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Tim came to with a pounding head. He moaned and reached up with one hand to rub dust out of his eyes. His mouth was bone-dry and he coughed every time he inhaled, the air around him filled with dust. He tried to shift off the bothersome weight on his chest only collapse back onto his back as his sluggish mind finally caught up with the pain. He gasped shallowly through the pain until it receded to a more bearable level.
So something heavy was on his chest and he couldn’t move.
It took him a second to remember what was happening. What had happened.
It wasn’t much, just someone yelling “watch out!” and tackling him to the ground before everything came down on him. It had been a building. He was pretty sure he was currently buried under tons of rubble.
But-- Tim had been with someone. They’d been arguing before the building came down on them. He--
His eyes flew open. Shit.
“Jason?” he croaked out.
He cleared his throat a few times, trying to clear the dust lodged in his lungs. “Jason?”
He wiggled a little, craning his head around the small pocket in the broken concrete and twisted metal. The movement shot white-hot spikes of pain from his chest down to his toes. His vision went white and he barely choked off a scream.
He gasped harshly, the action pressing his chest and stomach further into the concrete on his chest.
It took several long seconds before his vision returned to normal and the pain receded to a more bearable level. So moving was entirely out of the question. Great.
He craned his neck, trying to assess any immediate danger and, most importantly, Jason’s situation and location.
Tim was stuck in almost complete darkness, but his eyes adjusted quickly. The best he could make out was the shape of concrete looming over his head and twisted rods that might have pieces of rebar at one point.
“Jason?” he called, his voice stronger as he slowly woke up.
There was something sharp digging painfully into his side that made Tim wince every time he breathed.
“Please don’t be dead,” he muttered. “God, please don’t be--”
There was a faint groan somewhere over Tim’s head and he sighed shakily, resting his head against the ground beneath him.
“Jason?” Tim called out hesitantly.
All he remembered was him and Jason ending up arguing inside a warehouse during patrol. Not only was he not in a good mood, but he was stuck under a collapsed warehouse. This was how he’d died. Different continent, but same story.
And Tim was completely pinned down by a huge block of broken concrete with a concussion and probably many other things he’d failed to take into account.
He heard Jason’s breathing hitch.
“Jason, don’t freak out,” Tim said as calmly as he could. “I’m here, okay? You’re not alone, and this isn’t a nightmare.” He kind of wished it was. At least you woke up from nightmares. And you didn’t die in your dreams. “Um… I’m a little-- stuck. I can’t reach my comm.”
One of his arms was pinned against his side and was definitely broken near the wrist. He could shift the other one, but just slightly.
“Tim?” Jason’s voice called, gruff and definitely panicked.
Tim licked his dry lips. “Yeah,” he replied. “I’m here. Can you-- can you come closer?”
Tim didn’t want to be alone, and even Jason’s presence would make him feel better. Why did he have to be stuck here with Jason fucking Todd of all people? Why not Dick? Or Steph? Or no one at all?
There was the sound of shuffling, then the sound of loose rubble tumbling and a pained yelp.
“Jason?” Tim called, his heartbeat picking up.
“I’m peachy,” came the reply. “My leg’s stuck.”
Okay. Tim could deal with that.
No. No, he couldn’t.
“Is it broken?”
“No,” Jason said after a few moments of silence. “Hurts like hell, though.”
“How are you holding up?” Tim asked.
“Like my leg is pinned by rubble, the fuck kind of--”
“You know what I meant,” Tim snapped.
Jason fell silent. Tim almost begged Jason to say something, just to fill the deafening silence.
“As long as you’re here, I’ll be fine.”
“Cool,” Tim said, forcing himself to remain calm. This was his first time buried in rubble, this was literally going to give Jason a panic attack. Tim would have to be the voice of reason.
“Can you comm Nightwing?” he asked. “To come get us?”
“Nightwing,” Jason called. “Nightwing, this is Red Hood.”
Tim strained his ear, but he was too far away from Jason and his comm was turned off. He could only hear Jason’s end.
