"Nothing happening on that street,"
Tim says to Cass, nodding his head towards 4th Avenue while leaning lazily on his bo-staff like it's a cane. The night was clear, a rarity for Gotham. It was, dare he say, pleasant. On the rooftop, he surveyed the streets below. It seemed as if the city itself had calmed, as they had barely stopped any crime that night. He himself had only curbed three muggings and a couple of other petty crimes so far, and it had already been two hours. So he and Cass had met up again, patrolling around loosely together. One would cover one street and the other would take the opposite side. It was a simple, laid-back approach to patrol. It was nice.
He liked it when patrol was like that. His life was one big firework show, you think everything that could happen has already gone off and ended, but then another bang and the sky is lit up red and green once more. Blinding, roaring, and life-changing. So the time in between the fireworks, that calm anticipation, he was on edge but simultaneously at peace. A contradiction but a truth.
Of course, the next firework is always going to be set off. That was another truth.
His comm crackled to life.
"Guess what me and Dami found,"
Steph chirped over the comm. He could tell she was smirking just through her voice.
"No names on the field, Spoiler."
Tim rolled his eyes at his brother's voice, while Cass smiled, amused. He ignored him and instead chose to groan while leaning his head back to look at the sky.
"That's right, we found Black Mask's new operation! You know what that means."
"... Next week,"
Tim spat out, which Steph cackled at. He rolled his eyes, only half-kidding, as he pouted when even Cass giggled at him. He and Steph had bet on who would find Black Mask first, the loser having to wear whatever the other made them for a day and go about their normal routine. His body shuddered, imagining what he'd be wearing at a company meeting in a week. Nothing good, he gathered, as Steph continued to snicker. He could only imagine the face Damian was making.
He needed to correct his earlier opinion.
The night HAD been pleasant.
Nothing stayed pleasant in Gotham.
"Guys, Robin he-"
"Spoiler? What happened?"
Tim stood over an unconscious criminal as he tried to listen to Steph. It had only been 15 minutes since she had last updated them on Black Mask's warehouse, she and Damian listing off an impressive variety of drugs in the crates. Tim and Cass had been making their way over to the location, occasionally stopping to impede an ongoing crime. He had just knocked out a would-be mugger when Steph had called out over the comm. Now he pushed the comm further into his ear, confused as to what Steph was talking about so distressed.
"He protected me, Black Mask found us. I got away, but they got him, I think they shot him too, I heard a gunshot go off-"
"Spoiler, do you know where he is currently?"
Bruce interjects brusquely, stopping her from working herself up even more.
"I honestly have no idea, a bunch of different cars just left the warehouse. I'm like a block away. I don't know which one he could be in, or if they even took him."
Tim bites his lip, crossing his arms in thought. That definitely wasn't good.
"I'll try to track him right now,"
Barbara says, the clacking sound of her typing into her computer in the background. He steps over the man on the ground (who was groaning slightly), leaving him to lay there as he grapples back up onto a roof. He and Cass continue on course to the warehouse, quietly waiting for any other information.
"His main tracker's down."
"What about the second one?"
Bruce rumbles.
More clacking comes in over the comm, and then Barbara's concerning reply.
"... It's at the cave."
Tim almost laughs. Damian, who loved to brag about how competent he was, had forgotten his backup tracker? In most other circumstances, he would lord that over him immediately. Unfortunately, Damian's comm had been broken at the same time as his tracker, preventing Tim from teasing him.
Bruce's sigh is the only noise in the night.
Tim crept through the building noiselessly, breathing slowly. He peeked around corners, making his way up the floors carefully. It freaked him out, the dusty, abandoned office furniture lying haphazardly on the floor, giving the whole building an ominous feel. Tim felt like he was in some crappy horror movie.
It had been about three hours since Steph had called in Damian's disappearance. With each passing hour, their concern mounted. All of them had been kidnapped at some point, in both civilian and vigilante form. Both had their advantages and disadvantages. If you were a civilian, you couldn't fight back, you weren't supposed to know how. But the advantage with that was the kidnapper was on average much less aggressive, it was likely a kidnapping for ransom, and it was unlikely serious harm would befall you. When kidnapped as a vigilante, it was usually due to some sort of grudge.
You got hurt a lot more as a vigilante.
