Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was stupid, really. Tim had died many times before. This wasn't even the first time he was bleeding out.

The first couple of times had been scary, especially that time he had drowned when he was seven. It was slow and painful; his panic had made the whole ordeal so much worse. Bleeding out was almost nice in comparison. The bullet wounds hurt, of course, but in just a few moments, he wouldn't feel a thing anymore.

He stared up at Gotham's smoggy night sky. The cold stone of the rooftop made him shiver. He could hear a dog barking in the alley below. Somewhere in the distance, a car alarm went off. Dick was patrolling today. Maybe he would stop the car theft.

It was somehow comforting to imagine that his brother was close. To imagine he could swoop in and take Tim into his arms. Maybe even hug him and tell him it's going to be okay while they wait for him to lose consciousness.

Realistically, he would try and save him. Dick was just like that. Even though Tim wasn't his actual brother, he still pretended to care for Tim's sake. And sometimes, when he felt selfish, Tim liked to indulge in the feeling of safety and warmth that Dicks hugs gave him.

Maybe it was the lightheadedness from Blood loss, or perhaps it was the exhaustion catching up to him from the past couple of weeks, but he felt like crying.

He wasn't scared of death itself, of course not. But he felt so utterly alone. He had died many times, but not once was someone by his side when it happened.

He knew it was selfish and greedy, but just once, he'd like someone to hold him while it happened. Maybe even pet his hair and tell him everything is going to be okay. Or pick him up and carry him to safety, like he had seen Bruce do when Damian had gotten stabbed.

Maybe he could be selfish, just this once and just a little bit. If he called someone and didn't actually tell them what was happening, it would be okay, right?

He was debating opening a private comm line, but the chance of Oracle listening in and making a fuss by telling Bruce would be too high.

He mentally went through his options. He couldn't call Dick or Bruce. They were patrolling today, and he couldn't bring himself to distract them with his selfish need for comfort.

Damian also wasn't an Option. The kid hated his guts and would probably not even answer the phone.

Cass and Steph were on Vacation, and Connor, Cassie, and Bart were off-world. He only had to sit this mission out cause Connor noticed his broken wrist and sprained ankle and had snitched to the Bats. Alfred put his foot down and told him he wouldn't be allowed to participate in any nightly activities until those injuries healed. He had only been cleared to patrol two days ago.

Tim could feel something wet in his throat and coughed it up. Probably blood. Distantly, he wondered if one of the bullets had somehow injured his lungs. That would suck. He hated the burning feeling of not getting enough air.

The red liquid pooling around him oddly reminded him of Jason's helmet. Their relationship was still strained, and he hadn't apologized for what he had done in the Titans Tower. But he also hadn't tried to kill him again after that and recently even joined him on patrol on occasion. Tim considered that progress.

Tim hesitated for only a moment before dialing Jason's number and pressing on call. He might hang up if he thought about it too much, and he was running out of time quickly.

There were only two beeps before a gruff voice barked into the phone.

"What do you want?"

Tim didn't know what to say. He obviously couldn't tell the Crime Lord that he was actively bleeding out on a rooftop near Crime Alley, but he also never called Jason just to talk to him.

"Replacement? You deaf or something?"

"Oh- no. Sorry, this is stupid. I shouldn't have- I just needed someone to-" Tim rushed to explain. "I'm sorry. I'll just hang up."

"What's going on? You sound like shit."

Time hesitated. "... could you just talk to me for a bit? About anything?"

There was silence on the other end of the phone, and Tim almost believed that the Vigilante had hung up on him.

"Where are you right now?" Jason's voice sounded strangely worried. Tim assumed it was the blood loss that was making him hear things.

"I'm okay! You don't have to come! It's just-" Tim panicked. He had called Jason cause he assumed the older wouldn't care much about how rough Tim's voice was. Or how weak he sounded. He didn't expect the Vigilante to wanna show up in person!

