Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

   Tim woke with a start. Everything was perfectly black. Was he blind? Where was he? What had just happened to him?

   He tried sitting up, but his head came into contact with wood. Ouch. Where…? I was… Stakeout. The crime family was… and we were… but I didn’t engage. His head really hurt. I guess I was ambushed.

   He raised his hands, but they met wood. Wood to the side. Wood up above. Wood all around him. Wood.

   An experimental push did nothing. He braced himself, pushing harder. Something was wrong with his right shoulder. I gotta get that---

   Dirt showered down on his face, and Tim gasped, the sound abnormally loud in the near-silence. Shit. I’ve been buried.

   He took a deep breath. Then another one. And then another. It would be okay, he decided; he could do this. First things first. Injuries? A strained shoulder, an old bloody nose, a concussion. Ouch. Bruises everywhere he could feel, which meant his unconscious body had probably been beaten around a little before they’d buried him. His feet were tied, and he couldn’t reach down to do anything about that. His belt & bandoleers were gone, and so was his phone. But his com--- Thank GOD. His com was still in his ear.

   He pressed the button to log into the channel, hoping against hope that someone else was still on patrol. Silence greeted his ear.

   “Hello?” he tried, his voice cracking over his dry throat. He swallowed nothing, licked his lips, and tried again. “This is Red Robin. Is anyone out there? I’m stuck; I need backup.”

   Silence.

   Tim’s throat constricted. “Please, can anyone hear me? Listen, I know it was a busy night, but I was jumped and I’m not sure where I am and I need help. Please, I’m trapped, I need… please, someone, ANYONE, do you read me?!”

   A loud sigh finally crackled over the comlink, and Tim went weak with relief. “You’re such a disappointment, Red. I mean, what the hell? You got caught on a STAKEOUT?”

   “Hood,” Tim breathed out. “Hood, please don’t---”

   “You’re lucky I’m still on coms, buddy; everyone else is in bed,” Hood grumbled tiredly. “I’ll text the big boss; he’ll get to you soon.”

   “Hood, wait, please!!!” Tim fought to keep his breathing steady, bracing his hands against the wood above his chest. “Hood, don’t hang up!!!”

   “GOD, birdie, will you just---”

   “Hood, I’m trapped, please don’t leave,” Tim choked out, his heartbeat thundering in his head. “They buried me alive, Jason, they BURIED me.”

   A long silence fell. When Hood’s voice returned, it was flat. “What.”

   “I’m buried, Hood,” Tim gasped out, spots dancing in his vision. “They took my belt and my gear and I can’t… I can’t…”

   “Red,” Hood’s voice called, sounding very far away. “Tim, you’re panicking right now; I need you to breathe. Come on baby bird, breathe with me, okay? In… out… in… come on, Tim, listen to me. Breathe. Good. Keep--- good, that’s it; keep going.”

   Tim fought with his body to obey. It seemed like forever before his breathing evened out once more, and he closed his eyes, ignoring the tears in his eyes. “Jason?”

   “I’m here.” Hood’s voice sounded tight. “I’m heading to your last seen location. The Bats are on their way out, too. We’re gonna find you, baby bird, okay? I’m gonna get you out.”

   “Okay,” Tim said breathlessly, knocking his head against the wood. “Yeah. Okay.”

   “Just breathe for a second,” Hood told him, calm.

   “Yeah,” Tim said again, licking his lips. He tasted blood. “I’m… I’m okay.”

   “Can you answer questions?”

   “Yes.”

   “Alright, deep breaths. Listen very carefully. Can you hear anything? You’re gonna have to take your com out for a second.”

   Tim’s heart shot into his throat. “What? No, I can’t---”

   “You CAN,” Hood growled back. “I’m not going anywhere, baby bird, I swear. Just take it out for a few seconds; tell me what you hear.”

   “Promise?” Tim bit out, clenching his hands so hard they shook. “Promise you’ll be here?”

   “I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

   Tim took a deep breath before digging the com out of his ear. He listened hard. The silence was deafening, and beyond that… nothing. No… something. A rushing sound. Cars? Water.

   He shoved the com back in, chest tight. “Jason?”

