Chapter Text
Tim awoke sluggishly with a fog in his head and an unholy stiffness in his joints. It wasn't the first time- nor would it likely be the last, that he had woken from a blackout with no idea where he was or how he had come to be there, but it was no less unnerving each and every time. Despite the natural instinct to panic, he fought to keep his breathing even, his pulse steady, and tried to take stock in his surroundings. But the “room” was stale aired, pitch black, and completely silent. Not even a hum of electricity breaching the walls.
He shifted, satisfied with the knowledge that he was at least temporarily alone, hoping to push himself up with his hands... but his muscles refused to cooperate, and his sternum erupted with fire. A croak of a gasp left his lips, and he squeezed his eyes shut, praying for the sudden onslaught of pain to cease.
Keeping entirely still, he willed his suddenly panicked breathing back to slow, careful movements. It brought the pain down somewhat, reducing it to a throbbing heated ache, if at least for a time. Once his mind cleared to a degree, he remembered- and oh, this would be bad.
He had figured out who had been impersonating Batman. Had suited up because Dick had absolutely refused to, even at the expense of Gotham, which was falling apart at the seams. He had sleuthed his way into the man's den, and oh how Jason had been busy, then brazenly- stupidly challenged him by himself.
He had fought Jason.
Jason had shockingly declared that he had wanted him to be his Robin.
He had declined... and then-
Jason had stabbed him. He hadn't even realized it right away
Then he faintly recalled playing possum, feeling the jagged stone floor scrape and tear at his back as he was dragged, and then…
Darkness.
He drew a blank.
Despite his efforts, he must have legitimately blacked out from the shock of blood loss and trauma to his already exhausted body. Which explained somewhat why his body was so very stiff, why his memory was foggy, the dizziness, and why his stomach was doing flips despite the complete lack of motion. He shifted his arm, sliding his hand slowly up his ribs, reaching towards his center. His fingertips brushed up against gauze and tape covering swollen flesh and he let out a sharp hiss.
The batarang had been old. The suit too, but still sturdy, likely just enough to have really saved him. It hadn't been able to fully crack his chest, or it would have hurt far more to breathe. No, it must have broken some on impact, from the force of the man's rage, and the chest armor's resistance.
He could be sure of little else, given his surroundings. But he was not in the cave, either of them, he could tell that much. Caves came with a certain degree of constant background noise, and their cave always had the low electrical hum reverberating throughout every corner.
Unfortunately, awareness only lasted for so long. Tim did not get the chance to dwell on things much longer, for he drifted back into unconsciousness once again soon after...
x
Tim was not sure how much time had passed since he had last awoke, let alone how long it had been since he had initially been stabbed, but nothing had changed since he was last conscious. He was still in the same spot he had woken in before, alone, able to see nothing but the darkness surrounding him. He tested his limbs once more, gradually shifting them in sections, forcing the stiff muscles to obey him. He was on a mattress, no pillows, no sheets. That much told him that he had not been found by allies, that more than likely Jason had deposited him exactly wherever it is that he was, and the man had left him- alone, for one reason or another. Any potential efforts Dick and Barbara had made to locate him had clearly failed, and yet again he was regretting his decision to confront the man alone. He hadn't been thinking straight. None of them had been.
It hurt far too much to sit up, he failed twice just attempting, and just that brief session felt like he had gone several rounds with Bane. He was utterly drained, weak… the sharp stabbing pains erupting from his chest making it impossible to think straight, and sapping his energy. He had lost a lot of blood, more than he had thought the last time he had woken up. The wound caused by the batarang to his sternum had likely caused a class two hemorrhage, draining him of far too much blood to function, but not enough to make him truly critical. He could be thankful for small miracles he supposed. Better to be lightheaded and void of strength than be dead.
It seemed as though he would not be moving anytime soon however...
He was cold, delirious, riddled with pain, and if he had not been so dehydrated he might have cried. That in itself felt humiliating. It had admittedly been ages since he had been so helpless and unable to care for himself. Truly, he had royally screwed up this time.
x
Tim awoke for the third time laying in the same limp position, the room remained cloaked in the darkest of shadows, and he was still utterly alone. The silence was deafening. The air felt thick, and he couldn't tell if the room he was trapped in was simply getting stuffy, losing oxygen, or if his body was just further rebelling with the panic.
He could not understand this in the slightest. There was absolutely no point to this madness- no purpose to keep him in such conditions, not without some sort of interaction. With the area being pitch black there were clearly no cameras on him, so why leave him alone, unsupervised, and in agony? Surely he was not meant to die like this, otherwise why would Jason have treated his wounds- however minimally, at all?
How long had it even been?
