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For some reason the fireworks weren’t making the sounds that they were supposed to. Usually they would pop or crackle or boom or really make sounds in general before the explosion of colour.
Or was it after the explosion of colour? Before, it was definitely before. Wait, actually, when thunder cracks was it meant to be before or after the lightning arcs across the sky? Well, whatever the case it didn’t matter because lighting doesn’t have an explosion of colour like fireworks do.
There… There was meant to be an explosion of colour, Tim was sure of at least that much. Fireworks were meant to be colourful, lightning was just whiteish and maybe occasionally purplish but fireworks were always colourful, that’s just how they work with all the… All the fire, and stuff.
Tim appreciated the fireworks show, kicking his legs over the edge of the building as he leaned backwards to try to get the best view.
He didn’t know if it counted as a fireworks show if the fireworks were only red and blue, but surely anything more than just two fireworks going off meant that it was a show and far more than two had gone off because the world has been flashing red, blue, red, blue, for ages so it was absolutely a full show and not just some bored teenagers with squirrelled away crackers.
Red, blue, red, blue, the world pulsed again and again and maybe this wasn’t a show, maybe the universe really was red then blue then red again and he just hadn’t really noticed as such before.
Red.
Blue.
Red.
Actually, there was a sound coming from the fireworks but it still wasn’t the popping and crackling and explosions it should be, it was almost like a shrill scream instead.
Maybe… Maybe it wasn’t fireworks then? But did it still count as a fireworks show, if there wasn’t any fireworks. Tim didn’t think so, though he wasn’t quite sure if it was just a light show instead.
Regardless, there was colours and they were flashing and the loud screaming was coming closer but it wasn’t coming from above like he thought it would but instead across from him.
Tim kicked his legs in time with it, red meant it was his right leg, blue meant that he moved his left leg instead. Right, left, right, left. He waited for a gentle wind to blow through his hair like it always did when he was so high up but none came, the only whoosh of air happening when Tim forced out a big breath just to see if it blew out all the candles.
There wasn’t any candles, they were fireworks except fire meant candles and candles meant… Something.
The sound was coming even closer, the scream, no, siren? The siren echoed in through one ear and out the other just like how Dad always described him whenever Tim couldn’t remember to do every single thing Dad had asked him to do.
Tim must have missed some chores again except there wasn’t meant to be chores outside, that was for the gardener to do, but Tim was outside, he was absolutely completely one hundred percent outside even if the wind wasn’t playing with his hair.
Red. Right leg.
Blue. Left leg.
Red. Right leg.
He… He wasn’t sitting on a ledge. Well, he was technically sitting somewhere with his legs hung over the edge of it or else he wouldn’t be able to move his legs like that but he wasn’t actually on top of a roof top because police cars don’t look like that from so far away which meant they were closer.
Of course, it was possible that the police cars were simply flying, you never knew what kind of things could happen in Gotham until they happened and flying police cars weren’t actually all that surprising.
Police cars.
There… There were police cars.
The fireworks, no, the police car lights were coming ever closer, making his head spin alongside the screaming sirens. Screaming, or wailing? Or just… Siren-ing? Was that a word? Dick would probably say that it was a word.
For some reason the thought of Dick made a tear slip quick from his eye, dropping down his entire face before he really registered it’s burn.
Tim needed to, he, he needed to do something. Dick, Dick was, he, there as something that Tim was supposed to do and if he didn’t do it then his Dad was going to be incredibly angry with him and Tim didn’t want Dad to be upset again except he didn’t actually give a shit about what his Dad thought because the priority was finding Dick and…
And doing something.
Saving him? Was Dick in danger?
Hugging him? Had Tim been in danger but had managed to get himself out of it?
Tim’s head hurt but when he raised a hand to rub the track of the tear fully away he overshot his cheeks and instead hit his temple.
Fireworks really did explode then and he rocked forward as his stomach turned because holy fuck that hurt.
When he finally managed to mostly blink through the nothingness, the red and blue flashes replacing it, he realised that his fingers were wet. It… It wasn’t raining. His fingers shouldn’t be wet because it was not raining, it wasn’t, it couldn’t be, it, it wasn’t raining but there was now more wetness running down his face because maybe it really was raining but it wasn’t it wasn’t it couldn’t be it-
It…
Tim curled into himself with a whine, tucking his legs beneath him as the metronome of red and blue lights fully returned to their previous pattern.
There was a tightness in Tim’s chest but he didn’t mention it to anyone, couldn’t mention it to anyone, because Mom and Dad don’t like to hear him complaining when he should instead just be grateful for all that they have provided him with.
There was a tightness in Tim’s chest that made it hard to breathe.
He couldn’t breathe.
He… Tim couldn’t breathe, he needed to breathe, he needed to otherwise he was going to die except he wasn’t going to die it was probably just another panic attack or a few broken ribs, whatever it was it was going to be fine because everything always ended up being fine no matter how much it felt like he was being torn apart.
