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my-one-love-is-music · 5 years

Text

Free Me From This Prison Called My Head

Summary: It's been a year since Tim fell into a coma. He was small swamped by the hospital sheets in the Cave, but they knew there had to be some way to wake him up. It had been a year. And they were finally going to get him out.

A/N: This is my last fic that I wrote during Nanowrimo back in November and I'm so excited to share it with everyone! I've had this idea for a long time and have been wanting to write it for so long so please enjoy because this was another great piece to put together!

Also on AO3!

Jason stared at Tim’s limp body in the bed they’d set up in the Cave. He was hooked up to several machines that tracked his breathing and heartrate and even his brain patterns to make sure everything was operating as it should. He looked smaller than Jason remembered but he knew Tim had been deteriorating for a while.

That usually happened when the only thing a person was living off of were the liquid nutrients pumped into your veins.

Jason remembered the night when he’d first heard what happened to Tim. He was off on some mission with one of the many crazy scientists that always seemed to pop up. He’d been hit with a dart that injected something into his blood stream, causing him to fall unconscious.

They’d tried to isolate the component that was there, but it took a month to locate it and three more before they even had an initial test dose mixed. Their hope hadn’t lasted long when the injected dose caused Tim to have a seizure.

Jason was glad he hadn’t been present when that happened, but the hollow looks in both Dick’s and Bruce’s eyes had said more than enough, and when he watched the Cave’s footage later he had to slink off to a corner for a few hours to process what he’d seen.

After that instance they weren’t willing to try and make any more antidotes and started to research other cures.

Another two months passed before they decided to look at Tim’s brainwaves and the patterns that appeared. Even then it was only an accident they realized Tim’s brain activity constantly replicated that of someone in deep REM sleep.

It wasn’t common for coma patients to show signs of a deep sleep cycle which lead them to their next point of possible contact with Tim. If they could find some way to get into his head and communicate, they could find out what attacked him, or pull him out of what was holding him under.

And now they’d finally managed to develop a technology that could let them connect with Tim during his dreams. They could only hope that it would work, and they would be able to communicate with Tim in the middle of whatever dream he was living and had been living for the past year.

“We’re ready to go,” Bruce said, pulling Jason from his ruminating thoughts over Tim. “Are you ready, Dick?”

“More than ready,” Dick said where he was spread out on the table next to Tim. He was already connected to his own heart monitor and had a band around his head. “I’m ready to bring him back.”

Bruce nodded. “Close your eyes and even out your breathing.”

Dick sucked in a deep breath and held it before letting it out through his mouth. The twin beats on the heart monitors were loud in the silence between them.

“I’m booting up the machine now. You should be pulled under within the next ten or fifteen seconds.”

Bruce’s eyes stayed fixed on the screen which remained black as Dick’s breathing continued to even out. The image was dim and fuzzy at first and Jason squinted as he watched the screen come to life.

The view on the screen moved around quickly, much how a person would look at the streets around them.

“Is there anything we can do so we don’t have to watch through Dick’s eyes?” Jason asked. “This is making me nauseous and isn’t the best way to get an idea of his surroundings.”

Bruce hummed under his breath and tapped out several things on his computer. Jason blinked when the view on the screen shifted and they were watching Dick look at the buildings around him.

“I gotta admit, I wasn’t actually expecting that to work,” Jason muttered.

“I’m beyond understanding how most of this is operating at this point,” Bruce admitted. “There are a lot of factors here that I never expected to come into contact with in my life.”

“Fair enough,” Jason agreed.

Dick moved down the sidewalk, eyes fixated on the buildings around him as he took in what Jason was quickly realizing was Gotham. It was…lighter than Jason ever imagined Gotham could be. The streets looked clean and people looked happy and not as though they were distrustful of everyone around them or ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

“You know what we didn’t consider when we came up with this idea?” Jason asked. “The fact that we can’t talk to whoever’s under and we have to sit on the sidelines.”

“It would’ve taken longer to try and advance the tech we’re using enough to get to that point. If you’d like to keep researching while I map Dick’s progress, be my guest,” Bruce said.

Jason said nothing and watched as Dick jogged across the street and turned towards the largest skyscrapers the city housed. He made a beeline for Drake Industries after catching sight of the sign and the people walking in and out of the doors.

Dick pushed inside, ignoring the people who gave him curious looks at needing to be in the building when he wasn’t wearing a suit. He strode to the front desk and flashed his best smile.

“Hi, excuse me,” he said.

The woman working the front desk looked up and smiled politely. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

“I have a meeting scheduled with Tim Drake,” he asked.

She frowned and raised an eyebrow, giving Dick a onceover. “He’s currently in a meeting. What’s your name so that I can let you know you’re here?” she asked, voice filled with false politeness.

“Dick Grayson,” he answered easily.

She pursed her lips and looked over him again. “You certainly don’t appear to have the appearance of Mr. Grayson.”

Dick frowned. “I’m sorry, but what’s that supposed to mean?”

She waved her hand. “Nothing, nothing. I will pass on the notice of your visit to Mr. Drake and he can set up an appointment with you when he’s next available.”

Dick smiled. “Thank you so much. I appreciate the help.”

He turned on his heel and rolled his eyes before he strode over to the door, eyes scanning the room around him. He pushed through the doors and turned to the right, walking in front of the large windows so the secretary would see his departure and assume he was leaving.

Once he was out of sight, he made a beeline for the nearest crosswalk and jogged across the street to the other side. He shoved his hands in his pockets and strode back in the direction of Drake Industries, slipping into the alley across the street so he could watch the front doors without garnering suspicion.

He nestled into the shadows and kept watch as the sun slowly moved across the sky.

Jason accepted the tea and sandwiches Alfred brought around while they watched Dick wait in the alley. He didn’t budge from his spot and Jason wondered if he could feel hunger in the dream world. Or if he’d bother to eat if he did.

Bruce and Jason froze when they saw Tim push out of the double doors and turn towards the parking garage next door. He had a messenger back over his shoulder and was smiling, posture relaxed as he walked. The bags he usually had under his eyes were completely gone and he looked like he’d never missed a night’s sleep in his life.

Dick wasted no time when he appeared. He wove through the cars that were inching forward down the street and caught up to Tim in an instant.

“Tim!” he said, gripping his shoulder.

Tim gasped and whirled around, pulling out of his grasp. “Wha-what?” he asked. He stopped and squinted at Dick. “Who are you? You’re not looking for money, are you?”

Dick frowned. “No, Tim it’s me. It’s Dick.”

Tim took a step backward, eyeing him warily. “I don’t know anyone named Dick.”

Jason frowned and saw the expression mirrored on Dick’s own face.

“Dick Grayson,” he said slowly. “We’ve known each other for years.”

Tim’s earlier wariness disappeared, replaced with concerned. “I barely know Dick Grayson. The only time I’ve interacted with him has been at charity galas since he’s not involved with the work between Wayne Enterprises and Drake Industries. Look, is there someone I can call for you? Are you lost? Whoever you’re looking for, I’m pretty sure it’s not me.”

Dick plastered on a polite smile and took a step back, shaking his head. “No, I’m sorry. I guess the mistake was mine. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Tim nodded but still looked concerned. He backed up a step and hesitated but still managed to turn on his heel and walk off. Dick didn’t linger and turned in the opposite direction and hurried away, head ducked to everyone around him.

“What the hell just happened?” Jason asked.

Bruce shook his head. “Let’s find out.” He tapped on his keyboard and the picture slowly faded. Jason heard Dick’s breathing change and in a couple minutes he was blinking his eyes open and sitting up.

“What happened?” Bruce asked, turning to face him.

Dick sighed and pulled off the headband when he sat up. “I don’t know. He didn’t recognize me at all. I don’t know what’s going on but if we can’t get him to recognize us in there, I don’t think there’s any way to pull him out of the world he’s trapped in. Maybe you’d be more persuasive?” he asked, looking at Bruce with hopeful eyes.

Bruce hummed. “I guess that should be our next avenue. You remember how to operate this?” he asked with a wave to the console.

Dick nodded and passed the headband to Bruce. He pulled the wires connecting him to the heart monitor off and stuck them on Bruce, only a moment passing when the machine beeped in protest.

Bruce laid back on the bed and Dick started typing in commands on the computer. Bruce evened his breathing without being prompted and he fell asleep within seconds.

The screen faded into existence like it had the first time and Jason watched as Bruce appeared in the same place Dick had. The light was dim now that night was falling and Bruce quickly navigated the streets, aiming for the library.

Jason was confused as to what he was doing until he sat down at a computer and started researching things about Tim, zeroing in on his apartment complex. He copied down the address and wiped his search history before leaving the library and making his way through the streets towards the apartments.

None of the other people on the street gave Bruce their attention.

Jason squinted at the screen. “Hey,” he said, pointing at the people he passed. “Don’t these people look kind of out of it?”

Dick looked where he was pointing. “I guess? They’re not exactly real so I don’t think they’d behave the same way.”

“No, I know,” Jason said. “But earlier when you were around them, they had more personality, like they knew they were being watched.”

“Do you think it has anything to do with the time of the dream?” Dick asked. “Maybe because it’s night they have less of a reason to be in character I guess?”

“Maybe. I think we should keep an eye on them going forward though,” Jason muttered.

“This whole situation is weird,” Dick admitted. “Technology forcing someone into a dream coma wasn’t something I ever even could’ve imagined happening to us, but here we are.”

Jason sighed and nodded.

Bruce turned the corner on the screen and slowed to a stop in front of a resplendent apartment building. He looked up and over the windows, neck arching back when he tried to see to the very top. He turned towards the door and walked inside.

He smiled and nodded at the receptionist in the lobby and continued past towards the elevators. She smiled back and she didn’t even look suspicious at Bruce’s appearance.

Bruce stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the top floor. He crossed his arms and waited as the elevator steadily climbed before slowing and letting the doors slide open.

Bruce stepped out and strode down the center of the hallway, making for the door at the very end of the hallway set into the opposite wall. He knocked when he approached and waited.

Dick’s shoulders tensed as he waited and Jason leaned forward, waiting to see what would happen.

The door opened and Tim furrowed his brow. He looked up and down at Bruce and for a split-second Jason thought this might work.

“Bruce Wayne?” Tim asked, flabbergasted. “What are you doing here? Why would you need to come here?”

“I needed to inquire about something with you,” he answered smoothly.

Tim stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “And what would that be?”

Bruce clasped his hands behind his back and gave Tim a onceover. “I believe you met my adopted son earlier today. Dick Grayson?”

Tim hesitated. “I ran into someone claiming to be him, but he didn’t act how he usually does…” he started, tone careful as he tried to judge Bruce’s reaction.

Bruce nodded. “That was indeed my son. I’m sorry if he seemed fairly off-putting to you. He can be a bit intense at times.”

“I resent that,” Dick muttered under his breath next to Jason.

Jason rolled his eyes and continued to watch.

Tim nodded. “So, what did you want to discuss about him?”

“I just wanted to make sure that nothing unfortunate came from your interaction with him.”

Tim straightened. “If you’re worried that my opinion of him is going to affect our business deals, I can assure you that I’m not so unprofessional as to allow that to happen.”

“But you really don’t recall the galas where you’ve interacted?”

Tim frowned and shook his head. “We’ve only exchanged pleasantries a handful of times. I’m sure of that.”

Bruce nodded. “Well, I’m sorry to disturb your evening but I’ll leave you to your night.”

“Right,” Tim said. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” Bruce said and strode away.

As Bruce approached the elevator at the end of the hall, Jason and Dick saw where Tim was staring after him, still looking completely perplexed and confused.

Bruce stepped into the elevator and hit a random button. Once the doors slid shut, he looked around himself.

“Pull me out,” he instructed. “There’s nothing else I can do here.”

“I guess that’s it then,” Dick sighed, tapping away at the computer in front of him. The screen faded to black as Bruce shifted on the table behind them.

Jason glanced over his shoulder and wasn’t surprised to find he was sitting up much quicker than Dick had.

“What do we do now?” Jason asked.

Bruce pulled the headband from his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not sure why but whatever is keeping Tim under knows enough about both me and Dick that it can make us blend into Tim’s everyday life and memories.”

“Sooooo who can we send in to try and make Tim understand that he’s been in a coma for the past year and isn’t actually living his real life?” Dick asked.

Jason huffed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to see some solution for this problem. He wasn’t sure if multiple attempts by Bruce or Dick would change anything, but it would be worth a shot considering how long they’d waited as it was.

He glanced up and found Dick and Bruce looking at him.

“What?” he asked.

“You might be able to help Tim realize he’s living in his own head,” Dick said.

“What?” he repeated.

Bruce hummed and stood from the bed, ripping the patches from his chest that connected him to the heart monitor.

“We don’t know what kind of technology is working against us. If it has access to public records, it would know that because of Tim’s background we’re the two who Tim would most likely have come into contact with. There might be a workaround since you didn’t grow up with wealthy parents,” Bruce explained.

