Something was wrong. Dick could feel it from the moment the doors to the bunker opened, something bad had happened, it churned like butterflies in his gut. Pulling the Batmobile into its usual spot had him slamming on the breaks to avoid hitting an abandoned civilian car that is definitely not one of Bruce's. It had obviously been parked in a hurry, the car, barely in the parking space, its front doors left wide open.

Dick was out of the Batmobile in seconds, ignoring Damian's sarcastic remarks. Something was very wrong.

The smell hit him first. The coppery tang of blood hung, oppressive, in the air; like Gotham's summer smog, suffocating.

There was so much blood.

From the abandoned car to the med bay large red droplets were splattered carelessly across the metal floor and Dick found himself suddenly aching for the dark and dirty cave, where such things couldn't be seen in the low lights. He quickly discarded the cowl and cape, in favour of the faster movement and vaulted the stairs to the med bay, his stomach churning, anxiety wracking him as to who it could be. The churning worsening as, approaching the med bay, he could finally make out the bloody handprints and smudges of someone being rushed in for medical attention.

His immediate worry was for Bruce, though he had told them that he needed to catch up on some work for WE and that he wouldn't be going out that evening. Then he thought maybe something happened to Alfred when he was working in the bunker, though, if that were so, no doubt Bruce would be down here, himself, fretting over the elderly butler.

Cass, Steph and Babs were all out of town so that left only two people and he highly doubted Jason would come to the Bunker for help, which left only,

"Tim!" Dick gasped under his breath.

Peering through the glass on the med bay's doors, dick caught sight of him. He was so pale, there were bloody sheets everywhere, he was hooked up to a ventilator, heart monitor, IV and goodness knows what else. He was almost more medical equipment than human. Looking up Dick could see Alfred and Doctor Thompkins, diligently working on Tim, their movements effective and efficient; a tell-tale sign of having been called upon too often. He hadn't seen his brother look so frail since the Clench, his pale skin making the blood… his blood all the more stark.

He looked up again at their pseudo paramedics, and was met with Leslie's icy stare. Dick staggered backwards at the weight of it, his heart skipping a beat, he's only seen that look once before: when Steph 'died'. Feeling suddenly faint, Dick pawed at the wall behind him for purchase and slowly lowered himself to the floor of the bunker, landing with a huff as his legs finally gave out.

His head felt stuffy, his ears ringing with white noise. Feet appeared in front of him and he could faintly hear Damian say something, but he sounded so far away and Dick couldn't make out the words. It was as though they were underwater, all muted sounds pressure building up in his ears. Absently he registered the med bay door open and close, the quiet whoosh of its negative pressure cutting through his hearing like thunder.

Damian's feet left, only to be replaced with highly polished Oxfords; splattered with blood. A hand rested on his shoulder and suddenly the world came back into focus,

"Master Richard! Are you alright?" Alfred was saying, his voice quiet but insistent.

Dick sucked in a deep breath

"I… no, Tim, is he?"

"Master Timothy is recovering, though he has lost a lot of blood and gave us quite the scare. Doctor Thompkins is with him now. He'll be okay."

The world seemed to right then; he could feel the air in his lungs as he inhaled, feel the cold of the metal floor beneath him as he sat, slumped, outside the med bay's door. He was finally able to focus on Alfred patiently crouching beside him, no longer in scrubs from the med bay, but in his usual suite, stained red from when, Dick supposed, Tim was first brought in.

"Alfred! I, I'm sorry I don't know what came over me," he said as he moved to get up, though a wave of dizziness had him leaning on Alfred more than he desired.

"Careful now Master Richard, I do believe you were having a panic attack, you'll do yourself no good if you push yourself too hard. We'll get you sat in the observation room, so you can keep an eye on Master Timothy."

"I… okay." He lets himself be guided to the observation room, his legs too weak to get there by himself, almost collapsing into one of the chairs when Alfred tells him he can do so.