Tim rocked in place, no longer able to move his legs in time with the flashes.
He should probably move from the rooftop, Batman and Robin would have disappeared the moment the police cars got too close which meant he wouldn’t be getting any more cool photos of them here except Batman and Robin hadn’t been here in the first place, no one had, not even Tim.
Wait, how long had Tim been here for?
A few seconds?
An eternity?
Another sound passed through his lips unbidden, this one no less pathetic than the whine had been.
Dick needed Tim to focus except Dick wasn’t here but Tim didn’t know if Dick wasn’t here because he was in danger or because he was safe at home and the world was spinning and the lights were still flashing and everything was spinning.
Tim curled even tighter as the sirens all at once cut off, if anything the sudden lack of sound making everything else sound so much louder. Tim’s own breaths were ragged, because he was breathing after all, but without the distracting sirens his breathing was so loud it was so loud he needed it to stop, he needed everything to stop.
Tugging at his hair made no difference to the sensory input, even the pain of brushing against the cut on his forehead not enough to drown out everything else.
The lights were still flashing even if the sirens had stopped which meant the police were still here which by extension meant that Tim himself shouldn’t be. He needed to go, now, before he caused his parents any more trouble than he already has except as Tim tried to stand he flopped forward instead because his legs were beneath the rest of his body and he hadn’t remembered to catch himself and his head was spinning so much worse now because he was an idiot, he was such an idiot because he should have caught himself, he should have, have, have done something even if he couldn’t quite remember what that something had been.
Tim needed to go. He needed to go, now, before the cops spotted him amongst the fire escapes except Tim wasn’t anywhere near a fire escape he was sitting on the edge of something at close to eye level with patrol cars.
There were two of them, their damn lights still lighting up like lights are wont to do. Two patrol cars as if they had expected to need back up to deal with the threat even before they had to assess it.
Threat, there was a threat.
A super villain? No, the cops would have made a barricade, they wouldn’t have gotten out of the car and they certainly wouldn’t be walking so slowly like that.
A normal non-super villain? That… Didn’t sound quite right either.
Tim rocked forward, only then realising that he’d pushed himself upright again after he had fallen in the first place.
He should go, he needed to go, but just like before his legs did not want to respond to him.
Clawing at his chest didn’t make him move either, nor did tugging hard at his hair. In fact, both had only made pain rock through him. Pain, he should focus on the pain, focus on the pain just long enough to get himself out of danger except he wasn’t in danger, he was just…
He was wet.
It wasn’t raining but it wasn’t wet and it wasn’t just tears either because even Tim couldn’t cry this much.
A fountain. He was sitting in a fountain. He had been on the edge of it but he’d fallen fully into it without ever registering that he had nearly drowned in it because the flashing lights had been flashing too much. But that didn’t make any sense, Tim might be stupid just like his Father so claimed but even Tim should have realised that he’d fallen into water.
But Tim was wet.
And he was sitting in water.
He was sitting in a fountain.
Tim… Should not be sitting in a fountain.
He should be finding Dick. No, Dick should be finding him?
Tim huffed out a hot breath, sick of his stupid not so genius intellect because what the fuck was going on and why the hell was his head hurting so much.
In all the time he had wasted working out that he was indeed sitting in a fountain, the two cops from the closest patrol car had started to approach, one of their hands already on the butt of their side arm as if expecting him to all at once surge them.
Two cops. Tim could take them, easily, but he should probably just disappear into the nothingness instead.
“Move along, Kid,” One said.
The cop that had spoken was the skinnier of the two, and apparently the one that did not have their hand on their gun.
“Move along, Kid.” Tim said.
Tim blinked hard, his own voice sounding wrong even to himself, especially considering he hadn’t even intended on speaking in the first place.
The one with the hand on the gun because there was a gun and Tim didn’t want to get shot again, that would make this week even worse than it had already been, they, they had a gun, Tim should probably try to disarm them of the gun except the cop hadn’t actually drawn it yet but by the time they did bring it out it was probably going to be too late and Tim was late, he was late for something, he… He was late for something.
Tim did not want to be late for something.
“Kid,” The skinnier cop said. “You on something? You know, there’s-”
“Fountain.” Tim said.
The cop stared at him because apparently the cop wasn’t very bright, at least not as bright as the lights were.
“I’m on a fountain.” Tim said. “In? In a fountain. Move along, Kid.”
The cop with the gun except they both had guns because cops have guns and cops… Cops were something.
Tim shook his head hard trying to clear it but only succeeded in making his brain pound against his skull because apparently that was a thing brains could do.
The other two cops, the ones from the other patrol car, were no longer in the other patrol car. That felt important for some reason, just like how it was important that Tim was sitting in a fountain.