“And for all intents and purposes, you’re legally dead,” Dick pointed out.

Jason hesitated. “Do you really think this is going to work?”

“It’s the best we can do right now,” Dick agreed. “If this doesn’t work then we can regroup and figure something else out. Maybe we could all go in and confront Tim together instead of trying to do something one-on-one while Alfred watches over us.”

Jason sighed. “Okay,” he agreed. “I guess it can’t hurt anything.”

He picked up the patches and stuck them under his shirt, finally bringing an end to the shrill beep from the machine once it detected a heartbeat again. He shoved the headband on his head and stretched out on the hospital bed, shivering slightly.

He took deep breaths, trying not to think about what was about to happen. Bruce and Dick had both already been inside Tim’s head so there was no reason to worry about potentially adverse effects from it.

Jason heard the soft click of keys at the computer and almost thought the feeling of dozing was in his mind if his limbs weren’t becoming weighed down on the table. He closed his eyes, the tug more insistent now that he was being pulled under.

He furrowed his brow, feeling like he was floating for a moment but completely aware of his mind. The sensation was close to being underwater where the sounds around him were muffled.

A horn honked in the distance as he tried to swim upward to consciousness and understanding. Soft conversations floated around him and warmth spread over his skin as a bird chirped over his head.

Jason blinked and found himself standing in the middle of the sidewalk of Gotham city. The sun was low in the sky signaling the early morning hour. No one gave him a second thought even as he stayed put between the lines of traffic moving in opposite directions.

He took a deep breath and turned, glancing at the nearest street sign to orient himself. He was a couple street signs over from Drake Industries. He could only hope that he would be able to catch Tim before he made it to work.

Jason jogged down the street and hurried through a crosswalk before the light changed. He darted around several people walking in the opposite direction and narrowly avoided clipping someone carrying a drink carrier filled with coffee cups. He spotted the front of Drake Industries and slowed to a walk as he approached, searching for Tim amidst the crowd.

He looked across the street but didn’t see Tim anywhere. He wished he had a watch that was set to the current time in Tim’s head.

“Sorry, excuse me. So sorry. I’m sorry.”

Jason looked up and found Tim pushing between people strolling on the sidewalk. He looked flustered and panicked and his tie was crooked.

Jason jogged to intercept his path.

“Excuse me,” Jason started.

Tim glanced up at him, obviously ready to tell him he didn’t have the time when he froze, eyes going wide.

“You’re dead.”

Jason frowned. “What?” he asked.

Tim flailed backward, mouth opening and closing. He raised a hand and pointed at Jason. “You’re Jason Todd. You can’t be here. You’re dead.”

Jason glanced around and found a few people taking notice of Tim’s panicked state. He raised his hands to try and calm him down.

“Look Tim, just calm down for me for a minute. I just want to talk to you.”

“How-how do you know my name?” he asked, the color draining from his face.

“How do you know mine?” Jason countered.

Tim froze, his panic ebbing in the face of confusion.

“We’ve never met in person, have we?” Jason pressed.

Tim opened and closed his mouth. “I…I don’t know how I know your name,” he admitted. “Why do I know who you are?”

“Is there somewhere we can go to talk? A coffeeshop maybe? Somewhere we can have some privacy to talk that isn’t the middle of the sidewalk.”

Tim nodded, head going up and down frantically. “Yes. Yeah. There’s a shop just around the corner. Follow me.” He turned on his heel and started power-walking back the way he came.

Jason jogged to catch up and stuffed his hands into his pockets, keeping up with Tim easily. He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and Jason fought to remain relaxed and calm in the face of Tim’s uncertainty and panic and what was probably going to be fear once they worked through the reality of Tim’s situation.

Tim pushed through the wooden door of a small coffeeshop nestled between buildings.

“Do you want anything?” Tim asked, glancing at the counter.

“You don’t need to buy me anything,” Jason said quickly. “But I’d recommend getting green tea to calm down considering.”

Tim pursed his lips. “Feel free to find somewhere to sit.”

“Sure thing,” Jason said. He turned to the shop and spotted a table in the back corner away from the rest of the customers.

Jason walked to the corner and took the chair that kept his back to the wall, giving him a view of the shop and through the windows at the front of the building.

Tim dropped his bag next to the chair opposite Jason and sat down, hugging the cup tightly between his hands.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay,” he repeated, fighting to compose himself. “Can you explain to me why I know who you are even though I’ve never talked to you before?”

Jason sighed and leaned forward. “I know this might sound crazy and you might not believe me at first, but I hope that I can convince you what’s really going on. This, what you see around you,” Jason said, waving at the coffeeshop. “This isn’t real.”

Tim stared at him. “What?” he asked. “You can’t be serious, can you?”

Jason nodded. “I am. Whatever you do with Drake Industries, whatever life you’re living, it’s not really yours. You do work with Wayne Enterprises and you’re a fucking badass. You know how to kick butt like the best of us.”

“What do you mean ‘the best of us?’”

“You’re...” Jason huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re a vigilante. You fight crime at night and protect the people of Gotham and I do too. A year ago, you got hit with some technology that forced you into a coma. We’ve been trying to find some way to pull you out since and this is the first contact we’ve been able to make with you.”

Tim stared at him. “A vigilante? Me? I’m like, the weakest person ever. There’s no way I could legitimately fight someone.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “But you can. And you do a fucking amazing job at it.”

Tim continued to stare, and Jason had one fleeting moment of hope that Tim might believe him. They could get started on working out how to free Tim from his head and get him out.

Tim shook his head. “You’re crazy, I…that’s right you have to be crazy. None of this is actually real. It’s not that you’re dead, it’s that I don’t know you and you’re pulling my leg.” Tim nodded to himself as he continued to work through his rationalization. “I’m just exhausted and willing to be fed any lame story at this point. This is some elaborate prank. I’m sure my friends put you up to this.”

Jason’s stomach sank. “No, Tim wait.”

Tim shook his head. “I must really be stuck in a rut if I’m willing to even consider things like this,” he muttered as he grabbed his bag and made his way to the door.

“Fuck,” Jason muttered running his hands down his face. He gave himself a second to think before he shoved his chair back and stood, ready to follow Tim from the shop and make him understand.

The sounds around him became fuzzy as he took a step and he blinked, trying to clear his vision that darkened quickly. Nausea curled in his stomach and he coughed and wheezed when too-bright light shined over his head.

“What the fuck?” he asked, rolling onto his side to see Bruce and Dick watching him. “What the hell did you pull me out for?” he accused. “I could’ve tried something else.”

“We didn’t pull you out,” Bruce said slowly.

Jason stilled and pushed himself upright, carefully taking the headband off to cradle in his lap as the last wisps of nausea started to dissipate. “What?” he asked.

“We didn’t pull you out,” Dick repeated.

“Then how the hell am I back out here?” he asked.

Dick and Bruce shared a look before they shook their heads, helpless.

“It could be some form of interference from what’s been keeping Tim under. If it registered your presence that might’ve been its attempt to delete your code form it’s system but since you’re not part of it, it just temporarily deleted your presence and forced you back to the real world,” Bruce explained.

“But that can be a good thing, can’t it?” Jason asked. “If it was trying to delete my code, that means I can affect whatever world it’s created. It means I can influence Tim and have him realize what he’s been pulled into.”

“We’ll need to do more research to make sure there’s no way for this to kill you permanently,” Bruce warned.

Jason waved his hand and pulled the patches from his chest, tossing them onto the hospital bed. “Make sure it’s quick. We have a way to talk to Tim, we shouldn’t waste any more time than it’s already taken to get this far.” He walked around the hospital bed and shut off the heart monitor to stop it’s incessant beeping.

“We’ll get you back in as soon as we can,” Dick said, moving to the computer next to Bruce.

Jason nodded and set the headband on the hospital bed pillow. No matter what they found, he knew he was going to go under again. They had a chance to save Tim and they weren’t about to waste it no matter what the risk was going to be.

He looked at Bruce and Dick as they worked on the computer. He couldn’t do much when they hoarded the computer, but he wasn’t going to bug them. He was going to go upstairs and make himself a sandwich and share a pot of tea with Alfred while he worked through everything he’d just seen.

The technology was powerful beyond belief if it could change Tim’s attitude within the span of a few seconds. Tim had almost believed him. Jason was sure of it. He just needed to give him a little push to get him there.

He sighed and crossed the floor to the stairs that would take him back up to the Manor proper. He really needed that tea.

Tim sat down in the chair of his office, still clutching the cup of tea he’d gotten from the coffeeshop. He was trying to make sense of the whole encounter and he knew there couldn’t be any stock in it. He didn’t know the person he’d met. There was no reason for him to know him and it was nothing more than a sick joke.

He’d just been frazzled from oversleeping and needing to get ready for work. The day before had been weird too.

“Must be a full moon coming,” he muttered as he took a sip of the lukewarm tea some stranger had recommended. Normally he didn’t get anything other than coffee, but he was surprised that the tea had helped calm him down after his morning rush.

The only thing he needed to worry about was the work on his desk and making sure Drake Industries was running as it should. He could get through a day at work, he’d meet his friends for dinner and when he got home, he could fall into bed and sleep and push all of this from his mind.

Tim pulled his laptop from his back and logged in quickly, ready to try and distract himself with work. This was normal. This was where he was supposed to be, not having weird conversations with strangers in the back of a coffeeshop.

Tim found himself running down the street for the second time that day after work. His mission to distract himself had succeeded in making him lose track of time so he was running late for the dinner he’d planned with his friends.

Half the day had been spent staring off into space or reading the same sets of numbers three times before he realized his mind was still in the back of that coffeeshop with the strange man who’d approached him on the street.

Tim pushed through the door of the relaxed restaurant they’d picked and gave the hostess a smile as he passed, making a beeline for the booth his friends had already been seated at.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, taking the open seat on the aisle they’d left for him.

“What’s up with you today?” Frank asked. “You’re never late for dinner.”

“Just been distracted,” Tim said, smile tight.

“What’s going on?” Lisa added, bracing her forearms on the table. She was always eager for some gossip.

“The strangest thing happened to me this morning,” he admitted, fiddling with the thick menu in front of him.

That got the attention of the whole group and they all leaned in.

“This weird guy came up to me on the street this morning and for some reason I blurted out that he couldn’t be here because he’s dead. And then he took me to a coffeeshop and tried to explain to me that I’ve been in a coma for the past year and the world around me is a dream or something. Basically, that my life isn’t not real. I mean, I don’t know who set up this elaborate prank, but it was super weird.”

“He’s an idiot, whoever he is,” Lisa sniffed, sitting back and crossing her arms.

“Yeah a complete nutjob,” Frank agreed, frowning.

“He should be locked up for harassing someone on the street like that,” Trent scoffed. “I can’t believe you would let yourself be taken to a coffeeshop by that guy. He could’ve easily pulled you into an alley and mugged you or murdered you.”

Tim opened and closed his mouth, trying to find something to say. He’d expected some form of reassurance form them that it was just some weird joke or maybe even a confused person or conspiracy theorist. But he hadn’t expected them to get so hostile about a stranger he’d run into on the sidewalk.

It didn’t really make sense.

“Right, yeah,” Tim said, voice weak. “I’ll be more careful next time and won’t get drawn in by strangers.”

“Good,” Lisa said, her posture relaxing. “Now, what are you all thinking of getting?” she asked, flipping open the cover of her menu to look over the options she already knew by heart.

Tim swallowed and opened his own menu, for once wanting nothing more than to ditch his friends and their dinner in favor of crawling into bed to try and forget everything around him.

Maybe if the world around him was a dream, he could wake up into something better and less confusing the next morning.

“Okay what did you find out?” Jason asked, jogging down the steps to the Cave. “It had been a day since his first encounter with Tim and he was itching to get back into his head to talk to him again.

“We don’t think there’s any chance you could be killed by whatever technology is keeping Tim under,” Bruce said carefully.

“So, there’s no reason for me not to go back in,” Jason said simply. “Let’s do this then.”

He walked over to the table and jammed the headband on his head. He carefully stuck the patches from the heart monitor on his chest and turned it on, another steady beeping filling the Cave alongside Tim’s heart.

“We’re not sure you should go back in,” Bruce said.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Don’t even start, old man.” He ignored how Bruce wrinkled his nose. “This is the best chance we have to finally free Tim from this villain-induced prison and we should take it. I might be able to make some progress and if there’s less of a chance of this tech being able to kill me, all the better. We shouldn’t waste the one chance we’ve worked so hard to get.”

Bruce’s lips thinned but he nodded and moved over to the computer.

Jason took a deep breath and let his eyes slide shut.

The transition was easier this time and the world inside Tim’s head came into focus quicker than it had the first time. He opted to think that was because he’d done it once already and not for anything sinister.

Instead of appearing on the sidewalk where he had the first time, Jason found himself standing in the coffeeshop where Tim had walked away from him. No one around him seemed bothered by his appearance and Jason made his way for the front door, pushing out onto the sidewalk.