The observation room is attached to the med bay by full glass panels, and Dick spends what must be at least an hour just staring though the panes at Tim as Dr Thompkins and Alfred continue to stabilise him. There are so many tubes and monitors and it's almost overwhelming to him just looking at Tim, so small and pale in comparison.

What felt like hours later; he door finally opened. Dick expected to see Alfred, Bruce, or even Damian. He did not expect to see Jason, still fully kitted out in his Red Hood getup, walk through the door. He was missing his hood, sprouting instead a red domino. Dick gasped as he turned round fully, his suit was covered in blood, the harsh light making it glisten against even the dark of his body piece.

"I don't have time for you Dickhead," Jason huffed as he closed the observation room door. He looked like Dick felt; worn out, exhausted and asleep on his feet. He made his way to the other side of the room, as far away from Dick as possible whilst still being able to sit down. His relationship with Jason was… not exactly in the best place, but he thought it was at least better than this.

They sat in excruciating silence, the beeping from Tim's heart monitor the only thing preventing the quiet from ringing in his ears.

"Would you have picked up?" Jason asked, finally, still not looking at him.

"W- what?" He stammered back, confusion creasing his brow.

"If he had called, would you have picked up the damn phone or just told yourself you'd call him back later?"

The implication is obvious, he's not been there for Tim, and not just that, he's not even made his little brother a semblance of a priority. He knew, when he hadn't seen Tim out on patrol, he knew Bruce had done something Bruce-like with him, but he hadn't cared at the time to check in. No he just assumed Tim would call on him if he needed. Which, again, why he would do that is beyond him, not after everything. But,

"You'll always been there for me."

So why, when push came to shove, hadn't he?

It hurts. Deep in his chest. The shooting pain turns to a dull ache the more he thinks about not being there for Tim. He'd promised himself, he'd promised Tim it would never happen again, that he'd always be there to back him up. Dick can't help but see the smile that never quite reached his brother's eyes as he nodded his response.

God he's such a dick.

"Why do you care?" He asked finally, the silence between them becoming suffocating.

"What?"

Dick turns to face him, moving his entire body so he doesn't see Tim in the corner of his eye and chicken out of this conversation; as though he doesn't need the reminded that Tim would hate them talking about him behind his back.

"About Tim." Dick narrows his eyes, pausing to try an judge anything his can from Jason's reaction. The man never moves, not even a flinch, merely continues to stare at Tim. "You've never cared about his well-being before, in fact you've tried to kill him twice, almost succeeded too." He was getting angry, his voice agitated, his tone sharp. The little Alfred in his head told him to calm down, that his anger would solve nothing, but boy did it finally feel good to vent to Jason about his misgivings. "Do you even know how long he was on life support after Titans Tow-"

Jason punched the metal bench they were sitting on, the sound startling them both into silence.

Jason looks at him, face blank, the domino hiding any emotion from his eyes. He doesn't speak, at least not at first, but his shoulder sag under a weight Dick can't even come close to understanding. When Jason does finally break his silence he sounds tired, like someone who's waiting for an end.

"Did you know he's been patrolling Crime Alley?"

"He said something about moving there," Dick mumbled, confused, "I've been meaning to go over and see his new place I've just been,"

"Busy." Jason finished for him, his voice as cold as the Gotham night. Even with the domino Dick can feel Jason roll his eyes.

"He's… been patrolling Crime Alley?" Dick asked, hoping Jason would take his metaphorical olive branch.

"Yeah, and the place is better for it, ya' know?" he said, smiling. "I had a kid come up to me the other day when I was delivering some medical supplied to one of Leslie's clinics. She was babbling on and on about how one of the Bats had saved her from the 'bad men' and then walked her home via Gretta's for milkshakes.

"Her eyes were so bright with hope, it's something I haven't seen from those kids in years. The Red Hood can only do so much, I can make them safer… but I can't inspire them like you can. Guess I just appreciated him making the effort."

