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All nighters are doing Tim Drake no good.
Endless empty energy drink cans litter the area around the Batcomputer, and Tim knows that Alfred will lecture him if he finds out. Maybe even Bruce, too.
He can already hear them. “Master Timothy, I’d recommend you keep those energy drinks away from the multimillion dollar tech,” from Alfred, and something like, “I told you to stop drinking those, Tim,” from Bruce.
Just thinking about it makes his head throb.
Or… is his head already throbbing?
He’s so tired he doesn’t even know. The six energy drink cans that currently sit on the edge of the table—all different brands, flavors, anything to keep him awake—aren’t helping.
How long has he been awake? Twenty-four hours? Thirty-six? Forty-eight? Fifty-six?
Tim doesn’t actually know.
His ears are ringing and the images on the Batcomputer screen are doubling.
Wait, his ears are ringing? When did that start?
Tim tries to straighten. Maybe it’s his posture.
Bad idea.
The movement makes his temples throb.
Not the headache sort of throb.
This is the kind that feels like nails are being hammered into his temples.
He groans, head falling into his hands.
When did he get a migraine?
Tim hasn’t been in the Cave for that long. He hasn’t been!
Bruce or Alfred would have come down at least once by now to check on him. Maybe even Dick or Jason would have made their way down. Would Damian have? Even if he had, would he have even woken him up?
The thought of Damian coming down while Tim was working or slumped over makes Tim chuckle. It’s a bit higher pitched than normal. He can just picture it: Damian coming down to train or grab something, seeing Tim, and then just, “Tt. Drake needs to find better ways to spend his time.”
It isn’t funny.
It makes Tim giggle anyway.
It hurts his head.
He can’t seem to care.
Not now, anyway.
Seriously, it’s hilarious to Tim. How long has he been down here? He hasn’t been working on the case for long.
But also… When did he manage to drink six energy drinks? There’s two Red Bull cans. Tim doesn’t even like Red Bull! There’s also a Monster can, as well as three Celsius cans.
He doesn’t remember drinking any of those.
He sits up, just slightly, trying to form a thought.
His temples pound. His vision doubles again, and he can feel his stomach flip. Just slightly. There’s a ringing in his ears—loud, buzzing, harsh enough to make him groan.
Seriously, when had he gotten this migraine? And where was everyone? If he’s been down here for long enough to drink six energy drinks and still hasn’t been told to take a break or to stop drinking energy drinks, or to stop drinking said energy drinks by the Batcomputer, then he hasn’t been down here for long.
No way.
But, suddenly, the monitor light is too bright. The articles and case files that are displayed on the screen are blinding, feeling like a dagger to the eyes.
Holy shit, when did this start?
Why hasn’t anyone been down here?
Tim tries to take a breath, but it feels empty. Like he’s filling his lungs with nothing, but is still somehow living.
He reaches for his phone. It’s in the pocket of his sweats. He fumbles it in his hand for a good ten seconds before he finally manages to get his shaky fingers around the device.
He taps the screen. Once.
Twice.
It won’t light up.
What?
Then Tim tries for the power button.
The screen lights up, which he’s not prepared for.
Another groan, and he nearly drops the thing.
What the hell is wrong with him?
He swipes down from the top right corner and lowers the brightness all the way down. It hardly brings any relief.
Somewhere on his lockscreen reads, Do Not Disturb.
Tim doesn’t turn his phone on DND.
Or does he?
Why can’t he remember anything right now?
Just holding his head up and squinting against the bright light from the Batcomputer and his phone screen feels like too much effort. His head feels like it’s splitting. Tim swipes up on the screen, thumbing in his password with weak fingers.
He manages to open his eyes against the phone screen’s light again, and—
What the hell?
Seventeen missed calls.
Fifty-seven unread text messages.
He opens his messaging app.
Twelve messages from Alfred.
From Alfred? That man rarely uses the phone he has. And when he does, it’s usually for emergencies.
Eighteen messages from Bruce.
From Bruce? Eighteen.
Tim can rarely get more than a thumbs-up emoji from Bruce at times.
