Work Text:
“Don’t move.”
Dick had said it lightly, teasing, leaving Tim alone only so that he could go get the popcorn. It wasn’t like Tim had much choice about it anyway, they both knew full well that Tim’s fever would prevent him from standing even if he wanted to, so he just sagged back down onto the couch and let his big brother look after him.
“Don’t move.”
Nightwing had barked. It was an order, not a suggestion, one that Robin would have no choice about following. There was danger that had to be avoided, danger that Nightwing alone was to handle. Robin trusted Nightwing unconditionally, even if he was certain that he could help Nightwing in the fight, even if he could be doing more if only Nightwing trusted him.
“Don’t move.”
A whisper, a plead. Dick’s fingers were carding through Tim’s hair as Tim trembled, the bullet lodged deep in his chest. It’s not like Tim had much of a choice anyway, the pain had been building steadily, the adrenaline draining from him alongside the blood that was pooling around them. He couldn’t sit up, even though he wanted to.
“Help is coming, okay Timmy? Just… Don’t move.”
“Dick, I-“
“Shh… Don’t speak. It’s okay, you’re okay.”
Tim’s chest stuttered, his lungs screaming for air. He tried to raise a hand but Dick gripped it, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.
“You’re okay, just stay with me.”
The tiles were hard beneath him and Tim wondered hazily if Earl, the barista who never once questioned just how many shots of coffee he wanted, was ever going to forgive him for how much mess he had made. Honestly, blood all over the floor and a shattered coffee mug to boot? Tim was going to have to tip him extra.
Tim jolted, the pressure on his wound shifting as Jason pressed down harder.
“Ja… Jay…” Tim croaked.
“Shut it, Drake.” Jason snapped back. “You heard Dickhead, you need to stay still.”
Logically, Tim understood. The shot had been to his chest and while by some miracle it hadn’t hit his heart, it could have very well hit his spine. Given that Dick and Jason had already gone through seeing Barbara have a severe spinal injury from a gunshot, they weren’t going to take any chances even if at this point he could very much feel his legs because it was like they were burning like all hell.
He needed to stay still but everything hurt so much and Tim just wanted to curl up into a ball. He tried to do just that but Dick tutted, refocusing Tim by running fingers through his hair again.
“That’s it Tim, just breathe Bud.”
Breathing would be a lot easier without a bullet to the chest but Tim didn’t want to say anything less he incur both of his older brothers wraths. He just lay there dutifully, his whole body trembling as the pain stubbornly continued to rise. Tim whimpered, eyes burning. At least if he had been in his uniform, he would have had some reinforcement but given that they had been in their civvie clothes, Tim’s chest had no such protection.
A part of him didn’t even mind this so much, this was one of the rare times all three of them were free to catch up during the day and while it hurt like hell it was nice to have Jason and Dick there with him. Let’s give a big yay to Tim’s mental state and attachment to his brothers with the thought that he didn’t mind being shot as long as they were here with him.
Tim shuddered, a cough bubbling deep in his very soul.
“Breathe, Timmy,” Dick said gently.
“Fuck!” Jason growled and Tim flinched just from the sound. “Sorry! Fucking hell Drake, it just, it won’t stop bleeding.”
Jason pressed his jacket ever harder against Tim’s chest and his vision pulsed white. He kicked his legs out, unable to keep still, every breath he tried to take catching. He coughed, hard, and his chest spasmed and the pain skyrocketed. Tim didn’t even know if he had started screaming or not, all he knew was that it was becoming too much.
“I don’t…” Tim gasped. “I don’t want to die.”
“You’re not going to Timmy,” Dick vowed. “You just wanted to show us up right? Just wanted to be the centre of attention for a while?”
“Yeah,” Jason forced a laugh. “This is a bit of overkill don’t you think? You could’a just set something on fire or whatever and Wayne would be just as attentive to you, Dickie Boy too.”
When Tim looked up, he found that Dick didn’t meet his eye, focus solely on the news cast playing on the TV. Tim tried to see what was so interesting but his eyes simply wouldn’t focus on it. Then all at once Dick rose up from the ground and Tim whined, reaching out for his brother but he was already gone.
“Easy there Drake,” Jason huffed. “Don’t move, remember?”
“What… What’s happening?”
Tim held back a cough, painful shudders taking over his entire chest and body.
