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“I still don’t get why you asked me to come with you,” Tim grumbled, kicking at a clump of snow on the sidewalk.
Any other time, he would have loved Jason asking him to help him carry a dresser he’d found in an antique shop back to his apartment. But it was the dead of winter and Jason didn’t have a car, and of course it was too much to borrow Bruce’s or even Dick’s cars, or literally any of the five sitting in Bruce’s garage. Because Jason was a spiteful bastard and actually liked being outside when it was below zero.
Tim lived closest, he’d insisted. Tim was thoroughly regretting going to the Nest for the weekend instead of the Manor. At least at the Manor he’d be drinking Alfred’s hot chocolate and probably talking about photography and painting with Damian, now that they both found something they could bond over.
Jason bumped his shoulder against Tim’s. “Don’t complain. I could still kill you.”
That threat had been a lot more intimidating when Jason had been unhinged and too trigger-happy for his own good. Now, it was a threat he threw around carelessly. Jason skidded gracefully across a frozen puddle.
“Besides, this isn’t a compliment,” Jason said, turning back and waiting for Tim to catch up. Tim was carefully avoiding frozen puddles because he slipped more than skated across them. “You were the least insufferable one I could find. If Steph had been around, I’d have asked her.”
Tim stared blankly at Jason. “Gee, I feel so loved.”
“Bruce said you needed to get out of the house. I agree. You’re two shades away from people spraying holy water in your face and calling you a vampire.”
Tim scowled. He didn’t bother replying to Jason, he simply left him where he was standing and stormed ahead. Jason could catch up. Tim would wait for him on the bridge.
He slipped on a frozen puddle and nearly missed falling face-first into the thick layer of snow lining each side of the sidewalk. Tim loved snow, but only when he could experience it from the warmth of his apartment, under a thick blanket with a mug of hot chocolate.
He didn’t even like participating in snowball fights anymore. They used to be fun, back when it was just Tim, Dick and Steph. Now it was an all-out war and ended with either Damian or Jason giving someone a concussion. And they both refused to be on Tim’s team. Concussions caused by a snowball fight were like a rite of passage. Even Duke had gotten one.
Tim stopped halfway on the bridge and watched a blue Sedan drive by. The roads were icy and had yet to be salted, so they were mostly empty now.
With mostly empty streets filled with pedestrians and children playing in the snow, practically void of cars with white snow, a gray sky, and bare trees with limbs twisting towards the sky, it painted a scene too serene and beautiful for Tim to let it pass. His fingers itched for his old camera, that he’d most likely left at the Nest, or even at the Manor.
God, he hadn’t had the time to fall back into photography in almost two years.
He reached under his parka and pulled his phone out of the pocket of the quilted jacket he wore underneath. He quickly tugged his gloves off to unlock his phone.
He took pictures of the lake, frozen over with sparse trees peppering the snowy banks. He took pictures of the white park stretching out beyond the lake, tall skyscrapers turned ashy gray in the distance. He took pictures of the apartment buildings, their cream walls covered in graffiti darker under the gray sky, but the bright lights pouring out of the windows creating a cozy atmosphere.
Maybe if Damian was still practicing landscapes, he could print out the photos for him to paint.
“Are you about done?” Jason asked.
Tim jumped and almost dropped his phone in surprise. “Jesus, Jason, don’t scare people like that,” he snapped, trying to calm his racing heart.
“I’ll scare you if it means we get to hurry up,” Jason snapped, approaching Tim with long strides. “I’m not risking getting blown up today with Firefly on the loose.”
They were on the edge of Crime Alley and Tim was only seventy percent sure there was a bank in the area.
“Hold on a sec,” he called to Jason. “Just a few more pictures. I haven’t gotten around to taking any in a while.”
And he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it. He was going to have to start carrying his camera around wherever he went again. Granted, he’d been going through a lot of things and his motivation had reached rock bottom and had started digging.
Tim raced off to the end of the bridge and stepped off the sidewalk and into the snow-covered underbrush, trying to avoid brushing past them and getting his jeans wet with snow.
“What are you doing?” Jason called, still standing in the middle of the bridge.
Tim stared at him, bemused. “Getting a picture,” he said, waving his phone to prove his point.
Jason rolled his eyes and leaned his elbows on the railing. “Fine.”
Tim made his way down the small hill leading to the bank and made his way away from the bridge. He tried to capture a good angle but none of them worked exactly the way he wanted.
Jason was still staring down at him, looking bored.
Tim eyed the ice. There was a thick layer of snow covering it, which meant he had less of a chance of slipping. A few days ago the temperature had fallen well past negative ten. The ice had to be thick enough to hold Tim’s weight. He tapped the heel of his boot against the ice and took a hesitant step when he didn’t hear a crack.