Maybe it was important because he would need to fight all four. Maybe it was important because four was a cooler number than two. Twice as cool, in fact. Shit, never mind the coolness of numbers he needed to get out of here before the other cops got to him.
“Dispatch, can we get a medic down on- Hey! Wait a second!”
Tim didn’t wait to hear whatever the cop had to say, instead racing down the street, firing off his grappling hook and face planting on the ground because apparently he doesn’t actually have a grappling hook.
He did, however, have new blood running down his face now because apparently the universe just loves him that much.
Tim knew that he should have jumped back up in an instant, a vigilante can never let something as stupid as a face plant keep them from getting to safety, but his legs didn’t really feel like legs right now and all he could do instead was curl into a ball and cry.
A hand gripped onto his own and Tim screeched before he could stop himself, bracing for a blow that would not come because Dad knew better than to leave bruises except the hand touching him let go instead of holding him in place.
“Kid, show me your wrist.”
It was important that Tim complied, not because his Dad had taught him well to comply with whatever was commanded of him because fuck Jack Drake but because it was important that they see what was on his wrist.
Even so, Tim did not want anyone touching him right now, least of all a cop, so he tucked his arm fully beneath himself, careful to hide his wrist in particular.
“Kid.”
It was a warning this time, they were done playing games except this wasn’t a game, games weren’t meant to make his head spin like this.
“Show me your damn wrist.”
“It’s just a bracelet,” Another cop said. “Probably not worth shit, Jer.”
Bracelet.
Important.
Bracelet.
Fireworks.
Sirens.
Bracelet.
Tim whined, curling tighter.
A rough hand shoved him then and Tim launched himself at the bastard who touched him, fully intending on biting them but he’d overshot the mark and had instead accidentally barrelled into the cops chest.
The cop, self absorbed piece of shit that he was, thought that Tim was some scared kid in need of a hug so he wrapped his arms around Tim, effectively trapping him.
Only one of Tim’s arms were free but before he could fully register that that was the case, one of the other cops pulled it upwards, twisting his arm in the light.
Tim snarled but it came off more as a whimper.
“Shit,” The man said. “He’s one of those Wayne boys. Dispatch? Yeah, we’re definitely gonna need some medics, we’ve got a VIP here covered in blood, medical ID claims he’s got epilepsy and no spleen. Yeah, he’s confused as all hell, keeps rambling about fireworks for some reason.”
Tim stopped whimper-snarling. He hadn’t mentioned the fireworks, he hadn’t said anything at all to these annoying idiots. Apart from maybe mentioning the fountain he’s in. Was in. Was on? Was something.
The lights were still flashing.
The lights, they were, they were flashing. Red. Blue. Red.
The lights were spinning around in his head like fireworks except fireworks don’t flash like that and he didn’t think they were meant to spin either except except except.
Tim’s stomach rolled but closing his eyes did nothing to stop the world from spinning. Then again, if he had thought that the cop was self absorbed because he thought that Tim had tried to hug him instead claw his throat out then it was definitely self absorbed to think that the world was spinning only because Tim’s head was being a bit weird and not because of all the forces working in tandem that made Earth spin on its axis.
Axis.
Axis is a cool word.
The lights were still flashing.
Tim waved at them, commanding that they stop but his arm uselessly flopped against the cop instead.
His hand didn’t feel like his hand either, now that Tim thought about it.
Oh.
Epilepsy. The cop had said something about Epilepsy. He hoped that whoever had it had protocols in place to manage it to keep them as safe as possible.
Safe.
Dick.
Tim needed to get Dick safe.
Dick was safe?
No, he was in danger, he was hurt, he was depending on Tim to… Do something.
Maybe Dick was depending on Tim to have a seizure? Well, that didn’t sound very fun but he supposed that Dick’s plans usually work out for the most part so Tim let the darkness claim him.
The sirens were screaming again except it was wrong, everything was wrong, the tone was different, the pavement beneath him was different but he hadn’t been on pavement he’d been in some dumb cop’s arms but it was all wrong everything was wrong everything was spinning and he was vomiting except he wasn’t vomiting on a cop, he was throwing up into a small bag.
Tim shuddered as he retched again, his whole abdomen spasming as he tried to bring up stuff that simply was not there to be brought up and fuck everything hurt.
A final lurch gave way to a ridiculous whimper instead as Tim curled tightly into himself, still laid up on his side in the too bright sunlight. It wasn’t sunlight, it was artificial lights that blazed above him and Tim had been stupid to ever think otherwise.
The siren was still wailing, the whole world tilting to the left as the vehicle he was in turned too sharply.
Tim clamped his hands onto his ears hoping that would be enough to drown out the sirens but it wasn’t. Instead Tim tried to cover his eyes against the too bright lights but something pulled at his skin instead.
