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So, Tim had decided to give the whole big brother thing a try. Bonding with Damian wasn’t easy, but it was probably worth it to at least make an effort toward mutual understanding. Or something like that.
If he was honest with himself, Tim had to admit he actually liked Damian enough - he was his little brother, after all, and despite everything, they still trusted each other with their lives. So, doing an activity together couldn’t be so hard, right?
They were supposed to try out a new restaurant together, and then go shopping for a gift to give to Bruce for Father’s Day. Nothing too bad or complicated, and that was supposed to be a nice start.
Damian had even seemed excited in his own way about the trip, too.
But, of course, because they were Waynes and known for their incredible luck, they ended up being kidnapped between two shops.
And, alright, Tim didn’t have the best big brother examples around - Jason did try to kill him, after all, and the problem with Dick was more about how all of Tim’s friends were thirsty over him - but he was pretty sure that getting Damian kidnapped wasn’t getting him good points on the matter.
But hey, at least they were bonded together, now.
With actual ropes, but well, you can’t have everything in life.
They were in your typical white van, always useful when you intend to kidnap two kids from the streets. Two goons were in the back, looking over them, and two more were in the front, driving the engine. Tim wasn’t sure how they managed to lull Damian in the alley they snatched them from, but as soon as they got the kid in a hold, gun at his temple, Tim had realized he had no chance of getting out of it quickly and nicely. So, being kidnapped it was, because he may start his life as a big brother in a shitty way, but he had no intention to abandon Damian.
They had pulled the ropes and tied them up back-to-back, wrists and arms, which didn’t give them a lot of room to move. Tim felt uneasy not being able to see Damian and check on him - at least to make sure he was okay and not on the verge to maim anyone. The kid’s answer to a stressful situation was still to attack and hurt, which, fair , but that would probably not help them in this situation.
The end of the ropes was tied on a very neat knot around a hook on the side of the van. Tim had it in front of him, and really, he had no idea what kind of knot it was. And he knew a lot of them.
Did he spend the last five minutes fixing it trying to understand how to undo it? Maybe. No one will never know.
Damian moved a little behind him. He was tense, but not shaking, neither was he talking. At first, Tim had tried asking their kidnappers a stream of questions: who were they, what did they want, where were they going? He had been received with silence and a slap in the face.
They didn’t like questions.
Tim was glad that Damian wasn’t trying to antagonize them, or just to talk or anything else. Even if it was kind of odd. Tim really hoped he wasn’t hurt. It didn’t seem like he was, but you never know.
Or maybe he was scared. What Tim was supposed to do, then? He couldn’t really talk in risk of angering their kidnappers, or hug the kid, or give his pets to Damian like his first reflex always was.
He breathed out, trying to shove his anxiety away. Bruce used to tell him that there was always a solution. He just needed to find it.
(Tim had never liked kidnappings. It had happened one or two times when he was still a kid, and his parents had never even answered the kidnappers or even knew it had happened. And after that - well, Tim never quite managed to bury the thought that no one would come for him.)
Damian moved again against him. The position was uncomfortable, and Tim couldn’t stretch properly - his back started to hurt. But the friction reminded him of something - their wrists were tied up together.
Quietly, Tim grabbed Damian’s hand the best he could, and squeezed it slowly. Damian didn’t give any visible reaction, but he squeezed back.
Neither of them let go of the other.
Damian was not having a good time.
He was supposed to spend a nice afternoon with Timothy - the only one of his siblings he hadn’t managed to bond with yet. Richard and Stephanie had been easy enough, mostly because they had done all the hard work themselves. Bonding with Jason had been… weird was probably the best adjective to use. But they had found a common ground in the League and their love for Talia - or the love she had for them, maybe. They were getting closer every time they were spending time together. It was nice - he was a very different brother than Richard. In the same way, bonding with Cassandra had been difficult despite their shared upbringing. Damian had to admit having feeling jealous about how well she fitted in the family and the easy trust everyone gave her while he was still trying so hard to get accepted. And Cassandra, even if she had been understanding of his moods, had seemed relatively indifferent to him and not interested in bonding with him. Obviously, there had been miscommunication from both of them, and since then, they were way closer. It was still a work in progress, but it was better.
