Chapter Text
Tim’s breath hitched as he shifted in his seat, and if Jason noticed, he wisely kept it to himself. Ignoring the tremor in his hands, Tim’s fingers flew across the keyboard in front of him, scanning the city’s cameras for any sign of where they took Damian.
“Why is the old guy so interested in you anyway?”
Jason asked from where he was leaning against the wall, polishing one of his guns. To anyone else, his posture would suggest he didn’t have a care in the world—but Tim knew better. Jason had already tried to stress clean Tim’s apartment twice within the hour they had been there; he was just as on edge as Tim was; only they’d been trained really well to hide it.
“Oh, you know, the usual,” Tim said offhandedly, half distracted and half avoiding the question. While his family thought they were fully knowledgeable of his escapades during Bruce’s absence, they didn’t exactly know the entire story, just what Tim was willing, and somewhat forced, to tell them. So while they were aware Tim wasn’t functioning with all of his original organs, he had managed to keep the how and why to himself, and more importantly, kept his association with the league out of it. Unfortunately, Ra’s was no longer satisfied with their long-distance relationship, and now Damian was caught in the middle of it.
“I don’t think it’s ever usual for a grown-ass man to be obsessed with a teenager,” Jason replied darkly, making his way to stand by the computer screen in front of Tim.
“Guess I’m just that special then,” Tim muttered as he pushed enter on the code he was writing.
“Anyway, this should run through the last twenty-four hours of any camera within a fifty-mile radius. It’s a good code, but it’ll still take about ten minutes for the computer to scrub through all the raw data for any sign of Damian,” Tim continued, leaving no room for Jason to try to continue the conversation. He had finally learned how to swallow the bile in his throat when he thought of the things Ra’s wanted to do to him…to do with him…and he didn’t need Jason trying to bring it back up. He’d honestly prefer any other conversation at the moment.
“Great,” Jason said, turning Tim’s chair to face him. “Then we have time to deal with whatever’s wrong with you.” Any conversation but that.
Tim closed his eyes and gripped the armrests as the world continued to spin even when the chair stopped moving.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, after making sure he wasn’t going to throw up.
“Really? Your labored breathing suggests otherwise.”
Tim opened his eyes to glare at Jason. Honestly, if you asked him, he was doing a phenomenal job at hiding the fact his side felt like it was on fire, or that his eyes had been getting blurrier by the minute, or that his lungs just couldn’t seem to get enough air in.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re really not.”
“I really am, and I don’t see how it has anything to do with yo—” The lights in Tim’s apartment shut off with a collective snap, leaving the computer in front of them the only source of illumination. Sharing a look, Jason unholstered his gun and started a sweep of the place, leaving Tim behind. While waiting for Jason to give the all clear, he started to look into the source of the outage when his screen went black for a few seconds before flickering back on to a live stream of an empty room with a chair in the middle of it.
Tim’s breath caught in his throat as Damian was dragged into frame and plopped into the vacant chair; conscious but clearly drugged.
“Hello, dear detective,” a voice said from offscreen. “It’s been far too long.” Tim watched as Ra’s al Ghul walked into frame, as smug and poised as ever. The light at the top of his screen let Tim know this was a two way interaction, and he subtly sat up straighter, trying to look less like he was on death’s doorstep.
“You’ve looked better.”
Apparently it wasn’t working.
“I’ve looked worse,” he replied honestly.
“True,” Ra’s said, looking off to the side with a hint of nostalgia, “I’ll never forget how helpless you were when I took out your spleen.”
A crash to his left had Tim whipping his head to the side to see Jason standing in the doorway, fist tight around a now broken flashlight. Tim swayed as the lightheadedness from his sudden movement hit him like a truck, and he slowly turned back to the screen, knuckles white as he gripped the desk for support. He’d deal with Jason later. One psycho at a time.
“A fond memory indeed,” his words as dry as the desert Ra’s found him in. “But I know you didn’t come all this way to skip down memory lane so, what do you want, Ra’s?”
“For you to come home, of course. To have you take your rightful place at my side.” Tim risked the dizziness to roll his eyes. It hurt, but it was worth it. “You are meant for greatness, detective, not to be cast aside by the man you call father.” Wow, we’re running all the highlights today.
“Why take Damian?”
“Incentive, insurance, bait- call it what you will, detective, but it’s clearly working.” Tim’s muddled mind raced to come up with a way to get Damian back without actually giving Ra’s anything he wanted, but be it the blood loss, the fever, the lack of sleep, or whatever else chose to ail Tim at the moment, he was drawing a blank.
