#damitim

-x-

Tim sleeps far past sunrise.

It's not entirely surprising, but that doesn't stop Damian from periodically checking on him to make sure that he's still breathing.

He does another sweep of the secure area, partly for peace of mind, but also to stop himself from hovering. There's only so long he can stare at the man before he's questioning his own rationality.

Timothy is not going to disappear if he turns away.

Except it feels like he will.

So he checks the locks. Surveys the surrounding area from the rooftop. Decides to make them breakfast. He takes his time this go around.

This time it's a spiced bean soup. He makes it slightly thicker than that of the night before, and opts to make a handful of chickpea flour fritters to dip. Give Tim something with more body, something to linger a bit longer in his stomach.

By the time he finishes, the entire office floor is perfumed with the smell of simmered spices, and just on the cusp of being too warm for his tastes- but he's not concerned about himself at the present, and the other man was at present seriously lacking in insulation.

Damian hesitates to wake him- almost feels bad about it even. But time has started slipping into the 'too long between meals for the malnourished' range, so it's the lesser of two evils.

In another time, he imagines Timothy would have eased into consciousness with garbled protest- groaning and batting away his hands with a huff. But seven years of cautious sleep, of muffling sound, and learning by necessity to hold back previously unconscious utterances instead meant the man woke with startled silent fright.

Tim eyes snap open- pupils pin pricks against pale blue. His breath stops, body growing rigid.

Damian frowns and scoots forward, just enough where he can lean over right into his view path.

He watches the shudder roll down the man's body, and his eyes grow wide as they meet his.

He huffs, not to laugh at the smaller man, but at the situation in general.

Whilst he's anxious about taking his eyes off Timothy for fear that he will disappear, every time the other man wakes he fears that he dreamt or hallucinated it all. What a damaged pair they made...

"Time to eat. Afterwards you should move around for bit, stretch... It's best that we get you properly mobile sooner rather than later."

He receives a shaky nod in response, and helps the man upright before slipping the bowl into his hands.

Again Tim stares into the bowl with disbelief.

He knows the Arkham community has done well for itself over the years. No food shortages thanks to their combined efforts early on- hell, they even had a healthy sized flock of chickens several generations deep now. Could have managed more if Gotham proper had had any farms, but alas they had all been Jersey main land...

But he was painfully reminded yet again how dire things must be out in the streets. It wasn't as though there were many places remaining to garden, and none of them safe- but also seemingly no one left out there to grow and maintain anything either.

Nothing he could have done to help that- he could only make sure the man never went without again.

"Ground beans. Most of what I have tucked away at the satellite safehouses is intended for quick cooking. That way I don't have to soak things overnight. Peas, beans, legumes. They store for ages. The dried herbs lose some potency over time but they keep- so long as they are kept away from moisture. The fresh and unprocessed stored food stays safe within the tower. I've... I've been growing the majority of it myself since the start of things. As such, I hadn't realized how bad things had gotten outside. It's been a long time since we- I stumbled across any living humans. The local smaller wildlife seems to have fared much better- species dependent on the area."

"You've managed to hold the tower, all this time? How?" Tim's voice was still rough and graveled.

Damian held back the wince, but was pleased when the man finally took a bite.

"We locked things down pretty securely early on. Kept survivors to one floor, and never for very long before we trekked out to Arkham. Checked the riot panels frequently. Gradually dragged much of the office furniture down to the lower three floors and further barricaded the windows and doors. Cut the power supply to the elevators. Sealed off all entrances to the bunker sans the one directly from within the tower itself. There were a few attempted break-ins early on, some people with stolen military weaponry...we handled it quickly. Dick wasn't always thrilled with how. Not everyone could be reasoned with. Those who could be made it to Arkham. Those who didn't... well, you are well aware of my willingness to handle a threat. I supposed he had hoped that I would stand firm to the code throughout the outbreak. But I wasn't about to roll over and die, nor allow anyone to take him out either. Not when the lot of us were everyone's last hope of survival, and we had already lost Selina and Stephanie so quickly."

Tim frowned.

"Yeah... I get it. Pru, she... she handled that sort of thing in the beginning. Spared me from it. I couldn't even bring myself to mercy kill the bitten. Then when she was gone- well, it was either kill or be killed in some cases... and I needed to live."

