The distinct sound of hushed voices registers only a moment before the realization that this room is far brighter than the one that he remembers passing out in. Tim doesn't understand what that implies at first, but then he recognizes the feeling of soft sheets, the pliant mattress, and plush pillows underneath him. He has no idea why they bothered to move him out of the cave and upstairs, but Tim has certainly awoken in worse places.

He keeps his eyes closed, to avoid straining them with the light, and tries to focus on the murmured voices. Tim can discern Dick's voice almost immediately, but he's nearly caught off guard by the realization that Roy is with him. Tim lies still and keeps his breathing even as he listens. "Look, Dick, this isn't your fault, and Red wouldn't want you to blame yourself."

"No, you don't understand." Tim can hear Dick pacing, but it takes him a moment to realize that the reason his gait sounds so odd is due to the fact that Dick is walking around on his hands instead of his feet. Tim would smile if he couldn't practically feel the tension in the air. "This is definitely my fault. I'm the reason that he got stabbed in the first place, and now I've exasperated his condition. He should hate me. I know I do."

Tim's relieved that he's propped up on so many pillows. The idea of having to force himself into a sitting position makes his chest burn. He blinks his eyes open, and then instantaneously groans at the sunlight streaming through the large window. "I don't hate you and you shouldn't either." Speaking is a bit more arduous than Tim anticipated, but it's also a necessary evil if Dick is going to insist on brooding like this.

They both rush over to his bedside, and Tim is extremely grateful that Roy stops Dick from leaping on top of him. Though, Tim does have to admit that he is genuinely stunned when both of them grab a hold of his hand. "How are you feeling?" Dick's clutching onto him as if he's some kind of lifeline.

"Do you need anything?" The two of them are speaking over each other and Roy's voice is dripping with a desperation that Tim, quite frankly, doesn't understand. His condition shouldn't have scared them this much. After all, it's an occupational hazard.

Tim works himself up to respond while he simultaneously attempts to process their fussing. He's starting to wonder if he wants to ask how long he's been unconscious or how far his recovery has been pushed back. However, with the expression on both of their faces, he figures that there are more pressing matters to deal with first.

After all, Tim's certain that he can ask Alfred all of those questions later. Besides, it's not as though the answers will change anything. He knows that he's going to be stuck on bed rest for some time, and then monitored for the duration of his recovery as he slowly works up to his normal amount of activity again… no matter how inconvenient it will be.

"I'm okay for right now." Tim refrains from taking a deep breath, knowing exactly how much pain that will cause him. "Not that I'm ungrateful for the concern, but what is Red Arrow doing here?"

Roy rolls his eyes as he pulls a chair over to sit down. "You can drop the codename. I already know that you know my name, and I think we've grown close enough that you can use it, and maybe give me yours." He gives Tim a hopeful look, which Tim pointedly ignores. Roy doesn't push it, but Tim honestly wonders how long he can get away with keeping that particular secret. "Anyway," Roy starts again before Tim can say anything on the matter. "I just wanted to check on you and Dick, so I did what any reasonable vigilante would do and put my skills to work."

"By which, he means he tried to sneak past our security and I had to talk Bruce into letting him stay." Dick grins mischievously and gently nudges Tim. He knows that it most likely means that Bruce had every intention of letting Roy stay either way, but that only baffles Tim more. Everything that he's learned about this Bruce has left him with so many questions about his own in regards to when Dick was younger. However, most of them are questions that he's not entirely certain that the answers are necessarily something that he wants.

"Well, I'm glad that you're here, Roy." It feels weird to say the name out loud after so long, but Tim does have to admit it gives him a sense of normalcy after everything that has happened. "I was hoping we could discuss Superboy's training some more. I don't want the team suffering just because I'm grounded, and I really need someone to encourage Superman to actively help out a bit more."

Roy shakes his head. "I've got that handled. Black Canary and I are working with the whole team, so you don't need to worry about it. Superman has been making real strides toward helping Superboy, and the entire team has been training even harder since your injury. They'll all be just fine until you get back on your feet, so the only thing that you should be doing is resting and healing."

Tim wants to argue that he's not exactly adept at simply resting. After all, there's still plenty that needs to be done, but he already knows no one in this room is going to listen. He glances over at Dick, who has been suspiciously quiet for the last couple of minutes, and notices that the boy seems abruptly rather sheepish. Tim narrows his eyes as he stares the boy down. He has a feeling that he's not going to like whatever Dick has been reluctant to share. "What's up, Dick?"

Dick immediately begins nervously rubbing the back of his head as he shifts from one foot to the other and back again. "So… um… I… uh… I wanted to tell you something. I kinda enlisted Roy's help with our other project."