He strode towards the corner and blinked when Tim hurried down the sidewalk in front of him.

“Tim!” he called.

Tim froze, head whipping around to face him with wide eyes.

“Jason,” he breathed.

Jason frowned, taking in the bags under Tim’s eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, stepping forward. "You look like you haven’t slept.”

Tim nodded, finally pulling himself away from where he was frozen in the middle of the flow of people. He hurried over to Jason.

“You’re real,” he said, taking in every inch of Jason. “You really are real.”

“Of course I’m real. Why wouldn’t you think I’m real?” Jason scoffed.

Tim’s hysterical laugh pushed out of his chest unbidden. He cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder. “Do you mind if we go somewhere and talk?” he asked.

Jason shrugged and shook his head. “We could go back to the coffeeshop from yesterday,” he said, hiking a thumb over his shoulder.

Tim shook his head, features contorting in panic at the thought of speaking in public. “No, I’d rather…I’d rather go somewhere more private. Do you mind if you come back to my apartment?”

“Not at all…” Jason said.

Tim nodded, looking relieved. “Okay,” he sighed. “Okay.” He grabbed Jason’s hand and turned back the way he came.

Jason glanced at the people they passed but let himself get tugged along, not willing to put up any fight, especially when Tim was so tense.

They covered the street blocks at a quick clip. And Jason was surprised when no one spared them a second glance at their pace.

The apartment security guard glanced up at their entrance and seemed confused to see Tim back when he’d just left but he didn’t say anything at Jason’s appearance. Tim pulled him into the elevator and hit the top button. He repeatedly pressed the button to close the doors, but they still shut much slower than Tim would’ve liked.

He tapped his foot impatiently as they rose from one door to the next, the light cycling through the numbers at a snail’s pace.

“Tim, you can relax it’s okay,” Jason tried, keeping his voice gentle.

Tim shook his head. He glanced at Jason, eyes still wide and bit at his lip, chewing on the chapped skin.

“Finally,” he muttered when the elevator beeped at his floor and the doors slipped open. He tugged Jason out behind him and hurried down the hall, eyes locked on the door of his apartment.

He tugged his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door with one hand, not willing to let Jason go now that he’d shown his face again. He tugged Jason in behind him and slammed the door shut, sliding the deadbolt into place.

“There,” he sighed, bracing his hands against the door as his head dropped between his shoulders.

“Is everything okay?” Jason asked.

Tim’s hands slid down the wood with a soft scratch and swung at his sides. “No,” he admitted, finally turning to face Jason. “I thought I was going insane.” He gripped his hair and tugged. “You just showed up and told me that the world around me was fake and then you disappeared, and I haven’t seen you for a couple days.”

“A couple of days?” Jason asked. “It’s only been one day.”

Tim frowned and stared at him. “What?”

“Only a day has passed in the…outside,” he said.

They stared at each other for a moment.

“I guess time flows differently here?” Tim offered.

Jason ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “Okay, keep going. What else has happened?”

“My friends have gotten so hostile since I told them about our little chat the first time. They keep asking about you and I swear the last time I went to work, when I looked away from my computer, I could see blue code covering my screen but when I looked back, the spreadsheet I was working on was right there where I’d left it. Jason, I…I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m going to crazy and kept looking for you and when I couldn’t find you anywhere…I almost checked into a hospital,” he admitted, voice rising in his panic.

“Tim, Tim,” Jason said, gripping his wrists as he grew more hysterical. “Look at me.”

Tim reluctantly met his eyes and Jason could really see the kind of toll this was taking on him.

“Listen to me,” Jason said slowly. “You’re not going crazy. You’re not losing your mind. I’m real and I’m going to help you get through this. You need to get in control of the world around you. As real as everything might seem, you’re in charge here. All of this is built inside of your mind. Once you take control, you can end this and free yourself.”

Tim took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. Okay. I can do that. How do we do that?”

“I think the best place to start is to keep unraveling what’s around you. You said you saw blue code on your computer screen?”

Tim nodded.

“Look for that in other places. Break down the reality in front of you until there’s nothing left but your own thoughts.”

“Yeah, but how?” Tim asked. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Sure you can,” Jason insisted. “You’re smart. You have the best mind of all of us bats. If anyone can get out of this mess, it’s going to be you.”

“Okay, so let’s say you’re right,” Tim said carefully. “Let’s say I’m as smart as you say and can figure all of this out. I’ve got a business degree. I don’t know anything about undercover operations or whatever else.”

“Yes, you can do all of that. And you know how to fight. You can kick anyone’s ass who gets on your bad side.”

Tim stared at him like he was insane. He shook his head.

“There’s no-”

Jason huffed and threw a punch at Tim’s face. Tim took a step back to plant his rear foot and blocked the blow with his forearm. Jason smirked and stepped back, letting himself relax.

“See?” Jason asked. “I don’t think you’d be able to do that without any martial arts training.”

“I blocked a punch,” Tim said, staring down at his palms. “This is impossible.”

“No, it’s not,” Jason said, grinning down at him. “I think it’s time we got planning.”

“I guess I should make some coffee?” Tim suggested.

Jason chuckled. “That would probably be for the best.”

Tim waved Jason into the kitchen and changed the settings of his coffeemaker. He measured out two spoons and poured them into the top.

“Okay,” Tim said, sitting across the island from Jason as he left it to brew. “What are we going to do?”

“Like I said, work on finding those cracks in the world around you. You said your friends have gotten hostile since you first told them about me. I think they might be someone to watch out for. Stay guarded around them, especially if they start asking more probing questions.”

Tim nodded. “Right, yeah I can do that. This is going to take a while isn’t it?” he asked.

Jason shrugged and hesitated. “Probably yeah. Whatever’s been keeping you in a coma is pretty powerful stuff, so it’s not going to be easy.”

“How-” Tim stopped and hesitated. “How long have I been trapped in here?”

Jason pursed his lips. “It’s been…” He let out a heavy breath. “It’s been a year since you were hit.”

Tim paled and gripped the edge of the counter, swallowing harshly. “Really?” he squeaked.

Jason sighed and nodded. “Yeah. It took us a long time to figure out what was keeping you under. And then even longer before we managed to put together the tech to get us in here.”

Tim’s expression hollowed and Jason wanted to pull him close and tell him everything was okay. No one deserved to lose so much of their life.

“Ti-”

Jason pursed his lips together as the world blacked out around him and the sounds muffled before returning with an unfortunate pop. He groaned and pressed a hand against his head, blinking his eyes open to find the ceiling of the Cave arching high above him.

“What the hell?” he asked, turning to look at Dick and Bruce who both somehow looked perplexed.

“We didn’t pull you out,” Dick said, shaking his head.

“It’s the same thing that happened last time,” Bruce said with a frown. “Something recognizes you as a foreign presence and is forcing you from Tim’s head to keep from interfering.”

“Well you’ve got to get me back in there,” Jason insisted. “We were finally making a breakthrough.”

Bruce nodded and tapped against the keys of the computer. “Just relax and we’ll get you back in. I’m sure Tim’s confused enough as it is.”

Jason took a deep breath and let it out through his mouth. He closed his eyes and waited for the sensation of being pulled under. Several seconds passed and it didn’t come. He frowned and opened his eyes, turning to look at Bruce.

“Anytime now, old man,” he said.

“It’s not working,” he said, frowning. “Something’s blocking the signal from connecting. I’ll keep working on it. Just stay there.”

Jason sighed and nodded, raising his head and slamming it back down into the pillow under his head. He was tired of waiting. They’d waited a year before they got to talk to him and now he was going to have to wait again. Tim was going to have to wait for him to come back.

Jason was sipping from the glass of water Alfred had brought for him while he was waiting when he felt the first tug. He stretched towards the small table and set the glass down, making himself comfortable when he closed his eyes and found the sounds changing around him.

He opened his eyes and found himself back in Tim’s apartment as something shattered.

Tim was standing next to his coffeepot, staring at him with wide eyes. “You’re back,” he whispered. “I thought you weren’t coming back, Jason, I…I thought-”

Jason shook his head. “We had some trouble getting me back into your head. I didn’t mean to be gone for so long. How long was I gone anyway?”

“It’s been three days,” he whimpered, sounding and looking small.

Jason let out a breath and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t do it on purpose.” He looked at Tim and he nodded.

Tim cleared his throat and bent to start cleaning up the shards of the mug he’d dropped.

“So, what’s happened while I’ve been gone?” he asked.

Tim tossed the ceramic shards into the trash and wet a washcloth to clean up the coffee covering the floor and cabinets.

“My friends asked about you again, but I did my best to make everything seem as normal. They’ve calmed down a bit and seem less suspicious than they did right after I told them about our first meeting.”

“Have more cracks started to appear?” Jason asked.

Tim nodded. “A few. They always disappear when I’m looking at something directly, but it’s like nothing really exists in my periphery anymore. I think my…I think the people who I thought were my friends are watching me. I don’t know if I need to fight them or what, but I’m worried something will have to happen with them.”

Jason grinned. “Well, I do like a good fight. And it is the fastest way to get results. Are you thinking we do this Matrix style?”

Tim frowned. “What style?” he asked.

Jason stared. “You can’t tell me you’ve never seen the Matrix?”

Tim shook his head.

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “I swear to god whatever tech is keeping you stuck in your head better be the reason you don’t know this movie. If it’s not, we’re going to be watching this as soon as we get you out of here.”

Tim chuckled and bit his lip. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“What am I like? Outside in the real world? I know you said I’m a good fighter and good with whatever work it is you do, but…what do I do in real life?”

“Well you know the whole vigilante bit,” Jason said, walking around the kitchen island to brace his hands against it. “Other than that, you’re in college. Doing something with computer science, I think. Or maybe business. Or both, I’m not really sure at this point. So, you’ve got a bunch of homework and classes you sometimes go to and other times sleep through. At least that’s what I’ve heard anyway… And then you’ve got your work at W.E.-”

“Wait,” Tim interrupted, holding up a hand as he smiled. “W.E. as in Wayne Enterprises? I work at Wayne Enterprises?”

Jason shrugged and nodded. “You pretty much run it since Bruce doesn’t give a shit. He’s more concerned with flying around at night in spandex.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “I’m going to have a conversation with Bruce once I get back,” he said, tone low and threatening.

Jason grinned. “He’s watching right now. I’m surprised he hasn’t come in here to confront you already.”

Tim chuckled and ducked his head. He was quiet for a moment and Jason knew he was working himself up to ask his next question.

“What’s…what’s our relationship like?” Tim whispered. “Are we like…friends or what?”

Jason shifted on his stool, trying to figure out how to explain their complicated history. “We…aren’t really friends, I guess? We didn’t have such a good history when we first met each other. Kind of hated each other a bit not gonna lie, but we worked through that in time and we’re on pretty good terms now.”

Tim frowned and didn’t look very happy at what Jason said. “Do you think…is it possible that once I get out of here, could we be friends? I don’t think I want to go back to whatever things were like between us.”

Jason smiled. “Sure, Tim. We can try to be friends once you’re out of your head.”

“Thanks, Jason,” Tim whispered. “For everything, I guess.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Jason warned. “We have to get you out of here first.”

Tim huffed a laugh and smiled. He looked up at Jason through his eyelashes. He opened his mouth to say something else when Jason disappeared in front of his eyes, winking out of existence as soon as he’d come.

Tim frowned and sighed. He knew it wasn’t Jason’s fault that he was pulled out and it was whatever was messing with him and keeping him trapped in his own head, but it still made his chest ache. He’d have to fight harder and get out of his head. He just hoped that whenever Jason showed up, he’d be able to help him fight whatever was keeping him trapped.

Tim slammed his hand down on the alarm clock next to his head. He groaned and sat up and rubbed his eyes. The sun was just starting to peek through the blinds in front of his window, but he wasn’t in a hurry to jump in the shower and head to the office. He’d never go to the office again. At least, not the one inside his own head.

He threw off the covers and pushed himself out of bed, grabbing a pair of jeans and a hoodie on his way to the bathroom. He made a face at his reflection and ran a hand through his hair, trying to pat it down and make it look presentable.

He stripped out of his pajamas and left them in a pile on the floor before pulling on his change of clothes. He sighed and ran through the mental list of supplies he’d put together the night before.

Somehow, someway, he’d managed to find a small shop that sold weapons and fighting knives. He’d also found reviews that listed the shop as selling smoke grenades and flash bombs. Tim wasn’t sure if that was legal or not, but he didn’t care when his main goal was to gather enough supplies to fight the people keeping him locked in his head.

Tim stuffed his wallet and phone into the pocket of his hoodie and slipped his arms through an empty backpack. He grabbed his keys and gave one last look around his apartment, eyes landing on the seat where he’d last seen Jason during his visit the night before.

He expected to come back once he got his supplies, but this was his chance to break free of whatever was holding him inside his head. The idea of freedom and having control over his life once again was thrilling and already forcing adrenaline into his veins as he prepared for the fight to come.

