He gave up fighting it. There wasn't any point. He did enjoy her company. He needed her there, to keep him calm. To sleep. He couldn't sleep without her. He had nightmares.

And it wasn't like, after more than four weeks, anyone was going to find him. So Tim talked to her. He told her about school, about patrolling, about the Titans and Young Justice. He didn't give her names; she didn't need those. She had his school ID. Knew he was Tim Drake and his parents were Jack and Dana Drake, and she knew what school he went to. The rest weren't his secrets to give.

When she pressed him for details, he lied. He told her he knew Nightwing, who got the money for his toys because he owned a strip club. He thought Dick would appreciate that. He said Batman wasn't human, but was a meta. With wings. Who could fly. He said Superboy was gay and the young Green Arrow was his 'best friend.' He made up an entire world.

It gave him something do to, rehearsing the lies and creating new ones, making sure they all fit, when she was gone. He looked forward to seeing her in the evenings, when she spent hours downstairs. They played Scrabble and Risk--which he trounced her at--and Empire Builders. They played chess, but only once. Tim won. Cassie laughed and gave him ice cream as a prize. But they didn’t play it again.

He tried not to think about the room with the bodies. Or what might happen when she got tired of him. Or think of his family. They weren't coming. Maybe someday, when she let him wander around the house, he'd escape.

The thought made him shudder. He didn't think it very often. Afraid that she might know he had, might read it on his face. Lock him in with (rotten bodies) the flies.

"You need to let that heal."

Tim glanced up at her. Then down at his ankle. Bleeding. Again. "Oh. Sorry." He grabbed a tissue and wiped blood off his fingers. Then contemplated the game in front of him. "Cassie?" he asked, placing letters on the Scrabble board. "Could I have a book or something? For when you're not around?"

She frowned. "I don't know. Let me think about it."

Tim nodded. He was getting beaten. It seemed they played a lot of games where he got beaten. It was starting to bother him. It wasn't important enough to say anything about, though. Not by far.

They finished the game. Cassie won.

"I got you something today," Cassie said, smiling. "I saw it and thought of you."

Tim's eyebrows rose. He smiled tentatively. "What?"

She rose, walked out of the basement and up the stairs. Came back down a little while later with a bag. She handed it to him.

Tim opened it, then snorted a laugh. He pulled out a T-shirt with a Batman logo. It looked nothing like Batman's actual logo, but it was the thought that counted. "Nice."

"Does he get royalties from those? Or whatever you'd call them?"

Tim grinned. "Dunno." All Bat-related things were fielded through the Justice League--Wayne Enterprises would have been too obvious--and the funds went to charities.

Cassie grinned, stretching. "All right, you. Bedtime. I have an early day tomorrow."

Tim sighed and set the T-shirt aside. He now had a small--very small--collection of clothing. Three pairs of boxers. A pair of shorts. Two T-shirts, including the new one.

Cassie headed to the door, got the tranq gun--not that she ever aimed it at him anymore--and tossed him the keys.

Tim unlocked himself. Went to the bathroom. Brushed his teeth. Pulled off his shorts because he didn't really want to sleep in them, and headed back to the bed in just his boxers. He stretched first, trying to limber up the muscles he couldn’t move while chained to the bed, and then locked himself up. He tossed the keys back.

Cassie settled in the rocking chair that had taken up permanent residence in the corner. She picked up a book and started to read.

Tim rolled over and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of her breathing. Anything to drown out the flies.

Eventually, he slept.

Felt a hand over his mouth, and woke struggling.

"Shh, shh, it's okay. It's me."

He froze, looking up into Nightwing's face. Not another nightmare. Fuck. He tried to scream.

"Jesus, Timmy! Cut it out!"

He thrashed, clawing at the skin below the mask, until Nightwing's free hand grabbed him and flipped him onto his stomach, pinning him.

"Stop. It's okay. It's me. You're safe."

He whimpered. Waited for the flies to start.

"It's all right. Tim, I'm going to take my hand off your mouth now, okay?"

He said nothing. He was shaking.

Nightwing removed his hand slowly.

Tim filled his lungs to scream. The hand was back before he could. (If you didn't scream in the dream, did you scream in real life? Would she know he needed help?)

"Tim! Stop!"

"I'm going up." Batman's voice. Oh lord. He was going to kill her. Tim started to struggle.

"Tim, Tim, it's okay. Kid, relax. You're safe. Shit--what's wrong with you?"

