Chapter Text
“Easy, Babybird, don’t move.”
The very first instinct that anyone has when told to not move, is to absolutely one hundred percent immediately move.
Tim launched up to his feet, ready to fight whatever threat was coming at him, except he never actually managed to get off the ground, his legs just kicking out uselessly as pain ripped through him.
The world pulsed, an emptiness washing over him and replacing the sharp fire that had lanced through his body.
Distantly, he knew that he was losing consciousness.
Distantly, he knew that was probably a bad thing.
Distantly, there was shouting, the sting of smoke in the air.
“Breathe, it’s okay, you’re okay.”
Just by the fact that Dick was saying that things were okay meant that things were very much not okay and Tim latched onto that knowledge, forcing away the last of the darkness because right now he obviously needed to focus on the threat and not simply pass out into the nothingness.
“There you go,” Dick said fondly. “That’s it, you’re doing amazing.”
Tim blinked slowly, the Nightwing above him still almost fading into the background.
Nightwing.
Babybird.
Red Robin, not Tim. He was Red Robin which meant that no matter what, he was fully capable of using his body because Red Robin was so much stronger than Tim Drake ever could be.
“Don’t, Bud, just stay still.”
Red Robin rose except he had barely managed to get his head off of Nightwing’s lap before he was slamming back down on it, new pain exploding throughout his entire body. He shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as the world spun around him, trying and failing to breathe.
He had only realised that he’d been screaming when the sound suddenly cut off, his chest stuttering with a cough instead.
“Dammit Timmy, can’t you just believe me for once without testing it first?”
Timmy?
Red Robin’s hand fumbled towards his own face, finding not only that he was not wearing a mask, but he wasn’t wearing gloves either. Worse than that, his fingers were wet with something, the liquid already cooling.
“Easy, just breathe, shh, I’ve got you.”
Someone was hurt.
Someone was hurt and Tim had just been laying here, chilling on Nightwing’s lap, when he should be making sure that whoever it was that was hurt was okay.
Tim tried yet again to rise but this time Nightwing’s fingers started carding through his hair, keeping him exactly where he was.
A cough shook deep in Tim’s chest and white blurs overtook half his vision as he could again, and again.
“Easy, easy,”
“Wing…” Tim wheezed.
“It’s me, you’re okay, just hold on, it’s okay.”
Tim blinked slowly, his breathing at last settling.
“You know…” He mumbled. “The more you say that, the more I feel like something is very much not okay…”
Even just that many words stole Tim’s breath fully away and he was coughing again, this time his tongue becoming coated in metal.
Tim stilled completely.
That wasn’t metal.
That was blood.
Tim’s eyes welled before he could stop them because he had just coughed up blood and everyone knows that coughing up blood means that you’re dying and he didn’t want to die, not yet, maybe not even ever.
No. No, blood does not necessarily mean massive internal injury, and by extension it did not automatically mean that he was dying. He could have simply been punched in the face, or irritated his throat with a spray of chemicals.
And even if Tim did have internal bleeding, if Nightwing was here with him he must have already contacted extra support.
“It’s okay.” Tim said, his voice faint even to his own ear.
“Yeah, Bud, it’s okay.”
“Go to the others.”
“Tim,"
Pressure built up in Tim’s chest but he did not allow himself to cough, he needed to prove to that he could manage himself for a little while now that he was conscious. There was sobs somewhere to the side of him, a voice he did not recognise which meant that Nightwing’s responsibility wasn’t just to Tim, but to whatever civilian had been hurt too.
“Go.” Tim said.
His whole body ached but when Tim’s hand ghosted against his ribs, the world pulsed white.
“Don’t move,” Nightwing snapped. Then, more softly. “You’re hurt, Babybird, pretty badly.”
Tim probed his ribs again, letting the pain pass through him instead of overwhelming him.
“GSW.” Tim whispered.
There was already gauze pressed over the wound but Tim knew that burning, though his head was still a little fuzzy with what had led up to him being in Nightwing’s lap.
“Just hold on, Tim.”
“You’re Nightwing.” Tim said. “Go be Nightwing.”
“Tim,”
“I’m okay.” Tim said. “Honest. You’ve already done what you can for me, go help the others.”
“I can keep you conscious.”
“I can keep myself conscious. Go.”
Nightwing’s jaw ticked.
He was slow to move, especially slow to actually shuffle back enough to lay Tim fully down onto the concrete below him. Tim ground his own teeth, refusing to express pain just in case it made Nightwing incorrectly prioritise his safety over the safety of others. There were civilians littered around them, civilians that needed Nightwing’s help right now.
