corner of his eye, he also sees a bobby-pin (most likely from Diana) and quickly snatches it off the table as well, sliding it into his hair.
    If it weren't so concerning, Robin would have been cackling at the Leagues obliviousness. He may have been around long enough to garner some trust with most of the League, but they were still under orders that he was to be accompanied by one of them at all times. By all means he was still a complete stranger to them. A stranger that they knew was trained.
    If this was how his Justice League started as well, no wonder Deathstroke came so close to defeating them.
    He makes it to one of the cave walls and reaches for his waist, only to frown as he brushes his baggy jeans and red turtleneck sweater. He still pushes the spoon into the space between the jeans and belt, hoping it would be enough to keep it from falling.
    The Flash had taken it upon himself to get clothes for Robin, but what that meant was that most of them were hand-me-downs that were either a size too big or too small. Robin appreciated the gesture, yet every time something squeezed too tight or started slipping down his frame, he felt a longing for Slade's creepy wardrobe where everything was in his size.
    Robin would have also gladly accepted his costume and utility belt. A utility belt which, as he prepared himself to climb the rocky walls surface, would have been great at the moment.
    Nevertheless, Robin couldn't waste this opportunity. As fast as he dares he plants his feet on the small, jutted outcrops and starts pulling himself up towards the only visible ventilation cover. The rocky surface is rough on his bare hands, grating against the callouses that were starting to disappear once again.
    That was yet another thing that he missed about Slades haunt. The League absolutely refused to let him go near any training equipment with the excuse of 'it's too dangerous for a kid like you'. When Robin first heard Hal say that, it took all of his willpower not to knock his lights out.
    Finally he reaches the vent cover, eyeing the four-by-four metal cover. Carefully he adjusts his hold to grab the spoon from his waistband. Robin briefly glances down and realizes he is much higher than he anticipated, the floor at least two stories beneath him. He shakes it off and adjusts the tip of the spoon into one of the screws. It is a painstaking process with only one hand, but finally the screw comes loose, falling neatly into the palm of his hand before ending up in his jeans pocket.
    He repeats this process for the other seven screws until the large cover finally comes loose. Tucking the spoon back into his waistband Robin gently pries the cover off and pushes himself inside.
    Releasing a small, satisfied huff, Robin crouches in the entrance. Luckily, the vents that need to circulate enough airflow in a sealed, underground cavern also needed to be quite large. At least that stayed the same in both dimensions.
    The vent still wasn't massive, but it was large enough that Robin could crawl and sit comfortably with his knees to his chest. That would make travel much easier.
    Carefully Robin places the vent cover back on the wall, ensuring it won't fall before turning towards the large expanse of tunnels that lay before him. Taking a deep breath, he starts to crawl forward, quickly falling back into old habits that had emerged when he first started going into vents as a child.
    He keeps himself as light as possible, making sure the sound of his breathing was almost nonexistent. When he comes across a cover that leads to a hallway, he does his best to stay to the sides or pass over it as quickly as possible.
     Robin could only hope that the ventilation schematics were the same for this Mountain as they were for his own. If they weren't, then he would have to risk taking the hallways which were almost certainly filled with superheroes who would catch him. At least this way he would go unnoticed for longer, even if it was a much dustier option.
    At the moment, Robin only had a single goal in mind—find a computer. That was the only way of finding out information without asking a League member, as Batman had also banned him from all electronics (aside from the TV, but only if the channels he chose were monitored by a League member).
    But, now that he had been left alone, there was no one that could enforce those rules. Robin just had to hope that Batman picked the same room to house his personal supercomputer as he had in his dimension.
    His stomach clenches at the thought of once again relying on luck and hope. So many things had already been wrong in this universe, and if Robin was once again wrong about this he was not sure what he would do. Everything was riding on him finding a computer and getting enough information about quantum mechanics, multiverse theory, or anything else that could help him get home. If he couldn't do that, then his chances for going home would decrease drastically.
   That thought, however, simply made Robin crawl even faster. If the computer really was where he knew it to be, then he had to hurry before the League realized what they had done and sent out a search party for him.
    After one final fork in the vents he finally arrives at the cover he was looking for. It opens up into a darkened room, and the vent shrinks so much that Robin has to resort to army crawling the rest of the way to peek out of the slits. A weight lifts off of his shoulders when he catches sight of the large computer at the back wall of the room.