There’s a total of twenty-seven messages in the family group chat.
He can’t read any of them.
His vision is swimming—and he’s sitting down.
His stomach turns again as he tries to sit up.
Oh, god. Okay.
That… He’s closer to vomiting right now than he wants to admit.
He opens his call logs. All missed calls from his siblings. Even Damian.
Why is there so much fuss right now?
He can’t think about that.
He can’t think about anything, actually. Period.
He feels lightheaded.
His head feels like it’s splitting in two.
Why is it escalating so much?
He didn’t have this migraine five minutes ago, did he?
His ears are ringing again.
His vision is blurring.
He forces himself to dial Bruce’s number.
Wait, when did he open his phone?
When did the world get so bright?
When did he drink those energy drinks?
When did his temples start throbbing?
When did his ears start ringing?
When did he dial Bruce’s number?
What in the—
“Tim?”
That’s Bruce’s voice, Tim thinks faintly.
His own thoughts feel numbed.
“Tim, are you there?”
“Wha…?” Tim manages. “Batman?” he asks, voice barely a rasp.
“Yeah, it’s me Tim,” Bruce responds. His voice is… tense?
No.
Tim doesn’t know what Bruce’s voice sounds like. His entire head is spinning.
“When… When did I call you?” Tim says, his voice halfway choked.
“Tim, are you okay?” Bruce asks, his words now clipped. “We’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where are you?”
A small giggle leaves Tim’s mouth, but it makes Tim’s head feel more like it’s splitting open more than it had. The laughter cuts off with a groan.
“Tim, talk to me.” Bruce’s voice… shook? Why would Bruce’s voice shake? Why is he so worried anyway? Doesn’t he have camera feeds in the cave? Doesn’t he have trackers that can keep tabs on his wards and children?
“I’m…” Tim begins. Where is Tim? He glances up, and the blinding light from the giant screen in front of him makes him hiss. “I don’t… I’m… what did you ask?”
“Tim, are you okay?” the man on the phone sounds worried.
Who is Tim talking to?
He can’t read the name on the screen. Too blurry.
“Who…?” Tim’s voice is barely audible, even to himself.
“Tim, this is Bruce. I need you to tell me where you are.”
Straightforward.
Okay.
Where am I? Tim thinks to himself.
Cave.
He’s in a cave.
Oh.
Wait.
He’s in a cave.
Is he in the Cave?
“Uhh,” Tim says, his voice rasping and his tone sounding higher than cloud nine, “the Cave. I think.”
His vision blurs again. Blackens around the edges.
He can hear speaking from the phone, but he can’t tell what it’s saying.
Just… muffled dialogue.
Like the TV while you’re falling asleep.
Sleep?
When was the last time Tim slept?
He doesn’t know. He can’t think.
He swallows, his hands shaking. He can feel saliva flooding his mouth.
The phone falls from his hands and clatters on the floor.
He can feel sweat on his palms, and suddenly he can hear ringing in his ears again. Loud.
Loud, loud, loud.
Did he already make the connection that it’s loud?
He blinks.
Once.
The giant screen in front of him is far too bright.
Another groan.
Tim moves his hand to cover his eyes.
It’s too bright.
It’s too loud.
He can’t breathe.
There’s a metallic taste in his mouth.
The back of his throat burns.
His head feels like it has a tightening band around it.
His neck is radiating pain.
Since when?
When did…
How…
I don’t… he begins to think.
Then his vision blacks out.
And he doesn’t think anything at all.
***
Bruce can hear the phone clatter to the ground over the line.
“Tim?” His voice is tight. His heart is pounding.
He hasn’t been home in three days, all because of this unnecessary trip he needed to take to secure a deal for Wayne Enterprises—which is funny, because he isn’t in charge of any of this anyway.
Alfred also isn’t at the Manor.
He came with Bruce, because god knows what he would do without the older man.
But Tim.
Tim’s been at the Manor since they left.
He hasn’t answered his phone in over twenty-four hours.
