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It was warm beneath the studio’s lights, but when Dick glanced over at Tim he saw that there was more sweat sheening than there usually would be during an interview.
Tim’s answers were as professional as ever, with just enough light jokes to be impressionable while managing to keep on topic enough to make sure the social program they were promoting was being well presented.
Dick lounged beside him, the perfect relaxed Dickie Grayson that the public knew so well, letting Tim take the lead given that Tim was the one who put so much work into it.
But then Tim readjusted. And again, his sentence trailing off before he repeated himself.
Dick smoothly took over, making sure to get the entire live audience and the host to laugh at something he said, keeping as much attention off of Tim as he could as Tim readjusted again.
There was more sweat on Tim’s face now, his breathing a little bit off. When Tim’s hand fumbled to Dick’s arm, squeezing hard, there was no strength in it at all. Dick understood what Tim wanted, what Tim needed of him, all the same.
“It’s been a pleasure being back here again.” Dick said.
“But I still have-” The Interviewer tried.
“It’s been a pleasure.” Dick repeated more firmly.
At last the interviewer finished the segment, announcing that they would be going to an ad break.
The moment the live feed was off, Tim tilted forwards and threw up.
Dick ignored the gasps from the live studio audience, focusing solely on his brother. He went to guide Tim to the ground fully but Tim waved him off. His eyes were screwed shut, his breathing shallow as new sweat ran down his face.
“Do you want to get out of here, then?” Dick asked.
He gave Tim time to process and decide and when Tim finally nodded, Dick helped him up to his feet. Tim was unbalanced, his legs not quite responding to him, but Dick did not pick him up and instead gave Tim every chance to walk on his own strength.
As they finally got to the edge of the stage, the shows producers were already there to meet them.
Tim whined, curling away from them when one of the women reached out towards him.
“He’ll be fine,” Dick said, keeping his voice quiet. “But can we use the greenroom for a little while? An hour, tops.”
One of the producers opened their mouth to refuse, no doubt thinking of the guests after the Wayne brothers, but one of the others got there first.
“Of course, right this way.”
“I know the way, thank you.” Dick said.
Tim’s legs wobbled as they stepped down from the stage, nearly collapsing outright when they got to the ground. He tapped Dick’s arm desperately and Dick readjusted, pulling Tim fully into his arms in one smooth movement.
“Almost there.” Dick promised him.
Tim could only groan, burying his head into Dick’s chest.
The greenroom wasn’t very green but it was gaudy as all hell, complete with a fainting couch with plush pillows and snacks and water bottles sitting out on a table. Forgoing the couch itself, Dick changed his hold of Tim, keeping him stable in order to grab a pillow from the couch.
Dick was careful in laying Tim down onto the ground but as soon as he tried to move away, Tim’s hand snapped out, gripping onto Dick’s arm.
“I’m right here.” Dick said. “I’m not going anywhere, I’m just making it safe.”
“Ss…”
“Safe.” Dick agreed gently.
“Ss…” Tim tried again. He groaned loudly in frustration. “Stupid.”
“No no,” Dick said. “We’re not doing that Timmy, everything’s gonna be just fine, but we don’t call ourselves stupid.”
Tim tried to respond but his jaw seemed to lock itself shut, leaving him only able to give off a pained noise. Dick tried his best to sooth his brother through it, not letting his own chest ache at the sound.
Given the increased risk of Tim’s airway being compromised with this sort of seizure, Dick kept one hand soothing through Tim’s hair while the other reached for the backpack he had left in here before the interview.
Tim, being Tim, tried to help.
“Easy, easy,” Dick murmured.
Tim groaned again, leaning his head back either as a way of relenting or because it had instead been a spasm.
Finally Dick hand brushed against his bag. He pulled it hard, struggling to open it with one hand. Digging through it, he couldn’t find what it was he was looking for.
Tim’s arm rose, nudging Dick’s hand away from his head.
“I’m right here.” Dick said. “Not going anywhere. I’m right here, Tim.”