“I’m alive. Red Robin’s with me. Injuries undetermined, but he can’t reach his comm so his arms are pinned. We’re stuck under the rubble.”
There was a pause. Tim knew what would come eventually. Assessment of his injuries.
“How the fuck would I know where, N? We are buried under seventy tons of concrete. I literally just woke up. Just fucking find us. Call in Superman. Call in the other one. Red’s clone boyfriend.”
Tim flushed bright red at Jason’s words and almost snapped at him to shut up.
“Seriously? Okay. Whatever. Hey, Red.”
It took Tim too long to register that Jason was calling him.
“Hmm, what?”
“Can you last three hours? There’s a situation above ground.”
There was a huge slab pressing down on his chest, making it hard for Tim to breathe. He was sure he was bleeding somewhere. The logical answer was no.
“Um... there’s-- there’s rubble on my chest. I have a concussion. I don’t know what else. I think I can.”
Tim had no way to guess what expression Jason was making.
“Says he’s got rubble pressing down on him and a concussion. Can you make it two hours?”
Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes--
“Fuck that,” Jason growled. “Sorry Red, guess it’s three hours.”
Tim didn’t think he’d last that long. At least not without passing out. Tim wasn’t sure if Jason could last that long without having a panic attack. Tim didn’t know how to deal with someone else having a panic attack. At least not like this.
He sighed and closed his eyes. “Do you-- remember what happened?” he asked, hoping to at least get something useful out of this situation.
“Drug smuggling in Crime Alley,” Jason replied hoarsely. “It was my case, then your dumbass showed up, gave up your location like a fucking idiot, and then they booked it after leaving us a little present in the shape of a fucking bomb. This is your fault, Replacement.”
That was a nickname Tim hadn’t heard in a while.
“Makes sense,” he replied, slurring his words just a bit. Probably not good. Concussions made him sleepy.
Jason fell silent. It was stupid for Tim to assume that he just didn’t have anything to say.
“When you said you had rubble on your chest,” he started slowly. “How big are we talking?”
Tim hummed. “Pretty big. Breathing’s hard.”
Jason swore. “What the fuck, Replacement? What the actual fuck--”
“You’re on the verge of a panic attack, I’m not helping matters,” Tim replied. “I can last three hours.”
“I don’t think you can and I think you know that.”
Tim didn’t reply. Jason didn’t say anything else.
Tim was almost lulled to sleep when harsh breathing snapped him out of his trance. He blinked, trying to remember where he was. Right. Buried under rubble. With Jason Todd. who was currently having a panic attack.
“Jason!” Tim yelled, wincing against the heavy weight on his chest. “Jason! Jason, breathe, okay? In and out. In and out. Can you do that? I’m right here Jason.”
He was. Jason couldn’t see him, though. Jason whimpered and coughed as he kept breathing in air filled with cement ground into a fine powder. Breathing wasn’t working and Tim’s mind wasn’t firing on all cylinders at the moment.
“Uh--” he coughed slightly. Damned dust. “Jason, did you-- fuck. Uh, the other day Damian asked to paint one of my pictures. The ones I hung over my desk. He came in and pointed at it, asking if he could paint it. Said it was for class.”
Jason’s breathing was still shuddering with repressed sobs, but was calmer than before.
“It was one of my favorites,” Tim went on, closing his eyes against the pain and exhaustion. Whatever adrenaline had been running through his system was slowly being flushed out, and boy, could Tim feel it. “I took it while I was still chasing after Batman and Robin with a camera. It was just a simple picture of Gotham City at night, nothing special, really, but it was one of my favorites.”
Jason’s breathing still trembled and he was biting back whimpers, but it was calmer and subdued.
He gave it back. And he gave me the painting. He said he was practicing landscape. I hung it next to the photo. I’d--” Tim licked his cracked lips. “I’d love to show you.”
Jason laughed wetly. “Sounds like a plan.”
Tim cracked a smile before the ground rumbled and everything started shaking.