He was parched, hungry, and still oh so very tired- which was not a good sign all things considered. His sense of time was non-existent and his health was certainly not improving, and it was even far more likely that he was on the decline without additional care and nourishment. The bleeding had been stopped, bandages placed, enough for a temporary patch job. But long term? A wound like that would have needed flushing. Stitches. He would have no doubt been given some heavy antibiotics by Alfred. It was hard to evaluate himself when he could hardly move, but he knew things could not have been good..
He tried to cry out several times, perhaps at the very least alert Jason to his returned consciousness, but ultimately only managed a soft croak, nothing that would alert anyone to his distress. He shifted on the mattress, giving a poor attempt at exploring his surroundings as he forced his muscles to move once more, trying to keep his chest steady to avoid further agitation to the tender wound.
This time, he made a discovery that sent his heart racing, and the panic bubbled up in his chest.
His left ankle was cuffed. A wide brace, and judging by the rattle caused by his straining, said restraint had a pretty hefty chain attached.
Tim let out distressed whine, giving a dry sob that was more groan than anything as his throat constricted, and his eyes burned.
Even if he could muster up enough strength to move he was trapped.
He wasn’t going anywhere.
x
Tim had awoken and fallen back asleep several times before anything changed.
He felt ill, nauseous from the lack of sustenance, and the hunger clawed at his stomach. A constant burning ache throbbed in his chest. He was beginning to suspect infection. The wounds on his neck and shoulders, things he had nearly forgotten about, stung sharply, and the entirety of his body was sore from the lack of movement. He was far too warm and could feel the heat seeping into the mattress. Everything felt far too humid.
He had truly begun to believe that he was going to die there in the unbearably silent, dark, stuffy room, alone and abandoned without anyone having the slightest clue as to where he was, himself included. He was even almost ready to welcome it by then.
Until Jason finally returned.
He had been half asleep, dazed, merely focusing on the fact that he was still breathing when the door to his prison had suddenly flown open, spilling too-bright artificial light into the darkness. Tim startled with a frightened yelp and whine as he turned his face away from the blinding white, the rushed motion tugging at his swollen chest. He gave a muffled groan as the burn spread. The door shut tightly once more with a loud metallic thud almost just as quickly, drowning the room in darkness again, and he listened to the clunking of the heavy boots stumbling across cement.
With little warning, bare fingers ghosted across his forehead, He flinched at the contact, the too cool by comparison temperature a shock to his system. Unsurprisingly, his assumption of infection had been correct, and he most certainly had become feverish. He had to be quite the alarming sight.
Jason let out a low growl as he towered over him and he responded with a noise stuck between and grunt and a whimper before light suddenly returned. The overhead bulb dangling from the ceiling was far dimmer than the bright fluorescents outside of the chamber, but all the same Tim still strained his eyes to adjust to the sudden change, blinking rapidly as he tried to locate Jason's form with his eyes. But his vision was blurred from disuse and he could not get his eyes to focus. His stomach lurched with sudden dizziness and he squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in deep ragged breaths, willing away the heaving urge to gag spreading up his chest. Yes, he had certainly been alone for a significant amount of time. He was sure now. Things were surely worse than he could tell yet.
Suddenly, his head was being lifted upright, and he willed his eyes open once more to understand why.
To his surprise- and relief, a water bottle was being brought to his lips. A calloused hand tilted it upward while the other grasped his chin and pried his jaw open. The water streaming into his mouth was a relief and he chugged it quickly, sputtering as it soothed his dry scratchy throat, though the sudden intrusion after so long did little to calm his stomach. The bottle was taken away quicker than he would have liked- rationally he understood why. Vomiting with his current injuries would likely cause him to blackout again from excruciating pain. But he still mourned the loss. His head was placed back onto the mattress before he could manage a word of complaint against it, and Jason turned from the bed.
The man hobbled across the room slowly leaving Tim to stare after him.
It gave him some insight into the situation. Clearly whatever had happened since their confrontation and fight, however long ago that had been, had injured Jason. Even with Tim seeing double he could make out just how tattered the remaining bits of the modified Bat-suit were, the man's split lip, and the plethora of scratches scattered across his face. Jason was favoring both his shoulder as well as his leg in addition to the visible damage, and had likely re-torn something in his previously injured knee, Tim reasoned.
Jason was cursing softly across the room, tossing supplies around, and the younger man could not suppress his flinching each time he slammed something down on a surface. He felt unnaturally tired again, and fought against his drowsiness, watching Jason's blurred back as he tinkered with things just out of his line of view.
