Stargate Atlantis Crossover

"-touch that," Tim heard, and he was instantly awake. Why did he hear somebody talking? He was in his bedroom, and Bernard was on a book-signing tour. Tim would have gone with him, but he had classes to teach. And besides, that wasn't Bernard's voice. He grabbed his bo staff and extended it with the ease of practice. "Oh, great," whoever it is continues in the unhappy voice of a habitual complainer. "I don't even know what that did, but I guess we're going to find out."

Tim flicked the lights on. "Who are you and what are you doing in my house?"

"Oh look, Sheppard," the talkative one said. "You've somehow managed to transport us into somebody's house. God only knows what it actually is this time. Teleportation? Alternate reality? Time travel? If only I'd gotten a closer look at that machine I'd be able to tell you which one it is, but noooo…"

"Okay, so he's Sheppard," Tim said impatiently. "And I'm Tim Drake. Who are you?" Both of them were wearing military gear and carrying FN P90s, but the talker didn't look like somebody who was in the military, or at least any of the parts of the military that involved carrying a P90. The quiet one he could believe it of, though. He carried himself in that fake-relaxed way that meant he was ready to go for his gun at any moment.

"Dr. Rodney McKay. Perhaps you've heard of me?" he said hopefully. Tim got the impression that not many people had. The name seemed familiar, so Tim took a second to tease the memory out.

"Physics, right?" he asked. Dr. McKay nodded excitedly. "I have a friend who says good things about your work."

Sheppard rolled his eyes. "Great, just what we need, for you to have a bigger ego."

Tim relaxed, a little. He found it difficult to believe a physicist would have any reason to break into the house of a college professor, no matter whose company he was in. He didn't relax all the way, but…he wasn't Bruce. He could trust people, even if only a little. And stranger things had happened in this universe than random teleportation.

They all jumped a little when the alarm clock went off. Tim glanced at it as he turned it off, and realized he'd set it to the wrong time and he'd have to hurry if he wanted to take a shower before Steph arrived. "Crap."

"Uh, we can go…" Sheppard said, edging towards the door.

"No we can't," McKay protested. "We must be ba-" He stopped himself as Sheppard glared at him. "Uh. We need to…use the phone first?"

"If that's all right with you," Sheppard said, a diplomatic smile on his face. He was clearly used to covering up McKay's social gaffes.

"Knock yourself out," Tim said, and shrank the staff again. "I really need to take a shower and I doubt you can mess anything up no matter how hard you try. If you need anything else just wander around until you find it." He didn't tell them about the many cameras throughout the house. Or about the many superheroes he knew. If they misbehaved they'd know soon enough. Plus, everything in the house had survived Steph's kids, they could surely survive two adults. Speaking of which…he left for the shower.

***

He came out of the shower in time to hear the end of the phone call, because he really didn't have the time to take a longer shower. It might be the best shower money could buy (with a water heater to match), but he could use it every day, so he only felt a little twinge at having to cut it so short as he wrapped a towel around his waist.

"What do you mean I don't exist? Of course I exist, I was in Afghanistan…what?!" Sheppard removed the phone from his ear and stared at it. "She said I wasn't in their records." He sounded hurt.

"Maybe it's just a clerical error or something," McKay tried to cheer him up, and then immediately ruined it by continuing to talk. "Although that doesn't explain why none of the numbers worked. And really, did they all have to be to prisons? If this is an alternate universe it kind of makes me wonder about the equivalency it has to the SGC."

Tim could tell that if McKay was in babbling mode he wouldn't overhear anything more that was useful. "Nowhere else to go?" he asked, pushing open the door. "I'll make you a deal, you help me babysit and I'll help you out. Or rather, I'll put you in contact with the people who will." They jumped a little. Still got it, Tim thought with a mental smirk. Just because he didn't have any legitimate use of most of his Robin skills didn't mean he didn't keep in practice with them.

"I don't do kids," McKay said immediately.

"I didn't think you did," Tim said, pulling out clothes. "My friend really wants to talk to you, so as soon as it's a reasonable time I'll call him and he'll come over. The babysitting thing was directed at Sheppard. By the way, Lieutenant-Colonel Sheppard, do you have a first name?"