They had narrowed Damian's location down to a few buildings around Gotham. Having already searched the others, or currently, in the process of searching, it was very possible that Damian was in the building. Tim wasn't so sure, though. It had taken them a while to get through the locations, enough time for him to have been moved. He quietly wished Dick or Jason was in town to help out. But Dick was in Blüdhaven and Jason was god knows where with the Outlaws, so he was just grateful Cass was there to help out and not on a mission of her own.
He made his way up another flight of stairs, entering the fourth floor. He was skeptical that anyone was in the building, as there hadn't even been any cars nearby. There hadn't been anyone he had run into, either, making his suspicion grow.
A scream echoes through the floor, shattering any doubts he may have had.
He freezes.
Adrenaline pumps through him, taking effect faster than any Fear Gas ever had. He sprints, uncaring of how much noise he is probably making. Dashing around corners, he almost trips over old wires as he enters a dark hallway. A door at the end with light creeping out at the bottom is the only reason the hall isn't pitch black. His breathing is heavy as he rushes to the door, knocking over a crate on his way over.
It would be reckless to just barge in. He didn't even know who was in there, just that Damian was probably injured. In all the time he had known his little brother, Damian never let out any hint he was hurt unless he couldn't hide it. He'd rather let himself walk on a broken foot than admit injury. So hearing him scream like that made Tim fear the worst. He felt a surge of anger coursing through him, mixed strongly with fear.
Which led to him making the decision to break down the door.
He drove the heel of his foot into the door, right by the keyhole, and put all of his body weight into it. The door crashed open, swinging and slamming into the wall. He quickly sweeps his gaze over the room, taking in the scene.
Two men were standing around 10 feet back from the door, looking startled. Black Mask was behind them, blocking Tim's view from whatever he was standing over. His right hand curled around a large knife, its shine dulled by the red coating it. He takes a step toward Tim, moving slightly, allowing Tim to see what is behind him. He sucks in a breath.
There, Damian sat hunched over, tied to a chair. He shakily lifted his head, staring up at Tim, his whole body faintly trembling. His once slicked-back hair was disheveled, strands falling down, framing his bloodied face. He looked so… small. Like the little kid, he was supposed to be, not the deadly assassin he often prided himself in portraying.
A cool anger washed over him.
"Another bat? Swear to god, you guys are just crawling all over…"
Black Mask's deep voice remarks, his attention shifting solely towards Tim. Tim straightens his stance, glancing once more at Damian. His breathing is unsteady, and worryingly fast. Tim grips his bo-staff, extending it out as he stares down the three men. It's a stand-off for a few seconds, with neither party moving. Suddenly, the two henchmen lunge forward at him.
He lets his instinct carry him, dodging their hands. They stumble into the space he once occupied, and he uses their momentum to shove them both forward, into the wall. When they crash into it, before they can get up again, he hits them both in the temple with his bo-staff. They slump down, falling wordlessly to the ground. He's tempted to kick them too, but before he can, Damian rasps,
"Red Robin-"
Turning towards him immediately, he's greeted by a fist flying towards his face. He narrowly avoids it, jumping back just in time. Black Mask hits the wall instead, putting a hole through the cheap drywall. He turns his head to him, his mask, staring him down. Pulling his hand out of the drywall, he shakes it off as he advances towards him again. Tim swings his staff at him again, and Black Mask takes the hit in his arm.
It's almost like a dance in how they fight, both dodging punches and taking hits. He can tell he'll be pretty bruised after this. When Black Mask manages to get a hit to his cheek, forcing Tim to turn his head with the punch, he makes eye contact with Damian. The amount of blood on his suit re-sparks Tim's anger, and with the new surge of energy, he grabs Black Mask's extended arm. He twists it harshly while pushing it down with his other hand, snapping it. The man cries out in pain, distracted enough to where Tim is able to grab his shoulders and pull while kicking his leg out from under him, causing him to fall. Tim stomps his foot down on his chest, pointing his bow staff at the man's face.
"Get- *cough* your damn foot OFF ME!"
Tim looks down at the man coolly. He leans down and puts even more weight on his foot.
"Don't TOUCH Robin again, got it?"
Tim growls.
Black Mask starts laughing, though with so much pressure on his chest, it just comes out more as a wheeze. Tim's face remains serious.
"You think you're scary or something, kid? I'll do whatever the fuck I want. Robin ain't looking too hot, took you a while, huh? Should've seen him, the little bastard was getting all teary from a couple of punches-"
His taunting is cut off as Tim hits him in the jaw, knocking him out. He's shaking in his rage, feeling similar to how Jason must feel all the time.
