Work Text:
Falling Apart
Currently Tim is running off spite and two cans of Red Bull that he downed two hours before patrol.
'This injury could not come at a more inconvenient time.' He thinks as he clenches his teeth in pain.
The stab wound to his right side seems to beat in rhythm with his heart as he swings his feet over the motorbike's leather seat.
Sending a shock of pain up his body as he leans forward and starts the bike. The thrum of the engine distracts him slightly as he peels out of the dimly lit street he was parked in and as he makes his way to his destination. He is completely unaware of his surroundings as he weaves in and out of cars, speeding down the road. His only clear goal is to get somewhere safe and stitch up his wound, to stop the pain that lives in his body, festering in the stab wound.
He doesn't even realize that he has driven all the way to the Cave, passing thoughtlessly through the Cave's waterfall entrance and sloppily stopping the bike, wonky alongside the rest of the vehicles.
He stiffly dismounts the bike, letting out a small whimper of pain as he slides over the bike. 'Huh, it seems that my legs have gone numb.'
He grips onto the bike, steadying himself for a moment as pins and needles race up and down his legs before starting to move.
He makes his way away from the bike walking much like a baby duck as he makes his way over to the medical equipment, he thinks he can hear voices. They get closer and closer by the second.
"Tim."
A low voice calls out, far away and distant. He tries to lift up his head and look in the direction of the sound but when he tries, he is unsuccessful, his head flopping back down like a puppet with its strings cut.
"Tim." A different voice calls, closer but still far away "What's wrong, you don't really come to the Cave nowadays. Did something happen on patrol?"
'Huh, that voice sounds like Dick.' Tim thinks but he doesn't have the energy to ponder that thought or to respond to the pestering people, instead allowing his feet to carry him on auto-pilot to the med bay. His drive to get the knife out of his side is much heavier than his drive that wants to figure out what is going on and who is talking to him. The voices seem to follow him as he searches through the medical equipment for the right equipment. He doesn't bother listening as he starts to look, pulling open small drawers and opening metal cabinets as he looks.
He needs stitches and antibiotics, quickly. Thankfully the knife was still firmly lodged into his side, twinging uncomfortable as he shifts around. His fingers remembering where the equipment is purely on muscle memory, pulling open the drawer to lift out a small single use Suturing Kit. His fingers shaking as he sets it down onto a small metal tray before flopping down himself onto the stiff metal bench, padded by a purple hand stitched pillow.
His hands move to lift up the top half of his suit, barely wincing as he looks down onto his chest that was littered with old scars and a wide array of bruises all in different stages of healing, the biggest an old angry purple bruise covers his upper chest. A reminder of the last time he was kidnapped, held captive by Two Face for five days until he finally escaped. It was not a fun experience and his back still aches from being caged in a shipping container in the hours he wasn't being used as a play dummy for Two Face and his goons.
When he finally pulls the top part of his suit up fully, he hears a loud gasp and a low accented voice swearing quickly "What the fuck." But the voice still is far away so Tim doesn't really care.
He starts to move aiming to pull the knife out of the side when he is stopped by a large pair of hands strongly grasping his hands and pulling them swiftly away from the knife, leaving it still lodged in Tim's side.
"Tim! What are you doing?” Someone shouts and he winces. The voice is loud now, the person seems to scream directly into his ears.
He blinks up, looking straight into the cold blue eyes of Bruce.
'Wait, what's Bruce doing here?' He thinks looking around surprised to find that his not in his nest but in the BatCave, in the Bat Cave's Med Bay to be specific, the smell of strong antiseptic rushes to his nose and he feels the strong urge to throw, he quells the urge instead ripping his eyes away from Bruce's angry expression instead averting his eyes to the large hand still firmly grasping his own.
"Oh, sorry." He mumbles his voice rasping as he wretches his hands out of Bruce's grasp "I just need to stitch this up and then I'll be out of your hair."
Hopefully Bruce doesn't turn him away right now, it would be painful to drive back into Gotham with his wound
"Tim, what. No." Bruce starts, his voice serious. "What happened? Did you seriously drive all the way here with a stab wound?"
