Tim awoke sluggishly with a fog in his head and stiffness in his joints. The room was stale aired, pitch black, and completely soundless. He shifted, 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, and slowing his breathing brought the pain down somewhat, reducing it to a throbbing heated ache. Once his mind cleared to a degree he remembered.
He had been fighting Jason.
Jason had wanted him to be his Robin.
He had declined.
Jason had stabbed him.
And then he faintly recalled playing possum, feeling the 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 blood loss and trauma to his already exhausted body. Which explained why his body was stiff, his brain was swirling, and his stomach was doing flips despite the 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 he let out a sharp hiss.
He was not in the cave, either of them, he knew that much.
Tim did not get dwell on things very long for he blacked out once more soon after...
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Tim was not sure how much time had passed since he had last awoke, but nothing had changed. He was still in the same location, alone, able to see nothing but darkness. He tested his limbs once more, 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, that more than likely Jason had deposited him wherever he was, and had left him for one reason or another. Any potential efforts to locate him had clearly failed and he was regretting his decision to confront the man alone.
It hurt too much to sit up, he gave up after the first two tries… 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, the wound caused by the batarang to his sternum had likely caused a severe class two hemorrhage, draining him of far too much blood to function, but not enough to make him 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. It had admitted been ages since he had been so helpless and unable to care for himself.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Tim awoke for the third time laying in the same limp position, the room still cloaked in the darkest of shadows, and still utterly alone.
This he could not understand in the slightest. There was no point to the madness- no purpose to keep him in such conditions. 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 wound at all?
How long had it even been?
He was parched, hungry, and still oh so very tired- which was not a good sign at all. 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. It was hard to evaluate himself when he could hardly move.
He tried to cry out several times, perhaps alert the man to his returned consciousness, but 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 again, 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-x-x-x-x-x-
Tim had awoken and fallen back asleep several times before anything had changed. He felt ill, nauseous from the lack of sustenance, and the hunger tore 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.
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 almost ready to welcome it.
Until Jason finally returned.
He had been half asleep, dazed, merely focusing on the fact that he was still breathing when the door had suddenly flown open, spilling too-bright artificial light into the darkness, and Tim startled with a frightened yelp and whine as he turned his face away from the blinding white. The door shut tightly once more with a loud metallic thud almost just as quickly, drowning the room in darkness once more, and he listened to the clunking of the heavy boots stumbling across the cement.
With little warning bare fingers ghosted across his forehead, and he flinched at the contact, the too cool temperature a shock to his system. Seemingly his assumption of infection had been correct and he had become feverish. That was no surprise.
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 suddenly light returned. The overhead bulb was far dimmer than the bright fluorescents outside of the chamber but 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 focus. His stomach lurched from the sudden dizziness and he squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in deep ragged breaths, willing away the heaving urge to gag spreading up his chest. Suddenly his head was lifted upright, and he forced his eyes open once more to understand why to find a water bottle 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 did little to calm his stomach. The bottle was taken away quicker than he would have liked and he was placed back on the mattress before he could manage a word of complain against it. Jason turned from the bed and hobbled across the room slowly leaving Tim to stare after him.
It gave him some insight on the situation. Clearly whatever had gone on since their confrontation and fight, however long ago that had been, had injured Jason. Even with him seeing double he make out just how tattered the remaining bits of the modified Batsuit were, the split lip, and the plethora of scratches scattered across his face. The man 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 out of his line of view.
He hadn't even realized he had shut his eyes 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 pain, watching as Jason poked at prodded at him with 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, and had to turn away. This was perhaps a mistake as moments later 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…
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, seemingly rather concerned despite being behind the circumstances that had put him there in the first place…
-x-x-x-x-x-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 fluids, something he hoped was a good sign.
He was alone once more, but this time the light had been left on, and with his vision 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. It was essentially a concrete box, with a steel door, and the only contents were the mattress he was draped across, the countertop 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 were 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 had to admit, he was not going anywhere anytime soon…
Tim had been coherent for perhaps fifteen minutes when he heard the metallic clang of the door lock being released. In stepped Jason, sans bat-gear, wearing closer 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. He shut the door with a loud bang, crossed the room with his arms crossed over his chest, and he stopped beside the bed to leer down at him as a smirk spread across his face.
"Looks like your back among the living, welcome home Drake..." He drawled, cocking his head at him.
"..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 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.
"You can't just-"
"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 cave in I set off when he decided it was time to tango. Granted, that has him raging like a beast and being a 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 left wondering whether or not he would have preferred for Jason to have left him there alone to rot after all...