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Tim’s back was pressed hard up against the bathroom wall, feet scrambling for purchase as he tried to get away from whatever memory he was trapped in. His fingers dug into his chest, clawing at it as if it would help him breathe.
“Drake,” Damian said, his voice shaking. “Look at me, hey look at me!”
Tim slammed his head back and Damian flinched, hands hovering just above Tim, knowing not to touch him but not knowing what to do instead.
“Drake,” Damian tried again. “It’s just fear toxin, get a hold of yourself. It’s not real. None of it is real.”
It was no use, Tim was too far gone. He needed Dick, or Alfred, or anyone other than Damian. But it was just the two of them here. Comms were down, cell towers too, and if Damian left him to find the others Tim might accidentally hurt himself.
They were alone.
A wretched sob echoed against the tiles and Tim’s whole body shuddered as tears streamed down his face. Damian’s jaw hurt from clenching it so hard but as Tim gave off an outright scream, Damian’s own chest hurt.
“Drake I’m here.” Damian said. “I’m right here, just look at me. Just-”
“I’ll kill you!” Tim roared. “I’ll fucking kill you!”
Damian knew that Tim was just scared and yet his hand still twitched, reaching for a sword that wasn’t there. He’d dropped it back on the street in his rush to get Tim to safety, knowing that he had been exposed to Scarecrows newest concoction.
Tim hadn’t been so bad then, barely dazed, and yet now he was inconsolable. Whatever rage that Tim had melted away and he cried harder than ever, clawing at his chest and kicking out his legs.
“Please!” Tim’s voice was desperate, his hands shaking. “Please don’t! Don’t touch him!”
“Drake…”
“I’ll do anything! Please. You can’t… You can’t!”
Tim’s chest heaved, eyes fluttering as if he was barely even holding onto consciousness. He wasn’t listening, he was simply too far deep into his own hallucination that he wasn’t listening and he was barely breathing and there wasn’t anything Damian could do and fuck, Tim was screaming again.
There was sweat mingling with Tim’s tears, his whole body shuddering.
“Drake it’s not real.” Damian said.
“Don’t touch him!” Tim screeched. “Don’t you fucking touch him!”
“Drake, no one else is here. You’re safe.”
“I’ll kill you! If you hurt him I swear I’ll kill you!”
Damian rocked back on his heels, blowing out a hot breath.
He didn’t know what to do. He should know. He knew he should know. Tim had panic attacks and dissociative episodes, same as most of them. With the things that Tim has been through, it was only natural. Hell, Damian had them too so he knew just how much they hurt, just like how Damian knew how fear toxin can make everything else so much worse.
But whenever Tim got like this, Damian would just get Dick. Dick was always so good with Tim, he was so good with everyone Damian included.
Okay, Dick wasn’t here but that was fine. What else usually helped? Weighted blankets. Tim always felt more grounded with a weighted blanket. They had some littered throughout Wayne Manor, in spots that were always easy to reach while not seeming out of place to any guests that came by.
Damian knew that even Jason’s safe houses had them, no matter how much Jason griped about people sneaking into them, as if he knew that Tim might need one. This wasn’t a safe house, it was just an abandoned apartment that they had stumbled into to get off the street but maybe there would be a heavy blanket left in the closet.
“I’ll be right back.” Damian said.
Tim’s hand shot out, clutching onto Damian’s arm, nails digging into the fabric of his suit. Damian forced down the surge of his own panic, breathing through it.
“Drake, I’ll be back.”
“Don’t, don’t, please don’t… Please you can’t. Don’t touch him. Don’t touch him!”
Tim’s grip tightened and Damian bit back a hiss, his bones grinding.
“Let go.” Damian said tightly.
“You can’t touch him. I won’t let you. I’ll kill you. Touch him and I’ll kill you.”
“Drake let go.”
Tim jolted backwards again, slamming against the wall. His hand at last released, more out of reflex than because he actually meant to and Damian scrambled up, taking the chance. Damian’s arm ached but he ignored it, rushing out of the bathroom.
Damian’s legs felt weak but he ignored that too.
A scream echoed behind him as Damian reached the master bedroom. There was only a bed frame and a an old mattress that was leaning up against the wall. He threw open the closest but it was empty. Damian surged to get to the guest bedroom instead but that was empty too.
Tim’s voice sounded like he was in terrible pain and it clawed deep into Damian’s chest.
