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Tim ducked underneath the wooden bat that the goon swung at him. The displacement of air over his head was so harsh that Tim could feel his hair moving. He skidded backwards to avoid the goon, eyes darting around for where his bo-staff had been cast off too.
He couldn’t use his recall if he didn’t know where it was. Tim needed to aim his wrist computer in the direction of the staff, so if he didn’t know where it was, the recall wouldn’t work. Based on how surrounded he was, he really needed his bo-staff back. Tim wasn’t proficient enough in hand-to-hand to get himself out of this level of cornering.
A goon with a metal pipe swung his weapon wildly. Tim dodged it just barely, but that threw him into the path of rapid footsteps running somewhere behind him.
Tim twisted to the side just before the next goon could land a solid hit on him. The knife clipped Tim’s side. Unluckily, it was enough slice into him. Luckily, it was not enough to gut him like the goon probably planned.
He swept his legs out quickly, hitting the guy’s shins and getting him off balanced. Tim ignored the burning in his side from his new wound. He had too many to think about anyway. Tim took that opportunity to retaliate against the goon. His knuckles cracked against the guy’s jaw.
At least Tim could still throw a punch.
Next, a goon with a fucking crowbar took the opportunity of Tim’s turned back to crack it against the exposed area. The bat goon couldn’t be left out, no. He also crashed his own weapon down onto Tim. That was enough to make Tim freeze on his feet.
Freezing during a fight was the worst thing that a vigilante could do.
Two more goons in this free for all—both with metal pipes—also took the opening to crash their weapons into the bumbling Robin. One hit his injured side, while the other landed on his hip.
Tim couldn’t help the choked sound at the consecutive hits. He lost his balance, stumbling to the side heavily. He managed to keep on his feet—barely. The goon with the knife sliced out with it again. Tim had no choice but to duck into a roll to get out of its path.
That wasn’t that good of an idea. The roll made Tim crash against his injured side, spreading the wound and encouraging blood flow. Once he had rolled far enough away, Tim grabbed onto his side to try to staunch the bleeding. He was still on the ground—propped up with his injured side down, but still vulnerable. He started moving his legs to get himself up to standing again.
“Little birdie’s wings are clipped, eh?” The goon with the knife cackled. With a quick step forward, he pressed his foot down onto Tim’s exposed, uninjured side. The unexpected weight sent Tim sprawling, then pinned him to the ground.
Tim didn’t even think about the heavy pressure. All he could do was grit his teeth against the sound of their laughter.
“Just a few more hits and he’ll be out for the count.” The wooden bat goon agreed. He stepped forward as well, using his own foot to stand on Tim’s ankle. The two others sporting metal pipes crowded around with him.
The crowbar goon giggled and bumped his shoulder against his buddy’s with the bat. “Who gets the knock out? Or better yet…”
“Just kick him,” The fifth goon—the one that didn’t have a weapon—pipped up. He stayed behind, letting his three friends take the lead. “We don’t need his life on our hands. You all saw what happened to Joker, didn’t you?”
All five of them converged on the downed Robin. Tim put his hands over his head as the bat, crowbar, and metal pipes were joined with kick after kick against Tim’s body. His body armor helped protect him from broken bones, but a hard hit was a hard hit. As each one bloomed new bruises, Tim could only be thankful that the knife wasn’t in play.
Tim wished he had never lost sight of his bo-staff. There was so many attacks coming from all directions that Tim could do little else than protect his most vital parts.
He wondered if this was anything at all what Jason had felt like.
As Tim was trying and failing to get his feet underneath him, his eyes drifted down to the ground. There, right underneath the fifth goon’s feet, lay his bo-staff.
Tim quickly tapped against his wrist computer and angled it toward the bo-staff. It started vibrating against the ground. Tim shot his hand out quickly, getting kicked for his efforts. It didn’t matter. The bo-staff blessedly slid forward into Tim’s awaiting hand.
Once it was in his grip, he wasted no time flinging the staff upward to catch the closest goon under the chin. With Tim’s weapon back, he at least had a fighting chance.
The fight turned back into a flurry of dodges, blocks, and return hits. Tim was fading fast, though, and didn’t know how long his surge of adrenaline from getting his weapon back would last. He was already so injured that he really did need to either end this soon, or escape some how.
