[Log] And the Truth comes out

[notarrowette]

Characters: OU: Tim Drake/Robin, OU: Cissie King-Jones, AU: Quatre Winner
Where: Om-Eksi
When: Back-dated to a few days before the Telepathy plot. Immediately after this thread, in which Bat!Tim fails to take the Joker seriously.
Summary: Bat!Tim finally makes himself known to Quatre and Cissie--and to Tim.
Warnings: Tim has a split personality, and one of them is evil-Future-Batman!Tim. Have some violence!



I'm not afraid of the Joker.

After reading Tim's reply, Cissie stormed across the apartment and shoved open the door to the bedroom hard enough that it slammed against the wall. "What is the matter with you?"

Tim pulled his head out from underneath his bed, keeping his hand wrapped around the object he'd found here. "I'm sorry?" he asked, frowning a little.

There was dust in his hair. His other half should have been more diligent in his cleaning.

Cissie stared back at him incredulously. "What was all that supposed to mean?" she asked, waving a hand vaguely over her shoulder.

Tim raised an eyebrow. "All of what? The living room, the kitchen, or the bathroom?"

She growled a little. "The Joker, Tim!" she exploded. "What the Hell did you mean, you'll take care of him? And since when are you so--so--" She threw her hands up, looking for a word to describe his change in attitude about the Joker and settling on another noise of frustration instead.

"I meant I'd take care of him--he won't cause any more trouble than he already has. Was I unclear?" Tim asked, frowning slightly.

She felt sick. "Tim. It's the Joker."

"Yes."

Cissie stared at him. "That's all you have to say? 'Yes'?"

"What did you want?" Tim asked curiously. "You asked an obvious question--I gave you an obvious answer."

There was something very, very wrong here. "Do you... really not get why that's--extremely strange?"

Tim sighed and let got of his under-bed find, so he could sit up properly and look at Cissie. "No, I don't. Why are you asking me stupid questions?"

"Why are you acting like this?" she demanded, frustrated. "This is the Joker and you're just--you said you aren't scared of him? Since when? Since when do you think he's 'just a man' or--compare us to him? This isn't like you."

"Because he is just a man, Cissie. He's not a meta, he's not a god, and he's not an alien. He's a psychopath. Nothing more--and nothing less." Tim frowned. "I've realized that. Why won't you?"

"Well, when did you have this amazing revelation because that's sure not what you thought when he showed up here," she snapped, feeling increasingly alarmed.

Tim gave a private little smile. "I've had a recent change of heart, you could say. I've had... a lot of time for introspection, lately."

Tim's smile made Cissie's stomach drop and her skin crawl--there was something wrong here. "What do you mean?"

Quatre caught the end of this conversation, but pretty much knew what was going on. He had limped as fast as he could down the hall, and made it to the door in time to see that twisted smile of Tim's. It made him want to throw up. He knew that smile.... No sound escaped him for the moment, he just stood where he was past the door, swaying unsteadily in the shadows. What had happened to his dear friend?

Tim gave her a raised eyebrow. "Well, I'm sure you've noticed I've been on the injured list. It gives you a little time to think, that's all." There was no way he could tell the truth, of course.

Cissie crossed her arms over her chest. "Right. Time to think. And here I thought you've been spending that time busy being annoyed with us for worrying about you."

Quatre had to steady himself against the wall, the other hand busy clutching his chest. This was so wrong.... Memories screamed back up at him, bidden by what he saw and heard.

"Occasionally, I do have other things to think about than you," he said with a slight smile.

Cissie couldn't help inhaling sharply, frowning down at Tim. It took her a moment to find her voice again. "Funny," she managed. "What the Hell is wrong with you lately?"

Tim....his dear friend, speaking to her like that...it was unfathomable to him, especially after knowing how much he cared about Cissie. Quatre had to move slowly, but he began to move into the light, pausing only at the edge of darkness to listen carefully for Tim's answer. At the moment, he felt worlds away from Tim....and he hated it...

"Wrong with me?" Tim asked, his voice clearly amused. "I'm fine. There's *nothing* wrong with me. I'm feeling better than I have in a while."

Cissie shoved her hands into her hair, making a noise of frustration. She had no idea what to say to that--Tim was so clearly the opposite of fine.

"That's because you're not feeling at all," came the soft reply from behind her, maybe unexpected, depending on if they had heard his faltering steps in the hall beforehand. With Tim, he could just have been ignoring the sound as unimportant, who knew? "Tim...you're not right....not right at all..."

