Work Text:
When they pushed the slab of concrete off of Tim’s arm, Bruce’s stomach dropped.
The extremity was mangled beyond recognition, crushed and skewered by slabs of concrete and rebar. Between the tattered remains of the Red Robin suit, Batman saw streaks of exposed bone, tendon, and muscle. The arm itself seemed to be attached by mere threads of tissue.
There would be no saving it.
Upon seeing his little brother’s arm, Nightwing promptly turned away and threw up. Acidic bile rose in Bruce’s throat as well, but he forced it back down. Batman had to remain stoic and in control. Bruce could freak out later, once his son was safe.
“Blood pressure is tanking,” one of the medics reported.
The charge, who had been inspecting what was left of Tim’s arm, cursed. “We’re gonna have to amputate. He’s too unstable. It would take too long to try to free the extremity from the wreckage. It’s beyond saving, anyway. Mike, keep the fluid boluses going and administer epi. Jacob, give him some ketamine then begin setting up the field. Tom, cut the pipe that’s impaling him. We gotta get ready to move as soon as he’s free.”
Batman growled. “Keep him steady. I have better tools.”
The medic nodded and kept Tim still while Bruce burrowed underneath to find the pipe impaling his son. The pipe seemed to go all the way into the ground, so Bruce opened his wrist laser and cut the impaling object as close to his son’s back as he dared. When he stood back up, he saw the charge medic holding a bone saw.
“Nightwing, get out of here. Find the others,” Batman ordered.
Dick had just finished emptying his stomach. He glanced at the saw and went white. “I-I can’t leave him. Not like this.”
Bruce shook his head. “You don’t need to see this. I’ll stay with him.”
Nightwing shook his head. “B-but –”
“Go! Find the others. Now!”
His voice was harsher than his eldest deserved, but Bruce didn’t have time to argue. Tim was about to become an amputee, and he didn’t want Dick to witness the gory procedure. It was likely to haunt him for the rest of his life.
Dick knelt by his brother’s head. “I’m staying,” he insisted.
Batman let out a growl but said nothing else. He didn’t have it in him to push back anymore.
The medics finished prepping the incision site. It was just a few inches below Tim’s shoulder. The rest of his uniform sleeve had been cut away, and the site had been cleaned and draped.
“10 blade,” the charge medic ordered.
It was right as they made the first cut that Batman realized he couldn’t watch what was happening. There was simply no way he could remain unfeeling for this. So, he crouched on the other side of his son’s head and kept his gaze fixed on Tim’s pale, unmoving face. Bruce thanked every deity out there that Red Robin was unconscious. Even if the boy still let out heart-wrenching moans from time to time.
When the loud whirring of the bone saw sliced through the air, Nightwing reached over and grabbed one of Batman’s gloved hands. Batman, allowing himself a single moment of weakness, squeezed Dick’s hand back.
The only good thing about the horrible disfigurement of Tim’s arm was that it did not take long for the medics to amputate. The bone was so badly damaged that it surrendered to the blades of the saw immediately. The whole process took less than five minutes. Tim's arm separated from the rest of his body with a sickening pop. Bruce forced himself to keep his gaze on his sons. If he saw the stump, he would definitely lose it.
As soon as they finished dressing the wound, the medics carefully moved Tim onto the bright red stretcher and strapped him in. Batman followed closely behind them, rapidly barking out orders on the comm as they went.
“We are en route to the ambulance. Everyone, stay in position and help GCPD and emergency services finish the rescue and cleanup. I will send updates as I am able. Red Hood, you are in charge while Nightwing and I escort Red Robin to the hospital.”
“Hospital? You’re letting them take him to the hospital?” Signal asked over Damian’s protests.
Batman grunted, his eyes never leaving his son’s too pale face. Hospitals were normally a big “no no” for them while in costume, but he had no choice but to make an exception. Tim’s life was more important than any secret. “Normally, I would try to avoid it, but he can’t be treated at the Cave. This is his best chance at survival.”
“I’ve activated his mask’s defense system. If any unauthorized personnel try to remove it, they’ll receive an electric shock,” Oracle added.
“I got things here, B. Go be with Red,” Jason huffed. “Tell him I’ll kick his ass if he even thinks about dying.”
Batman swallowed hard. “I expect everyone to follow orders and cooperate with the emergency personnel. I will be signing off for now, but Oracle can get in contact with me should there be an emergency.”
Batman heard a few noises of confirmation as he reached up and switched off his comm. They arrived at the triage checkpoint where all the ambulances were parked and ready. Luckily, most of the critical patients in the red area had already been taken, leaving mostly those in the yellow and green areas.