Tim got his mouth free and gasped, "Don't hurt her! Please!" before the hand was over his face again.

"Don't hurt--what?" Nightwing's voice was laced with disbelief. "Batman--wait!"

A shadow on the stairs. Nothing more.

Nightwing hauled Tim up. Tim shouted into the glove when the handcuff scratched along his ankle, and Nightwing shifted quickly to relieve the pressure. "I'm going to let go of your mouth so you can talk, but only if you don't scream," Nightwing whispered.

Tim nodded. He could breathe again, just like that. "Don't hurt her. Please, I--fuck." He wanted to bury his face and pretend like it wasn't happening. His arms were pinned. "Fuck. No more dreams."

Batman turned and started up the stairs.

"Timmy, this isn't a dream," Nightwing said quietly. "Do dreams smell? 'Cause I promise you, I smell. I stink. I've been working all night."

Tim looked at him carefully. Then he pulled his arms out of Nightwing’s suddenly loose grip, put a hand on either side of the man’s face, and rubbed.

Stubble. Dreams didn’t have stubble. "Oh, God," he whispered. Relief. Hope. Terror. Shame. Guilt. He didn't know which he felt, or if it was all of them, or--

"Cassie."

"What?"

Tim started to struggle again. "Batman!" he shouted. "Nightwing, you have to tell him not to hurt her! Batman! Please don't--she didn't mean to--"

"She was forced?" Nightwing growled.

"Yes," Tim panted.

"By who?"

Tim froze. Too many people to list.

"Tim." That was Batman. "Is she the only person here?"

Tim nodded.

"And did you see anyone else? Any other captors?"

He frowned. Shook his head.

"Get him out of here."

He started to struggle.

Dick countered effortlessly.

"Wait--Batman--Nightwing, you have to tell him--"

Nightwing was looking between him and Batman and back. Even with the mask, his face was expressive. "Tim, what's going on? Batman?"

"Get him out of here. I'll get the woman."

"No! Batman, don't hurt her! CASSIE!" He jabbed at Nightwing. It was blocked, too easily.

"Bat--?"

"Stockholm. Get him out of here. Out of the city. Contact me later."

"I do not have Stockholm's!" Tim shouted, shoving against the Kevlar-shielded body that held him. "Nightwing, do something!"

"It's all right," Nightwing said, sounding oddly grim. "Let me get the cuffs off you--" wire cutters, not keys. Good enough. Tim bolted up when the links snapped. Nightwing grabbed him.

"It's all right," the man said again, bullying him toward the laundry room door. "Batman won't hurt her. I promise."

The door. Buzzing. "No--wait--" Tim pushed into Nightwing. Above, he heard a scream. Nightwing shoved him forward and opened the laundry room. "No!" Tim yelled, doing his best to claw himself up and over the man’s body.

"Hey, whoa, easy kid," Nightwing soothed, grabbing Tim's arms and pinning him again.

"Not in there--Dick--please--not in there--"

"Okay, all right, it's okay."

The ground left as Nightwing picked him up, carrying him toward the basement door, up the stairs, out the front. Tim got a glimpse of Batman tying someone.

"Don't hurt her--" he started again.

Then they were outside. Nightwing dumped him on the back of a motorcycle, slamming a helmet over his head.

"Nightwing, I can't just leave her--"

Nightwing grabbed him, swung on while still holding Tim, and started the bike. "You can. You will. You're coming with me, and I promise Batman won't hurt her."

"It's not like you think--" Tim started.

"That's fine. You can explain everything later. Hold on."

Tim grabbed the utility belt as Nightwing peeled away. He didn't have much choice. He twisted, looking back, but the house was quickly swallowed by trees. They hit a road, and Nightwing opened the engine up, roaring down the asphalt. Tim shifted his grip around the man's waist and held on.

**

By the time Dick stopped, Tim nearly fell off the bike. Trembling, shaking, half-sick, he started to slide and was caught by Nightwing swinging Tim up into his arms like a child.

Tim struggled half-heartedly.

"Relax, kiddo. You're fine. I've got you."

Tim let his body go limp, head cradled against Nightwing's chest. Too tired to feel embarrassed. He could feel the man's voice rumbling through his bones. "Oracle. This is Nightwing. Get Leslie to outpost five-niner-alpha."

They were moving.

"Tim? You with me, still?"

Tim opened his eyes, looked up into a swirling face, and closed them again.