"Obviously." Tim replies, his tone matter of fact like.
"Why didn't you comm in for an assist?"
Tim hums for a second before answering "I just didn't think about it. Sorry." He pauses for a moment before adding on "I didn't plan to come here anyway, I was going to sort it out at my apartment, sorry."
A silence falls over the med bay as Tim looks up and realizes that there is other people crowding round the bench he's sitting on; Alfred, Dick, Jason and hell, even Damian is here all staring at Tim with wide eyes.
"So. Can I stitch this up?" He mumbles feeling suddenly like a bug under a microscope all of a sudden.
Alfred seems to break out of his stillness first, bursting into action and sound. "Would you like a hand Master Timothy. It may not be smart to take that out by yourself."
"No, no. It's fine. Go back to whatever you were doing Alfred, it's an easy fix. Nothing I haven't done before." He smiles weakly up at the older man, the world going black for a moment as he looks back down at the wound.
"Boys, would you all go up to the manor. I need to talk to Tim." Bruce asks, his voice cold and Tim feels even colder than he already was. Bruce's tone is not pleased, not pleased at all.
The three move to exit the room, Damian not even daring to argue with Bruce's no argument tone that he normally saves for patrol and Tim barely contains a full body flinch at the pitying look that Dick throws over his shoulder. Fuck he is so screwed.
"Tim." The use of his name causes him to divert his gaze to Bruce. "Alfred and I are going to stitch up your wound and we will talk about this tomorrow. Okay."
Tim should argue, he really should but he is so, so tired. His bones seem to sink to the floor and his eyes slide shut as he mumbles out his response.
"Okay." He nods quickly, moving further down into the metal bench as Bruce and Alfred move to stitch up his wound.
The pair seem to talk over him as they care for his wound, Alfred working on disinfecting the area of the wound as Bruce rummages around for pain medication, handing it over wordlessly to Tim. He isn't handed any water so Tim swallows the dry, they land heavily in his empty stomach and he starts to regret skipping dinner.
Bruce moves to pull up a metal chair that squeaks loudly in the Med Bay, stationing it directly in front of Tim.
He then sits down into it with a heavy thump before reaching and grabbing the needle from the suturing kit before threading the needle.
"Let me know if you need me to go slower or if you just need to take a break okay, Tim?" Bruce questions.
"Sure." Tim mumbles quietly in reply, moving to tuck his hands under his thighs as Bruce inches the needle closer.
He is a bit anxious, no one has helped him stitch his wounds in over three months not since that last major Titans mission where he had got shot with an energy gun that ripped a hole in an upper hole, he still remembers Kon's hands holding his as Cassie stitched him up in the aftermath of the fight. He knows that there will be no soft or comforting touches now, not with the still silence of Alfred and the angry look that ghosts over Bruce's face as he moves to pull the knife out of his side and insert the needle into his flesh.
Bruce pulls the knife out in one smooth motion, setting it down onto the mental trolley while Tim lets out a small wounded noise.
"Shhh, it's okay. You're okay. You'll be okay." Bruce comforts quickly and Tim has to grind his teeth together at the false comfort. "Alfred can you take that knife and ensure it isn't coated with any slow acting poisons?"
Tim moves to interject when Alfred replies "Of course Master Bruce. I trust that Master Timothy is in your capable hands."
Alfred grads the blood soaked knife tightly and moves away from the Med Bay towards the Bat Computer's analyst machines.
"It's not coated, I was just sloppy tonight. It wasn't like a League assassin got me, it was just some regular thug." Tim rambles as Bruce starts to close up the cut.
"It's always better to just be sure Tim." Bruce replies before adding on "You get attacked by assassin's often." He comments," lightly
"No, not in a while." Tim comments before joking "Though Ra's did remember my birthday, he even sent me a birthday card."
Bruce doesn't reply, his face going cold and angry, as Tim realizes what he just said.
The pair fall into an awkward silence as Bruce continues to stitch up the wound, the previous comment hanging heavily over them.
