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There was a small huff of breath and then another.
When the weight against Bruce’s side shifting a little, he set his kindle aside, glancing down at his son.
They were sitting on the ground, Tim’s head still rested on Bruce’s shoulder, their carry-on bags in a neat pile beside them. Their larger bags had already been packed away beneath the plane, the very same plane that had been grounded for the last six hours as the storm worsened outside.
As soon as Bruce realised it was unlikely that they would be able to get the flight back to New Jersey today, he had tried to organise a hotel room for the night but Tim had been able to work out that there weren’t actually any free rooms available; the one they had been offered would have needed to be taken from someone else who had actually already booked it.
It had been an easy mutual decision that they just wait it out in the airport instead as to not put anyone out and besides, it wasn’t like there were plenty of other travellers that were stuck in the very same situation as they were.
Of course, the decision to stay here had been made before Tim’s headache had appeared, and in retrospect it may have been better to accept the room anyway and compensate the other guests for the discomfort, if only to have more privacy. At least if they were at the hotel, Bruce might have been able to bring Tim somewhere quieter with less harsh lighting.
No, it had not been a mistake to stay here, Bruce could not change that decision now even if it might had lessened Tim’s discomfort faster.
There were hundreds if not a thousand other travellers that had been put out, it was not like Bruce and Tim alone were a little uncomfortable.
Then again, those unrelenting lights alone might very well be enough to trigger a seizure, especially when exhaustion and stress that was normal when traveling factored into everything.
It had been on Tim’s insistence that they’d traveled like this to begin with, rightfully pointing out that it had been a long time since Bruce Wayne had been seen traveling for work or for pleasure. They could have instead chartered a private plane or simply used the Batplane to get to California for the conference but as it was, they were now stuck here.
Tim made a small sound and Bruce shifted a little, keeping Tim steady.
When Tim’s head dipped a little, Bruce gently readjusted him but it soon dropped down again.
“I’m right here, Lad,” Bruce mumbled.
If Tim could still hear him, he gave no sign, but Bruce spoke to his son all the same. It was always possible that Tim was either partially or fully aware of his surroundings, especially in his smaller medical episodes like this one.
One of Tim’s hands had curled into a fist, squeezed so tightly that his nails were at risk of breaking skin. Bruce took the hand into his own, gently trying to ease the tension in it without risking hurting him further by trying to open the hand against how hard Tim’s muscles were constricting.
“I’m right here, Tim,” Bruce said. “You’re safe. Everything is alright.”
The hand loosened, the other muscles in Tim’s body following suit. His head dipped again but Bruce kept him from falling too far forward.
From the changes to Tim’s breathing, it was clear that he was already trying to stir.
Tim’s hand fumbled for Bruce’s arm and Bruce readjusted yet again, allowing Tim to brace fully against him.
“Do you want to lie down?”
Dazed eyes looked up at him but then they were dropping again.
Tim blinked, swallowed, blinked again.
“What?”
Before Bruce could repeat the question, Tim finally seemed to process it.
“No. I’m… I’m good.”
“Tim,”
“I’m good.” It was stronger this time, Tim even managed to sit up a little. “Can I have some water?”
“Do you feel like you’re going to be sick?”
“No.”
The answer came too quick so Bruce eyed him and waited.
Tim huffed out in annoyance then took a long moment to assess his own body, his breathing fully returning to a normal rhythm.
“No.” Tim said firmly. “I’m all good. Did I have one?”
“Just a small episode,” Bruce said. “Less than a minute.”
To Tim’s credit, he just took in the information and nodded.
Bruce reached into one of their backpacks, passing the bottle to Tim and watching to see if there was any tremors in his body. Even without needing to be reminded, Tim drank slow, small sips, and that was enough to put Bruce’s own heart at ease.
When Tim was done, he set the bottle down and stretched out a little, glancing down at his phone for any notifications.
“Tim,” Bruce said.
“I said I’m all good, B, why can’t you just believe me?”
There was not an answer that Bruce could give that would satisfy either of them so he just stayed silent.
Tim gave a huff of frustration, scrolling through his phone before letting it drop into his lap. He leaned back, closing his eyes and forcing himself to breathe before he finally looked back to Bruce.
“I am fine, Dad, promise.”
It was softer, this time, more genuine.
Tired, too, and so Bruce shifted his arm just a little in case Tim wanted to curl up against him to get some more sleep. Tim smiled weakly, standing up instead. He was a little shaky but Bruce could tell that his legs were capable of holding his own weight so Bruce remained as he was.
“I’m going to go get some more snacks,” Tim said. “Do you want anything?”
As much as Bruce wanted, needed, to go with him, he watched from a distance instead.
Tim really had fully recovered from the small seizure, soon returning with a bounty of chocolates and cookies and even a small plush that he tucked into his bag.
