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If I was dying on my knees
You would be the one to rescue me
And if you were drowned at sea
I would give you my lungs so you could breathe
Pain.
It pierced through Tim, white hot, as he took a stuttering breath. Pulsed through his shoulders and arms wrenched behind him. Stabbed through his leg and head. Dried blood pulled at the skin under his nose and lips. Dammit. Whoever jumped him in the alley got him good.
With a soft groan, he slowly opened his eyes. Where was he? Beyond his cracked lenses was a dark room, weak light coming from a window in a door.
Swallowing a hiss, Tim slowly pulled his legs to his chest, slipping his arms out from behind his back. Freeing his hands was a breeze afterwards and he slowly climbed to his feet. Agony blazed through his left knee as it buckled under his full weight but half didn’t seem too bad. No running happening tonight but at least he could manage a fast limp.
His attackers took his utility belt but Tim still managed to force the lock open. Rusty old doors were no match for brute force. The halls were dark and quiet as Tim limped down them. So far this was a routine capture and escape. One he’d done plenty of times. So why did he not know what his next steps were? Which way was out? Up? Should he go up? Why couldn’t he think straight?
A door slammed open behind him and Tim spun to see a looming man in the doorway with a furious face. “Hey! The cape escaped!”
Run. Every fiber of his being screamed the word but Tim could barely manage to walk. His weapons were gone, his mind was gone, and for the first time in a while, Robin might really be trapped with no way out.
But that didn’t stop him from trying. From pushing himself as much as he could, bouncing off the walls as he stumbled around corners. They caught up to him in no time. A punch took down one attacker but something hit his back and Tim went down. Boots quickly surrounded him with dull thuds. Tim clenched his teeth, nostrils flaring. Now would be a very good time for Batman or Nightwing to come crashing in. Anyone really, he wasn't picky. Or for a brilliant plan to come bursting into his mind. Maybe he could even talk his way–
A taser stabbed into Tim’s aching ribs. Electricity coursed through him as he screamed, arching and writhing on the concrete. When it stopped he went limp, panting as low laughter surrounded him. This was more than a normal taser. He’d felt a normal taser before and with his suit’s insulation it shouldn't hurt this much.
So maybe this would also be a good time to pass out.
The taser jammed into his ribs again, more pain crackling through him as he screamed through clenched teeth.
Yeah, passing out sounded very good.
–--
“Spare me the lecture, Goldie.” Jason rolled his eyes as he yanked open his window and climbed in. The loft was converted from an old factory but was still too industrial to be considered an intentional decorating choice.
Nightwing followed him in from the fire escape, standing tersely by the window as Jason pulled off his helmet. “No lecture. Robin’s missing. He hasn’t reported in and his tracker is offline.”
“Damn, that’s crazy.” Jason muttered sarcastically. Holsters came off next, followed by his jacket. “But what’s that got to do with me?” He glanced over his shoulder to see a muscle twitching in Nightwing’s jaw. “Wait, you really thought he was here?” When Dick didn’t reply, Jason couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh my god, you did! Are you mental?”
“I thought he might have stopped by. The last time the two of you spoke–”
“I don’t think I’d call a shouting match speaking.” Rolling up his right sleeve, Jason sat heavily at his rickety table. A first aid kit was already waiting and he dug out gauze and disinfectant. He needed to deal with this shallow but persistently bleeding gash. “You were there. You chased me out of the cave. Or have you forgotten already?”
“I didn’t chase you out. I told you to stop screaming at a sixteen year old who's done nothing to you.” Dick let out an annoyed sigh and flipped his lenses up. “Jesus, Jay, I thought the two of you were finally getting along! Don’t be like this. Not right now.”
“Like what, Dick?” Jason emphasized his brother’s name and got a glare in return. “My replacement isn’t here, he didn’t stop by to hash things out, and I haven’t hunted him down for revenge.”
“I never said–”
“You didn’t have to.” Jason slammed the disinfectant bottle down. It was his turn to glare. “Why are you still here instead of scouring the city for your precious little bird?”
Dick didn’t move for a long minute, staring Jason down. At last he flipped his domino lenses down. “Will you let me know if you see him?”
Jason let out a loud, exasperated sigh as Nightwing climbed out the window. “Fuck off.”