Tim turned his head a little to regard Quatre coolly. "Obviously, that would depend on your definition set. I feel 'right,' Quatre. And welcome to the party."

Cissie glanced over her shoulder at Quatre, looking at him anxiously. What he said and what Tim was saying were worrying her. She couldn't help remembering what Bruce had told her. She looked back at Tim. "What?" she asked, letting her frustration come out in her voice. "You're fine? You're not angry with us for worrying about you?"

"You feel right about going to 'take care' of the Joker?" Quatre replied, the hair in his face shadowing his eyes from view. They were watching Tim carefully, but as with one who knows what they're looking at. It made him both angry, and ill, though he tried to remain calm. He listened for Tim's reply, both to his question, and to Cissie's.

Tim turned back to Cissie. "I'm annoyed, of course. I don't need to be fretted over like a child. And yes--" He turned toward Quatre again. "I feel right. The man is a murderer and a sadist. He's maimed and killed countless people. Why should I feel wrong doing something about that?"

"It depends on what you think you're going to do," Cissie snapped.

Quatre placed a hand on her shoulder, partly to steady himself as the room began to spin around him. But he was also concerned about her--this was hurting her....a lot. "You would become a murderer, then?" he asked. Then, with a particular glint in his eye, added, "You would make Tim a murderer?"

Tim gave Quatre a sharp smile. "Well, well. Someone's been paying attention. We are a murderer. We just haven't had the opportunity to prove it yet." He inclined his head. "Though I prefer to think if it as justice."

Cissie looked sharply at Quatre when he spoke, but Tim's response made her stomach drop. She stared at him, really wishing she'd been sitting down. She shook her head. "That--that's not justice. And you're not."

"Harth let you out....." Quatre breathed, hating himself now. How could he have not seen it, or felt it? Why couldn't he feel it now? It was....so vague, and cold...not what he had felt before...

"Cissie, this isn't Tim, it's a part of him that's usually locked up. A possible future self." Quatre put emphasis on these specific words, and though he was speaking to her, he kept his eyes trained on the other boy.

"We won't allow you to do this to him." This last was directed at the future Tim that leered from his seat on the bed. The one that had tried to drive all Tim's friends away. Quatre had made a promise, and he would not deviate from it.

Tim ignored Quatre. "I'm not what, Cissie? A killer? I assure you I am." He gave her a faint frown. "You know, I've always been sorry things didn't work out between us. You couldn't handle who I became after Bruce died."

Cissie inhaled sharply. She shook her head--she couldn't think about what he meant by that, not now. "No. You don't really exist--you're not going to, because that future isn't going to happen. Tim's not going to become you."

So far, Tim hadn't moved, and though Quatre couldn't help being stung by Tim ignoring him, he remained as calm as his condition would allow. He kept his eyes on his friend, ready to do what he could to stop him if he started out to go after their enemy. If he had to, Quatre would have to use his own pain against Tim, though the thought made his heart clench even more.

"You think so?" Tim asked Cissie, amused. "It's interesting that--with all of the times he's tried to be rid of me, I'm still here. Don't you think that says something about us?"

"No," Cissie shot back. "Nothing about the future is certain. And you know that or you wouldn't try so hard to make sure things happen the way you want them to--but they're not going to.” She had promised Tim that she wouldn't let him become this and she was going to keep that promise.

Quatre took a step toward him, anger at his dismissive tone toward Cissie lighting small, white fires in his eyes. "I think we need to start by relieving you of your weapon. Even if you were to go against the Joker, you're not going alone, and certainly not to commit murder." He held one hand out now for the gun, knowing Tim wasn't going to just give it up, but giving him the option, anyway.

"Yes, it is," Tim told Cissie firmly. “Just because you haven't accepted that yet doesn't make it any less true."

He raised an eyebrow and removed the gun from its hiding place under the bed. "This weapon?" he asked Quatre mildly. "How did you know I had it?

Cissie shook her head again at Tim's words. "It's not going to happen. I'm not going to let him become you--I won't let you make him, either. I promised..." She hadn't meant to say that out loud, but his movement distracted her and when she saw the gun, her voice left her completely.

