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Jason knew it was going to be a bad day as soon as he woke up covered in sweat.
His entire body was throbbing. His knee and hip joints felt like they were being repeatedly stabbed by shards of glass. It was made worse by his near-constant shivering, as if his body had missed the memo that it was June.
His first instinct was to close his eyes and retreat back into unconsciousness. If this was how the real world was going to treat him, then he wanted nothing to do with it.
Too bad his stupid bladder demanded otherwise.
He forced himself to dangle his legs over the edge of his bed. The meager movement alone was enough to leave him breathless. Still curled up beside him, Elinor whined in worry.
“I’m fine, Ellie,” he assured, then winced at how hoarse his voice sounded. His throat was just as sore as the rest of him.
His service dog was not convinced. She hopped off the bed with ease that Jason was jealous of and sat down in front of him, her eyes never leaving her charge.
“Cane, please,” he rasped. He didn’t keep his cane at his bedside anymore. After almost a year of intense physical therapy, he was usually able to at least make it to the bathroom and back unassisted.
But not today.
Ellie obediently retrieved Jason’s cane from its place beside the dresser. He rubbed her ears in thanks and accepted the mobility aid.
Now came the very not fun part.
The moan he let out when he pushed himself to stand was downright embarrassing.
“One step at a time,” Jason muttered to himself as he slowly made his way to his bathroom. He’d never been so thankful in his life for Bruce’s overprotectiveness. If he’d had to go down the hall, he would seriously have considered peeing in his trashcan.
Ellie closely supervised him the entire journey, occasionally moving things out of the way to give him more space. When they were close enough, she pushed the door wide open for him.
Jason didn’t bother turning on the lights. His head was already starting to hurt. The last thing he needed was a full-blown migraine on top of everything else.
He had just finished relieving himself when a sharp twinge of pain shot up and down his leg. His knee gave out, leaving him unable to remain standing even with the assistance of his cane.
Elinor acted quickly. She moved to Jason’s side and braced him, helping him slide down to the floor in a slow, controlled manner.
He propped himself up against the wall. His entire body was lit up in a freezing, fiery pain. He wanted nothing more than to curl up back in his bed, but there was no way he could get off the floor by himself. The feeling of helplessness was so overwhelming, tears of frustration began to gather behind his eyes.
“Ellie, phone,” he instructed, taking a shaky breath to steady himself.
The collie left the bathroom and reappeared half a minute later with Jason’s cellphone gripped gently in her mouth. She dropped it in his waiting hand before draping herself across his lap. The pressure from her warm body helped mitigate his shivering a bit. He was extremely grateful for it.
"Good girl," he praised, running his hand along her back.
Now, he needed to call for help. Alfred was in England for his annual leave, and Bruce had been forced to leave the country the previous evening for a League mission. So, desperate and out of all other options, Dick had been called in as backup.
According to his phone, it was only 7:30 in the morning. There was no way either of his brothers were awake at the moment. He just hoped Dick had left his ringer on. Otherwise, he would have to send Elinor to go wake him up, and he really didn’t want to be alone.
Thankfully, his big brother answered before the second ring, though his voice betrayed his somnolence. “Jay?”
“Dickie,” he croaked, sounding absolutely pathetic. “I, uh, need some help.”
“Is something wrong?” Dick demanded, suddenly sounding much more awake. There was some loud shuffling on the other end as his brother got out of bed.
Jason winced at the volume. It seemed to pierce directly into his skull. “I’m on my bathroom floor. I can’t get up. Think I’m sick.”
“All right, Little Wing. I’m on my way. Just hang tight.”
True to his word, Dick entered the dimly lit bathroom less than a minute later. His hair was sticking up in every direction, his eyes crusted with sleep.
He knelt down at his little brother’s side. “Hey, kiddo, you don’t look so good,” he observed, reaching up to brush Jason’s sweat-drenched bangs away from his face.
“I feel bad,” he admitted brokenly. “My leg locked up. I woulda fallen if Ellie hadn’t helped me down.”
Dick reached up and rubbed between the dog’s ears. “Good girl. Uncle Dickie’s gonna get you a treat after we get Little Wing back in bed.”
Elinor wagged her tail in excitement.
Jason braced himself as his big brother slid an arm around his torso. Then, he allowed Dick to slowly lift him up to his feet.
