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“I miss you so so much
take what you want
take what you want from me
took you for granted”
“I can’t believe it, you’re unbelievable.”
Tim was fed up with the brat. It seemed like everything had gotten worse since Damian arrived at the mansion. Tim tried to be patient when Bruce asked him to connect with the boy, but it was impossible. No amount of patience is enough to deal with an arrogant brat such as Damian.
Tim had been in charge of today’s patrol, they were going to contact an important informant about a case that Tim had been working on. Everything was going well…until the brat decided to interfere and act on his own. Of course, Damian always had to act alone, he didn’t know how to trust anyone. He certainly didn’t trust Tim.
“You would have ruined everything. Besides, I’m sure my approach works better,” said Damian.
“Your approach works better? You ruined everything! Because of you, a key informant in this case will no longer cooperate. Do you know how long it took to get in touch with him? The world doesn’t revolve around you, Damian.” Tim was furious, this little shit was going to hear what he had to say.
"Tt, I'm not to blame for your incompetence, Drake."
“You know what? Everything was much better in my life before you showed up,” Tim said dryly. He would never forgive Dick for giving the Robin mantle to Damian or for never seeing him as the brother he saw in this insolent little boy. Damian definitely didn't deserve all the attention he received from this family. “You're nothing but a spoiled brat, you should have stayed with your mother since you think you're so much better than all of us.”
This seemed to have sparked some kind of fury in the boy, who until now had been maintaining his calm, cold, and let's face it, unbearable personality.
“Leave my mother out of this!” he yelled, fists clenched. “I didn't come here to please you. I do what I want, and my only duty is to report to father, not to you, Drake.”
Tim was angrier than ever. Maybe he should have measured his words, but the anger he felt at the moment wouldn't allow him to do so. He wanted the brat to disappear. In fact, he would have preferred that the boy had never shown his insufferable little face in the first place.
He takes a deep breath before speaking, perhaps with the most measured voice he had ever used in his life.
"I wish you would…disappear. That I would never have to deal with you again."
Damian doesn't answer, but from the expression on his face, Tim knows his words affected him somehow.
Good.
The last thing Tim hears before looking up is Damian running upstairs.
— — —
The next day, Tim woke up in a bad mood and went downstairs for a well-deserved cup of coffee. Bruce would probably leave for WE soon and Tim was supposed to tag along. He needed his coffee first though, ok?
When he got to the kitchen, Bruce was sitting in his usual spot. He was reading the newspaper and had a cup of tea on the table. Tim noticed that the brat hadn't gotten up yet…strange.
“Bruce,” he greeted before sitting down at the table.
Bruce replied, “Good morning, Tim.”
Alfred entered the kitchen and placed a plate of scrambled eggs on the table. He took the opportunity to greet Tim casually.
Tim already had his black coffee in hand, which was a relief. Something was strange about his morning, though. Damian hadn't gotten up yet. Not that he wanted to see the brat, but it was odd that he wasn't at the table yet. Damian was never late, never.
So, reluctantly, he decided to ask, “Where's Damian? Hasn't he gotten up yet?”. Tim knew that everybody in the house heard their shouting match last night, but no one had mentioned anything about it so far. He wanted to keep it that way.
Bruce replies without taking his eyes off the newspaper, “He should already be here. I’ll ask Alfred to go get him so he’s not late for school.”
Tim agrees, nodding awkwardly.
He goes back to drinking his coffee.
Approximately 10 minutes pass until Alfred returns from Damian's room, breathless.
Something is wrong.
“Master Bruce, I think you should come with me to Damian's room.”
Bruce finally stops reading his newspaper and looks up at Alfred, alarmed.
“Alfred, is something wrong? Where is Damian?”
“You'd better see for yourself,” he states, a haunted look on his face.
Bruce doesn't think twice before getting up. In seconds he leaves the kitchen towards his youngest son's room.
Tim is unnerved. What could have happened for Alfred to act like this? He is not the type to get nervous so easily. Without thinking much, he gets up and follows the two men. When he arrives at Damian's room, he finds Bruce sitting on the edge of the bed, Alfred standing beside him.
“I found him like this,” said Alfred. “I called his name, shook him, but nothing wakes him up.”
Bruce is restless, a look of worry on his face. "Damian," he called again and again. The boy didn't answer. Damian's eyes were closed, a serene expression on his face, but he showed no sign of consciousness.
Bruce was shaking him more intensely now, bordering on desperation. His voice was trembling.
“Damian!” he said, almost shouting. “Damian, wake up!”
