Streetlight Photography
Tim wasn't exactly sure what happened, But he woke up curled up in the closet in the hotel with every piece of bleached linen draped around him and his phone quietly playing some cartoon. He slowly pushed himself up and winced as he wiped away the crud built up from a long night of crying.
“Get it together, Tim” he groaned to himself and slowly stretched out his joints, mindful to not over stretch. Perhaps he should add KT tape to his shopping list, just in case he was to hyperextend anything, whether on the field or while getting out of bed, or well closet in this case. It would be a useful addition to any first aid kit, and easy enough to shove in his bag.
Slowly, he got out of the closet, taking note of the desk pushed against the door on top of all the locks. He must have been extra paranoid when he decided to cry himself to sleep in the closet. He remade his bed after plugging in his phone. It was still relatively mid day, so at least he did not sleep the entire day away. He still had time to go out and scope the city, collect some photos to sell and maybe gather some information out along the way.
The other confusing thing was how his hands and knees were bandaged. He did not buy bandages yet, so how did that happen? They still smelt faintly of rubbing alcohol, so cleaned and bandaged. That was something pretty big to forget about. But try as he might, he couldn't rack his brain for the information. Even grabbing his notebook provided nothing!
With a fresh wave of annoyance and frustration, Tim shoved the notebook back in his bag and swung it over his shoulder. He must have had a nightmare, maybe some sort of weird episode after the car almost hit him, evidently did not make it to his best bet for multidimensional travel, and instead opted to cry in a closet. It was frustrating, but deep down it was also terrifying. He was long used to gaps in his memory, to waking up in different locations, but usually it wasn't this much. Usually he could at least go back and read his mission reports. Usually he could manage days without slipping away.
With a frustrated huff, he shoved one of the protein bars in his mouth and pushed the desk back to its rightful spot so that he could leave. He would have to find another way into Baxter Foundation, find another way to access their information. He noticed the new watch on his wrist around then too.
Slowly he pulled his arm up to his eyes, looking at the screen that did not project a watch face. It looked high tech. Looked like something handmade. He would have to figure out what it was, some sort of tracker? Something like a house arrest? Something designed to hurt? That could explain why his muscles all ached, why they seemed to twitch even still, like they were remembering an electric shock. But that had to be wrong, Tim had endured many things but none of the villains used electric shocks to attack, that he has encountered at least.
He would have to study it later, to figure out what happened that he was forgetting, to figure out what was going on. But, that would have yo be a later Tim problem, because he also needed to get more money in a way that didn't leave him feeling violated. Sure, the large chunk of cash would be enough to sustain himself for at least another week, if not longer. But if he was going to try and build something again, or even make an outfit to go out in at night, he would need to buy supplies which meant more money.
“You got this” he tried to hype himself up, hating the dread and weight of anxiety that came with the newest gadget, that seemed to settle like a nagging voice in the back of his mind.
He grabbed his camera and headed to the streets, leaving his skateboard behind for now. He was planning on parkouring up to some better perches for hero shots and that meant the less clutter on his back the better. Besides, if he could get some of the elusive Spiderman that the Bugle seemed so obsessed with he could get some cash a lot quicker. And what better place to catch a creepy crawler than perched high above the city? He was just happy the hero did not have eight legs, just used webs as a tool to swing around and capture. He did wonder if there were more spider attributes to get the name, but honestly he wasn't sure if he wanted to figure it out.
Finding a place that was hidden away was a bit harder than anticipated. He wished he had come more prepared, wished he had brought his tools, planned better, anything really. But he was adaptable if nothing else. Once he found and navigated to a position he hoped would be good, he pulled out his notebook while he waited. It helped to write his thoughts, to navigate them in a way that he could physically see. Helped to unravel the mystery that seemed to shadow over his life.
Right now his main priority was figuring out what this band around his wrist was, how it got there, and who put it there. It was something more immediate than figuring out how to find Jason and getting home. Something he could focus on without feeling like the world was caving in.