“Can you walk with my help?” Dick asked. Jason attempted to put weight on his right leg, but it simply buckled beneath him. The eldest Wayne took that as his cue to scoop up his little brother into his arms. Jason would have been embarrassed if he didn't feel so bad. “Guess that answers that.”
He carried Jason back into the bedroom and laid him gently on his bed. Elinor quickly followed, curling into Jason’s side and providing him with a source warmth and comfort. Once his brother was settled, Dick sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand on his brother’s forehead.
“You feel really hot. What are your symptoms?”
“My whole body aches,” Jason explained with a grimace. “I have chills, my head hurts, and my throat’s really sore, too.”
“Sounds like you may have caught the flu,” Dick frowned. “I’m gonna go grab some medicine for you and the thermometer. I’ll also put in a grocery order for some sick day essentials. I’ll be right back, okay?”
Jason could only nod as a wave of shivers crashed through him. He felt like he couldn’t get warm enough. Elinor did her best to help, adjusting her position so she could lay her head on his chest. Her long, thick, fur was like another blanket.
Dick was only gone for a few minutes. When he returned, he carried a bundle of supplies in his arms.
“All right, Little Wing, stick this under your tongue for me,” he instructed, holding out the thermometer. After a few seconds, he removed the probe and checked the screen. “102.6. No wonder you feel so bad, Jay. I’m gonna swab your nose and throat now, okay? I called Leslie, and she wants me to check you for flu and strep so she can prescribe some medicine if you need it. She actually wasn’t surprised you got sick. You just finished a steroid taper, didn't you? She said that would have lowered your immune system.”
Whenever Jason had a bad pain flare-up, Leslie would give him a dose pack of steroids to help him through it. Last week had been one of those times. Figured it would only lead to more pain in the long run. Nothing ever seemed to work out in Jason’s favor.
The swabs felt like knives being shoved into his orifices. Jason’s eyes teared up, and he had to grip his bedsheets tightly to avoid punching Dick in the face.
“All done,” Dick promised, sealing the swabs in a plastic bag. He grabbed a bottle of Gatorade – Glacier Freeze, Jason’s favorite – and unscrewed the lid. “Here, bud, try to drink this.”
Jason obeyed, accepting the drink. Along with his usual morning meds, Dick gave him some pain medication that would hopefully also lower his fever. He couldn’t take most normal cold meds like DayQuil because they interfered with his seizure meds, but at least Tylenol was safe.
“Th-thank you,” he all but whispered.
Dick smiled softly. “Of course, Little Wing. Now, you mentioned your leg was hurting. Would you like me to rub some Voltaren on your joints?”
Jason nodded. He was willing to do anything to make the pain go away.
His brother’s hands were quick but gentle. Jason felt the cool gel on his skin as Dick massaged it into his aching joints. Hopefully, it would kick in quickly.
“We’ll have to forgo the heating pads for now,” Dick said, his tone apologetic. “Leslie said we need to keep your fever down as much as possible to decrease your risk for seizure. Your threshold is already lower since you’re sick.”
“I know,” Jason sighed. “I think I’m gonna try to take a nap. Thanks again for everything, Dickie.”
His big brother leaned forward and pressed a kiss on top of his head. “Of course, Jay. I’ll wake you up when it’s time for more medicine. If you need me before then, just call.”
Dick was on his third cup of coffee.
As it turned out, Jason had both the flu and strep throat. He called Leslie and reported the results, and she had given him lots of instructions:
1.) Keep his fever down.
2.) Make sure he stays hydrated, even if that means starting IV fluids.
3.) Give him meds around the clock.
4.) If he has more than one seizure in twenty-four hours or gets sick to the point of being unable to tolerate his seizure meds, take him to the hospital.
Dick really hoped number four never became necessary.
He put in a grocery order and arranged for Jason’s Tamiflu and antibiotic to be delivered to the Manor.
It was almost nine o’clock now. Tim would probably be waking up soon. He would need breakfast. Dick’s culinary skills were limited, but he could do well enough to keep himself and the kids alive and fed.
Especially with the help of the Pillsbury Dough Boy.
While the oven preheated, Dick placed the cinnamon rolls on a baking sheet. Then his phone started ringing.
Bruce.
Dick quickly wiped the sticky cinnamon residue off of his hands before answering. “Sup, B.”
“Nightwing,” his father greeted in his Batman voice. “How are things at base?”
“Well, your middle child has managed to contract both the flu and strep throat, so I guess things could be better.”