With both hands free, Dick finally found the small box that he had come to carry around with him. He took the pulse oximeter out of the box, forcing a chuckle when Tim gave an outright sound of frustration instead of pain.
“Just for a little while.” Dick said. “I need to be able to tell that you’re breathing enough.”
Tim glared at him but it faltered, the seizure coming ever close if it hadn’t yet already begun.
Even though they both knew it needed to happen, Tim’s hand snapped away from Dick’s as soon as Dick tried to place the pulse ox.
“Timmy.” Dick said as patiently as he could. “You need it Bud.”
Tears beaded at the corners of Tim’s eyes but he nodded, hesitating a little longer before he held out his hand.
Dick clipped the pulse ox to the end of Tim’s finger, soothing him through the ensuing shudders as Tim fought every urge to immediately throw it away from himself. But then Tim was shuddering again, his eyes fluttering.
“I’ve got you, shh, you’re okay…”
Tim’s whole body shook more strongly, his eyes rolling back.
The door to the greenroom cracked open.
“We’re fine here.” He called to them, barely keeping himself from snapping at them outright. “I need an hour in privacy.”
“Mr. Grayson, it’s just-”
Tim made a choked sound and Dick hushed him, promising him that he was safe, that he was okay, glancing down at the pulse ox to see that it had dipped down a little.
The door opened fully but before Dick could yell at them to fuck off, someone in a medic uniform strode on in.
“We’re fine.” Dick said.
“Mr. Grayson, my name is Yelena and I am the first aid officer here. According to our policies, any medical emergencies must be checked out by me.”
“I’ve got it handled.” Dick insisted. “This is normal for him.”
“I’m sure it is,” Yelena said. “But the policy is very clear.”
Tim’s back arched strongly and he nearly rolled onto his back but in an instant Yelena was knelt down beside Dick, keeping Tim on his side.
“I’ve got it handled.” Dick said again. “He’s my brother.”
“I understand that, Mr. Grayson.” She said.
Before Dick could stop her, Yelena carefully took hold of Tim’s arm, careful not to hold too tightly less another spasm hurt him.
“Epilepsy and No Spleen?” She read from Tim’s bracelet. “What a combo.”
“He likes to be unique.” Dick said.
“How long has he been seizing?”
Dick glanced down at his phone.
“Three minutes seventeen, protocol is five minutes so long as there’s no injuries.”
While Dick knew full well that Tim did not like anyone seeing his seizures, let alone strangers, Yelena at least seemed to know what it was she was doing, checking the pulse ox on Tim’s finger.
There was a crowd formed at the doorway and Dick felt his skin crawl when he noticed that one of the stupid fucks had their phone pointed towards Tim.
He went to launch up to his feet, ready to do whatever it took to maintain Tim’s dignity, but all at once Tim’s body went slack, leaving barely even a tremor in his muscles.
“Four minutes twelve.” Dick said, his shoulders dipping low.
“Anything I need to know about his usual post-ictal state?” Yelena asked.
She double checked the pulse ox before peeling open one of Tim’s eyelids, flashing a light and checking for a pupil response. She moved onto the next, confirming that too had slightly sluggish reaction but not too bad.
Whoever this lady was, she knew her shit. While it made Dick wonder how someone so competent would work as a first aider for some entertainment company, Tim made another little sound.
“Confusion mostly,” Dick said. “And frustration. It takes a little while before he’s able to get his words together and Tim really doesn’t like that happening. He lashes out occasionally but it’s not his fault, it’s just-”
“His body has gone through a lot.” Yelena said. “It’s not all surprising that he might become confrontational in his confusion. Does he usually experience multiple seizures at a time?”
“Not often.” Dick said. “But sometimes.”
Yelena was looking at the pulse ox again.
“His oxygen saturation is still lower than I’d like.” She said. “Mr. Drake? Mr. Drake, can you hear me?”
“Tim.” Dick said. “He prefers Tim.”
“Tim,” Yelena said.
As much as she wanted to help, this was Tim and as such Dick spoke even louder than she did.
“Tim, can you try to open your eyes for me, Bud?”