   “I’m here,” came the immediate answer. “What do you have?”

   “There’s… water, I think. I hear a rushing sound.” Tim blinked as something wet landed on his cheek. “Shit. Jason, I think I’m… water. There’s water leaking through the wood.”

   Jason released some heartfelt cursing. “You’re probably near the docks, then.”

   “The tide’s coming in,” Tim murmured, his heartbeat jumping in his chest. “I’m gonna drown.”

   “You’ll probably suffocate before you drown,” Hood reasoned tightly. “Although it’ll make it really hard to find the--- Hey, no, I’m just… Christ, I’m just thinking out loud, you don’t… Breathe, damn it. Deep slow breaths; I’m on my way.”

   “Jason,” Tim whispered thickly, pushing against the lid of the box. The dirt that showered down was a bit wetter this time.

   “I’m here, baby bird.”

   “Where is he?” Nightwing’s voice cut in, sharp as an edge of steel.

   “He’s by water; the tide’s coming in, so the box will be under in a few minutes unless we hurry,” Hood narrated breathlessly. “Oracle, come online, damn it. Do you have his location?”

   “I’m narrowing it down; hang on a sec.”

   “This is not the time to be sloppy,” Robin’s voice bit out, harsh to hide his worry. “Drake is buried and possibly drowning and if we do not find him before---”

   “Cut the chatter,” Batman’s voice ground out. “Tim, can you hear us? Give me a status report.”

   “He’s not gonna be able to---”

   “Nightwing, hush, just because you’re---”

   “Will you idiots just---”

   “EVERYONE SHUT UP!!!” Hood’s voice roared. Immediate silence fell over the coms.

   “Jason,” Tim gasped out, unable to stop the panicked whimper from entering his voice. “Please.”

   “I’m here,” Hood answered quietly, his voice much more soothing than it had been a second ago. “Deep breaths Tim, okay?”

   “Jason,” Tim burst out, his voice cracking. “I’m scared.”

   A deafening silence fell.

   “I know,” Hood finally answered, his tone strained. “I know, baby bird, and I’m coming as fast as I can. Just stay calm for me, alright? Let me hear you; deep breaths. I’m not going anywhere.”

   Tim struggled to follow Hood’s instructions, allowing his breaths to be heard over the com.

   “Good,” Hood praised soothingly, still breathless. “Good, keep counting them out. Oracle?”

   “I’ve got his last ping,” Oracle told him, steel in her tone. “The northeast dockyard behind Stan’s.”

   “ETA seven minutes,” Robin bit out.

   “ETA ten,” Batman’s voice answered.

   “Four,” Hood put in, and he grunted as his grapple snapped up his weight. “We’re coming now, Red, okay? Just keep breathing.”

   “I’m---” Tim forced himself to quiet. Panicking would not help. Begging would not help. Crying WOULD NOT help. He had to stay quiet. Focus. Assess. Reevaluate.

   “What if---” He choked on his words. Stopped. Breathed. Focused. The line was silent except for occasionally heavy breathing, and he knew, distantly, that his family was rushing to converge on his position. He’d be out in another ten minutes. TOPS.

   He opened his mouth, feeling his jaw tremble. “What if you don’t make it?”

   “We’ll make it,” Batman immediately growled, his tone practically DARING fate to take another Robin away before he got there in time. It was a helpless promise, and it made Tim’s stomach clench.

   “I’ll make it,” Hood said gruffly, and for some reason, the meaning was different. Tim felt himself take another breath. That didn’t make sense. Hood had lied to him SO MANY TIMES; he had broken Tim’s body & left him for dead; he had ridiculed, roasted, and taunted the younger teen to no end. He had made these promises before. They had been LIES.

   So why did Tim suddenly feel hope?

   “I’ll make it,” Hood said again, his tone firmer, but something else now. Desperate. “You’re going to get out, baby bird, I swear it. I’m going to pull you up myself, do you hear me?”

   Tim sucked in deep breaths. Hood’s words sounded oddly prophetic, and even through the panic, an odd sense of peace settled in Tim’s gut.

   “No more dead Robins,” Hood was saying, and his mechanized tone cut right through the sound of water seeping into Tim’s narrow box. Batman made a pained grunt. Was that Tim’s imagination? “Deep breaths for me, Red. C’mon, say it. No more dead Robins.”