“We’ve got a red tag in need of immediate transport,” the charge medic announced to the supervisor. They were promptly directed to one of the waiting vehicles.
“Only one of you can fit in the back. The other can sit shotgun,” the charge offered. Nightwing met Bruce’s eyes for a split second before reluctantly letting go of Tim’s hand and stepping away from the gurney.
“Stay with him,” he said, squeezing Bruce’s shoulder. Batman nodded in thanks and hopped into the back of the ambulance.
When the door to Tim’s room opened, Bruce’s heart broke. His son looked like hell. Underneath the mess of monitors, IV tubes, and wires, Tim was almost translucently pale. His broken leg was propped up on a pillow, the foot of the bright red cast poking out beneath the mountain of blankets. His chest was exposed, revealing dark bruises all around his ribs and a large, blue dressing filling the space where he had been impaled. A clear tube came out of the dressing and another came out of his collapsed lung. Both tubes were sucking blood into their respective containers. The worst part, however, was seeing the empty spot on the bed where Tim’s right arm should be. In its place was a short, round stump covered in white gauze.
Next to him, Nightwing stiffened. He could feel the despair radiating from his eldest.
“I realize it is jarring to see him like this, but he is holding steady for now. I will be back in a couple of hours to check on him. If you need anything before then, there’s a call button on the wall here. His nurse’s name is Caleb. These are your key cards,” the doctor explained, handing them each a plastic card. “There are only five to this room. You have two, I have one, your nurse has one, and the unit security manager has the final one. Anyone else, like the respiratory therapist or infection control, will have to check in with security and be let in manually. If a rapid response is needed, a pre-screened team will be given emergency access. There are also no cameras of any kind in here. The only thing connected to the nurse’s station are the monitors for his vitals, so if you’d like to de-mask for a while, I can assure you that you have complete privacy. This light above the door will flash red when a key card is activated, so no one will be able to sneak up on you. Do you have any questions I can answer while I’m here?”
“When will he have his next surgery?”
The doctor glanced at the monitor and frowned. “Most likely not until tomorrow morning. His blood pressure is still too low even with the infusions and vasopressors going. He’s just not stable enough right now.”
Nightwing swallowed. “Understood. Thank you, doctor.”
Once they were alone and the doors were locked, Batman flipped his comm line on. “Oracle, confirm that the room is secure,” he ordered.
There was a few seconds of silence, then Barbara answered, “I found no cameras or microphones of any kind. You guys are in the dark. I double-checked his mask’s security, and no one has attempted to take it off.”
“Good. Thanks, Babs,” Dick sighed, taking his mask off to rub his eyes.
“How bad is it?” she asked, her voice quiet.
“Very,” Dick replied. Bruce watched him take a seat at his brother’s bedside and gently lifted Tim’s mask off of his face. His eyes were closed, but dark purple bags stuck out starkly underneath them. Even during Tim’s worst bouts of insomnia, his eyes never had looked that bad. “He was too unstable to stay in surgery, so they’re having to wait to do any real repairs. But his heart’s still beating for now, and that’s enough for me.”
Barbara let out a breath. “I’ll update the others. Keep me posted.”
Dick reached up and gently brushed his little brother’s bangs out of his face. “Hey, Timmy, I know you’re sleeping pretty hard right now, but I want you to know that I’m so proud of you for making it this far. Just do us all a favor and keep it up, alright? I love you so much, little brother.”
“This is going to be detrimental to him,” Bruce sighed, reaching up and pulling down his cowl.
“At least he’s alive,” Dick pointed out, though his tone was flat.
The “for now” hung unsaid in the air. Tim had survived his initial surgery, but he was far from stable. His status could take a turn for the worse at any moment.
"I never should have taken him down there with me," Batman cursed himself.
"This job has risks. We all know that when we put on the mask. Tim wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else."
Bruce slumped into a chair on the other side of Tim's bed. He tried to keep his eyes on his son's face, but he couldn't help but stare at the ugly stump.
"Hey," Dick said softly, "I know it sucks, but having one arm isn't the end of the world. He can get a prosthesis. In fact, he can design it himself and make the most kick-ass arm on the planet. And we'll all be there to support him through this."
"How you can continue to be so optimistic, I'll never know," Bruce grumbled.
Dick shrugged. "From my point of view, I almost lost another little brother today, but I didn't. Sure, he's going to have some lasting scars, but at least he's still here. As long as he stays that way, everything else will work out."
"I hope you're right," Bruce sighed. "I really, really do."