"John," he said with a lazy smile. "And I guess I could help you babysit if you really know people who can help us out." He looked skeptical at the idea, but they didn't appear to be in a dimension that had very much in common with theirs, at least in terms of whoever they were trying to call.

"Okay, then we'd better lock up your guns before the kids get here." They looked like they were about to protest. Tim fixed them with a glare. "I don't know anything about what your dimension's like, but in this one we don't carry guns around kids. If you refuse to surrender your weapons you're free to leave, but you are not staying if that's the case. Those kids are messed up enough already without adding one of them accidentally blowing his head off into the mix." Tim had seen that before, of course, in between saving the world or at least the people of Gotham from aliens, from Poison Ivy, from the Joker. A small body on the floor, the wall splattered with red, a father running in to cry over a boy who'd have to have a closed-casket funeral.

"I get your point," John said. "Maybe we can do it after you get dressed though?" Tim was suddenly aware of the armful of clothes and his slipping towel.

"Uh…wait for me in the hall," he commanded. Rodney barely waited for the door to close before he started complaining at and berating John.

***

"So…do you find yourself locking up the guns of people from alternate dimensions often?" John asked, unclipping his P90 and putting it in the safe.

"Not as such, no," Tim replied. "I mean, I've dealt with alternate dimensions a few times, and in my old job I..." he paused to consider how to phrase it without giving too much away. "I took a lot of guns away from people. Not both at the same time, though."

"Is the alternate dimensions thing common here, or are you just unusual?" Rodney asked excitedly. "Because it would be interesting to study if there are dimensions which have more interdimensional activity than others."

"I'm a little bit unusual, but that kind of thing is pretty common in this universe. Everybody knows somebody who knows somebody who's been tossed into another dimension temporarily. Of course, the JLA and everybody probably get tossed into an alternate dimension every third week or something."

"Did you seriously just say the JLA?" Rodney asked. "As in the Justice League?"

"Uh…yes?" It was clear that Rodney knew about the JLA, but his reaction didn't fit with there being a JLA in his reality, at least not a JLA in the form Tim knew it in.

"The JLA is fictional!" Rodney exclaimed, and it made sense. "We can't be in a universe where, where, Clark Kent is Superman! The laws of physics have to be the same, even in alternate realities." He was so worked up that he couldn't talk any more, even though his mouth worked. Tim stared.

"You know, Rodney, I kind of think that's the kind of information we're not supposed to share in this universe," John said. "And also, we fight space vampires, we don't have any right to deny any other universe's reality."

"It's okay," Tim choked out. "I already knew." He pulled himself together by taking the last grenade from John's hand, putting it in the safe, and locking it. "Allow me to reintroduce myself," he said, completely under control. "Tim Drake, former third Robin." He started to say more, since he could be more honest, but the doorbell rang. "Crap. Uh, I know you have questions and frankly so do I but they're going to have to wait until the kids are gone. And please, try to refrain from discussing any secret identities you may know, even in private. They have really good hearing." He opened the door. "Hey guys, Steph. This is Rodney McKay and John Sheppard, they're visiting me today. Rodney, John, this is Tom, Bryan," he gestured at the twins, "Jody, and Steph."

Steph gave him a questioning look as they exchanged greetings. "Tom and Bryan too much for you?" she made the obligatory joke.

"I've learned the value of teamwork." He taps alternate dimension in Morse code on the door frame. It won't work for much longer before the kids learn the code, but it's useful today. And for now using it where they can see just has the effect of encouraging them to learn something that might save their lives someday.

Tom made a face. "Come on," he told Bryan. "You can help me choose a recipe." Tom had been getting interested in cooking lately, and with their extended 'family' he had plenty of opportunities to practice. Jody followed them into the house as silently as she did most things, ever-present sketchpad clutched firmly to her chest.

"I take it you can handle things?" Steph asked. The question had nothing to do with the kids.

"Yeah," Tim replied. "I was going to have Richie over to talk physics with Rodney. Other than that it shouldn't be much of a problem."

"Standing right here," Rodney said in a singsong voice.