“The answer has been, is, and will always be no.”
“Even in exchange for your dear brother’s life?” Ra’s waved his hand, and another man ran into view, one hand holding a sword to Damian’s neck and the other keeping the kid’s lulling head upright.
“You think I care about him? Your grandson has tried to kill me at least five times since I met the little freak. I couldn’t care less what you do with him.”
“Yet you took a bullet for him.” Cold sweat dripped down Tim’s neck as he felt Jason’s glare on the back of his head. The bullet hole in his side (oh, did he not mention that?) pulsed as if Tim needed any reminder of the night's earlier events.
“You may tell one story, detective, but actions always speak louder than words.”
“If you wanted him dead, he would already be six feet under,” Tim challenged.
“The aim isn’t to kill Damian. I’m here to make a trade; he’s just the bargaining chip.” Ra’s nodded to the man behind him, who sheathed his sword and let Damian’s head fall limp to his chest.
“You for the boy, simple as that.”
Tim opened his mouth to speak but stopped as his computer chimed with a notification.
“I’ll see you at this address in an hour.” The room was plunged into darkness as the screen shut off. Then, as if nothing ever happened, all of the lights turned back on, causing Tim to shut his eyes as bolts of pain shot through his head.
“Replacement,” Jason spoke the word as a warning.
“You heard the man,”
“Hey, look at me,”
“We have an hour—”
“Tim!” Knowing he couldn’t keep his eyes closed forever, Tim turned to look up at Jason, watching as the man’s gaze scanned him, eyes squinting at the barely noticeable growing dark spot on his uniform.
“It’s fine, Jason,” Tim said, pulling the corner of his cape over his body.
“You were shot,” Jason stated, as if alerting Tim of new information.
“I know, I was there.”
“I’ve been here for over an hour.” Jason’s voice was slowly moving from ‘what the fuck’ to ‘what the fuck’.
“Mhm.”
“And you’re telling me you’ve just been sitting there, silently bleeding out, as we’ve done fuck all to find Damian‽” Jason was yelling by the end of his sentence, clearly not caring that it felt like a jackhammer to Tim’s head.
“I mean, I thought we were making progress,” Tim mumbled.
“That’s not the point here, Tim!” Jason yelled, slamming his hand on the desk beside them.
“What the hell happened tonight?”
“I already told you,” Tim groaned, propping his elbows on the desk as he rested his head in his hands.
“No,” Jason growled. “You told me you went on patrol with Damian and he got kidnapped. You decidedly left out the part where you got shot.”
Tim sat back and slowly swiveled his chair to face Jason.
“Fine. Damian and I went on patrol. I got shot, he got kidnapped, I came back here, patched myself up, then called you to see if you’d seen any activity in your area.”
“You patched yourself up,” Jason said incredulously.
“Mhm.”
Jason stared at him, thinking. “Was it a through and through?”
Tim shook his head.
“Did you get the bullet out?”
Apparently Tim’s hesitation was answer enough.
“Fuck, Tim.”
“It’s fine, I’ll deal with it later.”
“Not if you’re dead later.” Jason ran a hand over his face. “You don’t know where that thing’s been! You can’t just leave it inside your spleenless body.”
“There were, and still are, more pressing matters to attend to.” Tim quickly wrote down the address Ra’s had sent him, stood up with little to no noises of pain, and took care to keep the desk nearby in case his legs decided to stop working.
“It's doing its job to staunch the bleeding anyway, so I’d call it a win.”
“Is it, though?” Jason gestured to the chair he had been sitting in that now had a considerable amount of blood staining its fabric. Shit, Tim inwardly groaned as he pressed a hand lightly to his side, wincing as his fingers quickly became coated with blood.
“At least let me re-bandage it before you go off to play hero.”
Tim glared at Jason, but nodded nonetheless. He took a step forward, only for the world to black out around him. As his body listed sideways, strong hands gripped his arms, keeping him upright as his legs turned to jelly.
“Fine, my ass,” Jason muttered as he half carried, half dragged Tim’s body into the bathroom. He was placed on the side of the tub as Jason rummaged through his sink cabinet for the first aid kit.
“You’re going to have to take off your suit so I can get to your side, at least the top half of it.”
“See, that sounds like a lot of work,” Tim said, moving to get up. “Why don’t we do that after we get Damian—”
“So help me God, Tim, if you try to move, I will not catch your ass when you pass out.”
Tim sighed in annoyance, but sat back down and removed the top half of his suit. The bottom was stuck to his side with dried blood, making him need to rip open what little had congealed, causing it to bleed freely once more. Tim’s head suddenly felt like it was made of air, and he would have fallen backwards into the tub had Jason not looked over at the right time.