Tim groaned, his head shifting a little.
“Tim? Timmy?”
His body lurched forward and Dick rushed to keep him full on his side as he vomited. Before Dick could even sooth him, Tim was already throwing up again.
“That’s it, that’s it,” Dick mumbled, rubbing his back.
Tim shuddered strongly.
“I’ve got you T, I’ve got you…”
Another lurch brought up nothing but bile and yet Tim’s body was still trying to clear its system.
Looking up to Yelena, impressed that she didn’t so much as look irritated let alone disgusted by the vomit, Dick nodded his head towards the makeup table.
She stood, slowly walking to the table of bottles of water. She grabbed two, and even grabbed a cloth meant to help clean up makeup for those allergic to makeup remover.
Once Yelena returned, she put some of the water on the cloth. She went to wash Tim’s face but Dick stopped her.
“Sorry,” Dick said. “He really doesn’t like strangers touching him.”
Yelena handed Dick the cloth and he gently wiped down Tim’s face, apologising softly when Tim whined. Once he was done, he rinsed the cloth and put it on the back of Tim’s neck.
Tim’s eyes at last cracked open but he was already wincing.
“Lights.” Dick said.
“Hey Siri, lights off.”
Dick glanced at her, the room now only lit by the sun coming through the window. Yelena smiled back but it dropped as Tim whined again, his legs stretching out as he stirred a little more.
“Tim? Tim, everything’s okay.”
Tim hummed, stretching out even more then curling in a ball with a whimper.
“I know you don’t feel very good but do you think you can keep your eyes open for me?”
“‘Way…”
“I’ll go away soon,” Dick promised. “But first I gotta make sure you’re all good.”
Tim tried to rise but his arms and legs were uncoordinated, his head rolling.
“Easy, Timmy,” Dick said. “It takes time, remember, but everything will come back.”
“Wing…” Tim said, his voice slurred. “What’re…”
“It’s just me, Dick.” Dick said, squeezing Tim’s hand before he had a chance to reveal their identities.
But while Tim’s eyes were open, they were lost.
“Wing.” Tim said. “Blüd.”
“We’re in Gotham, Tim. We were doing an interview but you had a seizure. We’re still at the studio.”
“Studio.” Tim echoed.
He pushed himself up, shrugging Dick off when Dick tried to stop him. Tim’s blink every was sluggish, his head dipping a little as if he was fighting to stay awake. All at once his breath caught, attention snapping to Yelena.
“Hey there,” She said. “My name is Yelena, I am just here to make sure-”
Tim launched himself at her but Dick moved quicker, grunting as Tim’s entire weight slammed into him. Tim roared, hitting Dick’s chest hard but Dick held him tightly, making sure he didn’t get anywhere near the first aider.
“It’s okay,” Dick said. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you Tim, you’re okay. You’re safe.”
But Tim was outright screaming now, pounding his fists against any inch of Dick he could reach.
“Shh, it’s okay, just breathe, you’re safe. You had a seizure, it’ll pass, I know you’re scared right now but it’ll pass.”
Tim roared ever louder, the sound echoing in Dick’s ear, but Dick held steadfast even as he heard the pulse ox miraculously still on Tim’s finger alerted. He was panicking far too much but if Dick let him go now, he could very well try to attack Yelena again.
Dick looked directly at Yelena.
“Leave. Now.”
“No.”
“Leave.”
Tim was vulnerable and confused and scared and there was a stranger right by him, it was no wonder why he was freaking out more than normal but without full control over his own body Tim could very easily hurt Yelena severely before he realised what he was doing and Dick could not allow his brother to do that.
The pulse ox alerted again.
“Tim,” Dick said firmly. “Tim, enough, it’s okay. You’re okay.”
Tim’s fist slammed against Dick’s bad shoulder and Dick grunted but did not let go of him.
“Shh… I’ve got you…”
All at once Tim’s struggles changed and instead of trying to get away from Dick, he was burying into Dick’s chest, sobbing openly.
