"Because I knew you'd make the right one," I whisper.
I know the words sound shallow and weak to him. How could they not? After all the loss Tim's felt, what comfort can I possibly offer him? But I mean them, all the way through to the core of me. I did know he'd make the right choice. He's too much like Bruce, no matter how much he's hurting, he'd never do anything immoral.
And he's my brother.
He's sobbing in my arms very quietly. I hold him close to my chest, my chin in his hair so I can "shhh" him quietly as we rock back and forth together. I'm not sure who's doing the rocking, him or I, but it's steady, rhythmic, calming I hope.
Bruce probably needs us, but I'd stay in this spot, on my knees, holding him like this forever, until he's all right again. I mean, if he can ever be all right again. If he was ever all right at all.
I'd kick myself if I could for not realizing sooner how badly my little brother was damaged. Somehow the words are slipping out of my mouth without me really planning on it. "Little brother."
He shutters harder and his hand closes around my arm. My god does the boy have a grip. "It's okay," I murmur to the top of his head. "It's going to be okay Tim."
"Dick," he whimpers at me. I'm suddenly very aware of that guy, I Ching watching us both.
"Ssshhh," I answer. "It's all right."
It takes a long time for his breathing to slow down to a normal rate but that's okay, I want him safe for as long as possible and I can't think of any place he'd be saver then where he is right now, in my arms.
"I'm sorry," he whispers again.
"It's okay," I promise him even though I'm starting to feel so sore I just want to lie down on the ground and wait for Alfred to come find me. My arms are aching from deflecting all of Tim's swings and there's blood on my tongue. After all the times I've been hit in the face, it seems like the kind of thing I'd be used to by now, but my stomach rolls a little against the taste of it. "It's okay."
"We should go help Bruce," Tim mumbles at last into my chest. His head is so close to me, the words feel like they're brushing my heart.
I'd give anything in the world, even die, to stop him from ever feeling like this again. Anything in the damn world.
"Yeah," I agree. "We'll go in a minute."
It seems stupid, even to me, but I just want to hold him for a few more seconds before I let him go and risk him getting caught up in a world that will keep cutting up his heart until there's nothing left. Until he's like Bruce on the inside. There's nothing that scares me more then that. Nothing in the world.
"Dick," he whispers again and we both tighten our grip on each other, just for a second before letting go. I regret it, but he's right, this isn't over yet. We've still got fighting to do. Our hands loosen almost completely in-sync. We don't even have to say anything.
He pulls away, and suddenly there's nothing but cold air pressed against my chest and I shiver a little. A second later he's on his feet in front of me and a second after that I'm standing next to him.
Of course, a second after that I'm falling down because my leg's have gone numb below the knees from crouching like that for so long. Tim grabs me. "You okay?" he asks frantically as he pulls my weight onto his shoulders without even thinking about.
"Fine," I say grinning at him and gently shifting my weight back onto my own feet. "I'm okay kiddo."
"You sure?" he asks me nervously. I know how guilty he's feeling. Seriously, I do, because which member of the Batfamily hasn't taken a few swings at someone they loved? And like most of the punches swung by members of the Batfamily, they hit home.
"Yeah," I promise him. "Come on. Bruce is going to need rescuing and I don't know where Talia went, but it's probably not going to help us."
"What about him?" Tim asks, pointing over at the monk, who is still up on his ledge watching us like a gargoyle in Gotham City, but not nearly as friendly.
"Good point," I agree. "Are you coming down?" I shout up at him. "Or should we come up?"
"Do as you please," he answers. "I will stay here. To prevent forever from happening now."
"I want to party with you, cowboy," I shout back.
"Can you tell us the way out?" Tim asks, maybe a little weakly but with all of his usually efficiency and detective-Bruce-like-authority. For a minute I Ching just looks at us both and then jumps down. Without saying anything he starts to walk. We both understand that we have to follow him. Tim gives me a look and I understand it. I return it.
We're brothers. We've never really needed words to understand each other.