Disclaimer: Don't own DC
Another one that's been sitting around for a while, 2 parter.
Chapter 1
"Hey Alfred, the kids out?" he asked teasingly as he emerged from the Zeta. It was good to be back in Gotham, he honestly did not enjoy League missions and he missed Damian and Tim when he was gone. Tim had only been back a few weeks and Dick…well he could admit he still had dreams of watching the kid fall from the building but being too slow to catch him.
"Master Tim agreed to Master Damian accompanying him on patrol tonight," Alfred answered, offering him a cup of coffee.
"Really?" that was a surprise but a good one. He was glad that Tim was trying to get close to Dami now. "I might join up with them then, make it a brotherly bonding patrol." He grinned.
"Very well sir," Alfred agreed.
Dick checked their trackers and headed out. He was glad that the Justice League was getting closer to finding B, the sooner he could get rid of the cowl the better. Though it would be hard handing Damian back. Maybe Tim would be willing to partner with him more once Bruce was back as Batman again? They were close to Jason's territory but not over the line and he had mellowed so they probably weren't in real danger.
He paused on a rooftop, seeing the two boys on a nearby apartment building, Tim speaking to Damian and then Tim leapt, firing his grapple. Dick couldn't help smiling at how graceful Timmy was in the air. And the next second, his heart stopped in terror and disbelief. NO! He felt frozen as he watched Damian throw…Tim's line…
Finally, his body responded and he was airborne, diving for his baby bird. He saw Tim shift his body in the air, reaching for the nearby electrical pole under the wires to try and at least slow his fall, too far from either building to reach for the fire escapes, saw his fingertips brush it but not close enough to grab it. Tim was twisting again, shifting to the best position he could get into, to try and make the fall survivable. It wasn't likely…not from fifteen stories up. Dick reached desperately for Tim and then their eyes met through their masks, Tim reaching for him in return even though his hands were too far out of reach.
And then Dick jerked as his hand latched around Tim's ankle, immediately firing his own grapple, fighting to keep his grip on two objects with opposing forces. He felt his nails digging deep into his gloves, his grip had to be painful, even as he felt his shoulder threatening to dislocate as the grapple bit into the opposite rooftop. The ground was rushing up and he knew…they were going to hit, there wasn't enough time for the line to stop them fully. And Tim knew it too even as Dick struggled to pull Tim up closer to him. He'd slowed Tim's fall…but enough?
And then they hit. He had never forgotten the sound…his parents…and now it was his brother. He barely registered the pain of hitting after him since he hit more gently. Tim had been falling a lot faster than him and yes, he'd slowed him but they'd been too close. Dick shifted, feeling his arm hanging limp, carefully unlocking the fingers of his other hand from Tim's ankle. His suit was more armoured than Tim's, could disperse the impact better.
Sensing movement he looked up to see Damian staring down at them and then the kid vanished.
"Tim?" he called but there was no answer. He took a deep breath, feeling his ribs twinge. "SUPERMAN! SUPERBOY!" he yelled as loudly as he could. "HELP!"
He relaxed as he heard the two booms of the sound barrier being broken. Sure that his spine was alright, he dragged himself up and closer to Tim, seeing the blood on the concrete.
"Tim…." Kon whimpered and then he was kneeling over Tim, hands reaching but not daring to touch.
"Is he?" He couldn't say it.
"He's alive," Clark murmured, kneeling beside him, helping steady him. "Kon, go to the clinic and tell Leslie we need a neck brace and something to stabilise Tim's spine for transport."
"I…"
"Go Kon."
There was the sound of movement then silence so Dick assumed he'd gone.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Clark asked gently, even as he took Dick's arm, manipulating his shoulder back into place.
"He…he cut his line. I tried to catch him…"
"Who cut RR's line?"
"Robin," he choked out.
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Clark was shocked to hear Dick scream for help, taking off immediately, not surprised to spot Kon as well since he'd yelled for both of them…which was very concerning. And then he saw why, forcing down the urge to be sick at the sight. At least Dick was moving.