The first few steps were tentative, but he grew in confidence the further he went.
“Tim?” Jason called.
Tim looked up to see that Jason had gone from idly bored to worried and angry. It was kind of funny when he was bundled up in a puffy white jacket with an eggshell blue scarf around his neck. He kind of looked like an angry version of the Michelin man.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snapped. “Get the hell off the ice, you dumbass.”
“I’m taking a picture of the bridge!” Tim called back. “The ice can hold my weight!”
“Did I ask if the ice could hold your weight? No! I asked you to get the fuck off of it!”
Tim stopped in the middle of the lake and started slowly backing away to get both ends of the bridge in the shot.
He stepped on thinner snow and slipped, his phone flying out of his hands and his head hit the ice with crack and spots exploded across his vision. He half hoped the crack had been the ice and not his skull.
Though he was in enough pain that he was starting to think it might be the latter.
Once the ringing in his head subsided after a couple of seconds, he became aware of a voice calling his name. Right. Jason.
“Replacement!”
Tim looked up at the railing, assuming Jason was still on the bridge, fully expecting to be met with his scowling face staring down at him but only saw the railing and empty sky above it.
“Replacement, I swear to God if you make me walk on ice to get you I will strip your bones of your skin and muscles.”
Jason’s voice wasn’t coming from above him, he realized.
Tim tried to get up but only managed an undignified flop. Jason was standing on the edge of the icy lake, his face twisted in a look of almost worry. The tension in his shoulders eased away slowly when he saw Tim move.
“Hey. Tim. Timmy. Can you get up?”
Tim struggled to sit up. “Not yet,” he groaned, closing his eyes as his head spun.
“Good news, then,” Jason said. “You won’t have to.”
Tim sent Jason an incredulous look and Jason scowled.
“Don’t give me that,” he snapped. “Listen to me. Don’t stand up. Crawl on the ice.”
When Tim shot him another darker look, Jason rolled his eyes.
“It’s either a little bit of embarrassment or hypothermia, kid. Don’t be an idiot no matter how tempting it is.”
Tim glared at him and pushed himself to his feet when his head stopped spinning like a merry-go-round.
“I’ll be fine,” Tim said, keeping the waver out of his voice. “I’ve walked on icy ponds before.”
Jason glared at him from the shore. “Your full weight fell on the ice. If you fall through, I’m not saving you because you decided to be an idiot.”
Tim scowled. “It can handle my weight,” he said.
Jason made a frustrated sound. “No one’s around to make fun of you. And the roads are frozen over, which means there’s no one around to get us to a hospital if you fall through.”
Tim ignored Jason’s comments and inched forward slightly. The ice creaked ominously, but with the thick layer of snow, Tim couldn’t see if it was cracked. It hadn’t cracked where he’d landed, so he was hopeful.
Jason was standing on the bank, arms crossed tightly over his chest and face pulled in a sour expression.
“Just crawl, it’s not gonna kill you,” Jason repeated. “That, however, could.”
Tim inched forward again, his foot tapping the ice in front of him to test how sturdy it was.
He stepped forward again and froze when he heard a resounding crack.
“Replacement,” Jason said in a low voice, body tense. “Now are you gonna do what I told you?”
Shakily, Tim slowly lowered himself on his knees. So maybe the ice wasn’t as sturdy as he originally thought. He would be fine.
Just as he placed his hands on the freezing surface of the ice, it cracked again. Before Tim could even register the loud cracking of the ice, it splintered and he fell through with a surprised gasp before everything became white. He heard Jason shout his name as thousands of icy needles of freezing water stung every part of his body.
He was fully submerged and the world went from frigid blue sky to half-frozen green waters.
The world was a blur of white and murky green, little bubbles floating past Tim’s eyes and up towards the surface. The freezing water already numbing his skin.
He was struggling furiously, trying to find his way to the surface past pieces of broken ice. He hadn’t been able to take in a breath-- the shock of the freezing water had been too jarring for him to properly think of anything other than the cold swallowing him whole. There was water in his lungs that he’d accidentally swallowed but couldn’t cough up without ingesting even more.
He reached the surface-- his fingers brushed past the sheet of ice over the icy lake. He pounded, his vision dimming and his movements sluggish as the cold led way to a spreading numbness.
He had to find the hole in the ice. He had to get out. He had to breathe.
Jason was out there.
He slammed his fist into the ice in sheer desperation. There wasn’t any more time for him to find the hole he’d fallen through.
Would Jason be able to get on the ice without falling through, too?