Tim felt his hands trembling. What could have happened to the brat? He was fine yesterday. Tim was certain he hadn't been hurt, he had made sure of that. Could the boy have been hurt and no one had noticed? Impossible. Bruce always checked on all of them after patrols, and he had seen Bruce check on Damian.
In any case, the scene in front of him looked like something out of a horror movie. Maybe Damian was trying to play a trick on them. Surely, he would wake up any minute, laugh in their faces, and say that this was all just a prank. It wasn’t like Damian to do something like that, but maybe he was trying to hit Him back for what he said, to teach him a lesson or some stupid shit.
“His breathing and blood pressure are normal, I already checked,” said Alfred. “We have to call for medical help, Master Bruce.”
Bruce seemed completely distraught, holding his son’s small frame in his arms. “He was fine…what happened? How is this possible?” His voice was small, Tim almost didn’t pick it up.
Bruce puts the back of his hand on his son’s forehead, visibly shaking.
“You need to focus here, sir. I know it’s difficult, but we need to help our boy.” Alfred always took a leadership role in situations like this, but Tim thought that even he looked scared.
Tim, who had remained silent until that moment finally shouted: “Damian, stop it. Get up, this isn’t funny”.
It seems Bruce finally notices Tim’s presence and that puts him into motion. He gets up, takes his phone out of his pocket and dials a number.
Tim doesn’t know who he’s calling, he’s probably calling an ambulance. All he can hear is static. As if hearing everything underwater.
He only wished this wasn’t real.
— — —
Bruce ends up calling an ambulance.
Tim stands there looking at the pale little boy on the bed until the paramedics arrive to take him away. God, Dick and Jason don't know about what's going on, someone needs to contact them. Tim watches as the paramedics put Damian on a stretcher and start dragging him to the ambulance.
Bruce is devastated. Tim will need to stay by his side and take a decisive stance. But how could he? It's his fault that Damian is like this, isn't it? Even if he tries to silence the voices in his head, he knows that's the truth. He wished the boy would disappear, that he wasn't here anymore…and what if the universe or whatever forces listening out there were now granting him his wish? He caused this.
It was almost as if he had wished Damian would die. Just thinking about it sends a chill down his spine. No. That sounds completely wrong. Even though they fight and Tim harbors resentment toward the brat, he would never wish for his death. He would die before allowing Damian to get hurt.
“Master Tim,” he is brought back to the present by Alfred’s voice, “Let’s get in the car and follow your brother to the hospital.”
Brother. He never recognized Damian in that way, and he was sure the boy didn't see him that way either. Maybe it was different with Dick, but Tim had always been a stranger to Damian. In any case, Tim needed to control his trembling hands and make his legs move to get to the car.
Thus, Alfred and Tim drove to the hospital while Bruce accompanied Damian in the ambulance.
The accusing voices never ceased to be present in Tim's head.
You did this.
— — —
How could a child go to sleep and not wake up again? That was the only thing going through Tim's head as he waited for news about Damian in the Gotham Hospital waiting room.
Jason and Dick had already arrived and were with Bruce, trying to comfort him. Tim didn't have the courage to do the same, knowing about the argument they had yesterday. He was afraid his family could hear his thoughts just by getting close to him.
Two hours had passed since Damian was taken beyond those white doors, into this cold and, in a way, morbid environment. People waited for news of their families around him; Tim wondered if any of them had wished for their fake brother to disappear.
A man in a lab coat approaches them; he must be Damian's doctor.
“Mr. Wayne?” the man says, his posture serious but empathetic at the same time. “I have information about your son. Would you like to speak with me in a more private setting?”
Jason apparently doesn't like this. “Whatever you have to say, say it now,” he says, clenching his fists. Everyone is nervous about the situation, and this only seems to bring out the worst in their personalities.
Bruce defuses the situation, saying, “It’s ok, Dr. Stuart. You can say whatever you need to say.”
The doctor then replies, “Right. We conducted a CT scan to investigate if there are any signs of head trauma or any other type of brain injury in Damian. The good news is that there’s nothing like that. The bad news is that we can’t identify why he’s not waking up.”
It’s me. I wished for that.
Bruce seems utterly confused, as they all are. “But then…what could have happened? How can a child fall asleep and never wake up again?” Bruce asks, completely inconsolable. Dick, who’s also devastated, puts his hand on Bruce’s shoulder trying to offer some comfort.
Dr. Stuart replies gently: “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. There are a few possible causes. The first and most common has been ruled out, which would be a brain injury caused by a strong blow to the head. Other possible causes would be a seizure, which may have occurred without anyone noticing, since he was sleeping. Damian may also have had a very high fever, which could have caused the seizure, although his temperature is normal at the moment…”
“What can we do now? He’s going to wake up…isn’t he?” Dick interrupts the doctor before he can finish what he was saying.