"Tim…." Kon whimpered and then he was kneeling over Tim, hands reaching but not daring to touch. Not that Clark could blame him with the way Tim was lying twisted in a growing puddle of blood, his heart racing, breaths rasping through his lungs.
"Is he?" Dick asked, voice shaking.
"He's alive," Clark murmured, kneeling beside Dick to steady him. "Kon, go to the clinic and tell Leslie we need a neck brace and something to stabilise Tim's spine for transport." He didn't think Tim's back was broken but there was a lot of internal damage so it was better he be kept as still as possible.
"I…" Kon started to argue, tears in his eyes.
"Go Kon," he ordered, and Kon nodded shakily, taking off.
"Can you tell me what happened?" He asked gently, even as he took Dick's arm, manipulating his shoulder back into place. The quicker that was done the better and he didn't need a machine to see it was back in the socket. He could take a guess at how it'd happened, Dick had caught Tim.
"He…he cut his line. I tried to catch him…"
"Who cut RR's line?" he pressed, concerned, but there was no one around.
"Robin," Dick choked out.
Clark froze for a second. What?! "Superman to Agent A," Clark immediately got out his communicator. If Damian had cut Tim's line, what might he do to Alfred?
"Agent A here."
"Is Robin there?"
"No sir, is something wrong?"
"Lock the bunker down. Robin cut Red Robin's line. Batman caught him but…it doesn't look good. Once secure we'll be transporting to the Watchtower."
"I see… I shall deal with things here sir."
"Be careful," he warned even as Kon appeared with more equipment than he'd been sent for.
Kon shrugged. "Doc insisted."
"We need to keep him as still as possible," Clark warned, and Kon nodded so they got to work putting the collar on and then getting Tim onto the backboard, doing what they could to stem the blood loss as well, Kon wrapping Tim in his TTK to help immobilise him. The lack of reaction was very concerning, it had to be agony and yet Tim didn't so much as whimper, unconscious or not.
Kon's hands were shaking but he still ripped Tim's sleeve off to insert the IV, holding the bag up. With the blood loss he likely needed the fluids fast.
"Superman to Watchtower, we have four for medical transport. Alert the trauma team, high speed impact injuries."
"Understood Superman."
Within seconds they were there, alarms blaring and soon the trauma team were running in with gurneys. They whisked Tim away, not acting so urgent with Dick.
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He wasn't meant to be there; he wasn't meant to be hurt. Why had Richard done that? He didn't understand. Things had finally been making sense and then Drake had returned, everything changing again. This was all Drake's fault! That stupid list of his…he had to have expected Damian to retaliate, he had to.
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Kon stared after the trauma team, all senses locked onto Tim, dreading the moment it would fall silent but the surgical room was lead lined for privacy.
"Kon-El?"
He blinked and looked over to see Diana approaching him.
"Come now, let's get you cleaned up," she murmured.
What? He as confused and then he looked down, seeing the blood soaking his clothes and hands. Oh. He let her lead him to the locker rooms, it was cold…was he shaking?
He realised he was standing in the shower, watching red water wash down the drain, and his knees buckled. Tim… he…he needed to tell the others…but then he was being gently laid down on a bed and he couldn't keep his eyes open.
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Alfred waited in the bunker, armed and ready should the boy appear looking for a fight.
He was desperate for news on his grandson but he needed to remain calm and in control until he dealt with Master Damian. Was Timothy even still alive? He wished Clark had given more information but he understood why he hadn't.
He had failed the family but what more could he have done? Damian had barely tolerated any of them other than Bruce at first. But he had seemed to be improving in the last months. Was Tim's presence really such a trigger? How could he think killing his brother would be accepted. Unless…Dick was not meant to be there. If he cut Tim's line with no witnesses then he would have had time to set things up to implicate someone else…Jason had arrived in Gotham three days ago. Was that the plan, kill Tim and blame Jason?
And then the sensors pinged, it was time. He stood and waited, watching Master Damian approach, the boy freezing as he saw him.
