Broken Wing
It’s too much.
Everything.
Too much and too little.
Everything hurts.
But then…
Nothing hurts.
His arms are sprawled before him and he can’t focus enough to wonder why his vision is red.
But he can’t bring himself to care.
The feelings of anger, loneliness, fear, exhaustion, and everything else…
Fading.
His thoughts are fragmenting.
Falling to pieces.
Before the black comes, he thinks he hears a door.
But it doesn’t matter.
__
Dick had been expecting Tim to be working at his desk or something when he dropped by. He hadn’t seen his little brother in months, and had finally gotten the time to visit. So when he knocked and received no answer, he shrugged it off as Tim being distracted or something and proceeded to unlock the door with his spare key.
He closed the door behind himself and tossed his bag to the side as he took off his shoes. Tim never liked it when people wore dirty shoes around his apartment. After that was done, he called out for his little brother, “Timmy! Guess who!”
Dick pads into the living room and frowns when he receives no answer. “Tim?” He checks out the bathroom and bedroom with no results, his frown growing deeper.
Then he enters the kitchen.
He loses his balance for a moment, shock quickly trying to set in.
Blood.
Dick looks and there’s a carving knife a bit away from… from…
Tim.
He rushes over, shaking fingers looking for a pulse while watering eyes stare at the damage.
A diagonal cut across a much-too-thin wrist, oozing blood slowly.
A weak pulse.
Dick’s chest shudders with the sobbing exhale. He quickly grabs his cell phone, pressing the code for the batcave’s emergency number. While it’s ringing, he grabs a towel from under the sink and wraps Tim’s wrist to stem the bleeding.
“N, report.”
Dick’s breath comes out in a sob, “B, emergency protocol TD13. I’m bringing him over and he needs blood now.”
Bruce’s voice is steady, but there’s a wavering in the emotion behind it, “Affirmative. I expect a full report later.”
“Yeah,” Dick grunts and hangs up, tucking the phone away and picking Tim up as gently as possible.
He doesn’t bother locking the door, knowing the automatic security measures Tim would have put in, and just carefully puts him in the car (he’s so thankful he didn’t use the cycle). He uses his sirens and drives like a madman, making it to the manor in 10 heart-wrenching minutes.
The tires and brakes are probably damaged by the stop he pulls in the cave, but he doesn’t care. Bruce is already by the passenger door when Dick jumps out. Bruce cradles the pale form like one would hold a broken bird, carefully and sadly. They get him to the med bay and Alfred immediately starts hooking the young man up to several machines.
Bruce lends his assistance occasionally, but Dick stays out of the way. He knows the symptoms of shock very well. He just curls up on one of the mats, feeling numb but ill.
The memory of Tim lying in a puddle of his own blood will forever haunt him.
__
“That’s all we can do for now, sirs,” Alfred speaks softly as he dries his hands. His expression is weary - wrinkles more pronounced and dark circles are starting to form under his eyes. “It was… very close-“ Dick sobs, “-but Master Tim should be fine.”
Bruce turns to Dick, whom he had taken care of after Alfred shooed him away from Tim, “What happened.”
It wasn’t a question. “I don’t know.”
Dick sees Bruce’s eyes narrow, “I… Walked in. I got the day off… wanted to visit…” His hands tighten in the blanket, “Got in with my spare key. Tim… There was no answer when I called out. So I looked around. A-And. He was in the kitchen. On the floor. B-blood everywhere, Bruce.” Dick curls up even more, his eyes squeezed shut against oncoming tears. A big, warm hand rest on his shoulder and he takes a deep breath. “There was a knife. He… he cut his own…” the shaking man takes another breath, “And there was a lot of blood. I’m not sure… when he passed out. I just…”
In an uncharacteristic gesture, Bruce sits next to his eldest son and pulls him into an embrace.
This was going to change many things.
This entry was originally posted at http://avanalae.dreamwidth.org/11893.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Everything.