And now, when he calls, he sounds out of it. Fully, completely, utterly out of it. He giggled. Tim doesn’t giggle. In all of the years that Bruce has known Tim, the only time he has even heard him giggle was when he got migraines, or when he was so tired that he couldn’t think straight.
That seems to be what’s happening now.
“Tim?” he says again, his voice louder, as if that will help anything. “God damn it. Tim! Are you there? I need you to respond.”
Three beats.
Still nothing.
Bruce’s grip on his steering wheel tightens.
Tim Drake doesn’t just ignore people.
All Bruce can hear over the call is the hum of the Batcave.
Okay. At least he got that information out of Tim.
Bruce hangs up.
Probably a bad idea, but Bruce is too out of his mind with worry to think about it.
He prompts the phone to call Dick.
He knows Dick will be at work right now.
That’s too damn bad.
The line rings once, and then Dick’s voice comes through the speaker.
“Bruce?” Dick says. “What’s going on? Have you heard anything from Tim?”
Bruce Wayne can feel his heart racing. Oh, my god. Is he scared? He shoves the thought away. That doesn’t matter.
“He called me,” Bruce tells him. “I don’t know what’s going on. All I got out of him was that he’s in the Cave. He doesn’t sound good. Then the phone—” His voice shakes. He clamps his jaw shut and takes a breath. “Then the phone fell to the ground. I didn’t get anything else out of him. He went unresponsive.”
Dick curses on the other end of the line. “The Cave? Why the hell hasn’t anybody checked down there?”
“I don’t know,” Bruce says, his voice clipped. “But he’s unresponsive, and no one has heard from him other than that damned phone call in hours. I need someone to get to the Manor.”
“I can’t—” Dick stops talking. “I’ll try to get out of work. The Blüdhaven PD is really short on people right now, I don’t know if I’ll be able to leave. You need to call everyone else.”
Dick sounds calm.
Why does Dick sound calm?
Tim—
Tim is unresponsive.
Bruce isn’t home.
Alfred isn’t home.
How the hell are they supposed—
Bruce takes another breath.
“I’m calling the others. Then I’m getting back to Gotham City as fast as I can.” “Okay,” Dick says. There’s a beat. One small beat. Then, “Just calm down, Bruce.”
Bruce hates it when his children are right.
Bruce hangs up. He grabs his phone and dials Jason’s number.
***
Jason is sitting in his apartment, doing absolutely nothing.
Well, he might be polishing his mask—but otherwise, he’s doing nothing.
That is, until his phone buzzes on the table.
He has every intention of ignoring it until the screen lights up, and he realizes it’s Bruce’s name.
That’s funny. Jason has never gotten a phone call from Bruce Wayne without a prior reminder message.
He picks it up and answers the call, putting the phone up to his ear. “Bruce?”
“When was the last time anyone checked the Cave?”
Bruce’s voice is tight, and Jason can hear undercurrents of just about every emotion available to the human body in his tone.
Immediately, Jason straightens, setting his mask down.
This is about Tim.
“You locked the Cave, Bruce.” Jason knows Bruce did.
No one has been in the Cave since before Bruce left—well, Steph had checked.
Once.
He had made it very clear he didn’t want any of the younger family members going on patrol without Bruce at least being there in case something went wrong.
There is silence on the line.
Five seconds.
“Bruce?” Jason prompts.
“I need someone to get to the Manor and check. Right now.” His voice is low.
“Why?” Jason asks.
“Because I just got a phone call from Tim, and he went unresponsive halfway through.”
Jason’s heart plummets.
What.
The.
Actual.
Fuck.
Why the hell hadn’t Bruce led with that?
Jason is immediately standing. He doesn’t remember caring this much five minutes ago. Tim always gets himself into situations where he doesn’t have contact for days.
But managing to get a hold of him and then—going unresponsive?
That worries Jason a whole lot more than he wants to admit.
“He said he’s in the Cave?” Jason asks.
“Get there.”
Bruce’s voice is low. Final. And utterly calm. And that tells Jason everything he needs to know.
He hangs up the phone.
***
Steph gets to the Manor first.
She got the call from Jason while she was relaxing in her apartment.
