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It was stifling inside the greenhouse. The air was thick and hot and sticky with moisture from all the plants flourishing below. While it at least smelled fresh, the heat only made Tim’s injuries feel all the worse. One really couldn’t feel great with a pounding headache, cracked ribs, and sweat trickling down your back. Not to mention the litany of cuts and bruises littering his body.
Tim’s uniform felt glued to him, by sweat and the air itself. He peeled off his gloves, folding them together so he wouldn’t lose them, and tucked them into his utility belt. Already, his hands felt better as air brushed over them.
He rolled one sleeve up as high as he could get it, shoving it up and over his elbow. The skintight fabric of his uniform felt even tighter now as it pressed all together into his skin, but he needed to remove some bulk from his arm.
Freed of fabric and glove, Tim gripped a lockpick and tried again to squeeze the rest of his arm through the bars of his cage, twisting and turning it and pressing so hard he thought he might just peel the skin off it. He thought if he could just get the rest of his forearm out he could probably reach the lock on the door and get it picked.
Escape was the only option at this point. Tim had settled on the decision when he’d seen the comically oversized clock hanging across from them, huge red numbers ticking down a countdown. Tim hadn’t been certain what it was counting down to until he’d looked closer at the other cage hanging in the room, tied at the top of it were enough explosives to take out both of them, let alone just the one cage. Tim had a feeling the same rested above his head.
Already he’d been working at the lock an hour, with a little over half an hour remaining on the clock in front of him. Tim knew Batman was on his way, Riddler had announced as much shortly after Tim had woken up. That meant there were cameras in the greenhouse along with the bombs. Still, even with Batman on his way, Tim would rather not wait around.
He shot a glance over at the other oversized bird cage hanging in the room, “Robin, how’re you doing?” Tim called, ending the question with a grunt as he shoved at the bars again.
The metal squeezed his arm almost as tight as the bunched up fabric was and Tim just couldn’t quite get past it. He pulled his arm back with a huff and flopped backwards against the opposite bars of the cage to examine the deep red imprint the bars had made.
“Robin?” he tried again, now turning to look over at the other cage.
Damian’s hung a few feet away from Tim’s suspended over some rather pretty flowers-- not that Tim needed to care about the flowers right then. It was no larger than Tim’s, with just enough room to sit or turn around if you had to. Damian was curled up in his with knees tucked almost to his chin, his cape flopped over him in a way that made Tim blanch just imagining how warm it must be.
“Rob, talk to me. Please.” Tim said, an edge of worry creeping into his voice.
Damian was lying at such an angle he couldn’t get a good look at the kid. He knew his brother was hurt, but to what extent he had no idea.
The two of them had been investigating what they’d thought to be a great tip on some illegal drugs. Instead they’d walked right into an ambush of almost thirty men, all armed to the teeth and told only that they had to keep Robin and Red Robin alive.
It was too many for the two of them to take care of alone, and while they’d called for backup the fight had gone bad fast. They’d fought well sure, but apparently Riddler had been quite intent on grabbing them. So much so, that when it was obvious they were going to make it hard on the men, they’d started shooting.
In all the chaos Tim couldn’t really say what had taken Damian down. Silently he prayed it hadn’t been a stray bullet, or a series of bullets. He had no way of knowing if Riddler would care enough about them to patch up a bleeding Robin or not. He highly doubted it.
“Robin!” he tried again.
At last Tim heard a tiny, “-ake?”
He heaved a sigh of relief. They weren’t out of the woods yet, but at least his little brother wasn’t dead.
“Status?” Tim asked.
Damian groaned, and curled a little tighter.
Well crap. Tim had really been hoping he could wake Damian enough to be sensible. The kid’s hands were smaller than his, and he was certain Damian could get an arm through the lock and undo it. But then there would be the problem of getting down and getting Tim out. He wasn’t sure if Damian could manage it in his state, especially having no real idea what Damian’s actual state was.
His hope flared again when the bundle that was his brother shuddered and opened, not unlike the blooms below him. Damian pushed himself up to sit, leaning heavily against the bars. He still had his cape wrapped tightly around himself.
“Where?” he asked, turning his head to take in both cages and the greenery below.
“Greenhouse, I’d say that new one Gotham U just put in.” Tim explained, “We’ve got about half an hour before you and I are blown sky high.”
Damian groaned again, “Batman?”
“On a fun little puzzle trail.” Tim said.
His brother nodded, “Then we must escape.”
“That’s where you come in, my arm’s too big to get my cage unlocked, so you need to get out of yours and get me down.”
“Tt.”
