The Pain of Duality

Just as Red expected, the seedy bar only gave him a once over before serving him. Maybe being coated in blood helped, maybe they had questionable morals. It didn't matter. He got himself a gin and tonic, added it to Wade's Tab, and went to sit in the corner where he could keep an eye on everything around him, especially the door and if any one dared approach him, especially Wade who was animatedly talking with the bartender and trying to start fights. Red let his eyes slide to the board behind him, some sort of betting pool, he wonders if that was where the other got the idea from. 

Not like it was his problem anyway. He finished the glass quickly, got a basket of fries, and topped his order off with a whiskey before sitting back down and idly eating them. Red was never a big eater, he usually was not fronting during an eating time, but he could eat better than Tim. The food was bland and only consumed for a purpose, but at least he did not get caught up on textures. Which is exactly why he was eating it now, the body needed it and he was already planning on making whoever woke up tomorrow suffer, food would at least make it a little better on the poor fool. 

“Soooo” 

Red looked up, eyes narrowing at the mercenary. “What did I say about once we got here” he pointed a fry at him, then motioned it away, ununciated with a glare before popping it in his mouth. 

“Sheesh, I get it, can't be too cautious” 

LIKE YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT BEING CAUTIOUS

DID I HEAR A PEDO ALERT? 

“Like I was saying” Wade glared at the space his little thought bubbles popped up in in his vision. “It's good to be cautious, but we had a deal and I have the cash from the hit. Besides, I'm not letting a teenager get drunk and go home with a stranger” Wade shrugged and took a fry, which Red snatched from him before he could shove his mask up to eat it. 

“You, Deadpool, are a stranger to me. So give me the cash, then kindly fuck off or I will use it to put a hit on you. Actually I bet someone would do it for free with how fucking annoying you are” 

“Ouch, my heart. You drive a tough bargain. My name is Wade, I've been a mercenary for hire for a couple years now, on again off again hero with the wonderful sexy ass x-men, and in my wildest dreams the Avengers” 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

I AGREE. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING DUMBASS?

“Oh I'm making us not strangers” Wade pointed out like it should be obvious.

“So, Wade. Is there a last name? Perhaps a first pet? Street you grew up on?” Red took a sip of his drink as he held eye contact. 

“Wade Wilson, technically my first pet would be Marry Puppins, that's what I call my sweet angel, but technically their my variant so their name would actually still be Wade Wilson. But we can't have two Wade's running around, that's simply too many! Wait, why do you want to know?” 

“Well what else am I to do with your name but steal your identity and empty all your bank accounts” Red finally pulled his eyes away and popped another too bland fry in his mouth, forcing it down so that he could offer himself the treat of one more drink. He didn't necessarily want to get drunk, just a little tipsy. Offer the body and mind a little bit of a break with everything going on. Which meant he should stop after this drink and eat something else. 

Once Wade left him alone again, Red kept idly eating the fries as he let his mind wander a bit. He needed to think about what was best for the body, what was best for Tim. Right now he knew they were set on finding Jason and getting home, but neither aligned with his own goals. Jason may have been forgiven, but he was still a threat. He was dangerous, and Red knew Tim still got scared of the green in his eyes. Jason was also an adult and could figure it out himself, as far as Red was concerned. Besides, there was no proof that he even was here. He might have gone somewhere different or even died in the blast and just a body got teleported away. Besides, assuming time worked the same, if his own body was destabilizing and tearing apart, presumably Jason's was too, and for two whole months at that. 

Red popped another fry into his mouth as he continued the thought train. There was just so many unknowns with Jason, that Red did not think it was healthy to chase after. 

Then there was the other issue, getting home. Tims family was there, but they weren't really. Maybe Tim could live with them, could forget about the pain they cause. But Red had to hold that, had to live it and support it, had to bare through the manipulation, the lies, the heart break. And if not him, then JJ, and the kid deserved to feel safe, deserved a family. Sure, Tim would miss them, but would they miss him? 

When the days turn to months, and the months turn to years, will they notice him gone? Or will he be a forgotten memory? The broken Robin that forced his way into a family that was not his, further stolen by the likes of Red? Will they wonder why the echoed laughs of JJ had run silent? Will they take note of one less violent act? One less hero? 

Red slid out of the booth and right when Wade turned he snatched a drink off a near by table that was freshly ordered before downing it in one go. He needed to stop those thoughts, because emotions were a weakness that he could only fight back for so long. Emotions were a weakness, a waste of energy, when there was nothing to be done. He sat back down and shoved a fistful of cooling fries into his mouth, chasing the burn of the drink with the bland oil and salt. 