He slammed his fist again in the same spot but the hit didn’t have any force to it this time. He was running out of air and was pounding incessantly against the ice, lungs burning for air. He opened his mouth to breathe only to get a mouthful of muddy water and choking. He coughed and tried to close his mouth again, but he was already choking on water. The more his body tried to cough up the water he kept swallowing, the more he accidentally inhaled.
He coughed until his ribs ached and his vision was starting to fuzz out around the edges and black spots danced in front of his eyes as he felt himself sink further into the murky depths.
The light became fainter and he was still choking on water as he sunk further and further into the lake.
Distantly, he heard a loud crack and splashes before something grabbed the front of his parka and tugged him upwards. The sudden movement made him dizzy and lightheaded. It wasn’t long before everything went dark and the burning cold sinking into his skin disappeared.
Tim tried to breathe but something was blocking his airways. He rolled over and started coughing and spitting out water. The crisp winter air burned as he breathed it in greedily. He coughed and dry-heaved and blearily felt a hand on his back to support him.
“--fine,” a voice-- Jason?-- said. “You’re fine, baby bird.”
He collapsed on the frozen bank, shivering and coughing weakly. His body was burning. He was much too hot in his wet parka and damp scarf. When he reached to unzip the parka, hands grabbed his wrists to stop him. He struggled weakly, but he was sopping wet and far too exhausted to do much of anything against Jason.
Snow crunched when Jason knelt next to Tim’s head. He turned his head and blinked up at Jason. Everything was still vaguely blurry no matter how many times he blinked and Jason’s face was too far away from him to make out the expression on his face.
“Kid? You with me? Dickbird wants to say hi.”
Tim blinked and frowned at the small black device in Jason’s hand. A phone? His comm? Jason held it up in front of Tim’s face as he tried to get his voice to work.
“Hi,” he croaked out, his voice so gravelly and hoarse he rivaled Batman’s growl.
“Hi Timmy,” Dick said faintly, the static grating against Tim’s ears. He winced. “A little bird told me you went for a swim.”
Tim hummed. “Too hot,” he muttered as another shiver shook his body. “Sleep.”
Jason tapped his cheek with his gloved hand. The cold of the fabric was a relief against his burning skin.
“No sleeping,” he warned.
Tim moaned, but it choked off into a whimper. His throat hurt when he made a sound, and it hurt when he tried to swallow. It tried to throw something up every time he swallowed.
“Tim,” Jason said. “Tim, calm down.”
Tim couldn’t. His throat hurt every time he breathed. His chest still felt tight and constricted, making breathing even more difficult and-- and he was panicking. Because it hurt. Because his whole body hurt. He was burning up and the more he tried to shake off whatever layers that were burning his skin, the more force Jason used to keep him in place.
“Timbo, tell me what’s wrong,” Jason asked.
Tim’s ears were still ringing faintly.
“Hot,” he rasped, his breathing shallow and bordering on sobs. It hurt too much. “‘M too hot. ‘S burning.”
“It’s-- oh,” Dick said.
There was a warm hand-- too warm, too warm-- that carded through his wet hair gently. Tim was breathing shakily when the first tears slipped free and rolled down his temples.
“--onset of hypothermia,” Jason was saying. “You need to get here.”
Jason sounded panicked. It must be because of Tim. He sniffled pitifully.
“M’phone,” he mumbled, voice thick from the tears. “Wh’re’s--”
“Probably at the bottom of the lake, baby bird,” Jason said in a voice that was so soft and gentle. He never used that voice with Tim.
Tim whined. “No, my--”
He coughed and gagged some more and Jason had to roll him onto his side as he kept coughing until white spots blinked in front of his eyes and his ribs ached.
“--ick I don’t care about traffic or safety, the kid is dying.”
Tim heaved deep gasping breaths as his vision fuzzed out around the edges. He couldn’t breathe. He gasped on empty air, hands reaching for Jason’s weakly, an apology on his lips before he slipped under once again.
Something warm was pressing against his cheek. It was too warm against his skin. It hurt. He winced and tried to turn his head to the side, but his body felt too heavy for even such a simple task.
“Kid?” a muffled voice asked, almost as if he were still underwater. No, that wasn’t right. He was numb, he could breathe . “Replacement,” the voice snapped again.
Tim groaned at the sharp tone.
“Dick is coming,” the voice went on, still muffled and distant.
Something warm was wrapped around him and he went from numb and cold to suffocating and burning. It stung his skin and he immediately tried to twist out of it. His tongue was thick and useless, refusing to coherently ask the person to stop hurting him.
“Come on, kid. Talk to me. Dickie’s gonna take at least ten minutes to reach us, and you need to warm up.”