Tim doesn't know how to react at first. There's a moment when he just freezes while desperately trying to figure out why Dick would enlist anyone's help with Jason, especially after Tim explicitly told him not to involve anyone else. "Why?" It's the only thing that Tim can force out past the mounting rage and dread, even though there are about a thousand other things that he wants to say. However, Tim is well aware that what he's thinking is rather unhelpful at the moment.

Roy tightens his hold on Tim even more as he all but shoves Dick to the side. "It wasn't his fault. I wanted to know the full details about what had happened to you, so I tracked Dick down last night while he was in the middle of addressing your little side project. It wasn't easy, I might add, but… well, I know Dick pretty well. Anyway, after he left, I sorta insisted that he fill me in. I don't know all of the details, but I'm willing to help."

Dick stares at him wide-eyed and pleading. It's an expression Tim usually only sees his own brother utilize when he's trying to steal Tim's food. It's a little jarring to see it now. "Don't be mad at, Roy. It's my fault. I should have been more careful."

Tim breathes a heavy sigh and suppresses the wince from the action. Dick's right, of course, he should have been more careful. After all, they're both rather lucky that it was Roy who caught Dick while he was meeting with Jason, especially considering all of the other possibilities. Tim has a feeling that none of Dick's actual team members would simply just go along with his plan, even if Tim has done nothing but help all of them since he arrived here. Not to mention, the last thing that they need is Batman's attention.

Still, Tim is rather grateful that Roy is willing to help them. After all, he may just be the perfect person for the task. "I'm… I'm not mad. I was just concerned, given the circumstances. However, I think Roy's assistance will be instrumental in our ability to move forward. After all, I think having a way to get information to and from the source without either of us being involved may be the best way to operate for the time being, especially given the current circumstances." Tim gestures widely at himself, before continuing. "That is, of course, if you're willing, Roy."

Roy simply shrugs. "I already said that I was, didn't I?"

Tim smiles a genuine grin for the first time in what feels like forever. Finally, something seems to be going his way. "Okay, so if you can make visits to our mutual friend in my place, it'll give him even more support and take some of the responsibility off of Dick's shoulders. Remember staying off the grid is our top priority here, so if you two can get me some hardware I can make us a few communication devices that aren't connected to certain sources."

Roy stares at him for a long moment before shaking his head. "That sounds suspiciously like work, and I really don't think that any kind of work is good for you right now. I believe multiple people have emphasized how much you need to rest. I may not know you exceedingly well yet, but everything I do know has led me to believe that actually resting is not your specialty."

Tim restrains himself from rolling his eyes. "I assure you, giving me something to do that is constructive is in everyone's best interest if you actually want me to take it easy."

Dick and Roy glance at each other before Dick shrugs. "He was raised by a Bruce. Maybe it is for the best."

Roy rolls his eyes before nodding. "Fine, fine, I've seen enough to know that he'll probably just sneak out and injure himself worse, given that he doesn't exactly take actual breaks back at HQ."

Tim wants to argue. He really does, but he also knows that he doesn't exactly have any supporting evidence that won't work against him here. "No reason to risk it, honestly."

They both just kind of stare blankly at him before shaking their heads and Roy raises an eyebrow at him. "Shouldn't you at least pretend to disagree with us?"

Tim shrugs. "Would either of you believe me?"

Neither of them hesitates before answering. "Absolutely not."

They break into laughter before Roy declares that now that Tim is awake they're going to have a movie marathon. Tim doesn't even get a chance to object before the other two are rushing around getting everything into place and settling themselves down beside him with pillows practically suffocating him on all sides to keep him from jostling his injured chest. It's warm… nearly too warm, but Tim finds that he doesn't actually mind for once.

The break from literally everything - no matter how forced - is actually rather relieving. Tim feels as if he's been going nearly nonstop since long before he landed in this world. He's almost forgotten what it's like to just sit still and be with the people around him without a thousand plans running through his head or a fight brewing just below the surface.

He breathes calmly without having to force himself to merely appear that way for what feels like the first time in ages. It takes Tim a moment to realize that it's not just the forced relaxation that has him leaning just a little heavier into the pillows with a small grin on his face, but the fact that for the first time in so long Tim isn't braced for an attack, another fight, or just desperately trying to fix something that truly has nothing to do with him.

He doesn't know how to feel about the fact that he hasn't felt like this since some time before he became Red Robin. Tim wonders if once he returns home if he'll ever be this relaxed again... that is if he manages to return home. He knows that it's probably unfair to assume that, even if he does make it home, he most likely won't ever capture this feeling again, especially given that it's his fault that he can't be more relaxed back home.