“Taking care of some idiots.” Jason said.
Tim blinked back the tears, trying again to see what was so interesting on the television. It was the news, hosted outside of a coffee shop. This coffee shop. As Tim watched, Dick appeared next to the news caster, shouting something that Tim barely registered. The feed cut off, returning to the studio and all at once Dick was beside him again, familiar fingers carding through his hair.
Tim’s tears flowed freely now, hating that he had ever thought that Dick would abandon him.
“Hey hey,” Dick mumbled. “You’re okay.”
Dick cupped Tim’s cheek and brushed away a tear. Tim lent into the touch, holding back a sob.
The pain was impossibly getting worse. It was like his soul itself was burning, his body alongside it. He should have probably passed out by now, it might have been easier, but the thought of closing his eyes and never opening them again utterly terrified him.
“Dick,” Jason said sharply.
Tim didn’t know why Jason sounded so worried, too busy trying to take in a deep breath. Nothing came out but a whistle, Tim’s throat feeling like it was closing.
“Shit.” Dick whispered. “He’s choking on his own blood. We gotta get him on his side.”
“I thought you said he can’t be moved!”
Tim didn’t see Dick’s expression but it must have convinced Jason because all of a sudden Tim was being shifted onto his side and he was sure as hell screaming now. The pain just kept exploding within him, over and over, even as blood poured from his mouth.
Tim panicked, realising what was happening. He tried to scramble away from the blood but two sets of hands kept him steady, one pair holding his head to keep his neck straight while the others kept his shoulders and hips in line.
He coughed strongly, new pain rocking through him and Tim brought up even more blood. His head was spinning, eyes barely registering anything but blurs around him. All that existed was the pain.
“Hold on Timmy,” A voice echoed. “Just a little longer.”
He tried. He really did. Tim didn’t want to worry his brothers, he wanted nothing more than to prove to them that he was okay. But the pain was still climbing and the blood was still choking him and he just wanted all of this to stop.
Tim couldn’t breathe, not really. Coughing did nothing but make the pain spike and every blink made his surrounds fade just a little more.
“No no no,” The other voice barked. “Don’t you fucking dare Drake.”
There were sirens echoing alongside the voices but they may as well be a million miles away and Tim vaguely remembered that he wasn’t meant to be moving so he stopped moving all together.
If Jason didn’t stop pacing soon, he might very well burn holes into the ground.
Then again, Dick wasn’t much better; his fists were clenched so tightly his nails had drawn blood. As soon as he realised, he released them, wiping the blood away on his jeans. No, not jeans. Dick had been given a pair of scrubs to borrow, his own clothes stained with blood.
Tim’s blood.
Somehow the fact that this had happened to Tim Drake and not Robin made it all the worse even though Dick knew full well that they were one and the same. Robin was an ally but Tim Drake was a brother.
A brother who was dying because Dick hadn’t noticed the gunman until it was too late.
It was so stupid, an attack in broad daylight in a fucking coffee shop of all places. Jason had tackled the gunman as soon as the shot had gone off but the bullet had already hit its mark and Tim had already been falling by the time Dick noticed he had been hit. Despite all of his training, Dick had panicked, scrambling to comfort Tim without ever once thinking to put pressure on his wound until suddenly Jason was by their side again, pressing his jacket hard into Tim’s chest.
Dick raised a shaking hand to his mouth. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his heart racing as his mind replayed over and over the gunshot, the blood, the broken sobs.
There were footsteps, different from Jason’s, and Dick launched up out of his chair, desperate for news. It was only Bruce, his expression tight.
“What’s the latest?” He said in the form of a greeting.
Jason whirled on him, eyes flashing.
“There is none.” He snarled. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“Jay,” Dick said. “Just… Don’t.”
For a moment Jason looked as if he might punch Bruce square in the face but then he just twisted sharply, returning to his pacing as if he were a caged lion desperate for freedom. Dick in turn sank back onto his chair, scrubbing his face.
“Dick,” Bruce said, stepping closer.
“He’s in surgery.” Dick said, forcing his voice to remain steady. “That’s all we know. It was bad, B. Real bad. He…”
Dick had to clear his throat again, his heart pounding in his ears.
“He might not make it.”