As much as Dick’s instincts told him to loosen his arms and comfort Tim just simply by holding him and rubbing his back, he knew full well that he couldn’t let down his guard just yet, not when Tim could very well be using it as a distraction so that he could pull away from Dick.
But Tim didn’t try to pull away, his whole body shuddering as he cried hard.
“I know, I know,” Dick murmured, pressing a kiss on the top of Tim’s head. “Shh… I’ve got you.”
Dick was grateful that Yelena stayed silent, though he could tell that she was trying to see the pulse ox again. Once he was certain that Tim’s awareness was actually coming back this time, Dick rubbed gentle circles into his back, readjusting so that the both of them were more comfortable.
Tim’s crying settled a little, though he was still sniffling miserably, leaning a little harder into Dick’s chest.
“No sleeping just yet, Bud.” Dick said. “You gotta try to talk for a little first, okay?”
Tim shook his head against Dick’s chest, whimpering.
“Come on Bud, I know you can do it.”
“Go away.” Tim said, pressing closer against Dick. “Words. Done. Sleep.”
“Not yet.” Dick said.
Tim groaned loudly. Then he groaned again, shifting weirdly.
Worried that Tim was going into another seizure, Dick tried to lay Tim back down onto the ground, careful of the vomit, but Tim didn’t let him.
“Fine…” Tim mumbled.
“I know you’re Tim Fine,” Dick said. “But are you Fine Fine?”
Tim shifted, tilting his head up if only long enough to glare at Dick. His head dropped back down again with another groan.
“Too bright.”
Yelena stood again, quickly closing the blinds and Dick nodded his thanks to her.
“Better?”
“Go away now.” Tim said.
“Yeah, no,” Dick chuckled.
“Sleep.” Tim protested weakly.
“You can sleep once Yelena checks you over.” Dick said.
Tim’s breathing slowed, nearly drifting off. Dick readjusted, poking him and earning yet another groan.
“Go away.” Tim said more strongly. “Just want to sleep. Just want to… Wing? Wing, where…”
“We’re at the studio,” Dick reminded. “Tim.”
But while Tim was talking, he still wasn’t completely with it.
“Nightwing.” Tim said, except maybe it was actually Red Robin. “The mugger got away. We need to go get the purse back, there was an epipen in it.”
“You always did like your Batman and Robins,” Dick said fondly. He met Yelena’s eye. “He sees them as defenders of Gotham, keeping people safe and all that. Always loves watching clips of them.”
“Robin safe.” Tim said, his words distinctly wrong.
“Yeah,” Dick said. “Robin keeps people safe.”
But Tim was shaking his head again.
“Robin safe?”
Dick readjusted, keeping one arm wound around Tim’s back while the other shifted down to the leg away from Yelena.
You are Tim. Dick tapped out in morse code. Tim. Tim safe. Dami Safe.
Tim hummed but if he was with it enough to decode the messages, Dick wasn’t sure. Then Tim hummed again but it was a different sound and Dick rushed to readjust Tim once more, not even realising that Yelena had grabbed out a vomit bag from her tools before it was already at Tim’s mouth.
“Now you’ve got one.” Dick mused.
“Now I knew to expect it.” She replied lightly.
Once Tim was done this time, he was left ever more exhausted.
Tim’s eyes were barely open, his breathing far too shallow, new sweat beaded on his forehead. Yelena offered a second cloth to wipe down his face again but after a moment of hesitation, Dick nodded to say that she could do it.
It was a testament to Yelena’s confidence that she did not falter as Tim’s eyes snapped fully open, his hand shooting out and gripping onto her wrist.
“She’s a friend.” Dick said.
Tim’s eyes dropped once more and he released her wrist, curling his hand instead into Dick’s shirt.
“Home?” Tim croaked.
“Soon.” Dick promised. “As soon as your nausea’s passed.”
“Nausea is passed.” Tim said. “My name is Timothy Jackson Drake. You’re Dick Grayson. We’re at a studio for an interview and… And fuck.”
Tim threw up again, his whole body shaking from the effort but Dick soothed him through it.
