Dick could feel a stiff mattress beneath him, and a semi soft cover over top of him. His body ached all over; for some reason he couldn't open his eyes, and he could hear people speaking in low tones all around him. The voices were soft--not really whispers--but not loud enough for him to make out what they were saying or who they belonged to. Dick focused all of his attention on the soft, dare he think it? Soothing voices, but it was no use. He couldn't decipher anything more than the fact there were three people talking.
Dick tried to say something…anything. He tried to call out to the ones conversing, but he could do nothing more than groan. He felt a soft gentle hand wrap around his right wrist, and immediately recognized it as Barbara's. Then he felt a strong, light, bony hand on his left hand, and knew that was Alfred. Soon after that he felt a rough, strong, heavy hand on his left arm, and realized that was Bruce. Dick could hear the soft beeps and hums of machines all around him, and now that he wasn't straining to focus all of his attention on the voices, he could feel tubes and wires running up and down his body.
Dick's first thought, before he was even fully awake and aware of his surroundings was, "UGH I hate hospitals." He soon realized that the reason he was unable to talk was because he had a tube down his throat. Okay, not comfortable, but I can deal with it…. He thought as he continued to mentally check the damage. Eyes taped shut...explains the whole not-being- able-to-open-them thing, IV...fun stuff there. Suddenly he stopped in his mental check list. Okay, Grayson, think! How did I end up like this? What's the last thing I remember? I'm sure that is going to be the first thing Bruce will ask me the moment they rip the tube out of my throat. He laid there trying to remember as a couple more people filed into the room.
Dick could feel someone carefully removing the tape from his eyes, and when he finally got to open them, all he could see was a shining bright light. Damn, you think the docs could give a guy a minute to adjust, or something. How long is the poking, prodding, and checking vitals going to take? I'll bet Bruce is just as annoyed as I am. He hasn't said anything since the poking and prodding started...come to think of it no one has spoken since that person with the really cold hands checked me over. Dick was torn from his thoughts when the doctor spoke to him.
The doctors and nurses sat him up. "Okay Mr. Grayson, we are going to pull the tube out of your throat now. We need for you to cough as hard as you can."
Dick nodded; the doctor counted to three, and then began to remove the tube. When it was out, Dick coughed a few more times, and after a few minutes, was given ice chips for his throat. He was told he could talk, but only in whispers. He was about to tell them how uncomfortable that really was, but Bruce stopped him. "We'll talk when we get home." Barbara and Alfred simply nodded without saying anything.
Dick coughed again, and turned his attention to Bruce. "Sounds good to me." He suddenly realized how much whispering hurt, and again thought of how much he hated hospitals. "Can we leave soon? You know how I feel about being here."
Bruce looked to one of the doctors. The doctor nodded. "We want to run a few tests, but after that, if everything checks out, I see no reason why you can't return home." The doctors and nurses walked out of the room, leaving the four of them alone.
Dick glanced around the room. "So, where's Tim? I half expected to see one of you holding him back to keep him from jumping on top of me."
The three of them all stared from one to the other but said nothing. Bruce glared at the other two for a moment before turning back to Dick. "I told you we would talk when we got home. Rest now." Dick was about to protest, but from the look that Bruce was giving him, he decided against it.
The last few hours that he had remained in the hospital were spent in silence--unless Dick was talking to one of the doctors or nurses, of course. The car ride home was also silent. When they got to the manor, Alfred immediately started to set up the den for Dick; the doctors didn't want him going up and down stairs for awhile. Bruce was busy making phone calls, and Barbara seemed to be doing anything she could to keep from being left alone with him.
Once everything was set up and Dick was comfortable on the sofa, the other three came in and sat down. Bruce was the fist to speak. "What do you remember?"
Dick sat there thinking for an instant before he spoke. "Tim and I were out checking on a lead at some abandoned factory." He chuckled a little. "Tim had just mentioned how it's always an abandoned factory, or warehouse, or something or other. We were on the roof about to enter, when suddenly Tim stopped dead in his tracks. I didn't know if he had seen something or heard something, but he just stopped. Then he suddenly turned around, pushed me forward, and told me to run. I knew he was right behind me because his hands didn't leave my back until I had almost reached the edge of the roof top. He shoved me off as hard as he could while I shot off a line. I was still three feet away from the edge when he pushed me. I figured Tim was right behind me. I was about to turn my head to make sure when the entire place blew up, and knocked me out of the air." Dick stopped, and didn't say anything for a moment. "So, where is Tim anyway?"