Bruce’s fists clenched tightly but otherwise his expression eased to that of a practiced socialite who wasn’t allowed to express fear or worry or even sadness. Dick tried not to blame him, Bruce had his own coping mechanisms for situations like this, but with his own world spinning around him and his brother so close yet so far away, Dick found Bruce’s calm expression to be infuriating.
“Don’t worry B,” Dick said lightly. “You’ll find another one soon enough.”
“Dick.” Bruce warned.
“I mean, fourth time’s a charm right?”
Dick knew that he was being unfair but it was either this or he was going to lose his goddamn mind.
“Master Richard Grayson,” A voice said lowly.
Dick’s spine straightened, his eyes blowing wide.
“Alfred,” Dick’s squeaked. “I, uh,”
“It’s okay, Alfred.” Bruce said. “Dick is just upset.”
Alfred tutted, apparently not impressed with Bruce’s attitude either. Bruce’s shoulders dipped and he sighed deeply.
“We all are.” Bruce amended.
“I imagine so,” Alfred said. “But antagonising each other is no way to handle this situation.”
Jason rolled his eyes but when Alfred looked right at him, even Jason knew to back down. He sank down onto the chair beside Dick, knocking Dick’s leg gently as if to assure him that at least they were together.
Bruce sat on Dick’s other side, keeping one space between them. Dick tried not to notice but a part of him just wanted to reach out and hug his Dad. Alfred had turned his attention on Bruce now, raising a single brow.
It was Bruce’s turn to clear his throat. He shuffled over so that he was right next to Dick.
“Much better.” Alfred declared. “Now, I have spoken with the doctors. The bullet missed his spinal column but barely. You boys did well to maintain spinal protocols, especially in notifying the attending paramedics, though those very same paramedics weren’t exactly impressed with some of the things Master Jason said about how quickly they were driving.”
“Oh please,” Jason huffed. “It would have been faster to just carry him here.”
“All the same,” Alfred said. “Master Timothy’s surgery will soon be over and once it is he will be moved into recovery. I have already assured the hospital that Wayne Industries will sponsor them greatly however they remained strict on the rule of only one person can visit Master Timothy in recovery. Once he is on the normal ward, there will be no limit.”
Dick’s fists were curled again. Jason nudged his knee and Dick released them, forcing himself to breathe. Just one visitor at a time was manageable, even if it sucked. What mattered was Tim was going to be okay.
“There is one more thing.”
Dick’s heart stopped, his eyes boring into Alfred.
“I was able to contact the news broadcasters that were reporting that a ward of Bruce Wayne was critically injured. They have deleted all the footage they recorded however there must have been other people filming also.”
“It’s everywhere, isn’t it?” Dick mumbled.
“I’m afraid so.” Alfred said. “Miss Gordon is working to contain it but I would suggest avoiding social media for the foreseeable future. Most importantly, I believe it wise to not let Master Timothy become aware that videos of his injury have been widely spread.”
Because not only did Tim have to go through so much pain and trauma but every single person online wanted a piece of it. Dick felt sick at the thought, his little brother’s screams being passed around as the newest exciting thing.
Dick scrubbed his face, suddenly exhausted. He wasn’t even sure how long they had been waiting here now, never once looking at his phone except for the original call to the manor when they were in the ambulance. Otherwise, he would have already known about the videos and he probably worked out a way to track every single one of them down to destroy even if the internet is supposedly forever.
“Family of Tim Drake?”
Dick shot up off his chair, Jason hot on his heels while Bruce had so slowly risen.
The nurse for their part barely stepped back as Dick and Jason crowded them, Alfred dutifully listening in from a distance.
“Is he okay?” Dick asked. “Can we see him?”
“He’s out of surgery. It’ll still be a while before he wakes up fully but as discussed one visitors can be with him at any given time while Tim is on the Recovery ward. Have you decided who it will be?”
Dick glanced at Jason, fully willing to let his brother see Tim first but Jason was already gesturing for Dick to go first. Bruce had stiffened behind them but he did not interrupt. They all knew that Dick had a special connection with Tim, even if it was that very same connection that made it feel like Dick’s heart had been ripped out of his chest to remember his brother lying there on that floor.
With a reassuring nod from Alfred, Dick followed the nurse through the winding hallways. There were curtained off bays in the recovery ward, making it so that doctors and nurses could easily tend to each patient while allowing them some privacy.