He sighed.

"Dick struggled with it... putting those doomed out of their misery. He would insist on waiting until the fever made them delirious, and even then it haunted him. The dead he made peace with, but he never could bring himself to take out the raiders, even when it meant him taking bullets until we fled or I was forced to take action."

Tim nodded, and drank his soup, a faraway look in his eyes.

"Can I ask...how did it happen?"

Damian tsked and hunched forward, leaning his elbows on his knees.

"How does it ever happen? We were swarmed... On the ground. We still weren't using the grapnel, too risky with the noise when it was the two of us. Had tried on and off over the years. Even tried using them only in emergency, but without fail that usually meant firing at different times, to separate rooftops, and whoever launched second inevitably ran into more trouble as the sound of the first alerted the dead- and we would end up separated, which was even worse than dodging the dead. The panic made us sloppy." He sighed, and met the other man's eyes. "We were caught unaware. No one's fault. Careful as always, luck simply wasn't with us. Billboard gave way? Presumably rusted through. Heard the crash, dropped what were sorting through, fled the building to assess. It wasn't fast enough. Alerted every lurker in a mile radius, and they had already begun to flood the streets by the time we cleared the door. Went for us. Their noise drew more, things grew louder, which only made the numbers continue to climb. There was no breather to try climb, and even had we been able there were no guarantees we wouldn't get boxed in once up- I didn't start locking down rooftops until after everything, when it was just me... Fences gave out, flooded things further. We ended up bottle necked, no way out but to tear through it. So we did. Managed to fight our way through to Midtown bridge- we had successfully gotten the bridge risen a few years in, causing too sharp of an incline for the dead, and a pileup of vehicles on each end. Once we pulled ourselves up over the first few rows, we were in the clear. He... he didn't tell me they had gotten him until after we made the leap to the other side. He was right to- I...I didn't handle that well."

He swallowed, looking away, and jammed a fritter into his mouth.

"I'm sorry... He was all you had for a long time. I know you had to- but I wish you hadn't had to. I'm not so sure I could have. It's...different when it's your own- the one time I should have, I couldn't. Everyone else just knew I-" Tim huffed, curling in on himself. "They took care of themselves. Knew I was more likely to go down with them than to be able to pull that trigger or stick a knife in their skulls. I suppose you think I'm a fool for that, after all this time."

Damian stared for a long moment, then leaned back and shut his eyes.

"I couldn't do it- not while he was still him. I was selfish enough to want to keep him until the very end... he was sentimental, and foolish enough to allow me that. It was...brutal. I was able to end him after, but it was a heavy toll to pay, watching him suffer to that point. Father sheltered us from the worst of it. Masked his suffering while we were present. Let himself fade whilst alone... I didn't know how bad it was- wish I didn't know now."

"I'm sorry..."

Damian clenched his jaw.

He didn't need, nor want apologies. What he needed was to see an ounce of fight in man before him...

"Stop saying that- and eat your food". He snapped, and rose to his feet. "I want that bowl at least half empty when I return."

He huffed, and stomped off, offering no explanation nor clue as to when said return might happen. He just needed to leave and clear his head before he barked out something stupid that he would certainly regret later.

-x-

The mistake had been talking about it so soon... while Timothy was still feeling so despondent, so filled with gloom, and an overwhelming miasma of survivors guilt and unworthiness.

Too soon- and not knowing how raw he himself was going to feel as result. He felt bad leaving the man alone in the aftermath, but would have felt worse had he torn into him.

He had thought about Dick's death plenty in the six months since, in solitude... but had only spoken of it aloud briefly, once, directly after. When he had reported back to Barbara... and had broken the woman's heart.

He hadn't been able to bring himself to go anywhere near the island since then.

He should have expected to feel flayed open telling the tale to the older man.

Stupidity.

The chains and barriers had changed none since his last check of course. There was nothing but silence even well beyond them. But he busied himself checking all the same, almost robotically, until he felt that he had finally settled back into his own skin enough to be proper company once more.

By the time he slunk back to the main room, the guilt pressing down on his shoulders was heavy. He might have removed himself from the situation to stop things from escalating, but he knew damage had been done all the same.

He shouldn't have snapped- lashed out at all.

