"Light, you stupid thing. Light," Tim muttered to himself.
He had been trying to light a fire with some twigs and kindling for the past twenty minutes, but was not having any success. He angrily threw the sticks aside and flopped on the cooling sand. The shadows from the trees were long, but not long enough to reach him yet at his spot just above the high tide line, though they soon would. The light was slowly fading and Tim needed to get this fire started so they would have warmth and light for the encroaching night. His lone flashlight just wasn't going to cut it.
With their first day on the island coming to a close, the boys had actually accomplished a lot. Tim had managed to build a shelter and boxes to hold the food the had scrounged up. When it was clear that Damian was not going to die from drinking water, he had constructed waterproof containers from materials he found in the jungle. It wasn't the prettiest cup in the world, Tim reflected, but it worked well enough with their limited resources.
There had been no sign of life, well no sign of human interference on the island besides the cigarettes. The jungle was buzzing with insects, and birds, and wildlife, but no one approached them, no plane flew overhead, no boat appeared on the horizon. It was a little disheartening, but at least no one was shooting at them. The island was pretty and quiet, a nice break from the noise of the city, though, at times, the roar of the surf and the hum of the jungle was deafening.
The suitcases had dried in the scorching sun, leaving all of the clothes scratchy from the salt, but dry. Dick had lent Jason and Damian t-shirts, though they were a little small for Jason and comically big for Damian. They grumbled, but with a weak glare from Dick, they got over the size, welcome for the clean change of clothes.
Tim was worried about Dick. His skin was flushed—not from sunburn—and he was shivering, teeth chattering. The boys had made their eldest brother take a break from gathering supplies when he had stumbled and dropped a full container of precious water. They made him sit underneath the lean-to and he had barely agreed to it, but his dizzy spell forced him to.
Jason and Damian were in the process of stumbling through the jungle with containers of water, careful not to lose any of the valuable liquid, and empty it into a larger, covered container that would be their supply for the time being. Damian kicked a fern out of his way, cursing in arabic, and lugged the water to the the bigger tub. He poured the water in and glanced around, eyes settling on Tim and narrowing when he saw his brother lying on the sand. He walked over to him and Tim groaned.
"What do you want?"
"Why aren't you doing any actual work?" Damian asked instead.
"I can't get the freaking fire started," Tim said. "Batman taught me when my training first, but it wasn't the most important thing to remember when you live in the city."
"Let me try," Damian said, reaching for the sticks.
Tim had expected a sarcastic reply or a nasty remark, but Damian just took the stick without comment and expertly rubbed it against the block of wood. Soon a small swirl of smoke wafted up and Damian gently breathed on it, encouraging the embers. The kindling fibers soon caught aflame. Damian fed it to the pile of sticks and logs. He stoked the flame until it grew higher and higher, devouring the wood. Tim watched all of this with amazement and envy.
"How did you—"
"My training was not as long ago as yours," Damian said simply.
He got up and left Tim for Dick, crawling under the lean-to. Jason let out a low whistle from where he was standing by the water. Tim hadn't noticed his entrance to the beach.
"He sure showed you."
"Oh, shut it," Tim said, flopping back on the sand and graoning. Unlike his brothers, he hadn't strayed too far into the shade of the jungle, so his skin was fried a dark pink. He shuddered to think about the pain he was going to experience in the morning. Jason just laughed at him.
"What's the matter, Pinky? Did we leave you in the oven for too long?"
"Don't you have some water to carry?"
"The water tub is almost full and if I have to carry another damned cup of water through that jungle again, I'm gonna shoot something," Jason replied. His expression was dark.
"You don't actually have a gun on you, do you?" Tim asked, warily, sitting up.
"No," Jason said, sullenly. "I didn't want to risk it with Bruce or the airport security. I don't know which is more terrifying."
"Definitely Bruce. The airport can only arrest you, but Bruce is Batman."
"Too true, Timmy," Jason said, patting him on the shoulder. Tim winced at the contact. "Green Arrow was marooned on an island once too, right?"
"Yeah. His parents were murdered by his arch nemesis and he was forced to survive on his own for a year before he was rescued. Why?"
"Maybe, when we get back, we can swap pointers with him. We'll show the Arrow clan how the bats do it better."
"How's Dick doing?" Tim asked, rolling his eyes and changing the subject.
He looked over towards his eldest brother. Dick was curled up next to Damian, dozing fitfully, while the younger boy kept watch, eyes on the ocean, searching for civilization.
"The stubborn bastard won't admit it, but the cuts on his hands are infected. Badly. I think he already has a fever," Jason replied, shaking his head.
"Go get some more wood and I'll convince him to sit by the fire."