"He wasn't meant to be there!" he blurted, face red with anger…fear? "This is all Drake's fault!" that was more of a snarl.
"You may have killed him!" Alfred actually raised his voice. "Do you realise that? You have killed or permanently injured another member of this family! Your attitude towards Master Tim will no longer be tolerated, it never should have been."
"He wants me dealt with too!" Damian screamed, running to the computer and bringing up the 'hit list' before putting in an obviously hacked password. "See!"
Alfred looked at the list and then at Damian. "Your Father has the same list; it is a contingency list for if one of the community goes rogue or falls to mind control. Even your Father and his best friend are on the list." He pointed to where Bruce's Batman and Superman were. Tim's own friends weren't because the methods used for their mentors would work on them or would only need slight tweaking to do so.
"And it is not a hit list, did you even read what is under your name or did you just assume?" Alfred asked, even as he brought up the information – a list of sedatives and ways to restrain him. "Nothing on this list would harm you and yet you have ruined your brother's life."
He didn't need to see a report, he knew the injuries a fall from great height could cause and…he'd checked Dick's cowl footage, had seen Tim fall from far too high.
"There will be consequences that none of us can shield you from. This cannot be handled internally, not with Master Dick calling on the Supers to help evacuate Master Tim. Remove your uniform and go to your room, your meals will be provided to you there and you will not move."
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Dick sat on the bed, letting them tend his wounds even as he stared at the surgical room that Tim had been wheeled into. Would he come back out? He had to, he just had to. He couldn't lose his little brother, his baby bird. Why? What had Damian been thinking? They were a team! Tim had been slowly settling back in, opening up, and now…he took in a shaky breath, not flinching as a wound was stitched. He'd been forced through x-rays just to be safe and apparently, he'd cracked his tibia, fun, but his ribs were only bruised. But it was nothing compared to Tim, he…he was in for a very long recovery. And he would recover, he would.
"Dick," a familiar voice called, and he looked up to see Barry. "Are you alright?"
"I will be." He gave a one-armed shrug, the other in a sling to keep his shoulder still till it healed. "What brings you here?"
"You don't know yet?" Barry asked. "Well…we did it, we got Bruce back."
Dick stared at him in shock, mind spinning. B was back already? And what was he coming up home to…one son the potential killer of the other… "He's here?"
Barry pointed at where an isolation room was. "So, you're not here for him?"
Dick shook his head, eyes going back to the door of the surgical suite. "It's Tim," he managed to force the words out. "He…it doesn't look good."
And then the door opened and one of the doctors emerged, blood on his scrubs. He swayed, paling, and Barry grabbed him.
"Is he…"
"He's alive, we're moving him to a private room and you can see him there. He has more surgeries to come but he just isn't stable enough at the moment. Do you know how he lost his spleen?"
"His what?!"
"The wound is a few months old."
Dick shook his head. "That was when he was on his search…he hasn't really said anything about that time."
"Well, it complicates things since it makes up part of the immune system but we have him on antibiotics."
"And his injuries?" Dick forced the words out, dread pooling in his gut.
"You need to be prepared," the doctor warned, and then Clark was back, looking between them before moving to support Dick, letting Barry step back a little. "We were forced to amputate his left leg, it was completely shattered and the bone shards had ripped through the nerves, muscles, and the arteries. He had already lost too much blood and we had to prioritise saving his life."
Dick managed to nod. His leg…Tim had lost his leg…
"His other leg is badly broken in multiple places but we managed basic repairs. He will need further surgery once stable enough for plates to be place. His right shoulder was badly dislocated but that was a simple fix. The radius is broken as well as three fingers, it looks like he tried to break his fall using that arm."
"He tried to grab a light pole but his fingers barely brushed it."
The doctor nodded. "What looked like a brush was likely forceful enough to cause the fingers to break. His other arm has a hairline fracture of the humerus and ulna which will heal themselves with time."
Dick nodded, trying to take it all in, noticing that so far, they had only covered the limbs which had him dreading the rest. Tim's other arm must have hit the ground last, when most of his momentum had been dissipated. Barry and Clark had a hand on him, offering silent support but he couldn't look at them, didn't want to see his fear and horror reflected back.