But he was trying. After six months of solitude, it was difficult sliding back into companionship- being human. It wasn't as simple as flipping a switch. He had already adapted- and so he would yet again...

The image that greeted him upon return left him with mixed feelings.

The plate of fritters was empty sans crumbs- the bowl of soup close enough to half empty. Which was good. So good... Less so was the way Tim had his shoulders hunched, body drooped over itself, with the bowl sitting in his lap.

The shame was cold as it slid over him. But he pressed on, and rejoined the man beside the fire pit.

"Timothy?"

The smaller man jolted at the sudden break in the silence, head snapping up to meet his eyes.

"Sorry, I-" He paused, mouth open and shutting as he tried to find the right words. "I was sort of in my own head... didn't hear you come back in."

He sighed and dropped down onto the cot beside him. Squeezed his eyes shut.

"Stop apologizing. Please." Damian gave a ragged sigh, and drug his fingers through the front of his hair. "You haven't anything to apologize for. I'm the one being irritable... anxious. I promise I'm better than this. But no one is more guilty of having been stuck in their own head than I... It's been a long six months. It's not an excuse- just an explanation. We hadn't seen anyone alive outside of Arkham in well over a year, not until you called out my name. I had convinced myself that nothing was left, that there was no one- especially of our own. I'm afraid I've regressed in my solitude. It's nothing you've said, nor is it me judging anything you have or haven't done. The dead do not speak. I wasn't prepared for the weight of these conversations- or worrying about someone besides myself again. I will not say it won't happen again, because it will. I just ask that you try to not take it to heart, and understand that if I remove myself it's not out of disgust for you."

To his relief, Tim gives a short nod after a moment, and passes his bowl to him.

By then the soup's gone cold, but he tips it back and downs the remnants all the same.

Damian's aware of the staring even without turning his gaze back on the man.

He cleans to distract himself.

-x-

It's a struggle watching the man stretch his limbs. Tim is no longer trembling and swaying on his feet as he walks, but he does get winded quickly. It's an unpleasant reminder of how close the man came to fizzling out.

If the fire escape hadn't collapsed, delaying his departure with the swarm, would he have returned the second time to Timothy's corpse splayed out on one of the neighboring rooftops? Or hobbling in the streets? It's a morbid thought...

He's not so sure the sight wouldn't have broken him...and the thought of that was equally terrifying as it was infuriating.

Dick would have forgiven him for that. Understood it even.

But alive all this time... he still couldn't shake the feeling of failure. That he and Dick should have looked harder for him. That he shouldn't have written Timothy off so soon, when Dick surely hadn't.

But the past was past. He needed to focus on the present.

The man had taken to exploring the floor, gently rifling through bins. He watched closely, in case he needed to jump in. Tim lifted and shoved things aside as he rummaged, arms shaking with the strain, but he seemed in no danger of losing his balance.

So he stood firm, legs locked, and simply observed.

Timothy needed to stay mobile, build up his strength, and the best way for that to happen at parent was to just let the man do his own thing, anxiousness be damned. The sooner the man was fit for travel, the better.

Damian was certain his nerves wouldn't settle until they were back safely within the tower. But that could be tomorrow- or days from then. He wouldn't know until they made a go at it.

Eventually what little energy Tim had managed to muster up puttered out, and he returned to his cot, sinking down onto the blankets in a sweat-slick heap.

It had been short lived, all things considered. But a good effort none the less. Damian managed a smile as he crossed the room to rejoin him.

It was only then that he realized that the man had found himself a book, and had brought back with him. A prize for his efforts.

The laugh escaped him before he could swallow it.

Tim's gaze met his with cautious, narrowed eyes- but he let the corners of his mouth curl upward, and the man's sudden defensive posture dissipated.

"Having the will to read is a good thing. I wasn't laughing at you, honest. It's just... a relief."

At that, Tim cracked a small smile of his own.

-x-

Timothy had fallen asleep a handful of chapters in- again, hardly a surprise.

Rest was to be expected. Rest was good.

It gave him time to stretch his own legs again- really stretch them.

Damian checked the perimeter of the safe zone yet again- no changes, not that he had expected any. He then checked Tim's sleeping form - no changes there either, before actually heading out.