   “No more dead Robins,” Tim repeated numbly, pushing at the lid of his box. More muddied water splashed in, and he choked, pulling his arms to his chest. “No… no more dead Robins. No more dead Robins. No more dead… no more. Dead. Robins.”

   “Good,” Hood praised distantly. “Keep breathing just like that. I’m almost there.”

   “No more dead Robins,” Tim repeated hoarsely, closing his eyes. He felt tears well up behind the lenses of his mask. He was going to drown. No… he was going to suffocate. He’d been in here a while, and the rising tide was cutting off more oxygen. No one would find him under the water. He would die in a grave already prepared.

   At least it would save his family funeral costs.

   “No…” he choked out, struggling to focus. The air was thin, but he had something real to tether him to reality, and as long as he kept repeating it, he was alive. “No more dead Robins. No more dead Robins. No more dead Robins.”

   Hood’s voice muttered along in the background. Tim lost count of the repetition. All he knew was breathing. One sentence at a time. In. Out.

   “I found a shovel,” Hood suddenly cut in. “That means that you’re probably not buried six feet; no one has time to dig a full grave at low tide without a backhoe.”

   “Jason,” Tim wheezed out, pushing at the lid again. Don’t do that, his brain warned, but everything was getting fuzzy and the walls were closing in and he was lying in two inches of water now and he NEEDED OUT. “Please.”

   “Hey, keep saying it,” Hood’s voice growled. “I’m coming; keep talking to me. No more dead what?”

   “Robins,” Tim gasped out. He struggled to remember the rest. “No… No more dead Robins. Robins.”

   “Good, keep going. I found the marks in the mud; this is you.” Hood grunted a few times. He was digging. “C’mon, baby bird. No more what?”

   “Robin,” Tim gasped out, his vision swimming. Panic squeezed his chest. Terror. “Robin.”

   The com fell silent.

   “Robin,” Tim whimpered breathlessly, fumbling at his side for tools that weren’t there. “Please, Robin, please…”

   “Yeah,” the voice answered, strained, but achingly familiar. “Yeah… I’m here.”

   “I’m sorry,” Tim rasped out, closing his eyes again. “There’s… There’s so much… I never…”

   “Hey, don’t do that,” the voice cut in, sharp. “Don’t say that stuff; save it for another day. You’re not dying, baby bird. I’m getting you out. You’re almost out. No more dead Robins.”

   “No more dead Robins.” Tim sucked in a shallow breath. “No more d… dead…”

   Something hit the top of the box, and Tim jolted, adrenaline spiking through his oxygen-deprived brain. A moment later, the lid was wrenched open to the cloudy night sky, and water was pouring in on all sides and Tim was drowning and---

   A gloved hand reached down, grasping his arm, tugging. Tim didn’t have to do more than brace his tied legs, because the arm heaved him out of the box as if he weighed nothing, instantly pinning him to an armored chest.

   “Robin,” Tim muttered shakily, clutching at the shoulders that bracketed him like a promise.

   “I’ve got you,” Jason’s voice affirmed, and it shook, but it was REAL, and Tim tucked his face against an armored throat like it was the only safe place in the entire world. A gentle hand pressed to his wet hair, and the other held him tight. “I’ve got you, baby bird; you’re okay.”

   “Please don’t leave,” Tim whispered hoarsely.

   “I won’t.” A human chin pressed to Tim’s hair, digging against his skull. Territorial body-language.

   Tim sagged in relief, finally allowing himself to drift. His brain was too tired to keep up with it; rescue and hug and relief and old panic and new fears and scathing whispers all at once. He just wanted to BREATHE. “No more dead Robins.”

   Robin made a strangled sound, but the arms hugged him tighter, keeping him safe. “Yeah… damn straight.”

   Tim would be okay.

Chapter Text

   Jason woke up to the sound of rain, and his entire body spasmed as he reached for freedom.

   Empty open air. Bedsheets. Shadows. Blanket. Window.

   He took a deep breath as he came back to reality. He was safe.

   But Tim was gone.

