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Damian curls up on the couch, flipping his book open. It’s quiet in the manor with almost all of its occupants out of town. Bruce is out of the country, helping the JL with some big mission while Alfred is visiting England. Jason had left town right after Bruce to visit Roy and Lian. Cass is working in Frace on a mission, and Stephanie is working a case with Dick. That leaves Tim and Damian as the only two vigilantes left in the city, though Damian honestly hasn’t minded. Sleeping is hard in this big, quiet house, and splitting the patrol routes with Tim leaves him out a lot longer than it normally would. It leaves him with less time sitting in the dark in his room.
Tim has also been a quiet partner, not speaking much over the comms, which leads Damian to think that he’s got something else on his mind. He’s not normally that quiet, but Damian isn’t going to push. He’s probably working on a tough case. It has been pretty chill since they were left alone with no Rogue attacks, or major issues in Jason’s territory. Damian pauses his reading after a while, glancing down at his watch.
“Hm, I lost track of time. I should start preparing dinner.”
He gently places the bookmark into his book, but his phone starts ringing before he can stand up.
“Hello.”
“Hey, can you get out on the streets? I’m working a gang case, and it turns out that drugs are involved. Now a few people are kinda trying to kill me.”
“Make sure your tracker is on, and I’ll be there in a few,” Damian replies, trying not to sound exasperated.
He’s not going to have time to make and eat dinner at this rate. They’re going to finish this, and then he’ll have maybe ten minutes before patrol, and that’s if he’s lucky. He can’t put patrol off since the area he’s covering is so large, and he has school tomorrow morning. He fixes his cape with a sigh.
Guess I have to give up the idea of eating tonight. I’ll get up in time to have breakfast tomorrow.
He pulls up Tim’s tracker, and heads off to his brother’s location. He makes the trip quickly between his grapple gun, and small sprints across rooftops. The wind is blowing pretty hard, ruffling his hair and cape. He finds Tim completely alone, tucked in an alleyway, dressing a small wound on his arm.
“Red.”
Tim waves briefly without looking up.
“Where are the criminals, and who are we dealing with?”
“They’re a few blocks back, but I wasn’t able to stop the deal yet. So they’ll either find us, or claim that they scared us off when the client asks about it. It’s one of Gotham’s ‘elite’. One of those socialite pricks. I don’t remember his name, but he’s the worst. Calls me names all the time,” Tim adds under his breath as he pins the bandage in place.
“What kind of- Nevermind. We can discuss that later. Especially since we have an event in a few days.”
“Will the others be back by then?”
Damian shrugs. “I don’t know, but it currently isn’t looking like it. I was told that I would probably have to represent, so…”
“Damn, must be serious, cause I thought he would never ask you. Anyway, we should stop that deal before the prick gets away.”
Damian hums, motioning for Tim to lead the way. Damian follows Tim back to the warehouse where goons are gathering back up, obviously having given up on finding Tim. Damian clocks the socialite instantly since he’s the only one dressed up, and is actively rummaging through an absurd amount of drugs, all packed into tiny little bags.
“He’s probably going to be hosting a party or something like that,” Tim says distastefully.
“Is that normal?”
“Well considering I got invited to a drug party the day after my dad’s funeral, I’ll say yes.”
“That doesn’t seem socially appropriate.” Tim shrugs.
“Gotham doesn’t even have common courtesy. I’ll go around back, you come from the side. Make sure to secure the drugs first. I’ll tie him up real fast, and then we can take out the goons.”
Damian nods, hopping off of the building. He sees Tim race across to the next building so he can make his way around, and take them by surprise, and also take out the reinforcements lurking inside the warehouse. Damian waits a couple of minutes, perched on top of a lamppost, watching them talk. Then he swings over, landing between the socialite and the dealer. He knocks the dealer out with one swift hit, and slams the case of drugs closed. The socialite takes off, but Damian doesn’t bother with him, instead turning his attention back to the hordes of goons running towards him.
Wow, this must have been a large deal. Maybe his first with these dealers, so they’re trying to prove something. Not that it matters how many of them there are.
