Tim couldn't move. He was cold. He couldn't see anything more than the unfeeling white wall. The agony of his back was joined by the avalanche of sensation of the wings as Joker advanced in his progress.

Tim was going to die. He could feel it creeping closer and closer with each incision, with every stitch, with all the blood that dripped slowly down his back. He couldn't do anything but slip farther and farther into the void while Joker poked and prodded and sliced and stitched.

But he wouldn't die. Joker wouldn't let him. And that scared him. It was one thing to know that someone wanted you dead, but it was another thing entirely to know that someone wanted you to stay alive so you could continue to hurt. So you could be their plaything. So they could just keep tearing you apart.

Part of him was sure that it would be over soon and he could go home. Another part of him still held out hope for Bruce. But another voice told him that he wasn't going to make it out. Joker would keep inventing new procedures to complete before he could release his patient into the world.

"If only you could see how beautiful these look," he kept crooning. "You're going to be magnificent."

Pain shot sporadically through the wings. Tim didn't want to scream, but every time he held himself back so he wouldn't give Joker the pleasure of it, it just got worse. Even once he was hoarse, he had no choice but to show that he could feel the agony that Joker was inflicting.

Where was Bruce? Or Dick? They should have found him by now. He couldn't get out on his own. He couldn't move. He was cold. He needed them. Where was Bruce? Bruce was supposed to be there. Bruce was supposed to save him.

"Tim." The voice was gentle but firm. "Hey, Tim, wake up."

Tim jolted awake, looking around wildly. He instinctively moved to sit up, but he was pinned against the bed. His hands snapped to his chest, and he felt a strap holding him down. His arms were free. He wasn't on his stomach. He was still in the Batcave, laying on the weird bed designed to accommodate his condition. He wasn't chained to an operating table. He was warm and safe. Leaning over him with gentle concern written across his features was Dick.

"Hey, you're okay," he was saying. "You're okay, I'm here."

Tim realized he was panting and immediately slowed his breathing to a more controlled rate. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he agreed, hoping that he sounded believable.

Dick's expression told him he wasn't successful. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really. It isn't anything that I haven't had before." Tim hugged his arms to his chest and avoided his gaze.

"All right." Dick folded his arms, too. "Do you still want to call Ives?"

Tim lifted his head quickly. "What time is it?" he asked.

"You have an hour, don't worry," Dick reassured him. "I made sure you'd have time to get ready."

Tim sighed with relief. "Did you get the shirt? And the backdrop?"

"You could have waited another day and just called him from upstairs," Dick chuckled, handing Tim a t-shirt with a slice along the back.

"Trust me, I couldn't. I could barely get him to wait until today." Tim put his arms through the sleeves and tucked the cut edges behind his back.

Dick adjusted the shirt so it looked like he was actually wearing it. "It's great that you have a friend that cares so much about you," he said, clearly leading into something else.

Tim raised his eyebrow. "Don't get that tone," he said only half-jokingly. "I know civilian friends just make the whole identity thing harder, but don't you think I should be talking to people?"

"What about Kon and Bart-- Young Justice or whatever you call yourselves? They probably want to hear from you."

Tim made a face. "And let them know that Robin isn't invulnerable? Bruce would have my hide."

Dick frowned. "Do you really think that Bruce wouldn't let you talk to two of your best friends that know you as Robin because you got hurt? That's just-- really?"

"Dick."

"He's got issues, yeah, but he's not going to keep you from-- What?"

"I was joking."

"Oh."

xXx

Tiny chapter with no ending. Sue me. There was supposed to be more to it but I didn't write it six months ago so I'm not writing it now. Just pretend he had a nice conversation with some friends and he lied about this that and the other thing.