He didn't go far. Couldn't bring himself to with the other man tucked away back at the safehouse, currently completely and utterly reliant upon him. But he did start going over the path he planned to take when the two of them did finally depart.

While the shorter, direct route to the tower would have been best under better circumstances, he had to account for the possibility that Timothy was unable to make it that far in a single trip.

It meant they would have to veer off course, take the longer, staggered path back. Allow for the possibility of two additional safehouses to be utilized should they need to stop- and be unable to move forward for another day or so.

This meant ensuring the exact path was centered in stone. That the rooftops being utilized were clear and secure. That there were backups in place should something have taken a turn for the worse at the most inopportune of moments. Most important yet, that said safehouses were without a doubt locked down and secure, with no room for error.

So he patrolled the exact path. Went building to building checking his chains. He didn't sweep the buildings of the safehouses this trip- did not take the route past that second safehouse, not wanting to stay out too long without warning the man first. But he was at least satisfied with the plans by the time he returned to their current dwelling.

-x-

Tim was still asleep by the time Damian returned.

He thought it was perhaps for the best as he stripped back out of his gear and settled back in. It meant that the man hadn't gotten the opportunity to worry.

He was part way through making an early dinner when he finally stirred, coming back to slowly, blinking away sleep in the afternoon light.

Tim said nothing, even after his eyes focused. Just laid there watching as he added things to the pot and stirred.

Damian waited for the questions to start- but they never came. The man only watched him go through the motions, curled up on his side, for the longest time. It should have been unsettling. Instead it was almost a comfort.

"Eight months." Tim's voice was soft when he finally did break his silence.

He paused- and slid the pot away from the flames.

"Eight months?" He questioned, lifting a brow.

Tim's eyes slipped shut.

"How long I was alone... Eight months."

Which was... something.

His six since Dick's death had been agonizing- but he had at least had food and running water, a secure home...

"You were MIA almost three years. You just...vanished. When you never appeared back at Arkham for so much as a check in- we eventually had to assume you had been lost." He sighed, drawing a knee up to rest on. "We searched of course- spread out across Midtown, found old traces. Nothing that pointed to where you went. Nothing recent enough to get a timeline off of. Just... gone."

The smaller man swallowed thickly, and pulled the blanket in tighter around his shoulders.

"It didn't happen all at once. Not really... I blew through a lot of gear early on. The raids on Gotham General and St. Luke's for Barbara's community supply runs were especially brutal on things. There was only so much wear and tear- so many bites the fabric and armor could take before the integrity was shot, and we weren't using the grapnel. Just gliders and repel lines. It was just Pru and I for the longest time. She was a force to be reckoned with, even after she ran out of ammo, and resorted to GCPD leftovers for gear."

"Tt... of course she was. She was League." He huffed, the weak smile he sported half bitter and nostalgic.

Tim returned it all the same.

"Had a nasty fall, not very long before she went down. It didn't kill me, clearly, but that was more due to luck and strategic falling than anything. Some idiot thought I might be sitting on some major supply caches. Nailed me mid-air as I was gliding down to a no-leap zone. Buckshot through the left wing panel. Was already on its last leg- ripped it to pieces. Went down hard and fast. Smashed into a streetlight, bounced off, landed back first on an overturned bus. Hurt like hell, busted a few ribs. But better than being shot, or splattered on the pavement, and I landed high enough to be out of the reach of the dead. Pru interrogated him. Ended it when she couldn't talk him down. We limped away. Was the last glider cape I had left functioning at that point. Tried to patch few together, but the hand-stitched seams kept giving out. Only lasted for so long. I'd already long run out of suits. Boots and gloves too. Tried and failed to get at one last gear cache that hadn't been destroyed several times, but the area was too congested to get close enough, and still be able to get out."

"You had no way in." He sucked in a sharp breath, jaw tight.

Tim nodded.

"I had no way in. I could have made a go on foot. Rushed through the warehouses on the ground, dove into the Gotham river... swam and hoped the current didn't take me. But I was long out of gear. Chances of making it across to the island and scaling up the walls without being shot were zero to none. No one was going to recognize me that far out. Wasn't like we could just hover around, hoping to get lucky and catch you two in passing. Not when it could have been months. I didn't know that you two were still holding the tower- not that we could have made it through the sky rises with what little gear we had left, and certainly not street level. As is... we got stuck in residential Colgate while scavenging houses. Food stores had already started going bad, had to take more and more risks getting at places previously avoided. Swarm came out of nowhere. Heard it long before we could see it, but the sound just bounced, couldn't get a read on where it was heading in. Things just-" his voice cracked, and suddenly he coughed, wincing.