He first works on a list, a way to keep his scattered thoughts straight. Vague enough to allow movement but firm enough to be followed. He needed to figure out this band, find Jason, maybe figure out what Oscorp was up to, maybe stop them from synthesizing the chemicals he recognized, and finally find a way back home. Technically he should drop the investigative ones. He should stop himself from interfering in whatever timeline he found himself in. But it was in his blood, his DNA, to want to help. So baked into his very being that he couldn't turn a blind eye. Not when this could be the start of this universes Joker, or Scarecrow, or even Poison Ivy. Besides, it was odd that it wasn't just one, but so many instead. Even if the formulas were slightly altered, weaker, different. Was it not his duty to try to protect others?
Once done, he flipped to a news page and began sketching the odd contraption out, studying its seams, its screws, its weak points. Once he had tools he could take it apart. Try to reverse engineer what it was.
As the sun started to set, he finally set the notebook to the side and pulled his camera to his face. Peering through at the city in front of him. It was so different from Gotham. Modern sleek architecture more similar to metropolis than anything. Part of him wondered if he would see a flash of blue and red, but that was idiotic. It wouldn't be any hero he knew, not here, besides research showed that he was in Spidermans area and that hero apparently wore the same colors. But a small part of him was still hopeful, not for Clark, but for Kon. To see that dumb leather jacket flapping in the winds high above, dumb smile tugging up on one side with star-like blue eyes peering over dumb sunglasses. It wouldn't be the same. Kon wasn't the same after traveling back to him, but maybe Tim wasn't the same after repeated failures to recreate him.
With a sigh, Tim snapped some photos of the city. Playing with how the light filtered in and the exposure capturing the lines of cars. He did this until finally rooftop movement caught his eyes. He shifted his lense over, trying to see where the other went. A slow scope around but all was still, like a trick of the eye. He was ready to resume taking some photos of the city scape when someone tapped him on the shoulder.
Tim nearly jumped out of his skin, quickly turning and almost falling off the ledge accept the person above him, hanging upside down, caught him with a web. A spider web.
This time Tim did scream as he flailed, because even if Spiderman didn't have 8 legs and beady eyes, the way he hung from the wall was unnatural and the webs still were to familiar.
“Oh shoot hold on, sorry, uh just your friendly neighborhood spider man” Peter raises his hands up and shifted so his feet were on the perch in front of Tim, who was still freaking out and desperately trying to free himself from the web that was holding him from tumbling down to the cement sidewalk bellow. Peter didn't mean to spook him, didn't even expect anyone to be at one of his secret spots. It was near impossible for a regular human to get to, but Peter discovered it years ago. A perfect little perch high above the city. It had great views of the Avengers tower, but also if you went around the bend you could see Baxter Foundation, meaning it was great for hero photos, something that helped keep him afloat when his increased metabolism kicked in before Tony pseudo adopted him. He could also see Mays apartment from here when zoomed in on his camera, but that was mostly thanks to his enhanced senses. It was perfect, hidden, and had great views. So why was the other here? He could assume at this point not JJ, he just hoped this wasn't the alter who was afraid of spiders.
Actually, he was pretty sure this was the alter who was afraid of spiders based on their continued panic and desperate attempts to break free despite that meaning they would fall to their death. “OK, I'm going to grab your shoulder so you don't fall and I'll dissolve the webs” he offered before slowly reaching out, giving a moment for him to calm down.
Tim was just getting more and more stuck as he tried to rip the webs off. He almost would rather a giant spider because then at least his panic would make sense. Instead it was shameful. Spiderman didn't even look like a spider. He tried to breath, to calm himself down, to anything, but then sticky hands were on his shoulder and he thought that this might actually be it. RIP Tim, had a heart attack and died at the ripe old age of 17. They might as well stamp a spider onto his grave, it was only appropriate. God Jason would laugh at him for dying in such a lame way. His luck his next life would be spent being a fly caught in a spiders web. Trapped until they were sucked dry. Their husk left to rot away.
