Chapter Text
Things went downhill from there on out. Not as a result of the tragedy at the charity, but a general shift in atmosphere as the weeks went by at the manor. Typically, Tim wasn’t one to point blame, there was always multiple factors to consider, but this time it was clear. The silence of the hallways was all due to one person: Dick.
Over the days the eldest had become withdrawn. It wasn’t immediately, but a gradual change where in less and less of his brother made an appearance, even during patrols. The times he did appear was dwindling and forgetful, appearing in the background like a ghost or a second thought. When he was around, he was never quite present- mind always elsewhere dealing with something seemingly more important. It was like a fog had materialized within his mind, disorienting the reliable older brother with moments of daze. His eyes flickered more erratically around the room, head always angled out of sight, body fidgety when not deathly rigid.
It was inevitable that everything would accumulate into this one moment. Like clockwork, Tim had stumbled into a conversation he should have not yet again. However, this time it was between Batman’s two oldest partners: Dick and Barbara. They were by the Batcave’s monitoring system, the dark atmosphere of both the night and the cave creating a gloomy tension in the air.
They were talking in hushed breathe- well more specifically, Barbara was talking quickly and sharply. Tim couldn't register much information from the conversation as the words flew by, overlapping each other as the next bit of information came out but he could grab a few.
Those few words were enough for Tim.
"Seriously!" Tim snapped, jerking an accusatory finger at the blue and black vigilante. He circled around Barbara, cornering the eldest against the Batcave’s main monitoring system. "After everything with Zsasz, you have the audacity to lie again like nothing happened!"
Dick splayed out his hands, the kick-puppy expression materializing as did whenever he was guilty. "Look I know your mad-"
"- Mad?" Tim scoffed bitterly. "I'm not mad. I'm livid. You're doing the same shit you promised you wouldn't do anymore."
"Let me explain." Dick tried, letting out a short laugh that only boiled the blood in Tim’s veins further with its teasing semantics. The laugh prodded at Tim’s patience mockingly, a sign of distrust and deceit so pestering that a surge of frustration slipped through Tim’s constraint. He threw a punch at his brother, missing narrowly as Dick ducked, running his side into the monitor desk. He winced, raising his hands again in peace. A firm grasp wrapped around Tim’s free hand, and Tim was tugged backwards by Barbara. She shot him a warning look; one even when furious he knew not to poke. Instead of testing another’s patience, he ripped his hand from her grip, looking away.
"And give me another excuse? No thanks, I'm not a child." He shot.
“I didn’t call you a-” Dick squeezed his eyes shut, face scrunching for a moment of what looked like an internal battle of thought. He pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, giving a short shake to reorient himself. The gesture was so foreign to Tim as an aspect of Dick’s physical vernacular. He had never seen this display, and it wasn’t particularly comforting given the circumstances. “It- it’s the shadows, Tim. I can't take it because of them." Dick reasoned insistently. He held so much assurance for a statement so ridiculous. If only he could hear himself, Tim was positive he wouldn’t be saying this stuff.
Tim hated the feelings running through him, "Dick, what are you talking about?"
"The shadows ." Dick repeated, stressing with a sharp rise the reference of dark shapes. "I've seen them when I was on my medication but barely. None of you did- nobody saw it but me. The victims they- they were...." He pauses as if not wanting to admit or trying to avoid what it all meant for himself. "...not well. They saw the shadows- the shadows went after them. So, I can’t take the pills cause I need to see them. I know- I know I've lied, but you gotta believe me this time."
The last statement felt like a joke at this point, like muttering the words itself was a violation of trust. To top it off, what Dick was saying was generally just absurd and unrealistic. Shadows only seen when he wasn’t on medication? Medication designed specifically to diminish sightings like these. Surely Dick understood the inherent irony of that.
Before Tim can voice the criticism of his brother’s flawed reasoning, Barbara spoke up.
"What do the shadows look like Dick?" She asked. Tim almost wanted to snap at her for continuing to entertain Dick’s imaginative antics, but he knew making enemies with everyone would lead to nothing productive being done. The answer was simple, and it didn’t involve a description of these so-called creatures, it was plainly his brother teetering on the edge of reality. Barbara didn't actually believe Dick, did she? She was one of the smartest heroes in the business, so why waste time on an explanation so straightforward. Dick needed to take the medication. The things he was seeing was the product of hallucinations, and the belief that the pills stopped him from seeing them were delusions he'd failed to distinguish as just that.
