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Tim had always loved rain.
Maybe he just liked the idea of having a nice cup of coffee while enjoying the chilly temperature under a fluffy blanket, and staring at raindrops fall on the window as if it were his favorite TV show. It was immensely more relaxing than preparing the material he was going to need for his debut in the debate team.
The manor that morning had been oddly quiet, Bruce had left early in the morning to attend business at Wayne Enterprises along with Alfred as they had been doing for the last few weeks, who would say that spending almost three months in space would leave an enormous amount of paperwork?
Damian was yet to return from the last rehearsal for the play he supposedly didn’t want to participate in, even though his eyes literally sparkled after every rehearsal for the past two months. And for some reason, that brought him closer to Tim than both ever hoped for.
It was their chance to talk about anything else other than the incredibly heavy workload from the recent crime spike in Gotham. A habit they developed when Bruce had been in an off-world mission with the League and Dick had temporarily taken over the mantle for a few months.
Things were a bit lighter than they had been but with Cass, Steph and Duke out of the country or off world, even with all remaining hands-on deck, it was still exhausting. And talking about a not so known Shakespeare play was the better part of the day. Sometimes even Jason asked Damian about his progress on the play during patrol.
This sudden closeness to Damian surprised Tim to be honest, it was hard to believe that he had some kind of affection towards the kid that once tried to kill him. And while talking everyday to his somewhat younger sibling was nice, it felt odd and out of place that Dick didn’t seem to involve himself in any conversation.
Without anyone outside of Alfred, and only some days in a small chatter kind of way.
Usually, Damian was practically glued to Dick’s hip, like a duckling seeking approval from mother duck. But as of recently, Dick was almost a specter in the house, and Tim could tell that Damian was not handling well the absence of his eldest brother and semi-paternal figure. Tim had justified this recent behavior a few weeks back due to Dick taking up the Batman mantle for the past months, anyone would become broody and taciturn wearing the damn thing.
If Tim had to describe Dick’s few appearances in the Manor, it would be like he was physically there but not actually there altogether.
Again, it was like witnessing a specter.
Anyway, Tim found himself having empathy for his older brother. Since it had been only a few weeks since he returned to being Nightwing fulltime, now that Bruce wasn’t injured anymore from the Justice League mission turned into a full blown preventing a planet invasion debacle.
Still something was off about Dick besides not being completely there.
Jason had even teased Dick out in patrol for his lack of jokes, overall silence, and even grouchy mood. Bruce some nights prior had made a comment that it had been a while since Dick had been that moody and reactive, like a teenager lashing out. Words that Tim would never expect Bruce use to describe his eldest son.
At least not in a while, Tim can still remember his first years as Robin and the overwhelming tension between Bruce and Dick, it was so obvious he felt he could cut with a knife.
Tim eventually stood up and went to wash his empty mug at the kitchen sink, he knew Alfred would not be happy if he stained another of his pristine white mugs. While emptying the used coffee filter and opening the trash bin he found yet another broken glass in the bag, and analyzed a little too long, until he heard dragging feet entering the door.
“Good morning,” he said noticing Dick’s disarray that was his hair, the eldest blinked heavily and mumbled something that sounded like a ‘morning’ of some sort.
“Did you sleep well?” Tim asked.
“Not so much, my entire body hurts” Dick answered grabbing a glass and filling up with water, all while maintaining a sleepy voice. “How about you?”
“The same with the body thing, but I swear preparing for the debate next week shouldn’t be so hard.” Tim added, hoping Dick would follow up with asking about it since he always did with any topic regarding his siblings, but was met with a short and disappointing answer.
“Must be hard then.”
The couple few seconds was filled with the sound of tap water running as Tim finished up tiding up the kitchen, until he opened the trash bin.
“Alfred is not going to like that another of his glasses is broken, the set will now be mismatched.” Tim commented, noticing how Dick suddenly tensed his shoulders.
“Right.” The older said trying to sound casual, to which Tim tried to emulate Alfred’s iconic quizzical brow, making Dick even more nervous, the first actual emotion he showed besides general apathy on his face all morning. “Fine, it was me, I confess my crimes.”
“Crimes?”
