A/N Wow guys! 39 reviews! I could cry ;^; This chapter, I think, is awesome! And I know I kind of upset people with how I wrote/treated Tim, so I tried to fix that here...Let me know what you think! :)

Machines beeped viciously, wheels skid across the floor, and the snap of rubber gloves bustled around the room. Panic sat heavily in the air, and hearts beat frantically.

When Dick had arrived with Damian, the sight was almost too much. He lay limp across Dick's arms, almost too limp, his suit torn, and covered in black char from the explosion.
Jason sat on a gurney, his arm in a sling, a black eye on the right side of his face. His eyes landed on Damian, and he jumped off the wheeled bed, cursing and kicking what he could along his path upstairs to the Manor.
Ignoring his fit, Dick ran over to Alfred, laying the boy down.
Alfred sprung immediatley into action, something Dick had thought he had seen before, but apparently not.

He pulled up his sleeves, and tore Damian's shirt off, exposing the boys chest. He pressed lightly down his ribs, and immediatley turned to his supply table, grabbing a needle. He pressed down on Damian's inner elbow with one hand and tore off the cap of the needle with his mouth before jabbing the needle in the boys arm. He plunged down on the needle, forcing the liquid into the boys vains.
Hopefully thinking, Dick had childshy hoped that whatever Alfred injected him with would wake him up, and he'd be okay, and they could go and kick Scarecrow's ass together, but Damian didn't even move.
Alfred looked up at Dick, his eyes big.

"Master Richard,", he breathed, "I know you'd rather stay, and do what you could for Master Damian, but right now he needs more help than I can provide, and I have on the way, and we're going to need all the space required. I implore you to see how your siblings are handling the whole situation."

Dick nodded, looking down at Damian. Despite the wounds on his face, he looked so peaceful. A calm lay across his face that he had never seen before. Reluctantly nodded, taking one more look at his younger sibling.
If Leslie was coming, then Dick knew it was bad...but she was a good doctor, a great doctor, and if anyone was going to help Damian, it would be her.

Checking the upstairs for Jason and Tim, he couldn't find Jason at all. He had guessed that he had left during his rage fit, no doubt blaming himself for getting caught in the explosion.
Dick sighed and tried looking for Tim. He tried all the usual places, and finally ended up at Tim's door.
He knocked several times, and when he didn't answer, he tried opening the door, but it was locked. Dick took the hint, and moped his way downstairs into the main living room.
He sat on the couch and bounced his legs uneasily, his head in his hands.

There was nothing he could do but wait, and he hated waiting.
What if Damian died?
Surely he'd never be the same...how was he going to live like that? How was he supposed to live like that?
It wasn't fair.
He had spent his whole life fighting to prove himself, he had been raised by assassins, and a real bitch of a mother who literally had him born to be the perfect thing to ruin Batman, he was a ploy. His whole life was a ploy. No ten year old should have to live with that. Yet, he did.

He came to Wayne Manor for a better life, a good life, and Dick failed him. He wasn't careful enough. He should have known the minute Damian had wordlessly been absent from breakfast, but he hadn't. He brushed it off, like always. He was too careless, and this time it cost him more than he could bare to lose.
His brother.
His Robin.
His son.
Tears pricking at his eyes, Dick punched the small coffee stand adjacent to him.

"Dick...?"

The voice was small and scared, and when he looked up he wasn't exactly surprised to see Tim.
He wore a loose pair of jogging pants, and a plain t-shirt, and looked as though he'd been crying. Dick wiped away his own tears, and opened his arms up to his younger brother. Tim practically ran into Dick's arms, collapsing into a fit of sobs as Dick wrapped his arms around him and held him close.

"Shh,", he cooed, "It's okay Tim, everything will be okay."

The boy sobbed, and clutched to the back of Dick's shirt, everything just pouring out.

"N-No it-it's not,", he sobbed, "I-I'm sorry a-about everything, an-and if Damian dies he'll think I hated him b-but I didn't Dick, honest, I didn't hate him."

"I know, Timmy...I know.."

"A-And I'm s-sorry about fighting w-with Jason, and I-oh god, Dick, I-I'm sorry."

Dick kissed the top of his head, rocking him slowly, like his mother used to do when he was a kid.

"No Tim, don't apologize for that. I was a sucky big brother back there. I should have stood up to you. Just with Damian...No, no excuses, I'm sorry Tim. And I'm sure Damian will be okay, he's a tough kid, and Leslie is down there with Alfred as we speak working on Little D."

A sudden clearing of the throat caused the two boys to break their brotherly bond, and turned to their attention to Leslie and Alfred who stood grimly in the living room entrance.
The looks on their faces drove a whole new dread through Dick, who clutched at Tim.

"He's alive.", Leslie started, "But honestly, I don't know how."

Leslie was an older woman, who had apparently gone way back with Thomas Wayne, and had become extremely close with the BatFamily, but she was a strong woman; blunt and to the point.

"What that Scarecrow guy did to him was enough to give a grown man a stroke, and I wouldn't be surprised if the kid needed a transplant before he turned twenty. He was severly dehydrated and his blood pressure is through the roof. The explosion certainly didn't help either. He has third degree burns across his stomach, Alfred know's how to adress them until he heals, and if it doesn't heal by the next time I come by, he'll need a skin graph, his left lung had collapsed, his collarbone fractured, his left leg is broken, and I haven't even seen the mental trauma caused by this nutcase. He's resting now, and I honestly cannot say when he'll regain conciousness, but when he does, give me a call."

She didn't wait for any kind of word, and silently showed herself out.
Tim started to cry again, and Alfred sat himself down, his white dress shirt covered in patches off blood.

Dick forced a smile.

"It'll be okay...Dami will pull through, and he'll be okay,", he tried.

But even at this point, he knew it was a long shot.

A/N *gross sobbing* adlafnla/fnha So yeah. Lots of feels, and so many more feels to come! I tried to check out effects of explosions, but sadly, words like 'Hemotympanum without perforation' make no sense to me, so I'm gonna do what I can with what I've learned from stuff like Grey's Anatomy, ER, and other things XD So please forgive me for any inaccuarcies!
Please review, and feedback and suggestions are more than welcome! :D