Chapter Text
Bruce had recommended that if Tim still wanted to join patrol, then to at least go out slightly later than usual and Tim couldn’t agree more.
He was up on pain meds for his shitty brain and laying on his bed miserable. Bruce hadn’t wanted to leave but Tim insisted that he was fine. Bruce’s reluctance to go might have been due to Tim’s pathetically swollen red eyes and puffy face. He looked like a mess.
As time dragged on, Tim didn’t think he’d make it to patrol at all. He felt awful.
He definitely was not going to grab some food from the kitchen, that table was so jinxed.
But the longer he stayed laying there, alone and in the dark, the tighter his chest felt.
His diary log laid open on his desk, his most recent entry’s writing was barely legible, written with shaking fingers.
The soothing hug from Bruce had calmed Tim down enough to stop the shaking but when he left (through Tim’s own persistent insistence) then the shaking came back with a vengeance.
He had two blankets wrapped around him but he had been snuggled in long enough to admit that it wasn’t the cold. Now with his chest squeezing tighter every moment, he was scared. He didn’t want a flashback.
He didn’t want to go back.
Tim wanted to close his eyes but was terrified that it would be enough to send him into a dissociative state.
He tried counting the curtain rings on the rod, he tried going over every single sensation and texture he could feel on his skin and tried reciting the periodic table. But he felt himself slowly growing numb.
Bruce had gone on patrol as had Damian, not that Tim would ever ask his little brother for this type of help. Dick had to go back to Blüdhaven, there were only so many days off he could take. Alfred would be busy overseeing the patrol. And Tim didn't want to bother his friends and have to explain.
Although, while the humans were out, the Manor was full of furry friends these days.
With the hope of finding an animal to cuddle and weigh him down, Tim eased himself out of the bed. He stumbled once his feet were on the carpet, dizzy and breathless.
He was so tired.
Tim dragged himself through the corridor and nudged Damian’s open door wider. To his despair, Titus and Alfred the Cat were nowhere to be seen. He’d have to check Damian’s second most common hang out.
With his new destination in mind, Tim pushed himself to climb down the stairs, gripping firmly onto the handrail. He didn’t trust himself when he was in this state.
He was so cold.
Tim finally made it to the family room. Exhausted, he opened the door, scanning the room for any pets.
Only to make eye contact with Jason.
Startled, Tim straightened up. In his daze, he had forgotten that Jason was staying at the Manor for a few weeks. “Jason?”
“Tim.” Jason greeted with a brow raise from where his head was resting on the couch’s arm. His injured leg up on the large couch while his other foot stayed planted on the floor. One arm was resting on the back of the couch and the other held up a book.
Tim pondered over how long he’d have to wait for Bruce to get back. It had only been an hour since he left for patrol. He’d have to wait for ages. Would Dick mind a video call? He’d be Nightwing at this hour. Or maybe Tim could keep Alfred company in the Cave. Was that where the pets were? Maybe he should just go cuddle the cow.
“Earth to Timbo?”
Tim flinched as his eyes focused back. Meeting Jason’s frown. Dammit, was he going to dissociate? Had he just dissociated? He didn’t want to. He couldn’t handle it.
“Tim.” Jason set his book down on the coffee table. “You good, man?”
“I…”
‘Say something!’
“I’m tired.”
‘Say something else. ’
Jason blinked. “Then go the hell to bed?”
Tim’s heart stuttered at the thought of going back to his room alone and falling asleep to memories of a forgotten past.
“Dammit, kid, what’s the matter?” Jason snapped lightly. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
Jason wouldn’t get it. He was brash. Angry. He’d get annoyed at Tim for even suggesting to stay. It wasn’t as though he’d help Tim for no reason. They were alright when they were hanging out. But that’s where the line was.
Besides, Jason wasn’t a fan of physical contact.
… possibly because Jason had gone through the same thing.