But if returning to the nest was out of the question, Red needed another plan. They couldn't stay here like this, not when their very being was breaking apart. That put a time frame on anything. Perhaps he could find a way to prevent it? He could work out the details later. It was getting harder to concentrate, harder to thread one thought to the next. 

God, he was such an embarrassment. No wonder Bruce couldn't be bothered, no wonder no one believed Tim, no wonder Dick never wanted to patrol with Red, hardly even with Robin, not after replacing him. 

Nope. Red needed to stop those thoughts in their tracks. He needed to think. Or maybe that was the problem, cursed to think too much. Maybe he needed to stop thinking. God, he could go for a cigarette, but the chastising wasn't worth it. He looked back up at Wade, he probably would not allow Red to order more. He seemed hesitant with the first drink. But… Red had other ways. 

He shifted out of the booth when Wade was distracted, walking over to a table with a group of men in business suits and lose ties. Statistically, at least one would help him out. He placed a hand on one's shoulder as he guided himself around the table to stand in front, leaning his weight to one side to pop out his hip while he offered a small smile. “My, what professionals we have here. Truly the best of the best” 

“what the hell do you want?” one of them slurred out, spilling their drink some as they motioned to him. 

“Oh my, let me get that for you” Red leaned over the table, grabbing a napkin before slowly wiping down the surface, Making sure to arch his back just a little. God. This was humiliating. Maybe he should just try to knock Wade out. That would be easier. Red was never one for talking things out. He looked back over the table, contemplating if it was worth it, but at the brief thought of how his mind was slipping, he decided that it was. He needed to get lost in the numb blackness without losing himself to one of the others, at least not till he was safe. 

“My, aren't you messy” he looked up at them, letting his hand linger as he batted his eyes some, looking over his lashes at them. 

“Says the person covered in blood” 

“Oh I didn't know you had a problem with that, perhaps later you can help me clean it up. I might need help reaching some spots. Though I was hoping to get a few drinks in before then” Red would kill any of them if they dared to inappropriately touch him, besides they were all obviously already severely inebriated, so he just had to out drink them. 

“Well” one of them swayed into their friend and smiled lopsidedly, “let's fix that” 

___

Wade eventually left Weasel at the bar. He had relaxed a bit with his friend, pulled off his mask, and even had a few drinks himself even if they never really had an effect. It was a nice end to a long week, and the noise of the bar helped to quiet the voices in his head, even if only temporarily. He turned around and wasn't surprised to see Red still in the same booth, thankfully tucked away from most of the seedy patrons. He already had blood on himself and he didn't mind adding more if someone was going to try and take advantage of the younger. 

He skipped over to the table, taking note of the few more empty glasses that he did not see Red get up and order, but he also was trying to respect his wishes of being left alone, so that wasn't surprising, especially with Red's ability to disappear and blend in. The fact that he looked utterly passed out was a different problem, a more concerning one actually. How did normal people react to alcohol again? Was this normal? 

“Hey Red, you ready to go home?” Wade pushed himself into the booth, sitting across from Red. 

Red hummed as he pulled his head up, the world spinning around him. He couldn't help the large grin on his face as he looked up at the guy across the table. “Avocado” he slurred out as he reached a hand out and almost tipped over. 

“Yeah, yeah I've heard it all, let's get you home kiddo” Wade grabbed his mask and pushed himself up, watching Red almost Faceplant off the bench. “You have a home? A hotel? A weirdly set on adopting you set of heroes? A parent?” he asked idly as he offered a hand out. “No? Oh don't worry, you will soon enough. I think the readers want to see another group punch Brucie Wayne too” Wade turned and winked at the wall. 

“You’re… you're weird” Red slurred as he smacked the hand away after a few attempts. In his defense the ugly asshole in front of him randomly spawned extra hands. Or maybe he should have eaten more. He pushed himself off the chair, stumbling a bit but catching himself before he actually fell. 

“Yeah tell me all about it. Shit should have kept a better eye on you” Wade barely managed to pull Red from the building, dropping a wad of cash on the counter to pay for them both and then some. 

“Mhm” Red bobbled his head up and down, eyes drooping as he leaned against Wade a bit more. “Mmm warm” 

“Yep, definitely should have kept my eye on you. Maybe I should drop you off at the Avengers tower, or a firehouse. I could probably squeeze you into one of those baby drop off bins, so they have an age cap on them?” Wade looked around, thinking about his options. He couldn't leave them like this, that would be a dick move and honestly dangerous. 

“Mm… no” 

“No? No what? No bin? Come on Red, Tell me what's on your mind?” 

“No” Red yawned as he leaned more on Wade, making him carry him slowly. 

