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The oldest of their found brotherhood took the lead on their mission to stop the Scarecrows plan of infecting the city of Gotham with fear once again. Mission success was a guarantee when Nightwing and Red Robin work together--- Tim was always proud of that. They work well together, and them working alone was a rare thing after the arrival of Damian and return of Jason. Dick was everyone's favorite to work with, maybe not Jason’s--- he couldn’t stand the constant chatter. Tim loves these patrols. No expectations from Bruce, no speak of the word “replacement,” and none of that little demon’s nagging. Just him and Dick Grayson, racing across the rooftops of Gotham.
After they had retrieved the canister of fear toxin, Dick suggests that they go back to the cave and turn in. Now, they were sitting at a workbench with gas masks on as Dick attempts to remove the vial of toxin for analyzation.
“These things are useless.” Dick says while ripping off the black and blue gauntlets that test his dexterity.
“Don’t let Alfred hear you say that. Not after the last time you took those off on patrol you scraped your hands raw.” Tim says as his fingers tap away making a report of the nights events.
“That,” Dick points a screwdriver at him, “was not my fault. They took the stupid things from me when they tied me up.”
“You didn’t have to leap across a thirty-five-foot gap.”
“I almost made that leap.” He reminisces, rubbing his palms as though he could still feel the raw wounds that came from barely catching himself on the roofs ledge. If Alfred was there he would have slapped the smile off Dick’s face.
“You can only leap thirty-two feet, and that’s when you haven’t been tortured for hours before. Count yourself lucky that we got there when we did, or you would have had a lot more to be nostalgic about than scrapped hands.”
“You don’t need to worry about me, Timmy.” Dick nudges Tim’s shoulder with an honest smile on his face.
Dick’s recklessness was a problem, for sure, but after over a decade of crime fighting there was no changing him. If half a dozen bullets to the gut, thirteen poisonings, and an uncountable number of lectures from both Bruce and Alfred couldn’t stop Dick Grayson, nothing ever would.
A bright light came from the tunnel leading out of the Cave as the Batmobile pulls in--- Red Hood’s motorcycle following close behind. As the doors for the Batmobile rise, Damian Wayne’s voice fills the cavern.
“Richard, tell Todd that he is being ridiculous.” Damian orders.
“What did you do, Jaybird?”
Jason pulls off his hood and domino, all while laughing at the red-faced child. “Don’t worry about it, Goldie. The Brat’s just upset because I told him that he was too short to be Batman.” Jason notices the gas masks that Dick and Tim are wearing. “That canister from Scarecrow? Should we be wearing masks?”
Dick shakes his head. “Shouldn’t matter if you’re far enough away. These things were made for wide scale exposure, just enough to ruin the Judges night off. Besides, I’ve almost got it.”
Bruce regards Dick’s attempts at removing the vial of toxin from a safe distance. “You should be wearing your gauntlets.”
“I tested for fear toxin residue on the surface of the canister and nothing came up. I need the precision that gauntlets won’t allow.”
“They’re for protection, Dick.”
“No offense, B,” Dick says, “but can you wait to give me your TED Talk later. I’m in the middle of something, this thing does not want to come loose.”
Bruce makes the noise that Tim has learned to interpret as the irritation and amusement he feels from Dick’s teasing.
Tim goes back to writing his report and lets Damian’s yells, Jason’s teasing, and the attempts at mediation from Bruce and Dick fade into the background. Just as Tim finishes the last sentence, a loud bang comes from his side.
“Shit,” Dick swears, holding his hand to his chest.
From nowhere, Bruce was now at Dick’s side. He grabs Dick’s right hand where a small drop of blood drips down his pointer finger.
“What happened?” Bruce asks.
“A needle popped out of the casing when I tried to pull the lid off.”
Tim looks at the canister and sees a small needle covered in Dick’s blood. He makes eye contact with Bruce, there was only one thing that could have been inside that needle.
To confirm their theory that Dick had been poisoned with fear toxin, his breathing started to pick up in pace. He rips his hand from Bruce’s grasp and pushes the gas mask off his head, flinching when it crashes against the ground.
“Dick,” Bruce’s voice sounds low and soft. “You’ve been under fear toxin before, try and relax.”
He reaches out to touch Dick’s shoulder only to get have Dick swat his hand away, blown pupils seeing invisible nightmares.
By now, Damian and Jason were aware that there was a situation. They jog over, only stopping when Bruce holds out a hand. The last moments of Dick’s sanity were dripping away as the fear toxin wrings out his brain--- keeping him calm was imperative.
