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Poison Oak	By : Owlgirl Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 2890 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Batman and all related characters are copyright DC Comics. I make no money off these stories.

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Bruce Wayne had been running through that night in his head ever since the actual occurrence of the events which lead to the death of his son. It isn’t the best train of thought to have (he wants to remember Tim as young and thriving, *happy*), but it’s the only thing he can picture. The way he looked, lifeless in Dick’s arms and the…smell, not of corpses, but chemicals.

Somehow from there (point A) to the here and now (point B), where he’s clutching a newspaper in his hand, The Gotham Chronicle showing an article about the strange growth of plants in Robinson Park, he has lost the line of fact, the way to the truth.

He doesn’t know if the strange happenings in his city have to do with his adopted son, but he has a feeling in his gut and that’s something he always trusts. If only he could *find* Tim, bring him back, make the house the same jovial place it used to be, but Bruce doesn’t know where to start searching. Tim could look like anyone (or anything), be anywhere and he doesn’t have enough time in the day to live his life as a CEO, to do patrol as Batman, and to look for his lost child who’s supposed to be buried in the ground and at peace.

He sighs and leans back in his armchair, eyes drawn towards the flickering of the fireplace. He’s tired, worked to the bone and there’s still no leads about his Robin’s whereabouts. But then again, it’s hard to get information when your best description is “17-year-old, 5’8”, possibly with Caucasian skin tone, possibly with black hair with long bangs, possibly mentally unstable”. It’s no wonder the scum of the city think it’s a joke.

Bruce isn’t even so sure it isn’t anymore.

It was hard enough to come up with some story as to *why* Tim’s grave had been dissected and the teen removed. Gotham: expect the crazies to come out and play. Of course, Commissioner Gordon is searching for Tim Drake-Wayne’s body so it can be returned to its grave and given another proper burial. It’s a shame he won’t find it (he won’t, he *won’t* because it has to be a walking corpse).

There’s nothing he can do at this point but wait and see…and remember.

~~

The gag was effective enough in muffling the boy’s screams and the bonds were holding, even under his surprising amount of strength. Robin was, in all definitions of the word, captured and the way the night was progressing, there seemed to be no escape for him. He was the most perfect specimen Dr. Woodrue’s ever had. His health and strength were sure to help lead to his survival where the others withered and died.

It was unfortunate that the bird wouldn’t come willingly though.

“I’ve had my…m-my eyes on you for awhile now, Robin.”

Tim’s eyes widened underneath the white-out lenses while he sobbed, watching on as the doctor prepared another syringe. The teen glanced down at his arm where his armor has been cut away and numerous marks dotted the skin that has begun to turn an off-shade. He was going to die here, alone, as the subject to some sick bastard’s experiment. Seventeen years wasn’t really a long and fulfilling life and Tim hadn’t done even a quarter of what he wanted to do, knew he *could* do.

“Now…l-l-little bird, this next one i-is a new compound I just mixed last night. A bit of aconitum…and c-caladium and last…some digitalis purpurea. A-All can be fatal…but I’m sure…with the other inj-j-jections earlier, you will…*survive*.”

That wasn’t not really a comforting thought, but living would be better than being nauseous and nervous and short of breath before dying.

The teen attempted to pull back as well as he could, but the leather bindings were holding him still for the doctor to do as he wished. Tim swallowed down another sob as the needle was inserted in his vein and the liquid was pressed into his system. He thought of Bruce and Dick, about the semblance of a normal life that he’d had since they took him in when his parents passed away.

He fell silent and he couldn’t even hear Woodrue’s stuttering in his ears anymore, only the pounding of his heart and the intake of breath.

He didn’t want to die.

It seemed like hours later when the doctor had finally finished sticking him with needles, watching, studying to see if there was any adverse effects. He smiled, finding there wass not so he retired to his desk, out of Tim’s view. The teen stayed silent with the buzz of the lab and the passing of minutes until he heard a sudden and very loud bang. He’d heard something like that before. It was the sort of sound a body made when it dropped.

He wrestled harder with the restraints, hoping for some sort of loosening, but there was nothing. Something was wrong with Woodrue…and despite how the man has tortured him, Tim made a promise when he took up the Mission: to save lives. He thought that maybe the botanist was still alive, but it became apparent quickly that he was not. The teen reclined and waited. With any luck, he’d be saved soon.

Tim attempted to count the minutes, though he lost track at 34. He was having a sudden problem with concentration even though he was nowhere near being tired, he was just on edge, prickly under the skin. He sighed softly, wishing absently that he could at get one hand loose so he could at least wipe the saliva off his chin from the gag.

Wishing seemed to be hopeless though, until there was a sudden crash and the sound of glass breaking, then a *thump-thump* on the floor. Footsteps, and they were coming in his direction. It had to be Batman and Nightwing and Tim couldn’t help but get worked up over it. He mumbled and whimpered, fighting harder against the leather bindings with a renewed energy. Maybe he was going home after all.

He recognized Dick’s familiar footfall, light steps that fall into a run. “Robin!” The man fell at his side, immediately taking out a ‘rang to cut open the restraints to let the teen go. When the gag came off, Tim fell into the acrobat’s arms, sore and half sobbing into the man’s shoulder.

“It’s alright, baby bird, we’re here now. We got you.”

Tim was aware of the sound of Bruce’s cape across the floor and the squeak as the man moved, studying the lab and taking samples of everything. Dick was petting his hair and examining the teen’s arm, noticing the needle marks.

“Batman.”

The towering man came over and kneeled next to his birds. He took Tim’s wrist in his hand and closely studied the marks. “We have to get back to the cave and take a blood sample.” Nightwing nodded as he brushed Tim’s long bangs back from his forehead. The worry was more than apparent on his face, it wracked his entire body, turning him into something unlike the graceful acrobat he had always been.

“Hear that, baby bird? We’re going home now.”

Bruce moved away, going towards the body of Dr. Jason Woodrue. He checked the pulse and found the man to be deceased and in his hand, he was clutching an empty syringe. He was experimenting on Tim, looking for something. Batman stood again, looking on the desk and flipping through the notes. They all involved botany, poisonous plants, combinations that the man had apparently been making. And from the looks of it all, Tim would not be doing too well.

“Nightwing. We’re going. *Now*.”

The acrobat nodded again and picked Tim up, lifting him gently like he was afraid the boy would break. He smiled down at his little brother as he cradled him close, making a little cooing sound. “It’s okay…”

Bruce led them out and to the stairs, then down quickly, heading for the alley where he parked the bat mobile. But when they get down a few stories, Dick suddenly made a panicked sound. The older man turned to see the acrobat kneeling with his head against the teen’s chest.

“H-he’s not breathing…” Dick rushed to set Tim down onto the concrete landing of the level above them and quickly began CPR. He worked and worked, trying desperately to get anything out of Tim but there was not a single change. After 6 minutes, Bruce put his hand on the acrobat’s shoulder and gave a squeeze. He shrugged away from the affection, taking Tim back into his arms, kissing his forehead and pushing back strands of black hair.

“Tim…baby bird…god, fuck…Tim…”

It took 3 days to track down Robin, to finally find him in Woodrue‘s lab, but it was 3 days too late.

~~

Who knows how long it will be this time until they find Tim.

Bruce turns suddenly, hearing footsteps in the hallway, light and practiced, but it’s enough to take him from his thoughts of that night. He holds tight to the armrests until Dick is stepping inside, wrapped up in his robe with an expression of sleeplessness and worry on his face. He strides across the room to sit down in the leather armchair across from Bruce and stare into the fireplace.

“Thought you could use some company.”
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Poison Oak