Chapter Text
Tim might’ve said things started to really go off the rails around when he got stabbed. And honestly, that sucked, yeah, but it was well within the bounds of normal-bad for a night like this.
No, things started to go seriously bad when Jason’s helmet got hit by the mini-EMP device the gang of thieves had been using to try to take down the bank’s security systems. If he hadn’t lost his helmet, everything that happened afterward would’ve been so much less awful.
Tim thought at first that the man he was fighting had punched him in the stomach hard enough to wind him. It was annoying that it had slipped under his guard and more annoying that he couldn’t seem to shake it off fast enough to keep moving. He’d taken way worse in sparring matches where everyone was pulling their strikes.
He was still trying to reconcile that thought with the red-slicked knife the man in front of him was holding when Jason grabbed Tim by the shoulders and lifted him bodily out of the way before slamming a fist into the man who—oh, that guy had just stabbed Tim, hadn’t he.
Tim was still on his feet, leaning heavily against the wall where Jason had set him down. He could feel a patch of wetness on his side, unpleasantly warm, wicking into his uniform. A voice in his head was telling him that he needed to do something about that, now, but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the fight in front of him. His own body felt distant and oddly irrelevant, like if he just didn’t look it couldn’t become a real problem.
Jason had the man who’d stabbed Tim down on the ground. That was quick. It didn’t look like he’d be getting up again anytime soon.
Just as Jason turned back toward Tim, another man came around the corner behind him. Tim’s attempt at a warning came out as a wordless croak, but apparently his expression said enough. Jason spun, just as the main was raising his arm, pointing something at his head.
Gun, Tim’s instincts shouted. But no, it was the wrong shape, and it made no sound even as Jason staggered and caught himself against the wall.
Tim reached for a batarang, but his fingers fumbled at the latches on his belt, like a nightmare with every move dragging into slow-motion futility.
And then Jason had the helmet off and flung it down the hall. His split-second aim held true and the helmet impacted the man’s hand with a satisfying crunch of wrecked electronics—and probably a few bones. An instant later Jason was down the hallway himself and the situation was contained before it could really be called a fight.
Good. That was good. Tim might actually need to sit down soon. His legs were starting to feel a bit wobbly. If he could just… rest a little while. Then maybe he could get up and help again.
Hands were gripping his arms and he opened his eyes to find Jason right in front of him. He was so fast. How was he moving so fast?
“Hey. I’ve got you.”
Jason’s voice was soft, gentle. His reassuring a victim voice. They all had one and Jason’s was nice, but Tim didn’t need it and he felt a little bad about being a distraction when there were still bank employees they needed to get to safety. They could probably use that kind of reassurance.
“S’okay,” he told Jason. “It doesn’t hurt.”
Jason didn’t look relieved. His eyebrows pulled together in a tight frown.
“Okay. You’re okay, Robin.” Tim knew that, obviously, he was fine, but Jason sounded like he needed to convince himself of it more than anything. “We’ve gotta get you somewhere where we can take care of this.”
Tim nodded. That made sense. He’d be more help once he wasn’t leaving a trail of blood behind him. And they could do that more easily if they didn’t have to watch for more gang members coming around the corner at any second. They were really not happy about their plans getting wrecked.
Jason activated the comm in his ear. “B, Robin’s been injured. I’m getting him somewhere I can assess things now. I’ll let you know if one of us needs to get him back for immediate medical.”
There was a second’s pause. Their experience thus far indicated the gang’s EMP devices were low-powered, meant for targeted precision use rather than widespread destruction, but the helmet might not have been enough to protect the in-ear comm Jason had taken to wearing when he was working with them. But then Batman’s voice came over the line.
“Understood. Keep me updated.”
Bruce sounded—not exactly out of breath, but very much occupied. Normally, he would immediately press for details at an injury report from any of them. It made Tim feel even worse about taking both himself and Jason out of the action, even temporarily.
“I can—you should go,” Tim said. “I’m fine.”
Jason sighed. “No, you’re not.”
Tim frowned. “You said—“
“I know what I said. Can you walk? There’s an office just around the corner but I don’t want to drop you if we get jumped.”
“Okay.”
Tim pushed himself up straight, away from the wall. At the first attempt to shift one foot forward, an almost electric jolt shot through him, setting fire to his abdomen in its wake. Oh. That wasn’t good. Jason caught him, wrapping an arm around him securely as his knees immediately started to crumple.
“Guess it’s hurting now, huh.” Another time Jason’s tone might’ve been sarcastic, but now it just sounded tense and unhappy.
“Yeah,” Tim gasped, arms wrapped around himself as he hunched over. Hurting was one way to put it.