For Damian, Bruce realised fondly.
He reached out and ruffled Tim’s hair, loving the flush of embarrassment that rose up in his son’s face.
Tim sat down fully beside Bruce once more, turning on his Switch while Bruce returned to his book. There was loud laughter nearby as other stranded passengers spent some unexpected time with their loved ones too.
They’d been waiting nearly twelve hours when Tim had grown still once more, his eyes blank and staring even when Bruce smoothed the hair from his face.
It was just exhaustion, Bruce told himself, exhaustion and overstimulation both from the lights and the general activity of the airport.
Bruce shifted his hand, cupping Tim’s cheek before he pressed two fingers against the pulse point in his neck. It was slow but not dangerously so, all at once speeding up again as Tim’s awareness returned.
Tim sucked in a fast breath but Bruce soothed him before he could outright panic.
“I- I don’t- What were we talking about, I just-“
“Breathe, Tim,” Bruce said. “We weren’t talking, we were just… Sitting together.”
“Oh.”
It was small, Tim biting lightly at his lip.
“Do you know where you are right now?”
“LAX.” Tim said. “We… We’ve been grounded because of a storm. I’m… I’m good Bruce.”
“Can you squeeze my hands for me, then?”
“Bruce,”
“Humour me.”
Tim’s head dipped. He raised his trembling hands up but when he squeezed Bruce’s own, the pressure was strong and equal.
“Great job, Tim.”
“Don’t patronise me.”
Bruce hadn’t intended to, he was just glad that Tim was already doing a little better.
They resettled as much as they could, though Bruce found himself watching Tim in the corner of his eye just in case his son needed anything from him.
By the sixteenth hour, Bruce’s body was aching.
He went through some stretches, none of which should bring too much attention from the other resting traveler. None of which were quite enough to ease the all too familiar aches and pains of joints and old injuries, each vying for his attention.
It was different when he was on a stake out, the mission being enough to distract him, but sitting at this airport for so long with little to do except read and talk, his body was really starting to feel it.
Bruce shifted a little, focusing on his back until finally some relief came through.
Tim was still asleep on the little nest of jackets and travel pillows he had made for himself, his breathing deep and even.
Reaching out, Bruce hesitated before he actually touched Tim, not wanting to wake him accidentally. When he realised just how deeply asleep he was, Bruce smoothed the hair from his face. He was a little warm, but not dangerously so.
Bruce knew all too well of danger, of worry for his children, just like how he knew of Tim’s strength and resilience.
And oh how resilient Tim had needed to become, his own body at war with itself.
None of that mattered right now, what mattered was that Tim was sleeping and he was stable and he was going to be just fine.
“Are you fucking kidding me! It’s just some fucking rain, just fly through it!”
“Sir, as I’ve already-”
“I don’t give a single fuck, I’ve paid for my ticket and that means you need to take me there!”
“Sir,”
Bruce watched carefully from a distance but as soon as the man slammed his fist on the poor worker’s desk, Bruce was up and on his feet.
A thousand plans were already going through his mind about how best to de-escalate the situation without putting anyone at risk while also maintaining his identity as Bruce Wayne. It would not come to a fight, it couldn’t, but he couldn’t sit idly by either when the worker who had just been doing their best to deal with hundreds of stranded travellers for more than half a day already.
It would probably be best to go with his suave personality while playing up on his own tiredness too, that way he would be able to-
“Someone call 911!”
The situation had not gotten to that point, yes the traveler was angry and out of line but he did not yet pose a direct risk to the worker or to anyone else.
But that voice had echoed behind him, nowhere near the irate traveler, it had come from the direction of…
Bruce whirled, his gaze immediately locking onto Tim’s spasming body. He launched back towards his son, shoving passed a stranger to get to his son’s side.
“Wait,” The woman said. “Are you Bruce Wayne?”
“Don’t call 911,” Bruce snapped.
“But-”
Tim’s head snapped back, a wretched sound punched from his chest.
“Just the first aid team of the airport,” Bruce said. “It’s a known condition. Tim? Tim, I’m right here.”
There was already foam building at the corner of Tim’s mouth and Bruce eased him fully onto his side, keeping a pillow in place so that his head wouldn’t hit the ground.
The stranger at last ran off but there were dozens of eyes watching him, watching his boy as he seized.
Tim’s muscles had all but locked up, his eyes rolled back into his head as shudder after shudder forced its way through him. It was a bad one, his whole body moving unnaturally as his condition worsened.
Bruce smoothed the hair from Tim’s face, gliding his hand down until it pressed against Tim’s pulse.
“I’m here, Tim, I’ve got you Lad,”
Tim gave off another awful sound but Bruce soothed him through it as best he could. When a strong movement nearly tilted Tim onto his back, Bruce readjusted so that his knees kept Tim on his side instead.
