Window Sills

Chapter Nineteen

Crash.
Something crashed on the floor, something fragile, a vase maybe. Tim's eyes shot open, because God knows that boy never really is asleep. (A/N: someone please limit the amount of coffee he drinks jeez) Followed by the crash was a loud thump. Alfred was asleep downstairs, and this was definitely on the same floor as Tim, and Bruce was on night patrol. It must have been Dick, who would have been on night patrol as well if Bruce hadn't told him to stay home. More thumping. Tim decided he at least checked out Dick's room. Stopping in front of the door, he could hear, slightly, the sound of Dick whimpering.
"No, no, no please...I can't, I can't.." Dick said, loud enough for Tim to hear but still quiet enough to let Tim know he was still asleep. More thumping.
"Dick?" Tim said, not really excepting an answer. Tim slowly opened the door, which for once wasn't locked, luckily. Tim was greeted with the sight of his older brother thrashing on the ground, twisted up in his sheets half on the bed. The glass vase next to his bed had been knocked over with glass everywhere, including tiny pieces up and down Dick's arm. They only slightly broke the skin, but enough to make him bleed. His faces was dripping with sweat. Tim knelt down to try and wake Dick up, but he kept mumbling, a bit louder now. "Wally, Wally please...no. No." Wally? Was that what his dream was about? Tim shook him, but he was a lot bigger than Tim and thrashed even more. Tim finally resulted in slapping him, leaving a red mark. Dick's eyes popped open, and his breath quickened.
"Dick? Dick it's me! Calm down." Tim reassured him.
"Tim? I-" he winced at his arm.
"Hold on," Tim got up to the bathroom and brought out bandages. Carefully picking out the glass, he wrapped gauze around his arm. "What.." Tim trailed off when he realized Dick was crying. Sobbing actually. Dick almost never cried. "What's wrong?"
"Tim, Tim it's too much. I can't...I can't..." His sobs racked his body making it hard to form words. Tim moved closer.
"You were screaming for Wally." Tim hadn't actually mentioned Wally for real except for when they were at the hospital and Dick told him about hearing voices. Dick composed him self a bit.
"I keep...I keep having these dreams. Wally....and Jason...everyone I've ever hurt...and they just scream at me...nasty things. Things I didn't even know someone would say. And I can't take it anymore." He started crying a bit more. Tim hadn't been in this kind of situation before. But he knew what was prompting these dreams.
"Dick...have you actually realized Wally is dead?" Tim asked carefully, not to trigger him at all.
"What? What do you mean?"
"I mean...he's not just missing. He's dead. I think your brain is fighting the fact he's dead." Dick wiped his eyes on the sheet next to him. He was silent for awhile.
"In my heart...I know he's gone. But I can't...I can't just get over it." He looked at the clock on the wall. 3:38. "I don't want to get over it." He licked his lips. Tim watched as he tightened his grip on the sheet and his body shook more. In one fast motion, Tim wrapped his arms around his brothers neck. Dick buried his face in Tim's next. "He's dead...he's dead. Why...why did he do that?" Dick asked, kind of rocking.
"I don't...I don't know." Tim said back to him. The stayed like that on the floor for about a half hour.
"Timmy?" Dick asked finally.
"Yeah?"
"Tell anyone about this, and you'll be making me cookies everyday for the next year." Dick said, smiling a bit, still hugging Tim. Tim chucked.
"Okay, deal."