His only sibling he hadn’t managed to form a bond with was Timothy. If he was honest with himself, Damian had to admit that he was kind of scared - not of Timothy himself, but to fail to bond with him, to fail to amend himself from trying to kill him when they first met. Damian regretted it, of course he did. He learned since then; he knew better, and specifically, he knew more about family and relationship, about what he could and couldn't do, about proper actions and reactions when confronted to different situations - all things he hadn't known or had been twisted by his Grandfather then. Despite this new knowledge, he was still distant from Timothy, and he was never sure how to properly approach him.
So, of course, when Timothy had proposed to spend the afternoon with him, Damian had been delighted . And frightened. And stressed. And worried.
But more than anything, it had been his chance to apologize, and make things better, and to prove to Timothy he was sincere in his attempts to bond with him.
Being kidnapped wasn’t part of his plan. It was also very, very annoying.
(He should have been more wary of the little puppy alone in the alley. Damn him for being weak in front of animals.)
Damian wasn’t sure how to feel about Timothy being here with him. It was less lonely, yes, but Damian also felt guilty - it was his fault if they were in this situation, after all.
But Timothy was holding his hand, and he hadn’t let go, and Damian didn’t want to let go either.
The van stopped with a startle that sent both Timothy and Damian against the wall. It made the goons laugh, and Damian glared at them. They didn’t recoil in fear, sadly. But he wouldn’t talk - last time one of them talked, he got hurt, and Damian didn’t want it to happen again. He didn’t want his brother to get hurt because of him either - he had done enough already.
“ Com’ on, brats, time to go,” said one of them - the one with the crooked nose.
He crouched in front of them to untie them. The other had his gun pointed at them, forbidding them to even think about escaping. As soon as the ropes fell on the floor, Crooked Nose trained his gun on them as well while raising on his feet, now towering above them.
Someone knocked at the doors of the van before it opened.
“ On your feet, you two.” This time, it was the other goon talking - Damian decided to call him Yellow Teeth, because his dentition was truly horrible.
Timothy raised on his feet first, and so Damian quietly followed his lead. His brother immediately took his hand back, and Damian didn’t even think about voicing a protest. He was way too happy to have something, someone, grounding him.
The air smelled like salt and wood and iron. A glance to the right when exiting the back of the van confirmed that they were on the docks.
So classic .
Damian still stayed close to Timothy, his gaze never leaving the guns pointed on them and the particular warehouse they were led on.
The inside was cleared out and empty except for the two chairs Timothy and Damian were shoved into. Crooked Nose stayed behind Timothy, his gun on his head, and Damian felt the muzzle on another one against his skull.
The two other men came to view, their back right in front of the only other furniture of the room. It was a simple table with, in the middle of it, placed in highlight, a strange bottle. Made of glass or maybe crystal, of a deep, cold blue, and what seemed a million of pretty ornaments tailored along all of its curves, the phial attracted all eyes. It looked like the kind of fancy perfume bottle for women Father had bought for Leslie on her last birthday.
One of the men was all tall and boarded, another gun in his hands - probably a bodyguard and the one who had been the driver.
The last one was the most interesting. In a business suit, he seemed in his element, leaned as he was against the table and having two kids prisoner. He wasn’t looking like much, his face not discernible and his hair well cut and styled.
His smile froze Damian’s blood.
Whatever was happening definitely wasn’t good.
Tim desperately wanted to take Damian against him to shield him from whatever was going to happen. The smile of the leader in front of him - because obviously he was the leader, everyone could see it - didn’t bode well. They were brought here to suffer, and Tim was already gritting his teeth together at the prospect of their future sweet, sweet torture.
And to tell that his day had started so well.
“ Hello, boys,” crooned the leader. “It’s a pleasure to have you.”
Tim died inside to say that the sentiment wasn’t reciprocated. Sadly, he still wasn’t sure he was authorized to talk. A glance to Damian confirmed that his little brother was probably feeling the same.
Usually, when they were kidnapped at their civilian self, it was to ransom Bruce. Something felt different this time, through, but Tim couldn’t pinpoint what exactly. Maybe just the vibes of the leader?
