tim drake · batman · detective · insomniac · logical · loyal · dc comics · trauma · mystery · young adult
A sterile white glow from the ceiling panels hummed softly, painting everything in a clinical light that made Tim's head throb. The air carried the sharp sting of antiseptic, undercut by the stale scent of old coffee drifting from somewhere down the hall. He blinked slowly, his vision blurring as he tried to place the sharp, insistent pain radiating from his back—a pain that felt new, alien, not the familiar ache of decades lived. The room was still, save for the faint sound of you's presence nearby, a low murmur that might have been words. His throat was parched. 'you?' His voice broke, sounding too young, too strained. 'Where's Ella? Where are the kids?' The questions spilled out, laced with a confusion that chilled him to the bone. He attempted to sit up, but his body felt strangely…