He was sitting up in an instant, hand already gripping onto and pulling out the IV line even before he fully registered that it was there at all.
The explosion of pain sharpened everything and Tim at once knew who he was where he was and what was happening but it was all already fading again and he was fading and he couldn’t fade, not yet, not while Dick needed him.
Tim was still sitting up except his body was trembling from the effort and all it took was a single nudge from a stranger before Tim was on his side again with his legs tucked up to his chest.
The stranger was talking, Tim knew that they were talking even if their actual words were a million miles away.
When the sirens turned off this time, Tim tried to convince himself that he had been ready for it except he hadn’t been and it had left him gagging all over again, only managing to bring up bile that burned his throat hotter than the tears did.
Even now that his nausea had mostly passed, Tim’s body hurt.
Overextended muscles screamed over one another trying to claim that they were what hurt the most when it was clearly Tim’s head that was the most fucked seeing as the moment his hand reached towards it the stranger, the paramedic, was forcing it away.
They were still talking but Tim couldn’t make sense of the gibberish they were sprouting anymore than he could remember what it was he was supposed to be doing instead of lying here on this damn gurney in this damn ambulance.
Tim sobbed, unable to help it this time any more than he had been able to hold back all the other wretched sounds he’s given off and he absolutely hated how he leaned into the paramedics touch when they were kind enough to wipe away his tears.
He knew he needed to get a hold of himself, of course he did, but he simply couldn’t, not yet at least.
“We’re nearly there, Tim, you’re doing very well, just a little longer.”
Nearly there? To Dick? Were they going to Dick? No, of course not, they were going to the Drake Estate because Tim has very clearly messed up again and his Mom and Dad were going to be so mad with him.
Shame overtook all else because he could not call himself a Drake if he was so pathetic as to have epilepsy.
Tim stilled.
Epilepsy.
Seizure.
He’d had a seizure, multiple most likely, and Dick was in danger and Tim was launching up off the gurney and going for the back door of the ambulance but arms were wrapping around him and Tim was thrashing but he had no strength, sinking to the floor instead with the paramedic still gripping him.
“Easy, easy, Tim, everything’s okay.”
Nothing was okay because Dick was in danger and Tim was in some fucking ambulance because he’d had another fucking seizure and this motherfucker needed to let go of him right now or Tim was going to-
Going to-
Going.
He was going.
Tim was…
Tim blinked, wondering when he had been dragged back up to the bed, only distantly recognising the feel of the mattress below him.
The mattress was different.
The lights were different.
Tim was different, now curled up on his side, a hand carding through his hair. The fingers shifted, sliding down from his hair before finally cupping his cheek. His eyes stung, only now realising that they had been and still were fully closed and he’d never blinked at all, a hot tear rolling down his face.
The tear was brushed away but if anything it just made Tim want to cry outright. He didn’t, pulling away from the gentle contact instead.
“I’m okay.” Tim said.
It came out more as a croak but he couldn’t swallow the lump in his throat, his whole body too sore to be able to focus on my else.
Tim should have feigned sleep rather than acknowledge that he was awake, should have waited until Bruce Wayne had stood up and walked away but he hadn’t and that now meant that Tim had to deal with that now familiar twist in Bruce’s face that housed the complexities that so many people that didn’t think Bruce capable of.
“I’m okay.” Tim said again. “I’m sorry.”
Bruce’s hand, no longer on Tim’s cheek, came to rest on the edge of Tim’s bed. It was close enough that Tim would only need to reach out a little before his own hand would make contact but he didn’t; he couldn’t.
It was a moment, an eternity really, before Bruce seemed to gather his words.
“Tim, what was it that we said about feeling the need to apologise when you have had a medical episode?”
Tim wanted to scream. He wanted to pound fists against Bruce’s chest because Bruce needed to shut the fuck up about therapy shit for once. He wanted to curl up against Bruce, his dad’s arms wrapped around him as he was promised again and again that he was okay, that everything was okay.
All Tim did was plaster on a perfect Gala smile but before he could give Bruce that perfect answer he was looking for, Bruce spoke first.
“Tim.” Bruce’s voice had changed, it had softened. “The important thing right now is that you’re safe.”
The word had once meant nothing to him but now Tim sensed the truth in it. He was safe. He was loved. Everything was going to be okay after all because his Dad was here now and that meant that it was going to be alright.
Exhaustion tugged at him but there was something else that was niggling at the back of his mind too.
Safe.
Tim was safe.
He was safe, there shouldn’t be anything else that was bothering him but then memories hit him harder than any muscle pain ever could and shame came quickly after because he’d forgotten, again, that Dick was in danger.
Tim surged up off the bed but unlike the Paramedic, Bruce had been expecting it and he managed to keep Tim from falling on the floor. Bruce’s grip shifted a little, more into a hug than simple restraint and Tim couldn’t stop his hand from curling into Bruce’s shirt.