He felt tears in his eyes and a lump in his throat. “H’rts,” he mumbled through numb lips. “Jay--”
Yes, that was right. He remembered. He was with Jason. He was with his brother he was safe. The burning thing wrapped around him was still there. Jason… Jason wouldn’t hurt him.
“Kid, I can’t-- I’m not taking this off,” Jason said. “You’re going to die if I do.”
Tim tried shaking his head, saying something, doing something, but his body was numb and his mind was scattered and not quite there.
“Don’t you dare die on me, Replacement,” Jason growled.
But Jason didn’t like Tim. Why would he care if he lived or if he died? He’d snuck into Titans Tower and beat him nearly to death. He’d lost enough blood-- blood that Jason had used to write his name in on a wall-- that he’d almost gone into hemorrhagic shock. It wasn’t like that stopped him from making further attempts on his life afterward. Jason wouldn’t care if he died.
No.
No, that was wrong. He would care. Tim-- Tim was missing something. He was-- he wasn’t at the Manor. He was outside. It was snowing. But he was hot. He was burning with a fever and Jason was there and he wasn’t-- he wasn’t in his Red Hood costume.
Thinking made his throbbing headache spike. He gasped in pain and tried to twist away, but Jason’s gentle grip was still strong enough to keep him from moving too much.
“No,” he mumbled. “Won’t.”
Jason grinned. He looked worried, despite that. For Tim?
“You’d better not. The tiny monster will impale me if I let you die.”
Tim shifted weakly under the pile of warmth pressing down on him. “‘Kay. ‘L try not to.”
“You have hypothermia,” Jason went on, his fragile smile fading. “It’s-- it’s bad. That’s why you’re feeling too hot. But I can assure you that you’re not. I had to fish your skinny ass from drowning.”
Tim closed his eyes. Even that took too much effort. He was trying his best to stay conscious, but it was getting harder with each passing minute.
“‘N pins ‘n needles,” he mumbled.
His lips were numb and his hands and feet were numb, but the rest of his body was burning hot and his arms and legs were attacked with pins and needles.
“What?” Jason asked frantically.
Jason swore under his breath-- too faint for Tim’s ringing ears to hear.
“Fuck it,” he snapped and Tim felt arms under his knees and behind his back jerking him up.
The movement made his head spin again and he moaned, burying his face in Jason’s chest.
“Stop,” he sobbed. “J’st stop. Please. Hurts.”
The grip tightened. “I know. I’m sorry, Baby Bird. I have to get you back to the bridge so that Dick can get you to Leslie’s.”
“Ls’lie?” Tim asked. “Why? ‘M fine. Just sleepy.”
Jason didn’t say anything. Or maybe Tim didn’t hear what he said. He wasn’t sure he was fully conscious anymore. More like in and out of unconsciousness. Every step jostled Tim and sometimes made him cough what he suspected might be water still clogged up in his lungs.
Maybe dying wasn’t so bad if it meant the neverending pain would end.
No. No, he couldn’t think like that.
But everything was fading, and everything was quiet, and his body didn’t hurt anymore.
“‘M so tired,” he mumbled against the puffy jacket. “Sorry Jay.”
The world was once again swallowed up by black, except this time, Tim melted into it s everything vanished.
Tim came back to consciousness in bits and flashes.
The first time, he didn’t open his eyes. Loud beeping and frantic voices was shouting and his chest hurt as if an anvil was pressing down on it. He wanted to move, to get up, to curl in on himself and force the horrible pain in his chest to end.
His fingers jerked as if he'd been shocked with electricity.
He thought he heard Jason shouting before the world was swept out from under his feet.
The second time, he woke up for a few minutes, he estimated.
He still couldn’t open his eyes, or move any part of his body. He was starting to panic a little and heard beeping growing louder and faster, but Jason’s voice calmed him down soon enough.
He wasn’t alone. Jason was here, Tim would be fine. Tim was alive.
Jason was reading something out loud. Probably a book. Tim didn’t recognize it.
This time, he sunk in unconsciousness more peacefully than the previous times.
Tim finally opened his eyes the third time he came too, though moving his limbs was like moving through molasses and he quickly gave up.
He was fine with just being able to take in his surroundings.
He was alone this time. Laying in a hospital bed, probably in Leslie’s clinic, staring up at a white ceiling, the lights around him dimmed enough that his headache wasn’t made worse by the painfully bright hospital lights.
The door quietly opened and Dick stepped into the room, holding a Starbucks cup and a brown paper bag.
He softly shut the door and turned around, his eyes widening before softening when he saw that Tim was awake. It didn’t fool him; he could still see the dark shadows under Dick’s eyes and the tension in his shoulders.