His mind was clearer now, his body very much done with trying to cushion him from the consequences of reality. That was good, he needed to be present here, but it was also hard to think when every alarm system his body had was shrieking at once. The warm blood dripping from his wound might as well have been bubbling lava the way his stomach was burning, every fierce wave of pain a volcanic eruption. He was half surprised the drops didn’t hiss with steam as they hit the floor.
“Okay,” Jason said. “This isn’t going to work. I’m just gonna get you there fast. Hang on.”
And with that scant warning he ducked to wrap his other hand behind Tim’s knees and scooped him up in his arms. The noise Tim made was nothing more than a quiet whine, but that was only because he couldn’t gather the breath for anything else.
Just as they neared the corner Tim caught raised voices ahead. Definitely not Batman or Nightwing, and the bank employees would probably sound more scared and less angry. Not anyone they wanted to meet, then.
Jason bit off a hissed curse. He spun and reversed course, back the way they’d come, before ducking down the first hallway he came to.
“Okay,” Jason said, half to himself. “Doesn’t matter where we hole up, just gotta find a place we won’t be interrupted for a bit. Gotta be an office or a storage closet or something with a door we can close this way too.”
He was half jogging now, and each jolting step sent a spike through Tim like he was being stabbed all over again. Well, worse, actually. It hadn’t hurt this much the first time. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, trying to swallow down any sound that might draw unwanted attention.
Jason twisted around another corner and came to an abrupt stop. He stood there breathing out a steady stream of profanity, quiet and almost absent, like he wasn’t even aware of it himself. Tim pried his eyes open to see what had provoked the reaction.
Dead end. The only thing this hall led to was the vault. The vault which the gang members who had broken away from Batman and Nightwing’s efforts to round them up were no doubt heading for, in a last-ditch effort to get at the gems currently being stored there in preparation for the weekend’s exhibition.
Which meant that regardless of whether those men were actively chasing them down or not, they’d probably be coming down the hallway behind Jason and Tim… any second now.
The massive vault door still stood open. The gang had chosen their timing well, after the influx of additional valuables had been taken in and the gem show’s own security transport had left but before the remaining bank employees had completed the night’s lockdown procedures.
And right now that room offered the only position they had that was even somewhat defensible until Tim’s bleeding was under control.
Jason came to the same conclusion. He moved forward again, stepping inside and turning to lay Tim down on the floor. Out of sight around the corner, but just a step away from the entrance.
There was a digital control panel on the wall outside, ready to activate mechanized hinges to automatically open or close the massive door and engage the lock. Jason didn’t bother with it. He grabbed one of the bars that attached to the door’s locks on the inside and hauled at it, swinging it inward.
Tim’s stomach flipped with sudden panic. “Don’t—”
Jason spared him a glance. “Just narrowing the point of entry. I’m not closing us in here.”
Right. Good plan. Ensuring hostiles couldn’t come at them more than one at a time, making it harder for them to fire wildly inside and send bullets ricocheting off the metal walls.
With one last glance at the hallway outside, Jason ducked back in and crouched down in front of Tim. He set his gun on the floor beside Tim, ready to snatch up again in an instant.
“Let’s have a look here,” he said, tugging at Tim’s uniform top.
Tim shifted to help pull it out of the way and Jason switched to pulling first aid supplies from his pockets.
The wound was still dripping steadily, but more oozing than gushing, no spurts that would indicate a bleed likely to be lethal in minutes rather than hours. When he looked up again Jason had a wad of gauze unpackaged.
“This is gonna suck,” Jason said. “Sorry.”
Tim nodded, pulling in a deep breath to brace himself.
He had time to think that he should try to keep quiet, not draw attention their way. And then his vision whited out and he had no idea if he was making sounds or not because all he could think about was wanting it to stop, stop, please stop.
When the ringing in his ears finally started to clear he could hear Jason, bent close over him, muttering, “Sorry, sorry, kid, just hang on…”
He wanted to tell Jason that it was okay, he knew it had to be done, but he wanted even more to fight this, to push away the pressure that felt like it was tearing his insides apart. It was taking everything he had to keep still and not try to squirm away from Jason’s weight pressing down on him. His shallow, panting breaths seemed to echo in his own ears.
Tim had no sense for how long they stayed like that before Jason’s head jerked up and turned toward the door. He grabbed Tim’s hand and pressed it down on top of the gauze.
“You with me?” Jason asked. “Good. Keep the pressure on that, hard as you can.”
And then Jason snatched up his gun and was on his feet, cautiously peering around the corner of the doorway.