The next fifteen minutes are a blur of fighting making sure to keep the drugs in his peripheral. Finally, the only people left standing are him, and Tim, who’s standing a few feet away.
“Ok, I’ll call the cops, and have them all taken in,” Tim says, grabbing his phone.
Damian nods, a hand reaching up to his collarbone. There’s a small cut there, though quite deep.
How did I get that? Ugh, doesn’t matter. I’ll deal with it later, once patrol is over. This took longer than I had hoped, and now I’m going to be late starting patrol if the cops take as long as they normally do to show up. Ugh, I’m going to get home so late.
Damian can’t help the way his lips twist into a deep frown. Tim drops a hand onto Damian’s shoulder.
“Hey, you good?”
“I’m fine, just annoyed. I haven’t eaten today, and it looks like a late night is ahead of us.”
“Well, how about this: we can go get some food, and I’ll take the last half hour of your patrol route if you’re not feeling up to it? You don’t have to answer now, but if you’re tired, or it’s getting too late, then you can comm me, and I’ll come to you.”
Damian hesitates.
“Alright, but I don’t need you to patrol for me. I can cover that.”
“Ok, then you don’t have to reach out.”
Tim puts a gentle hand on Damian’s shoulder, holding it there for a second. Damian’s shoulders slump, allowing himself to relax. He tenses as soon as the sound of the sirens reach them, and Tim pulls away. He walks over to the case, opening it, and counting the bags.
Damn it, why didn’t I remember to do that? We’re always supposed to have our own files to give to Gordon so we can make sure the right amount makes it all the way to evidence.
Damian strides off to meet the cops. Exactly as Damian thought it would, they end up taking forever to get everyone into custody, and gather all of the evidence, making Tim and Damian almost two hours late to start patrol. Damian ends up telling Tim that they should get started immediately since they’re so late, and he’ll eat when he gets home. By then, his head is spinning, and he’s a little dizzy. If Tim notices, he doesn’t mention it.
“Make sure you let me know when you get home, Baby Bat.”
Damian nods, the world tilting even after he’s stilled. He doesn’t remember most of patrol, breezing through it without really being able to keep track of what’s going on. He’s coming to the last stretch when his legs give out.
Damn, this shouldn’t be happening just cause I haven’t eaten, and didn’t sleep last night. I’ve trained for this.
He stumbles back to his feet unsteadily, reaching for his comm.
“Red, can you finish up my patrol? I think I need to get home. I don’t feel well,” he admits, the words feeling like poison rolling off of his tongue.
“Of course, let me know when you get home. I’ll come check on you in a bit. I’ve got your location, so you can head back home now.”
“Alright.”
Damian flips his comm off with a tired sigh. He walks home since it’s not far, but it still takes forever, and his head is pounding in time with his heart by the time he gets there. He changes into shorts and a t-shirt, then heads for the kitchen. He reaches for the door of the fridge, then blinks in surprise at his purple nails.
What the hell?
He doesn’t even feel his legs go out this time, barely conscious enough to notice when his head hits the tiles.
Tim races across the rooftop at the end of Jason’s territory, keeping an eye out for any muggers, or small drug deals since Jason is pretty strict about that. This isn’t the first time that Jason has trusted Tim with his territory, but Tim always feels like he has to be hypervigilant since if something happens, Jason won’t be here to make an example out of the person at fault. Normally there’d be some dramatic ass retaliation like cutting out their tongue.
He’s such a theater kid, so dramatic, but everything seems fine here. Guess I should go finish Dami’s patrol, and meet him at the house. He should have checked back in by now, but maybe he just forgot. He did seem off… I’m sure it’s fine. I’ll finish up quickly, and then head there.
Tim races through the rest of Damian’s patrol, not even realizing how fast he’s going, but his anxiety doesn’t let him slow down. The mansion is quiet, even as he walks down the front hall. Tim doesn’t notice that he didn’t lock the door upon coming inside. A lump appears in Tim’s throat, and suddenly he’s unable to swallow.
“Dames? You home?”