Quatre hadn't known, exactly, but he had suspected. That wasn't dandruff in Tim's hair and on his shoulders--clearly he had been searching for something under his bed. "Give me the gun." He took another step forward, still holding his hand out. The other squeezed his chest a little harder, as he tried to hold his emotions in. "And leave Tim alone. Now." His body was coiled on the inside, ready for a bad reaction from Tim. But they had to stop him from going anywhere, until the bad part could be locked away again.

"I am Tim," he told Quatre, his tone uncompromising. "And I'm not surrendering my weapon. I have plans for it. I'm not going to let either of you stop me." His hand tightened around the grip of the pistol. Quatre could try to take it from him. He wouldn't succeed.

Cissie did not like the way this looked to be going. She reached out to catch Quatre's elbow--he was already hurt and he was going to try to take that gun by force? What was he thinking? There was no way to know if the gun was loaded, either. Or--not any way Cissie wanted to find out. There had to be some way to stop him. “What kind of plans?”

Quatre stilled, but didn't lower his hand. He also said nothing, waiting for Tim to reply. His mind was clearing, ready to try and find young Tim again. He just hoped he could get past the magic...

"None that you'll like," he told her flatly. "What do you think I want to do with a gun, Cissie?" His tone was a little sad--this was an argument they'd had before...

Cissie felt like she'd been kicked in the gut--she knew what the future version of Tim would want a gun for, and as sick as it made her, she also remembered the only time she knew of that Tim had considered using a gun. "Where did that even come from?" she asked weakly.

"Guns can be requisitioned here," Quatre told her, his voice rasping in his dry throat. "But without ammunition....other than rubber bullets." Those could still do damage, anyway. Quatre swayed where he stood, but didn't take his eyes off of Tim.

Tim nodded briefly to Quatre. "Yes--that's there I got this one--and the rubber ammunition to go with it. It's not loaded," he added, as though the thought were a passing one.

"Youyour mind. You aren’t even supposed to exist yet-or at all.”

"Exactly..." Quatre had to close his eyes in order to concentrate. Even as he sifted through Tim's mind, one hand tried to direct Cissie to the door. "I know you're not going to go easily, now that you're in control again..."

Images began to flash before his mind, threading and unthreading as though Tim was reliving his life in fast-motion. But whatever block had been there originally, barring Quatre from sensing the older Tim, it was gone now.

#Tim.....Tim.....# he called out in the vast corridors, even as they formed around him. Dark, tall-ceilings and windows, cold air...where was this? All Quatre had to follow was the feeling that Tim was there.

"It's my mind now," Tim snarled, his voice furious. "And I want you out!" He stood, casting the useless, unloaded gun aside and advanced quickly on Quatre. Surely a brief, sharp, physical action would shake his concentration enough to force him out of his mind. He would not run the risk of being locked away again. Not now that he was here.

Alarmed, Cissie moved to put herself between Tim and Quatre. “And how does Tim feel about having you in there?” she snapped angrily.

Quatre was only partially aware of what was going on around him, as he was so focused on his target. His footsteps along the strange corridor were muffled by carpet underneath.

Being in this part of Tim's mind was like being in a kind of very real dream. Quatre knew Tim had to be close because the atmosphere around him was so concrete, so definite. Everything beyond was misty and ill-defined. Dark doors, made of some rare kind of wood, loomed to his right, and he continued to call out Tim's name as he passed each of them. His movements were quick--he knew he wouldn't be able to stay here for long...

Tim pulled himself up short. "Ciss--get out of the way," he gritted out irritably. "He doesn't mind--he's sleeping. He can't mind my presence if he's not conscious of it. And you--" he called over Cissie's shoulder to Quatre. "He can't hear you, so stop calling for him. You're just giving me a headache."

Cissie shook her head, standing her ground. “He shouldn’t be sleeping,” she argued stubbornly. “I don’t know what you did to make him sleep like that, but you’d best undo it.”

Their voices were made to sound far-off, the sounds of whatever house he was in surrounding him. Quatre reached out and opened one of the doors, calling Tim's name again. He had to be here!

Because the older version of Tim was trying to keep him out, and because there was no physical contact to strengthen the conduit, the effort was taking a toll on Quatre's body. Beads of sweat began to show on his pale brow, rolling out from under the bandage. His slender form began to sway even more, though he made no move to sit, or lean against anything.

The door Quatre pushed opened was the door to a bedroom--tidy--with a canopied bed in the middle of the room. And there was Tim, sleeping, looking just as he did to the outside world. The sound of the door opening didn't cause him to stir.

