Dick stared at the ceiling fan. It spun, slowly but surely turning, ever ignorant of the world around it. It spun, regardless of the ribbon tied on the third blade, regardless of the breeze blowing in the window, regardless of the winter chill almost making his breath visible. The ceiling fan spun and the world spun and Dick couldn’t comprehend it.
The front door opened. Footsteps pattered into the hallway, past the kitchen and into the living room where he was laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling fan. The footsteps stopped for just a minute, before walking over to the window and sliding it shut. The lock clicked into place and a hand reached up to turn off the fan. Dick waited until it ceased any and all motion before tearing his eyes away from it.
“Have you eaten?” Tim asked.
Dick pried his mouth open, ignoring the awful taste that spoke of dehydration, “I…”
Tim waited a minute before accepting that was all he would get in response. He nodded, turned around and walked out of view. Dick watched him go with a pit in his stomach. A fourteen year old shouldn’t have to do the things him and Bruce made Tim do. Tim was too good. Too young. Too innocent. Except he wasn’t innocent because Bruce was breaking him and Dick was letting him and they were poisonous vines, weaving their way into Tim’s life, sucking the life out of him. Just like they did with Barbara. Just like they did with Jason. God, Jason. His baby brother, who was scared and suffering and died, all without Dick knowing.
“Dick,” Tim nudged him with a foot. Dick blinked, registering the water bottle and microwaved food in Tim’s hands. When had he had time to do that? Dick blinked again and he was sitting on the couch, food on his lap and opened water bottle in his hand.
Tim handed him the lid and a fork. “Drink and eat.”
Dick mechanically took a bite. Then another. Then a sip of water. He turned to look at Tim. His eyes were clouded and bruised, with his lip sporting a bloody cut that made Dick want to cry.
“Bruce?” Dick asked, voice raspy.
“Locked in the cave.”
Dick hummed, leaning over to bump his shoulder against Tim’s. He pressed his lips into the side of Tim’s head in the mockery of a kiss, trying not to remember doing the same thing to another little brother.
“Thank you. I’m sorry.”
Tim ducked a little to slide into place perfectly cuddled up against Dick’s side. “‘S okay. It’s always hard on the anniversary.”
Dick’s eyes watered. “It’s not okay, baby bird. You shouldn’t be…” looking after two grown men just because they can’t get their crap together.
“I’m sorry,” Dick said again.
Tim pressed closer. “Okay.”
Dick closed his eyes and thought absolutely nothing was okay.