Oh… he was fine. He finally clocked himself back in, both feet on the cement ledge he was standing on and arms wrapped around Spiderman. Embarrassing. With flushed cheeks he quickly pushed himself back, but this time mindful of the edge. Mindful of the space he was taking up. He looked away, anywhere but at the strings of webs, and focused on his breathing. He needed to calm down, needed to breathe. This was a ridiculous over reaction. He was fine. Plus… he quickly lifted his camera up and snapped a photo of the hero. He didn't know if it turned out or if it was focused, if it would be like a blurry cryptid shot.
“Oh! Were you doing photography up here? Sorry I interrupted. I actually know a few great places around that aren't quite as… precarious” Peter offered, his own excitement bubbling up because that was a damn nice camera, but also like nothing he had ever seen. Meaning that this person had to love photography enough to invest. And sue him, he didn't have any other friends that shared this interest, besides, if the presumed mutant was to stick around, it would be nice to get to know them. Maybe prove that he wasn't some villain. Plus, selfishly, he wanted to make sure he was ok.
“Oh uh” Tim pulled in another deep breath and tried to steady his hands, eyes still not looking at Spiderman. “I uh… sorry I'm not usually this bad” he moved his hands up to cover his face, pulling in a few more deep breaths, before slowly pulling on his mask that he used when meeting new shareholders with Wayne Enterprise. When he had to convince them that he was a trusted CEO of a multi billion dollar company and not some highschool intern. “Sorry about that, how unforthcoming of myself. It's an absolute pleasure to meet you, my name is Tim Drake and it is an absolute pleasure” he offered a hand, trying to ignore the goosebumps that rippled over his arms as his body wanted nothing more than to run. He hated giving his actual name, but it was legally his here now too. A calling card for Jason, even if it made his paranoia spike.
Bruce would be disappointed. Would probably bench him for divulging such information.
“Tim? Nice to meet you, I'm Spider-man, just a little friendly neighborhood hero who looks out for the little guys” Peter beamed at getting another name.
“Why a spider?” Tim tried to hide the full body shiver by shifting his weight back away from the ledge and sitting down instead, safer. Plus it let him look at the city through his camera again and have a more polite way to avoid eye contact.
“Oh uh, I mean it made sense at the time. I have the enhanced abilities of a spider and my powers came from a spider, so” Peter shrugged slightly and took a step back, giving Tim a bit of space. He shifted around some until his joints protested at the positions, trying to find one that he wouldn't fidget too much in.
“Hm I guess that makes sense” Tim snapped a photo of the sun setting over the Harbour, its multicolored lights casting the city in an array of reflected reds pinks and oranges before spotting some movement again. He zeroed in, focusing on capturing the the flash of a white cloak before snapping a few photos before they were gone. It was nice, having the company, and not as bad when he didn't have to think about a massive spider, or all the nasty webs, or that maybe Spiderman ate bugs, or where those webs came from, and how much like a spider he was. Actually, maybe it was just Tim's loneliness that enjoyed another body up on the roof. Another person to talk to, someone to remind him that he wasn't alone, wasn't lost at sea on his tiny little life boat crashing amongst the waves, threatening to be sucked into the dark depths.
Absently, Tim wondered why his brain kept going to boat and ocean themed analogies. But he didn't have enough left in him to worry about that right now.
“Do you… would it be ok if I took some pictures of you? I'm trying to sell some photos to this newspaper and apparently none of my others mean much to them” Tim finally broke, glancing back at the hero only to immediately regret it as they shifted out of the inhuman position. Tim quickly looked away again, full body shuddering at the imagery.
“Let me guess, Daily Bugle? I had a friend who worked there for a bit, well, sold pictures to them for a bit, also featuring me. They will try and swing it like I'm a menace to society, which like I am, but not to them” Peter laughed lightly as he stretched. “Tell you what, you can get some photos of me, then let me walk you home? It's getting dark and this is a city. It would make me feel better knowing you were safe”
“Oh sure, but I don't want you knowing exactly where I live, safety reasons, so you can walk me closer” Tim didn't really want to go back to that stuffy hotel room, no yet at least. But a deal was a deal. Besides, he could always slip back out later.
