Tim doesn't expect Jason's take-out run to end with him returning with an unconscious and bleeding Dick Grayson. "What the hell happened?" Tim's off the couch and heading for Jason's first-aid kit before Jason makes it completely over the threshold. "Is your kit in the usual place?"

Jason grunts as he hauls Dick's unconscious form into his living room and unceremoniously tosses him down onto the couch. "Yeah, grab some towels, too. We're gonna have to clean him up first. The idiot got into a fight with Killer Croc."

Tim sighs heavily as he gathers the necessary items and tries to focus on the task in front of him rather than Dick's current state. "What the hell was he doing taking on Croc alone?"

Tim can hear Jason tearing away what's left of Dick's suit as he rushes out to the living room and tosses the towels to Jason. Jason catches them without so much as a glance in Tim's direction and immediately starts dousing them in rubbing alcohol. "Dunno, guess we'll just have to ask the moron when he wakes up. Seriously, for someone who's been preaching 'call someone before you get in over your head' to various people for years, you'd think he'd be smart enough to take his own advice."

Tim shakes his head as he helps Jason cleanse Dick's wounds. He knows Dick well enough to know that he only really pulls stunts like these when he's distressed and feels like he has no one to turn to. Tim knows that this is his fault, but there's nothing that he can do about that right now. All he can do is continue helping Jason to the best of his ability, even if that means helping him take his mind off of what they're currently doing. "Nah, he was raised by the king of 'do as I say not as I do'."

Jason snorts as he wipes away as much blood as he can from Dick's shredded arm. "Weren't we all?" He sighs at the four long, deep gashes marring Dick's arm as he turns toward Tim. "So, you wanna suture this or should I?"

Tim inspects the wound the best that he can through the still seeping crimson liquid. "It's probably for the best if we just work on it together. Comparatively, none of his other injuries seem that pressing at the moment and you have enough supplies. I don't want to leave those unattended any longer than we have to." Tim immediately gets to work threading the needle as Jason does the same.

"Bet you I can make mine neater than yours." Jason smirks at him, but Tim can tell that it's forced.

He knows what Jason's trying to do. He's trying to goad him into this little competition so Tim's hands will stop shaking and he won't screw this up. It's probably also an attempt to get him to focus on the stitches more than who he's suturing in the first place. Tim doesn't have the heart to tell him that it won't work, mostly because Tim's never felt the need to try and prove himself against Jason. Why would he? Jason was always the real Robin and Tim just the placeholder - but moreover, Tim knows how to distance himself from a situation, even one like this.

He gives himself a small moment to panic and worry, and then Tim takes a large breath and gets to work. The stitches are fast and precise, just the way that he was taught…the way he did them on himself all those nights ago when this whole fiasco started. Tim swallows thickly as he pushes that thought away. It's useless in this moment, and therefore inconsequential. All he needs to focus on now is working his way down one gash, and then the other.

He finishes only moments before Jason, and then the two of them start working on Dick's other injuries. Tim thoroughly inspects Dick's head injury, while Jason grabs all of the icepacks he owns for Dick's head, neck, and back. The back of his head is bleeding, but not profusely, so Tim merely wraps it, relieved that Dick doesn't need any more stitches. Tim knows that head wounds always look worse than they are, but he's still worried, especially considering that Dick's unconscious and there's obvious inflammation. Still, there's not much he can do about it until Dick wakes up.

The two of them manage to peel off the rest of Dick's Nightwing suit and get to work icing and wrapping his obviously broken ankle. Tim sighs to himself once again. They'll need to get the swelling down before they can do anything about that. Once that's done, Tim gives Dick a final once over before going to wash his hands, leaving Jason to clean up. "He'll need some pretty strong painkillers when he wakes up. Do you have anything on hand or should I call Alfred?"

Jason huffs out a breath and Tim can hear him tossing random items back into the first-aid kit. "Nah, I got stuff. We might need Alfred as backup, though. You know as well as I do that stopping a wounded Dickie-bird from exasperating his injuries is nearly impossible."

Tim groans at the thought as he returns to the living room and settles down on the floor next to the couch. "It's certainly not going to be easy, but keeping him entertained and making sure he doesn't move too much is the least that I can do."

Jason raises an eyebrow at him out of confusion as he settles down next to him. "Whatcha talkin' about, baby bird?"

Tim stares down at his hands. He desperately wishes he could go back in time and stop himself from ever going to the cave that night to stitch his leg, because, as far as he's concerned, that's the real catalyst for all of this. However, Tim has read enough reports from various heroes to know that that never ends well. "It's my fault."

Jason's brow furrows at Tim's admission. "What's your fault?"

"This…all of this." Tim wildly gestures to their surroundings. He feels like he's ten seconds away from having another break down, but he refuses…not here, not now, and not when the only one who really deserves a meltdown right now is Dick. "Dick only does stuff like this when he's extremely distraught and doesn't have anyone to go to about it."

Jason shrugs as he leans back against the couch. "Okay, fine, then you're even."

Tim blinks rapidly at Jason's assertion. He's spent over a week with Jason and still he has no clue as to how the other man's mind works. "What on earth are you talking about?"

Jason rolls his eyes dramatically. "When I found you, you were on a rooftop, shaking, looking like you were about to jump off without a line. Obviously some serious shit went down and you sure as hell wouldn't have been out there alone if you had had someone to go to, so ergo, you're even."

Tim shakes his head. He's not sure if he likes the simplicity of Jason's view of things. "You know we don't actually keep score, right?"