“What did I tell you, replacement?” Jason’s hands on his shoulders tightened as Tim sagged in the hold.
“But I didn’t move,” He whined, taking full advantage of Jason's support, allowing his head to fall on the other’s shoulder, and he felt more than heard Jason sigh.
“You’re burning up,” he said, as he pulled Tim up and placed a hand on his forehead.
“It was bound to happen,” Tim said, shrugging. With a huff, Jason shifted him so he was sitting on the floor, his back resting against the bathtub to support him. After Jason was sure Tim wouldn’t fall over, he reached for the first aid kit and set it down beside them. He opened it, gave Tim a once-over, and pulled out the thermometer.
“That’s entirely unnecessary,” Tim said, scootching as far back as he could go. “It’s just a slight fever, I swear.”
“Humor me,” Jason said before unceremoniously sticking the thermometer in Tim’s mouth.
“We really don’t have time for this,” he said around it, causing Jason to shoot him a glare.
“Don’t talk or we’ll have to start over.” Tim rolled his eyes, but said nothing. As they waited, Jason began cleaning the wound on his side, grimacing at the sight.
“We really should take the bullet out,” he sighed, and Tim knew better than to comment. Jason was right; he knew that the longer the bullet was left in, the worse the symptoms got, which included a higher risk of infection. But Tim knew he was going to get that regardless, and he’d made the executive decision that finding Damian was more important. He was aware of the risks, and now he was paying the price.
Jason finished wrapping the wound, then pulled the thermometer from Tim’s mouth and held it up to the light. Tim couldn’t see the numbers from where he was sitting, but he had a clear view of the wash of emotions that swept across Jason’s face.
“That good, huh?” Jason tossed the thermometer on the ground and began rummaging through the rest of the first aid kit. Tim picked it up; 103.8. Yikes, that was most definitely an infection. Unfortunate, but unsurprising.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jason mumbled as he pushed the kit away, obviously not finding what he was looking for. He turned and headed for the door.
“Wait, where are you going?” Tim asked, slowly getting up from the floor, ignoring the way the world spun around him.
“To get some fever reducers and your antibiotics.”
“I don’t have any.” Jason stopped with his hand on the door.
“Any of which one?”
“Either,” Tim said sheepishly.
“What?”
“I ran out of fever reducers a while ago, and I haven’t gotten around to refilling my prescriptions.”
“Why the hell not?” Jason said, turning around. Tim shrugged, trying to look anywhere but in Jason’s direction.
“I don’t know, things have been busy,” he began, clumsily zipping his suit back up. “WE’s been hectic, and with Batman off world and Dick in Bludhaven, I haven’t really had the time to—”
“To what, refill your LIFE SAVING medication‽”
“I’ve felt fine; it wasn’t really much of a priority.”
“Yet here we are.” Jason scoffed, gesturing around the room.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay, but there’s not much we can do about it now. After we get Damian back, I’ll head to the store and—”
“After‽ Sweet dumb Timothy, we need to get your temp down yesterday,” Jason’s words dripped with venom. “You’re reaching levels that aren’t easy to come back from.”
“I’m aware, Jason. I’ve lived without a spleen long enough; I can handle it.” Tim brushed past and headed to the kitchen for his gear; they were wasting time.
“For fucks sake,” Jason yelled after him. “For once in your life, could you just care about your own well-being?”
“There are more important things to worry about right now!” Tim yelled back, immediately regretting it as the intensity made his head throb.“I don’t have the luxury to sit around and do nothing.”
Jason simply looked at him in disbelief. “Sit around? Tim, you’ve been shot!”
“And Damian’s been kidnapped; I don’t see where the miscommunication is.” Jason stared at him like he had three heads.
“Last I checked, Damian was alive and well, not half dead on his feet!” Jason took a breath, finally lowering his tone as he saw Tim wince at the volume.
“Look, I am worried about him too, but we need to handle one crisis at a time. Your life isn’t worthless.”
“No, it’s just worth less than his.” Tim grabbed his utility belt off the table and left Jason behind in the apartment. Not exactly how he wanted that conversation to end, but he’d deal with the fallout of that later.
The address Ra’s had given him was close by, and luckily enough, the Batcave was on the way, allowing Tim to swing by and pick up extra supplies. He was on his way out, but hesitated as he passed the med bay, a thought crossing his mind.
Tim needed to be in fighting shape to best Ra’s, meaning he needed to not be moments away from passing out. He filed through the medical cabinets until he found the emergency adrenaline injector.