Maybe he was mad, Tim's brain supplied. He probably wanted to beat him up for annoying him for no reason. Tim really didn't want to be in more pain. His body was cold and aching, and he just wanted to slip into sweet unconsciousness.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called." Tim apologised. He could hear shuffling and quick, heavy footsteps on the other end of the line.

"Don't you dare hang up, Replacement. I got your location from your tracker. I'm almost there." Jason sounded furious, almost frantic. "Keep talking to me, Baby bird."

Tim frowned. The world was spinning around him, and it was so so cold. He wondered if he would go into shock.

"I'm not a baby. I'm almost 18."

"Doesn't matter. You're still Dick's Baby brother. That doesn't change with time, believe me."

If he could, Tim would blush in embarrassment at this misunderstanding. "No, I'm not. Damian and you are his brothers," Tim suppressed another cough, wheezing in air. "I was just a placeholder when you were gone. They just let me stay around after you came back."

He could hear muffled cursing, and suddenly, there was a thud on the rooftop. The line clicked as Jason hung up, but Tim could vaguely make out heavy footsteps rushing towards him.

"¡Mierda!" Jason cursed, dropping down next to Tim and ripping open his uniform where the bullet wounds were still oozing blood.

Tim winced when he applied pressure on the wounds. This wasn't at all going to plan.

"¡Tu puta madre!" Jason hissed, "Why didn't you press your distress signal?!"

"I'm sorry-" Tim coughed. "I didn't want to make a fuss."

"Make a fuss?! You got three fucking bullet holes in your stomach, god damn it!" Jason sounded panicked, and Tim's guilt was eating at him. He didn't mean to make the other Vigilante worry.

"It's okay. I'll be fine, I promise-" Another cough cut him off. Tim's vision was starting to darken at the corners and he frowned. He needed to make sure Jason understood that his death would be temporary.

"¡Tonto del culo! Just shut up and stay awake." Jason pressed his distress signal. Bruce basically forced it on him, and Jason had taken it after much arguing back and forth. Tim didn't understand why Jason refused Bruce's affection. He wished Bruce would care about him like he cared for one of his sons. But that was a selfish want and an insult to his late parents.

He knew he was a selfish child. His parents made sure to remind him of his greediness, back when he was still too small to be left alone for long and forcing them to stay in Gotham. The guilt of burdening his parents never really went away. This was also the reason he never told them about his deaths. They would be ashamed of him. He was, after all, a Freak, not worthy of carrying the Drake Legacy.

He fixed his faults, of course, or at least did his damn best to hide them. He stopped fidgeting. He became self-sufficient so his parents could travel. He learned how to talk to the elite and charm them by observing and copying Bruce and his parents' mannerisms at Galas. He forced himself to become the best version of himself.

It had never been enough for his parents, of course. Still, occasionally, after a business associate would compliment his parents on their "bright child," his father would look at him approvingly. Once, he even squeezed his shoulder.

And that was enough for him.

But sometimes, he still fucked up.

Like now, for example. He shouldn't have allowed those thugs to shoot him, but it was either him or the couple they were robbing. And he shouldn't have called Jason, making him, and probably by now, also the rest of the Wayne Family worry.

A greedy part deep inside of him relished in the hope that someone would care if he was hurt or dying. He knew how horrible it was for him to feel like that, but he couldn't help it.

He had already fucked up big time, so maybe...

"Can you hold my hand?" Tim whispered, not daring to voice his selfish want any louder.

"What?" Jason, who was still applying pressure to his wound, gaped down at him.

Tim's eyes glossed over, and he could feel a tear roll down his face. "I'm sorry- but I just need-" he trailed off, not knowing how to explain.

Jason almost gently moved Tim's head on his lap, petting his hair with his free hand.

"You're going to be okay, Baby bird," he shushed. "B is on his way. He's going to fix it-" Jason's voice was strangely choked up, and something wet was dripping on Tim's face.

He didn't want Jason to be sad.

"Don't cry," Tim said, his fingers twitching towards Jason's face, but his body didn't have the energy to move.

