[Thread] What happened to you?
Characters: OU: Tim Drake/Robin, OU: Cissie King-Jones, AU: Quatre Winner
Where: Om-Eski
When: After this, and all of the others that came before that.
Summary: Tim is injured and wants to go to bed. Cissie and Quatre want to know what happened. Begins as a log.
Warnings: Angst, irritability, possible violence
Tim was starting to feel his mind become cloudy--which was to be expected. While he'd been applying the gauze in his first aid kit to his face, he'd been busy hiding the evening's encounter from the other half of his mind.
It was nearly done now, and as he climbed through the window to his room, Tim let himself fade to the background again, so that the other could take over. He'd planted in him the strong need to get some sleep--it shouldn't be too much longer before he was in bed and resting from his injuries.
Cissie looked up from where she sat on her bed talking over the night's developments with Quatre; it wasn't so much the noise that drew her attention as the cold air coming in through the opening window. She stiffened a little--she had known meeting with Quatre now (especially after everything else she had done that night) was pushing it, but she still hadn't expected Tim to return quite so early. And even though she had been warned about the cuts on his face, seeing him enter their room with gauze covering one cheek from cheekbone to jawline made her stomach drop.
It wasn't hard at all to pretend she didn't know anything. "Tim, are you okay? What happened?"
Quatre tried not to let the tension show on his face as Tim entered. He had felt the other boy before he came in, but hadn't had time to warn Cissie. His eyes widened as they snatched glimpses of Tim's injuries. He could feel the rest. "Tim.....Tim, what happened to you?"
Tim blinked at them both in confusion. "It's... late. Why are you two still up?" He shook his head a little, trying to clear it. He was tired. He wanted sleep, not company. "Look--I need to go get changed."
Cissie's frown deepened and she moved to stand. "It's not that late," she said--which wasn't completely untrue. It was earlier than usual for Tim to return from patrol, even if it was later than she had been staying up. "Are you okay?"
Quatre got shakily to his feet behind her, his concern giving his limbs movement. "Tim...what happened to you?" Without his friend telling him, he could see black tendrils snaking around certain areas of his body, and Quatre knew what that meant. Tim had been injured...
"Huh?" Tim shook his head again, confused. Why were they so worried about him? He was just... tired. It had been a long night... hadn't it? "I'm fine--I just need to change and get some sleep."
Cissie watched him anxiously--he looked genuinely confused by their concern. "Tim," she said quietly, "what happened to your face?"
Quatre made slow, tottering steps toward his friend, eyes on each of the black areas of Tim's aura. The fact that the other boy seemed to not know what they were talking about made his stomach sink.
"My...?" Tim reached his hands up to his face, and frowned when he found the gauze covering one side of it. "I don't--" he shook his head. "I must have fallen or something." He gave them a pleading look. "Can I please just go to bed now? Can't we talk about this in the morning?"
Cissie sighed, but set her shoulders and headed for the first aid kit. "No," she said. "Let me at least look at it. It's your face, and I doubt you had a mirror when you treated it."
Quatre frowned more deeply than before, watching her go. This was not good...Batman wasn't supposed to provoke him *that* much... He took one of Tim's hands, leading him to a chair, and sinking down on the floor in front of him. "Tim, I think you may be hurt elsewhere, too..." A preamble to Quatre lifting his shirt to check underneath it.
"Quatre," Tim groaned unhappily, as he sat down. "You really don't have to do this--I'm fine. I'm just tired, and I want to go to bed." He glanced over at Cissie again. "Please? I'll be a good and docile patient in the morning. I'm not bleeding, and I'm not concussed--I'll be fine until morning."
Cissie hesitated, frowning at him and holding the first aid kit in her hands. She was tempted to listen--he looked unhappy and tired, and she was worried. "Can I at least take a look at your face before you go to bed?" she asked, compromising with herself.
"Just enough to rebandage those scratches on your face." Quatre added gently. A quick perusal of Tim's injuries proved that they were just bruises, and could be left until the morning. But they needed to ask him some questions. He moved to the side a bit, giving Cissie some room, but still watching Tim carefully.
Tim gave them a pained look, but finally relented. "Do you need me to take my mask off?" he asked with a sigh.
Cissie dragged her chair over next to Tim's, setting the first aid kit on his desk and opening it. She eyed the bandage on Tim's face, trying to ignore the way her stomach flipped.
"Maybe," she conceded. "Although I could take it off for you, but you seem rather attached to your eyebrows."
