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The last goon fell to the ground with a thud!
Damian hissed and staggered back into a nearby support beam. His side stung with sharp pain, and when he put his hand over the spot it came away wet. Damian stared down at his fingers and then gave a curse.
The man's final knife jab must've swiped him.
Immediately the boy felt a twinge of dread, pressing his palm tightly against the wound. He wasn't supposed to be out tonight. He had been given strict instructions, and like a typical rebellious child, he had completely ignored them, snuck out in the middle of the night, too angry and stubborn to think twice.
Damian inhaled sharply through his teeth. He stood there indecisively for several long moments.
Who could he call? If he put out an alert over the Batwave his father would undoubtedly be the first on the scene, but Damian felt like he'd rather perish in that warehouse than face the man's wrath after deliberately disobeying him. Pennyworth was also right out, he'd just snitch immediately to his father.
Oracle?
Considering it, he leaned his staff against the beam and dug out his personal communicator. He flipped the frequency until the Oracle symbol appeared in the small LCD screen.
With shaking fingers, he opened the channel.
-DCU-
Jason scanned the smoggy horizon idly with his binoculars, the small of his back pressed up against the seat of his motorcycle, idly listening to the static on the line.
The static suddenly buzzed to life with a voice.
"Oracle?"
Jason's ears perked up. He turned half his attention behind him to the scanner, still surveying.
"Robin to Oracle, come in," the voice said again.
There was moment of silence and then a female voice answered.
"Oracle here. What is it, Robin?"
There was a breathy sound over the line, like a relieved sigh. "Call Gotham PD to 556 North 53rd Street. Four suspects for apprehension. And..." There was a hesitation, and then a halting, hesitant, clearly reluctant follow-up. "...please alert the closest hospital that they will be receiving a patient. Male, age 13, incision to the left side, between the third and fourth ribs."
That had Jason's full attention right away. He dropped the binoculars, turning fully around and grabbing the listening piece to his scanner, pressing it against the side of his helmet.
Oracle gave a curse. "Dammit Robin, what did you do?" she demanded.
"I failed to deflect a knife strike from a lumbering boorish thug," he said flatly.
Tapping on the line. Fingers moving quickly across a keyboard.
"Alert generated," Oracle said with professional clipped tone. "I'm sending a high-priority ping to Bat—"
"No!" Robin's voice interrupted in a panic. Jason had been in the middle of pulling up a map on his cycle's built-in navigation, and paused slightly to hear the conversation. Robin was panting slightly, a wavering, fearful note in his voice. "Please..." he begged, "...please don't tell him. I'm not... I'm not supposed to be out."
The map finished loading on his cycle's screen and Jason frowned. Making a hasty decision he pressed a button on his scanner and joined the call.
"Nearest urgent care facility is St. Mercy's on 63rd," he said. "You'll never make it on foot." He slung a leg over his cycle, settling into the seat. "I'm not even half a block away, I'll get him there," he promised.
"Jason, quit hacking into this line!" Oracle cried indignantly. "You're not even supposed to be in Gotham right now, when did you even get back?!" she demanded.
"Not important," he snorted, hands settling on the handlebars and revving the engine. "I'll take care of it, Babs, do not tell the old man about any of it."
"You know he'll find out eventually," she warned.
Jason shrugged. "Maybe."
Then he put feet to the pedals and his cycle screamed forward with thrusting motion.
-DCU-
Damian proceeded slowly down the street, hand clenched against his side. His shirt was staining darker red, blood seeping into his kevlar. He knew the way to the closest urgent care center, he just had to get there, just had to stay on his feet long enough...
The sharp roar of a motorcycle engine punctured the night, sounding loud in his ears, as the vehicle came screeching around the corner.
Damian came to a wobbling stop, just as the motorcycle screeched to a halt next to him. The man atop it was clad in black and brown leathers, emblazoned with the Bat-symbol, a full head-encompassing red helmet clasped around his face.
The blank white eyes of the helmet seemed to bore into him.
"Get on," the man barked, gruffly.
Wary, Damian took a faltering step back, looking with suspicion at the newcomer. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.
An aggravated scoff came from under the helmet. "Look, do you want to bleed to death in the street or what?"
He had no quick answer for that, swaying a bit on his feet. It seemed... harder to think... for some reason.