“Get away from me,” Dick’s voice in a dead whisper.
“No one is going to touch you. You’re safe, Dick.” Bruce makes a small motion with his hand--- nothing that Dick’s drugged mind can understand.
Tim knows what Bruce wants, so do his brothers. Slow as possible, the Robins move to circle Dick. They don’t know how this strain of fear toxin works; he could become violent.
“Dickie, look at me.” Bruce uses a nickname that Tim has never heard him use for his brother before, but it seems effective in bringing Dick’s attention back to Bruce.
Tim looks over to his brothers. Jason was pulling a zip-tie out of his pocket, ready to restrain his brother when Bruce gave him a signal.
“Don’t hurt me, please.” Dick pleads. Then he covers his ears and sobs, shaking his head back and forth like he can force whatever he sees to leave.
Bruce holds up his hands, and motions for them to close in. “No one here wants to hurt you, Dick. We’re going to help you. If you can still understand me, try and relax and remember this isn’t real--- just like you have a hundred times before. Dick?”
Dick isn’t paying attention to Bruce anymore. He doesn’t seem to have his attention on any one point, rather, looking all around himself while pulling at his hair. Tim knows that they have seconds before he bolts.
Jason must realize their limited time frame as well, for his haste makes him grab Dick before Bruce can give him a signal. He’s met with a punch that breaks his nose before he can attempt to put the restraint on Dick.
“Shit,” Jason swears, holding his bleeding nose.
Bruce tries to grab Dick, but his son has always been faster than Bruce--- than any of them, really. “Don’t let him out of your sight,” Bruce orders.
They try to keep up with Dick, but no one knows the Cave better than Dick Grayson. He grew up within the stone walls, knew them as though they were his oldest friend. Disappearing only took him a few minutes.
“Of all the irresponsible things you have done this is by far the worst, Todd. You should have waited for Father’s signal.” Damian has taken to yelling at Jason while Bruce starts the thermal mapping system the Cave has, and Tim begins synthesizing an antidote.
“Shut it, Brat.” Jason’s glare less effective due to the ice pack he held on his reset nose. “Dickie, was about to run anyway.”
“You should have waited.”
“I didn’t have to help at all.”
“Both of you, quiet.” Bruce says as he walks away from the computer. “The thermal cameras are down.”
“Do you think Dick could have done that?” Tim asks, taking Bruce’s abandoned spot. There were firewalls around any operation the computer had for finding Dick, but he also notices that the Cave had been put on lock down. Only Bruce’s personal code was going to open the cave to the outside world.
“There’s no other explanation for the handicaps put on the system. I think we must assume that he has some level of rational thought. Do you think you can break those firewalls, Tim?”
“I could, but it would take an hour at least.” Tim didn’t want to say that Dick probably didn’t have that long. When he ran, Dick seemed to have symptoms of late stage fear toxin exposure. Either he overdosed, or the formula was stronger than ever before, each option left Dick without much time.
“Everyone split up,” Bruce orders. “Approach with extreme caution, Dick is still armed and dangerous, and, if startled, he may attack.”
Tim finds Dick forty minutes later in the hidden alcove that he had shown Tim after his first panic attack as Robin. He feels that same panic rising in him now. Dick Grayson always was the strongest of all the Robins. Tim thinks that’s what makes seeing him sobbing on the floor, pulling at his hair, so terrifying.
“Dick,” Tim nearly whispers. He doesn’t want to startle his brother, but Dick doesn’t seem to notice him. “I’m coming over, okay? I won’t hurt you.”
“I’m sorry,” Dick sobs.
Tim presses the beacon on his belt and kneels next to Dick. He’s never been good at this stuff, comforting was always Dick’s thing. Tim can still remember what Dick had said to him when Dick showed him this place.
“You’re okay, there’s nothing to fear here.”
Tim thinks that maybe, just maybe, Dick heard him. Because Dick falls against his chest as he continues to sob about his parents, a judge that he couldn’t save, and Wally--- a wound that still hadn’t quite healed.
That’s how Bruce and his brothers find them. They restrain Dick, even though all the fight seems to have left him. After the antidote is administered, he even seemed peaceful. He wants to stay with Dick through the night, but Bruce insists that he catch up on the sleep he was always neglectful towards. Tim settles for leaving his older brother a present for when he wakes and goes to bed.
When Dick wakes up the next morning he smiles at his gauntlets, tied with a red ribbon, with a note on that read Wear them next time, idiot.