“Hi Timmy,” he said softly, taking a seat on one of the numerous hospital chairs surrounding his bed.
Dick set his cup and bag down on the table next to the bed and slid his warm, warm hand in Tim’s cold one. It sent an uncomfortable shock through Tim’s nerves and he inhaled sharply.
Dick’s smile tensed, but he still reached over and brushed Tim’s bangs out of his face. Tim tried to open his mouth to speak, but it felt s if his muscles were locked in place and it took too much effort to move them. He was already feeling exhaustion creeping back in.
“You’ll be fine,” Dick reassured gently. “Bruce and Alfred managed to convince Jason to go home and rest. The others have been in and out of your room to check on you.”
Tim’s eyelids started drooping quickly enough.
“You’ve been here a day and a half, by the way,” Dick said. “Leslie said the exhaustion was normal.”
Tim smiled at Dick and relaxed back into his pillows, too tired and wrung out to stay awake longer. He owed Jason an apology. He’d been supposed to help him get a dresser back to his apartment.
Tim twisted the soft sheets. They were thin but still too warm for Tim’s body, despite the shivers wracking his body. He was shivering, but too many blankets made his skin burn up uncomfortably. He decided he hated hypothermia.
This time, Tim had woken up in his own room, shivering, sore all over, and dehydrated. There had been a cup of water on his bedside table that he’d almost dropped when he tried to pick it up with shaking fingers.
His limbs were stiff and he wished he had the energy to get out of bed and search for a thicker and warmer blanket than the one he’d been given.
The bedroom door creaked open and Tim’s eyes snapped up and latched onto Jason’s form entering the room. There were deep bags under his eyes and he looked even more tired than Dick had, the other day at Leslie’s clinic.
Jason’s shoulders sagged when he spotted Tim, awake and sitting up in bed with his cup of water half empty and propped in his lap.
“Tim,” Jason exhaled and stumbled over to the bed.
He sat heavily on the bed, his eyes relieved and his lips tight with frustration.
“If you scare me like that again, I swear to all the gods I don’t believe in that I will let you die. What the hell is wrong with you? Taking a picture on the fucking ice? You absolute fucking dumbass.”
Jason swiped at his eyes quickly and Tim opened and closed his mouth several times, searching for the right words. A simple ‘sorry’ didn’t feel right. But neither did admitting Jason was right.
“I’ll admit,” Tim said, his voice hoarse and cracking halfway through the sentence. “I probably didn’t think it through very well.”
Jason scoffed and Tim’s frame was wracked with another shudder.
“What do you need?” Jason asked, sobering immediately.
Tim glanced at him, heat rising up his neck. “A hug?”
Tim was freezing. But his body needed to readjust to warmth slowly, which meant he was only allowed a limited amount of blankets, and that amount was not enough.
Jason picked up Tim’s glass of water and set it down on the table before repositioning himself so that he was sitting directly next to Tim.
“Sorry about that,” Jason said, wrapping himself around Tim. “Leslie told us your body needed to slowly readjust to warm temperatures.”
Jason was warm and Tim was falling back asleep again. He hummed in reply. Jason was warm and Tim relished in that.
The bedroom door opened again and Tim almost jumped out of his skin at the small sound.
“Tim,” Steph said.
She was standing in the doorway, her sketchbook and a pencil case in her hands. Her face broke out into a wide grin.
“You’re awake!” she said. “Perfect. Now I can start mocking you for getting hypothermia because you wanted to take a picture.”
Jason laughed and Tim whined.
“I almost died!” he snapped. “And you guys are mocking me.”
Steph poked Tim’s cheek. “We’re mocking you for being an idiot. You deserve it. Move over.”
Jason pulled Tim with him and they made room for Steph to climb on the bed with them and pull Tim in her arms.
“I should get hypothermia more often if it means free hugs,” Tim muttered, eyelids fluttering
Steph pinched his arm. “I will skin you alive if you do.”
“I’ll film.” Jason yawned.
Tim humphed and melted into their warmth. It felt unbelievably nice to finally feel warm again. Maybe he could even get Dick to cuddle him like this, too.
“D’you think Alfred’ll make us hot chocolate?”
Jason hummed. “Maybe. Now sleep. None of us have slept well because of you.”
With both of his arms trapped, one by Steph and the other by Jason, there wasn’t anywhere Tim could go. He didn’t mind. He didn’t feel like being alone, and they were both warm enough to make up for the cold temperature of the room. Or maybe just the cold temperature of his body. Tim wasn’t sure. He relaxed into the pillow and ignored the pins and needles in his fingertips from the sudden wave of warmth.