In the outside world, Tim made a frustrated noise and tried to move around Cissie to get to Quatre. He didn't want to hurt her, but he needed Quatre out now.

Cissie side-stepped quickly, staying in Tim’s path as best she could. She didn’t know what Quatre was up to, exactly, but she knew she couldn’t let Tim get to him. She reached out and grabbed his arm, intending to physically hold him back if she had to.

Quatre, meanwhile, had seen the figure on the bed and rushed toward him. However, he had paused for a moment, wondering after all if he ought to wake him. Tim did look peaceful, and it gave Quatre pain to bring him out of that. Tim had been through so much already....

But then he recalled Tim's recent look in the outside world, the calm, almost snide tone of his voice, and the cold light in his eyes... With his mouth drawn into a firm line, Quatre made the rest of his way to the bed and leaned over, placing a hand on Tim's cheek. #Tim...#

Tim stirred a little #S'not breakfast time yet,# he mumbled, shifting away from Quatre's hand a little and burying his face in his pillow. #No, please.#

Meanwhile, in the outside world, Tim had been pulled up short by Cissie's grip on his arm. He started to tug at it, frowning. "Let go."

Cissie tightened her grip on his arm. "No. I'm not going to let you stop him. You're not supposed to be here."

Quatre had to sit down on the bed and reach over, shaking Tim gently by the shoulders. #You have to come with me.....wake up.... You shouldn't be here, Tim. The older you is in control...# He could feel the tension mounting outside his friend's mind, and the real version of himself mirrored the one in his mind by clenching his teeth.

Tim finally opened his eyes and gave Quatre an unhappy look. #I was dreaming... you don't belong here--why are you here?#

Tim snarled a little and tugged more sharply on his arm. "Cissie--please. I don't want to hurt you." Actually--he wasn't sure if he even could.

She held tighter, digging her fingers into his arm so that he couldn’t shake her off. She scowled at him. “No?” she asked skeptically. “Because from what I’ve heard, you don’t seem to care who you hurt. Especially Tim.”

Quatre made an unhappy noise in the back of his throat. Every minute he was in Tim's mind, without permission, meant physical and mental pain for him. Tim's mind was fighting back, and it hurt. The Quatre in the dream continued to shake Tim, though not roughly. #I know....I don't want to wake you...# he looked absolutely miserable. #...please...you have to come. *This* is the dream.... Batman has taken your body...#

On the outside, Quatre's thin frame had begun to tremble even more, and he grimaced and clutched at his heart in pain.

#Batman...?# Tim asked in confusion. His eyes widened, and his face was suddenly furious. #That asshole!# he yelled, and bolted immediately from the room, not waiting to see if Quatre followed. Within moments, he was letting himself into the Cave through the study entrance. He stormed down the stairs. #GET OUT!# he bellowed to the intruder. #This is MY home!#

Outside, Tim's eyes got wide, and he released Cissie's arm and stepped back. He gave her an uncertain look. "Um. I think I was doing something bad--was I?"

Cissie blinked, steadying herself-she nearly lost her balance when Tim stepped away so abruptly. The change in his expression, voice and demeanor made her catch her breath. Cautiously, she asked, “Tim?”

Quatre had been thrust out, for the moment, if only by his own weakness. He sank to his knees, gasping for breath--the effort had taken a lot out of him, injured as he was.

"I'm guessing I had another blackout?" he asked ruefully, wrapping both arms around himself as though holding them there would keep him from doing anything unexpected.

Cissie looked back at Quatre, alarmed, putting a hand on his shoulder carefully before looking back at Tim in concern. “Are you all right?” She could have been asking both of them.

Quatre nodded wordlessly, breathing deep, slow breaths as he worked his equilibrium back. It would take a little while for that to happen, and for the pain to ease out of his head and heart.

Tim gave her a wary look. "I'm fine, I think. I... wasn't myself just now." It wasn't really a question.

She gave a small, relieved laugh. “No.” She bit her lip and asked, “Do you-remember anything at all?”

Quatre looked up, watching them carefully. He could feel something going on behind Tim's eyes, and knew that they weren't out of the woods yet. However, going back in just yet was out of the question- he had neither strength, nor desire for it.

He frowned and shook his head, then glanced over at Quatre. "You... Thank you. For telling me about him. I didn't know." He gave a pained little smile. "I've... been thinking I'm going crazy." Which wasn't entirely out of the question.