   Jason carefully untangled himself, got out of bed, and headed down the hall. He was looking in corners, but when he took a left turn, he jumped. Tim wasn’t in a corner. Tim was just STANDING there. Tim was staring out of a courtyard door at the rain, arms crossed, shivering.

   Jason watched him for a moment. Then he stepped forward. Those weren’t shadows of raindrops on his little brother’s face.

   Tim turned to look, moving like a ghost. Jason couldn’t see his eyes, but it wasn’t too dark to see his hands clenching into fists.

   “Why?” Tim whispered hoarsely. “Why am I so scared? I’ve been through worse.”

   Jason kinda shrugged. He didn’t really have an answer for that. Most of the time it wasn’t Joker’s face he dreamed about; it was the crowbar or the rain or the color of poisonous green. He knew what it was like. What he didn’t know was why.

   Tim brought one hand up to scrub furiously at his face. “You know what it’s like, right? To feel so trapped? To know the only escape is up, and if you don’t make it, you’ll just suffocate? Or… or drown?”

   “Yeah,” Jason whispered softly. His throat was dry. “I know.”

   Tim crossed his arms again, shoulders hunched. He was crying, but he wasn’t making any noise. He wasn’t moving. He was just… drowning.

   Jason stepped closer, tugging the kid against his chest. He didn’t know if a tight hug would make things worse. It might. But he couldn’t help the way that he clutched his brother close, then closer, arms wrapped around his shivering frame in a poor promise of protection. Safety that didn’t matter now, because the horror wasn’t physical anymore.

   Still. Jason would offer.

   Tim turned his head sideways against a broad chest, taking a deep breath. The harder Jason squeezed, the more he relaxed. Jason knew he was listening for a heartbeat, so he breathed deeper. He listened for Tim’s own.

   “I’m sorry,” Tim finally whispered. He wriggled a little, as if afraid Jason would push him away. “I know it caused you pain.”

   Jason carefully considered. He ran a hand through Tim’s hair. When the kid puffed a relieved sigh, he did it again, confident now of his words. “I’m just glad you’re safe. Everything else can be handled.”

   “… yeah.” Tim tucked his face against Jason’s throat, sniffing. “I guess so.”

************

   Tim woke up with a start, gasping. No air came. He was dying.

   “Shhhhhhhhhhh,” someone whispered. Large hands tugged him over, rolling him onto his stomach. Rubbing gentle circles into his back. Keeping him grounded. “You’re safe now. Safe.”

   Tim squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember how to breathe. It was easier now that he wasn’t on his back.

   When his heartbeat had reached some semblance of normal, Tim turned his head, blinking at the darkness. A familiar figure sat by his side. The hand continued to rub his back.

   “How many days has it been?” he whispered hoarsely, relaxing to the kind touch.

   “Three,” was the low answer. The hand paused, and another one brushed Tim’s face, tucking some stray bed-head behind his ear. “It’ll get better soon. I promise.”

   Tim released a sigh, closing his eyes, and allowed the soothing circles against his spine to coax him back to sleep.

************

   Tim woke up again. He woke up all the time now, half-soaked & drowning, forgetting how to breathe. But this time was different. This time he was alone.

   He flung himself out of bed, dashed down the hall, and threw himself into the kitchen. Alfred would know what had happened. Alfred knew everything.

   Jason looked up from the cookbook he was reading, red-rimmed eyes widened in surprise.

   Tim’s gaze blurred, and he looked down, clenching his fists. All that came out was, “It’s too early to make food.”

   Jason leaned over the counter, gently brushing a thumb over Tim’s wet face. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t actually plan on eating it.”

   Tim wiped his other eye with his sleeve, stepping closer to his brother’s warmth, and allowed Jay’s deep tone to draw him into the fascinating explanation of fluffy triple-chocolate pancakes.

************

   “You’re losing your grip,” Damian finally decided, eyeing the wall Tim had just punched with distaste. “That wallpaper is priceless.”

   “Dami,” Dick chided softly.

   Tim’s ears burned, and he whirled on his heel. They could continue the meal without him.

   Jason’s gentle hand landed on his shoulder a few hallways down. “Hey.”

