Chapter Text
“Winner: Nightwing.”
Tim groaned as he pushed himself up. Dick had been kicking his ass for the past half hour. He’d lost count of how many times the computer had announced his failure. And sure, he didn’t win against Dick often, but he was usually a hell of a lot better than this.
“You’re off your game today, Timmers,” his big brother observed, confirming his inner thoughts. He offered his hand. “You feeling okay?”
Tim allowed himself to be pulled back to his feet. He was breathing embarrassingly hard. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
Dick narrowed his eyes. “You look pale. Maybe we should call it a day.”
“I’m just getting over something,” Tim waved off, wiping his sweat-soaked face with a towel. It wasn’t a complete lie, at least. Because of his lack of spleen, it felt like he was always getting over something. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t tired. “I promise, I’m good. Let’s go another round.”
His brother looked unconvinced. “Tim, are you sure? We can do something else—”
“Dick, I’m fine. Just one more round. Please? We hardly ever get to hang out and spar like this.”
Which was very true. With five siblings, it was rare that Tim got the eldest Wayne to himself. But with Damian at the Kent farm for the weekend, Duke hanging out at Jason’s, and Cass upstairs with Bruce, Tim had Dick’s undivided attention. He wasn’t about to waste it over something as dumb as a cold.
After a moment of internal deliberation, Dick gave in. “Alright, if you say so. One more round.”
And so they went.
Thirty seconds in, Tim was already regretting all of his life choices. He was wiped. Whatever bug had gotten him this time had really taken a toll on his endurance. He could feel his heart beating rapidly trying to keep up, yet his body lagged behind, leaving him slow and sloppy. None of his blows came even close to landing.
It didn’t take long for the original Robin to notice.
“Okay, I think we’d better stop,” Dick announced, dropping his fists.
“I’m… fine,” Tim insisted, though he was beginning to think that may not be the case. His hands dropped to his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “Just…need a minute.”
His brother’s expression was now worried. “Hey, let’s get you to the bench. You look like you’re about to faint.”
The bench. The bench sounded nice. But as soon as Tim attempted to take a step, his knees buckled beneath him. His vision was fading in and out of focus at a frightening speed.
“D-Dick—”
“Whoa, easy there!” Dick exclaimed, moving to catch him. Even though he was right there, his brother’s voice sounded really far away.
That couldn’t be good.
Suddenly, something felt wrong inside his chest. Tim’s heart had been racing just moments ago, but now it just felt… off. Like, fluttery? Yeah, fluttery seemed accurate. He should probably tell…
Everything went dark.
“Whoa, easy there!”
Dick was mentally kicking himself as he grabbed Tim, preventing his brother from hitting the floor. He never should have agreed to that last round. The poor kid was clearly exhausted, and now, they’d overdone it. Alfred was not going to be pleased.
Then, out of nowhere, Tim sagged bonelessly in his arms. Dick’s blood turned to ice as he carefully settled his brother down onto his back. His eyes were closed, and his face was completely slack.
“Tim, can you hear me?” Dick called, shaking his shoulder gently. There was no response. He reached up and pressed his fingers against Tim’s neck.
There was no pulse.
“Fuck!” Dick gasped. “Computer, send out a Code Blue alert!”
He started CPR.
As both a cop and a vigilante, Dick had done more than his fair share of chest compressions. But he never got used to the feeling of someone’s ribs creaking under the immense strain. He’d certainly never wanted to feel his own brother’s chest beneath his hands.
“Remember, Chum, broken ribs can heal. Dead bodies cannot,” Bruce’s voice echoed in his brain. He’d been the one to first teach Dick CPR at the ripe old age of nine.
“What happened?”
Speak of the Devil.
Bruce came sprinting into the training room followed closely by Cass. He dropped to his knees in front of his two sons, the color draining from his face as he took in the scene.
Dick gave Tim two rescue breaths before allowing Cass to take over so he could talk. “I-I don’t know what happened exactly. One minute we were sparring, and the next he just collapsed. I thought he’d fainted from overexertion, but then he didn’t have a pulse.”
The Dark Knight’s grimace deepened. “Did he take any blows to the head or chest?”
Dick shook his head. “Nothing like that. He just seemed tired is all. But he said he was getting over a bug, so I figured that was it.”
“Okay, I’m going to call 911,” Bruce announced grimly, reaching for his phone. “Alfred is on his way with the AED. You and Cass stay here and continue CPR.”
Alfred hurried in not a minute later. Dick watched on in nauseating dread as the butler cut open Tim’s t-shirt and placed the AED pads on his chest. Cass temporarily paused her compressions to allow the machine to analyze Tim’s heart.
“Shock advised.”
“Charging,” Alfred announced. His voice was calm as ever, but Dick could recognize the distress in his eyes.
When the machine ordered them to clear, they all held their hands up.
Tim’s body flinched as the defibrillator sent a jolt of electricity into his chest. But then, he stilled.
“Shock delivered.”
“Resume CPR,” Alfred instructed.
“Cass, focus on rescue breaths. I can take over compressions,” Dick offered.