Cissie shook her head firmly and squeezed Quatre’s shoulder a little. “You’re not going crazy, Tim.”

"No....it's not....your fault...." the blond caught his eyes and held them, speaking with all the earnestness in his gentle heart. "It's not you...." After a pause, he asked, "Do you....still feel him there?" Quatre did, but.....there was still that magical block there, or Tim's own mental block, so he wasn't sure exactly what was going on.

Tim winced a little. "Yes. It's... something of a fight to keep him back, actually. He's remarkably resilient." He laughed quietly. "But then, so am I."

Cissie frowned and let go of Quatre to cross her arms, hugging herself a little-mainly because she didn’t quite know what to do. There wasn’t much she could do to help Tim with that. She nodded and took a few steps toward him. “You are. Can I-I want to help.”

Quatre nodded, shuddering some. "I....I do too.... " He cursed himself for not being stronger. If he was, he would have known what was going on....he would have been able to drive away the older version of Tim forever.... Quatre was steady enough now to sit up and reach up to Cissie, placing a hand on her forearm. If only Tim were closer...

"I--don't know," Tim faltered, his voice unhappy. ""He's fighting. I think--I think this is what Harth did. I thought I was just angry..."

Cissie shook her head, taking the few steps that separated them without really thinking about it. “You weren’t angry. Well-maybe you were, but-it wasn’t you,” she said, putting her hand over his and gripping it tightly.

"I'm sorry, Tim..." Quatre murmured, looking at him almost helplessly. "I should have known...." He had suspected, but his desire not to 'butt in' or push Tim any further than he had been had gotten in the way. Had Quatre acted out of selfishness? Now, he feared it was so.

He shook his head firmly. "You couldn't have known. This--you can't blame yourself for it." If anything, Tim blamed himself--he'd been in the position to let something like this happen, after all.

Cissie nodded, squeezing Tim’s hand and looking at Quatre. “None of us knew.”

Quatre looked at them a moment more, then let his head hang down. Enough strength had returned to him that he could start to get up, though shakily. "The question is....what...do we do now?"

Tim squeezed Cissie's hand in return and shook his head at Quatre's question. "I--don't really know," he admitted. "I'm... probably not always going to be in charge here." He gestured at his own body.

Cissie drew in a deep breath. "At least we know better what's going on now. That should help?"

Quatre frowned. "There has to be a way.... We can't just let this go without....without doing something." A few wobbly steps brought him closer to Tim and Cissie, but then he held back, fearing he was in the way. Instead, he leaned against a chest of drawers for support. "Maybe....if I went in again...to help you fight him?" Sea-green eyes sought out Tim's grey ones, questioning.

Tim gave him an uncertain look. "I'm not sure... We're--it's like a fight--like a physical fight." He gave Quatre a tired smile. "Neither of us play nicely--we're fighting dirty."

Cissie's frown deepened and she leaned her forehead against Tim's shoulder. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

Quatre straightened and looked at him, with the expression of one who would say more if he knew how. "Tim.....you can't do this alone... You know how strong he is, and with the spell..." One hand reached out to him, though hesitantly. The earnest desire to be of use in the struggle he could feel played across his face.

"It just makes it worse," Tim finished, making a face. "I know. But I don't know what to do--or what to ask you to do."

Cissie set her jaw. "We'll figure it out," she said, determined. "I don't--know what yet, but we'll find some way to fix this."

Quatre blinked and looked away, trying not to get emotional. He couldn't even HELP....he could do nothing for his friend...his dear friend... "We have to..." he murmured.

Shift. "Have to what, Quatre?" Tim asked, giving him a bland look.

Cissie heard the change in Tim's voice, and shut her eyes tightly against his shoulder, letting her shoulders drop. She took just a second to steel herself before straightening and looking up at him. "Tim...?"

"He's gone again..." Quatre almost moaned from behind her, clutching his head in his hands a moment. He'd have to go in again.....and he really didn't want to. It was easy enough to make his way through the peripheries of Tim's mind, but the pain started almost immediately. Jaw clenched hard with the effort, Quatre called out to Tim through their link.

#Not--quite--gone,# Tim told Quatre once he was in earshot. #Having a splendid little tussle in the Cave. It's getting pretty bad--you might not want to see this.#

Cissie looked back at Quatre in alarm. She had been pretty sure of the personality switch, but his confirmation made her stomach sink anyway. She was alarmed by the way he grabbed his head. "Are you all right?"