   Tim turned burning eyes on his brother, scowling. “What set me off?”

   Jay held up his hands. Empty. Pacifying. “I don’t know.”

   Tim turned away again, rubbing his face with his sleeve. “It shouldn’t be this hard.”

   “I get it, believe me. You’re handling things… admirably… in comparison.”

   Tim considered that. Yeah. He wasn’t KILLING anyone. So maybe he was.

   Jason ran a hand through Tim’s hair a few times. Gentle. Tim hated how much it helped. He didn’t want to be babied.

   He never felt that way when it was Jason, though.

   “You wanna go back?” his big brother finally ventured.

   Tim shook his head, ashamed. Jason seemed to understand. He tugged gently on Tim’s sleeve, leading him further down the hallway. Into the family library. Through shelves of books. Straight to the beanbag corner.

   Tim sank down face-first, sighing. Jason sank next to him, also on his stomach, and began reading.

   It didn’t matter what book it was. Everything became peaceful. And that was perfect.

************

   Jason shot up, struggling against the blankets, hard terrified fury in his glowing green eyes.

   Dick jumped back, surprised, but Tim jumped forward. He’d known this was coming ever since Jay drifted off in the middle of the movie. Sleep wasn’t that simple anymore.

   Jason was different than him. He didn’t thrash to escape like Tim did. He was ANGRY.

   Tim tackled him, rolling Jay onto his stomach, and dropped, defenseless, by his side. And he waited as Jason got a chance to breathe.

   “Tim?” Dick whispered uncertainly.

   “He’s scared,” Tim quietly offered. He wasn’t sure what else to say. Wasn’t it obvious?

   Jason’s heaving body finally shuddered, and he knocked his forehead against the floor, groaning. “Sorry.”

   Tim ignored the stares of his other brothers, curling up with his head against Jason’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

************

   Tim hugged himself tightly when he woke up. He didn’t scream. He didn’t cry. He didn’t panic. He only startled awake, and he breathed.

   Jason breathed next to him. He slept on his side. They both did.

   It had been two weeks, and neither of them had kicked the other out yet. Tim wasn’t sure what that said about them. That they didn’t want to be alone. That they were scared. That they had stopped taking each other for granted.

   Jason’s hand rested in Tim’s hair. “You’re safe here.”

   Tim released a sigh, rolling closer. He closed his eyes to the warm heartbeat under his ear, reveling in the strong arm that hugged him close & the firm chin tucked into his hair. And he whispered, “I know.”

   The arm pressed him closer. “No more dead Robins.”

   Tim untangled one arm, hugging back. “Damn straight.”

Chapter Text

   Robin spat dirt from his mouth, seething. “Oracle!!! I thought you said this building was safe!!!”

   “It was,” she answered calmly. “Your fleeing villain was the one that tore up the second floor, not me. Are you hurt?”

   “No.” Robin struggled to his feet, brushing himself off. “It is lucky were were not buried.”

   “… buried?” Oracle asked carefully.

   “A large pile of earth from the dig cushioned our fall, and no debris landed too close.” Robin took a moment to scan the building above. “We appear to be in no more danger, but our quarry is gone. Get me a ping on his last---”

   “Robin, listen to me,” Oracle cut in. “Please check on Red. He isn’t answering his com; his heart-rate is too fast.”

   Robin looked around, scowling at the distant figure struggling from the dirt. “He is fine.”

   “Get him out of there.”

   “Why---”

   “Robin.”

   The young vigilante barely restrained a nasty retort, reminding himself that this was Oracle & she would mess with his personal tech if aggravated. “Copy. Red Robin, report.”

   Red fell to one knee, gasping.

   Robin jerked forward, hands outstretched. “Drake?”

   The teen didn’t answer him. He frantically brushed at his suit, knocking off clumps of dirt. Robin hesitated only a moment before joining the effort.

   Something heavy thudded nearby, and Robin automatically snarled. “Todd.”

   “Names,” the man muttered, removing his helmet to reveal a domino. He grasped Red’s elbow, yanking him from the pile of dirt, and finished brushing him off once they were on more solid ground. His huge hands were strangely gentle.

   Red stared down at his dirt-spattered chest, heaving. “I’m okay.”