That made Jason let out a full-on sob, which made Tim feel even more guilty.

Jason kept mumbling reassuring words to him, and Tim thought it was nice.

Just this once, he was allowing himself to be held while he died. He greedily sucked in every word of comfort he was so readily offered.

He really wanted to thank Jason, but his throat hurt, his eyes were heavy, and he felt so cold.

Distantly, he could feel hands shaking him and two panicked voices calling his name, but he was so so tired.

So he slept.

Chapter Text

When his phone rang, Jason was in the middle of a stakeout. Only his most trusted lieutenants and the Bats had the number of this burner. His jaw tensed as he reached for the phone. His men knew better than to call him unless it was necessary, and the Bats either tracked him down on his patrol or, in Dicks case, just showed up at his apartment.

His grip on the phone tightened as he read the caller ID. The Replacement never calls him. After what happened in the Tower, the third Robin made a habit of staying far away from Crime Alley and Jason. If they met on patrol, Tim would try to act professionally but always stand out of reaching distance. Even on the rare occasions that Jason visited the Manor, usually cause Alfred insisted, he would always stand to the side, only engaging in the conversation if spoken to.

Jason felt bad for what he did to the little Bird. After he crawled out of the Pit, he was so full of anger and hurt. He felt betrayed by Bruce and Dick for replacing him, and Tim had taken the brunt of that anger. It wasn't justified; Tim was just a kid, after all, and it took Jason way too long to realize that. Every time the kid flinched around him, it felt like someone took a knife and stabbed Jason.

At first, he stayed away from the kid, not wanting to spook him more. After a while, he decided to watch Tim, just out of sight, as the kid grappled through Gotham. Making sure he didn't get hurt too badly. Recently, Jason even occasionally joined Tim on his patrols.

Their relationship was definitely not great, and Jason knew he would eventually have to actually apologize to the kid. But for now, it was slowly improving.

However, they definitely weren't at a stage where Tim would call him just to chat, which worried Jason.

"What do you want?" Jason winced at how grumpy he sounded.

The other side of the line stayed silent. But he thought he could make out a slight wheezing, which didn't help soothe his nerves.

"Replacement? You deaf or something?" Jason needed the kid to say something. Anything at all, just to make sure he's okay.

The kid's raspy voice started stuttering an apology. Jason didn't like the sound of that at all. Usually, Tim was straight to the point, maybe even a little snarky, especially while out as a vigilante.

"I'm sorry. I'll just hang up."
Now, that's something Jason would like to avoid.

"What's going on? You sound like shit."

The line was silent momentarily before a hesitant voice asked, "... could you just talk to me for a bit? About anything?"

That made alarm bells go off in Jason's head. He rushed to open his comm and track Tim's location. "Where are you right now?"

His hope that the kid was safely at the Manor was shattered as he located Tim a couple streets away, unmoving. The kids muttered apologies, and reassurances that he was fine didn't actually soothe Jason at all. In seconds, he was up and leaving his stakeout spot, mission forgotten. He even left behind his helmet and other equipment, only relying on his domino to hide his identity.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called." At that moment, Jason wished he was a bit more like his older brother. Dick was always better at dealing with the younger Robins. He always knew what they were going through and how to help.

"Don't you dare hang up, Replacement. I got your location from your tracker. I'm almost there." He was grappling from alley to alley, various horrible scenarios of what could've happened to Tim going through his head. "Keep talking to me, Baby Bird."

"I'm not a Baby. I'm almost 18." Jason huffed at how disgruntled Tim sounded about that.

"Doesn't matter. You're still Dick's Baby Brother." Jason left the 'and mine' unsaid. "That doesn't change with time, believe me." Jason would know; after all, Dick still talked about him like he was a child, and Jason had literally killed people.