They had already risked exposing their identities, just by virtue of Nightwing calling him Babybird, but Tim refused to be the reason that other people did not get the care that they needed.
Nightwing stayed right by his side for a long moment, cupping Tim’s cheek.
Tim forced a steady smile, hating that his lips felt wet with blood.
“I’m okay. Go.”
At last Nightwing stood fully and Tim had to fight every single instinct to reach out towards him, his heart rabbiting in his chest the very moment that Nightwing disappeared from Tim’s view.
He didn’t realise that he had whimpered until Nightwing was already crouched by his side once more, soothing fingers running through his hair.
“Sorry.” Tim’s lip wobbled. “I’m fine. It’s fine. Go. Please, Nightwing, go.”
Nightwing let out a slow breath. He tilted his head, gaze flicking up to something on Tim’s other side.
“Tim,” Nightwing said. “This might hurt a little, but would it be better if you are leaned up against that wall? You can watch me the whole time, then.”
Tim did not mention the previous command to not move at all, instead nodding his head quickly.
He steeled himself and yet the moment that Nightwing eased him to sitting, he was lurching forward with a broken sob.
Nightwing apologised softly, giving Tim a long moment before looping his arm beneath Tim’s legs. Nightwing lifted him. Unable to fully bite back the cry that was ripped from him, Tim burrowed his head into Nightwing’s chest, his whole body shuddering as pain thrummed through him.
“That’s it, shh, that’s it, I’m going to move slow Bud, just keep breathing, that’s it…”
The walk was short, barely more than a few feet, and yet as Tim was set down once more he damn near passed out. Tim rocked forward instead, arms wrapping tightly around the bandages on his abdomen.
By the time Tim fully came back into himself, he found that Nightwing was cupping his cheek again, wiping a tear away.
“I know, I know,” Nightwing murmured. “Just hold on, come on Bud, you’ve got this. Just breathe.”
Tim didn’t want to breathe, he wanted to be in Nightwing’s arms again, he wanted to pain to stop and the world to stop and everything to just stop.
“Breathe, Love.”
Nightwing shifted, fully kneeling by Tim’s side.
The hand that was not pressing directly onto his wound was gently pulled away, Nightwing guiding it up to his chest instead.
“You know what to do Timmy, just breathe with me, okay?”
NIghtwing took in an exaggerated breath, Tim’s hand moving alongside it. Tim steadied himself, following it perfectly within just two breaths because they couldn’t be wasting time like this, not when civilians could possibly be injured.
He could focus himself, he could breathe, he could be okay.
“Go.” Tim said.
“They each already have been triaged,” Nightwing said. “You’re the most-“
“Go.” Tim snapped. “Check on their bandages, then. Or check in on more minor injuries. I’m fine, Nightwing.”
Tim met Nightwing’s eyes, silently begging Dick to just listen to him and believe that he really was okay, even if he wasn’t.
This time when Nightwing finally pulled away again, Tim’s heart did not rabbit, his gaze simply following Nightwing as he worked.
There were other victims after all, and now that Tim was sitting up he could see that he was outside a café.
A server lay dead a few feet away from Tim, though Nightwing had already spent the time to close their eyes for them out of respect. A few of the customers lay huddled in small groups, some holding each other and some holding onto bandaged wounds in much the same way that Tim himself was.
There was a cop too that was slouched strangely and at first Tim thought that they may be dead too, when Nightwing approached them they raised their head just a little, responding to whatever it was Nightwing was asking them.
Tim readjusted, fire burning through his side. He breathed evenly, pressing a little harder onto the entry wound.
The world tilted but Tim ignored it, watching Nightwing move onto a young woman who was clutching onto one of her arms, blood streaming down from the injury that had been hidden beneath gauze.
Nightwing really must have used every single medical supply he had on his person, and probably from the Café’s and surrounding businesses first aid kits too and yet there was no sign of any emergency personnel around.
They were coming though, Tim knew they were coming, distant sirens echoing like they always did in Gotham.
Tim breathed, he breathed and he watched and he even smiled grimly when Nightwing glanced back towards him because Tim was alright and Nightwing couldn’t afford to waste time worrying about him.
There were too many victims just for Nightwing to handle by himself but the screaming sirens were still so far away, no doubt overwhelmed with whatever else was going on in the city.
One of the civilians actually had two gunshot wounds, though admittedly one seemed to be more of a graze than anything else. Nightwing was helping them, their adrenaline having apparently passed through them leaving them in pain that they hadn’t fully registered until now.
Nightwing was trying to soothe them and Tim wanted to go help too but when he tried to stand, his legs barely even shifted at all.