Was it possible for Jason to understand? To know where Tim was coming from? Tim didn’t want to explain everything he’s been going through, but he also knew that Jason might accept him with no questions asked. But that was a big ‘might’.
Mr Harris was one of Jason’s monsters too.
Did Mr Harris hold Jason down the same way he held Tim down?
Or did Mr Harris also trick Jason with fake promises like the way he tricked Tim?
Staying quiet for so long was going to make Jason angry.
‘What’s the worst that could happen?’
He throws his book at me.
‘The worst thing is that he’ll tell you no. Then you go and find Alfred.’
That’s mortifying.
‘Open the tap.’
“I don’t… want to be alone.” Tim whispered. Heat rose to his cheeks.
Jason stayed silent for a moment before shrugging a shoulder. “Fine. Take a seat, kid.”
Did it work?
Timidly, Tim shuffled over to the single couch chair. Focusing on manually breathing evenly.
“Timbo, grab a blanket. You’re shaking.” Jason pointed out, nodding at the fluffy throw cover behind Tim’s chair.
Tim swallowed heavily. “I’m not actually cold… I’m just…”
Jason was uncharacteristically patient, waiting for Tim to continue.
The tree outside swayed in the breeze and Tim’s heart froze in terror when his mind reminded him of the Drake Manor’s window.
“…scared.”
‘Did you really just say that out loud?’
Jason froze at that statement and a sheet of silence laid itself down.
“Sorry.” Tim blurted. His heart still thumping like a rabbit’s.
But Jason was watching him carefully, Tim could feel his every cell being analysed.
“It’s okay.” Jason treaded carefully. “Is this an urgent matter?”
Tim’s brain was trying not to log off and didn’t understand, “huh?”
“Do I need to get the guns?” Jason asked seriously, already inching upright.
“Oh. No, no, no!” Tim waved his hands frantically, “it’s not… it’s not real?” He cringed at how stupid he sounded.
He stilled but even so, Jason didn’t relax. “Uh huh.”
“No, really.” Tim caught sight of a strong wind blowing the leaves off the tree in his peripheral vision and flinched. He noticed Jason’s gaze flicking over to the window. He probably thought there was someone out there. “Really. It’s just— it’s in my head.” Tim finally admitted.
Tim shuddered, “I don’t want to go back.” He whispered and pulled his gaze towards the plush carpet, unable to look Jason in the face.
“Go back where?” Jason matched his volume.
“To… my brain is messed up and… and it’s been pulling me back. I go away and I end up in the past.” Tim felt nauseous. “One time it took me twenty minutes to wake up.”
He heard Jason shift, “and not a magic thing?”
“No, I’m just crazy.”
“Hey, if you weren’t then you wouldn’t be a part of this family.” Jason joked before getting serious. “Are these flashbacks?”
Tim nodded, “but worse. I get that it's the past so it’s real. But sometimes it’s too real. I get warning signs before… I get dizzy, and twitchy, and breathless, and heart palpitations, and I can’t focus my eyes, and I feel light. I feel like I’m floating and I’m going to keep floating until I’m gone and I need something to keep me tethered and when I’m alone it’s so much more worse—” Tim gasped in a breath.
“Hey, hey.” Jason was sat up as much as his leg allowed it. “Breathe, kid.”
“I don’t want to go back!” Tim pressed his hands into his face, trying to heave in a breath and calm his trembling fingers. “And I won’t stop freaking shaking!”
“Tim—”
“I don’t— I don’t want to go back. I want to stay here. It’s real here. I don’t— I don’t—”
“Tim.” Jason’s voice broke through his confusion, firm and forceful. “Tim. Enough.”
Tim snapped his mouth shut. His lips quivering.
Jason took a breath. He seemed to be on the verge of panic himself.
Tim’s fault.
“Can you come here?” Jason surprised Tim by asking.
“Huh?” Tim asked, choking on his word.
“I would get up if my leg wasn’t a bitch. Can you come here?” Jason gestured.