Dick’s nails were digging into the palms of his hands again. Tim had only recently been taken out of surgery, he was going to be unconscious for a few hours at least and all of a sudden Dick couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him so vulnerable again. Jason should have gone first, or even better Bruce.
Dick couldn’t do this, not again. He had seen too many loved ones unconscious on hospital beds, Tim already included in that list. Dick wasn’t ready, not really. But the nurse was already opening the curtain and all of a sudden Tim was right there in front of him, looking so small on that hospital bed.
Tim’s chest was heavily bandaged, various wires and tubes connected to him. He was pale, blending in with the sheets, a bag of blood hanging up beside him. Worst of all of it was how even in sleep Tim was trembling, brow knitted. He may have survived surgery but he was still hurting, every uneven breath misting up the oxygen mask fixed on his face.
Tim was a mess but Dick was even more of a mess, his legs feeling like jelly beneath him. The nurse was saying something but all Dick could hear was the whirls and beeps of all the machines attached to his little brother. The machines that were claiming he was still alive despite how pale he was.
Each step Dick took was jolting, his body moving on autopilot. A part of him wanted to curse himself, he was a gymnast that could do incredible flips from standing and yet now he couldn’t even walk a few feet, while the rest of him focused on just how small Tim was.
Then Dick was carding fingers through Tim’s hair like he did just a few hours ago.
Dark eyes cracked open and Dick felt his heart drop. He shouldn’t be awake, not yet. Tim’s eyes were unable to focus, already glistening with tears, but the fact that they were open so soon at all should have been a relief and yet it just made Dick all the more worried.
“Hey there,” Dick soothed.
Tim opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a gasp.
“Just relax,” Dick said. “You’re safe now.”
A shaking hand tried to go for the oxygen mask on his face but Dick held it instead, squeezing it tightly.
“You need it. Just for a little while longer.”
Tim gave off a whimper, body readjusting. Given how quickly he had woken from anaesthesia, Dick doubted that whatever pain medications they were giving him hadn’t been enough either. He needed to tell a nurse, there was absolutely no way Dick was going to let Tim suffer like this.
“I’ll be right back, okay?”
Tim panicked, giving off a sob as Dick pulled away from him.
“Hey, hey,” Dick said, instantly by his side once more. “It’s okay, I’m not leaving you, I promise. I’m just going to talk to the doctors.”
Tim shook his head, the tears flowing freely now. Whatever he was trying to say just came off as a pained moan, his chest stuttering even with the supplemental oxygen. He was in agony, Dick realised. This wasn’t just some breakthrough pain, whatever he was on wasn’t working at all.
The hand not in Dick’s own twitched, slowly moving up to the IV’s connected to the crook of his arm.
“Timmy, don’t!”
Tim sobbed as Dick barely kept him from ripping out his IV’s, his legs kicking out weakly. Even with the little strength he had, Tim was struggling against Dick’s hold, desperate to rid himself of all the machines and tubes.
“Shh, don’t move, it’s okay, don’t move…”
His struggles were getting stronger, body working through the last of the anaesthesia somehow.
“I need a nurse in here!” Dick called.
At the thought of a nurse, Tim only panicked more, tugging away from Dick as hard as he could. Realising that he was close to breaking Tim’s wrist, Dick let go, hoping to readjust his hold. A split second was all it took for Tim to grip onto the IV that was supplying Tim blood and supposedly pain medications, tearing it from his skin.
Tim roared in pain then, throwing himself back hard onto the bed as blood poured down his arm.
Dick rushed to put pressure on it, hoping that in his struggles he wasn’t going to pull open the stitches on his chest. Nurses finally surrounded them, holding Tim to the bed while one scrambled to attach fabric cuffs to either side of the bed. Tim’s hand was grabbed and he lashed out, hitting the nurse back.
“He needs meds, not restraints!” Dick snapped.
“The patient has requested no pain medications to be used.” Someone said.
“What?”
Tim screamed again, thrashing on the bed. One of the monitors dislodged from his chest, the machine alerting to his apparent lack of a heart beat as he screamed again and again.
“He made it very clear,” The nurse said, trying to secure Tim’s arm once more.
“What the fuck is wrong with you people? He got shot in the chest! Of course he needs pain meds.”
“I’m afraid we can’t go against the signed consent form.” The nurse said. “Trust me, I want to stop his pain as much as you do but he made his decision clear before surgery.”