“ You see,” he started to monologue again, “I have a little… beef with your father. I’m sure that it sadly happens quite some times to the lot of you.” He addressed them an apologetic smile. “But, for once, I am not here to ask for a ransom. I will just ask you a little thing, really.”
Tim squinted his eyes at him. He was gleeful, full of himself, so devilishly happy about his fantastic idea to come back at Bruce, and it was more than visible. Tim was ready to bet it had everything to do with the weird phial on the table. Maybe it was poison? A drug? Some magic junk?
As if he wanted to be even more suspicious, the leader’s smile grew. “I just want one of you to drink the liquid inside this.” He took the phial inside his hands, turning it and making it shone under the light. It was looking kind of threatening, like that. “As for what is inside… You see, the friend of mine who gave it to me is a magician… He said it would freeze to death whoever would drink it. I’m very curious about it, really I am, but sadly I won’t be here to see it. I’ll let one of you drink it, and then I’ll call your father to tell him where you two are. Isn’t it very nice of me?”
Tim let a disgusted sneer appear on his face. It was sadistic as fuck, that was what it was. Also, magic junk, yippee. None of them liked it and Zatanna was on a mission right now. There was a high chance that whoever would drink it would die.
Tim didn’t want to die. He was still young, still had a lot to live. He barely managed to admit to himself his feelings for Kon, and was planning how to declare his love, and it would bother him to not be able to do so. He was mentally in a better place since Bruce’s return, and maybe even before, and he had worked so hard to be where he was now in his life.
But really, there was no hesitation on the subject.
Damian was eleven . He was just a kid , and he was Tim’s baby brother - and if Tim knew one thing about big brothers, that was that they protected their younger siblings.
And Tim- Tim loved Damian. He was so proud of him, with how much he had changed, how much he had worked on himself. He never really said it because, well, they weren’t exactly close - but it was true. Damian deserved to live, not only because he was a kid, but also and especially because he had so much to discover, learn, and experience still. He had so much love to give and to receive, so much to offer to the world and their family.
Tim maybe was a shitty big brother, but he would never let his little brother die for him.
“ I’ll take it,” he said immediately, his voice steady and gaze firm.
He didn’t look at Damian. He couldn’t.
His little brother startled before turning his head toward him. He could still see his eyes widening, panicked. “No!”
The leader laughed. “Eager much, kiddo?”
Tim glared at him. “Not really, but I’m decided. Give it to me.” He waited a few seconds before adding, lower, “please.”
The leader snorted. His gaze wandered between Tim and Damian - one resolute and the other panicked. He raised an eyebrow, a new shine in his eyes.
“ Please, do convince me, boy.”
Tim hoped really hard that this asshole would get punched badly by Batman tonight. Or Nightwing. Or Red Hood. Or Black Bat. Or Batgirl. Or even all of them, because they were all going to get pissed. Bats never took well loss.
“ Please, give me the… thing. Phial. Whatever. I’ll drink it.” The leader watched him before looking at Damian again - his little brother was nearly shaking, his words lost, still looking at Tim with a disbelieving horror.
And it hit Tim - pleading for Damian’s life was not the good way to go. It was… This man - he wanted to hurt Bruce.
He would give the potion to whoever’s death will be the most hurtful to Bruce, and no one else.
And so, Tim had to convince him that Bruce would regret him more than Damian.
Great . And to say that the whole idea had been to spend more time with his little brother and get to know him.
Tim breathed. Compartmentalized. And started talking again.
“ You want to hurt Bruce, right? And, to do that, you need to kill the kid he loves the most between Damian and I.”
The leader smirked before nodding his head a little toward him. “You understand quickly.”
Damian made a hurtful noise beside him. Tim did his best to not look at him. The leader’s smile widened once again.
“ I would think that losing the blood son would hurt him more.”
Damian startled a little at the words. Tim knew how much Damian had used this exact term to reassure himself he was wanted in the family - he hated what he was about to say.
“ Well, maybe he’s the blood son, but he’s not the one Bruce chose. He really didn’t have a choice in his birth or anything else. Bruce wanted me, at least.”
