Tim probably should have told someone the second he started feeling sick. No, scratch that; he definitely should have told them. Especially because the reason for his illness was Poison Ivy and one of her toxins.
Red Robin had spent the better part of his morning tracking down Ivy after she'd managed to steal five grand in diamonds from a bank vault. It had taken hours to track her down, and even more time to fight her and her crazy plants. He'd won in the end, but not before she sprayed him with some kind of substance.
After Ivy had been picked up by the police and he still felt fine, he decided that maybe it had been a dud or just didn't work on him. That thinking disappeared when he started feeling woozy on the way to the manor.
Still, the Joker had just escaped from Arkham hours earlier and there was too much going on to waste time worrying about his health. Besides, he felt fine for the most part, or, at least fine compared to how her poisons usually were.
He entered the Batcave, looking to help out in any way he could. Bruce and Damian were already out looking for Joker, while Dick stayed behind working on some case files. Tim had decided to help out, as he knew how backed up they were.. He felt weak, but he kept telling himself to ignore it. There were more important matters at hand.
"Hey, Dick", he greeted his brother. Dick sat at the computer doing some research on a case. His head snapped up when he heard Tim's voice.
"Timmy! What's up, little brother?" He ruffled Tim's hair when he reached him.
"I'm here to help. I heard about the whole Joker thing and assumed you guys would be swamped."
"As always, you assumed right. I can't figure out this one case and need your detective bird expertise", Dick replied, grateful for the assistance.
Tim dragged over a chair and moved closer to Dick so he could get a better look at the file and they quickly got to work. Tim continued to ignore the signs of illness. He could take care of it when he got back to his apartment. Just make it through the day, that was all he needed. Just get through the day.
But soon be couldn't ignore the telltale dizziness and headache that soon plagued him. Dick's concentration was broken when he heard a small groan next to him. He turned to his left to see Tim with his eyes screwed shut and a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.
"You okay, Tim? You look a little green." Dick placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
Tim's eyes snapped open, as if he had completely forgotten Dick was there. "Huh? Y-yeah, I'm fine" He wiped a hand across his forehead and took a deep breath. "Sorry, I was just tired I guess. I'll be good once I get a cup of coffee to wake me up", he answered shakily.
It was easy for Dick to tell that something was wrong. Tim's eyes looked far away, like he was focused on something Dick couldn't see. There was no confidence in Tim's voice whatsoever, and he knew from experience that the kid would never admit it when something was wrong. He hoped he wasn't sick; not having a spleen made that pretty dangerous. Dick stood up with him, catching how unsteady he looked.
"Are you sure? You seem kind of uneasy, maybe you shou-" He was abruptly cut off when Tim suddenly groaned and collapsed, Dick's arms catching him just in time. Even through the thick Kevlar of his suit Dick could tell Tim was absolutely radiating heat. His breathing quickened, sounding raspy and uneven.
"Damn it", he cursed. He quickly hoisted Tim into his arms, trying to get Bruce on his comm at the same time. He placed the 17 year-old on the nearby cot, checking him over. His breathing was shallow and his pulse was thready. He had an extremely high fever and, judging by the way his face contorted, he appeared to be in a lot of pain.
Dick tried and failed to contact the rest of the bats, but everyone apparently was in a fight with the Joker and were all unavailable. Even Alfred couldn't be reached, as he had plans that weekend at some kind of wine tasting trip. Dick and Tim were on their own, and Dick still had no idea of what was even wrong.
Tim was fading in and out of consciousness, but eventually he managed to focus enough to hear what Dick was saying.
"Tim, can you hear me? What's wrong? Where does it hurt?" His voice sounded far away, but Tim tried his best to answer his questions. He opened his mouth, but he instead found himself doubled over in pain and vomiting up blood.
"Oh crap!" Dick quickly got him a bucket and rubbed his back until he could breathe again. He soon fell back gasping, his face contorted in pain and his face dripping with sweat.
"Nng... Ivy... p-poison...", he bit out.
Dick panicked when he heard the name. "Are you telling me she poisoned you and you waited to tell me until just now? Jesus Christ, Tim, why didn't you tell me sooner?" He tried his comm again. "Bruce, come in. It's urgent, come on."
"Nightwing, what's the problem?" He heaved a sigh of relief when he heard the familiar deep rumble of his adoptive father's voice.
