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Bernard has taken notice of injuries popping up on Tim before, with his boyfriend never explaining them, or even mentioning them, as if hoping Bernard wouldn't notice them. And Bernard would pretend he didn't, because most of the time, they were small injuries; like a finger cast, or a wrapped arm, or maybe even a slight jitteriness to his wrist or forearm. Bernard would normally chalk them up to skateboarding injuries, because he knows that Tim has always enjoyed skateboarding. Granted, he has actually seen Tim skateboard since high school, but he assumes he still does it.
Which was a flaw on his part. Because he should have never assumed. He should have asked Tim about the injuries, no matter how small they seemed.
Because now, watching Tim hobble over with a heavy limp, pain darkening his expression with every step, Bernard can no longer ignore or assume. He pushes to his feet and rushes over to help Tim walk, taking his boyfriend by surprise. Why should he be surprised? Does he assume Bernard has really never noticed his injuries, or does he think Bernard would never help him with any?
Both of those thoughts make Bernard’s heart ache unhappily. Why would Tim ever assume anything like that?
“Geez, Tim,” Bernard mutters, leading his boyfriend to the bed in his room. He's surprised his parents let Tim in; they've never liked him. Bernard has an inkling as to why now, with the bruises on his back being heavy hints… “Come sit down!”
Tim doesn't shrug Bernard’s help away. but doesn't say anything, either. He sits down when Bernard urges him to, much to Bernard’s relief. He does blink up at Bernard with confusion, however.
“What happened?” Bernard asks, sitting on the bed beside him. The mattress creaks as it dips under their combined weight.
Upon closer inspection, Bernard can now see bruising around Tim’s neck, dark and angry. His upper lip is split as well, with dried blood barely keeping the cut shut. Bernard feels his stomach twisting unpleasantly. These injuries could not be from skateboarding fails, or even tripping and falling. They had to be from a person. But who could be hurting Tim?
It better not be his family…
Tim avoids his eyes now, looking across the room at the wall. He still says nothing, fingers twining together as he worries at the skin of his knuckles. His knuckles are red and raw, as if he'd been punching something. Bernard’s eyes widen at the realization, and he reaches out to grab both hands and to separate them, so that the skin isn't further irritated. Tim is so surprised he doesn't fight it, instead watching this happen through tired eyes. He still hasn't said anything.
He's dissociating, Bernard realizes then.
Carefully, lightly, Bernard begins to rub small circles along the backs of Tim’s hands, avoiding the split knuckles. Tim seems to be hypnotized by the motion, because he doesn't look away, and doesn't blink.
“You're okay, Timmy,” Bernard says, hoping the use of the nickname would draw Tim back in. Tim isn't the fondest of the nickname, only allowing his older brother Dick to use it. Anyone else and it irritates the hell out of him. Normally, Bernard calls him Timmy to annoy him, to drive him up the wall. Now, he hopes that that annoyance will draw his boyfriend back towards his body. “You're with me, right? You're with me.”
Tim blinks owlishly, and finally looks up to meet Bernard’s eyes. His lips pull into a frown. “Don't call me Timmy…” he mumbles, and Bernard can't stop himself from snorting. Then Tim looks around with further confusion, eyes narrowing. “When did I get here…?”
Bernard frowns in return, and slowly and hesitantly releases one of Tim’s hands so he can cup one of his boyfriend’s cheeks. This grabs Tim’s attention again, and a small blush spreads across his cheeks.
“Not too long ago, don't worry,” Bernard tries to reassure. Tim hasn't had this bad of a dissociative episode in some time now, but luckily Bernard remembers how to bring him back and ease him into his body again. “Now, could you tell me what's wrong? What happened?”
Tim blinks again for a minute, and then starts with a jump. He's fully returned to his body, then. He's beginning to grasp the situation. That's good. Bernard feels himself relax a little, but his shoulders stay tense, and they will until he learns what happened to his boyfriend.
“Oh, shit, sorry Bern,” Tim says quickly, his words no longer slurring. Bernard shrugs to try and seem aloof, but he knows that Tim knows he's majorly worried. “I just- I guess I didn't know where else to go- I-” he cuts off, voice squeaking as his words fail. Bernard’s heart breaks.
“I don't mind at all,” Bernard says softly, lightly running his thumb over the cut in Tim’s lip. His boyfriend doesn't even seem to notice, which is a little concerning. He may still be a bit out of it. “Just… take your time telling me, okay?” But not too long, Bernard doesn't say. I need to know what happened.
“Okay,” Tim says. He leans into Bernard’s hand, his eyelids fluttering like butterflies. “Can… can we lay down?”
“Of course,” Bernard replies with a small smile. He lays down, tugging Tim down with him. Tim presses himself close to Bernard, hiding his face in his boyfriend’s chest. Bernard wraps his arms around Tim’s back, holding him tightly.
They lay there momentarily in silence, and Bernard reassures himself that Tim is alright now by listening to his even breathing, by feeling the rise and fall of his back and sides. He rests his chin on top of Tim’s head, waiting patiently for Tim to continue.
He's always happy to wait for Tim. When it comes to anything.
