Here's some brotherly bonding between Tim and Damian, with a heading helping of angst.
Warnings: angst, blood, injury, depression, self-harm. There's nothing incredibly graphic, just mention of it.
This takes place in the general DCU. The prompt for this chapter was "Scream. Scream. Or I will make you scream."
Victor Szasz held a knife to the doctor's throat, his hands shaking ever-so-slightly at the chance he would be able to add another tally to his body. He had the perfect place picked out for this one- a small patch behind his right knee. But he couldn't help her until she begged for her life. Only then could he kill her and claim his reward.
"All you have to do is scream for me, my child, and I will set you free. It's that simple."
He broke free of his restraints during a wound cleaning procedure due to a massive infection on his left leg. Despite the hospital ward at Arkham receiving an expansive face lift, complete with state-of-the-art security upgrades courtesy of the Wayne Foundation, restraints only worked when someone left them alone. The nurse assisting the surgeon for the procedure released the restraints as the surgeon was scrubbing in, under threat that her entire family would be slaughtered if she didn't do what they asked. She'd gambled at the wrong casino two months earlier and when she couldn't pay off her debt, the Falcones came after her hard.
Sarah hid behind the gurney Victor had been strapped to, clutching a scalpel and a syringe of propofol she prepped for him prior to surgery. She watched as Victor held Dr. Anders, his scarred arm tightly around her neck, and once again told her to scream. Dr. Anders looked like she might pass out and Sarah hoped she would; being unconscious for her death would make it easier. From the corner of her eye, she saw the security staff frantically trying to keep the rioting inmates from entering that part of the medical ward.
As Victor was about to slit her throat, the door to the operating suite opened with a bang. Red Robin entered, his staff drawn at his side. He looked at Susan and nodded to his right, indicating she should circle back toward him to get out. She took a few steps toward him and Victor panicked.
"NO! No one leaves this room! Not until I'm finished!"
Red Robin sighed and collapsed his staff.
"Victor, you can let the doctor and the nurse go. Take me instead. I know you've saved a spot for all of us."
Sarah watched as Victor's eyes lit up and a crazed smile spread across his face. He practically shoved Dr. Anders at Red Robin, scrubbing a hand over his face in glee.
"How right you are, little bird. I have a spot right here," he tapped the bare skin above his heart, "saved for the lot of you."
Red Robin ushered Dr. Anders out the door behind him, motioning for Sarah to do the same. She put the scalpel back on the tray and shoved her hands in the pockets of her scrubs. Her fingers wrapped around the syringe, still with its cap on, and she carefully moved toward the door. She bit her lip and paused when she was close enough, noticing the unprotected skin between Red Robin's sleeve and his gloves.
"I'm sorry for this," she whispered. "But Falcone said he'd kill my family."
She uncapped the syringe and plunged it into his bicep, pushing the plunger down. She darted from the room and slammed the door behind her, hitting the panic button that locked the room down. Red Robin pulled the needle from his arm and looked at her in shock, registering what she said before he passed out a minute later.
When Tim came to, he was strapped to a table. The harsh lights above his head were blinding, making it impossible to see where he was. He winced and turned his head to the side. The light was shifted and he relaxed, the spots in his vision starting to fade.
"Ah, there you are. I was hoping it wouldn't take long for you to wake up."
Tim blinked and rolled his head to his right, coming face to face with Victor Szasz.
Oh, yay. This couldn't have gone any better.
Once he saw Red Robin was conscious, Victor resumed his pacing around the room, rambling about the voices in his head and how they were telling him to set Red Robin free. His excited gibberish made Tim nervous, but he knew the moment he panicked, it would set Victor off. And as long as he was pacing and ranting, he wasn't focused on cutting Tim's throat.
He couldn't have been out for too long; from the commotion he could hear in his ear piece, the one Victor thankfully hadn't discovered, the riot in the rest of Arkham was still happening. He could hear Batman and Robin clearing their way through the intensive treatment wing, where the riot started, which meant he'd only been unconscious for twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes, tops.
"Batman to Red Robin. Status report. What's your location?"
Tim didn't answer, as Victor was still rambling and pacing the room, wildly waving the scalpel in the air. Since his hands were tied down, he couldn't tap the comm in his ear to activate it.
"And that's when I knew, I just knew, that I had to liberate the Bats here in Gotham. And only then can I finish what I started."
Victor stopped by Tim's head, bending over his face. His pupils were dilated and he was drooling.
"What do you say, Red Robin? Are you ready to make that sacrifice?"
Tim was never more grateful for re-enabling the live feed to the camera in his mask. Whenever someone didn't check in, Batman immediately had Oracle check the video feed for whoever was missing.
"Batman to Oracle. Access the live feed from Red Robin's mask."
Victor tapped Tim's cheek with the flat edge of the scalpel. Tim tried not to flinch.
"Well, little bird, are you ready to sacrifice yourself? Are you ready to be set free?"