After all, Dick has made great strides with Damian. Tim is utterly certain that their relationship has only strengthened since Tim's disappearance. Not to mention, Tim is well aware that his friends would gladly drag him into a movie night and rant fest if he would just let them, but… well, things like this just always seem out of reach at home.

After all, there's always something to be done. There's always some mission that specifically Tim can do. It's true that, while it may not be a task that only Tim can do, it's usually some undertaking that Tim is more than capable of accomplishing, especially when no one else will do it.

Tim thinks that perhaps he should focus on other less distressing things, especially since the other two are chuckling about something that Tim has completely missed. However, he's honestly too exhausted to force himself to participate right now. Besides, he's certain that the other two haven't even noticed his waning interest.

Still, he's starting to think that perhaps his lack of contribution may be allowed or even anticipated by now. Especially since his lack of enthusiasm doesn't seem to be dampening the other two's enjoyment one bit. Tim's relieved that for once he seems to be able to keep his less than pleasant machinations from disturbing the people around him. It feels as though he's finally managed to do something right, even if Tim knows that he's taking a victory where he doesn't necessarily deserve one.

Abruptly, Tim's thoughts derail when there's a gentle knock on the door. He turns as much as the mountain of pillows around him will allow and spots Bruce slowly pushing the door open while simultaneously carrying a tray laden with various cups and bowls. He honestly was expecting Alfred, given the tenderness of the interruption. It takes every ounce of Tim's training to suppress his bewilderment.

He contemplates what it says about him - or perhaps, what it says about his current situation back home - that Tim's immediate reaction to seeing Bruce is to ponder what he did wrong. He doesn't think that he could have possibly done anything to draw Bruce's attention, and Tim certainly doesn't believe that he could have done something to make Alfred feel as though he needed Bruce's attention, so he has no idea why the man is here.

However, since neither Dick nor Roy seem even mildly surprised to see the man; Tim assumes that he's probably the only one acting peculiar. He supposes Bruce's presence is completely commonplace for everyone else, or, at least, it seems that way. "Good, you're awake." Bruce sounds genuinely happy, which normally would have Tim raising an eyebrow, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out that Tim's normal reactions don't always make sense or even apply in this world. "I brought your medication."

Tim merely nods as Bruce sets the tray down on a nearby desk. At least, he now knows that he wasn't unconscious, nor anticipated to be unconscious, for an unreasonable amount of time. At least, that doesn't seem to be the case if they expect Tim to actually swallow pills.

Bruce hands him a cup with a few very familiar-looking pills in it. Tim stares at it for a long moment before ingesting the medicine. He wonders if Bruce has caught on to the one thing even the team and Black Canary don't know that he's been doing at the HQ for the past two months.

"I presume I don't need to tell you how important it is for you to take all of them, given your lack of a spleen." Bruce gives Tim a very pointed stare as if he expects Tim to argue. He knows that he hasn't exactly made the best impression with this Bruce, but Tim would think by now Bruce is aware that he's not a complete idiot.

Tim nods as Bruce hands him a glass of water. Roy shuts off the movie before Dick turns to him with a wide-eyed expression. "Wait, you don't have a spleen?"

Tim shakes his head, but before he can respond Roy jumps in with another question. "Aren't spleens kind of important?"

Tim shrugs the best that he can without jostling everything. "It's not like I can't live without it, obviously."

"True, but you need to take low-dose antibiotics regularly." Again Bruce is giving him that pointed glare, and Tim suddenly finds himself wanting to insist that he's not a moron.

"I know and I was."

Before Tim can say another word, Bruce takes the now empty glass from him and places a warm bowl of soup in his hands, and gestures for him to eat. "I'm aware. Just know that there's no need to take them from the HQ infirmary, hack the system, and change the automatic refill order, even if it is impressive. I'll get you anything you need. There's no need for all of this secrecy."

Tim wants to laugh, but he knows that none of them would respond well to it, and that includes his own injuries. Still, a Batman - any Batman – claiming that there is no need for secrecy is hilarious. However, before Tim gets a chance to respond Dick and Roy both have a hold on his hands and are shaking him slightly… not enough to hurt, but enough to be noticed. "You were doing what?" Dick's voice sounds absolutely exasperated.

Roy shakes his head. "And I thought I was paranoid. You have friends here, dude. Let us help you."

Tim doesn't think mentioning that he has friends at home who are likely to say the same thing and get the same results would really help his cause right now, even if it is true. Still, their concern is nearly overwhelming, especially Bruce. "Technically, you were getting the antibiotics for me. It was just the most efficient and direct way."