Too much and too little.
Everything hurts.
But then…
Nothing hurts.
His arms are sprawled before him and he can’t focus enough to wonder why his vision is red.
But he can’t bring himself to care.
The feelings of anger, loneliness, fear, exhaustion, and everything else…
Fading.
His thoughts are fragmenting.
Falling to pieces.
Before the black comes, he thinks he hears a door.
But it doesn’t matter.
__
Dick had been expecting Tim to be working at his desk or something when he dropped by. He hadn’t seen his little brother in months, and had finally gotten the time to visit. So when he knocked and received no answer, he shrugged it off as Tim being distracted or something and proceeded to unlock the door with his spare key.
He closed the door behind himself and tossed his bag to the side as he took off his shoes. Tim never liked it when people wore dirty shoes around his apartment. After that was done, he called out for his little brother, “Timmy! Guess who!”
Dick pads into the living room and frowns when he receives no answer. “Tim?” He checks out the bathroom and bedroom with no results, his frown growing deeper.
Then he enters the kitchen.
He loses his balance for a moment, shock quickly trying to set in.
Blood.
Dick looks and there’s a carving knife a bit away from… from…
Tim.
He rushes over, shaking fingers looking for a pulse while watering eyes stare at the damage.
A diagonal cut across a much-too-thin wrist, oozing blood slowly.
A weak pulse.
Dick’s chest shudders with the sobbing exhale. He quickly grabs his cell phone, pressing the code for the batcave’s emergency number. While it’s ringing, he grabs a towel from under the sink and wraps Tim’s wrist to stem the bleeding.
“N, report.”
Dick’s breath comes out in a sob, “B, emergency protocol TD13. I’m bringing him over and he needs blood now.”
Bruce’s voice is steady, but there’s a wavering in the emotion behind it, “Affirmative. I expect a full report later.”
“Yeah,” Dick grunts and hangs up, tucking the phone away and picking Tim up as gently as possible.
He doesn’t bother locking the door, knowing the automatic security measures Tim would have put in, and just carefully puts him in the car (he’s so thankful he didn’t use the cycle). He uses his sirens and drives like a madman, making it to the manor in 10 heart-wrenching minutes.
The tires and brakes are probably damaged by the stop he pulls in the cave, but he doesn’t care. Bruce is already by the passenger door when Dick jumps out. Bruce cradles the pale form like one would hold a broken bird, carefully and sadly. They get him to the med bay and Alfred immediately starts hooking the young man up to several machines.
Bruce lends his assistance occasionally, but Dick stays out of the way. He knows the symptoms of shock very well. He just curls up on one of the mats, feeling numb but ill.
The memory of Tim lying in a puddle of his own blood will forever haunt him.
__
“That’s all we can do for now, sirs,” Alfred speaks softly as he dries his hands. His expression is weary - wrinkles more pronounced and dark circles are starting to form under his eyes. “It was… very close-“ Dick sobs, “-but Master Tim should be fine.”
Bruce turns to Dick, whom he had taken care of after Alfred shooed him away from Tim, “What happened.”
It wasn’t a question. “I don’t know.”
Dick sees Bruce’s eyes narrow, “I… Walked in. I got the day off… wanted to visit…” His hands tighten in the blanket, “Got in with my spare key. Tim… There was no answer when I called out. So I looked around. A-And. He was in the kitchen. On the floor. B-blood everywhere, Bruce.” Dick curls up even more, his eyes squeezed shut against oncoming tears. A big, warm hand rest on his shoulder and he takes a deep breath. “There was a knife. He… he cut his own…” the shaking man takes another breath, “And there was a lot of blood. I’m not sure… when he passed out. I just…”
In an uncharacteristic gesture, Bruce sits next to his eldest son and pulls him into an embrace.
This was going to change many things.
This entry was originally posted at http://avanalae.dreamwidth.org/11893.html. Please comment there using OpenID.