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literati42 · 7 years

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Tim Drake Fic: When the Bat is Away

Title: When the Bat is Away Part 1

Rating: PG

Genre: Hurt/comfort, family, angst,

Characters: Tim centric, with Jason, Dick, and Damian. Mentions of Alfred, Julia Pennyworth, and Bruce

Description: When Batman and Alfred are out of town, the Robins--past and present--are left to care for Gotham. All of this would work out fine if Tim was not hiding something...

Prompt request from @fandom-princess-of-awesomeness `: “Tim ends up getting sick while Bruce and Alfred are away and Dick, Jason, and Damian take care of him.”

Note: This is part 1. Part 2 is here

Tim wiped sweat off his brow with one hand, holding on to one of Gotham’s many gargoyles with the other. It was a cool night according to the weather he checked earlier as part of his pre-mission recon. Tim was never one to leave any loose ends and not factoring in weather into plans was simply amateur hour. Weather could be your greatest foe or your best ally, depending on how well you accounted for it. He explained this to his siblings several dozen times, but of course, that just led to Jason calling him a nerd and Damian going on about how a true warrior is master of the elements rather than a slave to them. Tim rolled his eyes at the memory and took a breath, wiping his forehead again. It was supposed to be cold, and genuinely each breeze seemed to go right through him, regardless of the Red Robin uniform. So why was he sweating? He cursed himself for losing focus, shifting his grip and glancing out to watch for his siblings. He leaned a hand on the net where one of the Riddler’s henchmen hung below the gargoyle Tim was currently perched on. His name was Eric, Tim knew this not just because of his detective abilities. He knew this man’s name because it was time number 7 he caught him during a heist. Eric had worked for every big wig baddie in the city, with the exception of Joker because, and Tim remembered the quote exactly, “that fool is crazy.”

“You’re not looking so good,” said Eric, frowning through his green costume. “Maybe you should let me go and get some rest. You have a bit of a sheen.” The sad thing, Tim noted, was the man sounded genuinely concerned. “And those bags under your eyes are getting worse.” Tim did not hide his eye roll.

“You can’t see the bags under my eyes,” he replied.

“True, but I know they are there,” Eric replied, “I hear it in your voice.” Tim grunted. “Seriously, you’re not even being a smartass. That’s not a good sign from you, I mean it.” Tim grumbled, turning away. It was bad enough to get the overbearing parental treatment at home, but now the actual criminals were joining in? He straightened up to try and work a kink out of his muscles and felt a sharp pang in his side. He hissed and pressed his hand against it. “Kid?” Eric said. Tim waved him off.

“Hey Babybird,” the signal picked up in his communicator, transmitting the familiar voice of Dick Grayson, resident first Robin and current Nightwing. “We have a situation. You got the Riddler problem handled?”

“Yeah, it was just Eric again, the big guy himself didn’t make an appearance.”

“Is that Nightwing?” asked the thug, shifting in the net, “Say hi for me.” Tim glared down at him, but could not respond before Nightwing chirped over the comm.

“Oh hey Eric, didn’t we just lock you up?”

“Didn’t take, what are you going to do? That’s the broken system for ya,” Eric replied.

“If you two are finished playing catch-up, there was a situation?” Tim pressed, massaging his temple. His skin felt clammy. He pulled his hand back and saw it was shaking, just slightly. He needed more coffee.

“Yeah, something going on at the docks. Head down here as soon as you can.” Dick sighed, actually sighed over the comm.“ Something is always going on at the docks, and it’s never anything pleasant.”

“We’ll all go take a picnic down by the polluted Gotham water next time we’re free then,” broke in the voice of Tim’s other older brother, Jason Todd.

“The communicators are for mission relevant conversation,” Damian’s young voice came in now as a low growl, “I expect professionalism from the three of you. Just because father is away doesn’t mean we can slack on discipline.”

The bickering became a steady flow and Tim could not stay focused on the meaning of the words. The pain in his side was magnifying now.

“Hey, Red Robin, maybe it’s not the best idea to be swinging around in your condition,” Eric commented quietly, as Tim shot his grappling hook. He did not respond, just shut off the comm, his head immediately filling with silence in the absence of familial bickering. He closed his eyes for a split second, forced them open, and swung.

_-_-_

Less than 10 minutes later, Tim was neck deep in thugs. He swung his bow staff, connecting sharply with one’s temple and then spun around to take another out at the knees. Dick was to his right, Jason to his left, and behind him, he could hear Damian. Tim remembered that morning when Dick joked about being bored while Alfred and Bruce were overseas. Of course, Dick had only said that to whine about the fact that the older generations were not sharing the information about where they were going or why. They merely stated that they would be gone and out of communication, and could the four boys please try to work together and keep Gotham in one piece. After having to break up another squabble between Damian and Tim, Bruce had commented that maybe he should call Superman to swing by for a few days. That had Dick straightening up quickly to assure their father they would be okay and would even play nice. After all, what was the worst thing that could happen in a few days?