"No, I'm not. Damian and you are his brothers. I was just a placeholder when you were gone. They just let me stay around after you came back." And wasn't that the crappiest statement Jason had heard all week. He would definitely have to have a talk with Bruce and Dick about reassuring the little Bird of his place in the family. He knew firsthand how unsaid words can make someone feel insignificant.

Jason finally reached Tim's location after what felt like hours, but it must've only been a few minutes. His burner slipped from his hands as he spotted the Baby Bird in a pool of what he assumed was blood. Adrenaline started pumping through his veins as he rushed to the kid, cursing, praying that it wasn't as bad as it looked.

"¡Mierda!" He ripped off parts of the uniform, revealing three gunshot wounds. The injury would be fatal if he didn't do anything about it quickly.

"¡Tu puta madre! Why didn't you press your distress signal?!" He hissed as he applied pressure on the wounds, desperately trying to stop the Bleeding. It didn't work well, and Jason had to force himself to remain calm. He needed to keep a cool head to get his little brother to safety.

Jason whipped his head up at Tim's explanation. "Make a fuss?! You got three fucking bullet holes in your stomach, god damn it!"

Tim's apology was interrupted by his coughing as the kid spat blood. This was not good at all. Jason prayed to every deity out there that the kid hadn't been lying here for long, but the amount of blood pooling around them was more than concerning.

"¡Tonto del culo! Just shut up and stay awake!" He barked as he pressed his distress signal, glad he gave in and took it from Bruce.

The comm in his ear crackled to life as Bruce linked up to him. "Red Hood. Report."

Jason almost sobbed in relief. And any other time, he would've given a snarky answer at Bruce's demanding tone, but he was trying to keep his little brother from bleeding out, and he just really needed his dad to come and fix it.

"Red Robin is injured. Badly. Three gunshot wounds. Lost a lot of blood. Actively losing consciousness. No imminent threats in the area." Jason reported, as his former Robin training kicked in. He could hear Bruce suck in a sharp breath.

"Nightwing and I will be there in 5. Keep him awake." And Jason almost slumped, relieved that his family was coming and praying his little brother wouldn't die in his arms. He would never forgive himself for letting another child die like he did.

Tim's thin voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. "Can you hold my hand?"

"What?" Jason stared down at his brother. Injured and bleeding, he looked so much younger than usual. More exhausted than any child his age should be.

"I'm sorry. But I just need-" Horrified, Jason realized that this child, his brother, was apologizing for asking for comfort while actively bleeding out. Jason's heart broke right then and there, and he rushed to rest Tim's head on his lap, petting his hair soothingly with the hand that wasn't stopping the Bleeding.

"You're going to be okay, Baby Bird. B is on his way. He's going to fix it-" He didn't believe his own words, and tears dripped down his face as he cradled his baby brother close.

"Don't cry," Tim whispered weakly, and Jason couldn't hold back the sob clawing itself out of his throat.

His brother was dying, and in his last moments, he still cared about Jason's feelings.

"Stupid baby bird. So selfless." Jason hushed, "It's going to be okay. You're going to be fine. Just stay with me, Tim. B will be here soon."

Tim hummed, a soft smile painted on his features. And Jason watched with horror as his eyes slipped closed.

"No! No! Baby Bird, please!" Jason cried out, shaking him.

"Jaybird!" Batman touched down on the rooftop, shortly followed by Nightwing, who didn't even stop to catch his breath before rushing to his brothers.

"Baby Bird!" Dick cried, scanning Tim's injuries and taking his brother's clammy hand in his own. "B, please! Save him!"

Bruce was already at Tim's side, gently removing Jason's shaking hand and applying pressure, working on stopping the Bleeding with practiced movements. Both Brothers alternated between whispering reassurances and pleading with their father to save Tim.

Jason knew they were too late when he saw his father's usually steady hands shake and slow down as he took Tim's wrist to check for a heartbeat.

Next to him, Dick was screaming and sobbing. Pleading his brother to wake up. Jason only felt numb as he stared at his little brother's blood on his hands. Tim looked so calm and peaceful laying there, despite the stark contrast of red against his pale skin.