There was some shuffling on the phone. Dick guessed Batman was moving to a more secure location so he could speak openly. “I can talk now. Is he okay?”
Dick smiled at the worry in the Dark Knight’s voice. “Leslie called in some prescriptions, and I’m having them delivered. He feels like crap, but he’s hanging in there.”
“Any seizures?”
“None thus far, but Elinor’s watching him like a hawk. If he does have one, I’ll know. I’ve got this, B. Just focus on your mission so you can get home to us safely.”
Batman grunted. “You’ll let me know if anything changes?”
“Of course,” Dick promised. “Now, go save the world.”
“Thank you, Chum. I’ll update you whenever I can.”
With that, the Dark Knight hung up.
Dick was on his fourth cup of coffee when Tim entered the kitchen.
“Morning, Dick,” he greeted.
The eldest Wayne forced a smile. “Good morning, Timmy. How did you sleep?”
“Pretty good,” he replied. He opened the fridge and took out the orange juice. “Is Jason awake yet?”
Dick sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “He was earlier, but I’m pretty sure he fell back asleep. Unfortunately, our dear brother has fallen ill.”
Tim’s eyes widened with worry. “He’s sick?”
“With flu and strep,” he confirmed.
“What are we gonna do?”
Dick reached over and ruffled his little brother’s hair “We don’t have to do anything. I’ve got this all taken care of, Timmy. Leslie’s aware, meds and groceries are on the way, and Elinor is with him. Jason’s gonna be fine. You don’t have to worry.”
Tim still looked concerned, which of course Dick understood. The boy was very protective of Jason. Plus, Tim still wasn’t completely used to having adults there to help him solve problems. The kid was too used to having to do things on his own.
“We should put his rescue meds by his bed in case he has a migraine or seizure.”
“Already done, Timmy.”
“We have to make sure he stays hydrated, too.”
“I made him drink some Gatorade with his meds.”
“Has Bruce been notified?”
“Spoke with him not too long before you came in.”
He could see the wheels turning inside Tim’s brain, trying to come up with any other potential pitfalls. Finally, he let out a breath. “Okay, but I’d still like to help.”
Dick smiled. “Of course, kiddo.”
They managed to make it until two o’clock before Jason’s medical alert bracelet went off.
Dick and Tim, who had been playing video games, immediately sprung into action. Dick, being faster, made it to the room first.
Jason was convulsing on the mattress, his legs getting tangled up in the sheets. Elinor had moved to his other side so he wouldn’t fall off the edge of the bed.
“Tim, keep track of time,” Dick ordered calmly as he moved to Jason’s side.
The first thing he did was pull Jason’s blankets off of the bed to prevent the younger boy from accidentally strangling himself. He then gently rolled his brother onto his side. Elinor acted accordingly and continued to act as a bumper between Jason and the edge of his bed.
“One minute,” Tim reported.
Dick nodded in acknowledgment, keeping his focus on Jason’s shaking body. “You’re all right, Jay. Just breathe through it.”
It never got easier to watch his little brother’s body rebel against its owner. Jason said he never remembered his seizures, which Dick counted as a blessing. They looked like they hurt.
“Two minutes.”
That was Jason’s average, but Dick’s brother showed no sign of stopping. He felt a knot begin to grow within his stomach. Foamy drool dribbled out of the sides of Jason’s mouth as he convulsed again and again.
“Three minutes.”
Shit.
“Tim, I need you to get Jason’s rescue med ready,” Dick instructed. Hopefully they wouldn’t need it, but they needed to be prepared.
There was some shuffling behind him. “I got it,” Tim said, coming up to his side with the intranasal medication in hand.
“You’ve got this, Jason,” Dick encouraged. “It’ll be over soon, bud.”
At least, he hoped it would.
“Four minutes,” Tim warned. Dick took the syringe from him and got ready to administer it. They’d have to take him to the hospital, but it would be okay. Everything would be okay.
Jason stilled.
“Thank God,” Dick blew out a breath. “Tim, grab the pulse oximeter while I check his breathing.”
Tim obeyed, slipping the device onto his brother’s finger. “88%.”
Jason’s respirations were slow and shallow, but his pulse was strong. Elinor, satisfied that her handler was no longer in danger of falling off the bed, retook her usual spot curled into his side.
“We’ll watch it for a minute. He probably wasn’t breathing well during the seizure. If it doesn’t come up, we’ll give him some oxygen.”