“Crime, as in singular!” Dick corrected not so subtly, his cheeks were flushed by that point, not enough to hide his awfully deep eyebags and unusual pale skin. Tim remembered that he had seen at least seven broken glasses in the past month, and Nightwing missing a few birdarangs targets that even Tim could do when starting out as Robin. His brother was unusually clumsy as of late, Tim continued to analyze as Dick’s hand trembled trying to open the cap on an aspirin bottle from the counter.
“Why are your hands so shaky? Do you feel okay?” The younger looked at the clock noticing it was past noon. “You haven’t eaten anything have you? I can whip up something for lunch if you want, Damian won’t take long to return from rehearsals.” Tim asked drying his hands, Dick looked at him like a deer to high lights. “What?”
“Do you have to over analyze everything?” Dick asked somewhat bitterly, taking the aspirin to his mouth, the comment felt intense for a casual conversation, and the elder’s mood took a deep dive so suddenly that Tim could almost feel the whiplash strike him painfully on his ribs.
In an eerie way then Dick giggled, and just left the glass in the sink.
“Of course you do, y’know you’re the smartest of us all right? Bruce’s pride for sure.”
“If you say so, I guess.” Tim answered awkwardly while Dick was already walking out of the kitchen. “Don’t you want to have lunch with me and Damian?”
“I’ll just sleep a little while longer, last night’s patrol drained me.” Dick answered plainly.
“That’s a good idea, I’ll probably take a nap too before tonight’s play.” Tim continued the uncomfortable small talk, something that felt unnatural to have with Dick.
“What?”
“Damian’s play, the one he has been rehearsing for almost two months now. Even Jason is going,” Tim explained. “Undercover of course.”
“Uh sure, I’ll go.” Dick said, as if the play was a novelty to him, making Tim have the painful realization that his older brother forgot about the whole ordeal. Imagining Damian’s disappointment of Dick possibly not going broke Tim’s heart, and somewhat enraged him too.
“Do you think Ricard would like to visit the zoo sometime?” Damian once asked, rigid posture and an unusual eloquent way of speaking for a twelve-year-old.
“What?” Tim asked somewhat taken aback, since it was an out of context question.
“Yes” Damian answered as if had been an obvious thing to ask. “Richard has been taciturn and ‘down’ since temporally taking Father’s mantle, and I think a visit to the zoo, particularly to where the elephant is, would cheer him up.”
Tim felt his heart melt a little at the proposal, Damian was becoming a sweet kid if thinking about his big brother’s mood was more of a priority than his own well being after his friend’s accident. From what Alfred briefly described Damian’s best friend at school, had a severe accident, he wasn’t given any more details.
“I’m sure it would, I am running out of movies to show him”, Tim added, Dick had been acting odd since taking the mantle and even months before that. Writing up their reports hours before had been tortuous for the silence between them, an unusual thing with Dick from a few years back who could break the silence easily in any circumstance.
“It is very important to Damian.” Tim stated, to what Dick anxiously fiddled with his sleeves.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Dick didn’t respond anything back and simply left the kitchen.
While washing his hands Damian arrived in a hurry, saying ‘hi’ in his over-explained way, and trying to put together a sandwich from what he could find in the pantry. The ingredients that were out so far seemed atrocious to put together in a single thing, the older teen analyzed the papaya, ham, blue cheese and Dijon mustard and visibly cringed.
“I can make something to eat while you shower and change for the play Damian.” Tim offered, to what Damian sighed in relief and hurriedly accepted while running out of the kitchen.
“I have already talked to Father and Pennyworth and they have confirmed their assistance, do you know if Grayson has confirmed his?” Damian asked with a nervous glint in his eyes, Tim refrained all his anger from previous moments, and simply nodded.
“He has, we’ll actually go together in the same car.”
Damian seemed content enough with the answer and practically ran out of the kitchen, from the sound of the steps Tim knew the carpet would need to be straightened out before Alfred arrived. Not even fifteen minutes later Damian showed up again, slicked hair back and with a basic make up base on his face, Tim didn’t know much about makeup but he could swear the kid was even wearing contour. The younger teen then basically aspirated the club sandwich Tim had wiped up before he could take a picture of it to show it off to Alfred.
“Don’t be late.” He said hurriedly grabbing his bag and running out of the kitchen and Manor.
The silence that permeated after was incredibly suffocating.
He wasn’t lying when he said to Dick that he wanted to take a nap, and so he did for at least an hour, with just enough time to shower and pick up an outfit for the occasion, Damian’s school was kind of bougie, but it wasn’t a graduation or anything either.