Dick, almost caught off guard by his oldest friend’s understanding froze for a moment in surprise. "Uh large. Blurry. Like big beasts with rat tails. It killed them, Babs, I wasn't sure of it before but I am now."
"Killed who?" She asked, pressing further.
"Colis Donnell, Jotyi Gumsar, Liam Yeoh."
Taking a moment to recall, the first name came as the quickest to return to Tim. "Colis Donnell? You mean the guy that died from a heart attack in the alley?”
"No no, he didn’t die from a heart attack. He was killed by the shadows. Same goes for the rest, none of them died of natural causes, it just looked like that.”
“And you expect us to believe you?” Tim remarked incredulously, emphasizing the underlying history leading up to now. “After everything.”
He crossed his arms, keeping a steady critical gaze on his brother. Tim refused to let his brother get away with secrecy without consequence again. If Barbara wouldn’t deliver reprimand, then Tim would ensure Dick didn’t get away scott-free. He wanted Dick to know that eyes would be on him from now on, critical and aware of his every move.
Dick didn’t move to answer, as if he couldn’t provide a valid response. The cave fell silent, with his brother standing rigidly between the two other vigilantes.
Understanding the silence, Barbara wheeled forward to face the eldest Wayne sibling.
She was quiet but firm, “You know I need some proof Dick to really believe this, and I know you would never act without it.”
Dick nodded mutely, the first portion of his speech faint and unsure, “I was talking to Zatanna and she said creatures that exist on separate planes from our own can affect our material plane. She's looked into it for me, going to some of the spots like the alley and did detected traces of magic reminisce. Colis was also on blood thinners when he experienced the heart attack, same goes for Liam. I know it doesn't rule out coincidence but there has to be some precedence here. Autopsies showed that despite some of their problems, they were healthy and the deaths were extremely unusual.”
Barbara thought for a second carefully, pursuing her lips, “Okay.”
That was the final draw to this whole showdown.
“ Okay ?” Tim sputtered in disbelief. This entire thing was absurd and ridiculous. Was he the only one taking into consideration that Dick had been lying for weeks about what he was doing? Who cared if Zatanna had found traces of magic- they were traces and there was a greater matter at hand involving the psyche of the one who was head of the investigation. “Barbara you can’t-”
“- Tim .” Barbara’s voice overwhelmed his own as she shot a warning at him, causing him to shut his mouth with a click abruptly. Taking a breather, the red-headed vigilante fixed her glasses and looked to Dick with a restrained demeanor. “Dick, since Steph was there during Colis’ death can you go grab her from upstairs, please. She's in the courtyard.” Barbara told. “I need to talk to Tim.”
The raven-haired eldest nodded wordlessly, retreating towards the staircase without even so much of a glance at either of the two. Barbara and Tim waited in a growing dread of anticipation as Dick ascended the stairs, disappearing from view.
When they were positive he was gone, Barbara wheeled to the monitor, turning to face Tim with a look of fury.
“What are you doing?” She started.
“What am I doing?” He sputtered indignantly. “You’re asking the wrong person that.”
“I’m really not.” She stated matter-of-factly. “Look, I’m just as upset as you are about the secrecy, trust me, but you have to step back and think.”
“I do.”
“And you personalize it.” Barbara replied.
Tim motioned towards the stairs, “He went off his meds, Barbara. He’s not thinking straight.”
“When did you suddenly become picky with who to hear out?”
They questioned all types of people on the job: the reputable, unreputable, young, old, rich, smart, homeless, oblivious. To get the truth, everyone must be asked is what Batman always told him. There were never simply two truths to something, and arguably not even a third truth. It was a matter of taking all the information gathered and forming aspects into something whole.
“When they continue to lie again and again.”
“Do you think in all the years Dick and I have done this job, he has ever done something he thought would do more harm than good? This case is chewing at him, Tim. To where this is the extent of his actions.”
Admittedly, Tim knew the answer was no. His brother never would even entertain the fact of doing harm if it could be avoided. It was why he was so beloved and respected in the superhero community and world. However, given the circumstance Tim didn’t think that truth applied currently.