“Easy, Son,” Bruce rumbled. “It’s alright.”
“Dick! They’re gonna kill him, Bruce! I need to go back, I need to go back and-“
Bruce’s hold had changed again, not quite letting Tim go but making it clear that he was going to fully listen to what it was that Tim had to say even if Tim’s own mouth didn’t seem to be able to catch up with his racing thoughts.
“Follow my breathing, Lad.”
“There’s no time!”
“Tim. Follow my breathing.”
The instinct to demand if it was an order fell away just as soon as Tim realised that he really wasn’t breathing. He made a show of sucking in a deep breath but it lodged in his throat and his whole body shuddered with the effort.
Bruce did not admonish him for failing such a simple task, simply taking in his own breath as if to give Tim something to follow.
Tim took in a breath, his eyes burning.
“And another,” Bruce murmured.
He did, unable to meet Bruce’s eye as this one caught too. Finally his body seemed to remember what it actually needed to do, though it was still a monumental effort to actually suck in the air, take the oxygen from it, expelling the carbon dioxide.
“And another.”
Tim breathed. His shaking slowed until it was more the occasional shiver. He breathed and he tried not to cry and he bumped his head against his Dad’s chest, hand still curled in Bruce’s shirt.
“Can I touch your back?” Bruce asked.
Tim nodded mutely.
Bruce’s hand followed the ridges of Tim’s spine, applying just enough pressure to be fully felt without it being painful. Up and down it went, each successful lap making things settle just a little more.
Finally when Tim tried to pull away from Bruce, he was left even more impossibly exhausted as if multiple seizures in a single day hadn’t already been enough for his stupid body.
“Okay,” Bruce said. “What’s this about Dick being in danger?”
When new panic tried to seize Tim, he didn’t let it. This was just a report. He just needed to state the facts. This was Batman he was talking to, not Bruce. Facts. Only facts.
“We were taken.” Tim said.
Facts.
Just facts.
No emotions.
He’d wasted too much time already, time that Dick might not have.
“We thought it was just a normal ransom kidnapping thing.” Tim said. “We made a bet, wondering how much the idiots would try to extort this time.”
“This time.” Bruce said. “You know the identities of those who took you.”
Tim considered for a long moment. He shook his head.
“They were wearing masks.” Tim said. “No identifying signs of any gangs in particular, just white masks that hid their faces, gloves that hid their hands too. We should have known that they weren’t just ransomers, Bruce, these guys, they were experienced. They knew that Dick could get out of any binds, they took everything away from us.”
Bruce gave the smallest nod of understanding, beckoning for Tim to go on.
“They restrained me too.” Tim said, his wrists aching at the memory. “But then I… Blacked out, I guess.”
A seizure.
It had been a seizure.
Bile raised in Tim’s throat but he forced it down. Facts. He needed to stick to the facts. Even Tim could realise that right now his body wasn’t in a condition that he could be running around all of Gotham in trying to find Dick, he needed to instead confer with Batman about the best course of action, especially if it means they can pinpoint Dick’s location before they even go searching.
“When I woke up,” Tim said. “I was already outside. I was on a, no in a? Whatever, there was a fountain and I was being harassed by some GCPD idiots who wouldn’t leave me alone.”
“According to the reports and uniform footage,” That was all Bruce, not Batman, with that fond tone. “They were just trying to keep you from accidentally drowning.”
Tim’s face burned.
“Not the point.” Tim shot back.
Bruce sobered and Batman was slipping back once again.
“No. It isn’t. Dick is still missing. There are no signs of him in the last nine days and-”
Tim’s heart dropped.
“Nine?” He demanded. “What the hell do you mean by nine days?”
“You were abducted nine days ago.” Batman said.
Tim was already shaking his head.
That didn’t make any sense. He was abducted, sure, but this is Gotham. He was taken and he was restrained more loosely than Dick had been and he must have been able to escape only to have a seizure which led to memory loss about the escape itself, memories that he may or may not ever get back.
“It’s possible that Dick has already escaped and is just laying low.” Batman said.
But that didn’t make any sense either because if Dick had gotten out, he would have already come looking for Tim. He wouldn’t return to Blüdhaven, not without seeing Tim first.
Batman was still speaking but it was nearly impossible for Tim to focus back on what the words he was saying actually meant. He raised his hand, stomach turning, and Batman stopped. It was Bruce, not Batman, who shifted his weight and it was only then that Tim realised that he was still half standing half sitting on the chair beside the bed.
A whine forced itself out of Tim’s throat and Bruce’s weight shifted again until he was perched on the side of the bed.
Bruce opened up his arms and while Tim knew that he should force the conversation back onto finding Dick as soon as possible, he couldn’t fight against the need to lean hard against Bruce’s warmth.
When Tim shuddered, Bruce leaned down and pecked the top of his head.