Key word: emergency.
Every instinct in him was screaming, but dire circumstances called for downright moronic actions.
Bracing himself, Tim jabbed the cartridge into his thigh and pressed the plunger. His world went white as what felt like lightning raced through his veins. What little breath he had was knocked out of him, and he fell to the floor gasping, hand over his racing heart. He might have passed out; he wasn’t entirely sure, but it took a few seconds for his senses to come trickling back. He sat as the world spun around him.
Well, he wasn’t dead yet.
After making sure he wasn’t going into cardiac arrest, Tim shakily got to his feet and set course for the rendezvous. He had wasted enough time already.
It didn’t take him long to reach the location, and as he pulled up, a figure made its way out of the shadows.
“Took you long enough.”
“What are you doing here, Jason?”
“Someone’s gotta make sure to save the brat when you inevitably keel over.”
Even though it was said jokingly, Tim heard real concern bubbling beneath the surface. As annoying as he was, Tim had to admit Jason being there had its advantages. Did he necessarily want an audience as he dealt with Ra’s? No, but if it was going to be anyone, Jason was the least likely to bring it up later.
“Fine,” Tim said, gingerly slipping off his bike, back turned to Jason to hide the look of pain he was too tired to mask. Clenching his fists, he estimated he had about ten minutes tops before his body completely gave out. And between the fever and the blood loss, he wasn’t positive he’d even make it that long.
“But if you’re staying, you have to do what I say.”
“I’ve danced this dance before; I think I know what I’m doing.” Jason started to walk forward, stopping only when Tim grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
“Jason, I’m serious. My history with Ra’s is…colorful, to put it mildly. I’ve kept a lot from you guys for a reason.” Jason’s gaze darkened as he continued talking.
“I will go in and distract him while you get Damian out. But whatever happens in there, whatever I say, whatever I do, you cannot react. Got it? Better yet, just don’t listen at all.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?”
“Get Damian, and get out. That’s all you need to do.”
“Tim—”
“I mean it, Jason.” Tim let go of Jason’s arm, walked into the lion’s den, and didn’t look back.
(Jason POV interlude…)
Jason watched Tim disappear into the building, still processing the kid's words. Part of him feared what he would hear, already hating how the man talked to Tim on the video call. Another part of him, however, couldn’t wait for just one more reason to put the fucker in the ground.
Having already looked at the schematics, Jason moved to the back of the building where there was a rusted but stable fire escape, and slipped in unnoticed. Stealth wasn’t really his style, but desperate times called for desperate measures. From his place on the catwalk, he could see where Tim had entered and now stood in front of Ra’s al Ghul.
“Glad to see you’re still alive, detective.” Ra’s voice carried and echoed throughout the building.
“I’m not that easy to get rid of.” Tim subtly glanced in Jason’s direction, nodding to the corner where they must have been keeping Damian. Jason nodded back and made his way toward the back of the building.
“Very true, you seem to bounce back more than most. A shame we couldn’t have tested that more when we were together.”
Jason’s blood boiled, green slowly creeping into his vision, at the way Ra’s said ‘together’. They were thirty seconds into the conversation, and Jason was already ready to jump in and end it. Nails digging into his palm, he pushed down his anger and jumped to the ground level, taking out the few guards on his way. To his right, Damian sat tied up, half conscious.
“Have you finally agreed to join me at my right hand?”
“That depends. What’s in it for me?”
Jason stopped untying Damian’s bonds at Tim’s tone. Was he… no, he couldn’t be…was Tim flirting?
“Anything you desire,” Ra’s responded in kind.
“And you’d just forget the fact that I single-handedly blew up your empire?” Tim did what‽
Damian’s bonds were loose enough now for Jason to slip them off of him. He was still pretty out of it, so Jason had to sling the kid over his shoulders to leave his hands free to climb out the way he came.
“If you begged me to.” Jason whipped his head around in time to see Ra’s in front of Tim, hand cupping the boy’s chin, thumb brushing across his bottom lip. Bile crept up Jason’s throat as he unconsciously started to step forward, only halting when Tim’s gaze slid to his, his eyes screaming at Jason to walk away. But the older boy’s feet were cemented to the ground. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything but watch as Tim closed his eyes in resignation and painfully sank to his knees in front of Ra’s.
Jason’s heart ached at the sight.
“Oh, to see you on your knees, detective, it’s better than I could have dreamed.” Tim’s head bowed as he slumped forward, arms reaching out to brace himself. Anger boiled in Jason’s veins, almost distracting him from Tim’s hand. Almost. On the ground, Tim’s finger started tapping, just enough for Jason to perceive the movement.
