Succedaneum: A person or thing that takes the place of another

Red Robin crouched over the edge of a rooftop building, a block from Crime Alley.

He raised two fingers to his comm link."Nightwing, any sign of her?"

There'd been signs of Poison Ivy's work around Aparo Park. With Robin injured, Batman had called Nightwing in from Bludhaven to help bring her in. Tim had taken up the task of finding and subduing the citizens who came into contact with her newest toxin. He'd just stopped a man attempting to force himself on a woman in a dark alleyway in the East End, jabbing the man in the neck with the antitoxin. He'd sent the woman to her apartment and told her to spread the word that it wasn't safe on the streets tonight. Though, in Gotham it almost never was.

"Nothing yet, Red. B and I are getting the GCPD to block off the area around the park until she's found. "

"Alright, keep me posted," he said.

He'd just started counting off the number of antitoxin vials he had left, when he caught a flash of yellow and green out of the corner of his eye. Tim turned sharply, just in time to catch sight of the signature Robin colors as the boy leaps via grappling line towards the next building. Tim growled and adjusted the frequency on his comm link.

"Demon Brat, what are you doing on patrol? B said you can't patrol when you're injured. You're supposed to be in the cave giving us updates about Poison Ivy's activity in the city."

"Tt-please. I will not be resigned to desk duty. If anything it should be you in the cave, since it seems to be the only thing you're good for."

Tim rolled his eyes behind the white-out lenses of his mask, refusing to take the bait. "Robin, go back to the cave before I tell Batman ."

"Tt—Batman has more important things to concern himself with at this moment."

"Either you go back or I take you back. I'm not catching trouble for you being a brat." Tim hoped his ultimatum would have the right effect.

"Like you could make me, Red."

Tim took out his grappling hook and readied it. Of course he wouldn't listen to me, he thought to himself, as he broke out into a run in the direction Damian had gone off in. He shot his grappling hook across to the next building and swung off into pursuit of the little demon spawn Bruce and Dick so affectionately dubbed family.

When Tim finally caught up to Damian...it was in the middle of a fire fight with some of Black Mask's henchmen. Tim watched Robin charge one of the men, katana slicing the air around him. The goon's gun was knocked from his hand, a second blow to the face had him spitting out blood. Robin ducked a wild punch, pivoting and coming up behind the man to deliver a swift kick to his back.

Tim watched all this from above, he saw the way Damian was favoring one leg more than the other, the tear to his calf muscle giving him a slight limp, not fully healed yet. Damian was an idiot if he believed he was in any condition to spar let alone take this fight to the streets. That injury was slowing his movements, his stance less steady, his kicks weaker.

The last goon was hiding behind a dumpster, shooting blindly into the mouth of the alley. Red Robin leapt, bo staff ready, from his perch on the roof ledge. He landed behind the henchman who whipped around violently at the impact of his boots with the gritty pavement. Before the man could even raise his gun, Tim slashed his bo staff in an arch across his body, connecting with the man's face and knocking him into the brick wall. The man let his gun clatter to the ground, out cold.

Tim turned on Damian, who stood staring at him, arms crossed, with a look of annoyance. "About time you caught up, Drake."

"No names in the field." Tim snapped as he started to tie up the thugs to leave for the GCPD.

"-Tt-"

Tim rolled his eyes, expecting nothing less from the 10 year old hero.

"Red Robin..." Damian started, and it was something about the lack of snobbery in his voice that had Tim turning in alarm. Damian was staring down at his body, fingers pressing into a dark patch on his shoulder. His green gloved hand came back wet.

"Shit." Tim breathed and was at his side in an instant, pressing a firm hand into his shoulder. "Let's get you back to the cave."

Tim pulled Damian into the Batcave and straight into the infirmary. He sat the boy on one of the tables and made quick work of stripping off his suit. Tim grabbed gauze pads out of a nearby drawer and pressed them into Damian's shoulder wound.

"Damian, put pressure on the wound for me. I need to get supplies."

Damian seemed to not hear him, his eyes closed in concentration.

"Hey!" Tim snapped his fingers in front of his face. Damian glowered at him, but at least his eyes were open now.

"I know it hurts, okay? I'll give you morphine just as soon as I get the bullet out and stitch you up."

"Tt. The bullet isn't what's giving me pains. It was your incessant jabbering the whole way here."