They kept a portable oxygen tank in Jason’s room with a non-rebreather mask. Fortunately, they’d never had to use it before.
“That’s the longest one I’ve seen,” Tim whispered. “Four minutes and twenty seconds.”
“Me too,” Dick sighed. “It was less than five minutes, though, so we should be able to avoid the hospital as long as he recovers.”
Tim placed a hand on Jason’s forehead. “I think his fever’s spiking again.”
Damn. No wonder Jason had a seizure. He sighed. “It’s about time for him to have more Tylenol. I’ll grab it when he wakes up.”
Jason’s oxygen saturation returned to normal within a couple of minutes. He still hadn’t woken up, but Dick felt worlds better now that his brother’s vitals were stable.
“I’m gonna stay in here for a while,” Dick decided, climbing into bed beside Jason, sandwiching Ellie between them. “I don’t want him to be alone when he wakes up.”
“I’ll stay, too,” Tim offered.
Dick shook his head. “You’ve been a lot of help, Timmy, but I don’t want you to catch what Jason has. The last thing we want is two baby brothers down for the count.”
Tim cocked an eyebrow at him. “What if you get sick? The last thing we want is our fearless leader down for the count.”
“Ah, but you’ve forgotten. You have the constitution of a sweet Victorian child. I, on the other hand, have strong Romani blood flowing through my veins. Therefore, I have a superior immune system.”
In addition to keeping Tim from getting sick, Dick also didn’t want the younger boy to be around Jason when he woke up. Jason had told Dick before that he hated it whenever Tim saw him postictal. It was an extremely vulnerable time for him, and he was embarrassed if his little brother had to take care of him. So since there was a safe option, Dick wanted to honor Jason’s wishes.
Thankfully, he gave in. “That makes no sense,” Tim rolled his eyes, “but go off, I guess. Let me know if I can do anything.”
Jason woke up five minutes later.
His little brother started moaning. “N-no, stop.”
Dick started carding his hand through Jason’s hair. “You’re okay, Jay. It’s Dick.”
“I don’ wanna do this anymore,” he mumbled, his words slurring together. Tears were streaming out of his half-lidded eyes.
Elinor whined with worry as she snuggled closer to her handler, licking the tears off of his cheeks.
“Jason, you had a seizure. You’re home in the Manor. I’ve got you, kiddo. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Please… lemme go.”
Dick hated how helpless he felt. “You’re safe, Jason. It’s Dick. You’re home. Here, let’s pet Elinor together.”
Surprisingly, Jason allowed Dick to gently lift his hand to the collie’s back. As he guided his brother to run his fingers through Ellie’s long fur, Dick continued to whisper soothing encouragements and reassurances. Jason was often disoriented when he first woke up, but this took it a step farther. It was like he was partially awake but trapped in a nightmare made up of his past. Dick guessed he shouldn’t be too surprised. Today’s seizure had been quite the doozy.
After a few more minutes of dog petting and reorientation, Jason’s gaze became a bit less clouded. “D-Dickie?” He rasped, his voice hoarse.
Dick smiled softly. “Welcome back, Little Wing.”
“What happened? I feel awful.”
His little brother’s quiet sobs stabbed straight into Dick’s heart. He reached over Ellie so he could rub soothing circles on Jason’s back. “You had a seizure, Jay. It was almost four-and-a-half minutes.”
“I hate my stupid body,” Jason sniffled, pressing his face into Elinor’s while the dog continued to lick away his tears. “All it ever does is cause me pain.”
“I know, buddy, but you know what? I love your body because it survived. We came so close to losing you, Jason. I wake up every single day so grateful that we didn’t. I understand how frustrating it can be, but you’re getting better every day. You won’t feel like this forever.”
His little brother’s let out a shaky sigh. “I’m just so tired, Dickie.”
Dick knew Jason meant something much deeper than the usual postictal fatigue. “You’ve got this, Jay. You’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
Jason just hummed in response. Dick could tell he was fading fast.
“Before you fall back asleep, Jay, I need you to drink something and take your medicine.”
It took monumental effort, but Dick (with Ellie’s help) was able to keep Jason awake long enough to coax a few ounces of Gatorade and some pills into him. His brother promptly passed out after that. He likely wouldn’t wake up for another few hours.
“J had a seizure,” Dick messaged Bruce on his secure channel. “It lasted four minutes and twenty seconds. Oxygen saturation stabilized three minutes postictal. He's still febrile but otherwise stable and resting.”