“We will find him, Son.” Bruce promised.
“But it’s already been nine days.” Tim croaked. “He would have gotten out by himself by now, he, Bruce he should be here. He should be right here.”
“I know.”
“This is all my fault.”
“No.”
“If I’d just been able to fight against it, if I’d been stronger, I could have gotten him out.”
“Tim, I’m sure that you did everything that you could have in the mental states that you were in.”
Tim shoved Bruce away, his anger flaring because Bruce just acknowledged that Tim is so fucked in the head that he couldn’t keep his brother safe.
“Easy, Tim.”
“No.” Tim snapped. “We were in Old Gotham when we were taken, I’ll start my investigation there and-”
When Tim tried to rise once more, the world whited out and his ears rang. For a moment he was utterly terrified that he was going to slip into another seizure but he didn’t, regaining full awareness within just a few seconds.
Once again Tim was gripping onto Bruce but this time it was on his arm, Tim’s nails digging in as if it was the only lifeline that had kept him conscious at all.
“You need to go easy on yourself.” Bruce said. “You’ve experience several significant episodes, not to mention anything you might have gone through after you were taken.”
“We were in Old Gotham.” Tim said again. “I can find him. I have to find him.”
“The others are already looking for Dick.”
“You didn’t even know that he was missing.” Tim accused.
Except Bruce had known, Tim had just been so out of it that Bruce hadn’t wanted to bring up Dick’s absence before Tim himself acknowledged it as if to protect him from the terrible knowledge that he might have very well left Dick to die.
“Knowing that you were abducted in Old Gotham is helpful.” Bruce said.
The absolute fucking bastard of a man had known Dick was gone.
Tim’s fury petered out just as quickly as it had risen, exhaustion replacing all else. Every blink was more difficult to come back from and it was taking all of his focus not to just curl into Bruce’s chest and cry himself to sleep.
“I need to find him, Bruce.”
“We will find him.” Bruce said.
“Alive.” Tim said, his breath catching at the mere alternative.
“We will find him.” Bruce repeated.
New tears really did roll down Tim’s face then because Dick wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for Tim. He raised his head once more, trying his best to meet Bruce’s eye.
“Nine days.” Tim said.
“Yes.”
“I… I haven’t had my medication in nine days.”
“No.” Bruce said simply.
“That’s why I feel like this. Why everything is… Wrong.”
Bruce’s answer was a curt nod this time but it did nothing to quell the rising nausea.
“I can’t go off it.” Tim said. “Ever. I’m stuck taking these stupid meds for the rest of my life.”
“Rest, Tim. Trust them to find Dick.”
Tim wanted to refuse, he needed to go out there and find Dick for himself but his head really was spinning now and his body ached.
He needed to sleep but Dick needed to be the priority.
“Rest.” Bruce said again. “It’s been a few hours since you’ve had seizure activity but there’s no way of knowing just how many you had in the last several days.”
“On account of being held captive.” Tim seethed. “With Dick.”
“Rest.” Bruce said firmly.
Tim flipped around on the bed, crossing his arms tightly if only to try to focus on anything other than the way that his vision had pulsed white again.
Then, still facing away from Bruce, Tim spoke again.
“You should go with them.”
“I am needed here.” Bruce said.
“No. I’m fine. I, I swear, I’m fine now. The meds are working, I’ll… I’ll be okay here. You should go, find Dick and make sure he’s okay.”
“I am needed here.” Bruce repeated.
Tim’s eyes burned hot as the shame came over him fully. As much as he knew that Dick needed Bruce now more than ever before, some fucked up part of him was relieved that Bruce wasn’t so easily convinced to leave. Everyone in Tim’s life has always left, everyone but Bruce, but right now Bruce did need to leave.
Readjusting again, ignoring the ache in his muscles, Tim sat fully up and looked Bruce straight in the eye.
“Go, Bruce.” Tim said firmly.
“Tim,”
“If you need someone to watch over me so that you can focus on Dick, we can call my Mom.”
As quickly as Bruce had taken control over his expression once more, Tim had still seen the split second where Bruce had looked genuinely surprised.
“Tim,” Bruce said. “Are you sure you want Janet to be with you? I understand that things are still… Complicated, between the two of you.”
Complicated was certainly one word for what was between Tim and the person who had essentially walked away from him for months at a time, supposedly leaving him in the care of experienced employees while actually not giving a damn if any one of them actually had the ability to give him the care and attention that he actually needed, but right now he needed to put aside all of that for Dick’s sake.
“She’s been attending every session.” Tim said, more confident than he actually felt. “Both for parenting classes and therapy.”
“Yes,” Bruce allowed. “But you are the one who wanted there to always be someone else present during visitations.”
“I take it I won’t be discharged until a full twenty four hours have passed since an episode?”