The boy’s head tilted back, then again, then he was lurching ever more strongly but Bruce kept talking to him, kept checking and rechecking that he was still breathing as best he could, kept him on his side as wave after wave crashed into him.
He arched outright, his legs kicking out.
“Easy, easy, I have you, I’m right here,”
It was taking too long, every single second that passed by was an eternity that dragged on and on and Bruce should have never left him to begin with, he should have never allowed Tim to stay here from that very moment Tim had mentioned that he felt a little off, he should have never let his son out of his sight.
A jolt.
Another.
A smaller movement.
A sound, a forced gasp as his starved lungs begged for air.
Tim shifted again but it was far less forceful this time. He shifted again, trying to stir.
“Tim? Tim, can you open your eyes for me Sweetheart?”
When they had slipped fully closed, Bruce didn’t know but now he wanted nothing more than to see them, to see that spark that was always there.
“Tim, can you hear me?”
Tim’s eyes flicked beneath the lids. His head lolled and Bruce wiped the foam from his mouth. As Tim fought to return to him, Bruce shifted one of the jackets so that it covered his soiled pants.
“Tim?”
A soft sound, then another that twisted into a whine.
“I know, I know it hurts Love, just breathe for me.”
Tears rolled down Tim’s cheeks but Bruce wiped them away too.
Bruce placed a hand against Tim’s chest, realising that he still wasn’t breathing quite enough.
“Tim. You need to breathe for me Son. That’s it, that’s it, just like that.”
Tim whimpered, his eyes fluttering open. Almost immediately his head dipped, consciousness torn from him before he could fully regain it but Tim was already trying again.
There was movement behind Bruce and while instinct screamed for him to protect his boy, he realised that it was two first aid officers from the airport.
“Known epilepsy,” Bruce said. “He’s had a tonic clonic that lasted two and a half minutes, he hasn’t woken up fully yet, he had a few smaller episodes a few hours ago.”
“What’s his name?” One of the officers asked.
“Tim Drake.” Bruce said.
Wayne.
Tim Drake Wayne.
“Tim?” The officer said. “Tim, I’m just going to take your blood pressure, okay?”
As the officers started to assess Tim, assess him in a way that Bruce had already done, Bruce focused on running fingers through Tim’s hair.
Tim’s eyes fluttered once more but this time they managed to fully open, though he seemed unable to focus on any one thing.
“I’m right here, Tim,”
Tim hummed, blinking slowly. Then all at once he was surging upright but Bruce kept him down on the ground instead, keeping him from accidentally making himself pass out.
When Tim realised fully that there were two strangers at his side, with dozens more all vying for the best view even as security guards took up positions around them, he scrambled to sit up again but it was his own body that stopped him.
Tim lurched but he didn’t bring anything up.
“Easy, easy,” Bruce said.
“Bb…”
“It’s me, just take it slow, you’re safe.”
As safe as he could be in the middle of an airport on the other side of the country to home.
“Bruce? Bruce, I... Mm...”
Realising that Tim wasn’t going to allow himself to stay on the ground for even a moment longer, Bruce helped to ease him up until his back was leaning against Bruce’s chest.
Tim fumbled to get the blood pressure cuff off but the first aider guided his hand away, instructing him to squeeze their hands.
“Tim,” Bruce said. “Follow them, please.”
Tim twisted a little, burying his head into Bruce’s shoulder but he squeezed the officer’s hand all the same.
“Are you alright, Lad?”
“Bright…”
“I know,” Bruce said.
There was little Bruce could do about that though, unless he threw a batarang right at the offending lights. He was far more tempted by the idea than he probably should be.
One of the officer’s had shifted back a little more, apparently satisfied that Tim was out of immediate danger.
“We should move him to the medical room,” They said. “We’ll be able to turn the lights down there unless you would prefer to take him to the hospital.”
Tim’s head snapped up.
“No hospital.” He rushed out. “I’m fine, everything’s fine.”
“Tim,” Bruce said. “You’ve had several episodes today.”
“Hours apart.” Tim countered.
The fact that Tim was aware enough to remember as much told Bruce that he really was fully back with them again. Tim stilled then, tilting his head up towards Bruce.
“Wait,” He mumbled. “Several? I… I thought it was only one. No. No, I remember now, but I’m okay now.”
“Tim,”
“I’m okay.” Tim said firmly. “I am aware of what’s happened and I’m telling you no hospital. I don’t need to go to the first aid room, either."
But then Tim was stilling again, his breath catching as his hand fell into his lap.
Tim’s lip wobbled.
“There’s a shower at the medical room,” An officer said kindly.
Tim’s nod was small.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered.
“It’s not something you can control, Son,”
Tim’s only response was to curl a little more into Bruce’s chest and so Bruce just held him close.