L-E-A-V-E
Tim tapped out repeatedly until he was sure Jason understood, and then changed it to,
I-M-B-E-H-I-N-D-Y-O-U
Tim continued tapping until Jason reluctantly started to make his way back up to the fire escape.
Five minutes tops, he told himself. If Tim wasn’t out in five minutes, he was going back in to get him, wishes be damned.
He was able to make his way out of the building with little trouble, setting Damian down beside his bike. The kid stirred but made no other signs of waking. Not wanting to deal with the dead weight on the way home, Jason fished his modified smelling salts from his bike’s compartment and waved them beneath Damian’s nose.
A second passed before Damian shot forward, hacking up a breath.
“Jeez, Jason, don’t kill the kid after we did all that work to save him.” Jason turned to see Tim walking out of the building, arm wrapped around his side as if his life depended on it. The kid looked like death, and that was Jason being generous. Tim had always been pale, but his face was damn near translucent, save for the flush of his fevered cheeks. It was clear his body was fighting through hell, and how he had not collapsed by now was a fucking miracle.
“Drake?” Damian asked, taking a few seconds to observe his surroundings before everything seemed to fall into place. “Drake, you were shot.” Damian jumped to his feet, teetering slightly before regaining his balance. “And my grandfather—”
“Has been taken care of,” Tim said tiredly, placing a hand on Damian’s shoulder to calm him.
“Taken care of,” Jason said with air quotes. “What the hell does that mean?”
“I’m with Todd; you don’t look to be in any condition to ‘take care’ of my grandfather.”
Tim gestured to the empty street. “Do you see a crazy assassin in sight?” Jason and Damian looked at each other, then back at Tim.
“You didn’t...you know.” Jason ran a finger across his throat.
“He’s still alive, Jason,” Tim said with a sigh, exhaustion evident in his tone.
“Damn, that's a shame.”
“Then what did you do to him?” Damian asked, ignoring Jason’s comment. Jason watched as darkness filled Tim’s eyes.
“What I had to.”
“After what I saw in there, I’m gonna need a bit more than that, princess.” Tim glared at Jason before rolling his eyes and reaching into his utility belt to pull out a small vial. He tossed it to Damian, who caught it with ease.
“It’s a paralytic agent Stephanie whipped up. He’s down for the count, but it won’t last forever, so I suggest we get going—”
“Drake.” Damian cut Tim off, staring intently at the vial in his hands. “I helped make this.”
Tim went still. Jason looked between his two brothers, who seemed to be having a silent conversation—apparently he was missing something.
“Uh, ok, good for you?”
Damian sighed and threw the vial to Jason.
“Todd, the only way to activate this is through saliva.” Jason looked at Tim, then at the bottle in his hands, then back at Tim, blood running cold as the puzzle pieces fell into place.
(Aaaand back to Tim’s POV)
“Jason,” Tim began, arms reaching out in a calming gesture as he saw the click in Jason’s eyes.
“I’m gonna kill him.”
Jason unholstered his gun and began loading the cartridge. In any other situation, Tim might have appreciated the outrage on his behalf, but exhaustion was eating at his very soul. His legs were numb; it was getting increasingly harder to breathe, and his heart shouldn’t be beating that fast, should it? The night just needed to end.
“Jason, enough, it’s over.” Tim pleaded.
“Bullshit. It ain't over until he’s dead.”
Jason cocked the gun and moved to head inside. Tim looked to Damian, who simply shrugged and leaned his back against Jason’s bike.
Helpful.
“Jason, please–” Tim turned and reached out to stop him, only for his vision to swim, the movement sending lightning through his side. He screamed and fell to the floor, hand pressed tight against his body, tears forming in his eyes. Everything was buzzing, and it seemed as if his free trial of premium oxygen had expired. Every breath he took came with stabs of pain, and his chest felt like it was being crushed by a semi-truck. Guess that’s what he gets for injecting himself with pure adrenaline—his heart simultaneously racing and failing to keep up.
And then, just as everything became too much, it all stopped.
Is this what dying felt like?
If he lived, he and Jason should compare notes.
Someone rolled him onto his back, and pressure increased at his side. But he no longer felt the pain. He no longer felt anything at all.
Echoes of a conversation danced around him, but he was too out of it to listen.
He was looking up now, the beginnings of dawn streaking across the dark of night. All in all, not a bad way to go.
Tim felt the exact moment his heart finally gave out—the sky fading to black as someone screamed his name one last time.