"Drake…"
Immediately, he steps off Black Mask, running over to Damian.
"Hey hey hey, come on, you're gonna be fine, it'll be fine-"
Tim rambles at Damian, kneeling in front of him as he cuts the rope off behind him, his hands shaking. The fact Damian hadn't remembered to call him by his alias was concerning, as he was usually a stickler for that sort of thing. Tim makes a split-second decision and reaches into his pocket, pulling out the glue dissolvent. He puts it by Damian's mask, managing to carefully peel it off. Damian looks at him with glassy eyes, confusion radiating off of him. Tim puts a hand on Damian's abdomen wound, which was currently leaking a concerning volume of blood. With the other, he hits his comm, tuning back into the channel.
Bruce's low voice rumbles in his ear.
"Red Robin? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, but I found Robin, and he's- he's pretty injured. Someone's gonna have to bring the Batmobile over so we can transport him to the cave, the med room needs to be ready too. We're on the fourth floor."
"Got it. Orphan and I are heading over right now."
Tim hums in acknowledgment focused on keeping pressure on the wound while assessing the boy's many injuries.
Steph chimes in over the comm,
"Hey, he's gonna be alright, okay?"
His mouth twists into a strained smile.
"Yeah. I know."
Damian coughs and the blood dribbling down his chin mixes with the sweat falling from his forehead. Tim grimaces, noticing Damian's skin growing paler.
"Damian, I'm gonna have to move you. You're going into shock, likely from blood loss."
"No,"
He responds, his voice trembling. Tim feels a flash of irritation. Damian was bleeding out and probably dying, and yet he still was trying to fight with him. He snaps back at him.
"No? Damian, I don't think you have much of a choice, you need more circulation-"
"... Ribs, they're-"
He coughs again, unable to finish his sentence. Tim frowns, dismay filling him.
How did I not notice that?
He thinks to himself, giving a harder look at Damian's torso. With the way he was sitting, in such an awkward position, anyone could tell something was wrong. He had KNOWN he had been punched. Black Mask had confirmed it himself. But Tim, one of the (arguably THE) greatest detectives in the world, hadn't even paid attention to his words, too focused on Damian to take in the very relevant information. Likely his ribs were broken, and if he moved him they could puncture an organ.
He can feel the blood under his hand starting to leak out, even with the pressure he had on the wound. He keeps his eyes on it, not daring to even look at Damian's face. The wound was likely pretty deep, seeing from the size of the knife and the amount of blood pouring out. Luckily, seemingly no arteries had been hit, or he would have bled out a long time ago. Tim focused on keeping the bleeding staunched, trying not to let him beat himself up over his failure to notice Damian's broken ribs. There was time to do that after Damian was stable.
"... Why?"
A murmur brings his attention back to the room. He looks up at Damian, who is staring at him with unfocused eyes.
Tim asks him, bewildered,
"Why? What do you mean, why?"
"Why… are you here?"
Tim short circuits at that. Of all the questions Damian could have asked, that was one he hadn't even considered him asking. He barks out a laugh in disbelief.
"Because you're my little brother, and I'm your older brother. I'm not going to let you die. You're not allowed to do that."
Damian seems to take this in slowly, though Tim's not sure how much he can really think at the moment.
"… But you hate me."
Tim can feel his chest constrict at Damian's dazed words.
"Damian, I don't hate you. You- fuck, I told you, you're my little brother. Maybe you get on my nerves and I get on yours, but that doesn't change the fact that we're family. I can't hate you. Do you understand?"
He says this desperately; he needs him to understand. For Damian's sake, but mainly for a large, selfish part; his own.
Damian's head bobs, his consciousness clearly waning. His eyelids are fluttering and his skin pales even more (becoming eerily closer in shade to Tim's own, which was to say an unhealthy color). Tim puts a hand on his jaw, lifting it up so he's supporting it.
"No, don't close your eyes, you can't sleep yet."
"Mmmh… 'M tired,"
Damian mumbles, his head becoming heavier in Tim's hand as he starts to lose his battle with consciousness. Tim taps his thumb on his cheek, desperately trying to get him to regain his cognizance. He's starting to freak out as Damian fades.
"Please please don't do this to me, you're NOT going to fall asleep right now. C'mon, wait until the car gets here."
"Mm…"
Damian's head drops further. His eyes close.
Tim increases his pressure on the wound even more.
"Dami-"
He chokes out, shaking him as harshly as he can without jostling his injuries too much.
"Please I can't-
I can't lose you like this."