---
“You wish I was still dead, don’t you, Pretender?” Lips twisted in a snarl, Jason advanced on the boy. “Was it more fun to act like I didn’t exist? To take over my life?”
Tim glared back at him, bo staff clenched in his hands and feet planted in a fighting stance. “It was certainly quieter.” He snapped.
“I’ll bury you alive, you piece of shit!”
---
Wispy clouds covered the moon tonight. And even though Jason couldn’t feel the wind because of his helmet, he tilted his face up anyway. Damn you, Dick Grayson. Until last night, he’d been doing a good job forgetting about his argument with Tim.
But now memories of their shouts echoing off of stone played on repeat, images of Tim trying to hide his hurt with angry glares, the force of Dick’s fury as he shoved Jason away and stepped between them.
Sure, sometimes Jason got along with them. Dick was Dick and Tim was surprisingly–and delightfully– snarky. But one of them, usually Bruce, would without fail do or say something and Jason would get angry all over again, lashing out indiscriminately. It was a pattern. An exhausting one.
But the regret, lingering on what he’d said out of hurt…that was new. And he wasn’t in the mood to figure out why. Not when he couldn’t care less about Tim Drake.
Jason shifted on the building ledge, peering down at the warehouse below him. It was more discreet than the larger warehouses down by the docks, just a plain concrete building with a metal, rolling door and faded logo of a pig in a chef’s hat. Once it housed a local meat packing business and deli. Now, according to chatter on the streets, a gang was supposedly moving people through it.
Unfortunately, they were in the Red Hood’s territory. And the Red Hood didn’t tolerate trafficking of any kind.
Jason rappelled silently onto the roof, moving stealthily along until he reached a vent. A tight fit but he didn’t need to crawl through ducts for too long, just enough to drop in and get an idea of what he was dealing with. Not much activity outside or inside meant no major shipments tonight. So far his intel was good.
Actually, it was very good because everything matched the blueprints he’d memorized. Jason slipped through a folding gate into another section of the building and drew his guns. All that was left was the sprawling meat processing room. Once he scoped out the ceiling, saw what his hiding options were and maybe dropped a bug or two he could really plan his assault. Catching them all at once in one spot would be ideal but he could handle stragglers too. Jason eased the door open, letting his night vision adjust. If he could manage to get up there before–
Wait. There was someone in here, hanging from the leftover rusty meat hooks lining the room. Jason took a few more steps and froze, breath echoing in his helmet.
Tim.
Tim was dangling from a hook, arms wrenched over his limp head. He didn’t react as Jason crept over to him which was the first sign that something was very wrong. The second was the brutal state he was in. Dried blood streaked down his face, tear tracks cutting through. More blood stained his suit, almost obscuring burn marks on the armor and slices on his bare biceps that screamed of torture.
“Dammit.” Jason muttered, automatically holstering his guns before freezing. What was he doing? If Robin was being held here that meant there must be guards around. Guards Jason was trying very hard to avoid tonight.
Plus he didn’t even like Tim. He was a pain in the ass, rich kid who acted like he was better than Jason, that he was the better Robin. He replaced Jason without a second thought.
Yet Jason found himself reaching for Tim’s face anyway, carefully lifting it up. “Can you hear me Robin?” No response. “Kid?” And he wasn’t proud of it, but Jason pressed lightly on Tim’s broken nose.
With a small moan, Tim’s eyes fluttered open. He stared dazed at Jason, not reacting. Suddenly he jerked back, chains jingling. “Don’t touch me!” He rasped.
Jason held up his hands. “Whoa, relax! I’m not your enemy tonight.”
Under broken glass, Tim’s eyes widened. “Hood?” His voice was hoarse, no doubt raw from screaming. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to mind my own business.” Reaching up, he started unchaining Tim’s hands from the rusty hook. “You’re in the way, like usual. But this time–” The last chain came undone, “–you owe me a favor.”
Maybe it was on Jason for expecting Tim to stay standing in this state. Most of the time Tim was a tough cookie. But now he dropped like a bag of bricks before Jason could even think to reach for him.
A loud thud reverberated through the room as Tim crumpled to the floor. “Be quiet!” Jason snapped. Tim only winced, cheek pressed to the stained floor, not moving. “Do you want to get caught again?”
