This would not leave my mind and would not leave me alone until I wrote it down. Mainly some Tim angst mixed with brotherly feelings. Maybe I'll add to this if wished. Let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics.

When his body hit the water, it was more like hitting cement.

That was possibly the drugs that he'd inhaled making him feel that way, but the air was knocked out of Tim's lungs nonetheless. He sank down in the tank, trying but failing to move his limbs quick enough. They would not propel him to swim, to get to the surface.

I'm paralyzed, logic told him. Paralyzed by fear.

I'm dying, fear said louder. Dying is a hero's fate.

His mask was waterproof, and so he could see Scarecrow's form laughing. It was hard for Tim to think straight, but he could recall chasing the criminal through the aquarium where he had been spreading his toxins to the animals. Tim thought he had a handle on the situation, until Scarecrow caught him off guard and he'd breathed in the new poison. He'd fallen then…hadn't he? Off the balcony, no, he'd crashed through it, falling from the floor above into the tank.

At least he thought that was what had happened.

It was hard to tell with the drugs coursing through his system. His body felt like lead, and he sank further, agonizingly slow. Scarecrow flashed out of sight, or maybe he'd run away earlier and Tim's brain was just catching up with the movement. The criminal was gone though, that was for sure. All the fish in the tank retreated to the corners, keeping far from his body. Tim wasn't sure whether he was holding his breath or breathing in water.

He couldn't even feel adrenaline anymore; he was numb. Tim's outstretched arm was able to reach the glass and he pressed his hand against it. Of course it didn't budge, and he floated away from the barrier that separated him from the outside. Further and further he sank, his vision darkening. And the worst part is that no one cares.

Because who really would come? Not Bruce, not Dick; they were off on their own missions. Tim was no longer Robin, so he didn't matter; his purpose was gone. Dick was the one that got rid of him anyways; he wasn't good enough. He'd failed. No matter what freedom Red Robin had given him, it all came down to Tim not being a good enough partner.

Was this the drugs talking or him?

The fish flashed around him, in one spot in one moment and in another position three seconds later. They jumped around like a skipping record, his brain unable to keep up with the movement. His eyes started to close as darkness closed up around him like a void. Just before they shut he thought he saw blazing blue eyes on the other side of the glass and thought that Dick was there.

But Dick's eyes had never looked that angry.

His hearing was fading out, yet he thought he heard something hit the glass. What was that sound that came after?

Cracking?

No.

Shattering.

Like a dam exploding, Tim was thrown out with the current, spilling onto the floor as the water rushed over him. Glass stuck into his uniform, the torrent of water shoving him into the tile. Blackness overtook him, and then in the next instant when he was more or half away he could feel himself coughing up the water that had entered his lungs, curling up on his side. His hands clawed at the floor, trying to grasp onto something, but he couldn't.

"Dammit," a gruff voice said, their form leaning over the teen. "What are you doing here, Replacement?"

Jason, Tim thought, but the word wouldn't leave his mouth. He couldn't speak; could only cough and gasp and jerk whenever he tried to move. The man wasn't dressed as the Red Hood, but as a civilian. It wasn't surprising that he still had his guns on him though, which he was putting back inside his jacket. Those were the angry eyes that Tim had seen, but they didn't seem angry now; at least not at him. Jason put a hand on his shoulder, gripping it so tightly that Tim was sure he'd still bruise despite protection from his uniform.

"Chasing after Scarecrow, I assume," a young voice replied, and the person it belonged to came and stood by Tim's head. "Father said he dropped off the radar for a while."

"Fantastic," Jason drawled sarcastically, turning Tim onto his back. "C'mon kid. What's wrong?"

While the older man checked him for external injuries, Tim couldn't reply; his body trembling like it was trying to repel the toxin. His breath came hitched as his chest tightened; it didn't occur to him that the drug could reach his heart so quickly, if that was what was happening. Logic was fleeing him every second; fingers twitching and grasping a weak hold around Jason's wrist. In response Jason looked up, and simultaneously ripped Tim's mask off. If he had been in his right mind the teen would have been shocked, but all he could do was try to stop himself from shaking. Jason pulled him into his arms, searching Tim's face for some kind of answer. "What the hell did he do to you?"

"He's paralyzed," Damian said, and Tim was convinced it was the drugs in him that made it sound like Damian was actually concerned. "Or rather becoming paralyzed. Scarecrow has tested it on multiple civilians. I can't believe the leader of the drug cartel doesn't know that."

"Shut up and fix it," Jason growled. The grip he'd had on Jason's wrist went slack as he lost feeling in his fingers completely. He thought his body jerked, was only half sure that he heard a gasping noise leave his lips; was there any breath left in him?

Damian crouched down, his hand falling to Tim's shoulder. "I can't do anything here; Father has the antidote. It is not fully developed either."

"We just need something," the older man insisted, and whatever else Jason said went silent in Tim's ears. He could hear nothing; Jason's lips were moving but no sound came out.

Jason shook him, as if to jar him out of his state. He looked afraid; Tim didn't understand why; he didn't really understand why suddenly he was seeing two blurry Jasons either. Bits and pieces of what he was saying made it through to his mind. "Stay awake…fix this…Tim."

"Tim!"

The tide of darkness overtook him and he drowned in it.

"What is taking so long?" Jason's complaint sounded more like a threat to Tim as he woke up. His eyes were closed, but his hearing was back and allowed him to listen in on whatever was happening.

"It's a counteractive drug, Todd," Damian said, as if tired of explaining. "He'll wake up when it kicks in if the fool is strong enough to survive."