Shakily, Tim stood and shuffled over. As soon as he approached Jason, the older boy looked into his eyes. “Listen, will you sit with me? Can I hold you?”
Tim’s brain was short circuiting. “Why?”
Jason’s ears were betraying his natural coolness, his blood painting them pink in embarrassment. “If you let me, I’ll keep you tethered, okay? I’ll hold you down. You ain’t floating nowhere.”
Tim’s hiccuping breaths hitched. That sounded so good. “Are you sure?”
“Don’t make me ask twice, kid.” Jason lifted an arm.
Tim timidly inched into Jason’s hold. He sat besides the man laying on the couch and let himself be tucked under his arm. To his complete shock, Jason pulled Tim down until they were laying side by side, resting his head on top of Jason’s shoulder. Jason’s arm curled around his middle.
Tightly.
“Is this okay?”
He finally felt warmth thawing the panicked ice claw clutching at his heart. He nodded.
Feeling small, he admitted, “my hands won’t stop.”
He lifted them to show Jason the way they shook, only for Jason to grab both hands in one of his calloused hands tightly. Blanketing them in his.
“I’ll keep you grounded, kid.” Jason promised gruffly.
Tim sniffed, clenching his eyes shut suddenly when he shifted on top of the couch and his mind taunted him.
Mr Harris laying him down, his bare skin on the cold couch—
“Hey.” Jason’s loud voice rattled through his head. “Keep your eyes open.”
Tim swallowed and obeyed. “My brain is messing with me.” He admitted vulnerably.
“It’s okay,” the boy who had taken a dip in Lazarus and fought through his own constant voices said comfortingly. “It’s gonna be okay.”
“I'm dissociating.”
“I know,” Jason held on tighter, keeping him present. “But I’m here. And this is real. Got that? If you go away, even if your mind takes you back, your body is here. With me. In the family room at the Manor. I’m gonna keep a lookout. No shit is gonna go down. When you get back to reality then I’m still gonna be here. You’re safe.”
Tim sniffed, not having expected this much help from Jason. He knew his brother was protective during battle but not when his own brain manipulated him.
“I keep going back there.” Tim whimpered vulnerably. “To the hands and I don’t want to.”
There was a pause before Jason asked gruffly, “did you want me to let go?”
“If you let go, I think I’ll finally break.” Tim admitted honestly and uncharacteristically. He was tired.
“Then I won’t. Can’t have you breaking. Alfred just hoovered.” Jason joked lightly and impossibly tightened his grip.
The shadows in the window moved and Tim suddenly pulled his hands out of the older boy’s hold and desperately grabbed onto Jason’s arm.
With his now free hand, Jason gently turned Tim’s face away from the window. “You’re alright.”
Tim dug his nails into Jason’s skin as he tried to breathe but the older didn’t complain. Instead, he reached over Tim and across onto the coffee table, never loosening his hold on Tim.
In a voice that was loud, and sure not to let Tim get distracted, Jason started to read.
Tim paused in his panic, listening to Jason narrate about the city of old London. His grip on Jason’s arm loosening while Jason kept his own grasp on Tim held tight.
He felt his soul calming, but not floating away. He was dizzy, but the world wasn’t spinning. His eyes were struggling to focus, but only because he was tired.
Tim listened, resting his head fully on Jason’s shoulder, his face now turned to the words on the pages. He followed along as Jason read, keeping away from the shadows taunting him outside the window.
Tim felt himself drifting away, not to the past, but to the foggy alleys of old London. He felt his body calming, allowing his imagination to conjure a map of the story’s world.
And if he fell asleep in his dream, his breaths whistling away while Jason stayed up for most of the night, keeping an eye on his brother for any signs of distress and never loosening his grip…
… then no one had to know.
(No one except for Bruce who stumbled upon them in a panic when neither of his middle sons were in their rooms.
He immediately framed that picture and placed it on his desk. Right next to Collin’s hospital report.)