Damian hadn’t moved much since they’d started talking, or really shifted his cape, so Tim was still unclear just how bad off he was. He could see bruising on his brother’s face, ugly redness that was sure to end up black and blue above one of his eyes.
As they talked Damian reached up to rub at his head, before pulling his hand away to look at the glove.
“Bump or blood?” Tim queried.
“Both.” Damian grumbled, “I guess I will just have to save you with blurry vision.”
Tim rolled his eyes, “All in a day’s work for the grandson of Ra’s al Ghul.”
His brother tutted at him again and leaned forward to look at the door. It was solid, same as Tim’s with the stupid lock set all the way in the center, meaning he'd have to get his arms out before he could try to pick it.
He rummaged in his belt for his own lockpicks and then hesitated.
“Time’s a ticking.” Tim reminded him.
“I know.” Damian said, voice tight, “Give me a moment, my head is spinning.”
That wasn’t great. Damian didn’t admit anything he’d see as a weakness. Not to Tim at least. And a spinning head would certainly be considered a weakness.
At last Damian nodded, and leaned into the door to shove his arms through. They slipped past the bars easily.
“I knew it.” Tim cheered, “Scrawny arms are a Robin plus.”
“I am surprised you did not manage to get your arm through then.” Damian shot back, without any real heat to the retort. He was too focused on the lock, first slipping in the tension wrench, then working at the tumblers with the pick.
There was something odd about the fingers on Damian’s hand holding the wrench. Tim couldn’t quite make it out, but they looked...wrong. He bit back a question about it. Broken or injured or whatever, they needed out of these cages and Damian was in the best place to do that.
“Want to bet Nygma baked in a stupid bird pun to his riddle about us?” Tim said instead, hoping to keep things light.
Damian snorted, “It is probably about Robins ‘hanging out’.”
“Ha, I wouldn’t put it past him.” Tim leaned back and replaced his own lockpicks in his belt, “Someone really needs to give Gotham’s finest baddies a thesaurus or something. They use the same jokes all the time.”
Instead of responding, Damian swore as the sound of metal tinked against metal. Tim looked up just in time to see the tension wrench tumbling to the flowers below.
“I have a spare.” Damian said, answering Tim’s question before he asked it.
This time, Tim was silent as his brother worked the lock. He could see the tightness of Damian’s mouth, angry with himself about having to rework the tumblers after dropping the wrench. Tim glanced up at the clock. Twenty minutes.
Tim bit back another question about Damian’s status. He was hurt, had to be. Tim was beaten and bruised, and had aches he didn’t even want to consider just yet. Damian would be in much the same condition, if not worse. He had been unconscious much longer than Tim after all.
“There.” Damian said, voice devoid of the victory it might normally hold, “I have done what you were obviously incapable of.”
As he said it, Damian kicked the door open.
Above them an alarm started going off. Tim looked back at the clock, it had lost half it’s time, dropping them to a little under ten minutes.
“Robin.” Tim said, urgency in his voice.
“I know. I know.” Damian said, irritated, he was looking up at Tim’s cage, quizzical.
“There’s probably a lever on the ground somewhere to get the cages down. I doubt they used ladders to shove us in them.” Tim prompted, “I wouldn’t try jumping over here.”
It was an obvious enough answer, one Damian should have thought of on his own. The fact that he’d needed the prompt was concerning. Though, as long as he could get Tim down, they could deal with whatever was slowing down the kid’s thinking soon enough.
“Right.” Damian nodded, and looked down below him, hesitating.
Something was wrong. They were high up yes, but from where Damian was he should be able to grapple to a tree nearby and then climb down from there. It should be easy.
“Tt.” Damian said, working out the path himself and pulling out his grapple.
Still, he hesitated.
“What are you waiting for?” Tim asked, then deciding he needed to push his brother, “You need me to lay out this path for you too?”
“As if.” Damian scoffed.
“Then are you frightened?”
His brother shot him a glare that could kill, “It is child’s play.”
At last, Damian scooted to the edge of the cage, fired his grapple and jumped. Since he couldn't stand and jump, his exit looked awkward and uncomfortable, and for a moment Tim thought he might fall, but he made it to the tree. He paused, leaning against the bark for a moment.
Tim couldn’t help but keep looking up at the clock. Seven minutes.
Damian started climbing down the tree. One of his hands slipped, then his foot, and he fell off it backwards into the bushes below.
“Robin!” Tim yelled, throwing himself against the bars to try and see what had happened.
He heard more than saw the sound of his brother hitting thick foliage, then more rustling, then silence.
“Robin, answer me!” Tim shouted again, panic making his heart beat so hard against his chest he was afraid it would burst out.