Jason paused, turning back to Tim and Dick could hear his breath stuttering in the silence,

"Then to hear him over the comms, guess I left I owed him something."

"What do you mean, hearing him over the comms? With Babs away, B working and you… doing whatever it is you do in silence, it's only been me and Dami over the comms all night."

"Bruce didn't give him a new communicator Dick, he was on the old line-"

Dick felt his world fall out from under him for the second time that night.

"What are you taking about, Bruce wouldn't do that… why would Bruce do that?"

Jason laughed, "You've obviously never been on his shit list enough Dick. Cutting off communication, isolating you, it's B's classic 'I'm disappointed in you' move."

"You're lying, Bruce wouldn't do that to Tim." The insinuation was there and Dick caught Jason's flinch at his implication that Bruce would cut him off.

"What else do you think retaking control of Wayne E was about? If you don't believe me, Birdbrain, I'm sure Babs left her station running if you need proof."

Dick was out the door as soon as he finished, Bruce wouldn't do something so fucking foolish, he refused to believe it.

As always Babs foresaw them having to use the Clock Tower in her absence, leaving the clock window with such a pick-able lock was practically an open invitation to the family. Even so, he slipped in as quietly as he could, careful not to disturb anything that could cause her unneeded problems when she got back. There was no way to completely hide his intrusion, but the least he could do was be courteous.

The station, at least the one recording the comms, was one of the easiest to use in the building. Babs' had once said it was to make sure it was 'Dick proof', and given his track record with some of the newer batcomputer functions, that was a very good idea.

The night's communicator recordings were all easily accessible; for both the new and old comm systems. Now he just had to find the correct time, which, in theory, should be easy, he just had to look at the recording for where the sound waves began. The old system should be silent, lest for the odd hack.

Pinpointing where the audio began he started playback,

"Red Robin to all points, I could use some assistance in an alley off 5th and Hamilton."

Dick could hear the pain in his voice and he immediately knew what Jason had said was true, Bruce hadn't given Tim a new communicator. He clenched his fist so hard he almost broke the earpiece he was pressing to his ear.

Then the painful gasps started, Tim had clicked his communicator on and then left the line open. They'd all done it, either so preoccupied by a fight or just needing to constantly relay information, in Tim's situation, it's what Bruce taught them all.

That didn't stop it from breaking his heart one grunt at a time.

He almost dropped the earpiece when he heard Tim scream. No longer able to hold back tears, Dick all but collapsed, sobbing, in the desk chair Babs' kept around for one of them to visit. The grunts became softer then, and if he couldn't hear Tim's wet rasps he'd have sworn he'd dropped him communicator. When he heard the tell-tale sound of a metal pipe clanging off a concrete floor he thought the worst must be over.

He was wrong.

"Kid, c'mon, please don't die on me. Tim, I need you to hold on buddy, I'm gonna get you home 'kay?"

"Bruce?"

"Tim, can you hear me? I need to move you okay?"

"Bruce… you came."

"Fuck."

Dick thought he might be sick, his stomach was churning, his chest was painfully tight.

"Oh thank God. Hey man, I need to borrow your car! Thanks, I'll bring it back,"

Dick sat in silence listening to his brothers' drive to the bunker, each wet breath from Tim tying another knot in his stomach. They knew Babs was away, why didn't they have anyone monitoring the line for goodness sake. It was defunct, they didn't have the man power, they were busy; excuses immediately sprung to mind, and faced with the reality that they caused his little brother to be sitting lifeless in a hospital bed, Dick couldn't find a real reason in any of them.

They should have had someone monitoring the lines, that they hadn't even set it up for Alfred was a whole new level of careless. He threw the earpiece onto the desk, and had just enough forethought to make a copy of the recording before streaking back into the night. He was glad he'd remembered to pick up the cowl before coming out, he needed to punch some thugs in the face.