Unsurprisingly, Batman’s reply came quickly. “Thank you for telling me. Mission is lasting longer than anticipated. Will update when I can. Keep the Doctor in the loop.”
“Will do. Be safe.”
After sending Leslie a similar update, Dick checked Jason’s pulse and breathing again. Everything checked out, so he allowed himself to relax against the headboard. He felt like he needed a Xanax after all that. Or, at the very least, some more coffee.
But before he got to that, he had one more thing to take care of. He texted Tim, asking his little brother to come to Jason’s room.
The door opened thirty second later.
“Is everything okay?” Tim asked, his eyes darting between his two big brothers.
“Jason’s fine, Timmy,” Dick assured, “but Elinor hasn’t been out since breakfast. I figured she needs a break. Would you mind taking her? I’ll stay here and watch Jay until you get back.”
Tim looked relieved to be given a task. “Of course! Elinor, come.”
The dog’s ears perked up at the command. She looked at Tim then back at her unconscious handler, seemingly conflicted.
Dick put a hand on Jason’s back. “I’ve got him, Ellie. Go on with Uncle Tim.”
Seeing her charge would be taken care of, the collie carefully separated herself from Jason’s sleeping form and hopped off the bed.
“She needs to be brushed, too,” Dick reminded.
His youngest brother waved him off. “I’ve got this, Dick. You keep an eye on Jay.”
And with that, Tim left with Elinor in tow.
Later that evening, right as Dick and Tim finished cleaning up after dinner, Dick’s phone lit up again. This time, it was a notification from Jason’s call button, not his medical alert bracelet.
“I’m gonna go check on Jason and see what he needs,” Dick told his little brother.
Tim nodded. “I’m coming with you.”
Dick didn’t try to stop him. He figured he may need the backup, depending on what they found.
When he opened the door, the smell of sick hit him like a truck. Jason was on his side leaning over the edge of the bed, trembling in a very non-seizure way. There was a pool of vomit on the floor as well as down the side of his bed.
Elinor was draped over him, trying to provide pressure therapy. She was having trouble staying on with how badly he was shaking.
“Jay, talk to me,” Dick ordered gently as he went to check on his brother.
“H-head hurss,” Jason whimpered, his words slurred. “T-too much. Ev’rythin’s too much.”
Dick made sure to keep his voice low. “We’ll get you taken care of, Jay.” He turned to Tim. “Timmers, could you please go get some cleaning supplies and fresh linens?”
The younger boy nodded, leaving quickly to accomplish his mission.
Dick went to Jason’s med fridge and pulled out the pre-filled syringe of migraine medicine. Usually they could get away with the pill, but Jason’s nausea made that option too risky. It was best to nip his symptoms in the bud ASAP before he worked himself into another seizure. Dick was very much trying to avoid the hospital if possible, thank you.
“Jason, I’m going to give you a shot the back of your arm for your headache, okay? Then I’ll help you get cleaned up.”
His brother only moaned in response, keeping his eyes tightly shut.
Dick wiped a spot on the back of Jason’s arm with an alcohol swap then gently pushed the needle in. Once the syringe was empty, he popped the safety on the cap and tossed it into the hanging sharps container Bruce had installed.
While the medicine kicked in, Dick got things ready for Jason to shower. He got fresh clothes from his drawer and made sure the shower chair was in place inside his bathroom. Finally, he turned the water on so it could start warming up.
By the time he was finished, Jason’s trembling had diminished slightly.
“All right, Little Wing, are you feeling up to a shower?”
“P-please,” his little brother said, his voice miserable.
“I’m gonna pick you up now, okay?”
When Jason didn’t protest, Dick carefully lifted him out of bed, Elinor jumping down to follow them. Luckily, from what Dick could see, the collie didn’t seem to have any sick on her long fur.
He gently sat Jason down on the closed toilet seat. The boy seemed more awake now, though still a bit groggy.
“Okay, Jason, we need to get you in the shower now. How do you want to do this?”
Dick wanted to give Jason as much control over the situation as possible. Which, granted, wasn’t a lot. There was no way Dick was going to allow him to shower completely by himself with how out of it he still was. But Jason was more susceptible to panic attacks when he was postictal, especially with the migraine giving him sensory overload. Dick didn’t want to trigger his brother by making him feel forced.