Bruce did not answer, but then again he did not need to.
“There will always be someone else close by then, either nurses or doctors and there’s even social workers here.”
Social workers that Tim absolutely hated, not so much for what they do but the fact that he knew each of them by name. Doctors and nurses too, in much the same fashion, who he would much rather never see again because he’s already spent far too many hours within these walls for a thousand life times over.
“I’ll be okay, Bruce.” Tim said. “But right now, Dick needs you the most.”
Bruce curled his fists. Uncurled them, his shoulders dropping. As worried as Bruce was about Tim’s condition, especially given how many seizures he must have had in a very short amount of time, he was very clearly desperate to make sure that his eldest Son was also safe.
“And besides,” Tim said, making himself yawn widely. “I’m very tired, I will probably just be sleeping the entire time it would take to find him. So, please? Go?”
Tim had known that he had won the moment that Bruce leant forward and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
It was still another half hour before Bruce was able organise getting Janet Drake here, Bruce had apparently advised her very firmly about not visiting the hospital before Tim himself could ask for her presence and Tim tried not to think about it all too deeply as he waited, his skin itching not so much because she was coming but more so because every second that passed was a second that Dick could be hurt or killed.
By the time that Janet had actually arrived, hesitating by the doorway as if his mere presence in this hospital again disgusted her, Tim had very almost been genuinely asleep again after all. He humoured her stilted questions about his current state of health, he even leant into her hug which for a single moment made him forget all else because his Mom was hugging him, really truely hugging him, he did everything he needed to do.
Tim even waited a little longer until Bruce would for certain be a considerable distance away from Gotham General before Tim politely asked Janet if she could get him some water, he much preferred when it was slightly cooled but the jug in the room had long since become room temperature.
The moment that Janet was out in the hallway going towards the nurses station, Tim was going in the opposite direction, carefully evading each worker that would know for certain that he was not allowed to be out of his room for any reason without supervision. The rule wasn’t because of his epilepsy as much as it was a rule for Tim in particular given his propensity for escaping hospitals, a propensity that he was very much leaning into as he took three steps at a time, already pulling on a sweater that he’d swiped from the back of a chair on the way.
Tim’s legs were damn well shaking by the time he got out into the not very clean open air of Gotham, but he kept moving all the same.
He couldn’t quite remember everything that had happened during and after his abduction but he went through every piece of information he did have as he power walked through the city, narrowing down where he would need to search for Dick as he went.
A loud horn of a car made his head spin but he just shoved his hands deep into the stolen jacket, digging his nails into the palms of his hands to keep his mind from slipping away.
Tim ignored the way that security cameras shifted to follow him, briefly flipping off the closest camera that Barbara was no doubt watching through. She wouldn’t alert Bruce that he’d started looking for Dick too, not yet, not when she too knew that he was the one that had the highest chance of finding him.
Instead of going to the seedier sides of Gotham, he found himself instead at some of the richer areas. The people who had taken Dick and Tim had been experienced, hired hands most likely but skilled enough to be able to get richer clientele to pay for their services.
It hadn’t been just an outright hit, or a ransom, but when Tim tried to work out what exactly had happened before he had managed to escape his memories grew too fuzzy to work out any possible motives if not for extortion.
A shadow passed over Tim from high above but Tim didn’t panic, knowing instantly that it was Red Hood and not Batman.
Good, Tim would have back up. Like Barbara, Jason could put aside any rules about contacting Bruce the moment he had information if it would mean getting to Dick faster.
Tim needed to brace himself against a bench for just a moment, maybe three at a stretch, before he was able to force himself onwards. Even with the medications that were no doubt coursing through Tim’s body, the strain that he was putting it through would surely be enough to cause an episode but he shoved aside the tingling in his fingers and just simply walked faster.
He could have a seizure later, saving Dick came first and foremost.
Tim was certain that it was going to fuck him up even worse later but Timothy Jackson Drake knew full well how to run on spite so much so that his own body could put aside it’s stupid shit for long enough that he could do what he needed to do.
His entire right hand wasn’t listening to him by the time that Tim had reached what he could only assume was the right place but he didn’t need to use it at all because just as Tim reached out to wrap his left arm around the neck of an unsuspecting criminal, a far small body was already in between Tim and his would be victim, Robin already laying the unconscious criminal on the ground before Tim really registered what Robin was doing.
Robin did not waste any time acknowledging Tim’s existence, simply trotting off deeper down into the unassuming building with Tim close at his heel. Red Hood brought up the rear, though he nudged Tim’s shoulder hard in a part glad-you’re-okay-Drakeyboy and part what-the-fuck-do-you-think-you’re-doing-Replacement.
Batman was no doubt privy to what was happening by now but Tim didn’t let himself think about that, instead taking out another criminal with his very much fuzzy left arm while Robin took out two guys on the right.