Dr. Stuart replies quickly and assertively, “I can’t give you any certainty, especially without knowing the cause of the coma. It’s an unusual case, but we’re doing everything possible to keep him stable, and we hope he’ll wake up soon.”
Bruce puts his hands over his eyes, seemingly unsure of what to say.
Alfred steps forward for him. “Thank you, Dr. Stuart.”
The doctor nods and leaves.
Alfred continues: “It’s alright, he’ll be fine. Damian is stronger than all of us.”
Looking around, Tim realizes his family doesn’t seem to fully believe what they’ve been told. They are confused and hopeless. Everyone is scared.
Tim wishes he could go back in time and not have had that stupid fight. If this is a nightmare, he just wants to wake up.
— — —
It's been almost two months since Damian was discharged from the hospital.
Two months since Tim's brother went to sleep and didn't wake up. Everything has been chaotic. Bruce remains inconsolable, despite trying to maintain a firm and unwavering posture; everyone knows he's suffering. Although Alfred is trying to take charge of the situation, it's obvious he's grieving too. Dick has been trying to be more present to help Bruce and Alfred, but if there's anyone who has a soft spot for the brat, it's Dick. He's suffering as much as the others. Jason has kept a certain distance, sending messages to check on everyone occasionally. Even he, who is more reserved, seems lost in the face of everything that's happening.
Damian was brought home after being discharged from the hospital. The doctors didn't know what else to do, and being in the hospital was pointless. He's in his room connected to machines that monitor his vital signs. Bruce hired a team of doctors and nurses to look after him.
When Tim looks at him, lying in bed day and night, he can't believe it. It's strange and frightening how things can change so quickly.
Thoughts of guilt and disappointment haunt Tim constantly. From the moment he wakes up until the moment he lies down to sleep. IF he could sleep, which hasn't been happening lately. All of Tim's nightmares are about Damian never waking up again, and all his dreams are about Damian finally waking up, always saying something stupid, but he's awake.
Today at breakfast he's trying to stay sane in a rare moment when Bruce is also present.
“Tim, how are you? I know I haven't had time to talk these past few days,” Bruce asks him.
“Normal, I don't know…”
“You know, Tim… I think it would be good for you to go to his room. I couldn't help but notice that you haven't been there since Damian was discharged,” Bruce says, looking at him intently.
Tim decides to be honest at this very moment, even though it hurts to do so.
“I don’t know if I could. You know we fought before all this happened,” Tim replies, his voice completely choked with emotion. “Bruce…I think I caused this. I wished he would disappear. It’s my fault, you get it? I did this.”
Tim is consumed by guilt. He doesn’t expect Bruce to understand, but he needs to share this…even if it means Bruce hates him as much as he hates himself.
Bruce sighs deeply before speaking. “Tim, it’s not your fault.”
Tim looks at him as if Bruce has grown a second head. How can he say that?
“But I said horrible things, didn’t you hear me? I wished your son would disappear and he just never woke up again!” Tim replies, exasperated.
“We all make mistakes and say horrible things at some point in our lives. I don’t think you caused what happened to Damian. I think what happened would have happened anyway. You seem remorseful. Why don’t you go to him and tell him that? It will take a weight off your shoulders. You need to forgive yourself, Tim. I know Damian would have forgiven you.”
Tim is crying now. He doesn’t know what to think anymore.
“Do you think it’s worth talking? I don’t know if he can hear me…” he sniffes.
“I do think he can hear us. I think it’s worth the try. Talk to him,” Bruce replies softly.
Tim doesn’t know what he did to deserve so much compassion. He gets up and walks to the other side of the table, pulling Bruce into a hug.
He cries, sobbing, in the arms of the man who embraced him as only a father would.
— — —
Okay. He can do it.
Tim enters Damian's room. It's strange to see the boy like this, connected to machines, motionless, sleeping forever.
Tim approaches and sits in an armchair next to the bed, normally occupied by Bruce who spends hours reading to him and even taking care of mundane things, like Damian's personal hygiene. He can't bathe in the usual way, but they manage to clean him with wet cloths.
Tim knows what he wants to say, but he lacks the courage to say it out loud.
“I kind of don’t know how to do this,” Tim feels a certain relief at being able to express something. “Damian, if you can hear me, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I didn’t really mean any of those things. I didn’t want you to disappear.”