When he returned to the bunker it was not nearly as quiet as he left it. It seemed Bruce had come down to the basement since he'd been out, and now he and Jason were in a shouting match.

"- to tell me my son had died!"

"Your son? That's fucking rich. If he was your son you wouldn't have fucking 'forgotten' to give him his new communicator, you wouldn't have taken away the very thing he devotes his fucking life to, and you most definitely wouldn't have waited three fucking hours after being told he was dead to come and see for your-fucking-self."

Jason had marched up to Bruce during his tirade, they were pretty evenly matched in terms of physical size and yet Jason seemed so much larger than Bruce at that moment. Jason must have ditched his domino at some point because his bare face was the angriest Dick had seen it in years; all reddened cheeks and bared teeth, there was a fierceness to his eyes that was indescribably 'Jason'.

"Does he really mean that little to you." Jason continued. Though his voice was no louder than a whisper the sudden quiet seemed to amplify his words. He sounded exhausted, his voice small and uncertain, as though a part of him was wanting so desperately for his words to not be true.

Bruce just stood there, expressionless.

"Can't even answer, typical." Jason said, the anger returning, but instead of going another round with Bruce he backed off towards the med bay. "I'll be with Tim, don't join us."

As Jason stormed off Dick turned his attention back to Bruce, he knew the older man knew he was there, and so he waited for him to explain himself. But he doesn't. He simply locks eyes with Dick for a couple of seconds and walks, calmly, back to the elevator.

Nothing, nada, zilch. No sigh of any sort of justifications of his actions, typical Bruce.

Dick could feel the anger bubbling up inside of him, too. Like lava out of a volcano, it was a slow but steady build-up of emotions, and though he could tell he'd not yet reached that tipping point, he was getting fucking close.

He couldn't be dealing with Bruce and his stunted emotions, not when he had far more important matters to attend to. Like being there for his brother when he woke up.

As Tim was, thankfully, no longer in life threatening condition, Alfred had allowed them to sit in the med-bay rather than in the observation room. Jason was already sitting on Tim's right, stripped down to just his undershirt and leggings, his hand barely grazing Tim's.

Dick took up residence at Tim's left, discarding the cowl on the back of the chair, but too exhausted to try to strip out of more of the armour. This time the silence wasn't heavy, or suffocating, but needed. Neither one knowing what to say but, rather, just being there for Tim.

"You know that injury he was faking?" Jason said, finally.

"Yeah."

"Apparently he's just done it for real."

Dick's heart skipped a beat, the injury was awful, yes, but they had been so lucky it wasn't worse. Tim could very easily be dead right now, Tim would be dead if not for Jason.

"Shit." Finally the tears come, whether in relief that his little brother is still there and fighting, or just that he was overwhelmed Dick will probably never know. He's already been through this pain once, he'd hoped never to go through it again, and yet here he is with another brother on his deathbed hanging by a thread.

"Yeah. Leslie's optimistic though, if he pulls through the next few days she should be fully recovered within three years."

Dick couldn't tell if Jason was being sincere or just using the dark sarcasm that was endearing all those years ago.

One thing was puzzling Dick,

"How did the bullet get through the armour?" he asked.

"Bruce." Came the reply, full of a bitter hatred that Dick didn't know if the pair could recover from. "As part of his 'dissuade Tim from patrolling as punishment' plan he took away his new armours, but Tim he, well he kept my old one, the one he found B in. Alfred said something about a stab wound creating a fault in the armour.

"He's really beating himself up about not noticing what B was doing."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"He has to know, in terms of culpability, he is the last person on the list, right?"

"This is the same Alfred Pennyworth we're talking about, right? The poor man would blame himself for everything that goes wrong in this house if he could." Jason said, with an amused huff, and went back to focusing his gaze just past Tim's hand.

"You don't have to stay you know." Dick said, after the pair had fallen back into comfortable silence. With his domino gone Dick could see the tenderness gleaming in his eyes as Jason looked down at Tim.

"I know, but I want to be here."