“You’re bias.” He objected, avoiding the admittance.
“Of course I am, but at least I’m not ignoring the main issue at hand: people are getting hurt and Dick thinks he can stop it.”
Tim scoffed, “There’s a difference between dying naturally and getting killed. I’m sure Dick is aware of that distinction.” The flash of an image crosses over him, the memory of his parents and their own demise fronting his thoughts like a parasite. It was a morbid thought, but Tim would trade their forms of death any day for a chance for them to die naturally. However, he knew he couldn’t, and he would never entertain that mindset for his own mental reassurance.
Barbara was intuitive and no doubt could see right through him like glass as she spoke, “Just as much as you are aware or any of us for that matter. So that is why I put faith in him when he brings things like this case to light.”
"How will we know what's real and what's just in his head then?” Tim tested.
"We don't. We trust him to tell us."
Tim barked out a laugh seeping with sarcasm and acidity. “Easier said than done.”
“This job has never been easy, Drake.”
It was a sobering reminder when coming from her. Nobody in the family or community pitied her – she was more capable than most heroes to hold her own given her state – but it still didn’t stop the fact that life could change in an insistent without a single thing to be done about it. Barbara was a harrowing reminder of that. It was scary – for everybody.
“We good?” The red-haired vigilante tested with a small warm smile – a smile much like her dad’s. Even though at times like this she was a force of nature unwavering and terrifying when confronting you, she was still so welcoming and understanding.
With a smile appearing softly, Tim nodded. “Of course.”
While the frustration and anger with the case and his brother still lingered in his head and heart, it had been tamed enough to not interfere or explode. Keeping his emotions reined in would stop a larger situation from occurring.
The pair waited for Dick to return with Steph, to their luck not waiting long. By the time the two had emerged from the manor, Barbara had already pulled up files from the victims, laying them out through the many monitors.
“I filled her in what I told you guys,” Dick supplied, voice still mellowed and careful as they approached the computers. Tim had taken a seat beside Barbara, copying the files onto his phone for future use. The blonde vigilante still in her tennis attire pulled up a seat beside Tim, squinting thoughtfully at the screens of information in her slouched position.
“I might need a little more time to figure out what’s going on just so you all know.” Steph said, waving her hand about in a circle. “Correct me if I’m wrong but from what Dick told me, shadow monsters are killing off people in ways that look like natural deaths.”
Tim nodded, unable to stop from adding cynically, “And that these monsters can only be seen by Dick if he’s not on his meds.”
There was no surprise on Steph’s face as he added the extra tidbit of information, meaning Dick had filled her in on that as well. Guess he had to so Steph wouldn’t be surprised later on. "Yeah, so like, how are you feeling right now?" Steph asked Dick.
A blink of confusion from the eldest in response. "The same as when I woke up...?"
"No hallucinations or delusions of people coming to get you?"
"Nope,” Dick popped the ‘p’. “Just Tim boring holes into the back of my head."
Tim looked back at his phone with a smug smirk. From his peripheral, Steph bobbed her head quickly in understanding as though she was a student learning from a professor. “Interesting.” She mumbled. “Where do we start?”
"Colis Donnell. After his death I searched his apartment before it was emptied and took some pictures."
Barbara enlarged a few of the pictures, displaying an apartment floor to ceiling covered in various painted art pieces and supplies. The walls were littered with poorly hung papers filled with monochromatic designs. They were all in the style typical of graffiti artists, displaying a mix match of different ideas.
Ignoring the art, the living conditions were overall messy and dilapidated. Dirty plates and cups filled the sink, the floor was grimy with layers of fallen food splatters and dirt like someone had walked through the house in boots after a storm, and empty spray paint cans were littered throughout the house like a frat boy’s collection of empty alcohol bottles. Tim wondered how people could live like that. He was fortunate enough to live not only in a place large enough for all his needs, but with someone like Alfred who maintained it when he could not. Regardless, the mind worked in strange ways and even something as seemingly simple as cleaning a kitchen may become the hardest thing to do for a person.
