Have you ever had a panic attack? I have. I'm a very private person, so I usually keep them to myself. Under the tutelage of the Batman, it became normal to hide my emotions from others, because I was by no means as emotionally stunted as the Batman. I guess it's not possible to keep it hidden forever though.
It started out as a relatively normal dinner, even if I had been planning on eating in my room, but was instead forced to sit at the table. Dick had called a family meeting. With Bruce off world and Alfred on a trip to England, it left us four boys in the manor alone, and Dick obviously had a patrol plan. This meeting was supposed to be last night, but obviously it didn't happen.
I really didn't need the meeting tonight. There is a huge, very important Wayne Enterprises meeting in the morning that I have to be prepared for. Not to mention the Drug ring case I've been working is going to come to a head tonight. I really need to work on the presentation before I leave for patrol. Not to mention I still have to call Tam and discuss the details, and my coffee machine is broken, so I need a replacement because I certainly won't be sleeping tonight.
I'm sure Dick is talking, discussing patrol routes and stuff, but I'm already ten steps ahead, composing the presentation in my head, worrying about how I'm going to fit it all in. There is certainly too much to fit in tonight.
I glance at my watch, it is already nine, my drug hit is in two hours.
"Tim, are you listening?" Dick asks.
"Yeah," I answer robotically, glancing at my watch again. I still haven't caught up on my reports either.
"Drake is lying, he hasn't been paying attention," Damian snarks, but I ignore it as he goes off whining about Jason and something Dick did last night. I have way more important things to think about, like the plan for the drug bust tonight, the presentation, the coffee machine, the reports for WE and patrol, and when was the last time I slept?
"Drake has been really selfish lately. He hasn't spoken to anyone in days and he's being completely ignorant of this important meeting to discuss routes tonight because Richard asked him to do something and he just nodded his head without paying attention to the instructions. Not to mention he's been awful inconsiderate of everyone else, he did push me down the stairs today and full on tackle me in the hall yesterday, then get up without even a sorry, shutting the door in my face when I tried to pursue him," he complains, and I heard every word.
To be fair, all of those things were accidents, I was too busy worrying about the gas leak in Research and Development to notice. I really should have apologised to him though. I really should apologise now.
"I.." I pipe up for the first time tonight, "I… Dami…I'm sorry… I," why can't I speak and worse, why are there tears dripping down my face, "I.. It was an accident….I…I…" Why am I gasping. Why can't I breathe?
I look up, not even realising I have been looking down the whole time I was talking, and Jason is staring at me with worry. I try to call to him, but my voice catches in my throat and I keep gasping. I need to breathe. Breathe Tim, breathe. I can't. I can't breathe. Why can't I breathe? No I just have to breathe. Deep breath. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't. I'm going to hyperventilate.
When I look up for help, Dick is running around like a headless chook shouting something about coffee. Damian is on his feet and backing away telling Dick how to make the coffee.
To my surprise, something large and warm wraps around my knee. I look to the side, Jason has slipped into the seat beside me.
He rubs my knee, "Hey Timmy, how're you going? Having a rough day, huh?"
I keep gasping, nodding my head vaguely and I know I'm staring at Jason with wide, fearful eyes. I can't breathe. My chest is so tight and painful that I can't breathe. I need help. Why can't I breathe.
"So, Tim, did you know that this sitting position, is actually quite anxiety inducing. You're trapping in your emotions and closing off yourself. You know there are such things as power poses.."
I know that. I'm not stupid, but I can't tell him that right now because I can't breathe.
"You know that stereotypical Wonder Woman pose, that's a power pose. It releases good endorphins and boosts your self-esteem. You should give it a go, Tim," Jason encourages.
I shake my head.
"I'll do it with you. Sometime, up on the roof top of WE, just you and me, showing up Wonder Woman. Red Hood and Red Robin bursting with self-esteem and getting some nice Instagram pics while we're at it. It will look awesome!" he informs rubbing his hand back and forth over my knee, "So, shall I crash your patrol tonight? We can do each other's routes together, then whatever you were planning to do tonight, we can hit up together. So what were you doing?"
"Durg…drug…bust," I muttered.
"Great. I love drug busts. Are they selling to kids?"
"Ye…yeah," I nod.
"Oh excellent, I love it when they're selling to kids. Gets me real pumped. You pumped Timmy?"
"Yeah," I smile at him.
"See, you're doing great, Tim, and I see you're breathing now, that's great. It really helps if you can breathe on patrol,"
"Yeah," I breathe out a shuddery sigh.
"Here, Timmy, coffee," Dick slides a cup in front of me.
"Thanks," I take the cup, lifting the warm mug to my lips to take a sip of the warm relieving liquid. I really needed that.
"So Tim, what can we help you with tonight?" Jason offers, providing a genuine smile.
I guess it wasn't so bad to let others help me occasionally.