Jason growled something in response, but didn't yell at the boy for insulting him. In Jason's mind he had done far worse to the Batfamily, and so he wasn't going to be a hypocrite and correct Damian. That was what Tim had come to understand, at least. He pushed the thoughts away and focused on his surroundings. There was something soft underneath him, a blanket around his waist. There was a weight on the mattress—he guessed it was a mattress.

He tried to move his fingers and found that they twitched. Daring to crack open his eyes, he found himself in a room that was all too familiar; his room at Wayne Manor. But what was unfamiliar was the fact that Damian was sitting on the edge of his bed, and standing by the window with his arms crossed was Jason. Tim wondered if he was hallucinating, possibly dreaming. He tried to sit up, and it caught Damian's attention who warned, "I wouldn't try that, Drake."

Too late, Tim was already propping himself on his arms. It barely lasted five seconds and his limbs gave out, and the teen fell back against the pillows. His muscles were like rubber, unable to hold his weight. Damian rolled his eyes, "Are you still deaf?"

"No," Tim said, and his voice came out thin and scratchy. It felt like he'd swallowed acid and his vocal chords were eroded.

Jason came over and picked a glass up off the bedside table and thrust it out towards Tim, his gaze hard. "Drink it. And don't tell me no or I'll force it down your throat."

If the threat had come from Dick then he would have taken his chances. Tim wasn't about to do that with the second former Robin and did as told, drinking from the glass. The water was soothing, and he cleared his throat afterwards and mumbled a thank you. Jason raised an eyebrow but said nothing in response, and an awkward silence came over the three. Tim finally said, "Um…thanks."

"Did you think I was just going to leave you there to die?" Jason questioned, and at Tim's silence he glared, in half offense, "I wasn't!"

"Neither was I," Damian chimed in, like he didn't want to be forgotten. Then, as if realizing how eager he sounded, turned his head. "Tt. I had no choice but to save you. Father would be displeased if I hadn't."

"Right," Tim said, actually having to repress a small smile. Something clicked in his head and he started to sit up again, "Scarecrow!"

Jason clamped a firm hand on his shoulder, forcing him back down. "Forget about him. We let Bruce know."

"The toxin is going to take a long time to leave your system," Damian said, like a know it all. "That isn't even a complete antidote. If you have any intelligence at all, Drake, you won't strain yourself."

"And if I choose not to listen?" Tim raised an eyebrow, not amused. The idea of being taken off duty by a child didn't appeal to the teen. Besides, he didn't have to listen to anyone; he was his own hero now.

"Then I will have no choice but to take forceful action," Damian replied, smirking. "Todd and I have already agreed on it."

"I took his weapons," Jason added, "just to be safe. And I set my guns aside so don't look at me like that. I know I'm not one to talk."

Tim looked between the two, gaze lingering on each of them for a moment. It seemed completely crazy that the people who had saved him were the most unlikely of their family to do so. And they were standing in his room, promising that if he tried to get out of bed they were going to force him to rest. Never in a million years had Tim ever expected any treatment like this. At a loss for words he finally asked simply, "Why?"

They didn't answer and Tim continued, looking to Jason, "There isn't any reason for you to help me. We've gone our separate ways, we fight for different reasons."

He looked to Damian, "And you…well you hate me. I don't see why you had any interest in saving my life."

Silence continued. Tim didn't think that he was going to get an actual answer, but Jason let out a half sigh, half frustrated growl and shook his head. "For being so smart, Replacement, you're really being an idiot. Because in some twisted way, we all really don't hate each other. We're just complicated and…"

There was a pause, and Jason rolled his eyes and said, "Hell, we care about you, alright? And don't think I'm repeating that."

Damian scoffed, "Do not expect me to say it…but Todd has a point."

Tim was stunned into silence. He'd never thought that he'd had a very strong relationship between these two brothers; what with Jason attempting to murder him multiple times and Damian…well Damian was guilty of the same thing. Sure, Jason was trying to be a better person, but he'd never seen this coming. And apparently he'd missed Damian's change of heart, or there really was sympathy underneath the hard pressed viciousness he possessed.

The teen leaned back into the pillows more. "This is not how I was expecting my night to go."

Damian scowled, leaping off the bed in annoyance. "We didn't have to save your life, Drake. Be a little grateful."

"That's not what I meant." Tim answered, blinking away tiredness. "I mean that I really needed help…and I'm glad that it was you two that came. For a while…"

It felt stupid to say, and so Tim shut his mouth. But Jason spoke up, staring at him critically. "You felt like no one cared. Think I haven't noticed?"

Damian shook his head, "Todd suggested we make sure that you were alright. He's becoming as bad as Grayson."

The older man scoffed and mumbled under his breath, and Tim just weakly smiled at the two of them. Maybe it hadn't been coincidence that they had found him that night, and he liked it better that way. Somehow being cared about by the two least affectionate members of their cracked up family made Tim feel better, a lot better than he had in a long time; it took the edge off his heart.

Footsteps could be heard coming from down the hall; fast paced; two pairs. Tim's expression seemed to grow more tired; he didn't want to deal with the commotion. Jason said to him, "Go to sleep. We'll keep them out of your business for a while."

"No weapons," Tim muttered sleepily. "Keep it civil."

Jason grunted in disapproval, "Always gotta make things harder on me."

"That is the basis of Drake's existence," Damian said, but this time his comment was without snarky tone. It almost sounded affectionate.

Tim smiled as he fell asleep, heard the two walk out the door.

They would be his guards, and Tim could not feel safer.