Then a gunshot sounded through the night.
Tim looked around wildly to see who had entered the fight. He hadn’t seen anyone with a gun, so who could have fired the shot? He took a step forward—
Then crumpled down back to the ground. He looked down at his body to see the blood slowly leaking from a bullet wound in his side. Once he was aware of it, the sudden surge of pain vibrating up from his side stalled all of Tim’s thoughts.
“Now look what you all made me—” the fifth goon started, but couldn’t get very far, because a second gunshot rang out into the night.
Tim watched as the man crumpled down to the ground, right on top of where his brains were splattered on the pavement.
Even if Tim wasn’t actively bleeding out, he knew his face would become pale. Not many people would interfere with a fight against one of Gotham’s vigilantes. Even the cops wouldn’t go for a head shot.
There was only one person it could be. Tim’s hypothesis was proven correct when out of the darkness stalked the Red Hood.
“No hurting kids,” Red Hood’s modulated voice growled from behind his helmet. Tim weakly turned his head to face the man. “I thought I made that clear.”
Tim had no idea He had his gun out and pointed at the remaining four goons, who were standing stock still. Several of them stared at their leader, who’s dead hand was still weakly clutched around the gun. “Don’t look at him. Look at me.”
The goons turned their attention toward the Red Hood completely. Tim blinked sluggishly. He thought back to Hood’s opening sentence, a bit confused. Tim was unsure he’d count as a kid, considering their first meeting.
Then again, Jason hadn’t killed Tim then. Maybe it wasn’t so out of left field that he would keep Tim from dying now.
Tim closed his eyes and let the sounds of the resulting fight wash over him. He hurt in a multitude of different ways, and the warm blood leaking out of him was making him feel cold.
Wouldn’t it be okay to close his eyes, just for a little bit? That would be fine. Jason was here, anyway. He’d either kill these guys to make sure they wouldn’t hurt Tim, or either do something as punishing.
Tim didn’t mind. Bruce would have, and maybe Dick too, but this was Jason saving Tim’s life. If killing for him meant that Jason would team up with Tim—keep the Robin alive—then he could be alright with that.
“Tim.” Jason’s voice said, closer and clearer. Just by his name, Tim understood that the goons were dead. Jason wouldn’t have used Tim’s name if he wasn’t certain that no one would be able to hear him.
Tim responded with a grunt. Even that sound made the pain on his abdomen flare. His hands were getting weaker by the second, bloodied fingers becoming less and less able to keep his wound closed.
“Tim. Open your eyes,” Jason ordered. There was blinding pressure on his abdomen, his own hands being pressed harder onto the wound. “Robin.”
Tim opened his eyes. What little he could see of Jason’s face was worried, which was confusing. Didn’t this man beat almost choke him out?
“Jas’n.” Tim slurred out. He blinked, then groaned as the pressure got harder.
“Where’s the bullet?” Jason asked. He almost sounded worried. “Have you called for help yet?”
“In’ide.” Tim responded first, then shook his head for the rest. His comm had fallen out at some point during the fight. He lifted his free arm to point to the general direction where he last saw it. “Comms… somew’ere there.”
Jason swore. He ordered Tim to keep pressure on his wound, then lifted his hands away. Tim tried his best to keep the order. His blood felt sappy in between his own fingers, but Tim kept them over his wound.
He wasn’t alone for long. Jason came back soon enough. This time when he spoke, he clearly wasn’t talking to Tim. He did, however, also press his hands back down onto Tim’s abdomen.
“I said, your Robin is down and needs evac. It doesn’t matter who I am,” Jason said as if he had already said those words. Tim leaned his head to the side just far enough that it landed on Jason’s arm. Jason made no move to make Tim stop, so he rested his forehead more heavily there. Jason was warm. Tim was cold. It seemed simple. “We’re on North Block and Iverson Street.”
Tim made a little wining sound at that. Their team up had been going so well so far. Jason saved Tim’s ass, and neither of them had died yet. Wasn’t that good enough to call this a success?
“Shh, Robin,” Jason said. Tim had the distinct feeling he would have been getting some comfort if both of Jason’s hands weren’t keeping Tim’s insides inside him. “He’s got a GSW to the abdomen, no exit wound.”