Jason watched Bruce take Tim from his arms, wrapping him in Batman's mantle. He wondered if Bruce had done the same for him when he had died. Lifting him from the rubble and carrying him home.

The scene playing in front of him felt far away and surreal for him. He heard Bruce speak to Alfred over the Comms and could feel Dick hugging him and sobbing into his shoulder, but none of that felt real.

He didn't know how they got to the Cave, but he found himself staring at Tim's body on one of the medical cots. The blood on Jason's hands had dried, and Alfred gently guided him away from the Cave and up into the Manor, helping him wash his brother's blood off his hands. Jason felt sick at the sight.

He was led into the main living room, where Dick and Bruce were already sitting. Dick had buried himself in their father's arms, still sobbing. He wondered if they had grieved the same way when he was gone, and guilt raised its ugly head and clawed into Jason's heart.

Bruce looked up, and Jason's breath stopped. His father wore an expression he had never seen on him before. Gone was his pride and Security he always seemed to invoke. What was left was utter and complete devastation.

The man before him had deep circles under his eyes, grief clinging to his features. He looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders... and he was breaking under it.

Chapter Text

The ground below him was soft. Which was odd cause Tim knew he was bleeding out on the cold rock of a Gotham rooftop.

His fingers twitched as he slowly gained control of his body again. The familiar aching that came with every death traveling through his body. He always gained consciousness before full bodily function, which gave him time to prepare himself mentally for what was about to come.

With a jolt, he took his first breath. It burned as he forced himself to exhale the stale air trapped in his body for too long. He concentrated on the rise and fall of his chest, trying to remember the forms of meditation Bruce had taught him so long ago.

At last, he managed to open his eyes. He didn't see much at first, as some kind of thin cloth covered him. He hoped he hadn't been brought to the mortuary again. That was a really uncomfortable prison break, and he still had the scars from the autopsy.

Tim tried to remember what had happened before he died. The memories were always fuzzy and fleeting right after waking up, but they usually became more vivid the more time he spent back alive. He frowned at the mental image of Jason crying over him. Maybe he had hit his head after getting shot, which could've caused hallucinations.

With a bit of willpower, he managed to sit up, the cloth slipping down and sliding off the table. To his surprise, he found himself in the medical area of the Bat Cave.

His surprise was short-lived as horror filled his mind. That wasn't a hallucination. The Bats thought he was dead. He knew they didn't care about him like family, but he was also well aware of the responsibility Bruce felt regarding the vigilantes in his care. And while he got emancipated after his parent's death, he still had a working relationship with Bruce, and the man would probably feel guilty, especially after what happened to Jason.

Before he could start panicking at the mess he had accidentally caused, he was interrupted by the sound of sniffling. Curious, he slipped off the cot and walked around it. There on the floor was Damian, face tear-stained and red, curled around Titus's large body. The dog gave Tim a greeting bark, making the younger boy look up.

For a moment, they stared at each other in silence. Tim was shocked to see Damian express his emotions in such a vulnerable way, and Damian was probably shocked to see Tim breathe.

Then, like a light switch had been flipped, the boy started sobbing, startling Tim into rushing to him. The kid might not like him much, but he'd rather hear him throw insults around than see him cry like this.

"Dami, what happened? Are you hurt? Are the others okay?" Tim asked worriedly as he scooted close to him, carefully reaching out a hand to try and comfort him. Although he didn't know if he'd get it back in one piece if Damian decided to take offense at being touched by a "low life like Tim."

To his great astonishment, however, Damian just started sobbing harder and threw himself at Tim, who immediately scrambled to catch the child in his arms. After a couple of minutes, Tim slowly untensed his body, carefully enclosing Damian in a hug, even soothingly running a hand through the child's hair.

"Everything's going to be okay, Dami." He tries to reassure the boy. "What happened that got you so upset?"