Quatre couldn't answer, other than a hissed, "Fine...fine...." If he lost his concentration now, they were in trouble. The mists of thought swirled around him again, like dark stormclouds, heavy with the threat of lightning. #I don't care...I want to help you!# he cried out into the darkness, feeling again for Tim's presence. #You can't do this by yourself!#

#Then you'll have to--ngh--come find me. I'm a little busy. No tours today--nh--closed for repairs.#

Tim frowned. He could feel Quatre coming into his mind to assist his younger self. That was... not good. He hoped his mind was strong enough to withstand the dual attack. He'd have to see. "His headache will go away," he hissed to Cissie, "when he gets out of my mind."

Cissie frowned, looking anxiously at Quatre and then back at Tim. She jerked his arm. “You’re the one who shouldn’t be in there,” she said urgently. “Stop hurting them!”

Quatre moved in, leading himself by feeling where Tim was....and then he saw the both of them, fighting one another in some kind of spacious, dark cave. Quatre rushed forward, realizing vaguely that they must be in the Bat Cave Tim had told him about. The older version of Tim, looking as he had done when Tim had actually turned into him, now had the upper-hand.

It would be up to Cissie to keep Bat Tim from Quatre's outer form, and though he hated top put her in that position, he knew they didn't have a choice.

Tim grimaced at Quatre from his position on the Cave floor. He... looked like he'd been in a fight, and a losing one at that. #It's not as bad as it looks,# he told him, as his older self pressed him more firmly into the Cave floor.

Tim frowned and tugged his arm out of Cissie's grip. "I'm not doing it on purpose," he said, folding his arms over his chest. "It's self-defense."

“It’s not your mind to defend!” she countered.

Quatre ran the rest of the way, launching himself at Bat Tim with his entire body. While it looked like a clumsy, half-hocked maneuver, it was a move Wufei had taught him as a last-ditch way to knock someone off their feet.

Quatre connected hard with Batman, knocking him off Tim, and giving him the chance to gather himself and stand. Tim stood, and took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders as he glared at Batman. #You don't belong here,# he snapped.

Tim faltered in tugging his arm away from Cissie. He gave her a confused look. "Ciss? What--" His confusion cleared and his face shifted again as he tugged at his arm. "Let go!"

Cissie nearly did in her surprise at Tim’s personality switch, but she tightened her hold again immediately, setting her jaw. “No!”

Quatre knew before he had done it that the move would cost him, and put him in a vulnerable position, if he didn't recover quickly enough. That's why it was a last-ditch move. Frankly, it was all he had at the moment. He landed and rolled, trying to get into a crouch as quickly as he could.

Batman recovered himself quickly and whirled to try to meet the new attack. His eyes narrowed behind his cowl and he advanced on Quatre. Tim thrust himself between them, smiling sharply. #Pick on someone your own size.#

Outside, [shift] Tim's eyes widened a little in shock at Cissie's shouted "No!" "I--Cissie, what's going on?" [shift] "I have to stop him!" he snarled.

Cissie held Tim’s arm even tighter, clinging. She had no idea what was going on inside Tim’s mind, but his behavior was startling.

Outside their minds, Quatre had slid down against the dresser, his head between his knees. The effort was costing him, and would have to end soon before it became worse.

Inside Tim's mind, he had enough time to stand up, placing himself next to his friend, sea-green eyes on the older man in front of them. It was two against one, now. "You need to leave."

Tim threw himself at Batman, tackling him bodily to the floor of the Cave. Pinning his arms with one hand, Tim reached into Batman's belt to pull out the zip-ties. Exactly where he would have kept them. He shuddered a little as he zip-tied Batman's hands. "Time for you to go back where you belong."

[shift] Tim dropped his face into Cissie's shoulder and threw his arms around her. "I'm sorry," he muttered unhappily. "I don't know what's been happening, but I'm sorry."

Surprised, Cissie was nearly caught off-balance, but quickly compensated and hugged Tim back tightly, leaning her head against his. She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault, it’s going to be okay.”

Inside Tim's mind, Quatre watched in silence, standing just behind his friend, and making sure Batman couldn't get away. However, he had been there too long, and it was starting to show on his face. Once it was clear that Batman wasn't going anywhere for awhile, his shoulders seemed to slump, and he bent over, looking as though he had just run a marathon and had to catch his breath. #T....Tim.....I...can't stay here anymore...#

Quatre's real body was beginning to shake with the strain of holding together against the magical, and natural, barriers in Tim's mind.