“Before- He was in no state of mind to make a decision like that!” Dick fumed.
There were tears streaming down Tim’s face, even as his struggles lessened. It wasn’t that the pain was going down, no new medications running through the one remaining line that was still connected to his blood stream, but simply that he was losing strength. Tim whimpered, tugging at his wrists that had at last been restrained to the bed.
“This isn’t over.” Dick declared.
“Our hands are tied. The patient made it very clear that no pain medications were to be used.”
“Medical consent has to be given while fully aware of the consequences right?” Dick said, trying to keep the desperation from his voice. “If he was already bleeding out like that, he wouldn’t possibly understand what was going on. Doesn’t that mean anything he signed is null and void?”
There had been a meeting called between the hospital’s ethics committee and the whole family, Jason was already pacing again while Bruce’s fists were clenched beneath the table, otherwise the form of a perfect businessman. Alfred was still reading over the consent form, even though he had already looked at it a dozen times, looking for any possible discrepancies.
“It wasn’t just this form that Timothy Drake made his stance clear.” A woman, Dr. Mallory, said. “There was an advanced directive already put in place six months ago should he be hospitalised.”
“He’s a minor.” Dick rebuked.
“An emancipated minor.” Dr. Mallory said. “While Timothy is a ward of Bruce Wayne, medical decisions are to be made by Timothy alone.”
Dick twisted sharply towards Bruce.
“Is that true?” Dick demanded.
“Tim is my ward, same as you,” Bruce said lowly.
“So you’re his proxy. You say he can have drugs and voila, he’ll be fine!”
Dick knew that pain medication alone wasn’t going to fix this immediately but it would certainly be a start in his recovery. There was no way that he was going to heal while he was shuddering in pain like that.
“It’s not that simple Dick.” Bruce said. “Since his father was still alive during the custody switch, it was agreed that Tim was to make his own decisions. Including, apparently, that he is not to be given unnecessary medications.”
Jason’s pacing had at last stilled, listening carefully. Dick ignored him, focusing solely on the matter at hand.
“Given that he was literally screaming at the pain and had to be fucking restrained, I’m pretty sure pain meds are necessary at this point.”
“Dick.” Bruce warned.
“You didn’t see him, B,” Dick shot back. “He…”
Dick swallowed the lump in his throat, commanding his hands to stop shaking. They didn’t.
“He’s not okay.”
Jason stalked over to the last remaining chair, throwing himself onto it.
“If Drake said no drugs,” Jason snarled. “Then no drugs.”
Before Dick could say anything, Jason slammed a fist on the table.
“He made a choice.” Jason said through gritted teeth.
“He wouldn’t have chosen if he knew how much it was going to hurt. You can’t possibly think that any of this is okay! Tim could go into shock, hell his heart could give out if it gets too bad. He was shot, Jay, he needs the meds.”
“I’ve been shot before without meds.” Jason said.
Dr. Mallory glanced at her colleagues but Jason ignored them.
“And yeah, it fucking sucks. But this was Drake’s decision.”
Alfred cleared his throat and even Jason went quiet to let the butler say his peace.
“I agree with Master Jason’s view,” Alfred said. “However, Master Richard does have a point. A body under too much stress can fail. According to this consent form, the power of attorney can be shifted to someone else if it is deemed that it is in Master Timothy’s best interests.”
“So, what,” Jason scoffed. “You’re the one who gets to decide giving him meds he doesn’t want is in his best interest?”
“I did not say that it is a decision to be taken lightly.” Alfred said. “It should be agreed upon as a majority. Master Dick has made his view very clear, as has Master Jason. There is one vote for the medical decisions made by Master Timothy to be upheld and one vote for him to be given the necessary medications to limit his pain levels and increase his likelihood of recovery. Master Bruce?”
Bruce shifted in his chair, so minutely that Dick doubted the committee even noticed it. His throat bobbed too, the only obvious sign of just how upset he was. Dick looked to his father then, silently pleading for him to understand just how much Tim needed him to make the right choice.
“My son,” Bruce choked on the word and Dick knew full well that it was not out of disgust but out of genuine concern. “Should be given the best medical care available. If that includes medications… I believe he should receive them.”
Jason swore, pushing away from the table and restarting his pacing.
“That is two to one,” Alfred said. “As such, it-“
“No,” Jason snapped. “You’re part of this family too, Old Man. If we have to do this, you get a vote too.”
