Alright, the next four stories are all connected to the same event. They can be read independently or together.
All characters belong to their respective companies
Damian felt nothing but guilt, Jason felt unsettled, and Tim felt completely and utterly useless. All because some idiot got lucky and shot Dick.
Do you ever have one of those days where no matter what you do, no matter how much you plan, or what you try, nothing seems to go your way? Ever?
Well Tim felt he was having one of those months.
It'd started with a failed op in Gotham. He was staking out a possible hideout for Victor Zsasz. He'd been searching for weeks prior and finally had a breakthrough. He'd been beginning to doubt himself. Unfortunately Zsasz had gotten spooked and didn't show. On top of every other lead of Tim's running cold.
Then there was a mission with the Titans, it was going to be easy stuff. Just gathering some intel on the Cult of the Cobra. They'd been making some moves that several of them found concerning. They'd been caught and been forced to retreat. More embarrassingly the League had to step in and clean the whole situation up.
More recently he'd been on the chase with Spoiler and Signal. They cornered Riddler, restrained him and left him to the GCPD. Tim had stupidly thought that was going to be the end of it. He'd gone back with Signal and went to sweep the building for anything that might've gotten left. It was a rookie mistake. Always, always, always look for trip wires. Nygma loved riddles and tricks. Making you think one thing and doing another. He'd caught Tim with a trip wire.
Fortunately he'd been opening the door slowly so they'd avoided the brunt of the blast and had gotten away with only minor injuries and the building had taken the explosion well. It wasn't even in danger of collapsing.
In between it had been one failed thing after another. A total loss in confidence in himself. He didn't trust himself to spar with his peers without messing something up anymore with how things were going recently.
Kon had convinced him to come back to the tower. Saying their system needed maintenance and he was the best at keeping their security up to date. He'd also kept saying he missed Tim and wanted to hang out. They all did. So, begrudgingly, Tim joined them at the tower to make sure their software was still good and had no bugs and also to just take some time to see his friends.
Cassie had even gone so far as to turn his phone off for an hour, repeatedly telling him that if he wanted to get out of this funk he needed to take a break. Tim had agreed to an hour. Too many things could go wrong and, break or not, he needed to be available if something happened.
They had no way of knowing.
After some time decompressing and recognizing that sometimes you get in slumps and it was okay they went over some of the details of their last failed mission.
Failure can be an excellent teacher when viewed from the right perspective.
Tim doesn't hear the phone the first few times. What catches his attention is that his phone had fully vibrated itself off the table onto the floor.
The notification tells him Jason had tried five consecutive times to get a hold of Tim. Before he even has a chance to register what this could mean, to acknowledge the pit growing deep in his stomach, the phone lights up again.
"What?"
"You need to get to Gotham General. Now!" Jason's tone is completely off. He sounds frazzled. Jason is never like that. Always cool and annoyingly confident no matter the situation.
Gotham General was a hospital. Someone was hurt, someone they both knew, and they were obviously hurt bad.
He went through a mental list of different possibilities. Duke was the first to come to mind. He patrolled in the day, he was newer and theoretically more prone to mistakes that could hurt him. But, that didn't feel right. Duke didn't have those kinds of enemies. Not that you always needed them to get hurt. None of the rest of them had any active cases. The girls weren't even in Gotham.
"Who?" Tim finally asks before he completely spirals. He needs to know even when he really doesn't want to know. Knowing makes it real, knowing means he might be able to fix it.
"Dick." Jason answers. "Dick was shot. And it's bad."
He hears something hit the ground at his feet but it's far away. Every single thought has left his head.
This can't be happening. Not this, not him.
Just add it to the list of shit that he's had to deal with recently.
He feels like he can't breathe, that he's drowning.
Tim thinks he hears Cassie saying his name, shaking his shoulder lightly, asking what's wrong. Because something obviously was very wrong.
"Tim?"
He looks up at Cassie, and then past her to Kon who was standing just behind her. Bart is standing at his other side, Tim's phone in his hand, all three ready for whatever Tim is about to say. Like they're needing to get ready for war.
"I- I need-" Tim can barely get his voice above a whisper. He takes several shaky breaths before continuing. "I need to get to Gotham."
"What's going on?" Bart asks him.
Tim simply repeats himself. "I need to go to Gotham."
"Okay, what happened?" Cassie asks more insistently. "Tell us how we can help."
Why weren't they understanding the urgency? Dick could be dying, he needs to be there.
"I need to get to Gotham." Tim's voice turns rough, he can feel panic and tears building.
"Alright, I'll get you to Gotham." Kon concedes. "Do you want me to stay with you?"
Tim shakes his head. "I just need to go. Now. Now, he's dying. I have to be there." He can feel his lips quiver, he can't keep anything bottled up. There's too much.
There's a lot of questions Kon very obviously wants to ask. "Where in Gotham do you need to go?"
"Gotham General. We have to hurry. Kon we need to go."
Kon grips Tim's shoulders firmly. "Okay, okay. Relax. We're going. You'll be there."
Tim feels his stomach lurch as Kon takes him back to Gotham, depositing him just outside the main doors.
"C'mon, who are we looking for?" Kon has a hold of Tim's wrist, gently tugging to go inside.
But Tim feels like his feet are nailed to the ground.
He needs more information. What Jason told him wasn't enough. What if Dick is already dead, what if he'd died alone? He doesn't know who's here. He doesn't know where Dick is in the godforsaken building.
Tim can feel bile building in his throat.
"Tim. Stay with me." Kon's tone is grounding. "Someone is hurt and needs you here. Who is it? We need to find them."
"I can't." Tim admits, his voice shaky.
Kon's eyebrow furrows with confusion. "What do you mean 'you can't'?"