“C-can I keep my underwear on, please?” He requested softly.
Dick nodded. That was an acceptable compromise in his mind. At least Jason would get clean enough not to smell like puke. “Deal. Let’s get your shirt and pants off, then.”
Once Jason was down to his boxers, Dick helped him into the shower chair. From there, he made sure his brother remained steady as Jason washed himself off.
Dick tried his best not to stare the scars the Joker had left on Jason’s body, but they were everywhere. Most the mad clown had bestowed himself, but still many more came from the multitude of surgeries that had become necessary throughout his brother’s hospitalization and rehab.
“This fucking sucks,” Jason mumbled under his breath.
“I know, Jay,” Dick soothed, running his hand up and down the younger boy’s back, “but this, too, shall pass.”
Jason sighed. “Not all of it.”
Dick’s heart clenched at the realization that his brother was most likely right.
After all the younger boy was clean and dry, Dick helped him get dried off and dressed, allowing Jason to keep himself covered with the towel when exchanging his soaking boxers for fresh ones. Elinor sat dutifully at her handler’s side, watching him like a hawk for any signs of distress.
They had just finished when there was a soft knock on the door.
“I cleaned up the floor and changed his linens,” Tim’s muffled voice reported.
Dick opened the door. Sure enough, the hardwood floor was spotless. In fact, all traces of Jason’s sickness were gone. The room was spotless.
“Thank you very much for your help, but you didn’t have to do all that, Tim,” Dick said. “I was planning on taking care of it.”
The younger boy shrugged. “My parents never liked cleaning up after me when I got sick, so they had Mrs. Mac teach me how to do it myself when I turned five. That way, if I got sick in the middle of the night, I didn’t have to bother anyone.”
Well, that was concerning.
“The fuck did he just say?” Jason grumbled, lifting his head from his hands.
Tim turned red. “I’m guessing that was one of those things about my childhood my parents convinced me was normal that was actually neglectful and/or abusive?”
“Definitely,” Dick confirmed, “but in any case, thank you very much for your help. C’mon, Jay, let’s get you back in bed.”
Thankfully, Jason’s migraine meds had kicked in enough for him to tolerate his oral nausea and dinnertime meds. Therefore, Dick and Tim took turns bullying Jason into drinking Gatorade and eating some of the soup Dick had gotten delivered. The boy was able to get down about half of each before he wasn’t able to fight off sleep any longer.
“Get some rest, Little Wing,” Dick whispered, pressing a kiss onto his little brother’s forehead. He then ushered Tim out of the room, leaving Jason under Elinor’s watchful eye.
“So, Timmy, how have you been? I’m sorry, I’ve been so preoccupied with Jason that we haven’t really gotten to hang out much.”
Now Jason had been taken care of, the other two Wayne boys were sitting at the breakfast nook. Dick had brought out some milk and a box of Oreos, and he’d been showing Tim all the different ways to dunk and eat the cookie.
Tim frowned. “Don’t apologize, Dick. Jason’s sick right now. Of course he needs more attention than me.”
It was wild to him that Dick would actually feel the need to apologize. Tim could take care of himself. It would be selfish of him to take up too much of Dick’s time when his brother was so ill.
“True, but I want you to know that you’re still just as important as he is, and that I’m here to take care of you, too. Which means checking in on my littlest brother.”
Dick and Jason had been jokingly referring to Tim as their little brother for years, but now it was real. He was officially a Wayne, at least legally. The adoption had been finalized two weeks ago.
Tim’s feelings about his parents were complicated. He loved them for sure, but he was also a little scared of them. He’d seen the Gotham Academy security footage of them yelling at Jason the last day of school, causing the boy to have a seizure. Tim had been more upset about that than his dislocated shoulder, though that, too, had caused him a lot grief. His father had never physically hurt him like that before. When the Drakes’ parental rights had been terminated shortly thereafter, Tim had been relieved, which also made him feel guilty. His therapist, Sarah, had been working hard to help him process all of his feelings. Whatever that woman was being paid, there was no way it was enough.
“I’m doing okay for the most part,” he explained. “Some days, I miss my parents, even though I know they weren’t always good for me. I love living here with Jason and Bruce and Alfred, and I also love having you for a brother. But sometimes, I feel so guilty about how much I love it.”