“This sucks.” Tim muttered.
“Yep.” Dick grinned.
Yelena insisted a few times that with Tim’s oxygen as it is, he should be on a mask to help boost it but Tim had let her know exactly how he felt about that by throwing up directly onto her.
It took another twenty minutes before Tim was fully able to hold his own weight without Dick needing to hold him, even managing to keep down some water without immediately bringing it back up again. Dick gave him even longer to make certain that he was completely settled, assuring him time and again that he’ll be able to rest at home soon enough.
Once Dick was sure that he was passed the worst of it, he carefully let Tim stand, staying near by just in case he were to fall. Tim was a little shaky but he managed it all the same.
When it was finally time to go, it was Tim and not Dick who turned to Yelena.
“Thanks… Sorry about, y’know.”
“It’s okay, Tim,” Yelena said. “I’m just glad that you’re doing a little better. Mr. Grayson? I’ll need to make an incident report for you to sign, company policy.”
“Of course.” Dick said, trying to not sound too frustrated.
With Tim’s oxygen at last back to normal levels, Dick reached for the pulse ox on his finger. Tim’s eyes widened as if he had completely forgotten about it and he snapped it off his finger, flinging it as hard as he could and shattering a mirror in the process.
“We’ll pay for that.” Dick said. “And with serious tips to the cleaners. Just… Just work out however much everyone wants and send the invoice to Wayne Enterprises.”
“Dick.” Tim mumbled. “Can we please just go?”
“Yeah, yeah of course. Thank you again, Yelena. I wish we met under better circumstances, but thank you.”
“No worries at all.” She said.
Dick hesitated a little longer, turning fully to her.
“Could you please not speak of this? We… Tim’s not quite ready for it to be public information just yet.”
While Tim had very much vomited on live television, not to mention whatever videos the personal assistants and producers had managed to capture when Yelena had first come in, Dick wanted Tim to be the one to decide when it is, if ever, publicly announced that he has been diagnosed with epilepsy. Dick was going to need to talk to Barbara about clearing whatever videos of Tim’s seizure they had managed to get.
With how little control the condition gave Tim over it, it should be up to him what he says about it.
“Patient confidentiality is paramount.” Yelena promised.
Tim stuck close to Dick as they came out of the greenroom.
By some miracle there were two security guards standing by the door who escorted them to the parking lot, making certain that Tim wasn’t hounded by questions or cameras. They were even more careful once they got fully outside, knowing that paparazzi sometimes followed any of the Wayne children trying to get the next big scoop on the ever growing family.
Once Tim was safely in the car, falling asleep almost immediately, Dick making sure to drive carefully to keep him as comfortable as possible.
Dick was only a little bit surprised to find that Bruce was already waiting at the door for him, no doubt having booked it from Wayne Enterprises in order to be home when Tim got there. Given that Dick had updated the running log for Tim’s seizures, including the time, type and resulting symptoms when coming out of it, Dick had almost expected someone to be waiting for them when they got to the Manor.
Dick however was genuinely completely one hundred percent surprised to see one Janet Drake standing by Bruce’s side.
Given that Tim had stirred when Dick parked, seeing his Mother by their Dad’s side and immediately ducked his head, Dick thought that Tim was just as surprised as Dick was.
“I can make her leave.” Dick offered.
But Tim was already shaking his head.
“I asked her to be more involved.” He muttered. “Guess she’s more involved.”
“Tim.” Dick said. “If you don’t want to deal with her right now, I’ll send her home.”
Tim sunk low in his seat.
“I want her here.” He said.
“But if you’re too tired,”
“I want her here.” Tim said a little more firmly.
Dick gave him extra time to reconsider even though he could tell that Bruce was anxious to check in on him, and it was Tim himself who opened the car door first.
Janet immediately went to meet him halfway but by some miracle Bruce managed to stop her. Tim’s head rose a little, glancing between Bruce and Janet. At Bruce’s nod, Tim approached his Mother first.
Dick went to Bruce instead.
“He’s okay, B.” Dick said quietly.