Dick began to speak, "There wasn't anything out of the ordinary per say, so I checked his records- loans, insurance, banking info you name it. Turns out he'd gotten a large sum of money from an anonymous benefactor a few weeks before his death. This was on top of a monthly set cheque being deposited into his account. It wasn’t a lot but it was enough to help pay for some expensive."
"Disability claim?" Steph suggested.
The eldest shook his head. "Disability has identification and his mom had died two years ago. These two transfer amounts came from the same person. I think he was paid off by someone who he worked for. Like a bonus for overtime."
The gears in Tim’s brain begin to chur, moving quickly in speed as the information flooded in. "How long did the monthly transfers date back?" He asked.
"Long. At least several years."
"When he was getting treatment in juvenile services.” Tim filled in. “This wasn’t work, this was a family matter."
"His mom was poor but not a widow." Steph thought aloud, sitting up. "Single lower-class mom, rich benefactor looking out for Colis for years. Maybe dad had a guilty soul. We’ve seen it before."
"But who was the dad then?"
Dick signaled for Barbara to pull more files up. "Let’s move on for now. In Joyti’s case she was studying to be a marine biologist. That's not a job which pisses a lot of people off naturally, But her parents... well that's another story."
It was easy to insinuate what Dick was getting at and it made sense. The more blatantly abusive a group was to the public, the more pissed off people there would be actively seeking its downfall, supernatural creatures not excluded. "Oil? You think it's about the oil."
The acrobat shrugged, Tim offhandedly noting his refusal to meet his eyes still. "Oil companies piss off just about everyone."
"Environmentalists, vegans, scientists, the poor, students on unpaid internships, commuters." Steph listed.
“Indigenous communities.” Dick added.
“We get it.” Barbara stopped them, before adding to the list in a mumble under her breath, “PETA.”
“Anyways, it’s likely that Joyti was a way to strike back at her parents. Same goes for Colis and Liam.”
“Remind me who Liam is again.” Steph asked just as Tim opened his mouth to do the same.
Pictures of a middle-aged man appeared before them on the screen. Dressed cut-throat professionally in every picture contrasted with a big honest grin on his face, Tim got the impression that the man was just trying to follow the rules and live life undisturbed. “Liam Yeoh. The most recent victim being about a couple days ago. He was a former army medic before being deemed unfit for service as a result of PTSD and was honorably discharged. Since then, he worked as a contractor for Sars Oil in laying down more piping.”
So, there was two victims of the three related in some way to the oil company. Admittedly that was a little suspicious of a pattern. It still didn’t rule out possibility of coincidence in the case. People died of natural causes every day in the city and it wasn’t impossible for a couple of those deaths to have some vague similarities lumping them together.
"How much have they laid already?"
Fingers clicked against keyboard swiftly as Barbara worked her magic. "About six miles."
"Where?"
“Underground Gotham near the E-line in the subway network.” She explained. “Looks like the construction is being halted for the time being since Liam died on site.”
Stephanie smiled with a jester-like grin. “Perfect time to go snooping around.”
After a brief discussion and upon Tim’s suggestion, they decided to go to the Gumsar’s residence first. It was more likely for the owners of the company to have information the people on site may not know of. Investigating what they knew could also open the door to uncovering Colis’ mysterious relation with the wealth benefactor had there been a connection to the oil company. Tim couldn’t help feel however that this was still a meaningless endeavor to a nonexistent problem. Granted, given the looks Barbara gave him he wasn’t about to voice his skepticism again any time soon.
So like always, they waited for night.
When the moon was settled high in the night sky, they began. Situated just outside Gotham, surrounded by acres of forest and rolling hills that served as protection from onlookers, the mansion – much like their own home – was a sight to behold.
Tim offered his binoculars to Spoiler, letting her take front in the bush they were kneeling in. Tim’s cape caught on a branch as he shifted, rustling their hideout noisily. He twisted his torso, yanking at the ends of his cape as Spoiler let out an airy sigh of happiness.
“Man, I don’t think I’ve broken into a house in years.” She hummed.
Tim couldn’t help make a face at her choice of words. He preferred the word investigating over breaking in. Breaking in implied they were trying to invade or steal from the home. That wasn’t the case. They were simply just observing a home from the inside and leaving undetected: the family would be none the wiser.