At last, Damian dragged himself out of the green, and stood. The sight of him reminded Tim to breathe again, he was okay. Damian wavered for a moment before straightening, “I am here.” he called up, his voice barely over the alarm still blaring, then started moving.
As his heart slowed down, Tim traced the lines from their cages across the room, and down, in the general direction of where the controls must be. He lost Damian in the plants, and had to wait.
“Got it!” his brother yelled up a moment before Tim’s cage started downward.
It was a bumpy ride, and Tim found himself gripping at the bars as he dropped. All too quickly the cage hit the ground with a bone rattling thump.
Tim shifted to peer around the door and try to find Damian. He was leaning heavily against the control panel, located almost directly in front of Tim’s cage.
The timer was down to five minutes.
“At the rate you’re going, Batman will have saved us by the time you get me out.” Tim said, hating himself a bit for continually egging Damian on.
It was obvious at this point his brother was sporting some kind of serious injury, but they needed to move. If they didn’t at least get away from the cages Tim was going to be toast, Damian too if he stayed close.
“Shut up, Drake.” Damian hissed.
Even this close Tim almost couldn’t hear it, not with the alarm blaring and Damian’s voice so quiet.
“Make me.” he challenged, “Prove me wrong.”
His brother shoved himself up off the panel with a grunt. To Tim’s horror, the panel was coated in red. Damian didn’t seem to have noticed himself, tugging at his cape to keep it close to himself, as if he thought he could still hide the fact that he was apparently bleeding out from Tim.
Damian trudged over to Tim’s cage and knelt before the door to start working on the lock.
“Robin.” Tim said, not really sure what else to say.
He hated that he was pushing Damian like this. Hated that he hadn’t been the one to get out of the cage on his own to rescue them. Hated that his little brother had to be the one to push past pain to save them. His brother who he didn’t always get along with, but was his brother all the same. Who could have left him the moment he’d gotten his own cage open.
“Drake--” Damian said, voice far too quiet, “I--” and then Tim heard a thump as his brother slumped against the door, unconscious again. The lockpicks clinking to the ground one after another.
Tim swore. Panic clouded his mind, they had minutes to get out of here. Minutes before they were both dead and gone and Bruce lost two more kids. And Damian--Tim couldn’t let that thought go further.
“Damian, wake up, come on. You have to wake up, please.” Tim plead.
He reached out for his brother’s shoulder, and grabbed him, shaking Damian.
“What?” Damian’s voice was groggy, then he shot up, “The lock!”
He scrambled for his picks, hands catching them again from the dirt. From here, Tim could defiantly tell Damian had some broken fingers on one hand. Internally he winced. Working one then two locks like that was not fun.
Damian shoved the picks into the lock with such force it rattled Tim’s cage. All Tim could do then was listen as metal scraped metal while Damian hurried, the numbers on the clock above them counting down and down. Tim heard the click of the lock just as the clock hit its final minute.
“That's it!” he cheered, and pushed the door open.
Damian scrambled back, as Tim all but crawled out. Now, out of the cage with Damian fully in view, he could see the jagged tear in Damian’s tunic, blood seeping out of a gash. On the same side, Tim could see more blood flowing from Damian’s thigh where a bullet had obviously caught him.
He didn’t have time to gape, and from the look of Damian his brother wasn’t getting back up, his skin was washed out to a pale sickly color, and his face lax. He was either unconscious or just about there. He leaned down, grabbing one of Damian’s arms to drag over his shoulder and hauled the kid up.
“This is going to hurt.” Tim apologized, and started running, dragging Damian with him towards the exit at the other end of the greenhouse.
There was no audible click click click of the timer counting down, but Tim could almost hear it anyway. Phantom ticks echoed in his head as he hauled Damian and himself towards the exit. He couldn’t afford to look up and check the time, remaining but he knew he had moments.
He kicked the doors open, and pulled Damian out just as the explosives went off. The force of the blast threw Tim and Damian forward, into the gravel outside the building. Tim’s ears rang, and his forehead crashed into the ground, reminding him of his earlier headache. His vision was blurry when he looked up, but he was still holding onto Damian. He held tight, even as figures approached them both at a run.
“Tim!” Dick’s voice came at him in waves through the howling in his ears, and at last his older brother came into view, bright blue first, then the black of his uniform and his lips turned down in a worried frown.
“I’m fine.” Tim lied, “Damian needs medical attention.”
Bruce, because that’s who the other figure was, tugged Damian out of Tim’s hold. He let him, confident in his brother’s safety from here on out.
Dick helped him to his feet, and Tim gratefully leaned into his side, “Just in time.” he said, a little dazed.
