#tim:dick

[yourethebeeskneez]

“When is the last time you ate?” @ tim

It wasn't the first question that Dick has asked him, but it was the first question that Tim actually stopped to reply to, the rest of them getting one word or grunts in response. He held back a sigh as he pulled his legs into the chair with him, shifting so he was looking at his brother. It should have been an easy question but time had stopped making sense ages ago, "I don- I'm not hungry. I just need to get this done and then..." He looked back to his computer and the papers that surrounded it covered in pen marks. He needed to get this done so he could work on the next case, then the next, then the one after that. It didn't end, it would never end. Tim was beyond aware of the fact that it wouldn't end but he also knew he couldn't stop, stopping meant lives were at risk. He could do with an hour less sleep, a meal or two skipped in the middle of a heavy workload, it was fine. He was fine. "I'll be done in a minute."

[yourethebeeskneez]

this is what happens when people don’t have hobbies. @ tim

His head snapped up from the files in front of him, shaking his head he began blinking a few times as he stared at his older brother. It took a moment for his eyes to focus before he made a noise of displeasure, "I have plenty of hobbies Richard." He didn't. That wasn't really relevant though. In reality, he was failing half his classes once again and his skateboard magically disappeared along with his car keys, he was used to losing things but rarely were either of those things on the list. Using his oh-so-impressive detective skills he concluded that Bruce had taken them and somehow found out about his grades, which was less than ideal but Tim would fix them... Eventually. Honestly, he'd planned on working on his schoolwork when he'd come downstairs, but he very quickly found himself sidetracked by an article that Kon had sent him. In a matter of seconds he'd found himself surrounded in a street art conspiracy, determined to get to the bottom of what exactly was going on. Currently, he was surrounded with printed out photographs of different art pieces and far too much frantically scribbling which he now regretted doing directly on the table, it was too important at the moment to find more paper. All it took was Dick entering the room for him to realize that all he'd really done thus far was add another reason for Bruce to murder him onto the ever-growing list. Clearing his throat he composed what remained of his dignity and stared at Dick once again, "it's a conspiracy."

[yourethebeeskneez]

❝ Is that a dare? ❞ -dick for tim

Tim stared at his brother for a moment, then eyed the chandelier, carefully examining the placement of the tables and statues around the room. The columns were placed a decent distance away from each other, the art wasn't supported by anything strong enough for Dick to place his weight on. It seemed like a solid bet and frankly the look on Bruce's face alone would be enough to justify the $200 he'd offered up, the other gala attendees' reactions would more than please him. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his wallet, removing two very crisp hundred dollar bills and holding them out. "It's more than a dare, it's a full-on bet. $200 if you hang for more than three minutes. Has to cross the three-minute mark, no hands can touch the chandelier at any point, including initially grabbing it, legs, feet, and knees only. Hands in this case is including arms so don't try and cheat."

[yourethebeeskneez]

❝ you keep saying that! but clearly it was that bad! ❞ @ tim

"Dick, honestly, it wasn't that bad." That made the eighth time the words had left Tim's mouth, usually he was very good at speaking things into truth, but even this was beyond his abilities. "Okay like sure, I'm pretty sure my arm is broken. That's... Not ideal. I heal fast though, so we can just... Not worry about it." He honestly couldn't even feel it anymore, numbness after a break wasn't a good sign, but he was ready to convince himself that it was considering he wasn't feeling pain. No matter how hard he tried though his arm was not moving from his current position against his chest. "Outside of my arm no one got hurt when the building collapsed and Kon pulled me back at the right moment. It's not that bad. It was just a matter of timing being a little off." Nine. He'd said it nine times and Dick looked even less convinced than when he'd first started. "Can we just not tell B about this? You know how he feels about Bart and Conner and I just... It was my fault. Okay?"