Distant noises caught Jason’s ear. Hell, this was not part of the plan. It was time to leave. Hand hovering over his gun, Jason stepped back to peer through the door’s small window. He’d take out the guards, making that two favors Tim owed him, and then go. Not the clean in and out he wanted but not horrible. If nothing else it would be a warning message to–
Something seized his ankle. It was Tim, grabbing his boot like his life depended on it. Which…it kind of did.
“Please.” Tim croaked. “Please don’t leave me, Jason. I know you hate me but please I can’t–” His voice rose to an almost frantic pitch. Jason dropped to his knees, clamping a hand over Tim’s mouth.
“Shut. Up.” He hissed. Tim blinked up at him with watery eyes. Like he did in the cave when Jason turned on him with sudden venom. It made his stomach twist.
No.
No.
This was Batman and Nightwing’s problem, not his! Tim wasn’t his brother, wasn’t his family.
“Please,” Tim pleaded again, voice muffled under Jason’s glove. Fresh tears rewet the dried blood. “I can’t fight like this. They’ll kill me. Please, help me. ”
It wasn’t hard to hear his own pleas in Tim’s words, see himself bloodied and broken, fighting to live. But no one came for Jason. And at least he’d leave Tim in a better state than he’d been left in.
“If you don’t shut up right now, we’ll both be dead.” Pulling silencers from his belt, Jason quickly screwed them on. Bloody fingerprints stained the smooth metal. Tim’s blood. “I’m going up to the ceiling. Stay down if you don’t want a gunshot added to your collection of injuries.”
Shaking off Tim’s clinging hands, he grappled up to the metal support beams. Just as he settled in, guns ready, the doors flew open.
“Looks like the birdie is trying to fly the coop again!” A man yelled, leading a group of six in. Their insignia marked them as the traffickers Jason had been looking for. “Didn't you learn your lesson the first time? Or did one of your buddies abandon you halfway through a rescue?”
Holy shit, Tim tried to escape before. No wonder he was in such bad condition. On the floor, Tim didn’t budge or make a sound. But Jason could see his breathing pick up as the men neared. Just a few more steps. So close. “We’ll find and tortue them too, don’t worry. You won’t be screaming alone anymore.”
They were halfway across the room and right in range. Jason snapped his arms up and fired. All six men collapsed in quick succession, blood pooling.
“See?” He said, dropping back down. Tim was slowly sitting up, doing a poor job of hiding his noises of pain. And for once not bitching Jason out for killing. “No need for all the hysterics. Now–”
Metal clattered as Jason’s boot collided with a crowbar, lying beside a growing pool of blood. Barbed wire was wrapped tight around it with tufts of green, red, and yellow snagged on the barbs. His blood ran cold when he realized where it’d come from.
Fuck, he couldn’t leave him here.
It was as if the universe itself was scolding Jason for even thinking about it. As angry as Bruce made him, as much as it hurt to see Tim wearing those colors, Dick calling him by that name…Jason couldn’t leave him. Because despite his best efforts, some part of him cared about what happened to Tim. Despite his cruel words, Jason couldn’t let this kid end up in a coffin because of him.
“–let’s get moving before more show up.” Jason continued, clearing his throat. “I’m not leaving you.” Tim’s face lit up as he audibly swallowed a sob of relief.
Trying to be mindful of Tim’s visible injuries, Jason wrapped an arm around his waist. “Bite down on something, don’t need you making noise and bringing another round of guards.” Tim clung to him with a trembling arm, biting down on his other hand as Jason fired his grapple at a skylight. “Going up.”
A single grunt at takeoff was the only noise Tim made until they landed on the fire escape of Jason’s safehouse. It’d be a lie to say Jason wasn’t impressed. Only once they were inside did Tim let out a strangled gasp, audibly panting. To his credit he managed to stay vertical as Jason climbed through the window, calling Dick on his comm while he snatched up the box of medical supplies. When Tim’s legs gave out this time, Jason caught him.
“Almost there.” He urged, practically dragging Tim to the sectioned off bedroom area. It was a good thing the bed was only a cheap mattress on some wood pallets. No way was all of this blood washing out of it.
“I know this hurts but don’t pass out on me yet.” Jason set him down as gently as he could. “Stay awake until I know what’s wrong with you. Got it?” Tim nodded weakly. He reached for his mask but Jason stopped him. “Whoa, stay down. Let your shoulders rest, you were hanging on your arms for hours. Can’t believe they’re not dislocated.” He peeled Tim’s mask off for him, wincing at how the adhesive stuck to Tim’s bruised skin.