His sister nodded and moved to Tim’s head. She wiped his damp bangs out of his face and started whispering pleas and encouragements as tears poured down her cheeks.
“Yes, ma'am. My other son and daughter are performing CPR,” Dick heard Bruce in the distance, though it was muffled by the sound of his own racing heart. “The AED just delivered a shock.”
It occurred to Dick that they were going to have to get Tim upstairs at some point in the near future. They couldn’t exactly bring EMS into the Batcave to get him. But as far as Dick was concerned, that wasn’t the current priority. His only focus was his next compression.
After another two grueling minutes of CPR, the AED called for another rhythm check.
“Shock advised.”
Dick was quick to restart compressions while the defibrillator charged up once again. He kept telling himself it was a good sign. If the rhythm was shockable, that meant there was still a chance. He was willing to keep on for as long as it took.
“Stand clear.”
Alfred pressed the button, sending a second shock into Tim’s chest.
Dick delivered another thirty compressions. He was thankful for the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It helped keep him going even as sweat poured down his face. When he hit thirty, Cass moved to deliver two more rescue breaths.
But then she froze.
“Wait…I think his chest just moved,” she breathed, quickly pressing her fingers to her brother’s carotid artery. “He has a pulse!”
Dick mirrored his sister’s movements on the other side. He felt it—it was very faint and thready, but it was definitely there. His brother’s chest rose slowly as he took another shallow breath, further confirming the wonderful news:
Tim was alive.
Relief hit Dick so hard he felt dizzy. His little brother was alive. He was alive and they were going to get him help and everything was going to be okay. Nothing else mattered as long as he didn’t lose another sibling.
“I suppose we had better transfer him upstairs before the ambulance arrives,” Alfred suggested quietly. In the background, they could hear Bruce updating the 911 dispatcher.
Dick’s heart dropped into his stomach. He was very nervous to transport Tim so soon after they got him back. What if moving him caused him to regress back into cardiac arrest? But again, it wasn’t like they had much of a choice.
“Ambulance is less than five minutes away,” Bruce informed them, covering the phone’s speaker with his hand. “I’m going to go open the gate and lead the medics to the gym.”
That was Bruce’s way of telling them where to go. Because that’s where normal, non-vigilante brothers would be “working out” together.
Thank God they hadn’t been sparring in their suits.
Dick ended up carrying Tim upstairs. A stretcher would’ve been more ideal, but time was running short. Cass and Alfred were right behind him with the AED. The pads were stuck onto Tim’s chest.
Once they made it to the home gym, Dick gently laid Tim on the ground and rechecked his pulse and breathing. Thankfully, his carotid pulse was even stronger now, though his breathing remained a bit too shallow for comfort. His brother did moan a bit, though, which Dick took as a good sign. Hopefully, that meant he was starting to regain consciousness.
Bruce arrived with two paramedics a couple minutes later. They knelt by Tim and immediately got to work. They hooked him up to a heart monitor, checked his blood sugar, and applied an oxygen mask over his face.
“Rhythm’s sinus tachycardia with a couple of PVCs and a rate of 132,” one of them announced. “Blood sugar is 89. Bp’s a bit soft at 94/52. Tim, can you hear me?”
Tim’s eyes fluttered open before closing once again. It was very brief, but it made Dick able to breathe easier.
The other medic looked at him. “My name’s David, and this is my partner, Trevor. Your dad was telling us the story as we came in, but I’d like to hear it from you.”
Dick nodded. “Of course. We’d been working out for about half an hour when it happened. He did seem more tired than usual beforehand, but he told me it was because he’d recently had a bug and was still getting over it. I suggested we stop for the day, but he wanted to keep going a little longer. Then, all of a sudden, he went down. It happened so fast. I caught him before he hit the ground, so he didn’t hit his head or anything, but he was pulseless when I checked on him. I started CPR immediately and called for help.”
“So he wasn’t down long before you started CPR?” David checked.
“Not at all,” Dick confirmed. “Ten to fifteen seconds max.”
“And how long was he without a pulse?”
“Maybe five minutes? He came back one round after the second shock.”
“That’s very good,” Trevor assured. “I’m going to start an IV, and then we’ll be ready to transport him. Dad, since he’s a minor, you can ride in the ambulance with us if you’d like.”
Bruce nodded fervently. “Absolutely. Thank you.”
When the paramedic slid the needle into the crook of Tim’s elbow, the boy whined and scrunched his eyebrows. He tried to pull away his hand, but Trevor had a firm grip.
“Tim, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Bruce asked.
Tim’s eyes opened again with a soft groan, this time flickering towards his father.
“You’re doing great, Tim,” David praised. “We’re going to get you onto the stretcher now. Just hang tight and try to stay with us.”
They got him loaded up pretty quickly after that. Once Tim was in the back of the ambulance, Dick and Cass jumped into one of the Waynes’ more low profile SUVs with Alfred taking the driver’s seat.
Then, they followed the lights and sirens.
Upon arrival to Gotham City Children’s Hospital, the paramedics wheeled Tim’s stretcher into the trauma bay. From there, nurses and doctors and various other medical personnel swarmed the bed while the medics gave report.