Tim locked the door of his apartment behind him with a strange sense of finality. He glanced down the hallway and found it empty, not that he really expected much else. His footfalls were heavy on the wooden steps leading to the first floor.

He nodded at the security guard who gave him a curious look at seeing him out of his normal business clothes. Tim pushed through the front door and stepped into the warm, morning sunlight.

He stepped to the edge of the sidewalk and raised his hand, unsurprised when a cab stopped for him and let him inside. He rattled off the address of the shop and settled in for the ride once they pulled away from the curb.

Now that Tim thought about it, he’d never had an issue catching a cab even in the worst of Gotham’s traffic. Someone always stopped to pick him up. Normally, he was dressed in something nicer because of his day at the office or whatever show he’d attended for the night, but now that he was in an unimpressive pair of jeans and a nondescript hoodie, it was less likely he would’ve gotten a ride so easily.

The larger and more ostentatious buildings fell away into something uniform. The businesses were smaller, the street corners marked by international food sellers and corner markets for minor grocery shopping.

The cab slowed and pulled over to the curb.

“That’ll be $21.25,” the cabby said, holding his hand over his shoulder.

Tim passed him a twenty and a five and pushed out of the car, shutting the door behind him. The cab hesitated a moment before it pulled away and Tim strode to the bar-covered door of the small shop. He pulled it open, a loud electronic beeping sounding over his head.

The shopkeeper looked up and narrowed his eyes at Tim. He straightened and Tim could see the muscles stretched the sleeves of his shirt.

“Can I help you?” he asked, voice low and gruff and filled with suspicion.

“I’d like to purchase a few things,” Tim said, turning to face him, but not closing the distance.

The man lifted his chin. “Have at it then.”

Tim nodded and started down the first aisle. He spotted an array of collapsible, aluminum bo staffs. He lifted one form the rack and extended it with a flick of his wrist. The metal was cool in his hand, but the weight was comforting. He tilted it back and forth, testing the balance.

He nodded to himself and pressed the ends together to collapse it and carry through the store with him.

The knives were next, and Tim picked up four of them, going for the simplest design that had the best weight and balance. He stacked them on top of the staff resting in his palm.

Tim passed the aisle with escrima sticks and smaller weapons until he found the small flash bombs and smoke grenades. He piled as many in the crook of his arm as he could hold. He wasn’t sure how handy they’d be in his fight since he was flying blind, but at this point it was a life or death situation and whatever money he did have wouldn’t do him any good if he lost.

He doubted he’d be allowed to gallivant around in his own head now that he was making an effort to escape and break the hold he was under.

Tim eased the armful of goods he had onto the counter, not wanting any of them to roll off or to accidentally set of the bombs he needed to purchase.

“Quite the array of things you’ve got there,” he said, raising an eyebrow. He lifted the bo staff and expertly extended it. “Nice choice with this one. Perfect for your form actually. And the knives are paired well with it,” he added, balancing one of them on his finger. “What exactly do you need the rest for?” he asked, eyeing Tim over the smoke and flash bombs.

Tim shrugged. “That’s not really important, is it?” he asked, pulling out a wad of cash. “How much?”

He crossed his arms and looked down his nose at Tim. “$250.”

Tim raised an eyebrow and knew that the price of everything he’d picked up was closer to $180. He watched the shopkeepers’ eyes as he first peeled off ten twenty dollar bills. He continued, adding three more to the stack, but he didn’t stop there, adding more to the pile until there was $500 sitting on the counter.

He slid the bills across the counter and the shopkeeper gaped at him. He looked between the bills and Tim. “Who are you?”

Tim pocketed the rest of the money he’d brought with him. “That’s none of your concern.”

He shook his head and swiped the money from the counter, stuffing the bills into the register. “I swear you better not be doing anything weird with that. I don’t need the cops hunting me down because you’re going on some freaky murder spree.”

“Don’t worry,” he assured, slipping his arms out of the straps of his backpack to load his purchases into it. “It’s nothing like that. You’re going to be perfectly safe.”

The shopkeeper didn’t look convinced, but Tim didn’t much care as he turned on his heel and walked out of the store.

The electronic beeping sounded over his head and Tim blinked as the ground shifted under his feet and the stores around him disappeared and were replaced by a large, empty parking lot.

Tim scowled at finding his “friends” standing across form him, all wearing matching grins dripping with malice.

“I’d like to say this is a pleasant surprise,” Tim said, swinging the backpack around to pull the bo staff from it. “But this isn’t pleasant or a surprise.” He extended the bo with a flick of his wrist and settled back into a fighting stand, spreading his feet so they kept the weight distributed under his shoulders.

Lisa rolled her eyes. “You were always such a bore, but I truly thought you’d never be smart enough to put the pieces together.”

“Should’ve known you were the ring leader, Lisa,” Tim said. “You always were the most demanding of the bunch.

She sneered at him. “You can try and insult me as much as you like but I’m so glad I don’t have to watch over your scrawny ass anymore.”

“I was getting tired of all the monotonous lunches and dinner parties,” Trent agreed, rolling his head.

“And now we can force you to stay here forever and actually enjoy ourselves instead of playing along with this ridiculous charade,” Frank added.

“Too bad for you, I’m not planning on staying trapped in here any longer. I’m going back to my life that you stole me away from. And I’m going to track down the maniac who decided it would be fun to leave me stuck in here. I’m going to make him regret ever coming into contact with me.”

“Doubtful,” Lisa said, tilting her head to the side at an unnatural angle. “Trent, Frank, go have some fun.”

They grinned and sprinted towards him. Trent was faster than Frank and got to him first. Tim parried his first punch with the staff and used the added range of it to swing the bo around and knock the opposite end against the side of Trent’s head.

He staggered back, clutching the side of his head as Frank closed the distance between him and Tim. Tim thrust the end of his staff to hit him in the chest, but Frank caught the end of his bo between his hands and twisted, yanking Tim towards him.

Tim grit his teeth and dropped his weight, leaning backwards as Frank tried to make a grab for him. Keeping the staff gripped tightly in one of his hands, Tim smacked Frank’s hands to the side and swung forward, knocking his forehead into Frank’s nose.

He shouted in pain and staggered backwards, releasing Tim’s staff to clutch at his bleeding nose. An arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him back in a chokehold against Trent’s chest. Tim grit his teeth and reflexively gasped, but no oxygen entered his lungs.

He swung his staff over his head and knocked Trent on the head. The grip relaxed around his throat as Trent groaned in pain and Tim took the chance to stomp on his foot and twist in the grip. He broke the hold and stepped forward, swinging his elbow behind him to connect with Trent’s temple.

Tim ducked under the arm Frank extended in his direction and dropped his bo, wrapping his hands around Frank’s forearm and bicep. He hunched forward and threw Frank over his back and onto the ground, forcing the air from his lungs.

Tim swiped the bo from the ground and put space between himself and Frank and Trent while he dug around his backpack for two daggers. He collapsed his bo and stuck it in the pocket of his hoodie.

Frank struggled to sit up as Trent charged at Tim again. Tim ducked under his hold and thrust the dagger into his chest, slicing between his ribs and into his heart.

Trent choked, staring at Tim with wide eyes as blood slipped out of the wound and coated Tim’s hands crimson. He staggered backward and looked down at his chest where the hilt of the dagger protruded from his chest.

He coughed and blood dribbled from his lips, covering his chin and dripping onto his shirt. Tim turned back to Frank and heard a thump behind him as Trent fell to the ground. Frank was struggling to sit up and Tim swung out his leg, connecting with the side of his head to send him rolling across the floor.

He groaned as he came to a stop on his stomach and Tim stalked over to him, aware of Lisa’s eyes on him. He used the toe of his sneaker to roll Frank onto his back. He switched the hold on his dagger and raised it over his head before he knelt and plunged the blade into Frank’s chest.

Frank stiffened, a wounded sound wrenching itself from his throat. He fought to grip Tim’s arm and force the dagger from his chest, but his strength was weak and he didn’t have much leverage.

His movements slowed as he coughed, blood sliding out of the side of his mouth. Tim stood and turned away from his limp body, finding Lisa sneering at the dead bodies of her comrades.

“Useless,” she muttered. “You know what they say, never trust anyone else with the important tasks.”

Tim rolled his eyes. He pulled the last two daggers from his backpack and gripped them tightly in his hands. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m going to get rid of you now.”

She cackled and held out her hand, a jagged-blade dagger appearing in her hand. “I think you misunderstand. It’s your turn to die.”

Tim grinned and raised the daggers in his hands like he would if he was going to fight hand-to-hand. “You’re wrong.”

“Oh?” she asked, looking displeased.

“I can’t die in my own head.”

Her grin turned feral. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

Tim staggered back when Lisa appeared in front of him, slashing the dagger across his chest. It ripped through the fabric of his hoodie with a sick sound and drew a thin line of fire on his chest.

He hurried backwards, putting space between them as warmth seeped from his chest. He could tell it was shallow thanks to his hoodie, but it wouldn’t hold up against attacks that fierce for long.

Tim lowered his stance and growled. Lisa didn’t give him a chance to close the distance before she was in his space again, but he was prepared for her this time. He parried her blows, metal slicing against metal loud enough to raise goosebumps on his arms.

He was thankful for both of his daggers against her singular weapon and from the glimmer in Lisa’s eyes, he doubted she’d materialize another weapon considering how much she was enjoying the challenge of fighting him.

Tim caught her blade on the hilt of his dagger and swiped out with his other dagger, tearing the collar of her shirt and slicing the skin underneath.

She growled as blood seeped into her shirt and she drew her blade back, slicing down where Tim had been a second ago, but he spun to the side, putting a few feet of distance between them.

“Not bad,” she purred, stalking towards him. “Not bad at all for someone who forgot how to fight.”

“I’ve never forgotten,” Tim spat. “It’s always been there, waiting for me to use.”

He darted forward to make a counterattack, wincing when her blade cut into his bicep and was held their as the muscle flexed. He gripped her shirt and placed the edge of his blade against her neck.

“Whatever wounds you give me now are going to be gone as soon as I wake up.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said, chuckle strangled and low in the back of her throat as she arched her head away from his blade.

“But I am sure that I don’t need to trust anything say,” he snarled, dragging his dagger across her throat.

Her eyes widened and Tim dropped her to her feet. She staggered backwards, hands going to her throat as blood poured from the wound and coated her shirt.

Tim closed his eyes, finally feeling at ease as everything fell away around him.

Jason leaned against the hospital bed, chewing on a sandwich Alfred had brought him when Tim’s heartrate spiked. He swallowed and looked at Tim’s body and then the monitor keeping track of his vitals.

“What’s happening?” Jason asked, looking at Bruce who’d frozen at the computer.

He strode over and shook his head. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“No shit,” Jason said. “Tim’s never done this before.”

Bruce picked up a small penlight and lifted Tim’s eyelid, looking into his eyes. “No response,” he muttered.

“Send me in,” Jason said, shoving the headband onto his head.

“What?” Bruce asked.

“Send me in. Something could be happening in his head and he might need help.”

Bruce’s lips thinned and he nodded. He moved over to the computer as Dick and Alfred rushed down the stairs and sprinted over to them.

“What’s going on?” Dick asked.

Jason shook his head. “We don’t know, but I’m going in to see if I can help.” He stretched out on the table, keeping his eyes on the ceiling as he tried to ignore Tim’s frantic heartbeat and how it made his chest ache.

“I’m transferring you in now,” Bruce said.

Jason let out a heavy breath and waited for the tug that dragged him under. It didn’t come and he furrowed his brow.

“It’s not working,” he said, turning his head to look at Bruce.

Bruce frowned. “Something’s wrong. It’s like what happened after you were forced out of Tim’s head. It’s just not letting you in.”

Jason growled and sat up, tearing the headband off. He opened his mouth to say something else when the rhythmic beating of Tim’s heart ended and a long line of noise emanated from the machine.

Everyone froze for a moment, eyes snapping to Tim before they jumped into action. Alfred rushed for the AED and Jason jumped from his bed, hurrying to Tim’s side as Dick checked his breathing.

“He’s not breathing,” Dick murmured.

“No shit,” Jason said. He lined his hands up in the center of Tim’s chest and immediately started compressions. “I’m not going to let him die. Not after everything he’s been through.”

He paused his compressions as Dick gave him two rescue breaths before counting under his breath again. Alfred appeared at his side with the AED and cut a line down Tim’s shirt around Jason’s hands. He pulled it away and peeled the paper backing from the pads and stuck them to Tim’s chest.

Jason listened to the mechanical voice read out the instructions and reluctantly pulled back as it readied the shock. A blip sounded on the heart monitor, but monotonous tone continued without interruption. Jason grit his teeth and returned to his chest compressions as the machine readied the next charge.

“Come on,” Jason growled.

He pulled his hands back once the machine prompted him and two blips sounded on the heart monitor this time, but Tim’s heart stayed dead.

He saw Dick’s hands shaking as he framed Tim’s face for the rescue breaths.

“Come on, Tim. Come back to us,” he pleaded under his voice.