He should have never left Tim alone. Wait, there was something in the top corner of the closet. Damian reached up but he was too short. He growled, jumping up and his hand grazed against a rough fabric. Damian’s legs buckled as he landed and he barely caught himself on the side of the closet.
There were voices near by, not Tim’s but still familiar. Damian tensed, fearing that someone was here to hurt Tim, but he steadied himself as his vision cleared. Damian swallowed roughly, glancing back up at the thing on the top of the shelf.
Damian tried to reach it again, at last pulling down an old blanket. Damian sneered at it, the texture terrible. Damian considered the benefits of the weight vs the possibility of the scratchy fabric just sending Tim further over the edge. He let the blanket fall, kicking it for good measure.
Tim was screaming again but when Damian rushed to return to him, the world shifted beneath him. Damian braced himself against the wall, head spinning all over again. Damian blinked quickly but the blurs weren’t clearing.
Damian steeled himself, needing to get back to Tim but his legs were jelly and the moment he took a step, he pitched forward. Damian caught himself on his hands and knees, vision pulsing.
“You’re safe, Dami,” A voice echoed. “You’re safe.”
Damian shook his head, knowing Dick wasn’t there, but it only made him more dizzy. He took in a deep shuddering breath and pushed himself up.
Tim was still in the bathroom but now he was curled tight in a ball, his whole body shaking as he sobbed.
“Drake!”
If Tim could hear him, the only sign he gave was a terrible gasp.
“Drake, it’s not real. None of it is real.”
Tim whined.
Damian gnawed on his bottom lip. He should have brought along the blanket after all but he couldn’t bear the thought of going back for it and leaving Tim alone all over again.
Not knowing what else to do, Damian fell to his knees and hugged Tim. Tim thrashed against him, screaming threats, but Damian held tight and put his chin on Tim’s head while his arms wrapped around him as far as the could go.
Tim roared but Damian wouldn’t let go, couldn’t let go. This was Tim. Damian could not ever let him go.
“Breathe, Drake.” Damian growled. “It’s fear toxin. Without an antidote, you just need to breathe through it.”
“Don’t touch him! You can’t touch him!”
“Breathe, Drake, please, you need to breathe.”
“I’ll kill you!”
Damian held him tighter.
Tim shifted in Damian’s arms and while he braced for a punch to his ribs, Tim only latched onto Damian, burying his head into Damian’s chest. Tim shook strongly but Damian kept him steady.
“That’s it…” A voice so like Dick’s echoed. “That’s it Dami,”
“You can’t,” Tim sobbed. “I won’t let you. He’s my brother, I won’t let you hurt him.”
“Deep breathes Dami.” The ghost of Dick echoed.
Damian’s head was spinning again. He let Tim sob into his chest, fingers digging into Tim’s spine in an attempt to ground him as much as possible.
“Drake,” Damian said. “It’s fear toxin. It’s not real.”
“Not real, not real.” Tim echoed with a whine. “I’ll kill you. Don’t hurt him, I’ll kill you! Leave Damian alone!”
Tim was rocking in Damian’s arms. Damian couldn’t do this. He didn’t know what Tim needed from him because Damian wasn’t good with things like this, he was only good at fighting. He was good at killing, even if he didn’t want to do that anymore, even if he wanted to follow in his Father’s footsteps.
Tim’s fists tightened on Damian’s shirt and he sobbed hard.
“It’s no use.”
Damian hadn’t said that, but neither had Dick’s ghost. It was another voice, one that bounced off of the walls around them. One that was just as familiar as the others though. Jason. But Jason wasn’t here.
It was just Damian and Tim and Tim wasn’t himself right now.
“He’s fighting it.” Jason’s ghost growled. “Brat, you need to breathe.”
Damian blinked quickly. One arm still wrapped tightly around Tim, the other hand fumbled for his communicator. He activated it, hearing nothing but static. Comms were still down and yet it was like Jason was so close to him.
Tim shuddered and Damian set his chin on Tim’s head once more.
Damian’s chest felt tight but he shoved that feeling down. He couldn’t afford to have his own panic attack, not right now.
“Drake,” Damian said. “You’re safe.”
“Dami,” Dick’s ghost echoed. “I’m right here. Just breathe, Bud, it’ll help.”
Tim leaned ever heavier against Damian. Damian panicked, realising that it wasn’t because Tim was calming.
“Drake.” Damian snapped. “Tim. No. No!”
All of Tim’s weight was on him now, his hands loosening.