[yourethebeeskneez]

❛ you have to leave this room - it’s been a week. ❜ -dick or fox @ tim

He didn't move at the sound of footsteps, nor at the sound of his door opening. He gave no reaction at all to the sound of Dick speaking and maybe if it had been anyone but Dick they would have just assumed that he was sleeping. Sleep didn't come anymore though, sleep was one more thing that had left him in a long string of losses. In a cruel twist of fate, he wasn't even able to sleep the days away until things felt normal again. It might have been easier if he felt something, anything, but the pain had left days ago. The pain flitted away along with the feelings of hunger, thirst, the need for companionship, all gone like leaves in a harsh wind.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Everyone was dead. Why was everyone dead? Why did everyone have to leave him at the same time?

His dad was dead. Bruce was dead. Steph was dead. Conner was dead. Bart was dead? Maybe... It didn't matter, it was too much.

Dick's overwhelming presence was still there, suffocating him, reminding him that his brother hadn't left the room.

There was so much work to be done. Robin was still needed on the streets, someone needed to make up for the lack of Batman. He knew Dick was playing The Bat, he wasn't Bruce though and even Bruce couldn't do it alone so how did Dick except to do so? Except he didn't. Tim had almost forgotten that Dick didn't plan on doing it alone, he just planned on doing it with Robin. He wasn't Robin though, he was fired. Robin wasn't needed on the streets because Robin was already on the streets, Damian was on the streets.

No parents. No adoptive parent. No Robin. No friends. No family. Nothing. What was left? Was there anything left?

An overwhelming sense of nothing.

Feeling nothing.

Being nothing.

Having nothing.

Why was Dick still suffocating him?

He tried to get out of bed but none of his limbs moved, in the week he'd spent curled up he felt as though he'd melded with his mattress. He couldn't move, his body wasn't going to move. He needed to. Tim needed to get out of bed. He needed to fix things. Clearly, no one else was going to fix anything and he could, he knew how... He had an idea how. He had... A theory. That was all he needed, he'd had less in the past and things had worked out so why did he need more now?

He just needed something... Anything. He needed, he needed Dick gone.

"I can't breathe" There was a pounding in his head, caused by the use of his own voice, "You're just standing there sucking all the air out of the room and suffocating me. Close the fucking door with yourself on the other side."

Tim needed to leave. He needed to go. To get far away, to be far away. He needed to get something. To have something again.

Conner.

He could get Conner. If Lex could create a clone why couldn't he? One thing, he could get one thing back. He could have one thing again. Have someone and then... Then it would be okay. He had an idea, a theory, a plan. He just needed to get out of bed.

[yourethebeeskneez]

❝ why didn’t you wait for me? ❞ dick @ tim

Tim sat on the floor of the cave, using one finger to lazily press the ice pack to his throbbing head. It was a fair question but it was also one that Tim didn't really have an answer to. In his humble opinion, he hadn't actually been injured enough to come in from patrol, just a little beat up a sore, but he wasn't planning to disappoint his older brother more by arguing over it. Dick had said he was on his way when Tim had informed him of the situation, he'd told him to wait for support, he'd said he was four minutes out. A beat had passed, followed by a second, then he'd leaped in without a plan, hoping that he'd figure it out by the time his feet hit the floor.

He didn't so he went with the most obvious choice, start hitting. Eight grown men versus one Red Robin. Odds were... Not ideal. By the time he'd dropped two of them four more had entered and things definitely looked a little worse by the time he'd switched from fists and feet to his bo staff. Half were left when he took the hit to the head, rocking him a little harder than he felt it should have. Three left when the gunshot rang his ears and the bullet just barely grazed his calf. Two left when Nightwing dropped in beside him, nine minutes later than the four minutes he'd said it would take him. Dick's entrance gave him the break he needed to grab the child he'd been searching for, scooping the kid into his arms and asking Babs to send the police to them.

The trip to the cave had been silent aside from the pounding in Tim's head and the screaming coming from his ribs. Walking was going to be rough for the next few days. Dick's question continued to spin around in Tim's head and he slowly lifted his eyes to meet the way too bright blue eyes of his older brother. Didn't Dick have a whole name for what Tim had done? Nightwinging it. Wasn't it obvious? He'd made a lot of jokes about how thick Dick's head must be, but could he really not see it? "I was just trying to do what you would have." "I took a calculated risk. My odds seemed fine so I went in."

@formerlyrobin