A/N: Written for a drabble prompt on Holy Server Batman.
Out of the Darkness
Tim came to abrupt awareness in the dim bedroom. Though his neck ached and his shoulders were twisted from being slumped over the armrest of the loveseat that Bruce had brought in earlier, his senses insisted that someone new was nearby. Eyes shut and limbs still, Tim took rapid inventory. If he strained his ears beyond the hum of Dick's medical equipment, he could hear the tiniest breath of movement approaching… there!
Eyes flying open, he lifted his forearm and blocked the shadow hovering over him. His adversary gave a grunt. Tim recognised the sound.
"Damian?!"
A wiry hand slapped over his mouth. "Shut up, Drake!" Damian hissed.
Damian was strong, but Tim had seven years on him, and much more experience being a younger brother. He twisted away easily, sitting up straight and glaring at the spiky silhouette.
"Get out."
"You get out. You've outstayed your welcome."
"I fell asleep," Tim groused. "Big deal. You can have longer tomorrow."
"I had tonight."
"Yeah, from ten." Tim checked his watch. It was half past eleven. "You missed your… wait, why didn't you—"
"None of your business!"
A low groan from the bed distracted them both as Dick stirred. Springing off the loveseat, Tim hurried over, but Dick was again unresponsive. Tim drew an unsteady breath; Damian, standing by his shoulder, did the same.
"If you're going to be here, keep quiet," Tim whispered. "For Dick's sake."
Damian did not reply, but Tim saw a small hand reach out to touch Dick's slack fingers, echoing Tim's own movements of a few hours before.
"He should wake up," Damian muttered. "It's been days."
Tim blinked hard, glad Damian could not see his face. Sometimes it takes months, he thought. I should know. But Dick was not in a coma, as Tim's father had been. Ten days of captivity and starvation would have different consequences. The lump in his throat grew as his gaze caught on the cast on Dick's arm. The horrors Dick had endured were unimaginable—though Tim's nightmares had tried.
"I knew something was different, but he refused to let me investigate." Damian's voice was tight. "You should've been there."
Tim swallowed. "I know."
"I'm his Robin. I would've protected him, had he let me."
Tim could have said so many things in return—the most cutting being, I was his Robin before you knew what Robin was, and he was my brother before he was ever yours—but as he glanced at Damian's bowed head and restless fingers, he felt the guilt masquerading as fury and thought, I've been there too. Had Damian spent an hour and a half in agony, deeming himself unworthy of even seeing his favourite brother?
"Dick won't blame you. You know that, right?"
"Tt. Of course." But Tim did not miss the way Damian's fingers relaxed, just a little, nor the way Damian unconsciously moved closer.
"He'll be all right, Dami," he said finally.
"Tt," said Damian again, though without heat. "I know, Timothy."
A/N: This wasn't meant to be my next fic, but I was feeling inspired. Please let me know what you think!
Sources:
Tim's father was in a coma in Detective Comics #621 (Batman: Rite of Passage).