"Shouldn't've made you ride the bike. Sorry about that. Didn't think about how weak--" he cut off. Tim ignored it. Dick had a tendency to babble when uncomfortable.

"Nightwing." The word was Dick's, sharp. Not talking to Tim, then. Answering the communicator. "Great, Oracle. Thanks."

Tim felt the world drop, and grabbed at Dick instinctively.

"It's okay. Lay down, huh? Leslie's on her way. She'll be here in a few minutes. We had her on standby in the area."

Tim stretched out on something cold and hard. He thought he should say something. Ask something. But he felt weak and shaky, like his arms were going to drop off at any minute. He slept.

Woke to Leslie's voice, soft but professional, and Dick answering questions in short bursts.

"How long was he there?"

"Five weeks."

"The people who held him?"

"One woman. That's all that we know of."

"Cassie," Tim mumbled. He opened his eyes. Realized he was curled on his side.

"Hey, Robin," Leslie murmured, shining light into his eyes. Tim pulled back, blinking. "I want you to rest, okay?"

That was easy. Then he remembered, and struggled up. "Wait--Cassie--Nightwing, Batman didn't--"

Nightwing's face looked tight. "Cassie's fine."

"Cassie?" Leslie asked.

"His captor."

"Tell me about Cassie, Tim," Leslie said. She was examining his splinted fingers. Carefully unwrapping them.

Tim cringed even before it started hurting. "Cassie was--she just wanted a friend."

"Did she do this?" Leslie looked from his fingers to him and back again.

"Careful," Tim muttered, and flinched.

"Sorry." She felt--very gently--along the bones. Tim realized he'd gone tense, and took a deep breath. Let it out again. Then she re-splinted and re-wrapped his fingers, just as carefully. "She did a good bandage job."

Tim nodded.

"You look tired."

"Haven't been sleeping well." He smiled lopsidedly. "Didn't expect a bike ride."

"There's a car here. We'll take it the rest of the way," Nightwing said.

Leslie was checking his ankle. "Why haven't you been sleeping well?"

"Bad dream--oh, shit." He struggled up into a sitting position. The room was dark; one of their warehouse bases. "Dick--the laundry room. There were bodies--"

Nightwing nodded. "We suspected as much from the smell. And the flies. And--we figured out that she'd kidnapped those other kids, so…Batman's checking it out. Don't worry."

"Lay down," Leslie said softly, pushing on his chest.

Slowly, Tim did.

"You've got a minor infection in your ankle. I'm going to give you some penicillin for it. I'm also going to give you some sleeping pills."

"I don't need--"

"I want you to sleep, Robin. Right now, I think that's probably what you need most of all. Let Nightwing worry about everything else. All right?"

(Sedatives in the food. Too much morphine. They just…kept sleeping…) "I don't need sleeping pills. Really. I'll sleep fine."

"I want to make sure."

Tim opened his mouth to argue further, but stopped when Nightwing crouched next to him. "It's okay. We're going to go back to my apartment. I'll be there the whole time, all right? Nothing to worry about. Nothing'll happen while you sleep. I promise. I'll be there."

"Come on, Robin," Leslie said quietly. She held out three pills. He sat up and held out his hand. Shaking. She poured them in. Left. Brought back water.

"I'm really not sure about this," Tim muttered. The pills sat, big and white in his palm.

"I know," Nightwing answered, one hand in Tim's hair, giving him a half-armed hug, pulling him tight against the broad chest. "Trust us, okay?" He smiled. "You look like some poor little refugee kid."

Tim shot him a dirty look. "Screw you."

"Not until you're better."

Tim glared at him again. Dick just grinned.

"Swallow," Leslie said.

Tim eyed the pills unhappily. His stomach turned. But he put all three tablets into his mouth, and chugged them down with as much water as he could.

"Good boy," Nightwing said.

"Arf," Tim muttered.

"Now, into the car--" Nightwing scooped him up again, and Tim grabbed hold around the man's neck.

"I can walk myself," he grumbled. "I was just weak getting off the bike."

"Yeah, well. I'm making up for five weeks of being unable to ruffle your hair. Let me carry you."

Tim couldn't really say he minded. If it was for Dick, he didn't have to be embarrassed. And it really was easier than walking.

Nightwing settled him into the car, buckled him in, even got him a blanket from the back. Then they were driving through the outskirts of the city, dark and familiar. Three minutes after that, Tim was asleep.

***********

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