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He could feel the effects gnawing at his brain. Just at the corners.
Bruce never loved you. He was glad you died. Damian was happy to be rid of the burden. You were a replacement.
But it was moments like this, as he raced through the halls, hoping against hope that he got there in time, that he was grateful. His worst fears weren’t something to be seen. They were emotion-based. Mental.
Funny what dying did to you.
“He’s in there, Hood.” Jason’s voice echoed through his com. “I think you’re getting close.”
“Figured.” Tim replied. And he didn’t want to, but he didn’t want to go in blind, either. What good would he be if he got taken down by unexpected trouble before he reached their brother? He reached into his jacket and unholstered a gun. “Remember Robin, do not come in here. No matter what you see or hear, understand?”
“Hood-”
“Do you understand me?” Tim hissed.
Jason sighed, in annoyance born from worry. “Yes sir.”
“Good. Now, radio silence until I find him, unless there’s an emergency.”
Jason didn’t respond. Good boy.
No one ever loved you. The world was better when you were dead.
Tim closed his eyes. Took a deep breath and cocked the gun.
There wasn’t supposed to be anyone here. Crane was a madman, but he’d decided to clear out the building beforehand, so Tim guessed he had to give him credit for that. In reality, he didn’t know if Crane was still even in the building, or if this was some cat-and-mouse where the mouse escaped and the cats were trapped.
Jason had said Damian was screaming before his com cut out. So, as he trotted through the halls, he listened. He’d take anything - a scream, a shout, a sob, a whimper.
Because Tim knew what it was like to be surrounded by fear. By darkness. By no way out. And while he and Damian didn’t always get along, he wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy, let alone his…his brother.
And then, like a god somewhere was listening, there was a screech.
“Robin!”
Tim took off towards the sound. And he knew, he knew it was the fear toxin, knew it was nothing else, nothing else in the scene had changed. But…
Jason didn’t listen. Jason is in the building. Jason’s been captured.
Shoot. Shoot, shoot, shoot.
The corners of his vision were shifting. He could see flashes of green and red and that stupid yellow.
“Not here…” Tim breathed. “Robin is not here…”
“You touch him and I’ll kill you!”
Damian’s bellow was close. So close, Tim was embarrassed that he jumped. “Nightwing? Nightwing, can you hear me!”
Damian didn’t respond, but Tim could hear heavy breathing. Close, he was close.
You’ll be too late. Just like he was too late for you.
Tim squeezed the gun, pushing down the thought as far as he could.
“Hood.” Jason’s voice was soft, serious. “He’s in the room two doors down, on your right.”
“Thanks, kid.”
Tim trotted to the doorway, leaned against the wall right outside of it and looked in. Jason was right, Damian was in there, looking more disheveled than Tim had ever seen a Wayne. His uniform was torn, his mask broken. His face was twitching, going through a wave of different emotions all at once. Determination, anger, fear, relief, terror, fury, triumph, defeat.
Crane must have put him in this room on purpose, he didn’t wander in. There were posters on all the stone walls, and dolls hanging by their necks. Of Batman’s most common villains. Tim even recognized a few from Bludhaven.
And all of their likenesses were smeared with blood.
“‘Wing…”
Tim instantly saw why. At the sound of his voice - a voice to Damian, he apparently didn’t recognize it - Damian spun around, locating the Joker poster and viciously punching his fist against it.
Blood spurted from his fingers as he slammed his knuckles into the concrete. Over and over and over and over.
And judging by his other hand, by his elbows and knees and ankles, this wasn’t the first time.
“You. Will. Not. Take. My. Family. From. Me!” Damian enunciated each word with a punch.
“He won’t.” Tim called, and Damian’s fist stopped in midair. He didn’t turn towards the door, but he paused, and that was enough for him. “Congrats, Big Bird. You stopped him. You saved Jason.”
He hates you. You’re wasting your time. No one loved you, no one loved poor, sad, little Timothy Jackso-
“Not Jason.” Damian growled. “You. I will not let him take you.”
“Oh.” Tim hummed. “Well, he didn’t.” Tim suddenly felt nervous, a little flustered as he stuffed his gun back into the holster. “So, um. Thanks?”
“Hood.” Jason suddenly radioed in. “Batgirl just stopped by. She had the antidote. Gave it to me, and there’s enough for both of you. I’m right outside, ready when you are.”
“Got it.” Tim nodded to no one. “'Wing?
Damian spun around. His frantic eyes landed on Tim and his shoulders dropped.
"Oh, Drake…” He slowly approached, his hands hovering in Tim’s space. His eyes seemed to linger on certain spots. Tim’s face, his neck, his chest. “If I had gotten here sooner, perhaps…”
“Hey, I’m not dead.” Tim tried to smile. Maybe that would get through Damian’s fear-filled gaze. “So, that’s a plus.”
Damian frowned. “You sound too much like my…like our father.” Suddenly he reached out, clapping his hands on Tim’s shoulders before hoisting him up over his shoulder. “Come. Penny-One is already preparing the cave for a medical emergency. He’ll fix you up, and then three weeks bed rest, no argument.”
“Wha-…Nightwing!” Tim spluttered, fighting the childish need to hit Damian on the back. He didn’t even know how Damian was holding him, his blood was making everything slippery. “Put me down! I can walk!”
“You’ll aggravate your new injuries. Joker will take joy in that.” Damian explained stubbornly. “I will not give that man anymore joy, not if I can help it.”
Tim suddenly heard a snicker through his com. “Just go with it, Hood. He seems to be heading towards the exit. And the faster he gets out here, the faster we can fix you both up.”
“Please tell me Batgirl isn’t still out there.” Tim sighed, trying to ignore the bloody footprints Damian was leaving behind them. How was Nightwing even still standing?! “This is humiliating.”
“No, Cass went home.” Jason chuckled. “But don’t worry, I’ll take some pictures for her.”