The quiet voice in the back of Tim's mind, the one that was telling him again lately that he was better off alone, that he should push away anyone who cares about him because he'll lose them anyway, the one Tim was struggling to keep quiet, spoke up.
Better you than the hostages. They can get back to their families now. This is the way it should be. You won't have to suffer through losing anyone else if Victor finishes this. Just let him.
Tim blinked, feeling tears pricking his eyes. He was tired of feeling so empty and lonely and numb. And he was so over that voice, his voice, telling him that it was better him than someone else. Maybe Victor was right.
"Batman, you need to get to the medical wing now. Szasz has Red Robin hostage and he's getting ready to do what he does best."
Oracle's voice in his ear startled him and he inhaled sharply, in turn startling Victor. He dropped the scalpel and it nicked Tim's cheek. Victor shivered in delight, swiping at the drop of blood that appeared with a calloused fingertip.
"Are you ready for the end, Red Robin? Are you ready to be free?"
This time, Damian's voice was in his ear piece.
"Robin to Batman. I'm closest, I'll intervene."
Tim squeezed his eyes shut.
Not Damian. Anyone but him. He'd never hear the end of this.
"Affirmative, Robin. I'll join you as soon as I can."
Tim closed his eyes and turned his head away from Victor, his cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. When Victor realized he was being ignored, he got angry.
"LISTEN TO ME, YOU RUDE LITTLE BIRD!"
He slammed his hand down on the gurney next to Tim's face, the impact rattling his teeth in his head. Victor launched into another tirade about being disrespected and ignored before demanding Tim play along with his stupid game.
"Make this interesting, birdie. You need to make this interesting. It's the only way it can work."
Tim sighed wearily. He didn't have the energy for this anymore. Not for tonight, not in general.
"No."
Victor held the scalpel to Tim's carotid artery. His voice was quiet, but shaky.
"Now be a good boy and scream for me."
"Not going to happen."
In that moment, Tim was calm. He wasn't scared, he wasn't panicking. His heartbeat wasn't erratic; it was steady. He felt no ill will toward the nurse who drugged him, because that voice in his head was right; better him than her. From the moment he pleaded with Batman to take on a Robin, he knew, deep down, that it could end this way. But he always figured he would be afraid to die, and so far, he wasn't afraid. He found he was wishing Victor would hurry up. And that bothered him, just a little. He knew it should bother him more. But he didn't have the energy to care.
Victor had turned his back while Tim was lost in thought and turned around with a steel orthopedic mallet in one hand, a scalpel still in the other. He put the scalpel down next to Tim's head and held Tim's hand in place on the table. He looked down at his hand and realized, for the first time, that Victor had removed his gloves while he was unconscious.
"This isn't any fun when the patient is so quiet," he said, twirling the mallet. He raised the mallet up over his head and brought it down hard across the back of Tim's hand. There was an audible crunch and Tim bit his tongue, trying not to cry out. He managed to stifle a cry, muffling it to a pained grunt. Victor tossed the mallet back onto the surgical tray, the loud clang of steel on steel making Tim wince.
He picked up the scalpel again, gently running it along the inside of Tim's left bicep, dangerously close to his brachial artery. He grinned viciously.
"Scream. Scream! Or I will make you scream."
Tim clenched his jaw and looked away from Victor, closing his eyes and waiting for him to sever the artery. He figured he would bleed to death in a few minutes, falling unconscious before that. It was infinitely better than Victor choosing to sever the carotid artery and he would be conscious long enough to see his heart pump the life right out of his body.
He wearily opened his eyes after a few seconds, wondering why Victor hadn't made his move, and that was when he caught sight of Robin standing outside the door of the operating room. Robin's eyes widened beneath his mask and Tim felt a burning sensation as scalpel cut into his arm. He flinched, but didn't make a sound. Robin cracked the window with his fist, his yelling muffled by the heavy door.
Victor turned and looked behind him and smiled, pointing at Robin over his shoulder with the tip of the blade.
"Well, if you won't scream, I bet I can get him to."
He raised the scalpel above his head and got ready to plunge it into Tim's neck. With a furious yell, Robin kicked the door in, sending a batarang slicing into Victor's hand and he dropped the scalpel. Victor fell to his knees and smiled, almost in bliss.
"I do love the sound of a good scream."
Robin knocked him out with a kick to his face. Turning to Tim, he started removing the restraints.
"Nice plan. Did you really think it would work?" If he was alarmed at the amount of blood beneath Tim's arm, he didn't show it. Tim noticed he didn't sound like Damian usually did. He didn't sound annoyed or condescending. He sounded... concerned? Was that it? Could Damian actually be concerned about him? But instead of dwelling on that concept, Tim did what he usually did.
He deflected.
"You're telling me that you knew the nurse was in too deep and owed someone a favor?" He slowly sat up and tried to stand, only to be pushed into a nearby chair. Damian applied a tourniquet to Tim's upper arm and started bandaging it.