There’s no answer, and the dread creeps down his throat, nestling in his chest.
Calm down, maybe he’s in his room.
“Dames?” he calls again, glancing into the sitting room.
He continues walking upon finding no one there, and stops in the doorway to the kitchen. His heart stutters before he’s racing towards Damian. His baby brother is sprawled out across the floor, blood pooling around his head. There’s a cut across his forehead, which looks like he got it in the fall, but he’s not moving either. Tim looks him over, noting how his lips and nails are blue. He leans down to put his ear against Damian’s chest, the other hand held right above Damian’s lips. Tim finds his breathing far too shallow, and his heartbeat slow.
He brushes Damian’s hair away from the cut, only to realize how cold Damian’s skin is. His eyes narrow in on a cut along Damian’s collarbone, small, but deep.
“Careful, cause these guys are using some pretty nasty drugs, so don’t let ’em stick you with anything,” Jason had told him before leaving town.
“You’re overdosing.”
Tim rushes to pull his phone out of his pocket, knowing that he’s not equipped to deal with this alone.
“He keeps the other hand pressed to the inside of Damian’s wrist.
“Come on, Damian. Stay with me.”
He explains the situation to the operator, claiming that Damian had gotten nicked with something while they were on a walk earlier as it was getting dark, but neither of them really thought much of it. They assumed it was nothing, but he was unconscious and barely breathing when Tim got back from grabbing dinner. Once the man on the other end gives Tim an estimate of ten minutes before the ambulance gets there, Tim hangs up, though the man did tell him to stay on the line. He doesn’t bother with that, turning his full attention to Damian. The door is unlocked already, so there’s no reason for him to focus on anything else.
“Ok, stay with me, buddy,” Tim whispers as Damian’s breath stutters.
It evens out, and Tim releases a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
“It’s ok, Akh,” Tim whispers, the word feeling foreign in his mouth, but familiar to his ears. He’s not even sure when Damian had started calling him that, but it never quite felt right to say it back, as though he was overstepping a boundary, and Damian is so careful about the walls he’s built around himself.
Tim cards a hand through Damian’s sweaty hair, pulling him fully onto his side to clear his airways. A few minutes later, Damian stirs for the first time, then vomits all over Tim, and down the front of his own shirt, almost choking. Tim pats his back, trying not to wince.
“You’re ok, you’re ok,” he whispers over and over as if it will make Damian hold on.
Then all of the sudden, paramedics are crashing into the room, and Tim is pulled away from his baby brother. He feels like crying, and pushing back to Damian, but he doesn’t do either. He merely sits back on his heels, and stays out of the way as they suction vomit out of Damian’s throat before placing an oxygen mask on him. He does follow them out to the ambulance, only stopping to grab a travel bag from the closet so he can change clothes once they get there. He tucks himself into the corner, farther from them, and watches. He watches every small deviation to Damian’s heart rate, and he watches Damian’s oxygen levels go down even though he’s having air pumped into his lungs. Thankfully he’s still stable by the time they reach the hospital, but Tim feels dread pool in his stomach when they take him back immediately.
Reasonably he knows how bad it is, but this just confirms it for him. That Damian is critical, and requires care over everyone else there. He slips into the bathroom to change. Turns out this bag is Dick’s, so Tim has to roll the pants up, and tighten his belt the most he can, then pull the hoodie on just so the shirt will stay over his shoulders. It’s comforting despite being uncomfortable to have on, the clothes smell like Dick. They cling to him loose enough to feel like a hug, but tight enough to stay in place. He wraps one arm around himself, the other hand going for his phone. He’s dialing the number before he even registers what he’s doing.
Stephanie sounds groggy when she answers, “Tim, it’s an ungodly hour, what’s going on?”
“Is Dick with you?” he asks, knowing she was staying at his apartment while they were working the case.
“He’s in his room. We only got back from working like three hours ago. Do you want me to get him?”
“Yeah, I need to talk to both of you,” Tim says, his voice shaking.