Quatre just sat back and watched for a moment. Then, though Tim had already told them the answer, he asked, "What happened to you? How did you get all those bruises?"
"I--fell," he said haltingly, almost stumbling over the words. "I think. " He frowned a little and busied himself with finding his solvent and using it to dissolve the glue so he could peel off the mask.
Cissie's hands faltered slightly as she removed the gauze from his cheek--it was just like before; Tim didn't remember. If she hadn't already heard from Bruce what happened, she probably would have been all over him for that uncertainty. As it was, she was presently more concerned with the wound on his face. She winced a little and started cleaning it, wondering vaguely if she should get out the butterfly stitches, just to be safe.
Those looked pretty bad- Quatre sucked a sharp breath in through his teeth. "Tim...you don't remember at all?" What he was aiming for was an absolute, flat denial, though so far he was convinced that Tim really didn't remember. Moving forward, he did what he could to help Cissie, biting his lower lip with concern. "This doesn't look like something you'd get from falling." The second sentence was more because he was playing a part- as far as Tim knew, Quatre was completely in the dark, too. In private, he would have to have a few words with Batman about this...
Tim closed his eyes unhappily and shook his head, ignoring the question. He let Cissie clean out the wound wihtout another sound. What Quatre was asking was ridiculous. He'd been injured. Of course he remembered how it had happened. He just needed to sleep and then he'd be able to tell them.
Cissie finished taking care of the wounds on Tim's cheek, placing a fresh guaze pad over them to keep them clean and dry overnight. She glanced at Quatre before putting away what she had been using--Tim's silence was as good an answer as she thought they could expect. "Do you want me to get you some ibuprofen?"
Quatre returned the look and shook his head, worry knotting his stomach. This just seemed to get worse and worse by the minute... But Tim would be alright for the moment...he hoped. "Let me help you lie down, ok?" The least he could do..probably the *only* thing he could do, was a little empathetic healing, which he would try once Tim was lying down.
Tim frowned at him. "I'm still wearing my armor, Quatre. I want to go to sleep. I can't sleep like this." His words came out very young, and a little petulant, but damn it, he was tired.
Cissie put her hand on Tim's arm, squeezing it a little. "Go change," she told him gently. "But don't get the bandage wet or I'll have to do that all over again." She decided against telling him that she and Quatre would still be here waiting for him when he came back--it might make him decide to sleep in the tub or something.
Where: Om-Eski
When: After this, and all of the others that came before that.
Summary: Tim is injured and wants to go to bed. Cissie and Quatre want to know what happened. Begins as a log.
Warnings: Angst, irritability, possible violence
Tim was starting to feel his mind become cloudy--which was to be expected. While he'd been applying the gauze in his first aid kit to his face, he'd been busy hiding the evening's encounter from the other half of his mind.
It was nearly done now, and as he climbed through the window to his room, Tim let himself fade to the background again, so that the other could take over. He'd planted in him the strong need to get some sleep--it shouldn't be too much longer before he was in bed and resting from his injuries.
Cissie looked up from where she sat on her bed talking over the night's developments with Quatre; it wasn't so much the noise that drew her attention as the cold air coming in through the opening window. She stiffened a little--she had known meeting with Quatre now (especially after everything else she had done that night) was pushing it, but she still hadn't expected Tim to return quite so early. And even though she had been warned about the cuts on his face, seeing him enter their room with gauze covering one cheek from cheekbone to jawline made her stomach drop.
It wasn't hard at all to pretend she didn't know anything. "Tim, are you okay? What happened?"
Quatre tried not to let the tension show on his face as Tim entered. He had felt the other boy before he came in, but hadn't had time to warn Cissie. His eyes widened as they snatched glimpses of Tim's injuries. He could feel the rest. "Tim.....Tim, what happened to you?"
Tim blinked at them both in confusion. "It's... late. Why are you two still up?" He shook his head a little, trying to clear it. He was tired. He wanted sleep, not company. "Look--I need to go get changed."
Cissie's frown deepened and she moved to stand. "It's not that late," she said--which wasn't completely untrue. It was earlier than usual for Tim to return from patrol, even if it was later than she had been staying up. "Are you okay?"
Quatre got shakily to his feet behind her, his concern giving his limbs movement. "Tim...what happened to you?" Without his friend telling him, he could see black tendrils snaking around certain areas of his body, and Quatre knew what that meant. Tim had been injured...
"Huh?" Tim shook his head again, confused. Why were they so worried about him? He was just... tired. It had been a long night... hadn't it? "I'm fine--I just need to change and get some sleep."