Damian was on his feet in the blink of an eye, tinkering with a jug, and by the time Tim had sat up he was already pressing the glass of water into his hands.

"Eight months is a long time with little to no speaking. This doesn't have to be all at once." He huffed, but there was no heat in it.

But Tim downed half the water in one go, ending with a frown.

"No, I... I really do." He sighed, pushing the scraggled hair from his face. "Better like a band-aid... So, we booked it- ran face first into the mess. Turned and took off only to have them flooding the streets there as well. Community was walled. It was more than we could push through, and more than we could take out. Nothing higher than a second floor to scale, no tall trees, and the perimeter too high and without footholds to get up and over in one quick move. Came down to either both of us likely getting a chunk taken out trying to push through, or one of us taking the fall to buy the other time...she didn't give me the choice. Just shoved me at it and rushed them. I-I had to watch them tear her apart from the top of the wall. They didn't leave enough of her intact to reanimate..."

He swallowed, throat tight and burning, and downed the rest of the water while Damian stared.

"I made it back to camp. Packed up what I could carry, and drifted for a few days. Decided to make a go at looking for Cass. She fell off the radar, but far enough from our territories that I thought it was possible that she too had just lost the ability to reach Arkham. She was supposed to be using the theater and the bunker beneath. I figured that if she were still alive, she'd been alone all that time, unless she'd found company. Might as well seek her out so we weren't both going it alone. But the nest was vacant. Had been for a long time it looked. Hardly looked like it had ever been touched at all- like she had abandoned ship as soon as Steph had been downed, and never looked back. Still had some pantry goods that weren't off. So I slept there at night and searched the area by day. Hoping to find anything... and well, I did."

"You... you actually found her?" He couldn't help it, his brow shot up in response.

"I was up there for about a month at that point? Alley was pretty picked through, nothing to find that wasn't thoroughly hidden. Was picking through a hoarder apartment when I heard the gunshots. It had already been ages since I'd come across civilians. Figured I'd take a discreet peek, evaluate." He smiled, sadly. "Imagine my shock when it turned out to be Jason, mowing down a cluster from the safety of a balcony. Was like seeing a ghost all over again."

"Todd? He was- he was in the city? This whole time?" He gaped, stunned.

Tim chuckled.

"We didn't know. He hadn't wanted us to know." He murmured, passing back his glass. "Hadn't left Gotham for long it turns out. Came back with the girl too, Scarlet. Just... hunkered down in the alley- then everything went to shit."

Damian rose up, and quickly refilled the glass, passing it back.

"But why not reveal himself after? He could have made a difference. We could have broken the districts down into smaller pieces. He would have been an asset! Personal vendettas should have been set aside with the drastic shift in circumstances!"

He was frustrated. Furious even. Adding two more to their ranks could have made all the difference.

Except-

Timothy looked heartbroken by his reaction...

He snapped his mouth shut with an audible click- which didn't escape the other man's notice.

"He didn't want to make a problem- to intrude on our lives. Jason just... wanted to come home. The Alley was home long before the manor, before Batman and Robin. He was just... tired. But the city fell to pieces, and he never got to rest." He murmured, eyes sad. "It's not like he sat on his ass and hunkered down in some prepper's bunker riding the apocalypse out. I don't know why Steph and Cass never crossed paths with him. He never saw them either. But he was out there in the streets taking out the dead, helping some holed up small groups of survivors, until they inevitably fell apart or turned. The girl made it a couple years, but got caught up in all of that. I think that haunted him the most out of everything."

"You stayed then."

Tim's mouth twitched.

"Being alone after the fall... it doesn't do anyone any good." He muttered, and pulled his knees up to his chest. "I stayed. We set up shop in the bunker beneath the nest, and just... existed. Scavenged. Cleared the dead. Looked for survivors- that we never found. He was... broken. Going through the motions. Me showing up made things better, but I never could pull him out of it. He shut down a lot... But we kept each other going."