   “Yeah you are.” Hood rested a heavy hand on his shoulder, flicking up Red’s lenses to peer at his eyes. “Deep breaths.”

   “It’s in my mouth,” Red mumbled quietly.

   Robin grew utterly still. Of course. How had he forgotten? It had only been three weeks. Red Robin had appeared to function at normal capacity until---

   the dirt.

   Robin reached out, rubbing his thumb across the Red Robin emblem. The older vigilante watched his motions with wide eyes. Carefully, Robin scraped every speck of dirt from the red & gold circle until it shone.

   Red released a shaky sigh. “Thanks.”

   Robin turned away. “Tt. Take him for ice-cream, Hood. I will find our target.”

************

   Cassandra blinked into the kitchen, curious.

   Tim blinked back, shifting his weight. Some misplaced tension. Shoulders. Neck. Mouth. Scared; guilty; defensive.

   “Little brother,” Cass finally hummed, moving around the island to snag her favorite mug from the cabinet.

   Tim shifted away from the stove, anticipating her goal. “Tea?”

   “Yes.” Cass gave him a kind smile. “You? Nightmare? Food?”

   Tim blinked owlishly, then nodded.

   Cass put on the water for her tea, then opened the fridge, pulling out some leftovers. “Hungry, or scared?”

   “Uhm,” Tim muttered shyly. “Both. I’m. I missed dinner.”

   Cass nodded seriously, gliding around the kitchen to warm up some of her favorite pastries from dessert, then fetch a second mug. When she passed Tim, she gently pushed him down onto a bar-stool, ruffling his hair with a fond smile.

   Tim leaned into her hand, surprised. His shoulders eased, and he rested his hands on the counter, palms exposed. Relaxed; feeling safe.

   Cass mentally nodded, then returned to her preparation of tea. “Talk?”

   Tim shook his head, eyes on the counter, and turned his palms down. Sensitive; feeling exposed.

   “Talk about anything,” Cass elaborated hopefully. “Movie? Project? Book?”

   Tim looked up, hesitant. His shoulders went back. Surprised; new interest. “Yeah, that would… Anything… Anything you wanna hear about?”

   Cass leaned against the counter backwards, her head tilted upside-down to communicate hilarity, openness & trust. She grinned softly. “Star Wars?”

   Tim laughed quietly, his eyebrows up & his eyes clear. Interest; amusement; focus. “Which ONES? Don’t get me wrong, the new movies are kinda-sorta okay, but they’ve got NOTHING on the original three.”

   Cass prepared their desserts & tea, adding milk to hers but milk AND honey to Tim’s. Then she sat by his side to eat, listening to her brother’s rambling with intense focus. Nodding. Exclaiming. Asking the right questions when he paused for breath.

   Tim felt safe here, in this atmosphere Cass could create. She was happy.

************

   Bruce grunted as he slid out of the Batmobile. Red Robin exited the other side, his movements jerky & irritated.

   “My my my,” Alfred said dryly, gesturing Bruce to the med-bay. “Are we needing stitches after a night with Killer Croc? How very unconventional. You really must learn to be comfortable with tradition, Master Bruce.”

   “He almost bled out,” Tim muttered dazedly, glaring at Bruce for good measure. “Take your time patching him up. I’m going to shower.”

   “A rough one, then?” Alfred asked calmly, sitting Bruce down to attend to his arm.

   “I’m not sure,” Bruce admitted anxiously, watching his son retreat across the cave. “He seemed fine after the fight. A little angry, maybe. I must have said something wrong on the ride back.”

   “Could it be, sir, that the ride was exactly the problem?” Alfred asked mildly, cleaning the wound before threading a needle.

   Bruce considered for a moment, guilt bleeding into his thoughts like an awful stain. “… He has claustrophobia now. I didn’t…”

   “You didn’t think driving in a low-roofed car in the middle of an adrenaline come-down after seeing you almost bleed to death would set him off?” Alfred finished sagely, his eyes on his work.

   Bruce winced in shame. Almost too late, almost too late, almost too late--- “I didn’t… realize.”

   “You were injured. Of course you didn’t.”

   “Patrol doesn’t end for another two hours. He didn’t have to come back.”