He tried to focus on controlling his breathing as the hero swung out, angling his camera down to cast the suns setting rays just right. After a few photos he stood back up, almost immediately collapsing again before stretching his knees out. An annoyance, especially since those white lenses narrowed at him briefly.
“You ok?” Peter finally asked, watching as Tim almost immediately fell off the roof but caught himself.
“Yeah, just stiff from sitting” Tim grumbled, knowing that it most likely was exasperated due to his impromptu nap in the closet earlier. “You know I think I've met someone before with the whole… spider get up. Except he had guns, and was way bigger than you”
Peter tilted his head, white lenses narrowing. “Oh?”
“Your way creepier than him, even if his mask had a spider on it” he shuddered at the thought of this hero getting even more spidery. God he hoped he wasn't like stitch and could retract arms. He thinks if they were to pop out 8 legs suddenly he would have to throw himself off the ledge. “Thank you for the photos” Tim offered as he closes down his camera and snaps the large lense back into place and pops on the lense cap.
“Yeah, no problem. I hope you find your big break. Is that why you came to the city? For photography?”
“I actually came looking for my brother, but photography is a nice bonus. Plus selling some photos compensates my cost of living while I'm looking for him” Tim shrugged slightly as he slid the strap back over his head. He didn't really want to talk about this with a stranger. Especially one he couldn't stand looking at right now. But his mouth seemed to run away from him.
“Oh is your brother lost? Can I help?”
“Yes and no, he's older than me so he can be on his own. Has been on his own for a few years. But my… his dad needs him, so” Tim shrugged and started one more stretch before starting the climb down. He was aware the hero was hovering in case his fingers slid off the small edge, but he grew up doing this. Spent his childhood scaling buildings and snapping photos of shadows. Of heroes. In no time he was down in the ground again and Spiderman swung down to join him.
The walk back towards the hotel was nice. Thankfully the hero dropped the invasive questions and this allowed Tim to steer the conversation back to photography. It was nice having someone he could just talk about a passion with, talk about the newest lens technology but how old lenses give more flare. How developing your own photos is better because it gives control. Things that no one wants to listen to, yet this weird spider themed hero is more than happy to entertain, even adding in his own thoughts that mirror Tim's, showing he was not only listening, but also genuinely was following along. It left him feeling lighter than he had in a very, very long time.
But then they got close by, and Tim was left alone again. He drug his feet back up to his little room, past the flickering lights and dim hallways. And he was alone again, because no matter how nice it was, it was his destiny. Written in scripture since his birth, loneliness followed like a hollow ghost, an echo of the past. He tried to distract himself with touching up the photos some, tried to distract himself with poking at the watch, tried to distract himself with as much as he could until his brain felt like it was mush inside his skull. Then he turned in to sleep, laying down on the cold bed, his eyes focused on the ceiling while he tried to not think about his found family, his friends that he left behind.
Tim lays there, blue eyes counting the spots on the ceiling. He let's the cold wash over him, like crashing waves.
He lays there. Echoed voices from neighboring rooms the only thing tethering him yet. He let's the loneliness wash over him, swallowing him whole as the clock slowly ticks by.
He lays there, scratchy sheets barely providing warmth. Their white exterior scratchy from years of cleaning and bleach.
He lays there until the neighboring rooms all go to bed and its just him and his thoughts.
He lays there as the dull orange street lamp flickers into his room through the shity thin mustard yellow curtains.
He lays there and let's himself miss how the manor always had something going on. Even if it was just one of Damians animals walking down the hall or Dicks music seeping through the wall that he left playing to keep the nightmares at bay. Let's the loneliness wash over him until he feels like he may sink into the mattress and disappear. Ignores the nagging thought of… would anyone even notice?
Because surely his family was going crazy looking for him. Surely with how attached he was to them they would notice he was no longer there. Surely Bruce was being driven mad trying to replicate the process and Dick was frantically searching. It was selfish to hope that his family would be upset, selfish to hope someone would notice.
Selfish to think he was worth noticing.