“We’ve got a seventeen-year-old male with no allergies and no known cardiac history. He is post-arrest after a witnessed collapse during exercise. His brother immediately started CPR, and ROSC was obtained after two shocks with an AED prior to EMS arrival. Patient has sustained a rhythm of sinus tachycardia with occasional PVCs during transport and is on fifteen-liters via non-rebreather. He’s got an 18g in his right AC and has received 500ml of normal saline due to mild hypotension. Initial bp of 94/52 has improved to 100/64.”
An older man—the doctor, Bruce guessed—looked at the paper copy of the EKG the medics gave him and frowned. “Okay, let’s start by repeating the twelve-lead. Then I want a CBC, CMP, magnesium, phosphate, troponin, lactate, urine drug screen, and a blood gas. Let’s also get a chest x-ray STAT.”
As the team scrambled to complete the new orders, a young man with “RN” on his badge approached Bruce with a clipboard. “Hi, are you Dad?”
Bruce nodded without hesitation. “I am.”
The nurse smiled reassuringly. “I just have a couple of questions for you. First, to confirm what the paramedics said, does Tim have a history of anything being wrong with his heart?”
Bruce kept his gaze focused on Tim as he answered. “No, sir, he’s never done anything like this before. He did lose his spleen in a car accident overseas about a year ago, but other than that, he’s always been pretty healthy.”
The nurse nodded. “Is Tim on any medications at home?”
“Just Veetids for his asplenia.”
“Allergies?”
“None that we know of.”
A weak moan caught his attention. A second nurse had just inserted another IV and drawn labs from Tim’s other arm. His son cracked his eyes open and started looking around in confusion.
“D-Dad?”
That one word, barely audible, caused the tension that had been building in his chest to release all at once. The sheer relief was almost enough to bring the Dark Knight to his knees.
He rushed forward to grab Tim’s hand. “I’m right here, bud. I’m right here. You’re going to be okay.”
“W-what–”
“Tim, you’re in the hospital,” the second nurse explained. “We just drew some blood so we can figure out how to help you.”
Tim blinked slowly, as if the words simply didn’t compute. His eyes shot back to his father. “Dad…”
Bruce gave him a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere, bud. I’m going to stay with you the whole time.”
The doctor from earlier shined a light in the boy’s eyes. “Son, can you tell me your name?”
“…Tim.”
“Good job. Tim, do you know why you’re here in the hospital?”
His eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t ‘member...”
“That’s okay,” the doctor assured. “How are you feeling now?”
“Tired…Chest hurts.”
“I’m not surprised. Tim, your heart temporarily stopped beating effectively, so you required CPR.”
Tim frowned. His eyes flicked back towards Bruce, widening slightly as the gravity of the statement washed over him. “CPR?”
“I know that’s very scary to hear, but you’re doing much better now. We’re going to do everything we can to prevent it from happening again.”
Again.
It could happen again.
Bruce could still see it–Tim lifeless on the floor, Dick hunched over him counting compressions, the horrible jerking of his son’s body as the AED delivered the shocks. The mere thought of it ever happening again had him swallowing down bile.
“X-ray is here,” someone called out, jarring him back to the present.
The chaos paused just long enough for the radiology tech to get the scan. Bruce remained at Tim’s side the entire time, both unwilling and unable to be apart from his son.
“I don’t see anything acutely concerning,” the doctor announced, scanning the portable x-ray’s screen. “Do we have the new EKG?”
“Just finished printing,” a tech responded, handing it over.
The longer he looked at the document, the more serious the doctor’s face grew. Whatever he was seeing, it wasn’t good. “Has anyone heard from cardiology?”
Bruce’s stomach dropped.
“Dr. Bruins called,” an older, senior-looking nurse reported from the doorway to the trauma bay. “He ordered a STAT echo. I have somebody calling, but by the time the sonographer gets here, he’ll probably be upstairs already.”
The man nodded at her then looked to Bruce. “Mr. Wayne, my name is Dr. Stanley. I’ll be treating your son while he’s down here in the ER.”
Bruce swallowed. “What do you know so far?”
“Well, at this point, our main objective is to figure out why your son went into cardiac arrest. His EKG looks abnormal, so the cardiologist ordered an ultrasound of the heart, called an echocardiogram, to get a better idea of what’s going on.”
Bruce had to fight to keep his voice even. Hearing the words “your son” and “cardiac arrest” in the same sentence felt horribly wrong. “What’s abnormal about his EKG?”
“It shows electrical changes that can sometimes suggest thickening of the heart muscle, but the echo will tell us much more. For now, his vital signs are stable, and he’s regaining consciousness, which are both very reassuring. He’ll just need to remain on close cardiac monitoring as he recovers.”
“So what happens next?” Bruce asked.
“We’re going to get him admitted to the PICU as soon as possible. Once he’s up there, he’ll have the echo done and see the cardiologist. Hopefully, you’ll be able to get some answers then.”
Bruce let out a shaky breath. “Thank you, Doctor.”