"I can't lose anyone else."
"Tim, he needs you in there."
Tim blinks. "I can't help him."
"He just needs you with him." Kon nudges him a little closer to the door.
Tim glances back. "Just, stay here. I'll- I'll be fine."
Kon is not convinced, even a little bit, but he stays back. He waits.
It had been worse than they'd thought. But also, not.
Dick had been spared death by almost a hair's breadth. Lucky him. The road to recovery however was not very clear.
Getting shot in the chest wasn't a picnic.
Damian was constantly kicking himself, running himself ragged. Claiming the whole thing had been his fault. As details surfaced it just became more and more clear that couldn't be further from the truth. The main sore spot for him, for all of them really, the shooter was still out there. Being able to walk free, no consequences, despite shooting up a convenience store and nearly killing Dick.
When they'd been told Dick would live Tim let out a breath he hadn't even been aware he'd been holding.
It still takes Tim a while to go see Dick. He doesn't leave the hospital very often but he can't get past the waiting room. Everyone keeps telling him to but he can't. It feels every kind of wrong to see Dick in that state. Completely and totally helpless.
Dick was not helpless, the opposite. Tim had always been able to rely on him for just about anything, and now, now he can't
Tim had almost called Dick at one point, to talk, before remembering he couldn't.
Finally, when Tim is able to drag himself down the hall he stands in the doorway. It was just him here. Bruce and Damian had been forced home and Jason was helping Alfred keep them there temporarily. Cass and Steph had reluctantly returned to their mission while Barbara would attempt to do her part remotely wanting to stay available.
It was the first time he'd seen Dick in days. The last time they'd seen each other Dick had noted the rut Tim found himself in saying, very adamantly, that he was going to help out. Tim would love to know what Dick's plan would've been. He'd love nothing more in this moment than for Dick to wake up and fill the air with useless chatter. Cause then, then he'd be okay, and Tim would know that he's okay.
But he isn't. He just lays there. With too many tubes and wires attached, his skin gray almost porcelain, his breaths too measured from the machines, his face void of any and every emotion. He was a husk. And Tim hated the site.
He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Should he hold Dick's hand like Barbara, should he fill the air with stories and memories like Jason, or reassurances like Damian, should he just sit nearby like Duke and Cass, make promises like Steph had been, or should he stand guard like Bruce always does.
A memory entered his mind. One he didn't like, he remembered his father when he'd been in a similar situation. Hurt and unable to take care of himself. Tim had stood next to his bed then unsure of his place, of what he was supposed to do.
Dick had been there then. Dick had somehow known to show up, he'd made sure Tim had understood he wasn't alone. That he'd never be alone. Tim didn't feel like he would be alone if Dick died. He had more family and friends now than he had during that time. But the support he'd grown accustomed to would change drastically.
Tim feels his knees weaken. Before he can register the flood of new emotions, the overwhelmingness of everything before combined with now. He sobbed, almost uncontrollably. He buries his face in the blanket on Dick's bed.
This was beyond unfair.
His brother didn't deserve this. Not this brother.
Tim needed him here, he needed to talk to Dick. Needed to Dick to card his fingers through Tim's hair and provide reassurances like he always did. He needed Dick to envelope him in one of his hugs that was always tight, warm and secure. He needed Dick to make the dumbest most worst joke he'd ever heard in his life that Tim always laughed at.
He isn't sure how long he kneeled there. All his strength sapped out of him. Tim wonders what Dick might say if he were to wake up right now.
Eventually he turns his head just enough to look up at Dick.
He chuckles wetly. "If you think this is how you get out of all this you've got another thing coming. Just ask Jason."
He finally pulls himself off of the floor and settles in a nearby chair and grips Dick's still warm hand.
"You're alive. So you stay that way." Tim continues. "I will not let you leave me alone with Damian."
He could almost imagine the amused sound Dick would make at that comment. He'd probably say something along the lines of You and Damian would be fine or Damian isn't that bad or You've still got Jason.
He takes his fingers and presses firmly on the inside of Dick wrist. He can feel the pulse. It's strong and present.
Nothing can really knock Dick Grayson down for long.
If nothing else, Dick is incredibly resilient and insanely stubborn. If he said he was going to do something he was going to do it, logic be damned. Once he was awake his sole focus was to become independent again. He was up and walking around long before they expected him, able to pretty much do everything before they anticipated.
Before long it was like nothing ever happened.
Dick even commented that he'd been shot before so it was just easier to get over it the more it happened, much to the horror of anyone listening who wasn't used to how Dick was.
Tim sat with Dick in a much more somber moment. Feeling there were things he needed to say to the elder.
"You know that was really scary." Tim admits, not bothering to mask a single emotion he felt. "It was like what happened to my dad all over again. You didn't just show up with the perfect thing to say."
"I don't always know what to say." Dick jokes lightly before sucking in a breath. "It was scary for me too."
Tim looked up at him, there was no indication what Dick had said was a lie. "I don't think you should do that again."
Dick smiles. "Uh, yeah, this was not fun. Do not recommend. But I did get some pretty gnarly scars out of it so…"
Tim scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I don't think 'gnarly scars' really evens it out."
"Girls love a guy who's been a little roughed up."
"Yeah but it's all on your chest, it's not like they can see it."
"You're right." Dick nods, before snapping his fingers at a solution. "I need to get shot in the face next time."
"No no. No, that's not a good idea." Tim immediately counters, despite knowing Dick was very obviously kidding. "In all seriousness. I am so glad that you're okay."
The smile Dick gives him warms Tim inside and out. "Me too kiddo. Me too."
And for tomorrow we'll get Jason's perspective on this. Happy Wednesday!