anesthesia

Two months into Tim’s new foster placement with the Waynes, he wakes up feeling kind of lousy. His stomach started hurting sometime after dinner the night before, which he initially chalked up to the heaviness of Alfred’s chicken fettuccine; that man does not skimp on the heavy cream. It’s why he only ever makes it when Dick—the family’s resident lactose intolerant dumbass, as Jason so lovingly puts it—is confirmed to be staying in Bludhaven for the evening. (Not that it ever works. Dick’s been known to sniff out leftovers from the fridge days later like a bloodhound, consequences to his delicate digestive system be damned.) Anyway... --- Or, in which Tim gets Sick™, but actually reaches out for help for once, and in return his new family comes in clutch.

“Who are you?” Keith demanded, excitedly putting his free hand to his cheek. “What’s your name?” “Eat the cracker, Keith.” “Did god send you? Are you an angel?” Keith didn’t look very frightened as this concept of being dead worked its way out of him. Lance ran a hand through his own hair, smiling wryly. “Please, eat the cracker, Keith.” “What’s your name?” Keith’s voice cracked, desperately, excitedly. “Please. Who are you?” “My name is Lance,” Lance paused, nerves sitting uncomfortably in the bottom of his stomach– deep, in the part he never searched. He licked his lips and ran a hand through his unwashed hair. “I’m, um, I’m your fiancé.”

The reader's car breaks down and her boss, Dr. Novak, helps her and brings her back to his place. So many red flags were going off, however now, it's too late. The reader is in Dr. Novak's care.