Tim watched him pressed the gauze to his wound and pointedly ignored the sharp intake of breath. He moved throughout the infirmary, gathering the supplies he needed. When he returned to Damian's side, the pads in his hand had bleed through. Tim washed out the wound and sent up a silent thank you that the bullet wound was a through and through, at least this way Tim could spare Damian the pain of having to dig it out. He stitched up the two holes neatly, taped on gauze pads, and wrapped Damian's shoulder.

"Morphine, Drake. I haven't got all day." Damian snapped.

Tim retrieved the syringe and injected Damian in the arm.

"You could say "thank you". I did just save you from bleeding out."

"You're right. I could say that." Damian replied.

Tim crossed his arms and waited for the words to come. After a complete minute, Tim raised an eyebrow at him. "Well?"

"Tt- I said I could, not that I would, Drake."

Tim dropped his arms to his sides. "Unbelievable...you're unbelievable. Lay down or something. I'm taking a shower."

He left the med bay and started stripping out of his suit. He folded the suit and placed it on a table. The hot water in the showers was a welcome reward for a night of fighting crime. He rinsed the grime and sweat of Gotham out of his hair, scrubbed hard at his arms and neck to removed dried blood, mostly Damian's. He would have loved to stay under the hot spray longer, but ten minutes later, Damian's shrill voice was yelling his name.

Fearing torn stitching, Tim wrapped at towel around his waist and ran back to the infirmary bed Damian sat on. "What's wrong?"

"Ask Grayson. He's tearing the whole cave apart." Damian pointed across the cave. He was right, drawers hung over, contents spilled onto the floor.

"Dick? " he asked. "What are you doing back so early? Did you and B find Ivy?"

Dick gripped the tabletop he was demolishing and squeezed his eyes shut tightly like he was in pain.

"Father isn't back." answered Damian, "It's just Grayson who tore into the cave like a madman. He won't tell me what's going on."

"Dick? Tim asked warily, "Are you alright?"

Dick came towards him and Tim thought he was going to get an explanation, but Dick just stumbled past him into the med bay and started pulling open more drawers.

"What are you looking for?" Damian asked.

Dick just pushed his hands into his eyes like he was going insane. Tim shared a worried glance with Damian.

"Dick," Tim called. "Let me get changed and I'll help you look."

He hurried to pulled on boxers and a pair of sweats. He returned to see the med bay just as destroyed as the rest of the cave and Tim had a feeling that Batman wouldn't appreciate that. Tim picked his way over to Dick carefully.

"Dick, what are you looking for? What's wrong?" Tim grasped his shoulder to spin him around. When he saw Dick's face up close, he was even less relieved. Sweat was dripping from the man's brow and his breaths were short and quick. Tim pulled his hand back...or he tried to because suddenly Dick was gripping Tim's wrist painfully tight.

"Tim...antitoxin...Ivy...hurry." Dick cast a worried look towards Damian. "I can't...I can't—"

"It's okay. I have some in my suit." Tim ran back to the where he'd left his suit folded on the table. Not sparing a second, he grabbed the whole utility belt and ran back to Dick.

"See? We're fine. I have two left." He tried to keep his voice light, but he'd never actually seen Dick high on Poison Ivy's sex pollen and he wasn't sure it was something he ever wanted to come face to face with. Especially with Damian in the cave. Every other time Nightwing had been dosed with the toxin, Batman had been around to deal with it.

Tim pulled out a syringe and uncapped it.

"Let me." Dick ground out and now Tim could really seem how hard Dick was fighting the effects of the toxin. When Dick looked up at Tim, he almost took at step back at Dick's pupil's, which were unnaturally large. He handed him the syringe.

Dick closed one hand into a fist and poised the needle over the obtruding vein. Tim watched nervously as Dick tried to inject himself with sweaty hands.

"Maybe you should let me—" Tim started.

"I've got it." said Dick.

"There isn't time for—"

"Fuck!" Dick cried as the syringe slipped from his grasp and cracked on the cold floor. Tim started at the liquid pooling out of the syringe into a puddle on the floor. Then remembered the crisis at hand.

He picked up the last syringe on the table and pulled Dick's arm towards him.

"Here, just let me—"

Dick's hand encased Tim's wrist again and Tim's chest clenched painfully when he looked at Dick's face and saw a smile.

"No. Timmy." Oh. no...