He had not even realized that he had shut his eyes again until a stabbing pain spread throughout his arm and they shot open as result. He gave a weak yelp, and turned his head to stare down at the source of the sting, watching as Jason twisted and prodded at an intravenous line. At the other end of the tube a blood pack hung, and Tim felt his nearly empty stomach flop again at the sight. He had to turn away. The readjusting of the needle, veins likely flat and poor due to his dehydration and blood-loss, had the nausea return with a vengeance. Eventually Jason must have gotten a proper flash, because he gave a small hum, and stepped away briefly.
He felt himself finally relaxing, and the flow of much needed blood at least brought a slight cooling of temperature, however brief. He let himself get lost in his head for a time, concentrating on only his heart beat, and his breathing. This was perhaps a mistake as a short time into the transfusion, Jason was manhandling him and turning him slightly to side before jabbing a syringe in his rear.
Penicillin, judging by the dull burn, confirming that he was correct about the infection and fever... he wondered if it would be strong enough at this point? Probably not, but it could have been all that the man had had on hand at the time.
As his eyes fluttered shut, no longer able to fight back the drowsiness, the last thing he saw before drifting off entirely was Jason's face- uncharacteristically concerned, despite being behind the circumstances that had put him there in the first place.
x
The next time Tim awoke his mind was not nearly so cloudy, and his stomach was less of a mess, but everything still hurt. The I.V. in his arm was no longer attached to a blood bag feed, instead it was now simply dripping lactate ringers, something he hoped was a sign he was truly improving.
He was alone once more, but this time the overhead light had been left on, and with his vision seemingly better than it had been previously- now that he had been provided with medical attention, he was able to get a thorough look at his surroundings without making himself ill.
It was a large, relatively bare room, which Tim assumed was entirely intentional. Essentially a concrete box, with a steel door, and the only contents were the mattress he was draped across, the counter-top at the far end of the room, the light, and a transparent drawer cabinet that looked to be filled to the brim with medical supplies. He glanced down at his leg, to the device attached, and sighed. He was cuffed to the bed, or rather the wall, a complex piece of work around his ankle that was loose enough to allow circulation but too tight to be comfortable- let alone squeeze out of. Even if he had been able to sit upright, let alone walk, there would be no removing it, and it was obvious at a first glance that the heavy chain would not reach anywhere near the door. He was forced to admit that he was not going anywhere anytime soon. He would have to hope in the meantime that sooner rather than later someone figured out where he was being kept.
Tim had been coherent for perhaps fifteen minutes when he heard the metallic clang of the door lock being released, and he braced himself.
In stepped Jason, sans bat-gear, dressed down to what he had been wearing several months back, domino in place over his eyes. He had clearly tended to himself in the time that had passed and was now steadier on his feet, though Tim could still see him favoring his leg. The man shut the door with a loud bang, crossed the room with his arms folded across his chest, and he stopped beside the bed to leer down at him. A smirk spread across his face.
"Looks like you're back among the living, welcome home Drake..." He drawled, cocking his head at him.
He met the man's gaze warily, and tried to gauge the amount of healing the scratches on his face had gone through, but ultimately came up empty.
"..how long?" He managed to croak out, coughing at the scratchiness of his throat.
Jason towered over him, looking him over with a bored look on his face.
"Four days... Admittedly it was not my intention to lock you up and leave you half-dead for three of those, but Dickie-bird had other plans, and I was off limping and licking my wounds afterwards. Took a while to get back on my feet, pick up supplies, and get back here in that state. Nothing pain pills weren't able to fix- so I'm good now. Was a tad bit afraid you'd be in an even worse state, but you're quite the fighter. Knew you'd at least still be breathing." He laughed darkly.
Tim frowned, furrowing his brow as he stared up at the man’s blank white lenses.
"I… I don't understand, wh-"
"Why? I've already told you why. I gave you a proposition, and you turned me down, even lashed out at me. 'Cept I don't take no for an answer, not anymore, and I'm a sore loser." He sighed, making his way around the mattress. "So now, you're mine, entirely."
Tim twitched, sucking in a sharp breath.
Because what?
"You can't just-"
Jason cut him off with an amused snort.
"Oh I do believe I can Baby-bird. See, Goldie and his little demon minion think you bit the big one, if not by my own hand like I told them, then by the explosion and resulting cave in I set off when he decided it was time to tango. Granted, that has him raging like a beast and being a particularly gnarly thorn in my side, but that means that they aren't looking for you. You're at my mercy. It's up to me to keep you alive, fed, and safe, and hell- I've always wanted a pet." He chuckled, running a hand through Tim's bangs, noting with amusement how Tim slunk back from it. "And I've been told that homeless strays are the best, the most loyal… and I'm looking forward to that." He smirked.
With that, a new feeling of dread spread throughout his chest, and Tim was suddenly left wondering whether or not he would have preferred for Jason to have left him there alone to rot after all.