“ That’s a good point,” nodded the leader.
Damian’s shoulders slumped under the hurt and fear. But Damian Wayne wasn’t one to admit defeat that quickly, and after a long breath, he straightened again, his hard gaze on the leader.
“ Don’t listen to Drake. He’s lying. No one wants him in the family. If anything, everyone will be happy about his death.”
Ouch . Way to hit close to home, Damian.
Tim still kept his gaze locked on the leader. He had to drag his attention away from his little brother and convince him he was the one he had to kill - seriously, what even was his life?
He snorted and put up his most disdainful face. “He wishes . He’s just jealous because I am loved. If anything, we all wish he was back with his mother.”
“ That’s not true!” immediately yelled Damian, and Tim felt a pang at his heart. He didn’t want to hurt the kid, but if it ended with his little brother safe and sound and alive , then it was worth it.
“ That’s true and you know it. Stop lying to yourself.” He used his most unyielding voice, so sure and final, like what he was saying was the ultimate truth and the answer to the universe.
Gosh, he hoped that he would have the time to apologize to Damian before dying.
The kid was shaking, now, big eyes fixed on him and so wet , so ready to cry.
The leader started laughing, interrupting the moment. “Well, boys, it was nice and all, but sadly we don’t have the whole day.”
Tim felt dread creeping inside him. He wasn’t ready - not at all.
A loud silence fell on the room. No one talked as the leader considered the two of them. Tim wasn’t even sure he was breathing anymore. Then, quietly, the leader walked toward them.
Toward Damian .
Tim felt the panic knotting inside his throat, forbidding him from talking, protesting, breathing. Then, like a second thought, the leader went toward him instead.
The relief washing over him was terrible - he shouldn’t be that relieved to be at Death’s doors. But - better him than Damian.
The leader placed the phial on his legs. “Go on, boy. Drink it.”
“ No!” yelled Damian. He tried to raise on his feet, probably to drink the damn thing himself - but the man behind him forced him to stay on his chair, his hand on the boy’s shoulder.
Tim reduced his shaking to the maximum as he quietly opened the phial. The potion didn’t smell like anything. The leader was towering over him, watching closely each of his movements.
He couldn’t escape this.
The phial was near his lips and his mouth and lungs and his whole body too soon. He couldn’t think about how he was about to die, probably in front of his little brother, how he couldn’t find any other solution, how it would probably be painful and terrible-
Tim breathed, then closed his eyes.
He drank the whole phial in one go.
The liquid was cold. Appropriate for a potion supposed to make him freeze to death, sure, but still somehow surprising. It didn’t taste like anything - or maybe like winter, and the chill air, cold wind, fresh snow. It tasted like ice and morning breeze, like when you forget your scarf and gloves and beanie and still go outside. It was so cold that Tim instantly felt numb inside, and he nearly wanted to cry.
It was done.
He was going to die.
“ Good boy,” crooned the leader, one of his hands coming so close to his face to brush his hair away.
Tim jerked away from the touch. The leader just gave him an amused smile, before holding his hand out at one of the goons; soon, he was in possession of Tim’s phone, confiscated at the beginning of their kidnapping.
Bruce was on his emergency contacts list, so it would probably be quick.
Tim tried to feel what was happening inside his body. For now, he wasn’t particularly cold, but there was a high probability for it to change soon. And he was... It felt like he was distancing himself from his feelings and body, a numbness way different that one caused by the cold.
Somehow, he missed the moment the call button got hit, but not the one where Bruce picked up.
“ Tim?” he said in a kind of distant voice, like he was looking at something else at the same instant. It was probably true.
Hearing his father’s voice brought tears to his eyes. Maybe - maybe it was the last time he would be able to hear Bruce. Maybe it would be his last conversation with his dad, and-
He hoped Bruce would take his death better than he took Jason’s. The others would probably make sure everything went well, at least.
It would be alright.
“ You still aren’t home, is everything okay?” Bruce sounded concerned, but not outright worried - he had no reason to be, after all. Not yet.
The leader smiled. “Hello there, Brucie.”