"Who was talking about you?" Tim asked, raising a brow. "Whenever Richie starts talking physics he wants to try it out by building new devices." John snorted and Tim knew by the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that getting Richie and Rodney together was probably a very bad idea. If he didn't know how upset Richie would be with him later when he learned that Tim had had one of the few physicists Richie respected in his clutches and had let him go without contacting Richie, he wouldn't do it.

"So, I guess I'll go to work now?" Steph said. "If you're sure…"

"Have fun," he told her. "And stop worrying so much. What could possibly go wrong with interdimensional travel?" She laughed and waved goodbye as she headed back to the minivan. Tim closed the door. "I guess we should go see what Tom's going to cook, make sure it doesn't have anything anybody's allergic to in it."

"I'm allergic to citrus," Rodney volunteers. "Really allergic. I carry an epi pen everywhere with me, but I'd really prefer not to have to use it and go to the hospital."

"Not to mention the fact that our insurance probably isn't good in this dimension," John pointed out helpfully.

"Oh that's a comforting thought," Rodney said. "As if it wasn't bad enough being here, now if I go into anaphylactic shock I might not even get medical treatment because of your country's screwy medical system."

"I'm sure I could manage something," Tim said mildly. It wouldn't be like it was the first time he'd had to check people without insurance they could use into the hospital on too short of notice to rig something up, and he'd stocked the first aid kit (and periodically checked it to make sure nothing had expired and hadn't been ransacked by the kids) in the house himself, so he knew he could manage anything short of surgery if need be.

While Rodney made sure Tom wasn't going to cook anything with citrus in it (and informed him of his dietary preferences), Tim called Richie. 6 AM wasn't too early to expect a superhero/computer programmer to be up, right?

***

Richie and Rodney hit it off right away, probably because both of them knew what they were talking about and didn't veer out of the realm of physics much. Not that Richie would have gotten upset anyway, but Tim got the impression that Rodney wasn't exactly easy to live with. So they talked physics that even Tim didn't understand much of (Bryan seemed fascinated even though he couldn't have understood even that little. Tim made a mental note to see what he could do to encourage that interest. They were all a little worried that Steph's kids would follow in their parents' footsteps, even though they knew what kind of people they were now and Steph was doing a good job of raising them.) and Rodney's eyes gleamed when he looked at Backpack like he wanted nothing more than to take it apart and Jody sketched as constantly and as quietly as she always did.

"So you're in the military," Tim said to John. "What branch?" He took a bite of one of Tom's Alfred-recipe cookies.

"Air force," John replied and bit into his own cookie. "We don't have these on Atl- where we're from."

"They're not too common here either." Tim gave a little smile. "Special recipe."

"So why do you ask?" John asked.

"Mostly just curiosity," Tim replied. They were silent for a few more moments, watching Richie and Rodney discussing some element of theoretical physics which was probably ten years beyond what the next-most-foremost experts in the field were working on. Pieces of paper on the table rapidly filled up with equations. Everything seemed quiet for now. Finally Tim turned to John. "Want to go to the gym?"

"Do you think it's a good idea to leave the kids with those two?" John asked skeptically. "The house could burn down and they wouldn't notice right now."

Tim waved that concern away. "It's a home gym, so there isn't a problem. Actually, I'd appreciate it if you'd spar with me."

"This isn't going to involve sticks of some sort, is it?" John asked warily. "Because I get enough of those sorts of sparring sessions back home."

"I promise, we can stick to unarmed if you'd prefer. Or whatever you'd like, really. Armed, unarmed, one-handed, using only one combat style, whatever. It'll be good just to have somebody new to spar with."

"Just without the sticks is fine," John assured him. "You ever try to fight somebody with sticks? It's not as much fun as you might think."

"One of my usual sparring partners, Dick, uses escrima sticks most of the time. He got this custom cane that he can take apart to turn into them." Tim made a face. "He hasn't been much of an opponent since he got shot because his mobility's so reduced. I can actually beat him half the time."

***

John hit the mat for the fifth time in a row. "How did you do that?" he demanded when he got his breath back.

Tim offered him a hand and helped him up. "You're me and I'm you, all right? For the purposes of this demonstration. So when I move like this," he made the move John had made seconds earlier, "you grab me there. No, higher. Yeah," he said as John grabbed him in what was apparently the right way. "So I'm moving like this, and if you kind of twist your hips and tug…" he landed on the mat like John had.