He pulled back for the third charge, holding his breath as Tim’s heart held steady for a handful of beats before stilling again.

“Again,” he growled. “Again.”

Each time the AED shocked Tim, his heart held on a little longer, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Jason,” Dick murmured when he started compressions again.

“No,” he snarled, not taking his eyes off Tim’s drawn face. “I’m not giving up on him. We’re going to save him.”

He pulled back his hands at the machine’s prompting and waited, balancing on his toes as the shock was given. He prepared to start compressions again when he realized Tim’s heart hadn’t stopped like it had the other times.

Withered hands shoved him away from the table. Jason stumbled back and watched as Alfred began to check over Tim’s body.

“Is he…” Jason started.

“I’m not sure yet, Master Jason,” Alfred said, voice tense. “I need to check him over before I can determine anything, and he still needs to wake.”

Jason nodded and Bruce moved to the other side of the table, offering assistance where he could.

“Come on,” Dick said, pulling Jason towards the stairs. “You’re not doing any good here and you might as well get some rest while you wait and stay out of the way.”

Jason stared down at the cold cup of tea framed between his palms. His leg bounced under the table as he waited for any update on Tim’s condition. Dick had tried to keep him occupied but Jason’s mind was far below the Manor in the Cave.

“Master Jason?”

Jason shoved his chair back and jumped to his feet, knocking over the cup in his hand and sending tea over the table.

“How is he?” he blurted.

Alfred smiled despite the mess he’d just created and stepped to the side, holding the door open for him. “He’s awake and stable. Be gentle with him.”

Jason nodded and sprinted from the room. He heard Dick’s voice behind him but couldn’t make out what was being said.

He jumped the last few steps to the Cave floor and sprinted for the hospital bed. Bruce was standing at Tim’s side and he’d been propped up with several pillows. Tim smiled at him as he approached.

“You’re okay,” Jason said, eyes roving over his gaunt features. “I thought you were going to die but you’re okay.”

Tim nodded. “Bruce said my heart stopped,” he rasped, voice weak from disuse.

Jason swallowed. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” Tim said.

Jason stepped closer, wanting to touch but he forced his hands to stay at his sides. “What happened in there?”

“He fought the physical manifestation of the technology keeping him trapped in his head,” Bruce answered. “The last attack on the ringleader of sorts happened when his heart stopped. We think it might’ve been a failsafe to kill Tim if they couldn’t keep him incapacitated in his head.”

Jason nodded. “But everything’s okay now, right?” he asked, eyes darting from Bruce to Tim and back.

“As okay as I can be after losing an insurmountable amount of muscle mass,” Tim quipped.

The corner of Jason’s lips quirked up at the joke. “And you remember everything?”

Tim nodded. “Everything you told me and everything that you didn’t have time to tell me.”

“Good,” Jason sighed. “Good.”

“We’ll start physical therapy in the morning,” Bruce said, resting a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “For now, we’ll keep you down here and feed you light food so as not to upset your stomach.”

“I’m ready,” he said, lips thinning with determination. “I’ve lost enough time and I’m ready to get back to my life.”

Bruce nodded at Jason before he left them behind. Jason looked over his shoulder to track Bruce’s movements and waited until he was out of the Cave before he said anything.

“I really am glad you’re okay,” Jason muttered.

“I know, Jason. Alfred told me you wouldn’t stop doing chest compressions even after my heart stopped so many times. Thank you…without you I’d still be stuck in my head and probably wouldn’t have any form of escape since Bruce and Dick couldn’t get through to me when they tried.”

Jason’s cheeks heated and he cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I also remember the Matrix which I have indeed seen and you making that reference makes so much more sense now,” Tim added.

“It’s a good movie,” Jason supplied.

“It is,” Tim agreed. “You feel like watching it?”

Jason furrowed his brow and looked at Tim.

“I’m sure we can pull it up on the computer and watch it on the big screen. I just wish I could have some popcorn.”

Jason grinned and hurried around to the head of Tim’s hospital bed. “I know what we’re going to do now.”

Jason chewed on his lip where he was standing several feet from Tim’s hospital bed. Tim’s face was screwed up in pain and as weak as his grip was, he was clutching the edges of his hospital bed as Alfred worked to move and flex the muscles of his legs that had atrophied from disuse.

Several days had already passed since he’d woken up and he was able to hold down thick broths and soup, but the physical therapy was slow going.

Tim’s forehead was covered with droplets of sweat and he breathed harshly through his nose as he forced his head back into the pillow behind him while he suffered through the exercises Alfred was giving him.

Jason hated seeing him in so much pain, but he knew Tim wasn’t going to let this kind of thing keep him down, not when he had a life to get back to. Staying in bed forever didn’t suit him and he’d gone crazy after a day confined to the bed even when they tried to entertain him with movies and the internet.

“We’re almost done with this leg, Master Timothy,” Alfred said, gentle voice soothing despite the pain he was in. “And then you’ll have a short break and can drink some water before we get started on the other side.”

Tim nodded, teeth clenched shut from concentration and pain.

“And there we are,” Alfred said, stretching out his leg on the mattress.

Tim breathed deeply and let his fingers relax. He sank back into the pillows and Jason could see the exhaustion pulling at him.

“Hey,” Jason said, stepping up next to the bed.

Tim’s head rolled to the side to meet his gaze and Jason could see the emptiness lingering with Tim’s frustration. Jason smiled and squeezed his trembling hand.

“You’re doing great. At this rate you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

Tim winced and nodded even if he didn’t believe it.

“Alright, Master Timothy, let’s start on the other side.”

Jason stepped away, giving Alfred better access as he lifted Tim’s opposite leg and began to work the muscles. Tim sucked in a breath and his fingers returned to clawing at the mattress, but he suffered through the pain the best he could.

Tim groaned when Jason lowered him into the steaming water of the bath. He leaned heavily against the side of the tub and Jason perched on the edge, running his fingers through Tim’s sweaty strands.

“You doing okay?” Jason asked, giving Tim a moment to enjoy the warmth before he got around to helping wash him.

Tim shrugged, eyes sliding shut as he let out a heavy breath. “I’m tired,” he muttered. “And everything hurts, and I just want to get back to my life.” He sniffed and Jason watched him purse his lips together in what he knew was an effort to keep from getting emotional.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jason said, sliding off the edge of the tub to kneel at Tim’s side. “It’s going to be okay.”

Tim met his gaze and sniffed, tears shining in the corners. “I’ve already lost so much though.”

“But you’re back now and you’re getting stronger every single day.”

“I feel weak,” Tim huffed, looking at the tub around him. “I feel like I’m never going to be strong again and there’s no way that I’m ever going to be out of that fucking hospital bed and I just want to be able to walk across the floor which I can’t even do because the muscles in my legs aren’t even strong enough for me to stand.”

Jason cupped Tim’s face and swiped his thumb through the tears sliding freely down Tim’s cheeks.

“You may not see how strong you’re getting, but I can see it. I can see how incredible you are and how amazing and badass what you’re doing is. So many people wouldn’t be able to come back from something like this, but you get up every day and you fight and you’re going to be able to walk again. You’re doing to be able to stand. You’re going to be able to fight.”

Tim gripped his wrists and Jason forced himself to hold Tim’s gaze instead of glancing down at his thin fingers that were barely able to reach around his wrists.

“It’s going to take a while and you’re going to need to be patient, but I know you’re not going to be like this forever. You can do this, Tim. And if you had to choose between having your full range of movement but still stuck in your head, and having to go through months of physical therapy while being in control of your life, wouldn’t you choose this every time?”

Tim let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Yes. I don’t want to be stuck in my head. I never want to be that helpless again. But why did this even have to happen? Why was I there? Why did I have to get hit? Why did I have so much taken from me?” he whispered.

Jason swallowed, trying to keep his heart from shattering into a million pieces in his chest.

“I don’t know, Tim. I don’t know why this happened to you and you’re the one who has to go through this.”

Tim’s face crumpled and he choked on a sob. Jason sighed and pulled him into an awkward hug over the side of the tub. He didn’t hold him too tightly, still afraid that he might break Tim’s brittle form, but he tried to project as much comfort into the hug as he could.

“It’s going to be okay, Tim. You’re going to beat this and you’re going to be amazing for it.”

Tim nodded against his shoulder, heaving breathless sobs into his shirt.

Jason held him as he cried, fighting down his own emotions. He’d have a chance to feel and process everything that was happening later. Tim didn’t need to see his weakness when he was already in such an emotional state.

Once Tim had his breathing under control, Jason pulled back and wiped the last lingering tears from Tim’s cheeks.

“Are you ready to get cleaned up now or do you need another minute?” he whispered.

Tim shook his head. “I’m okay now.” He glanced at the tub and shivered.

“Is it too cold?” Jason asked.

Tim shrugged. “I just don’t retain heat as well as I used to,” he muttered.

Jason dipped his fingers into the water, finding it just above the side of lukewarm. “I’ll drain some water and add some hotter water to warm it up,” Jason said, reaching for the plug.

He let it drain, keeping an eye on Tim as he crossed his arms and shivered as the waterline dipped lower down his stomach. Once it reached his waist and the band of his briefs he wore in the tub, Jason stoppered the drain and turned on the tap to fill with hot water.

As the tub filled, he grabbed a washcloth and lathered soap into it, rubbing gentle circles into Tim’s skin to clean off any accumulated dirt and sweat that had collected. Tim sighed and leaned forward as he cleaned his back, relaxing under the gentle touch.

Jason smiled, more than happy to help Tim in any way he could.

Once he was finished washing Tim, he grabbed the showerhead and pulled up the diverter, rinsing the soap from Tim’s form.

He prodded Tim until he tilted his head back and ran the water through his long strands, wetting them thoroughly.

“We’re going to need to cut your hair soon,” Jason murmured.

“Yeah,” Tim agreed. “It’s getting too long. Keeps getting in the way.”

“I could shave it,” Jason said with a smile. “Give you a nice buzzed look so you don’t have to worry about it growing out too quickly.”

Tim’s lips twisted into a grimace. “If you do that, I’ll look like a cancer patient.”

“We’ll just give you a lot of beanies to wear so you don’t have to worry about people staring at your head.”

“I think I’ve got plenty in my closet. Wait-” he said, jolting up.

Jason’s hands immediately went to his shoulders to steady him and his weak muscles. “Woah, calm down. What is it?”

“What happened to all of my stuff?” Tim asked, looking up at him. “I had an entire apartment with clothes and furniture and, shit, food in there.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Jason said, pushing him to relax. “We cleaned out the fridge within a week of you falling into the coma and Bruce has paid rent on your place. Alfred even went by once a month to clean. Everything’s still there so no need to panic.”

Tim let out a long breath and closed his eyes. “Good. I guess I shouldn’t be so concerned over material things, but-”

“Hey,” Jason said, voice gentle as he washed Tim’s hair. “It’s understandable. That was your place and you had a life there, but it’s nothing you can’t go back to. Your neighbors might just be a little surprised to see you around again.”

“Yeah…” Tim said and let Jason continue in silence.

Jason fidgeted outside of Tim’s bedroom. He’d long since moved out of the Cave now that he was getting stronger. He was getting better at walking but any long distances he needed to cover were still done in a wheelchair. Jason was beyond proud of the progress he’d been making and even though Tim still had his bad days, he was happier about his current state now that he could move around just a little more easily.

Jason raised his hand and rapped on Tim’s door.

“Come in,” Tim called.

Jason let out a heavy breath and wrapped long fingers around the doorknob before he turned it and pushed inside. “Hey.”

Tim looked up from where he was lying in bed, his laptop in his lap. He smiled. “Hey. What’s up? You didn’t come to pull me away from my work, did you?”

Jason rolled his eyes, feeling some of his anxiety and worry ease. “Of course not. Normally I’d be all too happy to pull you away from the computer but you’re intent on getting caught up with your college classes and I can’t really blame you for that.”

“Good,” Tim said. “Although I might be persuaded to put it away if Alfred’s cookies are involved.”

“Good to now,” Jason said, trailing off as he fought to get the words out for what he’d really come to ask.

“Is something wrong?” Tim asked, eyes raking over him intensely.

“I…I just wanted to ask you something,” he mumbled.

Tim straightened and closed the lid of his laptop, setting it to the side as he gave Jason his attention. “Sure, what’s up?”

“I know this might seem a little sudden or weird, but I was kind of hoping that…I mean you know we’ve been getting closer to each other since you woke up and we definitely don’t have the same hostility as we did before, but that doesn’t mean you want the same things I want and-“

“Jason,” Tim said, gentle smile pulling the corners of his lips upwards. “Just ask the question.”

“Would go out? I mean, would you go out? With me? On a date?” He cringed after getting the last question out, hating that he couldn’t do this eloquently.

Tim stared at him, blinking rapidly as he fought to process the question Jason had asked. “What?” he blurted.

“I’d like to go out on a date with you,” Jason clarified.

“But why?”

Jason frowned. “What do you mean why?”