His brother squeezed him, “We would have been early if someone hadn’t tried escaping.”
“Tried?” Tim said, as they made their way towards the car, “I’d say we succeeded.”
Somehow, bumped, bruised, and with a throbbing headache, Tim passed out on the ride back to the cave. He was settled in the front seat next to Bruce, with Dick in the back, making sure Damian didn’t finish bleeding out on the way home.
Tim wanted to stay awake, to be an extra set of hands helping Damian out, but the adrenaline he’d been running on since waking up to see those red numbers was fading, leaving him feeling like a noodle cooked too long and ready to disintegrate.
When he came to, he was on a gurney in the cave. Dick was settled beside him, his tablet in his lap, glowing upwards to cast his face in blueish light.
“You won’t sleep if you don’t put a filter on that you know.” Tim told him, pushing himself up. His ribs ached.
“Tim!” Dick’s smile was bright, and honestly the best thing Tim had seen the whole night, “How’re you feeling?”
“Not that bad?” Tim was surprised to find that while his chest did hurt, the ache in his head had faded, and the rest of him felt strangely okay.
His brother hummed, “Still, you need to rest, okay?”
Tim nodded, then remembered Damian, “No! Wait, where’s--”
Dick reached out to stop Tim from getting up. He’d shifted to push himself out of the cot without thinking.
“Damian’s fine! Resting, like you should be.”
“He is not fine! He was bleeding out.” Tim said, shoving at Dick’s arms.
“He’s stable.” Dick corrected, “And he will be fine. The bullet was a clean shot and whatever hit his side only nicked him.”
Tim nodded, but didn’t stop trying to look around Dick to find Damian. His brother sighed, and dropped his hands, instead pointing.
“He’s over there.”
Tim could tell from Dick’s expression he understood. And of course he did. He was big brother to them all. Anytime one of them got hurt he must feel the way Tim was feeling now. Responsible. Guilty. Afraid.
“I’m sorry.” Tim blurted, then leaned into Dick’s chest, “I’m sorry I scared you.”
“Oh.” Dick returned the hug immediately, “It’s alright, it’s not your fault Nygma got bored this week.”
Tim snorted, “That’s some boredom buster. I usually just play Tetris.”
“Liar, you usually sneak down here to crack open an old case file.”
“Sometimes I play Tetris.” Tim countered, pulling away from the hug.
Dick rolled his eyes, but helped him out of the cot. Tim could stand on his own once he was down, but Dick still accompanied him over to Damian’s cot. He was probably just as eager to check in on him as Tim was.
Bruce was seated close by. Not quite next to the bed, but on a rolling chair that meant he’d been there a moment ago before they’d moved over. He looked Tim over for a moment and nodded. Tim wanted to go get the hug they both wanted, but Damian was first. He just needed to know the kid was fine.
There was another chair by the bed that Tim took, settling in to look Damian over. A bag hung above his bed, the line trailing down to his brother’s arm slowly returning some of the blood he’d lost. The fingers on one hand were splinter, his head was bandaged, and that spot just on his brow Tim had sure would bruise was already dark.
But he was breathing. His skin had regained some of its color. Most of all, he was awake.
Damian gave him half a smile, “I see you did not explode.”
Tim couldn’t help it, he laughed. Relief and the release of dread and fear from his stomach made him lose it at the pathetic joke, “Yeah.” he said, catching his breath, “Thanks to you.”
Damian hummed, but did not respond.
“Thank you.” Tim said, “You really saved me back there.”
His brother shrugged, then winced, “You saved me as well.”
He had, but it wouldn’t have been possible without Damian’s help.
“I’m sorry.” Tim said, “I kept goading you, and you were hurt.” his gaze trailed down to Damian’s leg, covered by a blanket but probably wrapped in thick gauze.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Dick said they’d almost been there. If he and Damian hadn’t jumped the gun Damian wouldn’t have pushed himself like that.
“We had no way of knowing when Batman would arrive.” Damian said, as if he’d read Tim’s thoughts, “Your goading might have saved our lives. Who knows if Nygma would have sped up the timer anyway. It was a good move, Timothy.”
Timothy. Damian rarely called him by his full name. Mostly it was when Tim was dying. Right now, it sent a warm flurry through his chest. And in response, he leaned down and wrapped Damian in a quick hug. It wasn’t long or drawn out. Anything like that was still likely to get him stabbed.
“I’m glad you’re okay.” he said, pulling back.
Damian looked flushed, his cheeks red, face furious, “Yes well.” he said, huffing, “You too.”
And that, that was almost better than anything Tim could ask for.