Dick raises an eyebrow at him, skeptically. "Let me get this straight, you think that sneaking into the infirmary, hacking into the system, and keeping the fact that you don't have a spleen to yourself was the most efficient way? Really?"

"Bruce would have just told me to take what I needed from the infirmary, and then changed the amount he was ordering anyway. I just cut out the middle man." Tim honestly doesn't understand what is so complicated about all of this.

Bruce stares at him for a long moment. "What would your Bruce say if he discovered you did this back home?"

Tim furrows his brow in confusion. He's not certain why he's being asked this question or why it's even relevant. "He probably wouldn't say anything, and, if for some reason he did, he would suggest ways I could hack the system faster or compliment how efficiently I did it."

Bruce hums to himself but doesn't say anything more on the subject before assuring both Roy and Dick that there are plenty of snacks on the tray that he brought up with him for both of them. They both scramble over to the tray as Bruce grabs a chair, and then places it beside the bed. "What are we watching?"

Tim doesn't know how to respond. He didn't expect Bruce to stay. He squirms a little, trying to make it look as though he's just trying to get comfortable when Dick decides to answer for him through a mouthful of food. "Whatever you or… um… Red wants, I suppose."

Bruce stares at him with an unreadable expression – one that Tim honestly doesn't recognize and has absolutely no hope of deciphering. "It's your choice, Red."

Tim has a feeling that the man is talking about more than just the movie. Although, he has no idea what Bruce could possibly mean, so instead he merely shrugs and gestures for someone else to pick. "It doesn't matter to me."

Bruce places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently. "Relax."

Tim isn't exactly certain why he feels compelled to actually listen, but he forces his shoulders to loosen up, takes a calming breath, and then sinks a little deeper into the pillows behind him. It doesn't escape his notice that Bruce never actually takes his hand off of Tim's shoulder until Dick passes Bruce a steaming cup. Dick flops onto the bed beside Tim and focuses on the movie Roy picked for them, while Tim desperately tries to ignore the lingering warmth on his shoulder.

XYZXYZ

Over the course of the next week, Roy and Dick visit often and are able to smuggle Tim enough hardware for him to build the communication devices. He honestly expects Bruce or Alfred to catch them at some point, especially with how often they both like to check on him. It's not exactly something that Tim is used to, but he guesses this universe doesn't keep people as busy as his own.

Still, this Alfred and Bruce don't have nearly as much experience with Robins refusing to simply sit in bed and do nothing as his own do. However, it feels a little too easy to simply work with the pieces that he's been given, stow them away when he knows someone is coming, and rest just enough that Alfred doesn't get suspicious about how his healing is progressing. Besides, even if he thinks it might be a little too effortless, Tim is eternally grateful that for once things seem to be working in his favor.

He's also extremely relieved that he was able to convince Roy and Dick to help keep him busy. The mere idea of spending a week in bed doing nothing with minimal time walking around has his skin crawling. Not to mention, knowing that his recovery is going to take a full six to eight weeks has him feeling rather antsy. Tim sighs heavily at the very thought of it as he stashes the finished devices and then lies back once more.

He breathes out a breath of relief that he did when moments later Alfred knocks on the door. "I must say, young sir, you have far greater patience than Master Bruce and Master Dick. I honestly expected to find you trying to sneak out of your room at least once during this week."

Tim merely shrugs and does his best to mask the wince it causes him. "What can I say; I enjoy your company, Alfred. Not to mention, Dick, Roy, and Bruce have all been doing their best to keep me distracted."

Alfred smiles gently at him. "Be that as it may, young sir, I can assure you that such trivial diversions would not be enough to keep Master Bruce and Master Dick from at least one desperate foray into the cave."

Tim nods his head and doesn't mention anything about the fact that, if he thought he could get away with it, that's exactly where he'd be right now. "I know exactly what you mean. My own Alfred has come up with some rather creative ways to keep us in bed."

"Perhaps, young sir, you can divulge some of his more visionary ploys over our chess game, but first you need to take these." Alfred hands him his medicine and gives Tim a rather pointed stare. He doesn't understand why after a week they're still all treating him as though he has to be watched while taking his medicine, but Tim knows better than to argue with any Alfred.

Tim takes the medicine and doesn't even make a show of it, despite how much he may want to. "I don't know if I feel comfortable sharing information that could potentially be used against me." Tim means it as a joke, but… well; he knows he has a propensity of getting into trouble.

Alfred coughs indignantly as he raises a single eyebrow. "I certainly hope you aren't implying that such grievous injuries are going to be a common occurrence while you are here, young sir."

Tim merely shrugs and is immediately reminded why such movements are problematic right now. "You know how it is, Alfred."