“Why would you want to go out with me? I can barely walk. I look ill. Where are we going to go where I’m not going to be stared at like I’m some zoo animal?”

“You’re getting better and looking healthier every day,” Jason said, frowning as his defenses rose over Tim. “And no other person in the world has any right to know what’s going on in your life or why you look the way you do. They’re assholes and you have every right to go out into Gotham and live your life. Just because they don’t understand or aren’t smart enough to comprehend that it’s none of their business, doesn’t mean you should shut yourself away so they don’t have to see you at all.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” Tim huffed. “Where are we going to go when I can barely walk?”

Jason closed the distance between them, bracing his hands on the edge of Tim’s bed. “You just leave that to me,” he said. “I just need to know whether you’d like to go out with me or not.”

Tim stared at him, eyes flitting around his face. “I-” he cut himself off and pursed his lips. “Okay,” he agreed. “Yes, I’d like to go out with you.”

Jason smiled, his heartrate taking off in his chest, even if Tim reluctantly agreed because of his current situation. He knew Tim wanted to go with him. He wouldn’t have agreed if he didn’t. But they were going on a date. And that was something Jason had been wanting for a while. Ever since Tim woke up.

“Great,” he said, straightening. “I’ll get everything setup. Does Friday night work for you?”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “My schedule isn’t exactly filled with demanding people, Jason.”

Jason shrugged. “Just want to make sure. You could easily have a chunk of time on Friday reserved specifically for you.”

Tim smiled, expression fond. “No Jason, I don’t have any time scheduled for me on Friday and I’m good to go on our date whenever you get it planned.”

Jason nodded. “Good. Now, I have some planning to do and I’m sure you’d like to get back to your schoolwork.”

“Bye Jason,” Tim sang, already reaching for his laptop.

Jason closed the door behind him and took a handful of steps before he sagged against the wall, butterflies swarming inside him as giddiness wrapped his heart in soft velvet.

“Okay, are you ready?” Jason asked, rolling Tim’s chair to the back door of the Manor.

“Yes, Jason,” Tim huffed, fingers itching to pull the blindfold from his eyes to see what Jason was planning.

“Here we go,” Jason breathed, sliding the blindfold off Tim’s eyes.

Tim stared through the open back door of the Manor at the small table under the white canopy that had been erected. A pair of candles rested on the white tablecloth and two place settings were waiting for them, one with a chair and one without.

“You did all of this?” Tim asked, looking up at him.

Jason nodded. “You were nervous about going out in public and I thought the best thing to do would be to have a nice dinner in the backyard. And I don’t think any restaurant could’ve been better than Alfred’s cooking.”

Tim smiled, his eyelids drooping as he got a dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured.

“Even more beautiful up close and with food,” Jason said, rolling the chair down the ramp that lead from the back porch to the lawn below.

He positioned Tim in front of the open side of the table and took a minute to fill their glasses from the pitcher of water resting between their plates.

“I wanted to bring wine, but Alfred wouldn’t let me,” Jason said, taking the seat across from Tim.

Tim smiled. “Was it because of my lack of body mass or because I’m underage by a year?”

“Strangely enough it was because of your lack of body mass. I think he’s worried I’m going to get you super drunk and take advantage of your virtue.”

Tim chuckled and took a sip from his glass. “Anyone who knows you, knows that you’d be the last person to take advantage of anyone’s virtue.”

“I resent that,” Jason scoffed even as he smiled.

“You shouldn’t,” Tim said, leaning back in his chair. “You’re a good guy and anyone would be lucky to know you.”

Jason cleared his throat and fought down the rush of blood to his cheeks.

“So,” Tim said. “What are we having for dinner?”

Jason shrugged. “I let Alfred decide. I didn’t want to put too much pressure on him since I’m sure he’s going to have very strong opinions about what you should be eating.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “At this rate, I’m not going to get anything but soup.”

“Don’t be so sure, Master Timothy,” Alfred said, striding across the lawn with two covered trays. “I wouldn’t restrict your diet on such an important and fun evening.”

He set the trays in front of them and lifted the lids to reveal a small side salad and a plate filled with mashed potatoes, grilled asparagus, a small slice of roasted chicken with a light gravy, and a small, single-serving chocolate cake.

“Enjoy,” Alfred said, bowing slightly before he made his exit with the tray lids.

“Wow,” Tim breathed. He snatched up his fork and dug into the mashed potatoes, shoving a bite into his mouth. His eyes slid shut and he whimpered. “These are delicious.”

Jason ducked his head to hide his smile. “I’m glad you like it.” He ate his own food slower than Tim did. They didn’t talk much but Jason was more than happy to listen to Tim enjoy his own food after being stuck on broth and light meals for so long.

“Jason?” Tim asked.

He glanced up and found Tim staring at his chocolate cake with a wistful smile on his face.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Thank you. For all of this. It really means a lot to me that you did this,” he murmured, raising his gaze to meet Jason’s.

“I’d do anything for you,” Jason admitted, voice soft and quiet between them as the sky turned pink over their heads.

Jason’s voice was soft in the muted light of Tim’s room. They’d pulled the curtains shut to block out the sunlight and turned on the lamp sitting on Tim’s bedside table. He was slowly making his way through the Harry Potter books they’d decided to pick up on impulse and Jason had insisted on reading to him.

Jason loved getting to read to Tim. He loved books and reading in general, but it helped Tim relax and pulled him away from his homework that he was quickly working through. It was a miracle he wasn’t trying to get caught up with W.E too, or he’d be working himself to the bone and would be ten times as exhausted as physical therapy left him on some days.

Tim sighed and Jason glanced down at him, finding his head resting on his shoulder. The words died in his throat and Tim looked up at him, question evident in his gaze that he didn’t want him to stop reading.

Time froze between them. Jason let the book fall against his thighs and glanced down at Tim’s lips, watching as Tim’s tongue darted out to wet them. He dragged his gaze up to meet Tim’s eyes and found something shining in them that he was sure he’d seen before, but Tim had quickly hidden once he’d caught him looking.

Jason ducked his head, unable to resist the pull between them and pressed their lips together.

Tim sighed and pressed against him, his arms wrapping around his shoulders. Jason abandoned his book and wormed his arm behind Tim’s back, pulling him tightly against his side. He tried to be gentle with his thin frame, but couldn’t resist wrapping Tim in a tight hug. Tim was quickly becoming stronger and more well-defined now that he was building up muscle again and Jason found that he was losing reasons to keep Tim at a distance.

Tim pulled back, smile pulling his lips wide as he snuggled against Jason’s side. Jason pressed one last kiss to the top of his head and grabbed his book, balancing it with one hand on his legs as he continued to read, his other arm still wrapped around Tim’s back.

“Alright Master Timothy. When you’re ready,” Alfred said, hands hovering around Tim’s form.

Jason kept his distance, letting Tim balance on his feet next to the hospital bed. He could see the anxiety and worry in Tim’s eyes at walking longer distances without the help of a cane or crutches. But there was hope there, too, even if it was dim. Jason knew Tim was trying to force it back, trying not to get his hopes up and expect too much.

Any form of setback had been hard enough for him when he first started physical therapy. Now, if he wasn’t able to walk on his own when he’d been hoping to do that for so long would only end with Tim shutting himself away in his room for the rest of the day. Jason knew there was nothing he’d be able to do to pull Tim from the depression that would send him into.

Tim sucked in a deep breath before he moved one foot forward. He shifted his weight, testing it to make sure his leg would hold before he completely came off his back leg. His gaze stayed focused on the ground as he walked and with each step he took, he was more certain in his movements even if progress was slow.

Jason spotted the tears forming in the corners of Tim’s eyes before he sniffed. He paused when he was halfway across the floor and Jason gripped his biceps where his arms were crossed, thinking Tim had made it as far as he could.

“Master Timothy?” Alfred asked.

Tim shook his head and took another shaky breath. He raised his gaze and met Jason’s eyes. He took another step forward and Jason spread his arms, waiting for Tim to meet him.

Tim’s smile grew as he continued to close the distance between them. It was a shaky smile and tears slid down his cheeks, but he’d finally shown himself that he was getting back to where he needed to be.

Jason was tempted to sweep Tim up into his arms once he was within reach, but he let Tim come to him and wrap his arms around his shoulders, closing the last inches between them just because he could.

“I’m so proud of you,” Jason murmured into his hair as Tim trembled against him.

“Thank you,” Tim breathed. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course. Think you can make it back?”

Tim’s laugh was wet and heavy. “I wish, but I’m not sure my legs can hold up for another trip.”

Jason nodded and looked up at Alfred. “I think he’ll still need crutches to get back.”

Alfred smiled. “Not to worry, Master Jason. That was already excellent progress.”

“I’m getting really tired of these crutches,” Tim grumbled as he wrestled them out of the car.

“I know, but before you know it, you can chuck them across the yard or light them on fire and you never have to use them again,” Jason said, easing Tim out of the car so he could get them under his armpits.

He grabbed their bag and beach towels and braced the large umbrella against his side as he shut the trunk and locked the car. The sun was shining brightly over their heads and even if Tim couldn’t exactly frolic through the sand, Jason was happy to have brought Tim to the beach and gotten him out of the house.

Tim carefully moved from the paved parking lot to the sand, the transition to less firm ground awkward for his untrained muscles and unsteady as the crutches shifted unexpectedly.

Jason didn’t force him to walk too far before he set the bag down and got to work setting up the umbrella to block them from the sun. Tim tossed his crutches to the side and stood in one spot as he rolled out the towels next to each other.

Jason helped him sit down and stretch out his legs before he took the towel next to him. He could see people giving them curious glances, but he fought to ignore them and would keep Tim’s attention away from them as long as he could.

Tim sighed and tilted his head back, inhaling the salty smell of the ocean as a breeze blew in from the water.

“Thank you,” Tim said, turning to look at him.

“For what?” Jason asked, smile tugging at his lips as he pulled out the bottle of sunscreen and poured some into his hand.

“For bringing me here. I hadn’t even realized how much I missed being outside. It’s been so long since I’ve been away from the house.”

Jason paused in rubbing the lotion into his skin. He glanced at Tim who looked peaceful and happy despite the work that he still needed to do to get back to full strength. He finished rubbing the sunscreen over his skin quickly and rolled onto his knees, shifting closer to Tim.

“Tim,” he prodded.

Tim looked at him, grin pulling at his lips. Jason never would’ve expected Tim to look at him with that kind of care in his life, but he was glad he got the chance to see it and was the reason for it being there.

Jason ducked his head and pressed their lips together. Tim tangled his fingers in Jason’s hair and kept him pressed closed, content to stay together under the umbrella.

“You want some ice cream?” Jason asked, pulling back.

Tim chuckled. “Maybe later. I’d like to just sit here and enjoy this. And I should probably put on some sunscreen first,” he said, snatching the bottle from Jason’s towel as Jason stretched out on his back. “I don’t need to add sunburn or skin cancer to my list of medical problems.”

Jason hummed and tucked his hands under his head, content to lie next to Tim and listen to the waves crash and the laughter of the other beachgoers as the breeze blew over them.

Tim giggled as Jason set him down at the edge of the waves. They’d left the crutches back with their things and as much as Tim wanted to walk on his own, Jason didn’t want him to exhaust himself before he could even enjoy the ocean.

Tim gripped his hand and tangled their fingers together. “Jason?”

Jason squeezed his hand. “What is it?”

“Do you think I’ll ever be able to fight again?”

Jason huffed and pressed a kiss to the side of Tim’s head. They’d had this conversation more times than he could count, and he always had the same answer.

“I know you can. You’re strong and you’ll be back in fighting shape before you know it.”

Tim sighed and wiggled his toes in the sand as the waves crashed around his ankles. “I hope you’re right,” he murmured.

“Of course I am. Just trust me, okay?”

Tim looked up at him, eyes gleaming. He nodded and Jason pulled him a little further into the water, letting him experience the world through all of his senses once again.

Tim gasped for breath as he fought to finish another pushup.

“Last one, Tim,” Jason said, kneeling at his side.

Tim managed to straighten his arms before his knees hit the mat and he fought to catch his breath, sweat dripping from his nose and chin.

“Good, good. You’re getting stronger.”

Tim flashed him a tired smile before he sat back on his heels and grimaced, wiping the sweat from his face.

“That’s it for the strength training today. Come on, let’s stretch out your muscles and then we can do some laps around the track.”

Tim nodded and pushed himself to shaky feet as he started to stretch out his tired muscles. Feeling like a limp noodle was never the best feeling in the world but he knew he was getting stronger and that made it worth it.

And watching Tim go through training to get back to where he wanted to be was astounding and he wished everyone knew how dedicated and strong Tim was.

Tim was everything Jason wasn’t and Jason felt like the luckiest guy in the world since he got to spend his life with him and watch him grow and love him for all he was worth.

Jason ducked under the reach of Tim’s arm as he threw another punch at him. He tapped Tim’s ribs twice before putting space between them. Tim’s movements weren’t any less precise than they’d been when he was at his full strength, but he still tired more easily.