There was a silence on the other end. Then, Bruce started talking again, his voice hard and cold - as cold as the liquid had been. “Who are you? Where are my sons?”
The leader dropped his hand on Tim’s shoulder, squeezing it almost gently before chuckling. “Do not worry so much, I will tell you where they are soon enough.”
“ What do you want?” immediately asked Bruce, his voice more a growl than anything else.
“ Me? Nothing else than to give you the opportunity to talk a last time with your son before he dies. I am nice like that.”
Bruce let out a broken gasp. Damian twisted against the hold pinning him on the chair. Tim glared as the leader handed him the phone. He took it immediately, though.
After all - it was his last chance.
“ Hey, Dad,” he said oh so quietly. His throat wasn’t freezing over, not yet, but it might already be with how little he could talk.
“ Tim! What’s going on? Are you okay? Where’s Damian?”
Tim closed his eyes a second, still refusing to meet his little brother’s gaze, before answering. “It’s fine, Dad. Damian’s fine, he’s gonna stay fine. I swear.”
“ Tim. Please tell me what’s going on.” Bruce’s voice was pleading, now. Judging by the leader’s expression - full of glee and malice - it was the intent of the whole operation.
Tim also probably didn’t have more time.
“ It’s alright, Dad,” he said again. “I… Thank you for everything. I love you. Tell the others I love them, too.”
Bruce didn’t have the time to answer. The leader yanked the phone away from Tim’s grip, raising the phone to his ear. He quickly indicated the address before letting the device drop on the floor and smashing it.
Tim felt numb inside. He had said goodbye - he had heard his dad for the last time.
He kind of wanted to laugh hysterically and burst into tears at the same time.
“ Well, it was fun.” Even the voice was ringing in his ears. “Goodbye, boys.”
Tim didn’t realize the men left until Damian was in front of him, eyes wide and afraid, shaking him to get him out of his torpor.
“ Timothy! Timothy! ”
Tim came back to himself and took a long breath. His stomach and lungs were aching, buzzing with numbness.
Oh. That can’t be good , he thought distantly.
“ It’s okay, Damian,” he murmured.
“ It’s not okay- You idiot, why did you do that!”
“ He would have killed you if I didn’t.” It was so logical. So simple. Why didn’t Damian understand that?
“ I don’t fear death,” immediately answered Damian, with the same unyielding tone Tim had used earlier.
“ But you’re a kid,” protested Tim. He hadn’t processed it earlier but - but the cold was everywhere , now.
He didn’t have a lot of time left.
Damian started to protest once again, and Tim made him stop by putting his hand on his mouth. The kid rolled his eyes and glared at him, and Tim felt so much fondness he thought it could chase the cold away for a second.
“ Dames. You’re my little brother. I don’t want you to die.”
Damian faltered at that, his hands gripping at Tim’s vest. “Timothy…”
“ Shh. I’m sorry for what I said. I don’t think that. You’re-” He had a lump in his throat, and for an instant he feared not being able to say everything he was thinking. “You’re amazing. Have a lot… Nice things.” It was hard to think. Hard to talk. Hard to breathe. He vaguely felt himself sliding from the chair, falling on the ground, only his little brother’s arms to prevent him more injuries.
Not like it would matter soon.
“ Timothy, please -”
“ You’re doing great,” Tim mumbled.
His eyes hurt . It wouldn’t be that bad if he closed them for a little while, right? He just needed- here. Damian’s hand. He took it - the hand and even the fingers were so little in his, and yet Tim wasn’t a big guy - and squeezed it, slowly.
“ It’s okay, Dames,” he said again, maybe even lower than before, his mind unable to comprehend the words Damian was babbling in his ears now.
It would be alright.
“ L’ve you,” Tim finally managed to get out of his throat.
Then, he closed his eyes and let the cold take him away.
Damian was panicking.
First, Timothy making sure to be chosen to drink the - the poison . Then, the call to Father, and how Timothy had said goodbye .
And now - now, his big brother was dying and he had no idea what to do.
“ Timothy, please ,” he begged yet again, but Drake refused to open his eyes. His pulse was weaker and weaker under his finger, and his whole body was already so cold, and Damian was crying and so, so lost.