“Very well then.” Alfred sighed deeply, setting aside the data pad. “If it were only to be Master Timothy’s wishes said just before surgery being taken into account, I would fully agree that he was not of a sound mind and as such could not give consent. However, there was also an advanced directive put into place. We should honour it.”
“Two to two.” Jason whistled. “Now what, dipshits?”
Dick looked to the committee of doctors.
“You have the deciding vote.” He said. “The first rule is do no harm right? You can’t just let a patient suffer when they don’t have to.”
It was Dr. Mallory’s turn to sigh. She turned to her colleagues, rechecking Tim’s charts and test results, weighing up the two options while Tim was no doubt still screaming in pain just a floor below them. Dick’s nails were digging into the palm of his hands again. They were wasting time, time that Tim might not have.
Tim woke slowly, hearing a familiar laugh. It was loud and boisterous but most of all it was warm. Tim had always loved Jason’s laugh. Tim hadn’t heard the set up to the joke, at least he didn’t remember hearing it, but he wanted to know what was so amusing.
“Am I missing something?” Tim croaked.
Dick twisted sharply, fussing over him like he was some kid. Tim found that he didn’t mind so much, leaning into the touch and humming when Dick pressed a kiss on his temple.
“Yeah,” Jason said. “A spleen. Just when the hell were you going to tell us?”
Tim’s hoped his thin smile was answer enough and given Jason’s bark of laughter, it was. He tried to sit up but Dick set a hand on his shoulder, keeping him still.
“Don’t move,” Dick said. “Missing spleens aside, you’re still recovering from surgery.”
Tim blinked slowly. A hand rose up to his chest, finding the bandages. He saw the cannula in his hand and he followed the tubing up to the IV pole, finding a bag of blood alongside two bags of fluid. Tim swallowed roughly, a monitor that Tim hadn’t noticed now alerting the increase in his heart rate.
“Hey hey,” Dick said, carding fingers through his hair. “You’re okay. Deep breathes now Timmy, you’re okay.”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
“Tim, everything’s-“
“It doesn’t hurt.” Tim’s voice was shaking but he couldn’t stop it. “I said no drugs.”
“I know Bud, but it was too much for you.”
“You?” Tim croaked. “You did this?”
Dick faltered for an answer but then Tim saw Jason’s tightly crossed arms. Tim knew that expression. Whatever had happened, Jason was absolutely pissed with Dick despite how they had been joking just a few minutes earlier.
“Get out.” Tim whispered.
“Tim,” Dick tried.
“I said get out.”
When Dick stubbornly stayed by Tim’s bedside, Tim’s attention turned back to Jason, pleading him to help. Jason gritted his teeth but he nodded, grabbing Dick’s arm. Dick shoved him off, refusing to leave, but Jason just gripped his arm harder and pulled him away from Tim and the room, ignoring Dick’s demands to let him go.
Tim let himself fall fully back onto the bed, the tears flowing freely. It felt stupid, being in so much pain just because he wasn’t actually feeling any pain at all. Tim didn’t need the physical pain, not really. The memories were enough, memories of when his Father was under the influence.
Memories of how Tim Drake just didn’t exist in the eyes of Jack Drake because his life was perfect without irritating son always asking too many questions, or even memories of the times that Jack was aware of him, laughing with every strike of the belt because those very same drugs made it oh so amusing to hit his own son.
His head was spinning, whatever drugs that were now coursing through Tim’s veins making him feel ill.
Choking back a sob, Tim squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this. The pain was gone, sure, but all of it just felt wrong. He couldn’t even be fully scared, everything feeling too distant to really feel anything.
Tim tried to take off the mask that was suffocating him but he found that his hands couldn’t move. Tim glanced down, seeing the restraints, and he whimpered, tugging at them.
Nothing was hurting and yet he was still being restrained and Tim was now alone too, alone with the ghost of Jack Drake laughing at him.
“See boy, it’s not so bad is it? Just enjoy it, you were never going to amount to anything anyway.”
Tim knew that his father wasn’t there but he might as well be. His own cries quietened and he sagged fully onto the bed. Why fight. Why do anything at all. Even when he had made his own choices, none of it had mattered, not really. Nothing Tim did mattered, Jack had made that very clear to him ever since he was a boy.
All the time since then had been a dream.