“Come on, Tim. Is that the best you’ve got?” Jason taunted, bouncing from foot to foot.

Tim grit his lips and rushed towards him, intent on getting the next hit in. Jason evaded, keeping distance between them as Tim chased him around the mat. They’d been building up to this for months now.

Tim had been eager to get back on the mats and spar and Jason had wanted to make sure he wasn’t at risk of injury before they started fighting. He knew Tim wouldn’t hold back even if Jason pulled his punches and he didn’t need to injure himself and go through even more physical therapy. Jason wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle that. Not now. Not when he was so close.

Tim swung out his leg to kick him in the side and Jason caught it before the blow could hit his side. He used the hold to flip Tim onto his stomach.

“Oof,” Tim said as all the air rushed from his lungs. He stayed there, taking in deep breaths as Jason released his leg.

“How are you feeling?” Jason asked, dropping down next to him.

Tim rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, a faraway look in his eyes.

Jason sighed when he saw the moisture gathering in the corners. “Tim…”

Tim shook his head and smiled, pushing himself into a sitting position. “It’s nothing, I swear. Just…thank you for this. Thank you for helping me and being there and doing everything when you didn’t owe me anything. I never thought I’d get back to this point again. Not after the year I spent in a coma. It means a lot to me. Everything you’ve done and continue to do. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to make it up to you.”

Jason wrapped his fingers around the back of Tim’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. “I want you to have everything you want and need. And you don’t need to make it up to me. I did all of this because I wanted to. I did all of this because I love you, Tim.”

Tears slid down Tim’s cheeks and he ducked his head, fighting to keep his breathing steady. “I love you, too, Jason,” he whispered.

Jason smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of Tim’s head. “Why don’t you come patrolling with me next week? We’ll stay away from the heavy hitters, but I think you could handle some muggings or break-ins.”

Tim’s head snapped up and he looked at him with wide eyes. Jason wheezed when Tim’s arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him into a crushing hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he murmured into his neck.

Jason chuckled and wrapped his arms around Tim’s waist, pulling him flush against his body. “Anything for you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to Tim’s temple.

Tim landed on the rooftop, breathing heavy and limbs shaking with energy and adrenaline. The robber they’d caught was tied up in the alley below and Jason had already sent the call to the GCPD.

“You okay?” Jason asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. His suit was lose on his thin frame, but Jason knew it wouldn’t be long before Tim made up his lost muscle mass and was back where he used to be.

Tim stared out over Gotham and took a deep breath of the polluted and tainted air, once again realizing just how much he’d been missing during the year he’d been stuck in his own head. The fake Gotham he’d lived in hadn’t had the same familiarity. It hadn’t been home. And he hadn’t had one of the most important things in his life. He hadn’t had Jason.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for everything, Jason.”

Jason squeezed Tim’s shoulder, knowing just how much emotion he was holding back. He might not be able to keep it hidden the rest of the night and knew Tim would probably need someone to hold him once they got back from patrol and the full force of what he’d done hit him.

But for now, they had more minor criminals they could stop, and Jason was going to help keep Tim going for as long as he could. He smiled and pulled Tim across the rooftop to the edge. They looked at the street below and listened to the police sirens in the distance as they hurtled towards their location for the gift-wrapped criminals.

Jason took a deep breath and wrapped an arm around Tim’s waist. He shot his grapple and they jumped, continuing their run across Gotham’s rooftops.

If you enjoy my work, please reblog or consider buying me a ko-fi!

#jaytim #molim writes #fic: free me from this prison #coma fic #friends to lovers

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audreycritter · 7 years

Text

Rehearsal

This fic was written for @byebyeskylark . It’s Alfred and Bruce Gen/Family history and relationship. It’s on AO3 here. Rehearsal

act: present

scene: wayne manor

players: alfred pennyworth, age irrelevant

It might appear to be a sort of magic, the way Alfred Pennyworth positions himself at the east wing ballroom door that leads back into the manor, just as Bruce Wayne flashes a kind, white smile. It is not magic– it is attentiveness. Alfred knew from the way Bruce clasped the gentleman’s hand, said something low and quiet that made the two women giggle and glance at each other, that the evening at the cocktail party was drawing to a close for Bruce.

And as Bruce makes his way across the room, calling out casual farewells and promises of golf games when the weather turns and handing out rueful, half-amused excuses for himself, Alfred feels within himself a minor melody of both pride and sorrow.

He did this to him.

He made him this way.

Perhaps circumstances dictated his actions or perhaps Bruce would have found other methods, but for what it is worth, Alfred played his part readily enough at the beginning.

At the beginning, all he wanted was to help.

He opens the door for Bruce as he approaches, nods once, and follows him into the dim and private hallway. The door locks behind them; it will not allow any to follow without a key or alerting the security system.

And he watches from just a few steps behind and to the left. He does not need to see Bruce’s face to know the change there, the subtle hardening. He has seen it many times. The posture and the gait change, into something more intentional and rigid. And it will change again in mere minutes, when he puts the suit on downstairs.

They are almost to the grandfather clock, still walking without speaking, when a young Dick Grayson slides down the bannister with a loud whoop.

“I thought you’d never get outta there! I’ve been waiting for hours!”

“It was forty-five minutes,” Bruce counters with slight amusement, his voice already changed. It is not Batman’s voice, but it is not Bruce Wayne’s social voice, either. It sounds more measured, more determined, though it is the most natural of the three– it is the Batman and the Socialite Bruce that are actually practiced, calculated forms.

Alfred is aware of this because Alfred taught him how to do it, and he rues and treasures those years by turns. They are full of such bitterness and loss and have led to so much more, but they were also moments of hope for a continued life.

Bruce and Dick go ahead of him into the cave and Alfred is left standing in the parlor, remembering all those years ago with a broken little boy and grief and desperation and the relief of finally, finally having something tangible to do.

act one, scene one: the beginning

setting: wayne manor, one month after wayne murders

players: -bruce wayne, age 9

-alfred pennyworth, age 31

“I can’t do it,” Bruce said, shaking his head and gulping air, frozen in the parlor. “I won’t go.”

“But you must,” Alfred insisted gently. “The memorial service is important for you to attend.”

He wished it wasn’t. He wished so much public and company opinion wasn’t resting on the shoulders of his young charge.

“I’m not going,” Bruce said again, fists clenched into pale-knuckled balls at his sides. “They’ll all be watching me.”

“That they will, Master Bruce. Ought we to give them a show?”

Bruce looked up at Alfred at this, his expression stern and curious and hurt all at once– it was too old for his small face, for the features still edged in childhood.

“What do you mean?”

“If you don’t want them to look at you,” Alfred said, leaning over to match eye-level with the boy, “then you give them something else to look at. What do you think they want to see?”

“They want to see me cry,” Bruce said scornfully. “They want to see…” he paused, and blinked back tears. “It’s mine, not theirs. But they want to see it. And if I don’t, I know what they’ll say about me. About my parents.”

One of the many, many mistakes Alfred had made in the past few weeks was not cancelling Thomas Wayne’s newspaper subscriptions. Bruce had already begun sitting with the stack of them at the breakfast table, holding them open in his too-short arm span and reading them over in conscious imitation of his father.

The newspapers were not kind.

“Grieving but sullen Wayne boy,” “traumatized and stony-faced,” “distant manner often found in the wealthy when surrounded by family staff instead of family,” they’d written, never imagining or not caring that the same nine-year-old might actually read the words about himself.

“Then you will cry,” Alfred said, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “We will act the part and give them what they want. Consider the public your stage.”

“How?” Bruce asked, sniffling once. “I don’t want to cry in front of everyone. I don’t even want to think about…about…it,” he settled on, instead of ‘my parents’ or ‘the shooting.’ The unspoken words were heavy absences, siphoning air from the room.

“Then you will pretend to be someone who wants to cry,” Alfred said firmly and kindly. “We will rehearse, right this moment.”

“Alright,” Bruce said, considering the idea. “Who will you be?”

“A reporter, of course,” Alfred said, disregarding both the prick of hesitation and the pang of distaste at what he’d need to do to properly prepare the boy.

Alfred changed his posture, he dropped one shoulder a bit, he pretended there was a memo pad in his hands with a pen poised to write. When he spoke, it was with an American accent tinged with Gotham harshness and all the vocal and stage training of another life before the Waynes.

“Mr. Bruce, can I call you Mr. Bruce? Your parents were loved by Gotham; do you think the city has done them justice today with this memorial?”

Alfred pretended to be looking at a notebook that wasn’t there, but he glanced up at Bruce– the boy’s eyes widened in shock and his lips curled in delighted surprise for just a second, until the words themselves hit him and he flinched.

“Don’t flinch,” Alfred advised quietly in his normal voice, “and don’t be stiff. Brace yourself by keeping your muscles relaxed on purpose; give it your time and effort until you can do it without thought. A moment’s pause shows fear if you maintain eye contact, but thoughtfulness if you look up a bit to the left.”

Bruce nodded.

“Again,” he said. “Start again.”

Alfred did.

They worked until Bruce could give the answers to half a dozen prying questions, could cry but not sob at the right break in his replies, and could force a shaky smile and give a handshake.

Bruce was a natural. It took all of fifteen minutes.

act one, scene twelve: the close of the first year

setting: christmas, guest house, kane estate, california

players: -bruce wayne, age 9

-alfred pennyworth, age 31

“I don’t want to be nice to him,” Bruce snapped. “I heard them talking. They’re going to try to keep me here after the holiday.”

“Acting petulant won’t do you any good,” Alfred said sternly, hiding his own inner conflict with a steady voice and hands that did not falter in their ironing.

“He can’t just keep me here like that. This isn’t home.”

Alfred wanted the Kanes to take Bruce in.

He did not want the responsibility of raising a grieving boy.

Alfred did not want the Kanes to take Bruce.

He did not trust Jacob Kane.

“You must show them, then, that you are mature, and well-reasoned,” Alfred said.

“Practice with me,” Bruce begged, tugging on Alfred’s arm while Alfred straightened the collar of the boy’s shirt for dinner later and set the crease with the iron.

Alfred turned the iron off and turned to Bruce with a straight spine, a firm set of his jaw.

“We thought you could stay with us, Bruce,” he said, with a tinge of the coastal nasal in his voice, full of military precision and command. “Kate would love to have you around.”

Bruce took a deep breath.

“I’m terribly sorry, Uncle Jacob, but I’d really rather stay with Alf–”

Alfred raised an eyebrow, just slightly. Bruce stopped and started over.

“I’m terribly sorry, Uncle Jacob, but it was important to my father that I attend Gotham Academy. And Mr. Fox is already helping me learn the ropes at the company for when I’m old enough.”

Alfred gave a single nod.

“Go practice that, without rushing your words. Emphasize ‘uncle’ and ‘father,’ but not too much.”

He returned to the ironing.

Bruce went home with him the next day.

act four, scene nine: summer fete

setting: wayne foundation picnic, publicity event

players: -bruce wayne, age 13

-alfred pennyworth, age 35

“It’ll be hot,” Bruce complained, buttoning his polo. “And if I so much as frown, they’ll say in the papers that I was glum, or sullen, or bored.”

“You are glum and sullen and bored,” Alfred noted mildly, shaking a bottle of sunscreen and squeezing some into Bruce’s outstretched hand. The boy rubbed it over his face and sighed.

“Lucius says it’s bad PR.”

“Then you smile,” Alfred said. “You do remember how to smile, Master Bruce?”

That got a smile out of the young teen.

“I’m rather relieved. What with the raging hormones, I’d rather thought you’d forgotten.”

“Alfred,” Bruce whined, a faint flush in his cheeks even under the white sunscreen.

“We are not embarrassed by science and fact, Master Bruce. Being rattled by the laws of nature shows lack of thought.”

“Just wait until my voice changes,” Bruce grumbled, rubbing sunscreen on his ears. “I’ll wait in the halls when you’re asleep and make you think someone’s broken in.”

“Ah, now that shows foresight and clever planning,” Alfred said, capping the sunscreen. “Just be certain I am not armed. I am rather handy with an epee. Now, your smile. Let me see it.”

Bruce plastered on a smile so exaggerated and forced that Alfred knew the boy was mocking him.

“Keep it up,” Alfred said sternly when the boy’s face began to relax. “You’ve committed to this one now. Maintain it.”

“Al,” Bruce said in a pained tone, through his teeth, after a moment. It was looking more like a grimace with each passing second. “Can I start over?”

“If you think you ought,” Alfred conceded, his own mirth tucked away behind an impassive face.

“Hi,” the boy said, flashing a smile that was both more realistic and entirely unlike him, “I’m Bruce Wayne.”

“Better,” Alfred said. “Now, go drink some warm water to keep those underused facial muscles from seizing up and there’s your summer project.”

“It’s just a picnic,” Bruce protested. “I hate warm water.”

“Learn to like it,” Alfred countered mercilessly. “And there will be many picnic and parties in your future. A good craftsman takes care of his tools.”