“What--”
The rubble around them shifted. The slab of concrete pressed down and Tim screamed as his vision whited out in agony.
There was a terrifying moment where Tim couldn’t breathe. His lungs were being crushed by the concrete. He screamed and whimpered. Maybe he was crying. His ears were buzzing and he was gasping painfully for air, coughing out dust instead.
Someone-- Jason-- was frantically shouting.
The pressure became too much and there was a wet snap followed by a wave of agony. Tim screamed again, the world around him rumbling and shifting furiously, before everything vanished and he collapsed into the blissful folds of unconsciousness.
Tim woke up.
He hadn’t expected to wake up.
He groaned and gasped in pain as his body reminded him exactly where he was.
“Tim?” Jason asked.
He sounded wrecked. What the hell had happened?
“Jay?” he asked, his tongue heavy and his mouth dry.
“Oh, thank God.”
“Wh--what the hell happened?” Tim asked, his face feeling sticky from dried tears and sweat. There was-- oh. He was bleeding. The sharp thing poking his side had gone right through.
“Dick said another explosion. They-- we weren’t expecting--”
They hadn’t expected Tim to pass out.
“How long?” he asked.
“An hour or so.”
Oh. Oh no.
“I’m sorry,” Tim said.
“What the hell for?” Jason growled.
“For leaving you alone. In the dark. Y’know. With-- with--”
His head was swimming dizzyingly. It probably shouldn’t be doing that. Tim didn’t remember where he’d been going with that sentence.
“Hey, kid,” Jason said sharply.
Tim hummed in reply. His chest hurt so bad with every breath he took, no matter how shallow, and with all the dust in the air, shallow breaths were not enough. But with Jason trapped and on the verge of another panic attack, the only help he’d get would be Batman and the others when they reached them.
“Kid, don’t you dare fall asleep on me, you hear?”
Tim felt like laughing and crying at the same time. Three of his ribs had snapped already, and the sharp something that had been digging into his side had pierced his suit and skin and he could feel the blood sluggishly pouring out. It had to have been at least an hour since Batman had said they were trying to dig them out.
“Trying,” he murmured. “Won’t-- won’t leave you alone in the dark.”
This was how Jason had died, buried under a warehouse in Ethiopia, hoping for Batman to save him, alone and in pain. And Tim was damned if he was passing out and leaving Jason alone in the dark.
“Nice sentiment,” Jason said. “Worry more about what I’ll do to you if you pass out on me. I actually will kill you for making me worry.”
Tim huffed a laugh before gasping in pain. “That’s if I don’t die here.”
The fragile optimism Jason was trying to keep shattered.
“You ain’t dying here,” he said harshly. “No Robin’s ever dying buried in rubble ever again.”
“Not Robin.”
“You were. That counts, dumbass.”
Tim tried to stay awake, despite the yawning darkness beckoning him. There was no reprieve from the pain. He just wanted it to end. He couldn’t breathe.
Tim let out a strangled sob. “It hurts,” he mumbled.
He’d found himself in plenty of sticky situations while searching for Bruce, but he was suddenly glad he’d never been buried under tons of concrete slabs. Even with Jason next to him, he still found himself panicking and despairing.
“I know, buddy,” Jason said. “I’ll buy you shawarma when we get out of here. Sounds good?”
Tim couldn’t reach up to wipe the tears. They wouldn’t stop coming. The hitched sobs were sending bolts of agony from his chest. He was losing the battle with keeping the screaming at bay.
“And ice cream. I know a great place, just off Lexington--”
“I can’t--” Tim coughed, his breathing erratic, his heartbeat accelerating. “I can’t breathe--”
“You can if you stop panicking, kid,” Jason said, his own voice edged with panic. “Just breathe in and out, okay? Try to calm your breathing--”
The world was once again narrowing, and it was harder to fight against unconsciousness. Not when he was this exhausted and in pain. His body was shutting down.
“I’m-- I’m sorry,” he said softly.
Maybe he’d wake up again. If he did, he hoped it would be out of here and in his bed. He was leaving Jason alone again he thought before everything vanished again. He heard Jason yell his name.