She got up immediately. If they knew where Tim was, she was going to drop everything.
She was just at the Manor earlier. There was no one in the Cave.
She slams the car door behind her, barely remembering to grab her phone.
She rushes into the Manor, immediately rushing to the grandfather clock. She puts the lock-override passcode in, and it slides to reveal an elevator.
She steps in quickly, slamming the finger into the button to close the door.
The ride down feels like an eternity.
According to what Jason said on the phone, Tim called Bruce, and then went unresponsive. Steph… Steph was here earlier. She would have seen him if he was at the Batcomputer. Would have heard him. Babs would have seen him on the cameras.
The elevator doors open, and Steph rushes into the cold cave.
Her heart is in her throat.
She needs to get to the Batcomputer.
She knows where it is. It’s easy. It’s huge.
Tim wasn’t here earlier. She swears it.
She approaches the Batcomputer and—
Her heart plummets.
No.
No, no.
If he—
He wasn’t—
Tim wasn’t here earlier.
Tim was not at the computer earlier.
But… he’s slumped over right now.
His phone is under the chair he’s in.
Tim’s head is flush against the surface of the desk.
And there’s vomit or bile or something leaking out of his mouth.
No.
No, Steph was—
She was here earlier.
Those energy drinks weren’t here earlier—
She swears it.
“Tim?” Her voice is clipped. Shaking.
She doesn’t remember moving her legs, but in what feels like a heartbeat, she’s at Tim’s side, her hand on his wrist.
She can see the whites of his eyes just barely.
She keeps her hand there for a second, trying to find a pulse.
“Oh, my god,” she whispers thickly, her breathing stuttering. She can’t find— There isn’t—
Then she can feel it.
There is a pulse. But, she should have seen him. Seen the mess earlier.
Why hadn’t she?
Tim Drake’s pulse is barely there.
Her own pulse is racing, breath coming in short, ragged bursts while Tim’s comes in soft, barely there huffs.
“Hold on, Tim,” she whispers, fumbling for her phone. “Please, hold on.”
All of this could have been avoided if she had just seen him when she was there earlier.
This is her fault, isn’t it?
***
By the time Dick is there with Duke and Damian, the others are all already at the hospital.
Hell, even Bruce is back, Alfred at his side.
Dick will never understand how Bruce manages to get where he needs to be within a matter of an hour.
The entire family, Babs included, are in a special waiting room, specifically for them. It sure does help when the family name is on the hospital sign.
“How is Drake?” Out of the three of them, Damian is the first to talk. That’s rare. Not to mention he actually sounds worried.
“We don’t know yet,” Jason responds back, voice clipped.
Dick scans the room.
Everyone is here.
Bruce, Alfie, Jason, Damian, Duke, Cass, Babs, Steph, and himself.
“What happened?” Duke asks. His voice is quiet. Worried. “Where did you all find him?”
“I found him in the Cave.”
Dick’s gaze snaps to Stephanie. Her head is bowed, blond hair hiding her face. Her hands are shaking where they’re clasped tight in her lap.
Cass shifts closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She’s steady. Silent.
“He wasn’t there earlier.” Stephanie’s voice cracks. “I swear he wasn’t.”
Dick walks over and crouches in front of her, voice soft. “Steph, hey, no one’s blaming you.”
“But I—” she stutters. “I should have seen him. Why didn’t I see him? If I’d just seen him—”
The words break off, swallowed by a sob. Cass’s other hand, which is lying over Stephs, tightens.
Dick looks at Bruce, who sits rigidly in the corner, jaw clenched. He’s unreadable.
Damian’s voice slices through the silence. “Father, why are you allowing the incompetent hospital staff to keep information from us?” Damian’s voice is tense, which tells Dick everything he needs to know about how Damian is feeling. “If they have updates on Drake, they should tell us.”
“They are telling us everything they know, Master Damian,” Alfred tells him.
“I do not believe that,” Damian mutters.
The room falls into silence, aside from the soft sound of Stephanie’s sobbing.
***
Cass holds Steph close.