No one said anything after that. The entire room was completely silent. Dick stared at each of their faces for a moment. "Tim was right behind me, wasn't he? What happened to him? Is he in the hospital, or something? Guys…someone…please…say something. You all are freaking me out."
Alfred was silent--he didn't know how to break the news to Dick. Barbara's eyes had started to water, and she was barely keeping herself from sobbing. Bruce just stood there trying not to break down in front of his son. He slowly moved closer to Dick, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Bruce stood there quietly for a moment, gathering both strength and the words he needed to tell his son. Finally he found himself speaking. "Dick, I'm sorry. Tim didn't make it off that roof. In fact, if he hadn't pushed you off, you probably wouldn't have either. I'm sorry, Dick." Bruce's voice dropped, and he fell silent.
Dick just sat there staring at them. "No. He was right behind me. I know he was. He is always right behind me, no matter what. Tim is ALWAYS right behind me, even when he doesn't want to be. I drag him along, and he talks and talks and talks and…and he's always there through everything--even when I'm wrong, he sticks with me. He can't be gone! Tim didn't deserve this! It should have been me. Don't you think he's been through ENOUGH? He didn't deserve to have it end that way!" Dick stared up to Bruce with tears in his eyes.
Bruce was having trouble keeping his own tears from falling. "I know, chum. I know, but Tim saved you, and you can't think it should have been you. It shouldn't have been anyone, but Tim chose this life, and-"
Dick cut him off. "It doesn't matter! None of it matters. Why do we keep doing this to ourselves? We just keep losing people."
Bruce sat down on the couch next to him. "You know why we do what we do, and Tim knew as well." He was about to give Dick the same line he had given Tim when he thought about quitting after all the deaths he had been through, but it just didn't seem right under the circumstances. Bruce knew it wouldn't matter...it never did...losing one of their own...no matter what he said it never got any easier...especially when they were so young. His thoughts went to all of the things Tim would never get to do, and before he knew it the tears were rolling down his cheeks.
Dick stared at his father, trying to keep his own tears from falling. Barbara and Alfred were just sitting there silently crying. No one had said anything for some time. Dick looked around the room, and stared at each of their faces. They had all loved Tim, but none like he had. Tim...Timmy...was his little brother. Suddenly he could feel his grief overcoming him, and he wasn't willing to break down in front of the people around him. "Get out." His voice was low, and hostile.
Barbara looked up with tears still rolling down her face. "What?"
Dick stared straight into her eyes. "You heard me. Get out! All of you. Leave me alone."
She was hurt, and wasn't sure what to say. "Dick." She tried, but he simply turned away.
Without looking at a single person in the room, Dick spoke again. "Leave me alone! GET OUT!
Barbara moved closer to him, and tried to touch him, but one single glare from Dick had stopped her dead in her tracks. They stayed there for a moment…neither one of them removing their gaze from one another, and then finally after what seemed like an eternity, Barbara nodded and slowly wheeled herself out of the room. Alfred and Bruce silently followed her.
Dick sat there for a moment, and just let everything sink in. Tim is gone. Tim is gone. I can't believe Tim is gone. Dick repeated those words in his mind over and over as he began to cry. There had never, in his entire life, been a moment where he had wished more than right now that he had died with his parents. At least then Tim would have never put on the Robin suit, and he would still be alive…living a normal teenager's life.
Dick couldn't help but let his grief rule his thoughts. G-d, Tim, Why? He knew the answer, but it didn't make it any better. A vise-like feeling came over him--like someone was crushing his heart inside of him--and sobs wracked his body as he tried to cling to something...anything that would make it better. Pain would sear across him from what had happened, but he didn't register it. Tim...Tim...WHY did it have to be Tim? He couldn't keep the question from his mind. "Timmy" he whispered to the empty room just before he cried himself to sleep.
The End