The silence is broken as Bruce finishes up his stitches calling his name "Tim, do you have any other injuries that I need to know about." Bruce's eyes looking at the large, nearly fading bruise on his chest.
"No, nothing from tonight."
What's that bruise from then? Looks old." Bruce asks.
Tim shifts uncomfortably on the bench, not really wanting to admit that he had been held hostage and no one had noticed.
"Had a run in with Two Face, it wasn't fun." Tim responds, a neutral response. Hopefully Bruce doesn't pry any further.
Bruce only hums moving to dress and wrap the stitches. The bandage wraps around his torso and his side aches when Bruce passes it over. Fuck, maybe he fractured a rib or three.
Every observant Bruce comments "Tim I think you have a fractured rib."
"Yeah me too." Tim replies "I didn't even notice they were sore until then."
"It's a good job we spotted them, we'll run a scan real quick to check the damage and then you should be free to go rest." Bruce replies, moving to wash his hands and set up the right equipment.
"Okay."
The scan is done in near silence, the beeping of the machines filling the room as Bruce scans a large metal stick over Tim's upper left abdomen.
Alfred has come back into the room carrying with him a tray of steaming mugs of tea and a plate of sandwiches, the look of them makes Tim's stomach grumble loudly. He smiles sheepishly at Alfred.
Bruce is working on transferring the images onto a nearby screen and pulling them up to see the damage.
Tim stills from where he is picking at the skin around his thumbs, his body going cold as he sees the scans of his fractured ribs and of the empty place where his spleen should be.
"Fuck." He mutters out loud. He has really messed this up, no one was meant to know. No one was meant to know that he had lost his spleen. He can feel his breath get harsher and his eyes seem to burn as he does everything to avoid Bruce's eye.
"Tim." Bruce's voice is alarmed as he asks his questions "Where is your spleen?"
He can't breathe and he can't respond. He looks over to Alfred pleading but the old butler doesn't give any sympathy, instead he has set down his tray of finger sandwiches and moves to loom at the scan currently displayed.
"Gone." Tim manages to grit out before simultaneously slamming his mouth and eyes shut, the urge to cry so big that he can't do anything but grind his hands into his eyes.
He can hear Alfred moving, presumably to stand beside Bruce. "Master Bruce, may I suggest that we save questioning Master Timothy until he is in a state that can actually answer our questions."
Bruce can barely respond when Tim blurts out a reply, body shaking with every word.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want anyone to find out. I have it handled. Really I do. I take my antibiotics regularly and I always make sure to care for every single injury. I didn't want to bother you with this, especially with you only coming back so recently." Tim pauses for a moment, Bruce would blame himself for this and Dick too but really it's Tim's own fault.
He continues on
"B, you have to believe it was my fault that I lost it in the first place, I'm just trying to take responsibility. I shouldn't have worked with the league in the first place but I was desperate and no one else would believe me." He pleads.
"Ra's Al Ghul took your spleen?" A new voice calls out. Jason and Tim look up through tears to see three new figures standing near the med bay. "That's seriously fucked up."
"Yeah, I guess he did. He only had it removed because I was stabbed while searching for clues about Bruce in the desert and we were ambushed by the Widower, a master assassin. Also I wouldn't have survived without the surgery. It wasn't nice waking up right beside a Lazarus Pit though."
"Why were you working with Grandfather in the first place Drake, are you even dumber than I first presumed?" Damian questions, his tone biting as usual.
"Damian. Don't talk to Tim like that." Bruce scolds. Damian only scowls in response.
Tim really doesn't want to talk about this anymore which is why he picks this moment in specific to pass out, the days without sleep, the stab wound and his fractured ribs all catching up on him at once.
Tim can hear someone pacing, the sound of trainers padding up and down the hardwood floor. Hard wood? That's strange, Tim thought he was in the Med Bay. He peels his eyes open to see the red canopy of his manor bed, the mattress soft under his back as he stretches. The sound of his cracking back muscles must alert Dick to the fact that he is awake as he whirls around and moves over to his bed side.