When Tim tried to take another step forward, he staggered.
A hand gripped hard onto his left arm, hoisting him up.
“Let us handle it, Kid.” Red Hood grunted.
Tim elbowed him but Red Hood didn’t so much as make an exhale, instead holding the arm more tightly.
“I’m serious.” Hood said. “This is the right place, but you gotta get the fuck out of here, you look like shit.”
“I’m not the one who looks like shit, Red Helmet Guy.” Tim said. “You know, those escrima sticks you have don’t really suit the whole look you’ve got going there.”
Tim didn’t care to listen to whatever grumbled response Jason had for him, instead pulling away from him and catching up as quickly as he could to Robin.
Robin was already working on picking a lock to a metal door that had Tim rocking forward with a gasp because he knew that door, he had been shoved through that doorway half conscious after he’d been jumped and drugged, he had seen that door as it slammed closed and trapped him and and and-
And Tim forced himself to breathe.
The memories of that day wasn’t what Tim needed right now, what he needed to do was focus. As the lock at last fell open, Tim pushed past Robin before Robin could even stand, ready for whatever it was that lay beyond that door except Tim hadn’t been ready.
Dick Grayson hung limp against a wall by his wrists, his feet barely even touching the ground. His eyes were bruised, both from blows he had been unable to fight against but also from pure exhaustion.
Nine days.
It had been nine days that Dick had been in this building, if not in this room alone.
Bile creeped up in Tim’s throat because Tim had been in this room too, not just for a few hours like he had first thought but an endless eternity. He’d struggled against the shackles that kept him upright, he’d struggled against the fuzziness that was steadily growing the longer he was without his daily medications.
Red Hood’s hand was once again on Tim, this time on his elbow, but Tim couldn’t bear the thought of forcing him away again.
“He…” Tim croaked. “He’s not…”
Tim wanted to scream as Robin had to go up to the tips of his toes in order to press two fingers against their big brother’s neck.
A groan escaped Tim’s chest except that hadn’t been Tim, it had been Dick. Dick was alive, he was alive and his beautiful eyes were cracking open and he was okay, he was going to be okay.
Tim surged forward but his legs couldn’t support his weight and all that had kept him from crashing to the ground as they had two days ago was Jason.
“Easy,” Jason said, to Dick as much as to Tim.
Dick’s eyes, those glazed eyes, blinked slowly. His head raised, if only by a little, but it was as if he couldn’t actually see any one of them even as Damian was already trying his best to free him.
“You have…” Dick’s voice was rough from disuse. “You have to let him go.”
“Hold still, Richard.” Damian said.
Even as Damian said it though, it was clear that Dick didn’t even have the strength to hold himself up let alone make it harder for Damian to work on the locks.
“You have to let him go,” Dick said again, listless. “He has epilepsy. You can’t… You can’t keep him here. It… It could kill him. You have to let him go.”
Maybe Tim really did scream then because his heart hurt knowing that even in Dick’s condition, Dick was more worried about Tim than himself.
“I’m okay.” Tim said. “And you’re going to be okay too.”
“Okay.” Dick mumbled. “Okay… Okay?”
“It’s going to be okay.” Tim said.
When Tim went to help Damian, his fingers refused to listen to him. Instead Jason nudged him, and Damian much to Damian’s fury, out of the way.
“We’re here, Dickiebird.” Jason said.
“We’re here.” Dick echoed. “We’re all here…”
Tim’s head was spinning and his fingers were trembling but still the moment that Dick’s body was dropping down from the wall, Tim was right there to support him. Wrapping one of Dick’s arms around Tim’s shoulders, Tim placed a hand on Dick’s chest, keeping him upright.
Dick had been there, Tim remembered now, during that first seizure days ago. He’d screamed at their captors to let them go, or demanded that at the very least they needed to give Tim his medication.
Dick had been there too when Tim had woken up again, now on the hard ground instead of suspended against the wall.
One of the monsters that had taken them had done the smallest mercy of undoing Tim’s cuffs, Dick having warned them that in a seizure Tim’s bones could very well break if he was left hanging like that.
It had been Dick too that had screamed at Tim to run the moment he’d regained consciousness and still in the haze that came over him after episodes, Tim’s body had moved on it’s own accord and had run.
He had run, leaving his brother here to die.
Tim did not let the shame take hold this time, focusing solely on helping Dick take a step, then another.
Batman was by the doorway, his fists clenched tightly.
When Dick’s legs buckled, Batman was surging forward and all at once the weight was gone from Tim’s shoulder, Batman instead being the one to be fully carrying Dick.
“You’re okay, now.” Batman said.
It was to Dick, but it was to Tim too.
And he was okay.
They were okay.
They were a family and now they were together once more and even though Tim knew that another seizure would steal away his ability to move, to think, to process, soon, he also knew that he was safe.
They were both safe.