Tim’s hand ghosted his face, wondering if there had always been so much blood dripping down his chin.
“Wing?”
Nightwing was still with the other casualty, as he should be.
Tim was fine, he really genuinely was, he just needed to wait a little longer. The ambulances were on the way, and while in truth Tim wanted absolutely nothing to do with ambulances let alone hospitals, even he could tell that this wasn’t really going to be a wait-until-we-get-to-the-cave situation.
He was stable, of course, but he was also still very much shot.
When he tried to readjust again, new pain thrummed through him, the whole damn world deciding to spin in solidarity.
To focus himself, Tim watched Nightwing work while he himself rehearsed the lines he would need to say to the paramedics. Yes, he would go to the hospital. Even the mere thought of it sent acid through his veins so he focused on the next part instead. Yes, he would go to the hospital, on the condition that the other injured civilians get transported first.
But maybe Tim could convince Nightwing to not force him to get into an ambulance at all.
No, as far as Nightwing was meant to be concerned, Timothy Jackson Drake was supposed to just be another person that he was watching over while waiting for emergency services.
They were not brothers right now, no matter how hesitant Nightwing had been to leave his side. Tim was just another victim while Nightwing was just another vigilante.
Tim readjusted again, biting his lip hard as his wound pulled weirdly.
Tim’s fingers were tingling, but that was manageable because right now Nightwing needed to be readjusting the binding of a older man’s leg, and that was much more important.
Of course, Tim was important too, there was no denying that he was injured and even though he really really really did not want to have to go to hospital yet again, even he could tell that he wasn’t going to get away with just walking this one off.
Tim did not feel any other bandages except for the one on his side, it was highly possible that there was no exit wound.
Which meant that there might very well be a bullet still in him.
Great.
That was just great.
“Hey, uh, Nightwing?”
Tim clamped his own mouth shut because he was not going to demand to not be made to go to Gotham General, he wasn’t, he could act the perfect patient at least for a little while. Everything was going to be fine. He was fine too, of course he was.
The gunshot wasn’t even that significant, but the general public had clearly seen that he had been shot and shot people were meant to go to hospital.
He was probably just going to spend a day there, two max. It was going to be fine.
Tim’s hands trembled but when he pressed harder against the bandage on his side he jerked forward.
Nightwing’s head had snapped up just as quickly, already striding towards Tim before Tim even managed to catch his breath.
“I’m fine.” Tim said in greeting.
“You’re pale.” Nightwing shot back.
“It’s the lack of sun.” Tim said. “I’ll make sure to go to the Bahama’s next week.”
“Not with that injury you’re not.”
“Oh, but Mr. Nightwing, now that you’re here we all feel so much safer. In fact, it almost feels like I wasn’t actually hit at all so if you don’t mind, I think I will just-”
“You stand up, you will pass out.” Nightwing said flatly.
Tim scowled, crossing his arms fully and immediately regretting it.
“You don’t know that.” He muttered.
Nightwing tilted his head just a little and it was absolutely a fucking dare but Tim would not stoop to Dick’s level and it had nothing at all to do with the fact that he very much could not stand up on his own strength right now.
Instead of leaving, Nightwing crouched fully beside him.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, Mr. Nightwing Sir.”
“Tim.”
Tim took in a measured breath, proving that it did not hurt to do so. Then, just for extra proof, Tim gripped onto Nightwing’s wrist and guided it towards his own, two fingers dutifully pressing on his pulse point.
“I’m stable.” Tim said.
Nightwing opened his mouth to argue but Tim spoke again before he could.
“Really. I’m okay. I’ll tell you if things change.”
“Tim,”
Tim glanced around, confirming that the other civilians were not listening in before he met Nightwing’s eye.
“I promise.” Tim said softly. “I will tell you. I’m in a good place right now, Wing, I’ll tell you if something feels wrong.”
“I know you say that, but I also know your nasty habit of downplaying if you’re in pain.”
As if Dick fucking Grayson himself never downplayed injuries or illnesses.
“I am in pain.” Tim allowed. “And I will need to go to the hospital to treat this, I know I will. I’ll hate it, but I’ll handle it. I will tell you if something feels wrong before the medics get here.”
Nightwing tried to grin but it simply was not real. He was worried, genuinely worried, but Tim was fine and right now Nightwing needed to prioritise the people who might very well not be fine themselves.
At last, though after confirming that his bandage was holding first, Nightwing moved away once more.
Tim was satisfied to just watch, if anything letting Nightwing’s confident movements and calming voice as he settled the other civilians sooth him just as much as it soothed them.
Nightwing was handling it.
Everything was okay because Nightwing was handling it.