It had just come so suddenly. One moment Timothy was alright, the next he was so pale he was almost blue, his body cold from everywhere .
He had taken his hand. Damian refused to let go.
“ Timothy, please, don’t leave me. Don’t die.”
He didn’t care if someone saw him crying - it didn’t matter anymore. He needed to wake Timothy up, to have him be okay and alive . He felt so desperately scared, the panic bubbling into his stomach and the lump in his throat growing again and again, with each gasp and tears fallen from his eyes.
“ Please, Timothy.”
And what he had said . Before, to convince the man to give him the potion - and even if Damian had quickly realized what he had been doing, it had hurt, because Timothy had a talent with words and hitting where needed. And now - now, just before closing his eyes and falling unconscious, his heart not-so-slowly freezing and Damian unable to save him.
Timothy had apologized - it wasn’t, he shouldn’t have. Damian was the one who should apologize. And yet - he didn’t have the time.
Damian curled up on his brother’s body, doing his best to give him a little bit of his own warmth, his hand still holding Timothy’s.
“ Please. I’m sorry, don’t leave me, I don’t want you to die!”
He was sobbing, and he couldn’t stop, and it felt like he was dying.
“ Please, Timothy, you’re my big brother, don’t die!”
Damian couldn’t move, curled up and crying, gripping at Timothy with all his strength. No one would make him move - no one but Timothy.
Timothy couldn’t die - he had no right to. He couldn’t. Damian wanted to get to know him, and to bond with him, and to discover what his favorite dishes and favorite activities were, and everything else that siblings knew about each other. He wanted to keep patrolling by his sides, and walk Titus with him, and talk with him about books and movies and games and everything.
Timothy couldn’t die, because Damian-
Damian-
“ I love you, Timothy,” he sobbed, the realization tearing his heart apart.
The sobs and tears kept him from talking more. He didn’t want to say more, anyway - everything had been said.
Now, Damian just had to wait for his father to arrive and realize that one of his sons was dead because of Damian-
Maybe he would be sent back to the League, he thought with a strange detachment.
Probably not because Richard and Stephanie and maybe even Jason and Cassandra would fight for him, but still. Maybe it would be talked about.
Maybe Father would hate him, now.
Damian felt - strangely distant from everything. He wasn’t feeling his body anymore, and he should probably be worried about that, but - but he didn’t really care. He couldn’t feel like caring.
Everything was so numb .
It was the thump-thump that made him come back to himself.
The noise had faded away one or two minutes ago, but now- Now it was here . Strong and steady.
Damian took a shuddered breath as he came back into his body, suddenly feeling and hearing and tasting everything - the salt of his tears and of the air around them, the quiet noise against his ear, the warmth not coming from him only anymore.
A hand brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes, crushing a tear between a thumb and his cheek in the process.
“ My t-shirt is wet,” mumbled a voice - one Damian knew, and felt reasoning directly inside him.
He startled and raised his head, eyes wide and shocked.
“ Timothy? You’re alive ?”
“ Uh,” said Timothy, blinking owlishly. “I’m as surprised as you.”
They exchanged a glance. Then, without catching up with his brain first, Damian threw himself to his brother’s neck, knotting his fingers together and refusing to let go.
“ You’re alive,” he murmured, and he felt new tears coming.
“ Yeah,” murmured Timothy as well, his hand coming to pet his head, the other drawing circles on his back. “Yeah. I’m alive.”
They stayed like that, hugging each other like their lives depended on it, relief washing over them and swiping the pain and the fear away.
They barely moved when Father came through the door and fell to his knees beside them, his hands hovering without being sure where to place themselves first. They barely let go of each other when they had to raise to their feet and walk to the door and the car waiting outside. They barely stepped away from each other as they narrated the events to the police and their family, now safe at the Manor.
No one was surprised when Damian climbed into Timothy’s bed that night, his brother’s arms immediately closing around him and a relaxed sigh coming out of their mouths.
Damian fell asleep on the thrumming rhythm of Timothy’s heart, tucked safely against his brother’s warmth, and content with the knowledge of his big brother alive against him.