"His liver was bleeding but we've managed to get that under control after removing a section and it should heal, the liver can regrow and regenerate. We have him on dialysis at the moment to take the pressure off his kidneys as they were also damage. We're hoping that with time and rest they will heal too. He has four fractured vertebrae but at the moment we can't tell if the spinal cord is involved due to the swelling. His pelvis was cracked as well but we're leaving it alone for now, it should heal without intervention so long as he doesn't do further damage. We had to wire his ribs since every one of them was broken from the impact but so far, his lungs appear to be only bruised. He's on a respirator to be safe. The biggest concern is head trauma."
He was going to be sick. They all knew the risks, of what a fall could do…he'd seen it himself…but Bruce had kept him away from his parents autopsy reports to spare him that knowledge with people he loved involved.
"Brain activity, even anaesthetised, is not where it should be. I'm sorry but it looks like he's comatose. He could come out of it with little effect but the longer it lasts…"
"The smaller his chances are," Dick murmured.
A coma…Tim was in a coma he might not wake up from. And even if he did, would he still be Tim?
"His skull is fractured and we dealt with a bleed but he is alive and fighting. You can sit with him once he's settled, talk to him, it can help. If he stabilises enough, we'll take him back in tomorrow."
Dick nodded, slumping back against the two older men. "It's my fault," he whispered.
"You didn't cut his line Dick," Clark denied, and Dick shook his head.
"I thought Damian was better, had accepted Tim…"
"Wait, are you saying the kid did this?" Barry demanded.
"Dick called Kon and I from the ground but he said that Robin cut RR's line."
Barry swore quietly. "Where is he?"
"I warned Agent A," Clark answered. "But he wasn't there."
"He's attacked a fellow vigilante in a way that would kill them. Dick…"
"I know," he whispered.
Damian would have to be brought in. The kid had done nothing to endear himself to anyone no matter what Dick tried. Every current member of the Titans had made that clear, Cassie had told him they would be voting to have him removed if he stepped out of line one more time. If…when they found out what had happened…
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Home…he was finally home, well, the right time period. The Watchtower wasn't home but once sure he wasn't carrying any diseases then he'd be able to go home. He missed his kids, Alfred, the Manor… he blinked, was he imagining… no. "Dick?"
His eldest sobbed, leaning against the glass and Bruce got up, stumbling slightly.
"What is it chum?" he asked carefully, ignoring his sore throat.
"B…he was right, he was really right."
"Easy Dick, take a breath," he coaxed.
"Dad, I'm sorry, I messed up so badly and now…Tim…"
Bruce's heart sank, no, please no. "Dick?"
"Dick, they said you can go sit with Tim now," Barry was saying as he appeared and then he looked between them and winced. "Oops," and then he was gone.
"Tim's here?" Then he wasn't dead like Bruce had feared.
"It's…it's bad B. They have to wait for him to be more stable before they can continue surgery. They, uh, they…had to amputate his leg and he's in a coma."
Bruce was going to be sick…and there was a handy bin. A coma…a limb amputated…he needed to see his son, but how? "Who did this to him?" he demanded once he could.
"Damian," Dick whispered, and Bruce froze. "He…he cut Tim's line mid jump."
Bruce staggered back to the bed, collapsing on it. No. Please no. He knew Damian hadn't taken to Tim but this?
"I tried Dad, but I was too far…by the time I caught him it was his ankle and we were too close. The sound…"
"Shh, it's not your fault Dick." He wanted to hold his son while telling him that, to go to Tim.
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Jason frowned when he realised not a single bat was out and about, not that he was worried about them, he wasn't. But for the bats and birds to be missing usually meant something big. "Hey O?" he called warily.
"Hood," she answered after a bit, sounding frazzled. "This important?"
"What's going on?" he asked.
"You actually offering help?" she demanded.
"O, what is it?"