"Tt. Who around here isn't working for the scum of Gotham?" he muttered. "But human sacrifice isn't the way to resolve things." He threw Tim a pointed glare, which Tim ignored, focusing instead on the blood pooled on the green tile beneath the table.
"Did you even try to get out of these restraints?" he asked, adding another compress to the wound. "These are like child's play to us."
Under normal circumstances, he would have said something like 'so that's why you're so good at it, then,' but he didn't have the energy. He was feeling really tired and struggled to keep his head up. The last thing he heard before he passed out was Damian's slightly-panicked voice telling Batman to hurry up and demanding that he stay awake.
When he came to the second time, he was back in the cave on a bed in the medical bay. His left hand was in a cast halfway to his elbow and his left bicep was covered in gauze, bandages and tape. There was an IV in his right arm and a bag of blood hanging above him. The lights were mercifully dimmed. He expected to see Bruce sitting next to him, but instead the chair was occupied by the smaller version.
Damian was stretching a small length of Coban over a piece of gauze on his elbow. They couldn't have been back more than a few hours; he was still wearing the lower half of his Robin uniform and a black t-shirt. But it was long enough that he'd had time to donate blood. Tim frowned. He wasn't even aware he and Damian were a match.
"Care to tell me what that was all about?" Damian began to unlace his boots, his nimble fingers making quick work of it. Tim felt a little loopy after whatever they gave him for his hand and arm, and he eyed Damian warily.
"I got the civilians out of the way by taking their place. It's what we always do." He stared up at the expanse of the cave and pointedly not at Damian.
"That's not what I'm referring to and I know you're not foolish enough to pretend otherwise, Drake."
Tim swallowed and coughed, his throat dry and hoarse. Damian handed him a cup of water with a straw. Tim took it and drank until it was empty.
"Then enlighten me."
Damian was usually articulate with almost no filter, but in this case, he wasn't sure how to say what was really on his mind. When it involved sensitive or emotional matters, he wasn't much better at talking about them than Father was. He stared at Tim's arm for a moment, and then at his own. Then he looked over at the mess Alfred was cleaning up; the mop and bucket, its water clouded red from the puddle of blood on the floor under Tim's arm. Tim's discarded shirt and armor, both stained with blood, on the floor near the laundry bin. His watchful gaze came back to rest on Tim. He was still staring at the ceiling. In the harsh lights of the medical bay, dim as they were at the moment, he looked deathly pale.
Then he thought about the look on Tim's face right before he saw Damian through the window at Arkham. He looked utterly miserable, but almost relieved that he might die. He didn't look frightened. He didn't look nervous. But when he'd caught Damian's eye, he looked almost… guilty.
He knew Tim struggled with depression and had ever since his father was killed. (No, he had most certainly not been reading Drake's medical file after he was first granted access to the computer. And it's most certainly not why he knew he'd be a match to donate blood this evening.) But he didn't know Tim had been battling it again. Having seen what he did tonight, though, the signs were there. He'd been isolating himself from everyone lately. His patrols were longer and more aggressive than usual. Damian knew Tim rarely slept well, but he could easily tell Tim wasn't sleeping much at all.
Tim apparently didn't think anyone paid close enough attention to notice these things and that made Damian angry. As much as he'd resented Tim at first, he'd come to respect him and even admire him, to a certain extent. (Not that he'd ever in a million years admit to that.) For someone in their family to believe they didn't matter? Or to throw themselves into harm's way on purpose to try and end things?
It was infuriating and painful to think about.
Damian kicked his boots off and studied Tim's face for a moment. He could tell Tim was barely holding it together, but he was out of his depth here; this was Grayson's territory. He didn't know how to ask if what he'd witnessed earlier was a suicide attempt.
"I didn't realize you had a death wish, Drake." His voice was quiet and lacking its usual snark. Tim gasped and looked at him, shocked at both the question and the almost sympathetic tone.
"That's not.. I didn't.."
"Tt. I can see it. I mean, I didn't necessarily see it until tonight, but I see it now."
Tim didn't try to deny it, realizing there was no point in doing so. He'd been caught. A tear slipped from his eye and ran into his hair. Damian leaned forward, keeping his voice quiet.
"I don't understand what you're going through, but I want to." He started fidgeting with the bandage in the crook of his elbow. "Despite our history, despite how you feel about me, if you want my assistance, I'm willing to help."
There was a sharp inhale and Damian looked up at Tim, who was looking at him with a mixture of confusion, gratefulness and pain. He swallowed several times before he was able to speak.
"I.. I think I'd like that, Damian."
He turned his right hand over and held it out to Damian, who timidly reached forward and took it in his own. His cheeks flushed pink and he refused to meet Tim's gaze, but he squeezed Tim's hand nonetheless.
A few minutes later, Tim was struggling to stay awake. But he needed to know something. He rolled his head to the side, opening his eyes. Damian was still sitting there, watching the screens flashing Tim's vital signs.
"Hey, Damian?"
"What?"
Tim was looking at him, hiding an amused smile.
"How did you know we had the same blood type?"