“Thank you.” Tim said. “For not leaving me.”
Jason merely grunted as he flashed a penlight in Tim’s eyes. Pupils reacted normally, no concussion, the lucky bastard. “You owe me.”
He meant for this to be mechanical. A speedy impersonal assessment and treatment of anything major. But unstrapping Tim’s gauntlets revealed dark bruising around his wrists. And Jason’s mind went immediately to imagining how much it must’ve hurt to hang from chains for so long. How there was a good chance Tim’s wrists were at least fractured.
How Jason didn’t look for him and hadn’t planned to.
“And gladly.” Tim said, not noticing Jason’s hesitation. “Jason, I–” He ground his teeth in pain as his gauntlets and gloves came off, “I never wanted to replace you. I only wanted to help Bruce and Gotham…and honor you. Your legacy.”
His legacy. Jason’s legacy was strung up in a glass case, waiting for a vengeance Bruce would never give. What a joke. “And you were almost beaten to death. Great job following in my footsteps. I admire the commitment.” He started removing Tim’s boots and leg armor as gently as he could but still the kid stifled a cry when Jason moved his hurt leg.
“Robin helped people.” Tim insisted in a shaky voice as Jason carefully prodded his leg, searching for the source of his pain. “Saved people. Made the city better. You did that. And I…when I put on the mask I wanted to be like you. I’m glad you’re not dead.”
What the absolute hell was wrong with Tim? Why was he first thing he chose to worry about after being tortured for at least two days was apologizing for a fight Jason started? He was too good for Bruce, too good for Gotham.
“Really?” He scoffed. “Because Dick came barging in here the other day accusing me of being the reason you were missing. Doesn’t sound like you talk favorably about me when I’m not around.”
“Why would he say–” Tim broke off when Jason moved his knee cap, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut.
“Sorry.”
“Dick’s protective.” Tim continued with a long exhale. “He believes in me and knows I’m capable but at the same time…he doesn’t want what happened to you to ever happen again. To any of us. So I kinda doubt he came in here pointing fingers like you’re saying. And you keep coming around so I also think you’re full of shit.” And somehow, even though his eyes were almost glazed with pain, Tim managed to fix him with a glare.
Jason ignored him, focusing on removing the chest plate and cutting off the bloodstained undershirt instead. More bruises were revealed, the darkest ones grouped under the burn marks, as well as shallow cuts at the armor’s weak points. Satisfied that Tim wasn’t going to bleed out, Jason grabbed two instant ice packs, crushing and shaking the bags to activate them.
“Fine. You got me. I don’t hate you. I used to but…now I don’t know.” He pressed the ice packs to Tim’s swollen shoulders. “And because I feel sorry for you, I’ll even admit that I like when you’re a smart ass.”
Tim laughed weakly. “So is this your way of calling a truce?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Jason rolled his eyes as he prepped a splint by Tim’s knee and the kid laughed again. It was rough and hollow but the sound still eased tension Jason didn’t know he was feeling. “Yeah sure kid. Truce, cease-fire, frenemies, whatever you want to call it. Now brace yourself.”
For a moment, Tim looked like he would pass out after Jason finished tying the splint. He was panting again, beads of sweat rolling down his pale face, hands fisted so tight in the sheets they might rip. “Stay with me.” Jason coaxed, hands closing around Tim’s nose. He set it with a crack, Tim yelping despite his resolve. “And done. That’s the worst of it.”
Wringing water out a clean rag, Jason sat on the edge of the bed and began gently wiping the grime from Tim’s face. There was something disturbing about tear tracks running through blood.
“Thank you.” Tim whispered when he finished.
Jason rolled his eyes, dabbing a gash on Tim’s cheek with disinfectant. “You already thanked me.”
“Screw you. You saved my life, I can thank you as much as I want.”
Jason chuckled and smoothed a bandage over it. “Mouthy. But…you’re welcome.”
A window slammed open in the main room and Nightwing came careening around the thin, makeshift wall. “Tim!” Ripping off his mask, Dick fell to his knees beside the bed. “Oh thank God, Tim.” Jason moved aside as Dick clasped his brother’s face in careful hands. “You scared me.”
