Special Challenge: Halloween

[things_change]

Note: Co-written with notafraidofyou. Set in the future, after Return of the Joker. Poooor Tim. :( This is not a happy Halloween.

Tim was in his room, staring out the window at the vaguely threatening statue of an archer in the garden outside. Alfred was just outside the door, on the phone. Tim could just hear him through the door, though he was trying not to listen. He knew they were talking about him. They tended to do that, when he got like this, just like they tended to keep someone within earshot. Just in case. Even though he hadn't had a fit in over a month.

He wished he could be normal again.

He heard the soft beep as Alfred hung up the cordless phone. He wondered idly who he'd been talking to. Probably Dr. Thompkins. She'd come, and want to talk, and then she'd offer him the sleeping pills that he hated almost as much as he loved, but would take anyway. They made him sleep so deeply that he didn't wake anyone up with screams from his nightmares, which persisted despite all of his therapy. But they made it so that he couldn't wake himself up, either, leaving him trapped in his dreams until they wore off enough for him to jerk himself awake.

Still. By then, everyone else was up, and there was no one to wake up with his screaming. So it was something.

He continued to stare out the window as he waited. She was taking longer than usual, but maybe the clinic was busy tonight. He let out a short laugh, and flinched, covering his mouth to stop himself before it could go on and on and turn... wrong. He needed to stop doing that. But it was Halloween. Of course the clinic would be busy.

There was a knock on the door, but before he could answer, it opened and Dick stuck his head in. "Hey, kiddo. Can I come in?"

Tim pulled his hands away from his face, grimacing slightly, and nodded. "Sure." No sleeping pills. He wasn't sure if he was glad or disappointed. He settled on glad. He liked when Dick stopped by. Dick didn't treat him like he was going to break.

Dick grinned and came in, shutting the door behind him. He crossed the room and flopped on the bed next to Tim. He pulled a candy bar from his pocket and held it out for him. "Happy Halloween."

Tim blinked and took the candy bar automatically. "Thanks. Shouldn't you be--" he waved a hand vaguely at his window.

Dick shrugged and pulled out another candy bar, ripping it open and taking a bite before answering. "Nah. It's under control."

He made a skeptical noise and opened his own candy bar. "I grew up here, you know. I remember what Halloween looks like."

"Bruce and Babs have it. Don't worry about it. I've got more important things to do."

"Babysit the psycho kid?" Tim asked, biting into the candy bar and chewing fiercely. "How did you pull the short straw?"

"Well, you're not psycho and there were no straws," Dick replied calmly. "I mean--hang out with my favorite little brother or be out in that mess? Come on, no contest."

"I'm your only little brother," Tim reminded him, sitting back a little against his headboard, and trying to push back the feeling of embarrassment. He shouldn't have taken out his temper on Dick. He really was psycho.

"Doesn't mean you're not my favorite," Dick said, grinning up at him. He took another bite of his candy bar and chewed before talking again. "How're you holding up?"

"I'm fine."

"Hmm." Dick finished off his candy bar, looking out the window. "Have there been a lot of trick-or-treaters? I always liked it when there weren't--more candy leftover."

Tim shuddered. "I--don't know. I've been up here most of the night." Since the first batch of kids. He shuddered again, seeing their happy, painted faces in his mind, and pressed his lips together to keep from crying--or laughing. He wasn't sure which would be worse.

Dick moved to sit next to Tim against the headboard. He didn't say anything at first, just bumping his shoulder against Tim's carefully. "I kind of figured," he said finally. "Been a rough month, huh?"

"...Yeah. A little," he admitted after a moment. No use denying it, really. He knew Alfred kept Dick updated on how he was doing, since Dick and Bruce weren't talking these days.

"Have you been sleeping?"

He shrugged a little and took a bite of candy bar to stall his answer. "Yeah... some. Not a lot."

"Hmm." Dick watched him quietly. "You know we could get you more sleeping pills if you wanted them, right?"

"I know." All he had to do was ask, but he never did. Love-hate relationship.

"Good." Dick stretched his arms and locked his hands behind his head. "You don't really like taking them, huh? I know I've never liked ‘em, but sometimes the sleep is worth it."

"Sometimes." Tim hesitated a moment, debating whether he should continue. But... maybe Dick had a better idea. "I can't wake up when I take them," he said finally. "Not even when I want to."

Dick looked at him thoughtfully. "Nightmares?"

"Yeah." Every time he fell asleep, which wasn't as often as he knew he should, but it was hard to want to try when he knew he was just going to wake up screaming.

Dick gave him a sad smile. "All the time? I thought they were getting better."

"They were." Until the costumes and masks and face paints and stupid Halloween crap on TV. Now he dreamed every night, instead of just most nights.

"Want to talk about it?"

Tim shrugged helplessly. He wasn't sure what to say. "I don't know. They're just--worse again."

"The same ones as before?"

"Variations on the same theme, yeah."

Dick gave a soft hum, and carefully draped his arm across Tim's shoulders, keeping the contact light enough that he could be easily shrugged off. "Why do you think they're worse again?"

Tim considered ducking out from underneath the arm, but didn't. He leaned against him a little instead. "I heard the doctor tell Bruce that the Halloween stuff might be a trigger for me."