So, it was tough.
He found himself knocking on Dick’s door, repeatedly, a part of him justified it by the outfit dilemma, but the other was his gut feeling saying that something was wrong with his older brother. Tim could feel his anxiety roll in waves throughout his body, and his chest felt tighter than usual. The seconds between knocks felt like hammers, and Tim was considering tearing the whole door down and pretending it was just old wood like the rest of the Manor was.
“Why am I so anxious?” Tim thought to himself, his mind not being able to imagine scenarios as to why his body is suddenly on high alert. He thinks of a particular moment during his second year as Robin.
“Dick, come on wake up,” he was shaking the elder, who was unresponsive and currently laying on the bathroom floor. He had come into Dick’s room to see if he was alright after a particularly bad patrol and bad fight with Bruce. He blamed himself for not checking in hours before.
“Coming!” Dick answered groggily and Tim could hear his footsteps tumbling to the door. Once the door opened, Tim could notice that the older one looked worse than a few hours back, his hair sticking up even more than before, and his eyes looked even more sleepy. “What’s up Tim-bird?”
“Uh, I need help with my outfit for Damian’s play.”
Dick’s eyes widened and looked at the hour on his phone.
“Shit, well, I didn’t bring anything nice, but you’re not a lost cause like me.” He said and walked out to the hall and into Tim’s room without much thought, even if was vaguely stumbling while walking. Tim didn’t say anything, but while the logical part on his brain told him it was an innocent joke, the gut feeling told him otherwise just like in his early Robin years where he first met Nightwing well.
Dick was rambling, from saying things related to the outfit he was trying to put together for Tim. The bed was at disarray but from what Tim could see the acrobat had filtered everything and now three general outfits stood. By looking them over, they were good choices and all three could work out, now it was a matter of personal taste, still, Dick wasn’t usually this messy.
“All done, now it is up to your personal taste.” Dick exclaimed proudly, then stared at the clock by Tim’s bedside and visibly panicked. “I must shower or something, and then wait to be judged for my outfit by Bruce and everyone there, jeez. Why do they fixate so much on the outfit of someone that doesn’t really matter.” He added without much thought or conscience, walking out of the room before Tim could say anything.
A couple minutes passed, and Dick came into his room his fresh hair, an outfit that looked decent, but the weird swagger in his voice remained when he asked for the time.
“We are just in time if we leave just right now, the rest will meet us there.” Tim informed walking to the garage with Dick in row behind him, watching Dick’s general demeanor made him say: “I’ll drive.”
The drive there was somewhat quiet, it was already dark, and Tim could feel himself melting in relief by not having to patrol that night. The red light was comforting on its own way, until he looked to his right to Dick whose mood once again descended into a deep feeling that he couldn’t quite figure on the elder’s face.
“How come you’re so quiet?” he asked hoping that there wasn’t an outburst like hours before, Dick slowly blinked and turned to him.
Delayed.
“Y’know, it’s just stupid. I took a sleeping pill out of habit before sleeping the nap, and now I’m feeling groggy.” Dick explained absently. “You can pinch me if I fall asleep, or maybe slap me, I would deserve it.”
Turns out he didn’t fall asleep during any part of the whole play, he watched intently and with tired eyes the whole play, and even hugged Damian by the end of it. The way the youngest eyes sparkled made Tim’s heart melt, but watching Dick’s general tiredness made his gut sit heavy.
He didn’t know why he didn’t ask anything that night after returning from the play, there wasn’t any patrol, any discussions, Dick’s door was just a few steps away.
Yet, he didn’t dare knock the seemingly harmless door and simply ask.
The next morning Dick ate breakfast, his deep eyebags as obvious as his pale complexion, his tiredness and apathy, the shakiness in his hands and the unusual swagger to his movements, yet no one said anything as he left for Bludhaven in his bike alone.
Not even Tim.
A week later Damian had the idea to call Dick to ask him about the play, since they didn’t get the chance to fully talk about it and the poetic themes. Tim and Damian had conversed even further after the play and it seemed like a nice idea to share them with Dick, even if the older usually said he didn’t comprehend literature or thematic storytelling, despite the fact that he instinctively did it better than any average person would.