While Jason went quiet for the response Tim couldn’t hear, Tim leaned his head even harder against Jason. If Tim couldn’t get hair pets, he’d manufacture his own. He rubbed against the bare skin, enjoying the feeling of his hair being pushed around. Jason, surprisingly, moved his arm a bit to help facilitate the movement.
“No, of course I won’t be here when you get here. You’ll just arrest me,” Jason said after he got his response. He waited again. Tim watched what little of Jason’s expression he could see flicker. “I killed his attackers. Isn’t that murder?”
Jason was quiet for a much longer period of time, this time. When he did speak again, it wasn’t anything besides a small ‘oh.’
“‘M gonna sleep now.” Tim said after several moments of silence. That kicked Jason back into gear again.
“You can’t die on me, Robin.” Jason started spouting. He took a moment to yell into the comm, then very obviously turned back to Tim. “I won’t allow it, alright? You need to stay alive. I didn’t do all of this so you could bleed out. You can’t loose consciousness on me.”
Tim wasn’t really listening. All he could really process from it was that Jason seemed worried, and didn’t want Tim to go to sleep.
It was okay. Their team up went well, and hopefully Jason would be up for doing it again. The bad guys were gone, and there was nothing else for Tim to do. So, he let his eyes slip closed again.
The last thing he was aware of was Jason very clearly whispering, “You can’t die on me, Timmy.”
Tim closed his eyes anyway. When he opened them again, he was much, much warmer than when he first closed them. He felt the disoriented, floating feeling he always did when strong pain killers were involved.
Eventually, he dragged his eyes open to find the ceiling of the medbay in the cave. It wasn’t really surprising. What was more surprising was the pretense of someone else in his cot.
Alfred didn’t particularly condone cuddling in the cot when someone was injured. He would put up with it with the less serious injuries, but the larger ones he usually put his foot down and forced the prioritization of healing. The fact that someone large and warm was there, laying next to him, was either very good or really really bad.
Tim looked over at the man laying next to him. He had to blink several times to make sure what he was seeing was real.
Jason was curled up next to him on the cot. Even in his wildest imaginations, Tim never allowed himself to think of what it would be like to have Jason in the position that Dick usually occupied. He felt it would have been jinxing it if he truly imagined what it would be like to have the man as an older brother.
Yet here Jason was, arm curled around Tim’s shoulder, protecting him even in the safety of the cave. Well, protecting might’ve been a strong word, considering Jason’s lax face and closed eyes.
Tim shifted a bit, hoping to ignite the pain that likely would be wound up tight along his body. That would tell him if this was real, right? Unfortunately, the pain medication in his system prevented him from feeling much.
Belatedly, Tim realized that his hand was tight around Jason’s arm. His shifting, therefore, woke Jason up. Jason, quite hilariously, snorted a bit upon waking. He also tightened his arm around Tim, then started looking around frantically.
“What?” Jason asked to no one, still looking for what had woken him.
“Jason?” Tim responded, still a little dazed. Maybe this floating feeling from the pain meds was actually just how dreams felt. That seemed plausible. “Didn’ you like… say you wouldn’ be here anymore?”
Jason’s face twisted. “That was before.” He said vaguely. Jason leaned down and pressed his lips to Tim’s forehead.
Tim decided he didn’t really care why Jason decided to come back with him to the cave. He decided to be Tim’s heater, comforting him after saving him. Tim didn’t really care what had changed in Jason’s mind. If he was going to be like Tim’s brother, he was going to treat him like one in turn.
“Okay,” Tim mumbled. He hunkered down a bit, getting himself more comfortable against Jason’s side. Tim placed his head on Jason’s chest, admiring the comfort of his new pillow. Jason spluttered a bit, but adjusted himself according to Tim’s whims. “I can sleep again, right?”
Jason laughed lowly. The vibration of it felt different than how Dick’s felt under Tim’s ear, but he liked it just the same.
“You can sleep, Timmy.” Jason mumbled. Tim closed his eyes and went boneless against Jason’s chest.
Everything would be okay. They were home, and Tim was sleepy from the pain meds. Questions and explanations could come later. Right now, right now Tim was just happy to cuddle his brother.