There was a beeping sound. He recognized that sound. He didn’t know why it was there. He didn’t remember getting injured during patrol.
He opened his eyes and blinked sound blearily.
He was in a bed-- his bed? There was a machine next to him beeping steadily and an itch in his nose. He reached up with one hand to feel a nasal cannula. Oh.
The beeping was annoying.
He tried sitting up to shut the infernal machine off once and for all, but gasped in pain halfway up. He slowly laid back down and breathed shallowly until the pain eventually passed.
Okay, so sitting up wasn’t an option.
What the hell had even happened? He’d been on patrol, chasing down small-time smugglers when-- he interrupted their exchange, Jason yelled at him, the building blew.
He sat up in a panic, ignoring the twingeing pain in his ribs as he frantically looked around his empty room for Jason. His eyes caught the shape curled up in a plush armchair in a corner of the room and he gaped at the sight.
“Jason,” he croaked out, his voice hoarse from disuse.
Jason groaned and blinked around blearily. His eyes landed on Tim and he shot up, fully awake.
“Tim,” he said. “You’re awake.”
Tim blinked at him. That was not the reaction he’d expected from Jason Todd, the Red Hood, second Robin who, last Tim remembered, still pretty much hated him. Why, Tim didn’t know. After all, he’d been replaced, too.
“Jason?” he asked. “Are you-- are you okay? Were you hurt in the blast?”
Jason collapsed back in the chair and buried his face in one hand. “No. A little. Unlike you.”
Jason looked up again, eyes green and glowing in the fading afternoon light. Without all the aggression and anger, they were almost mesmerizing. Unlike the rest of him. Jason was a mess. His hair was matted and greasy, his sweatshirt and sweatpants rumpled, shadows under his eyes and face several shades paler.
This-- this wasn’t something that could happen in a day.
They had-- Tim vaguely remembered. Rubble. Pain. Something about shawarma.
“How--” his throat was dry and scratchy. He coughed.
Jason made his way to his side and handed him a cup of water. Tim took it from him with shaking fingers, one wrist wrapped in a cast, the other hand littered with small cuts.
“How long was I out?” he asked softly, eyes still looking over Jason.
“Five and a half days,” Jason replied, looking and sounding exhausted. “You passed out twice on me down there.”
“Down--” Tim frowned. “We were buried.”
He looked at Jason in alarm. “Were you--”
“I was fine. Batman and Nightwing dug us out. You flatlined. Twice. Once in the ambulance and once at Leslie’s.”
Tim winced. “Yeah. But-- you had a panic attack. Did you--”
“Yeah. Of course I did. Your dumb ass was passed out, I was worried--”
Tim snorted before he could stop himself. He cast a nervous look at Jason, but he didn’t react. He sat on the edge of Tim’s bed awkwardly, twisting his hands in his lap.
“I suppose that’s a fair reaction,” he said.
“Do you--” Tim set his cup down on the nightstand. “Do you want a hug?”
Jason would say no, call Tim an idiot, and leave. But he looked like he needed one.
Jason raised an eyebrow at Tim, his eyes shimmering with amusement.
“You need to rest,” he said. “Alfred would insist.”
Tim didn’t know what was happening.
Jason rolled off the edge of the bed to take up space next to Tim.
“What--”
“Shut the fuck up, I said I’d kill you if you passed out on me, don’t make me reconsider.”
Tim’s mouth snapped shut and he let Jason wrap his arms around him and rest his cheek against his head. This felt-- almost nice.
“When you wake up I’ll get the others,” Jason mumbled. “They’re all worried sick. But you’re mine for now.”
“Sorry for passing out,” Tim said. “Twice. I don’t--”
Remember it. Yet. He remembered bits and pieces. Calming Jason from a panic attack, shifting rubble, an intense pressure on his chest.
“I will smother you with a pillow,” Jason mumbled. “Just sleep. I’ve earned it.”
Tim snorted but didn’t say anything.