That was bad. That was very, very bad. Damian shook himself, pushing past the fog that was starting to gather in his brain. Light-headed, he stumbled towards his mysterious rescuer, wincing with every step as fresh pain blossomed through his skull.
"Todd?" he queried vaguely, free hand fumbling to grab hold of the seat. "I've... heard about you... I think..." he said, clambering awkwardly onto the cycle behind him.
The eyes behind the lenses looked concerned. "How much blood have you lost?" the man asked him.
Damian struggled to concentrate for a second. "Too much... probably..." he said, his voice wheezing slightly.
The man squeezed the handlebars of his cycle tightly. "All right," he decided, his voice with a firm, authoritative tone that made Damian feel safer somehow. "Don't worry, kid. I gotcha."
The roar of the cycle beneath him overtook Damian's senses. He tilted forward, grabbing onto the older man's waist and wincing as his side stung, blood seeping into his clothes and making him feel colder and colder.
This is probably a bad idea... he thought. But he couldn't focus, he was exhausted, he knew he would never make it to the urgent care center on his own.
He drooped against the other rider, feeling his thoughts blur slightly as they sped away.
-DCU-
Jason fidgeted. He couldn't help it. Hospitals made him nervous in general and he'd been waiting for over an hour, waiting to see if the latest addition to his old man's entourage was going to pull through.
He wanted to bite his nails, but his helmet made that impossible, unless he took it off. He settled for sitting on his hands, bouncing with agitation as he waited.
A nurse stepped through the open door.
"Red... Hood?" came the tentative question.
He stood to his feet immediately, arranging himself with some manner of formal propriety. "Right here," he said. "Uh... speaking."
The nurse nodded, and then gave a smile, drawing eyes up from her clipboard. "Robin's going to be okay," she told him. "The blood transfusion is working. He should be stabilized and ready for discharge in the morning."
Jason deflated in relief, his shoulders sagging. "Right, uh..." he stammered, unsure what to say. "Thanks. That's—that's good to know."
The nurse clicked a pen, hovering it over her paperwork. "Are there any other family members that ah... should be informed?" she asked awkwardly.
Jason grimaced behind his helmet. "You should probably let the Batman know," he told her. "He's a bit hard to get hold of sometimes, I know, but he'd want to be here."
The nurse sighed and gave a grimace.
"He uh... can be reached through Commissioner Gordon?" Jason offered.
The nurse muttered and wrote down some notes on her paperwork.
"Can I see him?" Jason asked, trying not to sound too anxious.
She nodded, stepping to the side of the doorway. "Room Six, on your left," she told him.
Jason nodded hard through his hood, moving past her into the hallway. His heart pounded a bit as he counted the number of the rooms, three, four, five...
He stopped a moment outside Room Six. Inhaling slowly, he pressed down on the door handle.
The lock clicked, and the door swung heavily inwards with just the slightest amount of pushing from him. Jason stilled his breath as he walked in, carefully shutting the door behind him and stepping up towards the gurney.
The kid was sleeping soundly, peacefully, his arm hooked up to an IV, the steady drip, drip, drip the only sound in the room. Jason walked up to the bed in a bit of awe, staring with some strange affection as the boy slept.
It was his first time meeting the kid. Dick had mentioned him, obviously, complaining often about the new Robin Bats had taken, how surly and bad-tempered he was, but Jason had never actually seen him before.
He looked... so much like Bruce...
The kid stirred. Jason tensed, drawing back, unsure what to do while Damian blinked, eyelids fluttering sleepily, shifting on the bed.
"Father...?" came the delirious question.
Jason laughed shortly, heat in his eyes that refused to go away, no matter how much he scolded himself. "Not quite," he said. "My name's Jason. You can call me an... older brother. If you want," he added.
"Jason... Todd..." Damian repeated, still slightly delirious. "Thank you. I'm... sorry to impose..."
"No problem, kid," came Jason's tremulous reply, his eyes stinging behind the mask. He shook himself, reminding himself that sentimental emotion didn't suit his image. Hell, but he liked this kid. "Got caught on the wrong side of a Bat-edict, huh?" he quipped, so full of confusing emotions it made him dizzy.
The kid chuckled. "You could say that... I guess..." came his warbling reply.
Jason grinned, reaching over to squeeze the kid's hand. "I think you and I have a lot in common," he said, the unfettered smile pulling at his mouth.