Maybe he had let himself be influenced by Damian’s energy, or his inner younger self to talk to his big brother, even if it was over the phone for a couple minutes.
“Hello?”
Once Dick answered he found himself remembering that night in the bathroom, helping Dick puke all he had drank to prevent him into falling an ethylic comma, and all of the sad and self deprecating things Dick had said. The same groggy and raspy voice Dick had that night too, when he made his younger brother promise not to tell Bruce his eldest son almost drank himself to death.
‘I don’t really matter, y’know?’ his older brother had said with a tired gaze.
All for Dick to never mention it again.
Maybe even forget about the whole ordeal.
“Grayson?” Damian asked furrowing his brow, and Tim wondered if it even was a good idea to put the call on speaker in the first place.
“Hey Lil’D, what’s up?” Dick said on the other side of the phone, the sudden cheer that was just a mere façade and now Tim could clearly, and sadly, see it.
He found himself snatching the phone from Damian, as to continue the playful and cheerful banter they had going on for the last couple hours and hoping it could at least bring a smudge of authenticity into Dick’s mask.
“We have something to consult with you.” Tim said on the phone, speaker still on, and waited for a whole three seconds before Dick even ushered a word.
“Tim! How nice! How are you?”
Tim was bewildered to say the least, why was Dick talking like that? As if he hadn’t seen Tim in years. Somehow the tone of voice sounded familiar, the enunciation and the slight slur at the end. The teen was familiarized with this Dick Grayson, the one he could find at galas and some family gatherings. But something didn’t click well despite that, by the lack of background noise and the slight echo, he could tell Dick was in a closed space, no music near, so if he could conclude anything, it was that his older brother was currently drinking alcohol alone in his apartment, and to be frank, totally wasted.
“Are you okay? You sound funny.” Damian said with a quizzical brow, Tim could feel himself sweat a little. Dick has never been drunk in front of their littlest brother, something each one of them promised.
Jason more adamant than the rest.
“Oh, y’know, maybe the sleeping pills are finally taking effect.”
Tim quickly turned off the speaker, and trying to keep a cool voice repeated what he had heard, if his theory was correct and Dick was drinking, and also taking a sleeping pill it could be potentially fatal. Because his older brother didn’t sound sleepy, but then again, each time he had said he was just tired, he didn’t sound like it. Tim could feel the dots connecting in his mind, all the clumsiness and drowsiness, the hands shaking at odds times, the overconsumption of mint flavored gum and mouthwash, and the social isolation followed by rapid changes in mood.
All the dots painting a full picture.
Not a pretty one.
“The sleeping pill, I’m just groggy, but what was what you wanted to consult me about?” Dick asked, and Tim couldn’t bring himself to even mention the play, he had actually forgotten what was the question that had him and Damian debating all afternoon. Suddenly Damian snatched the phone and with agility flipped over to the couch, putting the phone once again in speaker and with a calm demeanour asked:
“Drake insists on knowing the best way to eat cereal?”
Even Tim was bewildered, and so was Dick if his laughter over the line indicated anything. It was a quirky question, but Tim didn’t see the slight glint in Damian’s eye that he usually had when he asked such a random question. It was a dim, and serious light, as of someone that had aged beyond his physical age.
No one liked to see that look in Damian’s eyes.
“Yes, that exactly!” Tim added, sitting next to Damian.
“Am I on speaker or not?”
No one said anything.
“Well, I shall tell you the correct way to eat cereal since I am the one and only expert.”
What followed was the most jumbled mess of a rant, unfinished thoughts and repetition of ideas that he had ever heard. Tim had some experience dealing with drunk people, he was a teen and being leader of a team of fellow teen superheroes living alone in a tower. Of course he dealt with drunk people, and his friends dealt with him as well. But hearing Dick in this state, certainly had him nervous, it wasn’t ‘tipsy and funny’ Dick Grayson talking right now, it was something sadder.
“Grayson”, Damian’s tone was calm but firm, somewhat like Bruce when he meant business. But at the same time, it had a gentleness to it that had even Tim freeze up. “You need to sleep, yes?”
Silence went through the line, then they could hear some kind of shuffling and Dick sighing.
“Sure Dami, good night.”
The call ended and both brothers sat in silence for a while, Damian had a straight posture while Tim fiddled with the hem of his shirt.