Damian readjusted him, Tim’s head lolling as Damian tilted him back. Tim’s eyes were closed, his face impossibly pale.
“Snap out of it!” Damian growled.
There was red blossoming from Tim’s chest. But that was impossible. Tim wasn’t injured, he’d been exposed to fear toxin but he had never been injured. Damian’s hand were shaking as he pressed them up against Tim’s chest, feeling wet with blood.
“No, no no no, don’t do this, you can’t do this.” Damian’s voice trembled.
Tim hadn’t been hurt. He’d been upset and scared but he hadn’t been hurt.
“Breathe Damian.” Bruce’s voice rumbled but Bruce wasn’t there.
No one else was there.
Tim was bleeding, he was unconscious, he was dying, and only Damian was there and Damian didn’t know what to do.
“I’m here Son,” Bruce’s ghost said. “You’ve been so brave, but you need to come back to us.”
Damian’s hand slipped in Tim’s blood and Damian’s eyes burned. The world was spinning around him, his head pounding as Tim lay too still in his arms.
“Wake up,” Damian begged. “Wake up, you have to wake up.”
Tim just kept lying there, the ghosts of Damian’s family echoing around them.
It was just fear toxin. Tim hadn’t been hurt. It was just fear toxin. None of what Tim had been seeing was real and yet he had been screaming all the same.
A line of red rolled down from the corner of Tim’s mouth. There was a sword in Tim’s chest, blood pooling around it except there was no way that that sword could be here because Damian had left it on the street below.
More than that, there was no way that Damian could have been the one to hurt Tim. Tim was family now. Tim was a pain but he was family and he was bleeding and he was dying and Damian’s sword was dug deep into his chest.
Damian screamed, rocking Tim in his arms.
“Damian, you have to breathe.”
“Dami, you’re okay. Everything’s okay.”
“You heard them, Brat, you’re safe. But you need to fucking breathe dammit.”
There were so many voices, all swirling around him. Damian’s head hurt, his vision pulsing, Tim’s body feeling heavy in his arms.
Tim wasn’t breathing.
The blood was all around them and Tim wasn’t breathing.
Damian roared but Tim didn’t so much as flinch.
“Hey hey,” Tim’s ghost echoed. “We’re just going to breathe together, okay?”
Tim wasn’t speaking. He was dead in Damian’s arms, dead by Damian’s own blade.
There was a hand gripping Damian’s own and yet when he looked down at it he saw that nothing was there. He was alone. Tim was dead and Damian was alone, alone, alone.
“Tim, sit the fuck down.”
“No.” Tim’s ghost snapped back. Then, more gently. “Like this,”
A new warmth bloomed on Damian’s blood stained hand and it almost felt like it was pressed up against someone’s chest even though it wasn’t. He swore he could feel a heart beat, a little fast but steady.
“In through your nose,”
Damian was alone.
Alone.
Alone.
“Come on, I know you can do it Damian.” Tim’s voice said. “In through your nose, hold, then out through your mouth. Let the mask help.”
There wasn’t a mask, Damian had taken off his domino mask when he had tried to calm Tim at the start. But now it was like Damian was being smothered and when he clawed at his own face, he could almost feel like there was an oxygen mask pressed up against his skin.
Damian’s head was spinning.
“Let’s do that again,” Tim’s ghost said. “Together.”
Tim was dead. Tim was dead in Damian’s arms except Tim wasn’t there anymore and Damian was alone in a bathroom, the tiles hard against his knees.
“In through your nose.”
Damian scrambled to find Tim but he was alone, alone, alone, and a scream ripped through his throat.
“Hold it,” Tim’s ghost said gently and Damian almost felt the warmth under his hand steady. “And out through your mouth.”
Everything was moving to fast, things were changing around him and Damian’s head was spinning and there was so much blood around him except there wasn’t any blood at all and he was alone, alone, alone.
“You’re not alone.” Dick’s voice promised. “We’re right here Dami. We’re right here.”
Tim had been panicking and then he had been dying and there was something pressed up against Damian’s face but nothing was there and he was alone, alone, alone.
“Fuck,” Jason’s ghost grunted. “His blood pressure is through the roof. Brat, you have to fight this. You have to fucking breathe, alright?”
There are so many voices. So many hands that weren’t there. The tiles felt cold beneath his knees except Damian wasn’t on his knees, he was lying down on his side and there was something smothering him and someone was carding fingers through his hair and there were so many sounds and he was alone, alone alone even though he wasn’t because people were touching him.