Dick relaxed his arm around him and nodded slowly. "That makes sense. Do you think he's right?"

"I don't know. I guess. Probably." He hunched his shoulders a little, frowning at the bedspread and wishing he still had some candy bar left to keep him distracted. "I freaked out when the trick-or-treaters came."

Dick curled his hand over Tim's arm. "I'm sorry. Why did you freak out?"

Tim shifted uncomfortably. He could still see the faces, and feel that horrible urge to laugh his awful laugh that had made him run up the stairs to shut himself in his room before he fell apart, but... it sounded so stupid to him.

Dick waited patiently, rubbing his arm. When it was clear Tim wasn't going to say anything, he spoke up. "It's okay, you know. All of it. Freaking out, having nightmares. None of it's your fault."

"Everyone says that."

"But you don't believe it?"

"I should be better."

"You will be," Dick said firmly. "You are."

Tim shook his head sharply. "No. Dick--it was kids at the door. Happy, smiling kids in Halloween costumes. One of them was a clown, and--it was like I was there again. Just like I never had any therapy. And I had to laugh because if I'm not happy, Daddy gets mad, and that's when the pain comes--fuck." He hadn't meant to say so much. He gritted his teeth and pressed his lips together to keep from saying anything worse.

"Oh, Tim." Dick wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tightly. "It's okay. It's not your fault. No one's going to hurt you. I promise."

He took a breath and let it out to try to make himself calm down again, pressing his forehead against Dick's shoulder. "I know. I know that. I just--it's still there. All the garbage from what happened. It's not gone. It keeps coming back."

"I know," Dick said softly, rubbing small circles over Tim's back. "It hasn't been that long, Tim. You need to be patient. When Halloween's over, it'll get easier again."

"Until next year."

Dick shook his head. "No. It won't be as bad next year, kiddo. It's a whole year away--that's a lot of time, and a lot of therapy, and it'll be easier for you."

Tim made a skeptical noise into Dick's shoulder. "You can't know that."

Dick scoffed. "Hey, I'm the big brother. I know everything. It's in the job description."

Tim pulled back a slightly to give Dick a skeptical look. "Really."

"Mmhm." Dick nodded, looking entirely serious. "There's a manual. I can't show you, though. It's only for big brothers. It's a very elite club, you know. There's a secret handshake and everything."

"Secret handshake, huh?" Tim gave him a faint half-smile.

"Duh." Dick grinned, ruffling his hair. "I'd show you, but they'd kick me out."

"I don't think they can do that," Tim said, raising an eyebrow. "Would you suddenly become younger than me? Or would we not be brothers anymore?"

"I don't know. That would be strange, being the little brother--do you have a secret handshake?" He looked thoughtful, then made a face and shook his head. "But I would never risk the other option, so I guess we'll have to live in ignorance."

"Guess so, because I'm not going to risk it either." He glanced up at him. "We totally have a handshake. And a handbook. It's more like guidelines than rules, though. It's a lot more relaxed, being a little brother."

Dick grinned at him. "I guess that makes sense. Being a big brother is serious business. We have to be all wise and knowledge-imparting and stuff."

"'And stuff?'"

He nodded sagely. "Technical term. Stuff like making sure we make all kinds of mistakes and have embarrassing moments so you guys can learn from them. Also, using you as an excuse to watch cartoons."

Tim blew out a breath, frowning a little. He didn't watch cartoons anymore. "Glad to know you plan those things in advance," he said, focusing on the first part instead. "And I thought they were things that just happened."

"Pfft, of course not. Totally planned. I humiliate myself entirely for your benefit."

"Wow. You're so committed. You must be the president of the club by now."

"No, I think the president is the guy from that family with like nineteen kids."

Tim let out a short laugh, then winced slightly, squeezing his eyes shut.

Dick didn't say anything, just silently tightened his hold on Tim and leaned his head against his. "Hey, how would you feel about coming to Blüdhaven for a few days?"

"I'd like that." He relaxed slightly against him. "Alfred could probably use the break."

"I don't know about that. Alfred likes having you around, you know. But I could use the company."

Tim pressed his forehead against Dick's shoulder. "Me too." Alfred was great, but... he wasn't a brother.

Dick rubbed small circles over Tim's back. "Do you want to stay here tonight and head over in the morning, or do you want to head over now?"

"You just got here."

Dick made a scoffing noise. "So? I came to hang out with my little brother. We don't have to do that here. Besides, when have you ever known me to complain about taking my bike out?"

"Never." He glanced up at him. "You really don't mind if we leave?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. We can crash in front of bad action movies and eat Lucky Charms for lunch."

"Okay." Tim tightened his arms around him a little in a quick hug, before pulling away. "We should tell Alfred we're going."

"You go ahead and pack some stuff, and I'll go tell him, how's that?"

He nodded and pushed himself off the bed to go grab some clothes. Pausing, he glanced back at Dick with a smile he couldn't seem to force onto his face. "Thanks."

Dick smiled back at him. "You're welcome, little brother."

Muses: Dick Grayson/Nightwing and Tim Drake/Robin II
Fandom: DC Animated Universe
Word count: 2,039
Disclaimer: Dick Grayson and Tim Drake are the property of DC comics and Warner Brothers Entertainment. No infringement intended.