He rambled as he explained the situation, all the while Tim clutched his torso in pain and tried his best to stay awake. Once Dick heard Bruce tell him he was on his way, he focused his attention back on his sick brother.
"Tim, why didn't you say anything earlier? You don't even have a spleen! Why didn't you ask for help?", he asked, running his hand through his hair in a worried fashion.
Tim coughed a few times before he croaked out in a rough voice, "Too much goin' on... not impor'nt enough t'mention."
"Not impor-? Timmy. Your health is way more important to us than ten Jokers. You can't just try to deal with everything yourself or we're not going to be able to save you when you really need it", Dick reprimanded, brushing back his brother's bangs that clung to his face from the sweat.
Tim leaned forward suddenly, a hacking cough overtaking his body. His chest rattled and made a harsh grating sound. Dick continued to rub his back in what he hoped was a comforting manner.
"Do you remember anything about what she sprayed you with?" Dick was getting really worried. Poison Ivy was not one to messed with. He couldn't understand what would make Tim track her down by himself without even considering calling for backup.
When Tim fell back onto the cot he finally got his breathing back under control. "Dunno... s-she was 'sperimenting wi' somethin. New formula..." His voice faded out even more until it was barely a whisper and his eyes became heavy.
At that moment Bruce finally burst into the cave, Damian on his heels. "Dick", he barked. "Status report."
"Weak pulse, dizziness, high fever, coughing up blood, and difficulty breathing", he answered as professionally as possible, but his voice wavered and was clearly laced with concern.
Bruce immediately got to work, testing Tim's blood for analysis and checking his symptoms. Luckily it was a simple poison, designed to kill over the span of just a few hours but fairly easy to create an antitoxin for. It took him slightly more than an hour to make it, but Dick stayed by Tim's side the whole time. They were able to get him a sedative, so he was sleeping now. Dick had brought down his fever by a few degrees with a cool washcloth and got an IV in him, so once the cure was finished he should be alright.
Hours later Tim had been injected with the antitoxin, the chemicals having immediate effects. He woke up groggy, but much better than he could say he felt earlier. Earlier... That's right, he'd been poisoned and Dick... Where was Dick? Tim turned his head and found his older brother asleep next to him.
He'd apparently fallen asleep while he waited for Tim to wake up. He was holding his hand and his head rested on his other arm in the cot.
Tim tried sitting up, jostling Dick in the process, who woke up. "Tim? Oh thank God, are you okay?", he asked.
Tim was stunned by the sudden questions, but most of all he was shocked that Dick was that concerned about him. He was only poisoned, was it really that big of a deal? Especially considering how much worse he's had it before. This was nothing.
"Yeah, um, I think I'm fine now. What happened?"
"What happened?! You were poisoned by Poison Ivy and decided that your wellbeing wasn't important enough to risk mentioning it. You nearly died because you were too stubborn to ask for help! Who does that? You have a whole family of people that love you, and yet you don't even bother telling us that you're ill, you wait until the last moment where you finally pass out in my arms!"
Tim winced through the lecture, kicking himself for being so stupid. He should have just gone straight home after he'd been sprayed. He could have taken care of the problem himself and he wouldn't have put his family through so much worry.
"I know, it was stupid and I'm sorry. I didn't think it compared to everything else that was going on, so I just figured I could fix it myself when I got back to my apartment."
Dick sighed. His brother really was a piece of work. Even after years of being reminded of how important he was to the family and how much he mattered, he still had trouble believing it. A 17 year-old boy shouldn't have to fix all of his problems by himself, he should be asking for help and bothering his family with every little thing that went wrong. Tim's parents must have screwed him up really badly; he was so used to being overlooked that he thought he was supposed to take care of every issue alone.
"Look, the point of having a family is that they are there for you when you need them. Like when you get sprayed by a deadly toxin, for example. That would be the perfect time to call us up and ask if we could save your life so you wouldn't die alone in your apartment because you understated your nonexistent immunity to poison", he said.
Tim finally gave in, knowing there was no way to excuse his actions anymore. "Okay, I get it", he amended. "It was reckless, and careless, and unbelievably stupid. I'm really sorry. Next time I promise I'll let you guys help me out, okay?"
Dick chuckled and ruffled his hair. "Lets you and I hope there isn't a next time, okay little brother?"
Tim joined him in laughing, feeling happier than he did all day. "You got that right."