He can hear springs creaking, and Stephanie grunting as she forces herself out of bed. Probably on aching muscles, and tired bones if they were working a mere three hours ago. Tim can feel his own body beginning to shut down from everything he’s put it through, and the drop of adrenaline. They’re all used to the feeling though, being dragged out of bed to deal with something new right after climbing in, and falling asleep.
“Dick.” He can hear knocking to accompany his oldest brother’s name.
“Yeah, Steph, what’s up?” Dick asks, sounding sleepy.
“Tim called me, and he wanted you to be here before he would tell me why,” Stephanie says, a bit of fear seeping into her voice. “You’re on speaker, Tim. Dick’s here.”
“Hey, Timmy, what’s up?” Dick says, sounding concerned as well.
“So, something happened. You guys are the only ones still in the country other than Jason, so I figured I’d call. I’m gonna text Bruce and Alfred, and they can call me when they have the chance. Anyway, Damian got hurt earlier. It was a small cut, but it ended up being used to transfer drugs into his system. He overdosed after getting home. We’re in the hospital now, but the guys were taken care of earlier.”
“Is he ok?” Dick demands, and Tim can hear him snatch Stephanie’s phone out of her hands.
“I don’t know. He was breathing when we got here, but his oxygen levels were horrible, and I didn’t have any Narcan on hand when I got home. So I couldn’t do anything, but call 911. He was taken in, and I finished changing clothes.”
“We’ll be there in an hour.”
“Do you have any more information?” Stephanie asks as Dick’s footsteps fade.
“No.”
“Are you alright?”
“No,” Tim says, his voice breaking.
“Alright, stay on the phone with me. We’ll be there soon. Sit down, and focus on breathing.”
Tim drops into a chair in the waiting room, curling in on himself. Stephanie keeps up a soft, steady stream of quiet reassurances as she changes clothes, brushes her hair, and gets her shoes on. Tim listens, but doesn’t respond. He can still feel Damian’s cold skin, and sweaty hair; can see his blue nails and lips. Tim takes a deep breath to calm himself down, but he can smell the acrid scent of vomit all over him. He sobs, his chest hitching. Everything fades into the background until a small hand lands on his shoulder. Then he’s being pulled into Stephanie’s arms as she rubs her hand up and down his spine.
“It’s ok. Let it out, I’m here. Dick’s checking in on Dami, and he’ll tell us Dami’s condition when he comes back. Everything’s going to be ok,” Stephanie reassures him, keeping him cradled in her arms.
Tim continues crying, clinging onto Stephanie. Stephanie rocks him back and forth, keeping him close to her chest. It takes a while for him to calm down, his breathing still distinctly off. Stephanie softly wipes away his tears as Dick walks back over. At this point, they’re on the floor, and Tim is leaning against Stephanie.
“He’s alive. He’s going to be transferred to the ICU soon, but he’s alive. I also called the others to tell them what happened. Are you sure you’re alright, Tim?” Dick asks, and Tim can’t even blame him.
This reaction is so out of the ordinary, and far more emotional than he tends to be. Tim shudders, pressing his face into Stephanie’s neck as all of the noises around him get louder.
“He’s running a temperature,” Stephanie whispers.
“Ok, I want to see if we can get him checked out. I’ll go ask them. See if you can pull any information out of him about if anything could have happened to him too.”
They’re still on the floor when Dick comes back, but Stephanie looks pensive.
“He said that he got hurt right before Damian, but it was fine, because he only needed three stitches.”
“Do you think drugs might have been involved with him too?”
“It’s possible. I don’t think he’s overdosing, but I have no real way of knowing. Wouldn’t it have hit him sooner?”
“Not necessarily, especially since Damian’s a lot smaller than Tim.”
Dick puts a hand on Tim’s forehead, leaning him away from Stephanie. Tim whines, his eyes glossy.
“Give him to me,” Dick commands.
Stephanie pulls back, and Dick scoops Tim into his arms.
“No, let go of me. I’m fine,” Tim argues, his movements slow as he tries to get away from Dick. He can’t even get his hands out of his hoodie sleeves though, making his efforts completely useless. He flops against Dick’s chest after only a few seconds, his eyes drooping with the effort. Dick says something, but it feels too far away for Tim to keep up, so he decides to go to sleep since that feels infinitely easier.