“I can carry him,” Bruce said.
“Sorry, Sir, policy dictates that we use a wheelchair.”
“B, I don’t want-”
“Tim.”
Tim’s head dipped low, not in a full nod but in miserable acceptance all the same.
In truth, Bruce really would prefer to carry him, to keep him close, but he only lifted Tim up and off the ground carefully before setting him onto a waiting chair. It looked uncomfortable, one of the airport rentals and nothing like the wheelchair that Barbara used but it was what Tim needed right now.
Bruce brought the jacket with him, covering Tim’s lap once more.
“Thanks…” Tim mumbled.
He looked exhausted, barely keeping himself upright so Bruce leant forward and pressed a kiss to his temple.
There were still eyes watching them as the officers guided Bruce and Tim towards their station, whisperings of Bruce Wayne’s and of videos and of questions that none of the strangers had any right in asking.
Bruce would make certain to scrub the internet of any photos or videos of Tim’s compromised state but for now his sole focus was pushing the chair as smoothly and as quickly as he could without risking making Tim dizzy.
The airport clinic was small, a single bed tucked away to the side with cabinets and a sink with an even smaller bathroom with a shower.
Giving Tim every option they could, Tim decided that he wanted Bruce to be the one to supervise and stay near by just in case he had another seizure but thankfully none came and soon enough he was changed into the fresh clothes they’d kept in a carry on bag for this very reason.
Tim didn’t even argue when he was guided towards the bed, simply curling up onto it and falling asleep just as soon as he laid his head down.
Bruce consulted quietly with the officers, confirming multiple times that Tim’s care plan dictated that he didn’t yet need to go to the hospital even though the airport’s policies strongly advised it.
They’d been lucky, apparently, the only reason why the staff were on shift at all was because the storm had prevented them from finishing their shifts at the time they were supposed to.
He kept a close eye on his Son as he rested but as an hour passed into two into three, it was becoming clear that Tim was passed the worst of it.
Bruce reached out, intending on brushing the hair from Tim’s face only for Tim’s eyes to suddenly crack open.
“Sleep,”
Ever the contrarian, Tim sat up instead. Bruce’s hand had readied to catch him should he overbalance, but Tim was in full control of his body once more.
It only took Tim a moment to glance around his surroundings before he seemed to fully recall where he was and what had happened.
“Is it still storming?”
“It’s dying down,” Bruce said.
“So we might be able to fly soon?”
“Tim,”
Tim’s shoulders dipped.
“I know…” He mumbled. “I won’t be able to fly for a while.”
“It’s for your own safety.” Bruce said.
“Yeah yeah,” Tim said. “But what about my sanity? It’s too hot in Cali.”
Bruce chuckled. He reached out to ruffle Tim’s hair, glad to see that he really was okay, but he found himself cupping Tim’s cheek instead.
“You’re a little warm,”
“Because California was made by the devil.” Tim said.
“You know full well that’s not what I meant.”
Tim pulled away, crossing his arms.
“Lad,”
“Not everything’s about fevers, Bruce.” Tim said. “I only had the seizures because we’re traveling, we knew that was a risk to begin with.”
“Even so,” Bruce said. “I would like to monitor your temperature just in case. I’ve already called the hotel, there is a room fully available now for us to use. We’ll leave once I confirm with the staff here that you’re free to go.”
Tim rolled his eyes but he didn’t argue, which if anything made Bruce suspicious.
“Tim,”
“I’m just tired, okay? Tired and sore.”
“Would you like me to get an ice pack?”
Tim actually considered the offer for a long moment before he nodded.
Absolutely suspicious, then, so suspicious that Bruce made no move to stand and he instead just stared Tim down.
“What?” Tim grumbled.
“You’re being too agreeable.”
“Seriously? Would you rather me fight every step of the way? I know how this goes, B, and to be honest I really don’t feel like doing our little dance right now. I just want to get to the hotel and rest and… And I want to call my Mom. I don’t know why, I just…”
Tim pulled his legs up close to his chest.
“I miss her, for some reason.” Tim said. “Which is stupid.”
“It isn’t.” Bruce said.
“She’s been gone for months before,” Tim said. “I’ve been gone for a week. Still, I… I do want to call her, if that’s okay.”
“Of course.” Bruce said. “Would you like to do it now or at the hotel?”
Tim shrugged.
Bruce stood fully, leaving Tim’s own phone on the bed beside him. As he walked away towards one of the first aid officers, Bruce heard Tim’s quiet voice.
“Hey Mom, yeah, I’m okay. I guess Bruce told you what happened. Yeah, everything’s fine, we’re just going to have to stay in LA for a little longer.”
There was a small huff of a laugh and Bruce felt the tension in his soul ease just a little bit more.