“I understand why you might feel that way,” Dick assured. “The first time I called Bruce, ‘Dad’, I ended up bursting into tears. I was afraid that it meant I was forgetting my biological father, or that I was betraying him in some way. But that wasn’t true, Timmy. Children need parents – good parents, who love and support them. I know for a fact that my dad would be happy that I have Bruce to look after me since he can’t. I realize your situation is quite a bit different from mine, as your parents are still alive, but the point still stands. You deserve to be in this family, Tim.”
Tears bubbled up in his eyes, which in turn caused his cheeks to warm with red embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” he sniffled. “This happens sometimes. I’m not trying to be a baby.”
Dick smiled gently. “Timmy, is it okay if I hug you?”
Tim nodded. He liked Dick’s hugs. He also liked giving permission and being allowed to say “no.” His parents never allowed him to say “no.” Neither did She.
“I feel so silly crying. I have nothing to cry about. Jason doesn’t cry nearly as much, and he’s had it so much worse than me. His dad hurt him more than mine did, and then his mom died and he was homeless – even what I went through with M-Ms. Milton was nothing compared to what he survived on the streets. And then he was tortured and almost blown up and he has seizures and hurts all the time and I’m perfectly fine I don’t need to cry.”
And yet he couldn’t stop. Sarah and Bruce both called it one of his “trauma responses,” like his panic attacks or dissociative episodes. Tim hadn’t been allowed to cry growing up. Jack and Janet had drilled the phrase “boy don’t cry” into his psyche since was a toddler. But living with the Waynes was different. Here, he was allowed to show emotions with no consequences. Sarah had explained that because his mind and body weren’t used to feeling safe enough to cry, it was like his emotional regulation had to play catch-up. He’d level out in time, once his brain got with the program. Hopefully.
“It’s okay, Timmy,” Dick soothed, rubbing circles on his back as he held Tim tightly against his chest. “It’s okay to cry. You know it’s just a part of your body healing from the trauma you’ve been through. There’s no shame in that. And please, bud, try not to compare your experiences to Jason’s or anyone else’s. You’ve both been through some pretty terrible things, and you both deserve all of the love and safety in the world. It’s not a competition. I meant what I said earlier: you’re just as important as he is. I love you, Timmy.”
The encouragement warmed Tim to his very core. His big brother loved him. Even though Tim felt very undeserving of the affection, he knew that the eldest Wayne meant it. Dick Grayson would never lie about something so important.
He smiled wetly against his big brother’s chest. “I love you too, Dick.”
Bruce entered the Manor through the Batcave in the wee hours of the morning. The mission had been a success, though it had taken longer than he would have liked. When Dick had messaged him the previous morning telling him that Jason was sick, the father in Bruce had wanted to leave and let the rest of the League handle things. But Batman had responsibilities to honor, and as much as he hated not being there when Jason needed him, he knew that his boys would be okay until he got home. Dick would have made sure of that.
He silently crept up the grand staircase towards the bedrooms. He checked on Tim first. Thankfully, his youngest was actually asleep. With all the trauma he’d been through between Ashley Milton’s abuse and all of the drama with his parents, it wasn’t uncommon for Tim to suffer from insomnia. It was something he and his therapist had been working through, and Bruce was so thankful for what progress had already been made.
Next, he headed to Jason’s room. He opened the door as quietly as he could before slipping inside.
Jason was sleeping soundly. His hair stuck to his forehead with fever-fueled sweat. He was pale, and his cheeks were flushed. His son looked very sick, but his chest rose and fell steadily, which helped Bruce keep his worry in check. Elinor was curled up at his feet, though she lifted her head as soon as Bruce entered the room.
“Hey, girl,” he greeted, petting her between the ears. That’s when he noticed his eldest, fast asleep, curled into himself like a pretzel in the chair beside Jason’s bed. He reached over and gently laid a hand on Dick’s shoulder.
His son’s eyes flew open immediately.
“It’s just me, Chum,” Bruce assured softly. “I’m home.”
“Good. I hate being the grown up,” Dick mumbled sleepily.
Bruce smiled fondly. “You did a great job today. Do you wanna go back to your room? I can stay here with Jason.”
“Not moving. Too comfy.”
Bruce lifted an eyebrow. The position certainly didn’t look comfortable. Then again, Dick was far more flexible than the average person. He often fell asleep in weird, contorted postures.
“All right, Chum,” he relented with a chuckle. “Goodnight.”
His eldest’s eyes were already closed. “Night, Dad.”
And with that, Batman’s mission was officially complete.