Damian wakes up surprisingly unaware. Normally he’d be aware as soon as he’s conscious, but waking up feels slow this time. It’s not something that he’s used to, but it has happened before. Normally with concussions, or heavy medication. The first thing he notes when he manages to pry his heavy eyes open is that Brown is sitting nearby, one leg propped across her lap, a book settled against it. Her eyes trace the pages, not even noticing Damian. It’s quickly apparent where he is, and he tsks in disapproval.
If Brown is here, then Grayson is too. That means I did something to land myself in the hospital, and pull them away from their case. But what was it? I can’t remember anything other than… going home to my book.
“Brown.”
Stephanie looks up, her eyes lighting up.
“Hey, Dames. How are you feeling?”
“Sore, and quite tired. What happened?”
“You got drugged, overdosed. Tim called us.”
“Timothy, we were-” Patrol . “Where is he?”
“He’s also admitted. He’ll be fine, but they want to watch him while they get the rest of the drugs out of his system too. Dick wanted us to swap, but Tim insisted that I sit with you. Wanted to make sure that you were being watched by someone who would text him immediately. Speaking of which, I’m going to do that while we’re talking, I’m still listening.”
“I remember everything. Everything except getting home. I was walking there, but I don’t actually remember making it home. Did I get there before passing out?”
Stephanie nods.
“Yep, no need to worry about what state you were in. The cover story has been taken care of too. The only thing you need to focus on is getting better.”
Damian hums, having heard that a thousand times before.
“I want to see Timothy.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure he wants to see you too,” Stephanie replies, setting her phone back down on the nightstand.
Damian proceeds to sit up, and reach for his IV. Stephanie barely has time to catch his hand before he can rip it out.
“Chill, little dude. You’ll be able to see Tim in a bit. You need that though.”
“Unhand me.”
She lets him go.
“Fine, but no trying to take that out again. Your dad is also on his way back. He was worried about you.”
“Wonderful. Just what I needed.”
“Hey, you guys handled things well. You made sure that the criminals were stopped, and you managed to get medical help before Dick and I got here. You didn’t need any help. You did a good job while you were alone.” Damian rolls his eyes. He yawns, and Stephanie pats his leg.
“Try to get some more rest, and you can see Tim when you wake up.”
Damian tries to argue, but finds he can barely keep his eyes open. So he gives in, and lets himself sleep.
Someone is talking when he wakes up again, and he has half a mind to tell them to shut up, but then he recognizes the voice. His eyes snap open, Tim’s blurry shape coming into view. He’s wearing jeans, and a far too big hoodie, dark bags under his eyes. He’s talking to Dick, who’s standing in the doorway.
“I have to go pick B up from the airport, or he’s going to drive here on no sleep in the last six days. I’ll be back.”
He slips out, and Tim turns back to Damian. His eyes light up when he meets Damian’s.
“Dami, you’re awake! Hey,” Tim says, sitting down in the chair Stephanie was in before.
“Hello, Timothy. Are you alright?”
“I’m alright. I had some drugs in my system, but I’m ok. You, on the other hand, almost died.”
Tim reaches out to brush Damian’s hair back. Damian smiles.
“You’re going to be alright. The doctors say you’re healing well, and Dick is on his way to pick up Bruce now.”
Damian nods.
“I heard you speaking to Grayson… but I’m still tired.”
Tim frowns.
“Alright, you can go back to sleep. It’s ok.”
Damian twists his fingers together, trying to figure out how to voice what he’s thinking. Apparently he doesn’t need to since Tim stands after a few seconds.
“Scoot over. I get it, I don’t really want to feel like you’re not here either. I’m ok though, I promise.”
Damian nods again, scooting to the side. Tim climbs up beside him, opening his arms. Damian nestles against Tim’s side, careful not to disrupt his IV. He sighs, letting his eyes close. He drifts off to Tim’s quiet breathing.