“Ocupado,” Jason called out. “Go find your own vault to hang out in, this one’s taken.”
A confused murmur of voices from the hallway. Tim couldn’t make out the words. It’d be nice if they just decided to take Jason’s advice and give up.
Nice, but unlikely.
“We know you’re hurt,” a man’s voice called back. “We saw the blood. Just give us the gems and no one needs to die for them.”
Jason flicked a glance over his shoulder at the far side of the vault and grimaced.
“No can do,” he said. “Counteroffer: head out while you’ve still got a chance of slipping past Batman and I won’t hunt you down and put a bullet in your head later.”
If it came down to it, Tim didn’t doubt that Jason would’ve handed over the gems and banked on being able to get them back later, if Batman or Nightwing didn’t stop them on the way out. And it wasn’t difficult to figure out where the gems were most likely being kept, with the heavy lockbox carts against the far wall an obvious method of securely transporting them to and from their destination. Unfortunately, those carts were securely locked and chained to the handles of the built-in wall lockboxes lining the room.
Presumably, the would-be thieves had brought equipment that could get them loose. But any attempt to negotiate letting them in to use that equipment was just asking to be taken hostage in the process, which would not improve their current situation.
Cracking gunfire had Jason ducking back fully behind the shelter of the wall. A second later Jason leaned out to return a couple of shots before pulling back again.
Tim’s stomach twisted with every shot fired. Jason didn’t have the usual protection of his helmet and there was nothing he could do to help. Probably wouldn’t be much he could do to help at this moment even if he wasn’t stuck lying here, willing his body to stop bleeding.
Wait. There was one thing he could do. He tapped his comm.
“We have a problem down at the vault. We need backup.”
A burst of static in his ear made him wince. He tapped the comm again.
“Batman, Nightwing, come in.”
Another burst of garbled noise that might have been a response or a malfunctioning comm. The vault could be blocking the signal. Or the others’ comms might have been damaged since they last spoke, if the gang had more than one of the EMP devices.
Jason pressed his back against the wall again as more gunshots cracked outside, pinging off the door. He stared at the far wall, seeming to do some mental calculation to decide the right moment to stick his head out again. Tim wished he knew what it was that tipped the scale for him.
This time, when he leaned out into the doorway he instantly staggered back with a choked shout.
But there had been no crack of gunfire. Just a hissing sound as a cloud of fine mist flew into Jason’s face.
Tim shoved himself up onto one elbow, trying to get up, to do something. But that movement alone had him gasping, frozen, and it was all he could do not to drop flat on the floor again.
Jason swiped a sleeve across his face and fired toward the entry.
A scream of pain from outside. At least one shot had hit home.
There was a burst of return gunfire from outside. A faint mechanical whine started up, and then a deep humming that seemed to reverberate through the entire room.
Raised voices outside—definitely not happy about whatever was happening. And then a split second later Jason was flinging himself forward with a shout that was nearly as alarmed as theirs.
Oh. One of their bullets must have hit the control panel.
Jason hit the door hard, but his efforts to shove it back might as well have been trying to shift the entire planet for all the good it did. His boots skidded uselessly against the smooth floor as the door swung inexorably into place, closing the remaining gap in seconds. The thunk as its lock engaged and bolts slid home sounded… very final.
Jason pulled back, staring at the door, breathing hard. Finally, he dragged his attention away and turned back to Tim. His face tightened into a sharp scowl when he saw the way Tim was curled, still half propped up on one elbow.
“Lay back down. What’d you move for?”
“I was—you—”
Jason knelt down beside him and pressed at his shoulder. Tim didn’t even try to resist, dropping back with a stuttering gasp.
“Yeah, well,” Jason said, “They can’t get in now, at least.”
And we can’t get out.
Good in the short term. Potentially very bad in the medium to long term.
“Was that fear toxin?”
For a second, Tim thought Jason was going to lie. His eyes were visible, the lenses of his domino down as they usually were behind the helmet, and he wouldn’t look directly at Tim. Not much point to false assurances, though, when the answer would become obvious soon enough. Tim already knew it hadn’t been pepper spray.
“Probably.”
“I don’t have any antidote left,” Tim said. “You?”
Jason shook his head.
They’d used it up on the bank employees who’d been hit. When they’d first come on the scene the Bats had been on guard against more toxin attacks, but it had seemed the gang’s use of fear toxin was a one-and-done, the emptied distribution system they’d found attached to the vents meant to cause panic and confusion among the employees in their initial assault. They weren’t affiliated with Scarecrow; unlikely they could get their hands on large quantities of toxin.
Not unlikely enough, it seemed.