    Quickly he grabs the spoon and starts working on the screws. It feels like too much time has passed when he is finally able to push the cover off and slide onto the floor.
    Heart in his chest, he pushes himself up, not even bothering to replace the vent cover. Robin rushes over to the computer. He is immediately greeted by a password screen, and when he types in what he knew the password to be (Martha Wayne's social security number times 9) his breath catches when the loading screen takes a little too long to disappear.
    Then the desktop opens, and Robin allows himself a moment of reprieve as he collapses into the chair behind him. He won't allow himself to dawdle too long, however, and quickly gets to work searching through all the databases he could find on all the information the League and Batman had on quantum mechanics and the multiverse theory.
    Unsurprisingly, most of the reports looked to be written by Barry, with a few by Hal or J'onn sprinkled into the mix. Robin reads through as much as he could, but is once again wishing Wally was here with him to try and interpret some of the things in the reports.
    Robin may pride himself on his intelligence and battle tactics, but he would readily admit that in the terms of hypothetical theory and quantum matters, his knowledge and understanding is quite limited. Wally, on the other hand, excels when it comes to stuff like this. Robin doesn't quite get it, as he had to tutor his friend through math so he didn't fail multiple times, but he supposes everyone has their different strengths.
    And, as he skims through yet another one of Flashes rambled theories and calculations, he continues to find himself at a loss.
    Robin feels his desperation growing by the minute as he skims through everything he can but fails to understand half of what is being talked about.
     Most concepts of theory flew right over his head, which is why he preferred solid facts and numbers that had consistent variables. That's half the reason Robin had picked up coding so fast—all the variables could change, but all someone really needed to know was simple arithmetic logic, knowledge of computing languages, and basic understanding of computer functions.
    None of what he is reading has such things. And, as he hears the faint click of a lock falling into place behind him, he knows there is only a small window of time left before he loses his chance to figure it out.
    Robin switches from Barry's rambling about quantum mechanics to the file about multiverse theory. To his horror, there were only three, small files.
    That couldn't be it though, right? He had been scouring around on his own Leagues database for years now, and they had all kinds of theories and possible ways that could be proof of a multiverse. Robin allows himself a small curse for never reading up on them when he had the chance.
    Then the realization that this League was still new, and all of the hero's on it (sans Aquaman) had only been hero's for a handful of years, hits him in full. Robin's posture slumps, but nevertheless he clicks on one of the three short, comprehensive files and starts reading.
    It's in the middle of the second file that he finally allows the full extent of his despair set in. His hands still on the keyboard, his focus of the screen becoming hazy.
    This really was it. There was no foreseeable way to get home. He was going to be stuck here for the rest of his life, and only the Joker would recognize him.
    Robin's throat starts to close, his eyes starting to water, but he resolutely pushes them back. Blearily he realizes his hands are shaking and makes the conscious effort to move them from the keyboard to his knees, where they clasp the jeans in a white knuckle grip.
    He couldn't give up now. Not after all that he had been through in this dimension. Robin knew for a fact that his friends and family would never give up on him until they had a body to show his death, so Robin wouldn't give up either.
    He was, however, running out of options for figuring this out by himself. Which was a real hit to his morale and pride, but he supposed it was inevitable with his lack of knowledge on the subject of dimension travel, time travel, and all of the things only speedsters usually had to deal with.
    With a sigh, Robin brings his knees to his chest and rests his arms on top. His forehead soon follows, resting on the scratchy fabric of his sweater, and that's the position he is still in when he hears the door behind him slide open an eternity later.
    Robin refuses to open his eyes or lift his head as he hears Batman's soft foot falls stop at the right side of the chair. The vibration of a gauntleted hand landing on the back of the chair registers in his mind, but he still refuses to stir from his fetal position. Batman doesn't seem to mind, and says nothing for a long few minutes while Robin collects what is left of his hope.
    Robin finally lets out another sigh, wincing when it comes out just as dejected as he feels. He tilts his head to the side to get a glimpse at Batman and is met with a stoic, blank stare.
    There is a beat of silence while they stare at each other, before Robin tries to put on a playful smirk. He has a feeling it comes out as more of a grimace, which was most likely accentuated by his scars.
    "So, how much trouble am I in?" Robin quietly asks. Batman's only response is a bat glare. Robin sighs, looking back up at the screen. "Yeah, that's what I thought."