"RR is in medical on the Watchtower, Batman's with him. Batman's injuries are minimal, RR is too unstable for further surgery."
Jason blinked. "What the hell happened?"
"Robin cut RR's line mid-jump. Batman jumped after him and he tried to break his own fall but there was nothing close enough. Robin has just returned to the Bunker and been confined by Agent A. Superman has sent the message that Robin will be taken into League custody as soon as possible." It was obvious that she was trying to keep it together and very close to failing, but he knew she was close to Tim plus her thing with Dick.
"Alright, where do you need me?" he asked. "And who else is online?"
He heard her sigh of relief. "Thanks," she murmured and then his comm was hooked into the Bunker and Batgirl.
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Damian tried to get free several times, but he failed, the penthouse security had been improved since they had moved in. And then Wonder Woman appeared and he sneered at her, going to lunge past her for the door but he didn't stand a chance against the Amazon, the world going dark.
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Cassie stood in front of the closed door, knowing that behind it…was Tim. He was alive, Diana had promised her that but… a fall from that height… and then skinny arms wrapped around her and she turned to hug Bart tightly. It wasn't fair! They'd just gotten Bart and Kon back, they couldn't lose Tim! She stepped forward and the door opened to reveal Dick, in civvies but with a domino on and then her eyes moved past him to the bed and the mess of machines surrounding it. The only sounds came from the machines, the heart monitor sounding…off.
Dick looked up at them, his face gaunt with grief but he motioned them forward and she felt Bart clinging to her hand. "He's comatose but you can talk to him, the doctors said it can help." He stood, swaying briefly.
Bart frowned and then vanished, reappearing a few seconds later, Wally with him.
Wally looked at the bed, looking sick but then he moved to Dick's side, guiding him out of the room.
Cassie approached the bed and took Tim's limp hand in hers. "Hey Wonder," she whispered. "We're here Tim, you…you need to wake up, okay? But…but if you can't, if it hurts too much…then that's okay too. You can let go if you need to," she was choking back sobs as she told him that. She didn't want him to die but…she also couldn't beg him to hold on if it was just going to hurt him even more.
He'd had three surgeries already, two on his head since another bleed had started. Even if he lived, would there be anything of Tim left? Without the machines it would look like he was just sleeping…other than the empty place where his leg should be. It was a rough amputation; they hadn't taken the time to make it neat since they'd been taking life saving measures only. And odds were, he'd never need a prosthetic. Tim looked so strange with his head shaved and bandaged, a tube down his throat, both eyes black, half his face badly bruised.
"Hey Tim," Bart called shakily. "It's…it's okay. We're here. Kon's sleeping, he helped bring you in and he's not doing good."
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Dick stared at the small form in the cell, mind spinning. He had spent so much time trying to help Damian…and it seemed he had wasted it all. How had he blinded himself so badly? Alfred had sent on information - Damian had found Tim's contingency plan and ignored the fact that everyone was on it, even Dick and Bruce, and that it was for containment not death, and decided that Tim had to die because of it.
He'd come to talk to him but now…he just didn't have the energy for it.
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Bruce walked into the room and wanted to run. He forced himself to move forward, taking in the form on the bed, he looked so small… "Oh Tim," he murmured. He took a limp hand in his, sitting down in the empty chair. "You did it Sweetheart, you saved me. Please wake up, everyone misses you."
But there was no reaction from Tim. It had been three weeks since his fall. Three weeks in a coma or under anaesthetic as the surgeons worked to put him back together again. They had removed the respirator yesterday and so far, Tim was managing with just an oxygen mask but they were watching his oxygen stats very closely. His right arm and leg were still in casts but his right arm was free of the cast though still being cushioned since the breaks there were healing. His leg was more metal than bone now but at least it seemed to be healing and he could keep it. His pelvis was healing too which was good. His spine was still a concern, the swelling making it hard to determine how bad the damage was. But the main concern was the ongoing coma and head trauma.