“Words, I can't read minds” 

OH GOD IMAGINE THE NIGHTMARE THAT WOULD BE

OR HOW FUN IT COULD BE? IMAGINE KNOWING EVERYTHING ON LOGANS MIND

“Oh true, god it would be brutal, it would be bloody, it would be damn sexy” Wade lifted Red up as he spoke to himself. 

DON'T GET THIRSTY NOW, YOU'RE CARRYING A MINOR OUT OF A BAR

“Oh right, you with me Red?” he shouldered Reds head, looking down at him so he could look at his face. 

“Mm? No… I'm sleeping on world's most uncomfortable pillow” Red slurred, officially going boneless against Wade. 

“Do I need to be worried about alcohol poisoning? How much did you drink? Oh God you've made me into a worried parent. Holy shit, didn't think it was possible. Charles is going to start trying to recruit me for his gaggle of kids” Wade made an exaggerated gag noise as he started walking with Red. “I guess I can take you to my old apartment. Al will probably be passed out by now. Then I can make sure you aren't dying or something, actually this is the perfect time to shove you on Tony! Oh he can always take in another kid! What do you-” 

Wade got cut off as Red gasped and flashed in his arms, hands spasming on Wade's outfit as he glitched again, body destabilizing in this universe. He then proceeded to turn his head to the side and vomited. 

“Shit that's not good. You didn't get the sweet kiss of Lady Death? OK, we can handle this” 

YOU REALLY CAN'T

OH! MAYBE WE CAN TOSS THE BODY IN THE HARBOUR? NO MISSING PERSON IF THEY NEVER EXISTED!

THAT IS ABSOLUTELY NOT HOW THAT WORKS 

SUSPEND YOUR DISBELIEF AND GIVE IT A SHOT. OH IMAGINE HOW BEAUTIFUL HIS BLOOD WOULD LOOK? 

“Ok Red, I'm going to put you down for a moment so I don't accidentally on purpose kill you” 

The person in his arms clung tighter onto him as they trembled, breath coming in small pants. 

So probably not Red, got it. Wade wasn't too good at these games, he tried with Moon Knight before and even with the noticeable wardrobe changes he had a hard time because his brain liked to mess with him and plop his voices in place of their alters, filling in the other side of the conversations. It made his head hurt. “you with me?” He tilted their face up to look at them.

Seeing them stare right through him was a bit off putting. But that's fine, he would just have to keep an eye on them. With them carefully tucked in his arms he headed towards Blind Al's apartment and hoped at least the couch would be free. 

Shit, he hoped they became responsive soon or this may start to look even worse, especially since he could not allow them to sleep in blood soaked clothes. 

___

It was day three here and Tim woke up with his body aching and his head throbbing. He groaned as he pushed himself up, wincing as he felt the dried drool crusted to his cheek. He slowly blinked bleary eyes around the room, taking it in for a moment while he took stock of himself. No dangerous injuries, that was good. He didn't remember fighting, but he must have for this level of soreness. He knew he was out taking photos, so maybe he found himself in a dangerous situation? Or maybe someone needed help. He couldn't think about that right now, not with how dry his mouth was, or with the fact that he was obviously in someone's apartment. 

What the hell happened last night? He went to push himself up, grabbing onto the arm of the couch as the room tilted dangerously, or maybe that was just him. That made more sense. Thankfully his bag was still there, camera carefully tucked on top and skateboard leaned next to it. So he wasn't robbed at least. He finally looked down at himself, clothes rumpled with sleep, but more importantly they were not his clothes. A vile slimy feeling rose up his throat at the realization. He was in an unknown place, with no memory of getting here, feels like he is hungover despite not drinking, and someone changed him into soft pajamas. Someone had gotten him stripped down while he was unaware, they might have drugged him, they might have... 

Tim tried to blink the tears out of his eyes, tried to keep his breathing even despite how disgusting and violated he felt. Because the only explanation that glared in his head was not one he wanted to think about. How could he be so stupid? So weak? Bruce would take one look at him and know that he messed up, one look and know that he was tainted, one look and know this was all Tim's fault. 

Later Tim problem. It was too late to change anything, so for now he grabbed his bag, checking over the contents and feeling bile rise up at the stack of cash tucked away. Did they treat him like some street worker? Was his innocence and purity only worth this small wad of cash? Oh god, what would Kon think? Would he feel disgusted by Tim now? He only just got him back, he couldn't handle that. What would Bruce say? Would he kick him out? Look at him with disgust because he was stupid, because he was weak? 

Push it down, later Tim could deal with that. For now he needed to get out of there before they came back. Needed to push all that away and compartmentalize it. 

Tim grabbed his belongings, trying to be quiet as he secured them once again. He needed to get out of here, needed to not get caught, needed to figure out what he needed to do, needed needed needed. God, Bruce would be embarrassed with him. Probably put him through another round of training to make sure he was up to it. Maybe he was right to pull him from patrol if he was getting this loose on the field. 