"What happened?"

He watched Timothy's head jerk. The way his jaw trembled. The furrow of his brow- and knew that this was his parallel, the one that tore a hole in his chest, like Dick had done to him.

"It- everything just..." He stumbled over his words, swallowing roughly, face screwed up with hurt. "Things should have been fine, you know? We stuck to the same routes. Had blockades setup. Knew every entrance, every escape point. He'd been there since the start, me over two years... Something got pushed through? Probably the tunnels? They were locked down, but get a big enough group, the weathering of the chains, the hinges... I just know that one minute we were fine, and the next we were running for our lives- and there were so many. Everywhere. Couldn't push through. Couldn't get high- not enough time to maneuver. Couldn't stop to even catch our breath. We were functionally out of bullets by then. Every round was an "emergency round". We managed to make it most of the way to the west side blockades- bunch of semis wedged together, smaller vehicles rammed against them... But we had to fight our way through, then pull ourselves up and over." Tim shook his head and took a shaky swig.

"...and he didn't make it." Damian guessed, and sighed.

Tim set the glass down.

"No, he did... we got through to the cars. Was a close thing. Really close. Shoved me up first, pulled up behind me- kept pushing me up and over. Hopped a few trucks over, scaled up a fire escape. Could barely breathe, had the shakes. Would have had to ride out the swarm to get back home- couldn't roof hop all the back to the theater, but we were in the clear. Big relief. Started trekking out to where we'd have to wait things out for an opening." He paused- and shut his eyes. "I- I didn't notice at first, that he was letting me get further and further ahead... and when I did- I turned around, and he'd already stopped. Had the barrel to his head. Then he just-"

"Timothy-" Damian tried, but Tim just frantically shook his head, tears spilling out.

"I never saw him get nailed- never had an inkling. I thought we'd made it? But he'd just... he made sure I got out, that I was safe. Knew I wouldn't be able to do it, that I'd argue, and beg. That I'd be more likely to ride it out, and let myself go with him, because I couldn't handle it... I was so, so tired Damian. I didn't want to do this alone." He choked on a sob, and swiped at his face. "So instead, he did it. Far enough back I couldn't reach him before he pulled the trigger. No goodbyes. Bite was on his side, underneath the jacket. Couldn't even say what point in the scramble it could have happened. But he was just gone- and I was trapped. Stuck having to wait it out. Couldn't bury him. Couldn't burn him- would have just made them all stick around longer. Couldn't just...I couldn't even just eat a bullet myself either. Because then I'd be wasting what he'd done. He knew that too- that I wouldn't, because of it. I was so, so angry. That he'd left me- that he'd forced me to stick it out..."

Damian had no words. He couldn't say what was worse- riding out the clock, spending that last precious day... those last hours at Dick's side while he was in such agony.

Or not being able to.

He supposed it hardly mattered anymore anyway.

"They dispersed enough to move eventually. Got back, packed as much as I could carry. Tried to rest- couldn't. Waited things out long enough that I had a wide enough window to get out and move west. Left, never went back. Drifted around for a few months. Then I- I found Cass." He gave a horrible laugh, and curled in on himself. "I was- god, I was so happy Damian. Relieved. I rushed at her, shouted her name. She was facing away when I found her. She whipped around- her suit had looked so clean from behind... but the front- the junction at her throat, the yellow bat... I couldn't even tell you how long she'd been gone. I choked. I couldn't do it. Should have done it. It would have been the most humane thing to do... Instead, I was terrified. Devastated. I-I ran."

And there it was- the shame from earlier.

But that wouldn't do.

“You survived.” He stated bluntly- and Tim stared at him. “Surely Cassandra would have placed more value on that, than a body she no longer inhabited. She wouldn't have wanted you to join her. Certainly not like that.”

He could tell at once that his words were freeing. An absolution of sorts.

The man looked exhausted again suddenly, but no longer tense. He wiped at his eyes again, drank that last of his water, and laid back down on his side.

He let it be. Resumed his cooking without another word said.

Timothy seemed grateful for it.

Damian might not have gotten all his answers- seven years was a long time, and there was surely more to learn. But they had time

Things would be better, he was certain, once they got back to base.