   “That he did not.” Alfred met Bruce’s eyes, solemn. “In the event that you might not have made it back without injuring yourself further, and to assuage his own anxiety for your health, I imagine he insisted.”

   Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose. Almost too late, neglectful, forgetful, careless. “Is this lecture supposed to guilt me or give me a solution?”

   “I merely draw attention to the obvious, sir,” Alfred said lightly, a hint of a smile tugging at his face.

   Bruce glared at the ground as his wound was sewn shut.

   When Tim came out of the shower, exhausted & dwarfed in his older brother’s clothes, he clearly didn’t expect Bruce to be waiting. His spine straightened instantly, anxiety tensing his shoulders. He tried for a frown, pointing. “The med-bay is that way, Bruce. Sleep is a wonderful cure.”

   Bruce approached him with an annoying limp, grunting. “Thanks.”

   Tim blinked rapidly. “What?”

   “For helping me,” Bruce said quietly. He reached out with his good arm, snagging Tim close before the boy could react. “Thank you.”

   Tim was stiff for all of two seconds before sagging in Bruce’s hold, metaphorical strings cut. He was shaking. Bruce hadn’t noticed that until now. Almost too late, my son, my partner, my fault...

   The man shifted his grip, tucking his son closer with a soft grumble. “You’re okay.”

   “No shit,” Tim mumbled tersely. He hid his face against Bruce’s collarbone, and Bruce felt tears.

   He held his son tightly while he cried.

************

   Nightwing groaned quietly. Of all the nights to be beaten & strangled half to death in a fight against Poison Ivy, then trapped in the partially-demolished sewers, this night was not a good one. He had work tomorrow.

   “Are you alright, son?” one of the older officers asked, holding out a hand in the beams of sweeping flashlights.

   “I’ll be better once I give Ivy a headache for her trouble,” Nightwing muttered as he took the offered hand, hauling himself up. “How’d she get this stuff to grow through concrete?”

   “Dunno, but it packs a hell of a punch,” someone else muttered.

   Nightwing smiled ruefully as he checked himself for injuries. Seven officers in total, all trapped alongside him under plants & rubble. That’d teach him to chase Ivy with a task-force. “Is anyone hurt?”

   “No, but there are flowers on the vines,” the older officer noted, staying a safe distance from the walls of green covering their exits. “They’re too thick to cut through; your partner’s still trying.”

   Nightwing whirled on his heel, heart in his throat. “Red?”

   The younger vigilante, still hacking away at a thick wall of green, didn’t answer. The flowers around him were torn to shreds.

   Nightwing cursed under his breath, taking a vial from his belt & injecting himself before hurrying over. “No one touch the blooms!!! Hey hey hey, slow down, buddy.”

   “N,” Red gasped out, shuddering. “It won’t budge.”

   “It’s pretty thick,” Nightwing agreed mildly. “Batman is capturing Ivy right now, and Hood’s coming to get us out, alright? We just gotta wait for him & his bazooka to get here.”

   Red dropped his birdarang, wrapping his arms around his middle. “It’s cold; I…”

   Nightwing stepped closer, arms extending. “You hacked through a bunch of cuddle-pollen, bud.”

   Red tipped against Nightwing’s chest, gasping. The exact moment that he relaxed was precious, muscles unspooling in the older vigilante’s warm hug.

   Nightwing hummed softly, rubbing circles into his brother’s back. “Better?”

   Red wrapped his arms around Nightwing’s chest, shuddering. “It was so… It was cold, N.”

   The smile slipped from Nightwing’s face. Dark closed spaces; cold; damp water at our feet. “I know, baby bird. I’m so sorry.”

   Red’s arms tightened. “I wanna go home.”

   “We’re going home as soon as we get out, okay? Take deep breaths; you’re alright.” Nightwing rested his chin in his brother’s hair. “I’m here; you’re safe. We’ll be out in ten minutes tops.”

   “Seven,” Hood grunted over coms. “Take it easy, baby bird; we’re on our way.”

   Red nodded silently, tucking his head into the juncture of Nightwing’s shoulder.

   Nightwing held his little brother as he breathed.