"Tim!" He says loudly "You're awake. Hold on, I'm going to call for Alfred, okay." Dick moves quickly, sticking his head out of the bedroom door and screaming down the corridor loudly for Alfred.
"He should be here soon. I'm so glad you're up. Dr Leslie said you could stay asleep for two weeks but I didn't think you would sleep that long. You're too stubborn for that."
Tim feels disoriented, Dick's friendly demeanor confusing him. Has he fallen into an alternate dimension where Dick actually cares about him and doesn't just see him as an obligation who thrust himself upon him and his family.
"Dick. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with Damian?"
Dick's face falls before he replies "Do you not want me to get here? I can go if it'll make you more comfortable but I should wait until Alfred gets here."
"No, no. Don't go. Please." He pleads willing to spend every second in Dick's presence, longing for the older man to treat him like he used to before Jason came back. He continues on "I'm just confused. You don't really check on me nowadays, especially since I've taken up Red Robin."
"And for that I'm sorry Tim." Is all Dick is able to get up when Bruce and Alfred burst through the door.
"Master Timothy, you're awake. What a pleasant surprise."
"Yeah. I'm sorry, I can't remember what happened. I remember being stabbed on patrol but I thought I stitched it up back at my nest. So what am I doing here?" Tim replies.
It's Bruce that answers his questions, "You came to the Cave instead of your nest, I don't think you were conscious while deciding to come here but we found you with a knife sticking out of your side so I helped you stitch it up and bind up your fractured ribs."
"Oh thanks. Dick said something about Dr Leslie, what was she doing here. It was just a stab wound."
"The good doctor was called in after we discovered that you do not have a spleen and we wanted to reduce your risk of becoming infected and developing Sepsis Shock." Bruce replies rather calmly, moving to sit beside Tim on the bed and brush his unwashed bangs out of his face before kissing his forehead "I am just glad that we were able to help you when we could." He murmurs into Tim's forehead.
"I'm just sorry you found out at all." Tim replies, chuckling self depreciation clear in his tone as Bruce moves away from leaning over Tim's forehead.
"Tim, you should have told us sooner. Your medical records didn't even include it. You can't withhold medical information like this, it's dangerous especially in this line of work. If I didn't choose to scan your ribs we wouldn't have none and we wouldn't have been able to help you if your wound became infected."
"I'm sorry, it was so hectic after you returned to the manor. I forgot to put it in."
Dick scoffs "You forgot. Don't lie Tim. You don't trust us and I understand that okay. I messed up while Bruce was gone, I didn't take you seriously but do you seriously not trust Bruce or Alfred or Cass with this information, it's important."
Tim blinks, confused by the accusations. He didn't trust the bats of course he did. He always would no matter what he did he would put his life on the line for any one of them even Damian.
"I'm sorry. I do trust you Dick, I trust all of you. It just didn't seem important to me that I include that in my medical reports." Tim answers before whispering out "I didn't think you would care."
"Of course we care, son."
"You didn't care when I was kidnapped and taken by Two Face for five days. No one even noticed." He blurts out, his face turns red with embarrassment. Why, why did he say that. They don't have to care, Tim isn't their family. Not really and they shouldn't act like he is.
"Tim. When was this?”
"It was a week ago from when I got stabbed. It isn't a big deal, forget I even mentioned it."
"Timmy. I'm sorry no one came for you. You've been so distanced lately, I was just trying to give you space and everyone seemed to follow after me. I should have come to you earlier, I care about you Tim. You're my baby brother." Dick replied.
"Thank you for saying that but seriously you all don't have to act like you care about me. I don't need your false sympathy and your fake pith. Okay."
"Tim, I do care about you. You're my son. I will always care about you." Bruce's eyes are filled with tears as he wraps his arms around Tim's frame. "I don't know what you don't think that but I will work every day to prove to you that I care so deeply about you.You are my son"
Tim buries his head into Bruce's shoulder as he cries, his strained relationship with Bruce falling apart all around him as the sobs wreck his body.