She doesn’t do the physical stuff much.
But… Everyone is tense right now.
Bruce’s shoulders are set, his jaw clenched. He’s anxious. He’s upset. But not at Steph. At himself. She can see it in the way his hands are clasped together. Just a little too tight.
Damian’s fists are clenched at his sides, but his eyes are darting around, just barely, barely glossy. His breathing is slightly more rapid than normal. He is worried.
Alfred checks his wristwatch every few moments. He looks calm on the outside, but Cass can tell that he is stressed. He is more worried than he wants to admit.
Jason is sitting in a chair, scrolling his phone. He looks unusually relaxed, but she can tell in the set of his jaw and the way his right leg bounces just slightly up and down that Jason is on the verge of getting up for what he would claim as, “Fresh air.”
Duke is sitting. He’s looking around the room. He looks fine, but his hands are trembling.
Babs is in her wheelchair. She has her phone, but her grip on it is just a bit too tight.
Dick is no longer kneeling in front of Steph. He’s sitting next to Jason. He looks the most composed, which means that there is a storm of worry inside.
Steph’s shoulders are still shaking. Cass tightens her arms. Barely.
She hopes it’s enough. It’s been an hour and a half since they last heard anything. She’s keeping track.
The nurse that updated them was young. She had also been calm. Steady. She had told them that Tim was stable, but they were still running tests.
Steph sobs again, her face buried in Cass’s arms. She can feel a tear land on her wrist.
Cass wishes, silently, that she was a little less good at reading people.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Twenty.
Forty more pass.
Everyone is quiet.
Steph has stopped sobbing, and he’s leaning a bit heavier against Cass. Her breathing is deep and even. Cass wants to think she’s asleep, but the feeling of one tear after another tells her that her sister is still silently crying.
Cass doesn’t show that she knows.
She keeps her eyes on the door.
She doesn’t want to see what the others feel.
Not right now.
All she wants is for Tim to be okay.
She stares at the door, waiting for the moment it moves.
***
Babs is scrolling through her phone, keeping her eyes on the Manor’s security. She knows no one will ever surpass it, but she needs to distract herself somehow.
This is how she’ll do it. She glances up for a moment, taking everyone in. Steph looks like she’s asleep.
Good, Babs thinks to herself. She needs it.
Cass’s eyes are on the exit. Everyone else just looks tense.
The lights are starting to feel too bright, but Babs isn’t going to complain. This is a hospital. What else could you expect?
Her phone buzzes, silent in her hand. She looks down at the notification. It’s from Dad.
Dad: Is everything going all right?
Babs clicks the message.
Her: Still nothing too specific. Just waiting. Everything’s good, though.
He sends a thumbs up in response.
She shuts off her phone.
Damian is muttering under his breath.
Babs looks away.
***
He resorts to reciting the digits of Pi under his breath, audible to no one but himself.
Damian’s hands are clenched in his lap.
He’d rather do that than watch them shake.
He is not scared for Drake.
Drake will be fine.
Drake will be fine.
The smell of disinfectant is strong in this room.
He feels a bead of sweat begin to roll down his left temple. Damian is quick to wipe it away.
He is not nervous.
Damian Wayne does not get nervous.
Damian Wayne will never be nervous.
His breathing stutters. Just slightly. He bites the inside of his cheek.
Damian Wayne does not stress.
Damian Wayne does not worry.
Damian Wayne is always fine.
Damian Wayne is always strong.
But right now, all Damian wants to know is that Drake is okay.
Damian Wayne does not feel strong.
But Damian Wayne will not cry.
Not ever.
He glances at the door.
He hates that there is no movement.
***
Duke has one headphone in.
His music is almost all the way down, so he’s certain he’s the only one who can hear it.
He hates this silence. The only real sounds are the breathing of his family.
Which, of course, he prefers that over them not breathing, but— it’s just tense.
Really, really tense.
The music grounds him, at least.
He doesn’t like this feeling.
He means— it’s Tim. Tim is fine. Tim is always, some way or another, fine.
Bruce said that he sounded like he usually does when he has a migraine when Tim called him.