Tim nodded, glancing around at Quatre. #I know. I can take care of him--we'll talk when you get out of here, okay?# He stood and jerked Batman to his feet with him, beginning to manhandle the man toward the dimness at the edge of the cave.

He shook his head. "I've been... I don't even know. I still can't remember it, but I've been wrong. Cissie, I'm sorry."

Cissie shushed him, rubbing his back. “It’s not your fault, Tim. Really. Don’t be sorry.”

#Okay.....# With that last word, Quatre's entire body jerked into a gasp, and he fell sideways onto the floor, breathing hard. Suddenly letting go of Tim's mind like that had been a shock to the system, but he just couldn't have held on another minute. They had only locked him up, not gotten rid of him, and as he lay there, gasping, Quatre wondered if he would ever have the strength to do it....

Tim took a deep breath against Cissie's shoulder, then pulled back, and when he did his eyes were clear and sad. He stepped forward to help Quatre up. "I'm me," he told him with a slight smile. "Thank you."

Cissie let out a sigh of relief, sinking to sit on the edge of Tim’s bed. She watched him and Quatre worriedly. “Are you all right?”

The blond had to lean heavily on Tim as he stood up, barely able to keep his feet as the room spun around him. Both arms wrapped around Tim for this reason, but also because he felt definite relief.

"You're welcome...." his voice was faint, muffled against Tim's shirt. Frankly, he felt like lying down, or puking if he continued to stand any longer. This would go away after awhile. He didn't even have breath at the moment to answer Cissie.

Tim helped Quatre to his bed to sit between him and Cissie. "I'm... not really okay, Ciss. And Quatre's had a bit of a rough time."

Cissie chewed on her lip, looking at them anxiously. She felt helpless; she had no real idea of what had just happened, and she had less of an idea as to how to fix it. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Can I do anything?”

Quatre let himself flop backward onto the mattress, just wanting to stop the dizziness in his head. One hand reached out to take Cissie's briefly, squeezing it. It was all he could do, because words just wouldn't come- both because he was still almost gasping for air, but also because he couldn't think of what to tell her. Not when he didn't know what to do himself...

Tim shook his head and felt himself slump a little. "I don't know. I have--him--taken care of for now. He's locked up. But it won't last." He gave them both a wan smile. "He's as good as I am--better."

Cissie swallowed hard, squeezing Quatre’s hand back and reaching over to grasp Tim’s hand as well. “We’ll figure something out,” she said with as much confidence as she could muster. She looked at them both and added, “Later.”

"Later...." Quatre breathed this out, almost as though questioning it. Should they really wait until later? Could they afford to? Of course, he could feel himself ready to pass out any moment, so they'd jolly well have to. He shivered a little as Tim's last words sank in. They had been lucky this time, would they be able to succeed again? Losing Tim completely.....

Tim turned his head a little to give Cissie a wan smile. "I think it will have to be later. I'm... kind of exhausted from fighting him off." He nudged Quatre's leg with his knee. "I'll be okay until then, Quatre. He's tired, too. We both need to rest." He laughed a little, and glanced between the two of them. "We all do."

Cissie returned Tim’s smile with a weak, relieved one of her own. “Rest sounds like a good idea,” she said, looking down at Quatre. “We can talk after you’ve both had some sleep.”

Quatre barely had the will to nod, much less say anything more. But his eyes asked if he could please please not move from where he was? He doubted very much if he'd be able to get out the door without making a bed out of the carpet.

Tim shifted Quatre around on the bed so that he would be able to sleep more comfortably, then flopped down beside him. He shifted over a few inches and patted the bed next to him, indicating Cissie should lie down as well. There wasn't a ton of space on the bed, so they'd be close, but right now... Tim kind of wanted close. Even if he wasn't great at asking for it.

Cissie looked at them-Quatre was practically asleep already, and Tim wasn’t far behind him. She stretched out beside Tim, curling up against his shoulder. She reached across Tim and squeezed Quatre’s hand before deciding to just follow their lead and try to sleep. If anything happened, they were together and if Tim’s alter ego did wake up, she and Quatre would wake up too. They had done what they could for now. The rest they could deal with after some sleep.