Cissie watched him anxiously--he looked genuinely confused by their concern. "Tim," she said quietly, "what happened to your face?"
Quatre made slow, tottering steps toward his friend, eyes on each of the black areas of Tim's aura. The fact that the other boy seemed to not know what they were talking about made his stomach sink.
"My...?" Tim reached his hands up to his face, and frowned when he found the gauze covering one side of it. "I don't--" he shook his head. "I must have fallen or something." He gave them a pleading look. "Can I please just go to bed now? Can't we talk about this in the morning?"
Cissie sighed, but set her shoulders and headed for the first aid kit. "No," she said. "Let me at least look at it. It's your face, and I doubt you had a mirror when you treated it."
Quatre frowned more deeply than before, watching her go. This was not good...Batman wasn't supposed to provoke him *that* much... He took one of Tim's hands, leading him to a chair, and sinking down on the floor in front of him. "Tim, I think you may be hurt elsewhere, too..." A preamble to Quatre lifting his shirt to check underneath it.
"Quatre," Tim groaned unhappily, as he sat down. "You really don't have to do this--I'm fine. I'm just tired, and I want to go to bed." He glanced over at Cissie again. "Please? I'll be a good and docile patient in the morning. I'm not bleeding, and I'm not concussed--I'll be fine until morning."
Cissie hesitated, frowning at him and holding the first aid kit in her hands. She was tempted to listen--he looked unhappy and tired, and she was worried. "Can I at least take a look at your face before you go to bed?" she asked, compromising with herself.
"Just enough to rebandage those scratches on your face." Quatre added gently. A quick perusal of Tim's injuries proved that they were just bruises, and could be left until the morning. But they needed to ask him some questions. He moved to the side a bit, giving Cissie some room, but still watching Tim carefully.
Tim gave them a pained look, but finally relented. "Do you need me to take my mask off?" he asked with a sigh.
Cissie dragged her chair over next to Tim's, setting the first aid kit on his desk and opening it. She eyed the bandage on Tim's face, trying to ignore the way her stomach flipped.
"Maybe," she conceded. "Although I could take it off for you, but you seem rather attached to your eyebrows."
Quatre just sat back and watched for a moment. Then, though Tim had already told them the answer, he asked, "What happened to you? How did you get all those bruises?"
"I--fell," he said haltingly, almost stumbling over the words. "I think. " He frowned a little and busied himself with finding his solvent and using it to dissolve the glue so he could peel off the mask.
Cissie's hands faltered slightly as she removed the gauze from his cheek--it was just like before; Tim didn't remember. If she hadn't already heard from Bruce what happened, she probably would have been all over him for that uncertainty. As it was, she was presently more concerned with the wound on his face. She winced a little and started cleaning it, wondering vaguely if she should get out the butterfly stitches, just to be safe.
Those looked pretty bad- Quatre sucked a sharp breath in through his teeth. "Tim...you don't remember at all?" What he was aiming for was an absolute, flat denial, though so far he was convinced that Tim really didn't remember. Moving forward, he did what he could to help Cissie, biting his lower lip with concern. "This doesn't look like something you'd get from falling." The second sentence was more because he was playing a part- as far as Tim knew, Quatre was completely in the dark, too. In private, he would have to have a few words with Batman about this...
Tim closed his eyes unhappily and shook his head, ignoring the question. He let Cissie clean out the wound wihtout another sound. What Quatre was asking was ridiculous. He'd been injured. Of course he remembered how it had happened. He just needed to sleep and then he'd be able to tell them.
Cissie finished taking care of the wounds on Tim's cheek, placing a fresh guaze pad over them to keep them clean and dry overnight. She glanced at Quatre before putting away what she had been using--Tim's silence was as good an answer as she thought they could expect. "Do you want me to get you some ibuprofen?"
Quatre returned the look and shook his head, worry knotting his stomach. This just seemed to get worse and worse by the minute... But Tim would be alright for the moment...he hoped. "Let me help you lie down, ok?" The least he could do..probably the *only* thing he could do, was a little empathetic healing, which he would try once Tim was lying down.
Tim frowned at him. "I'm still wearing my armor, Quatre. I want to go to sleep. I can't sleep like this." His words came out very young, and a little petulant, but damn it, he was tired.
Cissie put her hand on Tim's arm, squeezing it a little. "Go change," she told him gently. "But don't get the bandage wet or I'll have to do that all over again." She decided against telling him that she and Quatre would still be here waiting for him when he came back--it might make him decide to sleep in the tub or something.