“Don’t move.” Dick would say and Tim would listen because whatever he wanted to do instead did not matter.
“Don’t move.” Nightwing would bark and Robin would listen because even if his instincts said otherwise, Nightwing outranked him.
“Don’t move.” Dick had said, completely ignoring how much Tim’s chest had hurt because Dick didn’t care for him, he just hadn’t wanted Tim to make a scene.
Tim had never become anything more than the pathetic boy with a camera. His choices did not matter. He did not matter.
“Drake.” A new voice barked.
Tim twisted away, his wrist pulling against the fabric cuff that bound him.
“This is fucked, I know,” The voice continued. “But I talked to Dickhead. You’ll come off the meds, alright?”
Tim blinked back the tears. He tugged at the restraints again and all of a sudden they were gone and Jason Todd was standing over him. Jason was bleeding, a cut just above his brow.
“Go away…” Tim moaned.
“Not gonna happen Bro,” Jason said. “You’re on some pretty strong stuff, it’s gonna suck to come off them. But that’s what you want, right?”
“What do you care?” Tim demanded, hating that his voice was slurred even to his own ears.
“You signed that thingy, didn’t you? Honestly, it’s all hogwash to me, all this power of attorney shit. But it said that you didn’t want any meds, right?”
Tim found that he couldn’t speak. He just nodded his head, barely feeling the tears streaming down his face.
“Then let’s do this the old fashioned way. It’s gonna take a while for it to go away and when it does, it’s gonna hurt like a bitch. Are you okay with that?”
Another nod, new tears mixing with the old. He held back a sob, unable to contain just how much love he felt for his stupid hunk of a brother.
It was Jason’s turn to nod. He went over to the IV pole, looking confused for a moment even in Tim’s own haze of confusion. Finally working out what was just keeping up Tim’s blood pressure and what was administering medication, he disconnected the correct one.
His hands now free, Tim rose one, gesturing to the blood on Jason’s face.
There was that familiar laugh again and Tim decided he would do anything necessary to keep Jason as Jason.
“Okay so maybe the Dickhead got a hit or two but I swear I won.”
“Did you beat someone up in a hospital?” Tim asked, his chest already starting to ache a little.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Jason shrugged.
Tim readjusted, the weight on his chest refusing to shift. He swallowed roughly, forcing himself to breathe.
“Hey there Drake,” Jason said. “You’re doing good.”
“I just…” Tim winced. “Didn’t think it would… Go away so fast.”
“You got shot in the chest Drakeyboy,” Jason said. “Like I said, it’s gonna hurt like a bitch. You still sure about this?”
Tim considered.
His chest was already shuddering, his breathing not quite even anymore. It was already hurting and it was just going to get worse before it got better. But… Yes. Tim wanted this. He wanted the pain, he wanted to know that he was alive, that he could make a choice for himself and actually be listened to. He wanted to never again hear his fathers voice, touting the praises of the drugs that made everything better at the low low price of your soul.
“Yes.” Tim whispered. “But… Can you stay with me? Please? I don’t…”
Tim swallowed, his chest aching.
“I don’t think I can do this alone.”
“You’re never alone, Master Timothy.”
Tim twisted to the voice, jolting a little as he pulled at his wound. The pain was definitely rising quickly, without the constant stream of medications his body was starting to feel absolutely everything again.
“Alfred.” Tim croaked, feeling new tears burning behind his eyes. “You’re here.”
“Of course I am, my Boy,” Alfred said. “And I believe that Master Bruce and Master Dick both have something to say to you.”
Bruce’s steps were jolting as he came into the room but when Tim reached out to him Bruce swept towards him, gripping onto Tim’s hand. Tim treasured the feeling, knowing he was safe now that his real dad was here.
“Whatever it is,” Tim mumbled, holding back a whimper. “It can wait, can’t it? I don’t want to fight.”
“No more fighting.” Dick vowed, coming to Tim’s other side. “But, when you’re feeling better, we will talk about this because it is important. You are important.”
Tim didn’t know that he had any tears left but they fell anyway. He tried to rise, wanting to hug Dick so damn hard, but Dick gently set him back down, kissing his brow. Tim’s whole body shook from the growing pain but that didn’t matter. His mind was already clearing, his family right there by his side.
“Don’t move Timmy,” Dick whispered. “We’ve got you little brother. You’re going to be just fine.”