************

   “Y’know,” Dick said conversationally. “You used to hate him.”

   Jason glanced from the movie with a glare. Dick’s eyes were on the screen, but they weren’t focused. His empty bowl of popcorn rested between him & Damian, who was almost asleep.

   Jason tossed some popcorn into his mouth instead of snapping a retort. He had a sleeping baby bird sprawled across his chest; any loud noises might wake the kid up.

   Dick finally glanced over, smiling ruefully. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… we’ve come so far, y’know? Everything was chaos a year ago.”

   “Everything’s still chaos.”

   “You know what I mean.”

   Jason grunted quietly, running his fingers through Tim’s damp hair. “I guess.”

   “Do you still get mad at him?”

   Jason looked up, startled. Damian was asleep now, or very good at faking it. Dick’s eyes stared directly into Jason’s, anxious.

   Jason lowered the movie’s volume, staring his brother down. “Why are you asking me this?”

   “DO you?” Dick repeated insistently. “I just… wanna understand.”

   Jason’s eyebrows lowered into a glare. “There’s nothing to understand. I was scared and angry and hurt, and the Pit knocked everything up to eleven. I made some really bad choices, and now I’m trying to make things up. Why are you prying, Dick?”

   “I’m not.” Dick held his hands up, grimacing. “It came out wrong. I’m sorry. I wasn’t asking because I don’t trust you.”

   Jason leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling with a lump in his throat. “I know. I’m… I can’t forget what it felt like.” He closed his eyes. “Gives me nightmares.”

   Dick made a soft noise of sympathy. The quiet hum of the movie filled the background. Tim’s breathing was steady. It was peaceful.

   Jason continued threading his fingers through his little brother’s hair, contemplating. “I do, I guess. He does make me mad. Just… not for the same reasons.”

   Dick’s silence prompted elaboration.

   “I’m not perfect. I’m the antithesis, really.” Jason rested his other hand flat on Tim’s back, reassuring himself with the steady rise & fall that indicated sleep. “I still get petty. Little things like dirt on my bike or a misplaced comment or a bad prank; it all gets to me, sometimes. Y’know.”

   “Like any sibling,” Dick finished warmly.

   Jason grunted quietly. “There are worse things. He looks like a corpse when he doesn’t sleep, and I just wanna… It would be so easy to break his neck. I don’t want to, I swear. It’s just… He makes it look so easy. And I get really mad at him, cause I’m not going to, but what if someone did? What if it was me someday? He’s amazing as Robin, but as Tim, it’s like he doesn’t…”

   “He’s not very self-aware,” Dick put in helpfully. “He doesn’t seem to put very much priority on his safety or health.”

   Jason chuckled dryly. “It’s probably not his fault; mindset of how you’re raised an’ all that. Still. It just… I get…”

   “I do, too,” Dick said quietly. “I’ve lashed out because of it. He thinks I get mad because of his mistakes or because I don’t understand.” A soft sigh. “Granted, sometimes I don’t.”

   Jason glared halfheartedly at the kid sprawled on his chest. “We care so much that we get angry?”

   “Yeah. Things would be a lot simpler if we hated each other.” Dick shifted a little, moving the popcorn bowl in order to pull Damian against his side. The boy automatically curled up under Dick’s arm, a light scowl on his face even in sleep.

   “We can’t force them to be happy,” Dick said quietly. “but we can help, y’know? We can get angry for the right reasons.”

   Tim suddenly whined, a shiver wracking his body. “P’lse…”

   Jason immediately wrapped his arms around his brother’s shoulders, softening his voice. “Shhhhh. You’re safe now, baby bird. It’s alright.”

   “Pollen,” Tim mumbled eloquently.

   “Yeah.” Jason hugged his Robin tighter. “It’ll run its course by morning.”

   “Mkay.” Tim sleepily fisted Jason’s shirt, tucking his head under the older boy’s chin. “Y’re best brother.”

   Jason felt his face heat up. “I think you mean Goldie, baby bird.”

   “Mmm. No. You.”

   Dick laughed quietly. Jason tried not to react while he listened to Tim’s breaths, each one coaxing him deeper into sleep.

   “The right reasons,” Jason finally agreed.