His voice cracks as he says it. His family wasn't one for admitting their emotions, and doing it feels so unnervingly vulnerable.
This was not how the night was supposed to go.
Damian slumps in the chair, his posture falling.
Tim hears footsteps rushing to the room. He doesn't even look at the door, his eyes concentrated fully on Damian as if he'll disappear if he looks away. Voices enter the room, and he can feel the concern in them. His body is on autopilot, barely responding to Bruce and Cass's questions as they load Damian onto the stretcher. All he can do is stare at his little brother's unconscious body, thinking the same thing over and over:
He's so small.
Weight.
That's all Damian feels as he wakes. It's like gravity itself is pushing on him, and he fights it as he struggles to open his eyes. The light is blinding, and he has to blink a couple of times before he can entirely open them. He's greeted by the gray ceiling and intermittent beeping. He tries to lift his head up to figure out where he is but hisses out in pain. Letting his head drop back to his pillow, he turns his head to the side. His eyes widened as he and Tim, who was sitting at the side of the room with a computer in his lap, made eye contact.
Tim looks, to put it bluntly, a mess. His eye bags are darker than usual, and he's wearing an oversized gray hoodie with rolled-up sleeves, letting Damian see a plethora of purple bruises. They don't seem to bother him much at the moment, as he scrambles up, practically throwing his computer off his lap as he rushes over to his bedside. Damian stares up at him as Tim awkwardly stands over him. They just look at each other for a few seconds before Tim lifts his hand and pokes Damian in the cheek.
"Drake what-"
He growls at him, annoyed. Tim ignores him and proceeds to interrupt while pointing at him.
"Do. Not. Do. That. Ever again."
Damian looks at him, bewildered.
"... What are you talking about?"
Tim's lips twitch down, and he pokes him in the cheek again, albeit this time with less force.
"Hey!"
"Oh I don't know, maybe you almost dying? You scared me- you scared EVERYONE so bad. I told you, you aren't allowed to do that."
His words are shaky, and even Damian can tell they lack bite. Suddenly, his memories of the last 24 hours come back to him. He looks up again at Tim, this time with newfound guilt.
"... Sorry."
Tim frowns.
"Don't apologize, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be getting mad at you. I just… ugh, how does Dick do this…"
He mutters while sitting down in the chair by Damian's bedside. He pushes his hair back, clearly overwhelmed. Sighing, he glances over to Damian again.
"It's really stressful when you go and put yourself in danger because you think that's how you get people to like you. You don't need to earn people's love. Bruce, Dick, Steph, Cass, Jason, me whoever, they already care."
Damian doesn't know how to respond. Tim doesn't seem to either, as he just puts his hand over his eyes. It's an awkward silence, but warm, a new kind of air. It lets him consider Tim's words. Hearing them from Tim of all people somehow made them feel more like they could be true. He wouldn't bother lying to Damian about something like that. Damian glances at Tim, who still looks as if he has some kind of inner turmoil going on.
He reaches out an uncertain hand, resting it on Tim's shoulder. Tim drops his hands, looking at Damian. Tentative, he puts his own hand over Damians, and smiles faintly.
They sit like that for a few seconds, brother and brother.
SLAM
"Tim, Cass and I got you some takeout, I don't know if you want it but-"
Steph stops in her tracks, staring at Damian. She shoves the bags onto the chair (on top of Tim's computer as well) and practically leaps over to him. Damian pulls his hand back as Tim lets go, glaring at Steph. Cass walks over too, putting her own takeout bag on the ground as she makes her way.
"Dami! You're awake!"
Steph says, smiling at him, before continuing with a more serious expression.
"New rule, being enacted right now. You can't get kidnapped trying to protect me, that's supposed to be my job."
He rolled his eyes.
"Maybe you just need to stop having to be protected, and we wouldn't have to have this 'rule'."
"Haha. Who's in the medical bed right now?"
She retorts while grinning. Damian frowns in annoyance, glancing over at Cass. She gives him a soft smile and says.
"Safe. Glad."
Steph and Tim blink at her, before both letting out a laugh.
"Yeah, she's right. I'm glad you're alive,"
Steph says.
"I think you beat me, though, Damian."
Damian stares at Tim, an eyebrow raised.
"What do you mean?"
Tim grins maniacally.
"You're gonna be the basis for Bruce's next lecture. I don't think you can call me the forgetful one now. He'll be here any minute now, powerpoint and all."
…
Jerk.