At least training wasn't so bad, he usually forgot most of it so it couldn't be. Not if he could get past it without making any formidable memories. Even if it made a weird anxiety bubble up in him that made him feel like he needed to either fight something or run and hide. 

God, he missed Bruce, missed home, just wanted to go curl up on the sofa and wrap himself in a pile of blankets so that he could maybe retain some heat. There Alfred would bring him a warm mug of hot chocolate or tea. There Dick would be cuddled up next to him, flopped over him like a boneless pile of mush. There his family would be spending time with him, no matter how often he forgot something or was injured, how often he got sick, how often he pushed them away in a panic response he could not understand himself. It didn't matter, because they were family and now they must be so worried about him. Now he ran away to follow Jason, to help Jason, and when he finally returned they could have that lost bond. 

When Jason was back, would there even be a use for him anymore? Tim knew he was a forced addition. A placeholder for Jason. If Jason returned to the family, would that be what finally makes them kick him to the curb? It was fine if they did, he knew his place was temporary. He had his fake uncle and his family's wealth. 

Wait, that reminds him. He wasn't sure how long it would take to build another portal, he needed something of a safety net here too. He needed to build an identity before CPS caught wind of him, or worse, one of the heroes. 

Officially out of the apartment, he was able to focus on this new task. It was easier than processing everything that happened. Plus, with the money from last night, he could buy himself a bottle of pain meds and water, two things he desperately needed if he wanted to do anything. Then he could find a library and use their computers to build up an identity, a life. 

___

It didn't take long for the teen to find the library. A valuable resource, but more importantly it had computers he could use to help cement himself here until he could either find his way home, find Jason, or until Bruce managed to tear apart the multiverse to find him. Surely he would be at least looking, and he was friends with Vibe, so he wouldn't even have to build anything. Just a matter of searching. It should be easy for the world's greatest detective, so Tim just had to do his part. 

He slid easily into the library and looked around until he found the computers. He perched his bag next to him, plugging his phone into the computer, and sat on one of the spinning chairs. He waited for it to boot up, tapping his fingers idly. The library itself was ok, it was more ornate then most of the ones in Gotham, he was sure Jason would go feral released in here. Actually, any decently funded library with an actual collection he probably would. Once he located his older brother he would have to show him, or be embarrassed at least by the fact that Jason was probably here if he was located anywhere nearby. 

Once his phone connected into the software, he easily bypassed the log in page that was glaring into his soul. It allowed him a line to create a fake file, a paper trail for both himself and an uncle, complete with school records, fake occasional doctors visits, even added in a little school report about being punished for punching a kid. He did the same for his uncle, creating a fool proof paper trail that should help him out I'd ever someone was to look into him. 

The whole process took longer than he would like to admit, but he was operating off of lower grade tech than he was used to, mixed with the futuristic computer of this universe. His own programs struggled to actually make it past the firewalls and into the systems he needed. But at the end of the day, it was only a few hours of his life and it would make being here just a little bit easier, no matter how temporary that was. 

By the time he was done, Tim Drake was officially an 18 year old with an uncle named Richard Greyson Drake. Sue him, he missed his big brother. His parents died in a car crash when he was 17, complete with a fake newspaper obituary covering it, when his uncle took him in. He graduated with his GED and moved to New York afterwords. It wasn't the best, Tim wished he could use an alias, but he wanted Jason to know it was him if he saw anything. Know that someone was looking for him, that he wasn't a forgotten memory isolated to the moments of his death. Wanted Jason to know that he didn't forget him, that none of them did even if the rest of the family skipped right to mourning. 

With everything locked down and finished, he decided to use the remaining bit to finalize the next step in his plan. He easily hacked into the Midtown High software and pulled up their little internship extravaganza plan. He missed one day, some Pym Industries, but tomorrow was Baxter Foundation, then it was Stark Industries. Both of those seemed to offer a wider tech base than Oscorp did, so he would repeat the process to get a tour of them and to hopefully talk with some of the employees. It was risky, but he needed to be doing something. Needed to be productive, needed a plan, because he just had this horrible feeling that he was alone, that maybe Bruce would take this as an opportunity to get rid of him. He couldn't quite figure out where the thoughts were coming from, where the fear was building, but he knew he needed something as a back up, that he couldn't rely on others. 

With a plan set and a wad of cash, Tim moved to find a cheap place to stay for the week. Renting out a room in a dingy hotel was easier when paying with cash, a little added incentive for them to look past his age only being 18 on his ID. At least he made himself legally old enough to be away from an adult.