So, that’s all this is.
A migraine.
It just happened at an unfortunate time.
Duke glances at Steph.
She looks like she’s asleep, which he’s glad for.
If she’s asleep, she can’t blame herself.
Blüdhaven this week was fun, Duke thinks to himself.
Who is he kidding?
He knows it’s a sucky way to try and distract himself.
He turns up the volume of the music in his headphones one click. It’s just hip-hop music. R&B. Nothing crazy. He’s not paying attention to lyrics, anyway.
He leans his head back, looking at the too-bright lights overhead. He shuts his eyes, but just a second later—
The sound of a door opening.
Next to him, Dick takes in a sharp breath.
Immediately he straightened again.
The entire family is focused in a moment.
***
Back in my day, Alfred thinks, they made a bit more of an effort to notify families of updates.
He says nothing out loud.
“I’m so sorry about that wait,” the nurse says. Her accent sounds southern. Much closer to a Kentucky accent than a New Jersey one. “We’ve got the results back. Timothy is stable. He’s got what we call a hemiplegic migraine. He’s going to be perfectly fine, but he is going to need some solid recovery time. This type of thing usually starts young—does Tim have a history of migraines?”
Bruce, who Alfred assumes had stood in one of the few moments when he wasn’t paying full attention, nods. “He does.”
“And are we sure of what usually triggers them?” the nurse asks again. Her auburn hair is up in a bun. Not important, but Alfred notes it anyway.
“He’s an insomniac,” Jason mutters, running a hand through his hair.
Bruce nods in agreement. He looks utterly exhausted. All of them do.
“Tim has a tendency to skip out on sleeping,” Bruce tells her.
The nurse nods. “He also had a high level of caffeine in his body. Is that a normal thing?”
Alfred is the one to nod this time. “He does have the tendency to intake large amounts of caffeine, against our better judgement.”
The nurse nods again. “Alrighty,” she says. “Well, Mr. Wayne, if you’d like, we can get some prescription medications set up for Tim, just to take for the next few days after he returns home. Is that something you’d like to do?”
“Yes.” That came from the entire family.
At least they know how to take care of one another, Alfred thinks to himself.
***
Tim wakes up groggy.
His head hurts.
The lights in the room are bright—really bright.
Where am I? He thinks to himself.
He looks around.
It takes him a moment to realize.
Oh.
He’s in a hospital bed.
The sheets beneath him aren’t comfortable.
He glances over to the side.
Bruce is sitting there.
“When did I get here?” Tim rasps.
Bruce’s head snaps up.
“Tim. You’re awake.”
Tim shuts his eyes for a moment, humming in response.
“Don’t know if I want to be,” he admits.
“You’ve just got a migraine,” Bruce tells him.
“Where’s everyone else?” Tim asks. “How long have I been here?”
“The others are in the waiting room. You’ve been here for around three hours.”
Straightforward.
Tim doesn’t really remember what happened.
When Tim tells Bruce, he just nods. “That’s understandable. You blacked out.”
Tim manages to raise an eyebrow. “I did?”
Bruce nods again. “The others are worried sick. You weren’t in a good state when Steph found you.”
“Where was I?” Tim asks. “When did you get back from Star City?”
“You were in the Batcave. I got back earlier today.”
“And you came back because of me?”
Bruce shrugs. “You, and because I was tired of that city anyway.”
Tim manages a smile.
It—surprisingly—doesn’t hurt.
“When can we leave?”
“They just have to come check a few things. Then we’ll be free to leave.”
That seems like a solid plan.
***
The moment Steph sees Tim, she’s so relieved to see him walking.
Tears immediately fill her eyes.
She wraps her arms around him. “You scared the living hell out of me,” she whispers. “You’re not allowed to do that again.”
After a moment, she pulls away.
His eyes scan her face.
“Sounds smart.”
The family leaves after a few minutes. They all make a plan to meet back at the Manor.
This entire situation is Steph’s fault.
She knows it.
But she can worry about blaming herself later. All she cares about is the fact that her brother is safe.
Thank the bat gods.