Shattered Vision
_______
It’s black.
No-
Tim looks up and there is deep blue, scattered lights glimmering like stars.
He looks down.
Down into endless black.
In between is a sliver of white, like the sun on the horizon.
It’s odd. Tim feels his head tilt, disconnected as he watches himself pull a star from the sky.
Then another.
And another.
Soon it’s dark once again, all but the strip of light. The split that has spread, cracks crawling from it like breaking glass.
The gaps turn red.
And so does everything else.
_
They try to work while Tim is… asleep.
It’s rather quiet, everyone talking only when necessary and always quietly - partly because they’re worried to wake Tim, who needs the rest, but also due to the heavy weight that bears down on them.
Even Damian has gone silent.
Alfred goes through his chores more slowly than usual, each moment harder to do as he fights with himself to just stay by his grandson’s bedside.
Bruce buries himself in work, both for Batman and WI. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t eat what Alfred brings down for them, and definitely doesn’t look over to the gurney Tim is lying on.
Dick tries to work. He tries to do some routines on the bars, practice on the pommel horse, and a dozen other things. But every ten minutes, he’s back at his brother’s side, curled up in a chair.
Damian feigns disinterest and goes about his training. His eyes stray towards the bed, though, more often than he would like. Sometimes he gives up and just stops to stare at the bed from a safe distance.
_
Tim’s eyes won’t open, but he knows he’s awake. At least, he’s around 90% sure. He becomes more confident in his conclusion as his hearing seems to start working once again, picking up noises like several machines built for hospitals in use, the hum of computers, and soft echo of people speaking.
He can’t focus on any of these things, but that’s okay. He doesn’t really care, after all.
His hand twitches.
He also can’t remember.
_
Alfred is the one by Tim when it happens. He had been replacing various fluids when Tim’s hand twitched and his breathing changed minutely.
The elderly man finishes task before retrieving a basin full of warm water and a cloth. He stands close enough to carefully clean Tim’s face with the warm cloth, coaxing him gently into wakefulness.
Soon Tim’s eyes slowly flutter open. Alfred puts the cloth and bin aside, one hand moving to rest on the boy’s forehead. Tim blinks, waking slowly, and the butler pets skin and hair, brushing a few strands away from the pale face.
When Tim’s eyes finally focus on him, Alfred manages a small smile.
“Good morning, Master Timothy.”
_
It’s difficult, not running and just hugging his little brother, but Alfred made sure that they would be on their best behavior.
It was the sad look in the man’s eyes - not the glare - that made them cooperate.
Bruce and Dick stood at one side of the bed with Alfred on the other. Damian stood a ways from the end of the bed, just close enough to hear and see.
Dick gently took Tim’s left hand, the unbandaged one, “Hey Tim.”
“What…” Tim sighs. Alfred had given him some ice chips, but his voice was still a bit raspy. “What happened?”
“What’s the last thing you remember, Tim?” Bruce’s voice is gentle, but his expression is strained, conflicting emotions more obvious than they usually are.
Tim closes his eyes, brows furrowing in thought. Dick rubs his thumb over the back of the small hand in a supportive and calming gesture. It seems to help a bit.
“I was… in the kitchen. Going to make some coffee,” he frowns a bit. “Then I was here.”
“You don’t-“ Dick’s voice cracks a bit and he clears his throat. “You don’t remember doing anything? Feeling different or thinking something?”
“It was normal. Going over my day… Things I need to do. And coffee.” Tim’s annoyance with his inability to speak well at the moment is blatant and Dick squeezes his hand comfortingly.
“Nothing else?”
Tim stares at the ceiling, eyes glazed and confused.
“Nothing.”
This entry was originally posted at http://avanalae.dreamwidth.org/12211.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
It’s black.
No-
Tim looks up and there is deep blue, scattered lights glimmering like stars.
He looks down.
Down into endless black.
In between is a sliver of white, like the sun on the horizon.
It’s odd. Tim feels his head tilt, disconnected as he watches himself pull a star from the sky.
Then another.
And another.
Soon it’s dark once again, all but the strip of light. The split that has spread, cracks crawling from it like breaking glass.
The gaps turn red.
And so does everything else.
_
They try to work while Tim is… asleep.
It’s rather quiet, everyone talking only when necessary and always quietly - partly because they’re worried to wake Tim, who needs the rest, but also due to the heavy weight that bears down on them.
Even Damian has gone silent.
Alfred goes through his chores more slowly than usual, each moment harder to do as he fights with himself to just stay by his grandson’s bedside.
Bruce buries himself in work, both for Batman and WI. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t eat what Alfred brings down for them, and definitely doesn’t look over to the gurney Tim is lying on.
Dick tries to work. He tries to do some routines on the bars, practice on the pommel horse, and a dozen other things. But every ten minutes, he’s back at his brother’s side, curled up in a chair.
Damian feigns disinterest and goes about his training. His eyes stray towards the bed, though, more often than he would like. Sometimes he gives up and just stops to stare at the bed from a safe distance.
_
Tim’s eyes won’t open, but he knows he’s awake. At least, he’s around 90% sure. He becomes more confident in his conclusion as his hearing seems to start working once again, picking up noises like several machines built for hospitals in use, the hum of computers, and soft echo of people speaking.
He can’t focus on any of these things, but that’s okay. He doesn’t really care, after all.
His hand twitches.
He also can’t remember.
_
Alfred is the one by Tim when it happens. He had been replacing various fluids when Tim’s hand twitched and his breathing changed minutely.
The elderly man finishes task before retrieving a basin full of warm water and a cloth. He stands close enough to carefully clean Tim’s face with the warm cloth, coaxing him gently into wakefulness.
Soon Tim’s eyes slowly flutter open. Alfred puts the cloth and bin aside, one hand moving to rest on the boy’s forehead. Tim blinks, waking slowly, and the butler pets skin and hair, brushing a few strands away from the pale face.
When Tim’s eyes finally focus on him, Alfred manages a small smile.
“Good morning, Master Timothy.”
_
It’s difficult, not running and just hugging his little brother, but Alfred made sure that they would be on their best behavior.
It was the sad look in the man’s eyes - not the glare - that made them cooperate.
Bruce and Dick stood at one side of the bed with Alfred on the other. Damian stood a ways from the end of the bed, just close enough to hear and see.
Dick gently took Tim’s left hand, the unbandaged one, “Hey Tim.”
“What…” Tim sighs. Alfred had given him some ice chips, but his voice was still a bit raspy. “What happened?”
“What’s the last thing you remember, Tim?” Bruce’s voice is gentle, but his expression is strained, conflicting emotions more obvious than they usually are.
Tim closes his eyes, brows furrowing in thought. Dick rubs his thumb over the back of the small hand in a supportive and calming gesture. It seems to help a bit.
“I was… in the kitchen. Going to make some coffee,” he frowns a bit. “Then I was here.”
“You don’t-“ Dick’s voice cracks a bit and he clears his throat. “You don’t remember doing anything? Feeling different or thinking something?”
“It was normal. Going over my day… Things I need to do. And coffee.” Tim’s annoyance with his inability to speak well at the moment is blatant and Dick squeezes his hand comfortingly.
“Nothing else?”
Tim stares at the ceiling, eyes glazed and confused.
“Nothing.”
This entry was originally posted at http://avanalae.dreamwidth.org/12211.html. Please comment there using OpenID.