“We’re just popping in. They won’t even notice.” Tim reasoned. He looked to Nightwing who was crouched not too far from them in his own thicket, fingers ghosting over his domino mask in what Tim could only perceive as uncertainty. “Can we go in now? I’m getting burrs all over me.” He picked a spiky brown ball off his arm, flicking it away.
“Waiting on Oracle.” Nightwing informed.
The piece in their ears buzzed faintly in unison on command as Barbara’s voice filled their senses. “Security is off, you’re good to go.”
Sneaking through the courtyard and grappling onto the balcony, the trio landed silently like ghosts. As Spoiler worked at the lock, Tim peered through the window, his mask’s night vision activating.
The office was empty and dark, ornate artifacts and paintings from all over the world spanning the decorative room. A large pine desk was arranged in the middle, picture frames filled with images of corporate events and important people littering the bookshelves behind it. It was a far cry from Bruce’s more intimate pictures in his office. Most consisted of various people: Dick, Jason, Commissioner Gordan, Alfred, Kate, everybody; never photos marveling his fame and material wealth, rather his fortune in good company. From the look of it, in high society that seemed like a hard possession to come by.
The lock unlocked with a click as Spoiler finished with her tools, door creaking open in mock welcome. Even from underneath the hood, Tim knew Steph was grinning ear to ear, thrumming with adrenaline. She was always looking to be a valuable member of the team, feeling the need to prove herself over and over again. He just wished she knew that she’d long since proven her capability in the eyes of the family.
Tim gave her a thumbs-up as the purple vigilante moved to the edge of the balcony. With a playful salute, she grappled up onto the roof, dashing towards Joyti’s room balcony. With the adopted brother’s remaining, Nightwing and Tim entered the office, the eldest heading to the computer while the latter moved to the hallway entrance.
Tim peered out into the hallway, scanning for any people that would bring unwanted attention to their nightly escapade. The Wayne manor was quiet, but when feet clamored in, one by one or all at once, the always became lively, kitchen a constant clatter of noise and banter, the living room contently being lived in. These empty halls felt different. Much older, far less exposed to the years of wear and tear that came with families. Undoubtedly people lived here, but to call them a family appeared to be a reach. It seemed they simply existed under the same roof, and only by law were they what society called family. A family that lacked any true emotional connections as read on the untouched walls.
He spared a glance back at Nightwing, once again noting the vigilante’s fingers touching his own domino mask as he scanned the computer.
“Wing, stop touching your mask.” Tim commented in a low voice with a frown. A part of him felt like a doting mother scolding their child to snuff out bad habits that presented themselves. It was a position quite unnatural with in this dyad. Sure, outside of the family he very well presented as the know-all, levelheaded person, but those were with people like Bart, Steph, and Conner. Someone had to carry the brains and patience in that group lest it turn into a mess. However, here he was with his older brother, taking on that title. After years of relying on Dick as the unofficial leader for the kids of the Wayne name, now everything had flipped upside down and Tim found it difficult to fall back into that dynamic.
Nightwing winced, his fingers dropping like a bad of bricks back to his side. “Sorry,” He mumbled, “Just checking that it’s there.”
The frown deepened, “Why wouldn’t it be?”
There was no answer and Tim wasn’t surprised. His brother was tip-toeing around him once again, and to his credit it was valid. Of Barbara, Steph and himself, Tim was having the hardest time forgiving his brother deceit. The others had almost underexaggerated the significance of Dick’s behavior, opting to hear and believe him fully without question. In any other circumstance Tim would do the same, Dick both in and out of uniform was one of the most trustworthy people he knew. But this was different. He couldn’t explain why exactly, he just knew.
“Is Mr Gumsar’s computer there?” Oracle asked, breaking through Tim’s train of thought like a rock to glass.
“Uh, yeah.” Nightwing fumbled for the key, inserting it into the computer hard-drive. “You got it?”
“The files are encrypted so it might take a minute. I’ll let you know when it’s done.”
In the meantime, Tim waited by the door on lookout. It was a quick and easy get in-get out situation. Spoiler would grab any information from Joyti’s room and they would head back to the cave to discuss. The Gumsar’s definitely were involved somehow with these 'mysterious killings’ if Tim could even call it that, it was just a matter of confirming before accusing so they acted on good conscience rather than be planted with doubt. Doubt was a finicky thing. It hit with a force enough to cripple a confident man and destroy a weak one’s. Even vigilantes weren't free from its binding grasp.