"You died!" Damian yelled in between sobs. "Before patrol, I told you I wished you would fall and die, and then Baba carried you home, and you were actually dead!"

Tim was too stunned to speak. Never in a million years had he expected this kind of reaction from Damian upon hearing about his death. Hell, he kinda thought Damian would smile upon hearing the news.

"I didn't mean it! I promise I didn't mean it!" Damian continued to wail in Tim's neck, squeezing him tightly as if the older boy would vanish if he let go. "I don't want you to die! Please never do that again! Don't leave me!"

Guilt ate away at Tim's heart as he shushed the sobbing child in his arms. "I'm sorry. I promise I'll stay. Don't cry, Dami."

Tim didn't know how long they had been sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth, but after a while, Damian's sobbing ceased. The kid was slumped over in Tim's arms, looking utterly exhausted.

"Are you feeling better now?" Tim whispered in his hair and got a meager nod in return.

"Would you like to go up to the manor with me?" Damian replied with a tired hum, slowly untangling himself from Tim, who carefully got up, pulling Dami with him.

Tim was a little amazed when he noticed that Dami didn't let him go entirely; rather, he hung on to Tim's cape. He also realized that he was still wearing his ripped and bloodied uniform. No one must've bothered to change him out of it yet since he was officially pronounced dead. He assumed they would've likely done that, though, before dropping his body off at the morgue. A dead Teenager is one thing; a dead Vigilante, however, is a whole other issue.

"Let me get changed first. I don't want blood on Alfred's carpet." Dami just nodded, strangely silent, as they made their way over to the lockers. Tim took a shower and got dressed while Dami waited in a corner.

"I never saw that scar," Dami said almost timidly, pointing to Tim's chest. The older boy hadn't been fast enough to pull his soft Nightwing-themed Hoodie over it.

"I was lucky I didn't wake up while they were doing the autopsy," Tim shrugged, and Damian frowned.

"You died before." It wasn't voiced as a question but rather a fact. Tim nodded.

"How often?"

"I lost count."

Damian was very silent after that, hanging on to Tim's hoodie as they walked up the stairs to the manor.

When they reached the study, Damian stopped. Tim turned around and waited for him to ask.

"That time I cut your line... I thought you had a backup grappling hook, but that day, you left it in the cave. You said you got lucky and caught yourself on a window." Damian stared at Tim with red-rimmed eyes. "I thought it was odd cause it was extremely unlikely you would've been able to reach any of them in time."

Tim stayed silent. He didn't want to lie to Damian when he was so vulnerable, but he also couldn't bring himself to admit that he had died that night.

"It's okay," he said instead, pulling Damian into a tight hug.

"It is not." Damian disagreed as he let himself be rocked back and forth, like before, in the cave.

After that, Damian stuck even closer to Tim.

The first person they encountered was Alfred. The man was carrying a tray with Damian's favorite biscuits and a cup of tea. Despite his reddened eyes, he was probably on his way to comfort his youngest ward.

The elderly man did not drop the tray as he made eye contact with Tim, but it was a close call.

"Oh, my boy," he whispered impossibly softly, and Tim let himself be pulled into a hug after the butler had set down the tray on a cabinet. I don't care how you managed to return to us, but I am so glad that you did."

"I'm sorry, Alfred," Tim whispered as he inhaled Alfred's familiar scent of tea and freshly baked bread. "I should've told you, any of you. I just didn't know how."

"It's quite alright, my boy. I don't believe anyone will be upset about this surprise." Alfred said with glossy eyes, smiling down at Tim in that grandfatherly manner. The man always had a talent for soothing Tim's nerves and offering comfort in a way that didn't make Tim feel selfish. "However, I do believe you should quickly make your way to the main Living Room and explain what has happened to Master Bruce and the other Young Masters."

Tim nodded, and Alfred excused himself to take care of Tim's uniform and clean up the mess left behind in the Cave. However, Tim suspected the butler just needed a moment to process what had happened. But Tim would rather bite off his tongue than call him out on that.