The cop that had been slouching weirdly fell fully and Nightwing shot off towards them, checking for a pulse.
He must not have found one because Nightwing’s lips moved in a silent curse and all at once Nightwing had the officer fully on their back, hands already pressing down hard on their chest in a consistent rhythm that Tim himself couldn’t help but follow along with.
But counting compressions wasn’t enough, Tim should be helping.
He needed to help. He needed to stand and go over to the officer and act as a stand in for once Nightwing gets too tired to continue compressions, he needed to check in with Nightwing himself to see how he was managing the stress of being the sole caretaker of so many injured.
Tim stayed exactly where he was, back pressed up against the wall, hand pressed up against his side. Tim was injured, and he was Tim right now and that meant he could not intercede with vigilante business. Of course, each of them have blurred the lines between civilian and heroism more times than even Tim could count but this time he was going to keep those two lives completely separated.
Nightwing was handling everything and Tim in turn was handling things too. He was going to go into the ambulance when it comes and he was not going to panic and he was not going to fight against any interventions they needed to do. He would be brought to Gotham General and the fluorescent lights and constant noises were not going to overstimulate him because he was going into it knowing to expect it.
Even if he got too overwhelmed, he would just use his breathing techniques and calm himself down and failing that he knew that at the very least a sibling would be right there with him to help give him something other than the pain and the white coats to focus on.
Then again, if Nightwing was handling this mass casualty event by himself with the ambulances somehow held up for far too long, perhaps something else was going on. Gotham was Gotham, there could be a million reasons as to the ambulances being delayed but now that Nightwing was performing CPR he would be too indisposed to tend to any of the other victims if they needed him.
Tim could assist, monitor the vitals and injuries of the other people that had been in the café when the bullets had started raining down, but he wasn’t meant to be moving from where he was.
No.
Nightwing was handling everything.
Tim was going to look after himself this time, if he overexerted his body now then the inevitable hospital stay was going to be that much longer. He had promised to tell Nightwing if he was struggling and he genuinely was going to do just that because Timothy Jackson Drake was just as important as all the other people here.
He was simply going to have to sit here, watch, wait, then deal with the hellhole of treatment and doctors and white walls closing in on him and constant beeping and fuck he didn’t want to go, he didn’t, but he forced himself to breathe evenly.
It was going to be okay.
Everything was going to be okay.
Nightwing stopped performing compressions just long enough to check for a pulse. While Nightwing’s supposed easy confidence did not wane, Tim could tell even from here that he was starting to consider letting the officer go. Without knowing what had made them crash in the first place, CPR would only keep the blood flowing but it did not guarantee that there was anything left to save.
Tim blinked slowly.
His fingers were tingling, probably just from dehydration. No, not dehydration. He’d been shot, being shot means that there could be damage to his circulation just as easily as it could mean that it was simply shock and adrenaline.
“Nightwing.” Tim called.
While Nightwing did not pause in the compressions, he did immediately acknowledge that he had not only heard Tim, but he was listening intently too.
“My hands are tingling.”
As soon as Tim had said it, he wanted to punch himself right in the face because how dare he complain about a little fuzziness when Nightwing was actively trying to save someone’s life while someone else lay dead just a few feet away.
Without pausing in the compressions, Nightwing’s gaze locked onto him.
“Is your bandage holding?” Nightwing demanded.
Tim very much did not want to look down and he wanted to raise his hand away from his covered wound even less. He steeled himself and did just that. Tim’s universe tilted but the red on the bandage was simply from where his bloodied hand had pressed against it.
“Yes.” Tim said. He swallowed thickly. “But… I’m meant to tell you?”
“Absolutely.” Nightwing said.
Nightwing was still beating hard and consistent against the cop’s chest and yet he spared the time and effort to smile warmly at Tim and Tim had done right, he’d done so right and everything was going to be okay.
“Are you dizzy?” Nightwing asked.
Tim considered lying.
It would be easy, a simple one worded negative and Nightwing could focus on the task at hand but Tim was dizzy and he didn’t want to be dizzy and he didn’t want to inevitably spend even longer in the hospital or Cave if he isn’t truthful now.
“A little.” Tim said. “Not passing out level dizzy, just… A little off.”
“Okay.” Nightwing said.
There was a bead of sweat already developing at Nightwing’s brow; even for a vigilante performing CPR was brutal. While knowing the very high chance that the victim wasn’t going to make it no matter how hard you tried made it all the harder.
One by one Nightwing checked in with the other casualties too, impossibly keeping perfect time in the compressions with the conversations. One of the other victims were dizzy too, their pain having grown exponentially in the time since their adrenaline had ebbed away.