He leant in and kissed his forehead; glad the bruising was going down. The bandages had been removed but his hair wasn't growing back yet. "I love you Tim Wayne, you are my son. You keep fighting, you come back to us. Please…" he squeezed Tim's hand but there was no reaction. "I know you're in pain," Bruce swallowed, not wanting to finish but… there had been no changes at all in brain activity and while it had only been three weeks, he could see the look on the doctors faces.
"If you need to, you can go. We all love you Timmy, so much. If it's too hard, then that's okay. But if you can, then you can keep fighting and we'll be here for you. No matter what," he promised.
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Kon sat beside Tim, holding his hand, hating how cool his skin was. He had lost weight and muscle, his skin pale. At least his hair was more than tiny stubble now, the stitches removed so hopefully it would grow over the scars. "Please Tim, just open your eyes, squeeze my hand…something. Let me know you're still in there. Please…" he begged.
He knew Cassie and Bart had told Tim it was okay if he…if he went…but Kon couldn't do it. Tim was his first real friend, his best friend, the one person who never doubted him. if he'd been keeping a closer ear on him then he would have heard his line break, his heart rate jump, could have been there quicker, saved him.
He hated Damian, wanted to kill him, but the monster was gone and they had made sure Kon didn't know where. Hopefully wherever he was, it was hell on earth.
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Jason paused, seeing Nightwing waiting for him. "Dick?" he asked, knowing there was no surveillance on the roof. And then he staggered back as Dick slammed into him, ten sing, but no, it wasn't a fight. Dick clung to him desperately and Jason realised he was crying. "Dick?" he asked in alarm, heart sinking.
Once, he would have relished the idea of Tim being dead but not now. "The kid?" he asked carefully.
"He…still won't wake up," Dick choked. "It's been a month Jay, the docs…they don't think he'll ever wake up."
Jason swore, tightening his hold on Dick. What was worse, his quick death or a lingering coma until someone pulled the plug or your body just gave up? Was Tim in anyway aware or was he already basically gone?
"B…is bringing him home. There's nothing more they can do for him that we can't. We're going back to the Manor, please come Jason. You…you were Tim's Robin; he's never lost faith in you."
Jason closed his eyes. "I can't promise to stay but I'll come see him." Would Tim even want him to come with the way they had parted? But if he could help or comfort the kid in any way, how could he refuse?
"What happened to Damian?"
"I don't know, the JL handled it. They were worried Kon or Bart would kill him and Cassie didn't seem all too eager to stop them. I messed up so badly Jay, I really hurt Tim and now…"
"Tim loves you Dick, I could see that right from the start."
He'd stalked them for long enough before targeting them after all. He had seen the way Tim brightened when Dick came to visit. And after the Tower, the way Dick had come after him before he found out who was behind the mask, honestly, he'd wondered if Dick would actually try to kill him for real.
"He's a fighter Dick, he won't give up."
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Clark and Kon carefully settled Tim into the bed as Leslie moved around, making sure all the equipment was set up and working properly. Tim hadn't reacted at all to the move but at least he hadn't gotten worse?
Kon sat on the edge of the bed, holding his hand. "You're home now Tim, back in Wayne Manor. Not your old room but it's easier if you're on the ground floor, for when you wake up," he explained, stroking his hand over very short hair.
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Leslie watched but stayed quiet, yes, familiar surroundings could help but Tim's coma had not lightened at all, if anything it had deepened. But she couldn't destroy their hope that he would wake up and come back to them. Even if he did wake…his quality of life would likely be very low. Yes, the brain was an amazing organ and could create new connections, could heal…but a fifteen-story fall… honestly, she was shocked his spine wasn't in worse condition then it was and that he hadn't broken every bone in his body. That could be attributed to Dick's suicidal intervention and Tim's training in how to survive a fall, plus the attempt to grab the pole that had broken his hand and arm, it had likely begun slowing him. Then Dick had further slowed him so he had hit at a speed that didn't instantly kill him, aided by their positioning.
Dick had also gotten off very lucky, he could have broken a lot of bones and if his head had hit, he would have been in serious trouble as well. But Dick hadn't been thinking of any of that, all he'd been focused on was saving his brother. He'd been re-living the trauma of his parents death, it wasn't surprising.