Jason raises an eyebrow at him. "Against each other? No, you guys aren't bitter enough for that shit. Besides, that's my thing, and you've taken enough of my shit, baby bird, so hands off my issues. However, against yourselves? Hell yeah, you guys keep score. You wouldn't see this as your fault, nor would it be eating you up inside, if you didn't. Not to mention, I'm betting Dickie-bird wouldn't have gotten in over his head in the first place, if he hadn't been fucked up in the head blaming himself, too. The only thing I'm still confused on is what the hell happened and how the hell the demon brat is involved."

Tim sighs heavily. He knew that eventually Jason would push for answers…no matter how much he steered clear of this entire conversation. "Long story short, Damian got hit with a spell that made him empathetic. Dick and I haven't exactly been on the best terms lately. And Damian used his lovely new ability against me in front of Dick, which brought to his attention certain issues that he was previously unaware of and was never supposed to notice in the first place."

Jason nods in understanding before draping an arm over Tim's shoulders. "So, what I'm really hearing is that Gotham craziness interfered with regular Bat miscommunication and now no one is dealing with the fallout of it, because that would mean you'd actually have to communicate with each other. The fact is that Goldie was oblivious and just figured out exactly how oblivious; you were emotionally stunted and forced to actually deal with your emotions without repressing them, like a certain emotionally inept Bat we all know; and demon brat being the worst messenger on the face of the planet only escalated things more, right?"

Tim can't help but laugh at Jason's summation of everything. He vaguely remembers a time when he was the mature one who could cut through all of the misconceptions and immediately get to the core of a problem, but it seems like that was eons ago. "Yeah, that's pretty much it."

Jason clasps his hands together with an exaggerated gesture. "Well, then, problem solved."

Tim scoffs as he raises an eyebrow at Jason skeptically. He still thinks Jason is oversimplifying things again. "Really? How so?"

Jason rolls his eyes again. "Easy, when Goldie decides to rejoin the land of the living, we shove painkillers down his throat, I work on fixing his stupid ankle, and then the two of you have a real fucking discussion. I'll stand here and threaten you both, if I have to. I want my damn apartment back. I assume demon brat is already being dealt with by good old Alfred, and if not…well, that's really B's problem anyway, and then we track down Killer Croc and deal with that."

Tim stares at him as if Jason has something truly sinister planned for all of them, which, to be fair, is completely within the realm of possibilities. He's really not looking forward to a Jason-monitored discussion with Dick, but Tim figures it can't be any worse than the last time Tim was trapped in a room with Dick. However, it takes Tim a second to register the last thing that Jason said and when he does his eyes widen in alarm. "Wait, you didn't incapacitate Croc?"

Jason growls as he suddenly shoves Tim away from him. "I went to go get dinner in the clothes I'm currently wearing. Exactly, how much stuff do you think I have on me?"

Tim glances at him with a critical eye, looking over exactly how much carry capacity Jason's jacket probably has. "This is a terrible part of town, Jason. I would expect you to leave with quite a lot of things."

Jason rolls his eyes once again. "Yeah, enough stuff to take down the local idiots and possibly one of the heavy hitters…not Croc, Bane, or Clayface; but then, I'm not moronic enough to go up against one of them alone in the first place." Tim can tell that Jason really wishes Dick was conscious enough to hear his tone. "I had an explosive on me and I threw it at Croc's face, and then I got the hell out of there. One would think you'd just be pleased I saved Golden Boy's ass."

Tim breathes a heavy sigh as he hangs his head. He doesn't really want to consider what would have happened if Jason had decided to go somewhere else for take-out. "I am, Jason. I really am."

Jason shoves him again before getting to his feet and stretching. "Alright, alright, that's enough of that. I'm gonna go change, and then get some sleep. I suggest you do the same. Dealing with a downed acrobat is gonna be hard enough without you passing out on me."

Jason leaves before Tim can reply, not that he expected any differently. Tim doesn't have any intention of moving from his spot on the floor. After all, it doesn't matter what Jason said. Tim doesn't think Dick and he are even at all…mostly because he doesn't think they need to be. It has never mattered to him how much Dick's actions hurt him. He knew Dick never meant for it to happen.

In fact, that's why Tim has always done his best to keep everyone from knowing how he truly feels. He constantly buries himself in patrols and WE work so no one can see how lost he is without Dick's presence. Not to mention, Tim knows Damian needs Dick more. It makes sense for Tim to keep his distance, because no matter how logical he is, emotions still get in the way.

He knows his pain, anger, and bitterness serve no purpose other than to fuel more of the same in both himself and Dick, which is why he's been doing his best to keep it to himself, even though Tim knows he's failed more than a few times at that. Still, he's well aware that if Damian's little magical mishap had never happened, then Tim would still be hiding his pain - doing what he does best - and Dick would be none the wiser. And that's the way it was supposed to be. If none of this had ever happened, Dick would have continued focusing on Damian, and Tim would have eventually moved on just as he always has. It would have been fine.

However, none of that matters now, because they're here and nothing can change that. Dick knows everything Tim has been trying to keep to himself and deal with on his own, and it's done nothing but make everything worse. Tim doesn't know how the two of them are going to deal with everything now, but he knows that neither of them have a choice. After all, if leaving things the way they are is going to result in things like this, then Tim refuses to simply continue on the way they have. After all, Dick's health and the mission always have and always will come first.

The End (for now)