Damian obviously doesn’t respond. His form is still and serene, lying on the bed.
“I know we didn’t have the best start, with you trying to kill me and all,” Tim continues, “but I think we’ve left all that behind now.”
Tim extends one of his hands and intertwines his fingers with Damian’s, closing his eyes.
“I just need you to wake up, please, if you can hear me, wake up.”
He opens one eye and looks at his brother, as if a simple request would bring Damian back to the light.
Nothing happens.
“It’s okay. When you’re ready, we’ll be here waiting for you. All of us.” Tim gets up, defeated, he gently places Damian’s hand in the bed.
It's a shame he didn't stay long enough to see Damian's fingers suddenly moving.
— — —
The next day, Tim is back in Damian's room. He's decided it wouldn't hurt to take after Bruce's habit and read a little to the boy.
Again, he holds one of Damian's hands.
“He'd never had a child's joy. He'd become a man before the age of ten to fight for the most miserable of lives: the life of an abandoned child. He'd never been able to love anyone, except this dog that follows him. When the hearts of other children are still pure of feeling, the one without legs is already full of hatred.” He quoted, he was reading Captains of the Sands, a Brazilian classic that Jason had recommended to him some time ago. It was very good.
He could swear he'd felt the boy's fingers move a few times while reading. Perhaps it was the force of his thoughts wanting it to happen.
“He hated the city, life, men. He loved only his hatred, a feeling that made him strong and courageous despite his physical defect,” Tim continued. Thinking that was enough for today, he closed the book and picked up his phone to check if he'd received any important messages.
“Hmmm, more…”
Tim felt a chill run down his spine.
What the hell???
Suddenly, the room seems much quieter than before. It can't be. He's hallucinating…Damian?
“Hmm, more…Drake. Continue.”
Damian!
Tim drops his phone on the floor. He immediately looks at the boy.
“Damian?” he says, his heart pounding with emotion.
“Yes?” Damian replies, as if he hadn't just woken up from a two-month coma.
“Damian! You're awake!” Tim can't believe it.
“Stop repeating the same thing, Drake.”
Tim laughs and, unable to contain his emotion any longer, he takes the boy in his arms.
“Let go of me, what’s your problem?” Damian says, making some effort to get out of Tim’s arms, but he still seems weak, unable to break free.
“Damian, you were unconscious for two months, let me have this, okay? You can yell at me as much as you want later.”
“Was it that bad?” Oh, so the brat knows what happened.
“You have no idea,” Tim replies.
They just look at each other in the silence of an ordinary morning, but for Tim this was no ordinary moment. He would never forget this day for the rest of his life.
— — —
Everyone had been in Damian's room. Everyone had already visited him. Tears were shed, words spoken, sobs, among…other things. The brat pretended to hate it, but Tim could see he wasn’t really fighting any of it.
When Bruce learned that Damian had woken up, he ran to his youngest son's room, taking him in his arms. Bruce wasn't the most affectionate person, Tim knew that, but even he couldn't help but get overjoyed by having Damian back after the hell they had been through.
"Damian, you're here," Bruce said, whispering, in a rare moment when he didn't care that other people were seeing him with tears in his eyes.
"Yes, Father. Looks like you won't get rid of me so easily," the brat replied, still having some difficulty speaking.
The doctors couldn't explain what happened, but Tim couldn't help believing that Damian had returned because he desperately wanted it, just as he had caused the coma; he believed the universe had returned his little brother to him safe and sound.
Now Damian was sitting on the bed, leaning against the pillows.
“You know, I heard everything you said.”
Tim lifted his head, which had been lowered as he looked at his phone, and replied “Really? Every time we read to you?”
“Not only that…”
Tim knew what he was talking about, clearly.
“So you know I really didn't mean what I said that day,” he needed Damian to understand that.
“I didn’t mean any of that either, Drake,” Damian clarified.
“I know,” Tim said, looking intently at the boy. “How about we just forget about it? It’s almost your bedtime.”
Damian rolled his eyes before retorting, “I’m not going to sleep now, I’ve already slept too much, don’t you think?”
“Don’t even joke about that, brat.”
This kind of terrified Tim, but he had confirmed more than three times with the doctors and with Bruce that it was safe for Damian to sleep. Better be safe than sorry.
“Okay…” Damian said, “but, only if you keep reading that book to me.”
“You really liked it, huh?” Tim said, with a slight smile at the corner of his mouth. He could see a small smile on Damian’s face as well.
Tim picked up the book and resumed reading, filling the room with the sound of his words, comforting and being comforted by Damian’s presence, whom he had come to see as his little brother.