Tim stares at the still smoking gun in his brother's hand. "What did you do?" He glances down at the pool of blood forming around the head of dark hair, and he falls to his knees as the words tumble out of his mouth again. "What did you do?"
The boy looks so broken, and when he speaks, his voice is strained in a way that Tim's never heard it before. "You don't understand."
He's right, of course. Tim doesn't understand...doesn't understand anything anymore, because his world is falling apart around him, and he doesn't think that it's ever going to be okay again.. Not this time. "What did you do?" Tim can't seem to make any other words come out of his mouth-not while he's staring at those lifeless blue eyes.
"They...they..." The boy whom he used to hate...the boy whom he wants nothing more than to hate now is stuttering, and there are tears falling from his eyes. "They shattered all of the bones in his hands, destroyed both of his knees...his shoulders...they...his shoulders..." Damian trails off for a moment. "They made it so he would never fly again, and he begged me, Tim...begged me to do it."
Tim glances from Dick's lifeless body, laying on the ground, to Damian's tear streaked face. Wordlessly he holds out his arms, and immediately the boy rushes to him, and latches onto him. Tim wraps his arms around Damian tightly, and just stares vacantly down at the boy's head. He wants so much to hate him as he used to...wants to feel repulsion towards the one who took his oldest brother away from him...wants to fight him. But Tim can't. He knew what had happened to Dick...knew there was no way he'd ever fly again, and, more than anything, Tim knew that it would destroy him...he just didn't know how far Dick would go. Tim wants to be angry. He wants to lash out, and hurt someone, but he can't, because he doesn't feel anything-not anymore-no matter how much he may want to.
Damian is shaking in his arms, crying profusely, with no end in sight. Tim instinctively holds him more tightly, but that's just because he learned it from Dick. Dick, whom he'll never see again, who will never smile again, who will never hug another person again. Tim barely even registers it when the first of his tears begin to fall from his eyes. He's sucking in air as fast and as deep as he can, trying to stem the wailing cry that wants to escape his throat. He honestly can't even imagine trying to control his breathing right now. It's just not an option. He strengthens his hold on Damian and begins to rock, although Tim isn't sure for whose benefit.
Damian's arms are wrapped around him in a vise-like grip, and Tim is pretty sure that he has no intention of letting go, which is fine-because he doesn't think he can school his expression into anything that doesn't resemble losing his entire world right now. Stupidly, Tim glances back towards Dick's lifeless form, and suddenly Tim can't make himself breathe. He's choking on sobs, and can't get enough air. He's fairly certain that he'd rather be unconscious anyway, and if a lack of oxygen can give him that, Tim sees no reason to fight it...well, no reason except for that fact that someone needs to take care of Damian. That thought makes Tim suck in a large deep breath. He lets it out slowly, shuddering through his exhale.
Damian's face is buried in Tim's chest, and his hands are clenched so tightly around Tim's shirt that Tim is pretty sure that if he tried to move him, Damian would just take the shirt with him. The thought almost makes a bubble of hysterical laughter burst from Tim's lips, but he pushes it down. Tim recognizes this portion of his grief well. It's when there's nothing left but the hysteria of him losing everything that's important to him. He doesn't think that it's going to go away this time-doesn't know how it ever could. He isn't sure how he's expected to survive losing his brother, and if Tim is forcing himself to ignore the fact that he lost his brother at the hands of his other brother so be it.
Tim can't imagine getting up off the floor. Everything is just weighing on him too heavily. The mere thought of moving makes him feel as though he's going to break, and there's no way he can just leave his brother's body here, alone in the dark, but, at the same time, Tim wants nothing more than to get away-to run and hide and seclude himself from the rest of the world. The pain is too great. He's lost the only person who could ever keep them all together, the light in the dark, the one person who could make it all seem okay, and Tim doesn't think any of them will ever fly again.