Tim listened just as intently as Nightwing did, filing away all important information and shifting one of the previously completely stable patients to the next level. While Nightwing had already checked for bullet wounds on each of them, stressful situations like this could very easily exacerbate other medical conditions and it would be naive to just chalk up any symptoms as simply stress when that same stress could very well kill someone.
Nightwing checked the pulse of the officer again.
Tim willed for Nightwing to find what he was looking for, he bit his lip so hard it nearly bled in his desperate wishing that Nightwing had done enough, that by some miracle, he’d saved them by his quick action and even quicker compassion.
Instead, Nightwing’s hands returned to the officer’s chest.
Tim counted in time once more, but he kept an eye out on the other victims too. While Tim was going to stay right here until the ambulance arrives and he was going to do every single thing that he was asked to do, he felt a little better to have the self imposed task of looking out for the others while Nightwing tried to focus on the task at hand.
The ambulances were taking so long.
Nightwing could keep this up, Nightwing could do anything, he would be fully capable of doing the compressions for as long as necessary even if it took days for the ambulances to finally arrive but that didn’t mean that Tim wanted him to be forced into that kind of situation.
Something else was happening in the city, that was the only possible reason as to why there was no back up for Nightwing, whether it be from other vigilantes or from emergency services. Something was wrong and everyone, Bruce included, were indisposed.
Tim readjusted.
Jolting forward with a wretched gasp, Tim didn’t realise that he was throwing up blood until the new iron was already on his tongue.
He waited for Nightwing to launch up towards him only to realise that he hadn’t actually made a sound at all. Nightwing’s sole focus was once again on the police officer’s who life he was trying so save while Tim’s sole focus was on the fact that more blood was pouring from his mouth now.
Tim tried to swallow, tried to breathe, tried to keep his own heart steady until his body seemed to finally settle once more.
Well, settle as much as it could settle.
There were blurs in his vision where there hadn’t been before, patches of nothingness that were slowly spreading.
“Nightwing.”
It was little more than a whisper, no, it wasn’t even a whisper. Tim had simply opened his mouth, letting off empty air. Curling his fists, Tim tried again.
“Nightwing.”
Nightwing launched up from the clearly dead cop and hope bloomed in Tim’s chest because Tim had told Nightwing that he needed help and he was going to get that help and everything was going to be okay except Nightwing was going towards Tim, he was instead crashing down onto his knees beside the young woman who had apparently just passed out.
While Tim wanted nothing more than for Nightwing to focus on the woman, his vision was blurring even worse now and it was almost like his lungs weren’t actually taking in any air.
“Nightwing. Please.”
Tim’s eyes stung but the tear slipped fully free because while Nightwing was only a few feet away from him, his back was to Tim and no matter how hard Tim tried to speak it was like he simply could not get the air in to actually make a sound at all.
He could cough though, and he did, his whole chest spasming with the effort as new blood poured from his mouth.
“Wing.”
The blurs were growing but so was the emptiness. It was going to swallow him whole and there wasn’t a single thing he could do about it, not without his brother there to pull him out of it again.
“Dick.”
There! A croak but it was a sound at all and that meant that Nightwing would hear him and he would come over and he would make everything okay again and Tim would have done so well because he’d actually told someone that he wasn’t doing alright except Nightwing had not moved from the woman’s side and the blurs were growing and the darkness had consumed over three quarters of the world and something was wrong, something was wrong but he couldn’t do anything to fix it.
Tim pressed hard against the bandage on his side, the burst of pain sharpening all else around him for just a single second before it was fading again.
“Dick, please, I…”
There was warmth soaking through the bandage.
“I need…”
Nightwing’s back was still to him, his focus exactly where it should be no matter how desperate Tim was to have Dick turn to him instead.
He barley even registered that his head had begun to dip until he realised that he simply did not have the strength to hold it back up. The hand once pressed to his side now lay loose on the ground, fingers slick with blood.
The ambulances would be here soon. They would be here and Tim will tell them that he will go with them. He will tell them that he has sensory processing issues. He will tell them that he will consent to what it was that he needed to be done, he would be able to manage it no matter what because he had a family that loved him and they would keep him safe.
The ambulances would be here soon, Tim told himself, and that meant that Nightwing would be relieved of his life saving duties and then Nightwing could focus on Tim instead.
The ambulances would be here soon, though there sirens were fading alongside the rest of the world.
Tim blinked slow, only Nightwing remaining amongst the darkness.
He reached out towards his big brother, knowing that Dick would make everything okay, except his hand did not raise at all and neither did his chest as even Nightwing fell into the nothingness.