Alfred furrows his brow and looks as though there's something he desperately wants to say, but instead he shakes his head and begins helping Tim out of bed. "I believe it would be best to do your exercises now, young sir."

Alfred helps him out of bed, and Tim does a few stretches that won't injure him further. Alfred then assists him with walking around the room before leading him down the hall to where their chess game is already set up and waiting. Tim doesn't feel nearly as winded as the first time that they did this, but he's truly not looking forward to his slow recovery. Once Alfred has him settled down in a well-cushioned chair, he takes his own seat, and they begin the game in a tranquil silence.

The quiet doesn't last long, however, before Alfred clears his throat. "If I may, young sir?" Tim gestures for Alfred to continue. "I'm aware that you told Master Bruce that you are 17."

Tim nods, although he honestly has no idea where Alfred is going with this. "It's true. I am."

Alfred moves one of his pieces and gestures for Tim to take his turn. "I've been thinking, young sir; perhaps we should enroll you in school with Master Dick, once you're healthy, of course."

Tim nearly chokes on air at the mention of school. It's been so long since he's even considered school as more than a distant memory. He quickly makes him move, hoping to divert Alfred's attention slightly. "Oh, um, I'm not in school anymore."

Alfred looks pleasantly surprised. "You graduated already? I must say that is most impressive."

Tim coughs and rubs the back of his head sheepishly as he glances away from Alfred's proud expression. He knows that he doesn't deserve it. Tim never did actually have a conversation with his own Alfred about dropping out, but he's always been rather grateful that he never had to see the disappointment on the man's face.

Tim sighs heavily. It doesn't matter that this is a different Alfred entirely. He knows this conversation is going to break both of their hearts. "I…um… I didn't graduate, actually. My senior year didn't exactly go as planned. There was an important mission that required my full attention, so I dropped out."

Alfred drops the piece he was about to move and just stares at Tim horrified for a moment. "How could your Master Bruce or my counterpart allow the mission to take precedence over your schooling? What were they thinking?"

Tim clears his throat and does his best not to make eye contact with Alfred. "Well, Bruce was missing and I left to go find him, and then sometime later I became an emancipated minor, so there wasn't much either one of them could do at that point."

Alfred looks as if he truly wants to argue, but he simply resumes moving his bishop. "I assume you have your GED, then."

Tim shakes his head and resists the urge to sink further into his seat. He never thought disappointing another Alfred would hurt this much, but if Tim has learned anything from his time here, it's that it doesn't matter who he's displeasing, it's always just as agonizing. "There really wasn't the time or a need. When I returned a new CEO was needed and… long story short, I was available."

"And Lucius agreed with this?"

Tim shrugs and ignores the pain that it causes him. After all, it's nothing in comparison to this entire conversation. "Um…well, it was his idea. I mean, it was kind of time-sensitive."

Alfred hums a noncommittal tone. "I take it from your general attitude that you have no intention of either returning to school or getting your GED when you return home, then?"

Tim glances away once more. He's fairly certain that he's not imagining the disapproving tone. "Honestly, assuming I can find a way back home, I'm not sure there's really a point to wasting my time. I'm fully capable of accomplishing everything I need to without it."

Alfred raises an eyebrow at him. "And what of the desires that you wish to achieve beyond what you need to accomplish?"

Tim doesn't know if he necessarily has an answer to that. It's been so long since he's even considered his own desires beyond what's necessary that he's not entirely certain that he even knows what he wants. He knows that he should focus on returning home. He knows that it's not fair to simply abandon everyone and everything, but Tim doesn't know if that's what he necessarily wishes.

"I'm sure I can accomplish most things without it." Tim knows that Alfred understands what it means for him to be this evasive, but he hopes Alfred will simply let it go. After all, how can Alfred be certain pursuing this line of questioning will be advantageous when Tim doesn't even know if he has a response beyond vague retorts?

Tim isn't sure if he's relieved that Alfred does leave it there, because the rest of their game is finished in quite tense silence. When Tim returns to the room he's staying in, he doesn't need to feign exhaustion as Alfred slowly lowers him down on fresh sheets. A part of him wants to apologize, although he doesn't know why. After all, this isn't the Alfred that he needs to be apologizing to.

Still, Tim can't help it. As he slumps further into the pillows propping him up, Tim mutters out the only thing that he can think at this moment. "I'm sorry for not being more."

His eyes are heavy, but he sees the way Alfred clutches the covers he's trying to pull over Tim. There's the sound of hitched breathing, but whether that's Alfred's or Tim's own breathing from jostling his chest, Tim will never know. He's asleep before Alfred can say another word.

The End (for now)