#tim:dick

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

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

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

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

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

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

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

An overwhelming sense of nothing.

Feeling nothing.

Being nothing.

Having nothing.

Why was Dick still suffocating him?

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

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

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

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

Conner.

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

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

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