Tim rolled his eyes as he ducked to avoid getting shot in the head by a gun that was definitely not street legal. Yes, Dick, what was the worst that could happen? He thought. He saw one of the higher up henchmen ducking out a window. Tim narrowed his eyes and broke free of the fight, jumping onto a surprised thug’s shoulders and using them as a springboard to throw himself out the window. He landed on the other side. It should have been a clean jump, but for some reason, it vibrated through his bones. He cringed and then his hand went back to his side. The pain was sharp. He lifted his glove, but no blood. He concluded he was not shot. Anything else he could worry about later. He took off after the man. The chase took them down a pier toward a boat. This man was clearly a general among the Penguin’s thugs, heading back to the casino to report on the current Robin activity. Tim could not let him get away.

Red Robin heard the fight behind him spilling out of the warehouse onto the street. His brothers were outside now but too occupied to track him. He heard other thugs running their direction, heading for the boat, but he focused ahead. He launched himself off the pier just as the boat started out, rolling as he landed on the deck. He was up at once, fists up. The world swayed as if from waves, but the water was clear. The thug turned around, his expression going first to fear and then to confusion. Then a look of confidence took over the thugs face. Tim had exactly two seconds to try and untangle that expression before pain rocketed through him from his side. He collapsed to his knees. Suddenly, Tim was hurling onto the deck. The pain in his side was ratcheting up. He felt impossibly hot and terribly cold. He saw the thugs boots in his vision and then hurled directly on them.

He could just make out the sounds coming over his comm. “Status report,” Dick’s voice commanded.

“I have West exit covered,” Damian pipped in.

“Have a pile of them at the East exit,” Jason added.

“That better be a living pile,” Dick said.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“If father was here…”

“Red Robin, report,” Dick cut off their younger brother. “Red Robin…report.”

Tim heard all of this. The familiar sounds of his siblings squabbling, just as a hand roughly hauled him off the deck. He was suddenly face to face with the Penguin’s enforcer. The wicked smile would have been sickening if Tim had not already felt so ill. He leaned in, his voice registering on the comm. He knew. He knew they could hear him. “Sorry, birds, Red Robin is out of commission.” Tim tried to make his body work, but the pain was so intense he was unable even to keep his eyes open. Then he was in the air, thrown like garbage. The waves hit him with their ice, and he gasped. Water filled his lungs. The pain, the growing fever, the water. It all mixed together into a swirl of pain and panic.

_-_-_

“Sorry, birds, Red Robin is out of commission,” the words hit Red Hood like a punch to the gut. He shot his current opponent, not even checking to see if the wound was fatal and took off back toward the others. The splash registered on the comms, so Tim was near the water. Jason holstered his weapons and dove off the dock into the water; one thought bouncing against his skull like a pool ball. No Robin was going to die here tonight. Not again. He saw the wake of the boat heading off and swam toward it, diving down the moment he reached the place the boat had been tied up. The waves broke the light of the full moon above into fingers reaching into the murky depths. One finger caught on red. Red chest plate, red metallic wings. Jason did not think, merely grabbed and began kicking back to the surface. His little brother’s body was completely still against him. He surfaced, and suddenly there were hands trying to rip Tim from him. He snarled and tried to kick away.

“Hood, stop,” Dick’s voice snapped. He grabbed Tim and this time Jason let go, letting their older brother draw the kid up onto the dock. Dick laid Tim out and began compressions. Jason pulled himself up, watching. Tim was not respond. At all.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Damian said, pushing Dick away and taking over. His furious little fists pounding Tim’s sternum. Jason looked up, alert to the danger, but all the henchmen had scattered, using this opportunity to avoid capture. Not a lowlife in Gotham wanted to be around if one of the Bat’s birds died. Jason growled. He would not let himself think that.

Damian’s fist made a wet thwack, and suddenly Tim was sputtering. He threw up water. Then vomited again. Jason leaned forward, watching the kid’s face, but those familiar eyes remained shut. He hurled one final time and then curled up in a ball. He was shivering, his face contorting in pain. Tim, the tireless. Tim the never-say-never. Tim the boy who would claim he was fine even if have his limbs were laying in a pile on the floor. Jason’s little brother Tim, whimpered in pain. Jason felt sick.

Then he felt furious.

“What did they do to you?” he growled. He saw the hand Tim had pressed against his side and began trying to pry it loose. He needed to see the damage. He managed to move Tim’s hand, but there was no visible wound. The kid’s hand though, Tim was burning up.

“We need to get him back to the cave,” Dick said, his voice sharp, masking the worry with control. Jason grunted in response, dragging the kid up into his arms. He felt Damian fall into step behind him, saw Dick going first. Jason felt Tim trying to curl up again in his arms.

Someone was going to pay.

----

Part 2 to continue

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