"What's that, aikido?" John asked, helping Tim up.

"No, it's, uh…" Tim rubbed his forehead. "I can barely remember anymore. Oh yeah! I learned it from somebody in the League of Assassins, so I have no idea what it's from, really. Sorry I used it on you, I didn't mean to use anything exotic, but it's been so long since I limited myself that I forgot." He suddenly realized that that might sound rude or cruel, but he didn't mean it that way. "I mean…"

John waved it away. "I know what you meant, don't worry about it. Teyla and Ronon make fun of my hand-to-hand abilities often enough that it doesn't really bother me anymore, especially when I'm learning something from getting beat up. And you're a good teacher."

"Well I am a professor of criminology," Tim said drily. "I should hope I'm good at teaching."

***

Jody was using the scanner to scan in her sketches like she always did (she emailed them all to Kyle, who critiqued them even when he couldn't actually make it back to Earth), Tom was playing a game on one of the computers, and Bryan was still fascinatedly listening to Richie and Rodney when Steph got back from work. The kitchen probably looked like there had been a food explosion in it as always, but Tim hadn't checked yet. Besides, the food was worth it.

"Steph!" Jody exclaimed, and showed her sketches to Steph with her usual brilliant grin. Most of them appeared to be of Richie and Rodney (and Backpack), but she'd done a few of him and John too. He hadn't noticed her being in the gym. Maybe she was picking up stealth skills just from being around the former Robins. Tim understood how Jim Gordon had felt when he'd told Batman he should wear a bell like a cat.

"Bryan seems interested in physics," Tim told Steph.

"Does he understand any of it?" she asked.

"It's cutting-edge theoretical physics that'll probably be put into action in less than a week," he pointed out. "I don't understand much of it. The pictures probably help, though."

"They're drawing pictures?" Her mouth quirked.

"Just little sketches. And every time they say something remotely comprehensible Jody sketches it. Her sketches are much prettier."

"I don't doubt it," she replied. "Jody's a good artist."

***

The kids and Steph had gone home and Richie and Rodney still didn't show signs of letting up. Eventually Tim decided to just butt in, as neither of them was giving anybody enough time to start speaking without interrupting them. "So, do you think you can fix the whole dimensional thing?"

"Yeah yeah," Richie said dismissively. "We just need to get access to the dimensional travel machine I know Batman must have. It shouldn't be difficult to get a lock on their home dimension." He turned back to Rodney. "So have you tried…" the rest of his sentence was gibberish to Tim.

Tim slumped down on the couch, groaning. It was kind of embarrassing going to Bruce with every little dimensional problem he ran into (okay, he didn't run into them often, but it was Bruce, so it felt like a lot more than it actually was). Not to mention awkward. They didn't talk much in the normal course of things.

"So can we discuss the…you know…now?" John asked. "Because I must say, I'm a little bit freaked out at the thought of meeting Batman."

"Don't get your hopes up too high," Tim replied. "He's not exactly easy to live with. Or work with."

"Hey, I've read a few comics," John said. "I believe you. But still…he's Batman."

Tim picked up the phone and dialed. "Hey Bruce? It's me…"

***

Bruce was at his most Batmannish, standing there and glaring at the intruders in his Cave (and at the guns they had with them). Richie and Rodney were absorbed in making the device work, while John wandered around and looked at the various trophies ("Wow, that giant penny's kind of intimidating in person"). In the interests of keeping the peace, Tim followed John and told him the stories behind the trophies. Most of them he'd known the stories to since before he even considered becoming Robin, since before he revealed himself to Bruce and Dick and Jason and Alfred.

He hadn't been in the Cave or the Manor since before Alfred had died. His absence was obvious in the thin layer of dust over everything, in the pile of clothes on a chair, in the MREs and Power Bars that Bruce had obviously been living on, from the evidence in the unemptied trash.

Richie had been right, and it didn't take long for the dimensional gateway to be set up. "I'd say see you later, but as fun as this has been I'd prefer not to repeat it," John said. "Who knows what freaky alternate reality we might end up in next time?"

"Likewise," Tim said. John and Rodney stepped through the gateway, taking pages of equations and copies of sketches with them.