“Of course he is,” Bruce said. “He had you with him.”
While Dick knew that it was a generic compliment, it still warmed his chest. He cleared his throat, tilting his head towards the Manor. They walked as one as Tim and Janet stayed outside a little longer.
Dick hesitated then, not wanting to leave Tim alone with Janet if he was so hesitant to see her in the first place, but Bruce nudged him on.
They took all of three steps before Dick was stopping again.
“The interview-”
“Was cut off as soon as Tim vomited.” Bruce said. “Barbara’s already working on keeping any videos of Tim’s seizure from being released. The priority right now is helping him recover as much as we can.”
“Yeah…”
“Dick?”
Dick blinked.
“You did well, Son, Tim is safe.”
“I know.” Dick said. “He just got awfully close about talking about the whole Red Robin thing in front of a civvie.”
“The rambling of a confused person who’s just experienced a seizure.”
“Sure,” Dick said. “But the first aider that was helping out was pretty switched on. I don’t think she actually understood what Tim was talking about, but it did make me wonder if one of these days someone is going to believe him when he’s confused and scared and talking about vigilantes.”
Given that Janet now knew their secret explicitly because of Tim’s epilepsy, it wasn’t all that much of a stretch that one of these days the secret lives they have maintained over decades now could be revealed at any moment if Tim came out of a seizure either thinking that he was Red Robin or like today thinking that Dick was Nightwing or worst of all if Bruce was Batman.
Of course, it’s easy enough to explain away confused ramblings. It’d be much harder to explain why the dainty little Timothy Drake was able to drop men three times his size with very little effort, or if he went out as Red Robin again while confused and unaware of what had happened to him and the fact that it was unsafe for him to go out in uniform at the moment.
Dick had had nightmares of Tim slipping passed the Manor’s alarms, going out as Red Robin and either getting into a fight he wasn’t ready for or forgetting to set off his grappling hook before flying off a building.
He thought that maybe Bruce had the same dreams because Bruce reached out, squeezing Dick’s shoulder and while Bruce didn’t speak, Dick knew that he understood.
“I was going to be a meteorologist.” Yelena said. “I even had a contract at the studio before I fully graduated.”
“Meteorologist to first aide officer pipeline,” Dick chuckled. “Now that’s one I haven’t heard of.”
Dick took a drink and Yelena matched it.
Given that it was still pretty early in the night, Yelena didn’t need to speak too loudly over the other customers of the bar though given that there was a guitarist getting ready for a set, Dick wouldn’t be too surprised if it started picking up soon.
With Tim safe at home with Bruce watching over him, Dick had needed to clear his head. He hadn’t expected to happen across Yelena here, fully intent on having a few beers before fucking off to go have a nap, but she had come over to him with beer so he could very well have sent her away.
It was good to have company, even if Dick could probably do with some solitude just for a little while.
“When I was a kid,” Yelena said. “I’d make my family sit down and listen to me talk about the weather. I don’t know how they handled it, especially when little eight year old me realised that the weather systems that happen in Gotham are out of the ordinary.”
“City’s cursed.” Dick said.
“City’s cursed.” She agreed, probably not realising that he actually meant it. “Anyway, my sister would always get so bored with it that she’d start singing at the top of her lungs in order to get me to shut up.”
Dick leaned back a little, listening to her even as he took another drink.
“Then one day, I was presenting about the forecast for Metropolis and she stopped singing. I was so happy, thinking that I had finally got through to her, but our parents had started panicking. They called an ambulance and I was so mad because it meant that they weren’t listening to my weather report. I actually tried making the paramedics listen instead, but they told me that my sister was sick and she needed to go to the hospital.”
“A seizure.” Dick guessed.
Yelena nodded.
“A few days later,” She said. “She was diagnosed with juvenile myoclonic epilepsy. I still made her listen to my dumb reports once she was home but it was never the same again. She wasn’t the same. The seizure she had had… It had stopped her from breathing.”
Dick suddenly remembered how often Yelena had checked over Tim’s oxygen satiation and thought that maybe he understood why.