“You’re the tool around here,” Bruce muttered under his breath, turning for the kitchen.

“Listen to that,” Alfred said calmly after him. “It’s the sound of a boy doing the dishes for the next two days. That will be a wonderful time to practice smiling.”

Bruce did the dishes after the picnic.

Bruce smiled warmly at the sink the whole time.

Alfred went out and bought an electric kettle.

act seven, scene four: anti-killer contracts

setting: wayne enterprises, research facility, demo lab

players: -bruce wayne, age 16

-alfred pennyworth, age 38

“We can go, Master Bruce,” Alfred assured the teen, who sat in the car with shaking hands. His own heart stuttered and he watched Bruce’s hands for just a fraction of a second. “I’m taking you home.”

“No,” Bruce said, sucking in air and pressing his palms on his knees. “No. Lucius said the investors need to see me more involved.”

“The investors are idiots,” Alfred snapped, meeting Bruce’s startled gaze in the rearview mirror. He gathered his own calm and projected it into his next words. “The technology might be valuable but the demonstration is insensitive. I do not think they will fault you for your absence.”

“I don’t want people to think I can be scared away,” Bruce said, looking out the tinted windows toward the building. Inside, there was a small crowd waiting with the scientists who had developed new bullet-resistant armor WE was about to pour several million dollars into acquiring– the demo, of course, involved several models of guns.

“We cannot rehearse this,” Alfred said gently. He cursed himself for ever teaching the boy such things as if they were viable coping mechanisms. This was self-punishment, it was absurd. He was going to have a private word with Lucius Fox later.

“We don’t need to,” Bruce said, putting a hand on the car door. “I’m ready.”

Alfred went into the building with his teenage charge and watched from behind as the boy’s spine straightened, as the hands stopped trembling.

He watched as Bruce greeted the crowd with false but sincere-sounding ease and warmth, admired the armor on display, and dismissed their awkward worry.

“It’s several years in the past,” Bruce said, flashing a smile. “This is now. Wayne Enterprises is very interested in keeping men and women safe even in dangerous lines of work. Let’s see what you can do.”

Every eye in the glassed-in room was on the armor at the end of the range as each gun was fired.

Except Alfred, who watched Bruce.

The youth didn’t flinch.

The youth smiled when speaking, frowned when considering, looked a bit up and to the left when he paused.

Out in the car, he was silent and his face settled into hard lines.

At home that night, he had nightmares full of screaming, jerking Alfred out of his own light sleep down the hall.

“What have I done?” Alfred asked himself, hurrying toward the room full of muffled cries. He flung open the door and Bruce sat up in the dark, gasping in the aftermath while the confusion faded from his brow.

“I had…” he said.

“I know,” Alfred replied, flicking on the lamp. “Are you alright?”

“No,” Bruce said hoarsely, slipping out of bed. “What time is it?”

“Late,” Alfred said. “Come downstairs. I’ll make you some tea.”

Minutes later, Bruce slumped forward over the cup of tea as the steam pooled around his face.

“I don’t know how I’d do it without you,” he said, sounding for all the world like he was thirty years older. “I wouldn’t know what to do.”

Alfred was a tempest: he could do better, he should do better, he had bloody messed this poor lad up. There must have been better ways to cope with the grief, with the haunted darkness that hung over Bruce like a cloak.

“You would manage, I dare say,” Alfred said, sipping his own tea.

“No,” Bruce said, pushing a hand through his stubborn, sleep-mussed hair. “I need you, Alfred. Nobody else understands.”

They were not the kind-of-a-father and not-quite-a-son that said things like “I love you.”

But that was pretty damn close.

“I’m glad to be of service, Master Bruce,” Alfred said with unrestrained feeling.

“I’m going to go run,” Bruce said, pushing the tea back on the table. “You don’t have to wait up.”

Alfred waited anyway, busying himself with cleaning punctuated by yawns and worry, while the thrum of a running treadmill carried through the open office door and down the hall.

When Alfred was in the laundry room later, Bruce found him– the youth’s hair was still plastered to his forehead with shower water and he was in clean pajamas. He held another cup of tea out and Alfred finished folding the last towel and accepted it.

They fell asleep, each sitting up with feet propped on the coffee table, on the couch in the den while watching episodes of an old British novel adaptation.

When Alfred woke, the late morning sun was streaming through the windows and Bruce was slumped against his arm.

He reminded himself that teaching him acting wasn’t the only thing he’d done for the boy.

Their relationship and his influence could not be so easily distilled.

He told himself, anyway, as he rose, carefully easing Bruce down onto the couch and throwing a blanket over him.

Forward was the only direction that wasn’t simply “exit, stage right,” and he couldn’t live with that.

act ten, scene fifteen: the fourth wall

setting: wayne townhouse near princeton

players: -bruce wayne, age 19

-alfred pennyworth, age 41

It had been several hours since Alfred had expected to hear from Bruce. He was a young man, responsible for himself, and it wasn’t unusual for him to spend a night away from the townhouse.

However, it was unusual to not hear from him in some way or another that he had plans.

Still, he was an adult and Alfred was not even in the position to give him freedom– it was just something Bruce had and operated in. It was good and healthy and expected.

But Alfred couldn’t shake the sense that something was wrong, as he sat and read.

When the door opened, it was nearly three in the morning and Bruce was already on the stairs when Alfred made it to the foyer.

“Good evening, Master Bruce,” he said, relieved and tired and ready to go to bed after genuinely losing track of the time. There was no rebuke in his tone because it was hardly the place for it.

But Bruce stiffened on the stairs and Alfred noticed.

“Night, Alfred,” he mumbled, like his mouth was full of marbles.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said, a bit too sharply, perhaps.

Bruce straightened and turned, slowly. There was an angry bruise next to the young man’s swollen lip; the dark slope of a bruise beneath his eye. It was then that Alfred noticed the blood on his cuffs.

Alfred was concerned but not angry.

Then Bruce smiled, the perfect flash of teeth and curve cutting across his battered face and he gave a slight shrug.

“It’s nothing, Al,” he said dismissively.

But it was too late. The smile was like a knife twisted in Alfred’s back, a cold blade between his shoulders and pricking dangerously close to his spine. His knees felt weak at the same time his chest was hot and fully of fury.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred snapped.

But he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

After all, hadn’t he taught him? Hadn’t he shielded the boy from his own true feelings, over and over, in the name of protection?

He felt suddenly exhausted to his bones and there was still work to do. He dropped his gaze to the floor, away from Bruce, and trudged up the stairs past him. It was like walking through a nightmare, so stiff and sluggish was the silence.

There was a first aid kit in the upstairs bathroom and he retrieved it. Bruce was still frozen on the staircase, but climbed to meet him when he saw the white box in Alfred’s hands.

They sat in that weighted quiet while Alfred looked over the bruises and scrapes on Bruce’s face and hands. Neither of them made eye contact.

“There was a girl,” Bruce said haltingly, when Alfred clicked the clasps on the first aid kit shut.

Alfred kept his silence.

“There was a man harassing her, at the restaurant. The manager called the police. They wouldn’t do anything.”

Alfred put the box away.

“It made me sick. She looked terrified. I jumped him, in the parking lot. I wasn’t thinking very clearly. I just didn’t want him to get away with it.”

It was stupid, but Bruce evidently had come to that conclusion on his own, or so Alfred hoped.

“I cannot continue in your service,” Alfred said, stamping on his own heart. He had made too many mistakes, messed up too thoroughly, and he had decided in the time he bandaged Bruce’s hand that while he could live with that failure he could not live a lie.

“What?” Bruce demanded, sounding more scared and childlike than Alfred had heard for many years. “Al, he was–”

“I can work for a man who desires to right wrongs,” Alfred said, looking into Bruce’s eyes for the first time since he stood at the bottom of the stairs. “But I cannot and will not work for a man who puts on an act for me. That has always been for the outside world. If I am now to be part of the world that demands a performance, it would be wiser and kinder to both of us to make the severance complete.”

Bruce held his gaze for a long time, even with one blue eye partially swollen shut.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “You deserve better. Please, stay.”

“Do I have your word?” Alfred asked, watching.

Bruce slouched with his head in his hands. His eyes were closed. There was no look up to the left, no careful pause.

“Yes,” Bruce said, quickly. “Of course. It won’t happen again. I couldn’t get it past you, anyway.”

“No,” Alfred agreed, smiling slightly, “no, you could not. And not that it is quite my place, but I’d rather prefer it if you were more adequately trained before you go attacking bastards in parking lots again.”

“Yeah,” Bruce said, looking up with a genuine and rueful half-grin, something apologetic and boyish in it, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I’ve kind of been thinking.”

“Shall we move to somewhere besides the lavatory for philosophical discussion?” Alfred suggested and Bruce stood.

“It might be more than philosophical,” Bruce warned. “And you might not like it.”

“You leave the evaluation of my taste to me,” Alfred said, “and I will forgive your fumbling attempts at philosophy and practical application.”

“Most people think I’m pretty smart,” Bruce said defensively, walking ahead of Alfred down the stairs.

“Perhaps we can attribute that to your having a good acting teacher,” Alfred replied.

“You could stand to eat some humble pie sometime,” Bruce grumbled as they entered the living room. He sat on the couch and leaned back and closed his eyes, as if he was leaning more toward sleep than discussion.

“If only you could bake,” Alfred said mildly.

Bruce’s eyes flew open and the young man snorted in laughter.

Alfred took the armchair.

“So, what have you been thinking about?” Alfred asked, his heart still torn but feeling less ragged. He was at fault, here, but he could live with patching things up as he went.

Bruce talked for a long time.

Alfred listened, a twisting melody of pride and dread inside his chest.

It was too late to turn back.

And he rather didn’t want to.

act: present

scene: wayne manor

players: alfred pennyworth, age irrelevant

Alfred goes to the Cave after seeing off the last of the guests, with polite and smiling excuses for Bruce’s absence depending on the recipient– sometimes it is business, sometimes it is a woman, sometimes it is Dick Grayson’s homework.

He waits, cleaning the motorcycle, for their return.

When they come back, Alfred takes the discarded Robin uniform when Dick tosses it to him from the shower room while chattering excitedly. The boy heads upstairs declaring his intentions to hunt down party leftovers and Bruce calls after him, “Good work tonight, chum.”

Dick Grayson leaves the cave and Bruce’s shoulders sag, just a little, and he sits in the chair in front of the massive, humming computer.

“Hard night, sir?” Alfred asks, shaking out Dick’s cape.

“Yes,” Bruce says briefly. “I don’t know how you always know, before I even say anything.”

“Perhaps I’m a telepath, sir,” Alfred says with a raise of his eyebrow.

Bruce exhales in a way that is almost like curtailed laughter.

“I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind before. And Dick won’t be going out tomorrow night. I need to take care of something.”

This means whatever it is will be more dangerous than usual and Bruce, like Alfred did before him, has his own limits and reservations.

Alfred cannot fault him for helping Dick in much the same way Alfred helped Bruce: the only way he knows how, with his sharpest and most honed skills.

There are many things Alfred is certain of, many things he cannot pretend or act away, and one is that he will always be convinced he did the best he could while doubting if it was enough.

He is so incredibly proud of Bruce Wayne, of the commitment to redeem his city and defend the weak. And he wonders, too often, if he did more harm than help and Bruce grew into the man he was despite it.

When he realizes he is still standing there with the bright cape draped over his arm, he starts, and finds Bruce turned in the chair and regarding him thoughtfully.

“I think I could be doing better with Dick,” Bruce admits after a moment, a frown creasing his brow. He turns from Alfred to the computer and when his fingers are poised above the keyboard, he adds, “I don’t know if I can do half as well as you did. It’s a lot to live up to. And you made it look easy.”

Alfred’s heart is in his throat and there is this boy in front of him, his back to him, his spine straight and his shoulders curved in that way he sits when he is himself. Except he isn’t a boy, he’s a man, a man with his own son and his own doubts that he hides from all the world.

Except Alfred. Because he gave his word.

Alfred puts a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, a rare thing between them when it is not grief or injury forcing it and Bruce stops typing but does not look up.

“It is never easy,” Alfred says, “and we often wonder if we could do better. I do, even now. We don’t get to rehearse. But we do our best.”

“What’s that Asimov quotation? ‘To succeed, planning alone is insufficient. One must improvise as well.’ You’re a hell of an improvisational actor, Alfred,” Bruce says, sitting back in the chair.

“The trick,” Alfred says, turning away and folding the cape into a neat square, “is that at some point, it ceases to be acting.”

“Al,” Bruce says, when Alfred is halfway across the room and placing the cape in a drawer, “I don’t say this often enough, but I’m glad you’ve stuck around.”

“So am I,” Alfred says, with a quiet and private and real smile down at the cape and then shared with Bruce across the space between them. “It is an honor, Master Bruce. And I hope you know that I see it that way.”

Bruce’s smile is tired, weariness itself, but it is real.

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