"Good luck with that," Jason said, snorting. "The dick is going to get himself killed."
Jason pushed himself to his feet with a groan, stretching and popping his back. Tim winced at the sound. Jason walked to the treeline and disappeared into the darkening forest. Tim stood up and walked over to his brothers, feet crunching on the sand. He kicked a sea shell out of his way, before he got to the shelter.
"Dick," he said quietly, kneeling down. Damian glared at Tim for disturbing their sleeping brother. "Dick, we're going to move you in front of the fire to warm you up and then I'm going to change your bandages."
Dick stirred and groaned, batting Tim's hand away. "S'okay. Just lemme sleep."
"Come on, Dick," Tim said. He motioned for Damian to help him. Together, they dragged him to the fire.
"You guys suck," Dick groaned. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, blinking.
"You'll thank us later, Grayson." Damian began unwrapping Dick's bandages, ignoring his brother's whimpers. Damian went still at the sight of the infection, red and puckered, oozing pus. After a moment, he finished unwinding the wrappings from Dick's hands and discarded them.
"Damian, why don't you cut a shirt up into strips and get a cup of water for Dick," Tim said, putting his hand on the younger boy's shoulder. Damian shook off his shock and went to go do as Tim asked, much to the other two boys' confusion.
"Wow, he didn't even complain. My teachings of love and brotherhood must be working," Dick joked, weakly.
"Or he's scared shitless and you aren't making anything easier by ignoring your injury," Tim said, studying the inflamed flesh. At Dick's hurt expression he added, "Sorry, that was uncalled for. I'm just a little stressed at the moment."
"I know, Timmy," Dick said, wincing when Tim poked at the gash. "I just don't want you guys to worry anymore than you have to."
"It's all right, Dick. Just please, please, let us know if it gets any worse. Babs would kill me if I let you die on some deserted island."
Dick huffed a laugh. "She wouldn't kill you. She'd kill me, drop me in a lazarus pit, and then kill me again."
Damian arrived with the bandages and the water. He handed the cup to Dick and the fabric to Tim, who murmured his thanks.
"Thanks, Lil' D," Dick said, beaming at his youngest brother. He drained the cup.
"The best way to clean the cuts would be to wash them in saltwater, which we have plenty of," Tim said, gesturing the the ocean behind him. "It'll also bring down your temperature, but—"
"It'll hurt like bitch," Jason interrupted, dropping his load of sticks on the sand. Dick jumped.
"Jesus, Jay. You almost gave me a heart attack," Dick said. "For a dude your size, you don't make a lot of noise."
"I was trained by the best, Dickie-bird. Now enough stalling. Let's stick your hands in some saltwater."
Dick paled, trying to make an excuse, but Damian stopped him. "Are you scared, Grayson. A little pain never hurt anyone."
Tim and Dick both rolled their eyes.
"I'm not afraid," he said, sighing and struggling to stand.
Tim helped him up. They walked as a unit to the water's edge and Dick eyed it with trepidation.
"Okay, we're going to wash out the wound as quickly and thoroughly as possible and then I'm going to wrap your hands tightly with the t-shirt. You ready?"
"Born ready," Dick said, smiling weakly. He stood in the surf, the water swirling around his ankles.
Tim soaked one of the rags in the water and gently dabbed at the cuts. Dick flinched. Jason awkwardly patted his shoulder. Tim continued to wash the hand free of dried blood, sand, and grime. Dick's face grew more pained and more white as the seconds ticked by. He gasped as Tim finished and began wrapping the clean bandages around Dick's hand.
All of this was done in silence.
"Well, that went well," Tim said, wiping the sweat from his brow.
"Yeah, so well," Dick huffed out. "I'm going to take a nap."
"Wait, you should go for a dip, to cool you off," Tim said.
"Timmy," Dick said, wearily. "I'm freezing. If I get any colder, I'm going to turn into Mr. Freeze."
"Har har, funny, Grayson." Tim touched his brother's arm and slapped a reassuring grin on his face. "Go sit down."
"Yes, Doctor Drake." Dick stumbled back to the fire and collapsed, curling up on himself. The three remaining boys slowly walked back to the fire.
"He's burning up, isn't he?" Jason asked quietly. Damian's eyes widened before looking away.
"You guys should explore the rest of the island tomorrow," Tim said, watching Dick worriedly. "I'll stay here and watch over Dick, set up a smoke signal or an SOS sign or something."
"Sure," Jason answered. "We looking for anything special?"
"A way off this rock or for whoever left the empty cigarette case. If somebody else is here then they might have a radio and medical supplies."
"We should take the utility belts," Damian said. "I don't like the atmosphere of this place. If we do find people, they might not be amiable."