“I’m sorry.”
The words felt empty but Dick found that there wasn’t anything else to say. It wasn’t pity. It was simply an acknowledgement that it was a shit situation. Empathy, not sympathy.
“She was different.” Yelena said. “But she will always be my sister. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
“A new normal.” He mused.
“A new normal.” Yelena said.
“So you said that you studied meteorology?”
“I never fully graduated,” She explained. “Our parents weren’t doing too well so I took my sister in full time. The studio were unbelievably kind and let me work as a first aider instead so that I can support her on top of what little disability payments she gets. I found out I liked medicine more than I expected to weather forecasting anyway, though I’ll admit that what happened yesterday was the most exciting thing to happen in the time that I’ve been there.”
“Let me guess, usually it’s just paper cuts?”
“And hung over guests, don’t forget the hung over guests.” She leaned closer to him. “And hung over hosts.”
Dick made a show of being scandalised and she laughed, pulling away again.
“Anyway,” She said. “That’s my life. A bit different to the Great Dick Grayson.”
“Not so different.” Dick said. “Though I’ll admit I’ve never done a weather report in front of my siblings, I’m pretty sure they would do far worse to me than just singing my ear off. Tim, though? Now Tim actually loves giving presentations.”
While Dick knew that he should keep their private lives as private as possible but it felt good to be talking to someone who at least in some way understood what it was like to have a loved one experience seizures.
Of course Yelena’s sisters initial seizure had been far more debilitating than Tim’s have ever been, though he had had a few that had been incredibly dangerous and life threatening, Dick thought that this may be the first time that he was speaking with a sibling of someone with epilepsy.
It wasn’t romantic between them, not like some of the trysts that Dick had gone home with years ago after having shit days. They were here as friends, or at least comfortable acquaintances. If Dick was being honest, it was a very nice distinction.
“Presentations?” Yelena asked.
“Yeah, they could be just about anything. The crazier the concept, the more he gets into it. One time, he was talking about which Justice League member could take on Mulan,”
“Mulan as in Disney Mulan? Or historical Mulan?”
“Both.” Dick said. “And he of course had three whole sides just about appreciating Shang’s abs.”
“Of course.” Yelena grinned.
“Anyway, he was presenting about whatever and he…”
Dick swallowed roughly.
“He had an absence seizure. A minute later he continued on from exactly where he had left off, completely unaware of just how scared we were for him. He continued but I felt… Stuck, in that moment. Useless to get passed it, knowing that his brain was hurting even when he doesn’t always realise it.”
“It fucking sucks.” Yelena said.
“It fucking sucks.” Dick sighed.
He took a long drink but Yelena nursed her own beer instead of matching it.
“Mr. Grays-” Yelena stopped herself, starting again. “Dick. There’s a group I go to, meant for people whose family members have Epilepsy or other seizure disorders. I know it’s sounds a little dorky, but it’s been a big help.”
“It’s not dorky at all,” Dick said quickly. “But I think I’m all good. We’ve already worked out how to handle his seizures and how to make sure his life can go back to what it used to be like, or at least as much as it can be.”
While Tim had been working extremely hard to retrain his body to be able to go out as Red Robin once more, a lot of his fitness having been lost to several months of uncontrolled seizures not to mention the various infections he had developed in that time, Dick didn’t think he would ever be able to return to his full duties as Red Robin.
It was frustrating, for no one more so than Tim himself, but Dick needed his little brother to stay safe.
Being a vigilante wasn’t safe from the start but being a vigilante with Epilepsy? Impossible.
Dick would let Tim train, would spar with him even, but the idea of Tim doing anything more than the occasional press event in uniform chilled him to the very bone.
“Dick,” She said. “This isn’t just about Tim’s condition. It’s stressful for family members, you know that as much as I do. Handling their seizures is one thing, handling our own feelings about the seizures and the changes that have to be made because of them? That’s something completely different.”
Not so comfortable acquaintances after all.
“It’s been a pleasure talking to you, Yelena, take care.”