With a sparing check, Tim noted the time which had passed since Oracle started the encryption process. Oracle was swift with encryptions, having done them many times a day routinely. It should be done, if not almost completed.
Doubling checking the halls, listening in for any movement or creak within the foundations, Tim waited until he was positive everything was clear before turning back to the office.
However, no amount of contingency and thoroughness could prepare Tim for the unpredictability of others. Tim’s stomach dropped upon reentering the room. Situated hunched over the computer as Tim had left him, Nightwing had a large unnatural grin on his face. Through the dim lighting the computer screen offered, Tim could partially make out a wild look of discourse behind his brother’s mask.
“Nightwing?” He tested, taking a hesitant step into the room.
“Keep pretending. Pretending nothing ever changed.”
Tim felt his brows furrow in muddled concern and confusion. “What are you talking about?” He peered over to see what his partner was looking at. There were years of medical files pulled up on the computer as Oracle’s key encrypted the other target data. On closer inspection, Tim realized with surprise that it was the medical records of Joyti, not just of her coroner report but records dating back a decade. What the hell was his brother thinking? “Wing, that is not information we need right now.”
“There’s no trust.” Nightwing’s stare shifted sideways from the computer to one of the corners of the room. Despite the domino mask concealing the majority of his expression, it almost looked as if he was in a sort of trance. “They’re all going to die. I can’t- they won’t let me be- I...”
A laugh escaped the black and blue hero’s lips like a gunshot. The chilling flood of unease washing over Tim in a dawning realization. His skin became clammy under the Kevlar and leather, the cold creeping through his nerves like frostbite. He had a hard suspicious that this was not going to end well. The culprit of that guess, his brother‘s sudden change in behavior. Tim had to lock this issue down before it went nuclear.
“Dick, not a good time.” Tim hissed under his breath, eyes darting back to the hallway. The older hero seemed to not hear him, continuing the string of laughter in swifter speeds and rising volume like the climax of a broken orchestra.
From the hallway, a light flickered on from a nearby room, commotion and the sounds of floorboards creaking followed close by. Urgency flooded Tim as he weighed his options: grab Nightwing and get the hell outta dodge taking what they could, or stay a few seconds longer to get the files they needed and risk being seen.
Like the angel and demon on his shoulders, the comm buzzed to life. “Little bit longer, Red Robin.” Oracle said over communications. Tim dashed deafly over to the hallway doors, shutting them gently. It wouldn’t stop the sound of laughter coming from the room but it would give them some time.
The footsteps grew louder accompanied now by low murmurers of worry. With each step closer, Tim could feel their chances slipping more and more from his grasp.
“This is the best we’re going to get, sorry Oracle.” Tim grabbed his brother and the key, ignoring the protests from both sides.
Whatever trance Nightwing was in seemed to cave in on itself at the pressure of Tim’s grip. The older man exploded in a fury of jerky motions, tugging his arm from Tim’s grasp, stumbling back with owlish eyes still glued to the corner of the room.
Tim lunged for his brother again, clinging tightly to his brother’s arms as he dragged him towards the balcony, shrugging off uncoordinated blows being dealt against him.
Once on the balcony, Tim wrapped the grapple around him and his brother, aiming up towards the roof. To get back to their original lookout, Tim would need to drag his brother through the courtyard, hoping not to get caught by the now alert Gumsar family. There was no way they could do that now that their covers were blown. The safest option was to go up then.
They shot up onto the roof, landing on their feet to Tim’s relief as the sound of the office doors swinging opened echoed from the balcony entrance. Tim pressed his hand against Nightwing’s face roughly, muffling the chorus of laughter rattling from his brother’s lips as he lowered the struggling body onto the roof tile. Planting a knee on his brother’s thigh, Tim held him down as still as possible, praying to whoever was listening the Gumsar family wouldn’t hear them.
Peering over the edge of the roof, Tim watched as an older man dressed in a housecoat looked over the balcony. Had they gone over the edge and tried to make it to the property lines they would have surely been seen. He could just imagine the shitshow that mistake would cause for the Gotham media sites.