Damian heard a scream echo but it couldn’t possibly be his own even as his throat burned.
Kicking out his legs did nothing to make him feel more stable because he was meant to be on his knees in some bathroom of an abandoned apartment but instead he was on some kind of hard bed and there was so much noise and everything was so bright and no matter how hard he heaved for a breath, none came.
There was still a hand holding his own, pressing it up against what could only be someone’s chest.
“Try again,” Ghost Tim said. “Follow me, remember?”
“Master Bruce,”
A new voice and Damian definitely whined then because it was Alfred and Alfred was here except no one was with him because he was alone, alone, alone
“The antidote is ready.”
“Give it here.” His Father’s voice echoed.
Something sharp pressed into Damian’s neck and he lashed out, refusing to submit to whatever invisible hands were holding him. Damian roared as his very blood burned and he was alone, alone al-
Damian was warm.
There was a weight on his chest and to his side and for a moment he wondered if there had been a building collapse and he had been pinned. But then everything came back, the mission, the fear toxin hitting Tim straight on. He remembered tugging Tim off the streets, calling for back up over the radio as Tim started muttering. He remembered the static that answered him.
He remembered Tim screaming, all but collapsing against him when Damian tried to wash the last of the toxin from his face.
He remembered Tim's screams, the screams that Damian didn’t think he would ever be able to forget.
But things got a little fuzzy after that. His head had started spinning. There had been voices, echoing. Arms had lifted him and... No. No one had been there. Tim was deep in his episode and only Damian was there to help him but nothing he did seemed to help.
He swallowed roughly, trying to understand.
It was like there were two stories happening at the same time, two events that were blended. He didn't quite understand which one was true. He was certain Tim had been hit by fear toxin, that memory felt clearest of all. But the further in the more things just felt... Wrong.
No matter. He should get up, make sure that he hadn't been captured.
The weight on his chest shifted and Damian went stiff.
Damian forced his eyes to open and he pre-emptively grimaced, expecting a too bright light to be above him. Instead, the familiar ceiling of the med bay was dimmed. Whatever had happened, whoever had been the patient the danger had passed.
Tim. Damian needed to find Tim.
There was a snore and Damian stiffened all over again, recognising it as Jason. Damian glanced down, finding that the weight leaned up against him was none other than Tim Drake.
Tim was alive. He was pale, an IV in the crook of his arm, but he was alive. No blood. No sword in his chest. He was okay.
Damian registered discomfort in his own arm and when he looked down at it, he found that he was on fluids too. Damian grimaced, hand twitching to pull it out.
"Dami?" Dick's ghost grumbled, groggy with sleep.
No, not ghost. It was Dick. He was real and he was half hanging off the bed, his arm laid over Jason and by extension Damian too.
He looked exhausted.
"Drake." Damian whispered fiercely.
"He's fine." Dick assured him. "Thanks to you."
Damian looked back to Tim. He was still so pale.
"Dami," Dick said. "He's okay."
"He was screaming." Damian said. "Fear toxin."
"Yeah Bud." Dick sighed. "It was... Bad. For both of you."
"I wasn't exposed." Damian said.
Dick's expression softened and Damian wanted to kill whatever had made him so sad.
"I wasn't exposed." Damian repeated.
Jason shifted on Damian's chest and Tim hummed beside him. Damian cursed himself silently, not wanting to wake them.
"Your rebreather malfunctioned." Dick said. "Tim still got the brunt of it but it was a bad strain and by the time we found you, you had already mostly calmed him but you started panicking, fighting against us. Like I said, it was bad. You nearly passed out."
"I couldn't breathe." Damian whispered.
Dick sighed. He nodded.
"Your stats only went up in the last couple of hours. Like I said, Tim's fine now too but you're both on bed rest for a couple of days."
Damian glowered but Dick didn't even balk.
"Just enjoy this. The quiet."
Jason snored loudly. Damian's glare strengthened.
"Think of it as brotherly bonding time." Dick grinned.
Tim shifted in his sleep, burying further into Damian and while Damian was more than happy to shove Todd off of him, he decided that Tim needed as much rest as he could get.
Dick readjusted too, arm still draped against Jason's back.
"You did good, little brother." Dick mumbled, yawning. "Real good."
Damian stared up at the roof for a little while longer, listening to Dick's breath evening out.
He wasn't alone.
He never had been and with brothers like this, he never would be again. Jason snored again and Damian was certain that he was doing it on purpose.