"You can take them, but try not to use the weapons if you find people," Tim warned. "And please exercise restraint. Remember: we crashed as the Wayne kids and that's who they'll be looking for."
Bruce groaned and rubbed at his eyes. He was exhausted. He had spent the entire day talking to various police officers and officials trying to find his sons, all in the guise of Bruce Wayne. He was forced to act worried and clueless, while others were in control of the search. That was more tiring than actually being worried. And he was worried, but the Batman was used to keeping his emotions in check, not showing them all willy nilly to whoever asked. Being Bruce Wayne was emotionally draining.
To say that this had been a stressful day would be an understatement.
Alfred was out, buying food and other materials for their impromptu extended stay. Bruce had cancelled their reservation at the resort and had opted for a hotel closer to the city and the search. He had also cancelled his business meeting, annoying the board in the process, but he didn't care; he was the CEO. Reporters were swarming around outside and blowing up his cellphone, trying to get a quote for their stories. Friend and allies also called to offer support and their help, but Bruce turned most of them away; there was not much they could do besides twiddling their thumbs.
If a bunch of heroes showed up to search for a few missing rich kids, the media would have a field day. He couldn't even take out his own batplane to search, incase he was spotted, and no matter how much Gotham knew of the Wayne family and the Bats watching over them, he couldn't risk it. Someone might get lucky and connect the dots.
He was now back at the hotel where the blissful silence greeted him like an old friend. Bruce opened up his laptop and connected it to Oracle's network. After Superman had failed to come up with any clues, Bruce had tried to call Aquaman, but Arthur was away on kingly business and couldn't be reached. So Bruce had contacted Barbara instead to find the boys. Oracle's logo popped up on his screen; after a moment, Babs' face replaced the computer generated one.
"Talk to me, Barbara." Bruce Wayne was gone and, in his place, the Bat.
"I've got nothing so far. I'm patched into every radio frequency in a fifty mile square radius from the crash site, plus all police, military, and coast guard broadcasts. Nobody's seen them, but if they do, we'll know," Babs said, a hint of worry lacing her voice.
"Satellite imagery?"
"I'm also trying to hack into the satellites; I'll have them cracked in a few hours," she promised.
"What about Ms. Lane's investigation into the human trafficking ring in the area?"
"Not human trafficking—drugs. I'm looking into it. So far all the information I have is what she found. They seem to be concentrated in the area, smuggling cocaine all over the world, but the authorities have never been able to find where they store their product, though they guess on an uninhabited island somewhere in the area. Every member that was arrested has kept their mouths shut and accepted their prison sentence or, if they tried to bargain, they were murdered in creative ways. These guys don't mess around—they're brutal and efficient," Babs said. Her fingers clacked against the keyboard as she typed. "I'm trying to hack into their systems, but that will also take a while."
"Notify me immediately when you do. If we find them, we may find the boys."
"Will do, Bruce. I'm sorry I'm so useless—I haven't slept in three days."
"Is Proxy assisting you?" He asked, gruffly. He felt bad for pushing her like this, but the worry tingling in his chest wouldn't leave him alone.
"I assigned her to help Batgirl in the field, while I'm doing this."
As if she had heard her name, Stephanie's face appeared on screen. "Don't worry, B. Gotham's safe in my capable hands until you and the birds come home."
"I wasn't worrying, Stephanie, but thank you for the reassurances," he said, with the faintest flicker of a smile. "I expect my city to be exactly as I left it."
Stephanie grinned sheepishly and rubbed at her neck. "Well…"
Babs shoved her out of the way. "We'll find them, Bruce. I'm sure they're surviving just fine."
"That's not what I'm worried about," he said. "All four of them forced to rely on each other for survival is my biggest worry."
"Just have faith in them," Steph said, popping on screen again. "Get some sleep in the meantime, you look like crap." She ducked out of view. Stephanie said something unintelligible to Barbara offscreen and Babs shushed her.
"I'll update you with anything I find. Oracle out."
Bruce leaned back in his chair and pinched his nose. He knew his city was in good hands while he was gone, and he was grateful for Batgirl and Oracle to be patrolling. He just wished that he had never suggested a family vacation in the first place. He would blame Alfred for the idea. His old friend had been needling him to spend time with the boys so he thought he could knock out two birds with one stone—he hadn't meant that literally, though. Now Bruce just had to find his wayward sons.
Well, I suck. It's been a while, friends! Life is my excuse this time for not posting and I honestly forgot about this story until a few days ago, when some lovely people commented and reminded me to finish it. This chapter has been sitting on my drive collecting dusts for months so I think it'll get much more use posted online. I have another chapter on the editing table and I'll have it up in a couple days. Until then!