“Heads up, Spoiler is behind you.” Oracle communicated, and Tim twists his head around now aware of his other partner’s presence.
Spoiler approached slowly, making sure not to rustle the shingles and cause any more noise than they’ve already made. Tim can’t make out her expression from under the hood, but he wouldn’t hesitant to think that seeing Nightwing restrained by Tim is one to be startled about.
“Help me get him over to the other side of the roof.” Tim whispered, lifting his knee from his brother and shifting to allow Spoiler room. The younger vigilantes each grabbed a part of Nightwing, Tim still holding firm on his hand against his brother’s mouth.
“What happened?” Spoiler asked as they carefully lifted the incapacitated vigilante up the roof.
“Exactly what I thought would happen.” He muttered.
After a few minutes of treading carefully, the group had managed to make their way back to the property line, slipping back into the escape of the thick undergrowth. Frustration was bitter and fiery hot for Tim as he let go of his brother, doing little to soften the fall as the man collapsed to the ground in a fit of laughter.
“What was that back there, Nightwing?” Tim pressed angrily, “Our goal wasn't to snoop through a dead lady’s past!”
He went to approach the fallen man intent on getting a satisfying answer, only to be stopped by Spoiler’s hand on his chest. The hold was unwavering with no intention to let up and let Tim go. She didn't speak at first. A rare sight for the energetic often impulsive purple vigilante. No, Spoiler was choosing her words carefully - thinking first. "Red Robin, I think we have to let him be." She said slowly, gaze never leaving the fallen hero. "Give him a sec."
They watched like intrusive onlookers as the man struggled against his mind and body. Nightwing dragged himself across the grass, chest heaving with exertion from the fit of laughter holding his lungs hostage. He threw himself up against the trunk of a withered oak, burying his head in hands that shook like straw.
" You're sick, you're sick, you're sick ." He wheezed incessantly, his hands pressing harder against his skull which each jerk of the head.
“When he filled me in on the case, he apologized.” Spoiler spoke up gently through the chanting. That caught Tim’s attention, and he turned to give Spoiler an incredulous look.
“For what? His lying?”
Spoiler shot Tim a look at his distasteful comment but ignored it for the most part, instead choosing to elaborate further on her statement. “No, he said stuff like this would happen no matter how hard he would try. He was apologizing for the trouble he thought he’d cause us.”
Tim spared a quick glance at his brother before his eyes shot to the ground. His body was muddled with feelings- adrenaline from the mission, anger at his brother for going off track, and conflict at the sight of a man battling and losing against his demons. Demons which unwillingly only got progressively larger and louder as time went by without remedy.
The blue and black cladded vigilante began once more to laugh through his two-word monologue, the humorless rhythm resurfacing waves of nasty white powdered memories in Tim.
"Ah ha the tub- the tub is not bloody haha the tub is not bloody. It's not, I cleaned it- focus." Nightwing mumbled to himself, spoken with a desperation only akin to a terrified prisoner.
Spurred by the discomfort of eerie familiarness, Tim turned away to drown out the laugher rather than bear the brunt of the torment cycling through his brain with each pitch in breath. He couldn’t stand the laughter, not with it seeping through the cracks of his mind like poisonous gas, haunting him over and over again. It played tricks on his psyche, poking with tease memories of clowns and chaos. He could feel his palms begin to grow sweaty, his ears pounding- vision tunnelling.
He couldn’t wait for Dick to ride this out – if it even was something to ride out.
"Let's go Dick." Tim ordered, trying his damnedest to channel the authority of Bruce and intimidation of Jason. No matter, even with the knowledge and experience at his disposable, the command came out weak - unsteady.
It did not go unnoticed however with his partner. "Red,” Her tone was easy to visualize as a deep frown, but Tim didn’t care. The quicker they solved this case, the sooner his brother would be back on the medication. Dick would go back to his normal self and all would be fine.
Inhaling deeply through his nose, he tried again. “Get up, Dick. Now.”
On drunken legs, his brother peeled himself up off the grassy floor, staggering with a new weight of exhaustion settled in his bones. His head was hung low, raven strands of hair obscuring the face of the eldest as he shuffled forward in address.