“I have dealt with intoxicated people before, in the League of Shadows it isn’t an uncommon occurrence. I’ll convince Pennyworth to take to his apartment at the earliest convenience.” Damian explained cooly, as if he was explaining the details of a patrol routine in the Batcave, Tim sighed and felt his heart shatter.
“But tomorrow is Jon’s birthday, you shouldn’t miss that.” Tim explained, and Damian looked hesitant, his hands turned into fists. “I’ll talk to Jason about it, and we’ll go to Blud. How about that?”
Damian seemed hesitant but nodded, then excused himself saying he had to pack a bag for the weekend he was playing to stay over with the Kents. Tim knew it was probably for the best that the kid wasn’t in the Manor for what could happen.
But then again, what was going to happen?
If Tim hated anything, it would be not having evidence of his gut feelings. Sometimes they are proven right by evidence, but this time it was just anecdotes and some memories here and there of Dick acting out of character.
He grabbed a book but couldn’t really focus on it, the words flowed through his brain not permeating a single idea. Tim felt like he was floating directionless, his thoughts felt far away, let alone his feelings. All he knew is the sense of impending doom was looming over him, but the worse part is that he didn’t know why it would be there in the first place.
He decided to walk over to Dick’s room, who for some reason never locked when he was away, only sometimes when he was visiting. Which added more weight to the gut feeling that seemed to permeate Tim for the past few weeks.
The room looked innocent enough, dark from disuse but not particularly unclean. Just a little dusty and the furniture looked used, the desk had all kind of scratches from long hours of schoolwork and Dick’s necessity to work on the birdarangs in his room when the lab in the cave was far more practical. Tim sat on the bed, trying to number the signs of what he suspected.
Why was he so afraid to even think of the word?
The word didn’t match up with his envision of who Dick was.
Uncertainty boiling in his chest, he grabbed his phone and dialed Jason’s number. It rang three times until the other answered.
“What’d you want replacement?”
Tim over time had gotten used to the nickname, at first it was sort of painful and salty, but now it was rutinary and endearing to a degree.
“We need to talk about Dick, something’s wrong with him and I feel like we’re going to regret it if we don’t act soon. Me and Damian talked to him a few hours ago, and something is definitely off.” Tim said nervously, he felt odd, maybe it was all part of his anxiety and nothing was really wrong.
He hoped he was wrong, so, so badly.
“Yeah, not shit something wrong with dickhead!” Jason whispered-yelled over the phone, only him being capable of such a feat.
“But you haven’t even heard what I suspect”, Tim countered, feeling a mix of relief at not being crazy for noticing, but also so disappointed that he was right. “I can’t explain but I think that…”
“That our dear brother is depressed and probably has an alcohol dependency that he frantically denies and hides to everybody including himself?” Jason quickly interrupted, he was clearly upset and Tim felt as if he was getting lashed out. In a force of habit, Tim sat down on the carpet near the bed, until he eventually laid down on it looking to the shoes and boxes Dick had under his bed, noticing that his big brother only hid his mess under it not really cleaning.
“Look I’m sorry I lashed out; I am at Dick’s apartment and the guy’s a mess. I got him to sleep, but Tim, I don’t know what to do. This isn’t dickhead, or at least the one we know.”
Hearing Jason so vulnerable really did cement the gravity of the situation to him. He had dealt with bad and awful cases while patrolling, while working for the mission. Even then there was some grade of separation, some objectivity, and naively some grade of protection in phrasing the question: but it won’t happen to someone I love, right? Why would it happen?
“We’ll figure something out Jay-“Tim interrupted his own thinking process when he noticed a small lever standing out in the carpet, he pulled on it and noticed it was a makeshift door, out of instinct curiosity he checked the interiors and was met by glass bottles. One by one he pulled them out, all kinds of alcohol, some half-empty, others full and so many that didn’t have any content. “When you have the chance, meet me up here and the Manor and we’ll plan an intervention for Dick’s alcoholism issue.”
“I’ll try to talk to him tomorrow too.” Jason said uncertainly, once again Tim’s heartstrings were tested since he wasn’t used to that tone in Jason’s voice, the one that was always confident and sure of himself, the other was doubting himself.
“If you can get some sense into him, otherwise we can do it together, you know that right?” Tim asked, hoping that Jason would understand, hoping that he knew that he could do it together as family.
“I know.”