When he went to stand, Yelena grabbed his hand and it took every fibre of Dick’s being to not grip onto her arm and twist it until it broke because everything suddenly felt like pinpricks in his skin.
This wasn’t about Dick, none of this was about Dick.
Tim was the one with the life threatening condition.
Tim was the one who struggled with sleep at the best of times and now had a condition that is heightened during exhaustion.
Dick was just Dick.
He could be there for Tim, could hold him as he cried or keep him on his side in case he vomited, but that was nothing compared to what Tim himself was going through. Dick didn’t need to talk to anyone about it because there was nothing to talk about.
There was nothing he needed to process.
There was nothing to do except his best in those horrible situations.
“Consider it.” Yelena urged. “We meet on Thursday nights at the Rec Centre on 17th.”
“Good night, Yelena,” Dick said. “Thank you again for helping me with Tim.”
He didn’t need to go to a support group.
Sure, Tim might benefit from a support group, given that he was the one with the diagnosis, but this wasn’t that big of a deal compared to everything else that Dick has been through and dealt with so there was no way he was going to waste time talking to people that he could better spend on Patrol or doing investigations.
No, he didn’t need a support group.
He didn’t.
When Dick’s phone buzzed, he hated that he even so much as looked at the details that Yelena had just sent through. He deleted the message, brought it back, deleted it again.
Dick shrugged on his jacket, only realising that he’d left the last of his beer on the table when he was already standing outside in the rain.
He scrubbed his face, trying to clear his memory of Tim shuddering in his arms in the greenroom, screaming again and again and again as confusion and fear took over everything else. Running his fingers hard in his own hair, Dick brought out his phone again, getting Yelena’s message back out of the trash.
It was an image of a flyer, one with a purple ribbon on it.
The Gotham Society for Families of Epilepsy Sufferers.
Weekly meetings 7pm,
Wayne Family Recreation Centre
512 7th Ave, Gotham
Refreshments provided
Sufferer.
The term sank deep in Dick’s chest. They had spent so long trying to get Tim to accept his epilepsy as a simple part of him, one that should bring no shame or resentment. One that they needed to account for, yes, but a fact that should not consume his every waking thought.
Tim wasn’t a sufferer, at least Dick didn’t want to think of Tim that way.
Tim was still… Tim.
No, Dick didn’t need to go to some dumb meeting, let alone one hosted at a rec centre literally named after Bruce’s family.
After Dick’s family.
And besides all that, Dick wasn’t the only one dealing with Tim’s epilepsy. All of them were, and if anything they were the ones who needed to talk it all out. Hell, they probably had a lot worse things to talk about than just witnessing a few seizures, and a few times where Tim had nearly legitimately died right in front of their eyes, Tim’s epilepsy had nothing on all the shit they’d seen as vigilantes.
It was great that there was support for families, it really was, but Dick didn’t need that support.
Tim had been terrified, pounding fists against Dick’s chest. He had been screaming, then damn near gave away their secret identities because he had been convinced that Dick was there as Nightwing not as Dick Grayson.
Even before Tim’s seizure at the studio, Dick’s nerves had been screaming at him for months, constantly waiting for the next time that Tim was going to drop. Constantly vigilant that something may go wrong, constantly aware that at any moment they could very well lose Tim or Tim could lose himself to irreparable brain damage.
So, Dick was a little stressed. But he’d been stressed since the day his parents had died, this was no different.
Except it was different.
Tim was Tim, but Tim was also Dick’s little brother and while they have more recently been able to reduce Tim’s seizures drastically in both severity and occurrence, they were still going to keep happening for the rest of Tim’s life.
Dick was going to keep seeing his brother hurting.
Dick was going to keep being useless except to keep him on his side and time how long the seizure lasted.
Dick was going to keep feeling utterly useless.
“Fuck.” Dick muttered. “Fuck all of this.”
He checked over the flyer once last time, then saw the accompanying message from Yelena.
Think about it.
Think about Shang’s abs.
Dick’s laugh was as broken as he was.
Fine. He sent back. Thx again for today.