Except for maybe movies. They need to be on time for movies to fully enjoy the experience. Tim doesn't seem to understand that.
Tim draws in a shaky breath. “I-” he cuts himself off again. Bernard doesn't say anything. Tim nestles further into Bernard’s chest, as if trying to disappear into him. Bernard would be okay with that. Because then Tim wouldn't have to get hurt like this anymore. “Bern… I- I got.. in a fight.”
Bernard stops himself from huffing, that's obvious. Tim doesn't need a smart ass right now. Maybe a bit later once they've both calmed down.
“But-” Tim’s having a hard time with words right now. That's fine. “I… I almost lost.”
Bernard hums in response, running a soft hand up and down Tim’s spine. He rubs even lighter when Tim flinches at the contact, and he feels a few lumps which must be further bruising. He doesn't want to imagine them being anything else.
But who would Tim be fighting…? An old theory of his drifts into the back of his mind, but he stays silent with it for now.
“And I panicked,” Tim continues. His breath shudders. “Dick was there, he helped me not loose, but it was close and I got scared so I-”
He breaks off, and Bernard draws in a deep breath. “Tim…” Bernard whispers. Tim nods against his chest, not using words to respond. “Who were you fighting?” He wants to know for two reasons: reason one, he wants to kick their ass. Reason two, he wants to confirm something.
Another moment of silence passes between them. Bernard nuzzles into Tim’s hair, burying his hair in black locks. Tim’s hair is greasy today, which is a bad sign, because Tim always keeps his hair soft and silky clean. He waits.
“I-” Tim lets out a heavy, wet breath. Bernard presses a kiss on top of his head. Tim grabs fistfuls of his shirt, gripping tightly.
“Tim,” Bernard continues in a whisper. “Are you…?”
“...Yeah,” Tim replies the unspoken question, and Bernard’s breath catches.
Tim is Robin, or Red Robin.
His hold around Tim tightens, and he buries his face deeper into dark locks. Tim’s breath stutters, and he begins to shake lightly. A small sob escapes Tim’s lips, the sound sending an ache deep into Bernard’s very being.
“That's fine,” Bernard whispers, even though it most definitely is not. He's still Tim, yes, but he's also Robin, and always being thrown into danger. Always getting hurt like this. Bernard’s sure this isn't even the worst of the injuries he's received in the past. “You're fine, Tim. I'm not mad… just worried.”
Tim sobs again, and Bernard knows he's fully crying now. Tim’s grip on his shirt tightens, like he's holding onto a life line. Bernard doesn't let the thought that that would mean he's the lifeline pass his mind.
“I'm sorry,” Tim cries, and Bernard shakes his head, planting a kiss in Tim’s hair.
“You're fine, you're fine,” Bernard says softly. “But- how hurt are you? Why didn't you go to the hospital?”
“F- fine,” Tim says with a sniff, his nose stuffed with snot. “Not… not bad. Thought of- you. Safe.”
“Do the others know where you are?”
“No. Left.”
While Bernard is happy that Tim thinks of him as safety, he also knows that his family is most definitely flipping out right now. He moves one of his arms away from Tim, twisting to reach for his phone on his nightstand. Tim whimpers, and Bernard hushes him.
“Just grabbing my phone, babe,” he reassures him, bringing his phone over. “Gonna text your family that you're here and okay.”
“They’ll get mad,” Tim whines, and rubs his face against Bernard’s chest. “B will yell.”
Bernard huffs softly, opening his phone to his text messaging with Dick. Tim’s with me. He’s fine.
Oh thank god! Couldn't find him- Dick answers. Thanks for telling me! Can call off the hounds lol.
No prob.
Bernard clicks his phone off and then tosses it away, wrapping his arm back around Tim’s waist, not able to stop himself from pressing another kiss into black locks. Tim has quieted down, his breathing not as shaky as before.
“Sorry,” Tim mumbles. “Shouldn't have… come like this. Bad.”
“It's not bad,” Bernard mutters back, grabbing the blankets under them and fighting with them to cover them. Tim sniffles, and snuggles closer, if possible. Bernard smiles, filing away the fact that his boyfriend is a vigilante for later. They can deal with it tomorrow, over hot tea. And coffee, because Tim is gonna want coffee. “I'm glad you're okay.”
Tim doesn't respond to that, but Bernard feels his head shift and his ear press against his chest. Bernard goes quiet, because he knows Tim likes listening to his heart beat.
With his line of work, Bernard finally understands why he's so desperate to. Especially if rumors of dead family members and friends are to be believed.
“Bet you kicked ass,” Bernard says after a few minutes. Tim snorts.
“Yeah,” Tim says back. He's getting tired. Bernard can hear it in his voice.
“Need sleep?” Bernard asks. Tim nods.
“Yeah…”
“Okay. Good night.”
“Good night…”
Bernard smiles, and lays his cheek against Tim’s head. A stray strand of hair tickles his nose, and he blows it from his face. Tim murmurs as he drifts off into sleep, safe in his boyfriend’s arms.
Because Bernard won't let anything else happen to him, even if it's just for tonight.