“I scared myself.” But Tim’s forced laugh didn’t stop his chin from trembling. It was a feeling Jason recognized. That feeling of safety now that their big brother was there, as if his presence alone was permission to fall apart at last. And despite Jason’s earlier scolding, Tim reached for Dick who gladly hugged him.
Using the distraction, Jason escaped to the living room and shed his own armor. He needed…space. Space to process what the hell happened tonight. And food. Half a rotisserie chicken greeted him when he opened the fridge so chicken soup it was.
Jason tried very hard not to think while he diced potatoes and carrots and shredded the chicken into a pot of broth. And failed spectacularly.
It wasn’t a lie. He didn’t hate Tim anymore. The kid had been an easy target for blind rage. But maybe Jason wasn’t being honest with himself about how much he’d come to care about Tim and Dick. Or about the fact that Tim had been as relieved to see Jason as he was to see Dick. And Jason’s mind was still cataloging all of Tim’s injuries into a list that actually frightened him. It made him want to go back in and help Dick until every cut and scrape was found and bandaged.
He wanted to apologize for shouting at both of them. For chasing Dick away when he was only trying to make up for a mistake that still haunted him six years later.
Jason heaved a sigh as he stirred the soup. Fucking bats and their unnerving way of invading his life and making him care about them.
He was ladling out soup when Dick came up beside him, gloves off and sleeves rolled up his forearms. “How is he?” Jason asked.
Dick let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders to try and chase stress away. “Exhausted, covered in bandages, and okay for now. I’ll move him to the cave tomorrow after he’s rested for x-rays. He needs pain meds but not on an empty stomach.”
“Good thing I thought ahead and cooked, isn’t it?” Dick merely hummed in reply. An odd silence fell and Jason glanced at Dick out of the corner of his eye, setting the ladle back in the pot. Great. No doubt another lecture was on its way. “What?”
“Don’t stab me.”
Taken aback, Jason turned to him. “Why the hell–”
Dick hugged him, arms closing around him like bands of iron. “Thank you, Jaybird. Thank you for not leaving him there.”
And Jason…he hugged Dick back. If only for a brief moment. “I’ve set a pretty low standard haven’t I?”
With a wry smile, Dick stepped back. “Do you really want me to answer that?” He picked up a bowl of soup for himself and a mug of broth for Tim. “By the way, I’ll leave you some money to restock your medical supplies.”
“Don’t bother,” Jason grinned as he followed with his own bowl. “I steal it all from the cave anyway.”
---
It was past three in the morning when Jason finally changed into fresh clothes. He’d let Dick take a quick nap in the bed alongside Tim while he cleaned up the bloody rags and gauze. At first he wasn’t going to bother with scrubbing the blood from the ruined Robin uniform. But then he thought of Bruce and Alfred seeing it. What memories it might bring back. And while a twisted, malicious part of him didn’t mind Bruce taking a trip down memory lane, Alfred…
Jason washed the armor.
An hour later Dick was awake and in the living room, speaking to Bruce in a low voice as he updated him on Tim’s condition and relayed information about where he was found. Jason refused to tell Bruce where they were. It pissed Bruce off to no end but the man gave in and agreed to send Alfred alone later in the day to bring Tim back to the Manor.
With a drawn out, tired sigh Jason dragged a chair over beside the bed and dropped in it. It was his turn to watch over Tim, who was bandaged, in fresh clothes a size too large for him, and frowning in his restless sleep. The mix of exhaustion and painkillers didn’t drag him under as quickly as they hoped it would. Even now his eyes were slowly blinking open.
“Where’s Dick?” His words were slurred and Jason bit back a laugh.
“On the phone with B, he’ll be back in a few minutes. Quit fighting the damn medicine and go back to sleep.”
“‘m scared.” Tim looked at him, eyes pleading once more. “I keep hearing chains rattling…and their laughter.”
He moved on instinct. “There’s no chains, babybird.” Jason shifted his chair closer, taking Tim’s hand. Weak fingers curled around his. “You’re safe. Dickie will be back soon and I’m staying right here. No one is getting past us.”
“Promise?”
In the back of his mind, the part he didn’t like digging in too much like he’d been forced to do tonight, Jason remembered Dick doing this for him. Taking care of him, making him laugh despite his pain, sitting up with him on hard nights. It was what brothers did for each other.
And for once, Jason didn’t hate the word. Didn’t hate holding Tim’s hand tighter as the fear faded from his face.
“Promise.”