She wished there was more that could be done, but it was all up to Tim. His lack of spleen wasn't helping but his kidneys were beginning to improve and his liver was healing.
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Jason stepped into the room, taking in how bright and airy it had been made, Alfred's work. There were photos all over the walls, Tim with his friends, some shots of the Gotham skyline, Wayne family photos too. There were flowers and cards on the desk in the corner as well.
Jason had seen the newspaper article; Tim Drake Wayne had been in a hit and run in a parking garage and been knocked over the edge. Babs had obviously created the footage for the police, footage that would never lead anywhere. How else could they explain his injuries though?
And finally, he forced himself to look at the bed, taking in the machines and monitors surrounding the kid. The dialysis machine was gone, Tim's kidneys now able to do their own work, and he was down to a nasal canula for oxygen. Breathing on his own was good, it meant his body was capable of automatic functions. But…that didn't mean there was anything else.
He shook those thoughts off and moved closer. "Hey Timbit," he murmured, hesitating, but then he brushed his fingers over Tim's. His skin was cold and dry, not like he was dead but his body wasn't regulating temperature properly. "The new hairstyle doesn't suit you at all." What was he meant to say?
"I'm sorry kiddo, for everything. I never should have taken it out on you, you didn't deserve it," he told Tim as he sat in the seat beside the medical bed. "You were the best Robin," he told him, hesitantly taking his hand.
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Alfred carefully massaged Timothy's stump, pleased with how well it was healing. His other leg was finally out of the cast and they were working to try and rebuild some muscle in it since it had wasted while in the cast and with Tim in a coma. There was still no sign of him waking and Alfred had seen Leslie's face, she didn't think he would ever wake.
Tim's care was shared between all of them who were able but Alfred tried to take on the majority to spare the others. He knew his grandson was dying a slow death. He knew the odds now that Tim had been in a coma for more than thirty days without opening his eyes. He had a very poor prognosis now and…he'd likely never wake even if he survived for years if the coma lasted too much longer. He had no eye response, they had to be manually opened by another, he hadn't made a noise, not even in reaction to pain, and he showed no reaction to pain or pressure. His pupils barely reacted to light either but at least there was some reaction. All of those signs indicated a very deep coma.
Alfred carefully manipulated Tim's limbs and then rolled him to help avoid bed sores. And then he froze at a noise. His head snapped up and he hit the alarm, Tim seemed to be choking. Bruce rushed into the room, a look of horror on his face but then he moved to help Alfred get Tim into a good position even as the oxygen monitor began to beep. Alfred pulled out the necessary supplies and they went to work, intubating him and making sure the oxygen was being delivered, his oxygen stats rising again.
That…that was not good. It was likely a sign that Tim's body was losing control of its autonomic nervous system. If that was true…
"I'll call Leslie," Master Bruce murmured, and Alfred nodded.
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Steph sat beside the bed, hating the tube now down Tim's throat, a sign he was deteriorating. It wasn't fair! There was so much left unsaid, so much pain. And it was her fault, she'd hurt him so deeply, it wasn't surprising that he didn't trust her anymore. Things had improved a little after fighting Ra's ninja together but it still hadn't been good.
"Fight Tim, please," she whispered, reaching to squeeze his hand. "I know your insomniac tendencies mean you're always tired, but this is a ridiculous amount of sleep," she teased shakily. "You can do it; I know you can."
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He went over the information gathered, frowning. Damian had always been impulsive but this… his grandson had since vanished. The Detective was back and there was no way that he would have killed, especially his child. No, it was more likely the Justice League had intervened. Todd had been badly brain damaged and the Lazarus Waters had restored him, they could do the same for Timothy. The missing limb was a setback but he had no doubt the young Detective could adapt, especially with a good prosthetic.
Retrieving him would not be easy, the Manor's security was better than ever and there were always several vigilantes present, Timothy's old teammates often there as well. But there were ways to incapacitate them as well.
TBC….