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Summary:

Robin makes a choice on the field that ends up getting him and the others in a fair bit of trouble.

Notes:

I should be doing my motion graphics assignment but I’m not because I almost passed out today. Sorry, project partner, I swear I’m trying. I’m just having issues.
I know I’m behind on my Whumptober writings. I have no apologies.
I also did draw some inspiration from BBC Sherlock for this, I have no shame. It was a very interesting take on a gunshot wound scene and I think that Bruce would absolutely teach the Robins how to take a wound and not die.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The choice was actually pretty simple—either he would take the hit, or Artemis would.

 

Not really a choice, then.

 

Not to him.

 

Throwing himself in the way, Robin stumbled back. There was a solid punch to his gut as the bullet hit. Blinking, he raised his hands for a moment. O-oh. Artemis stared at him, wide-eyed.

 

Robin! M’gann screamed over the link. Knees shaking, Robin took another shaky step back. Bruce taught him about this. He could handle it. Just—he’d never had to do it before. He’d been lucky.

 

Not so lucky now, he thought. Blinking, he stared ahead for a moment. Bruce’s words settled in the back of his mind—

 

Bruce was standing in front of the Batcomputer, showing signs and symptoms of blood loss. Something from Mayo Clinic, hilariously. Dick knew why. Easy to understand, easy to read. Something quick to glance over and reference. Better on the mind of a ten-year-old who was throwing himself into the violent world of Gotham’s underbelly every single night, compared to mission reports that would ground themselves in his mind forever, every time he looked at Bruce. There would be a time for that, but later. When he was older.

 

“What’s going to kill you first?” Bruce asked. Blinking, Dick scanned over the list—

 

Blood loss, he thought, feeling the world swim and dip around him. In front of him, Artemis was firing off arrows towards whoever had shot him. The mission had gone south long before this point. No need to worry about stealth now. He just needed to figure this out—

 

“Good. Now the choice is which way to fall.” Bruce said, kneeling down in front of him. Gently, he poked Dick in the stomach, right beneath his sternum, and met his gaze. “You get shot here. What’s the choice?”

 

“Where’s the bullet still?” Dick asked, a question of his own. Not something Bruce anticipated. “Is it still in me?”

 

“How are you going to know?” Bruce asked, and Dick paused—

 

Windows. He and Artemis had chosen a place by the window. An easy escape, an easy exit, in case things went even worse than they had. No shattering glass. No exit wound.

 

Make gravity work for you. Keep the bullet inside. Don’t fall forwards. His knee buckled, he tipped back on his heels. Gravity pulled back on him, dragged him to the ground. Somewhere, someone screamed. M’gann. Fight the shock. Calm M’gann down. You don’t have long to fight it.

 

M’gann. He forced out, grasping onto the telepathic link with all that he had. M’gann, I need you to focus. I’m fine.

 

You have a bullet in you, Robin. I’m pretty sure that that is the exact opposite of fine. Artemis fired back. Swallowing, Robin pressed his hands to his stomach, winced at the pain shooting across his skin.

 

I’m whelmed. You all are overwhelmed. The most important thing is getting everyone out of here alive. Artemis, do you have a lock on the guy who did this?

 

Well, yes—

 

Then take him out. One injured is bad enough. He took a breath. He didn’t have much time. I’m going to go into shock. There’s literally a hole ripped in me, so it’s not exactly something that I can control. Wally— he had to take a moment, swallowing slowly. His heart was pounding, blood roaring in his ears. He didn’t have much time left. So, he started again. Wally, I’m going to need you or Conner to get me out of here. I’m not going to be able to get back up on my feet without risking dislodging this. Our main worry is going to be blood loss and then—shock.

 

I’ll get him. Wally said.

 

No. Wally, we need you here. Kaldur ordered. Conner, you can get Robin to the evac point. Wally, I will explain later.

 

On my way. Conner appeared a moment later, landing heavily on the platform beside Artemis. As he did, he shook the metal floor. Wincing, Robin pressed his hands to his stomach as best as he could. Conner strode over, a bullet winging off of his shoulder. He glanced back and scowled at whoever it was, and then Artemis sent an arrow their way. There was an explosion a moment later.

 

Before Conner could pick him up, Robin forced out—“Wait.” Conner hesitated, hands jerking away from Robin’s side. “I need—to bandage the injury. To slow the bleeding a little more. There’s—my belt.” He took his hands from his stomach. In the sunlight streaming through the windows, he could see the blood slicking his gloves. Exhaling shakily through his mouth, he reached for the little box.

 

Conner took initiative instead, taking out the bandages himself. “What do you need me to do?” He asked, blue eyes meeting Robin’s.

 

Robin took a slow, steady breath. Don’t go into shock, don’t go into shock, don’t go into shock, he repeated. “You’re going to have to lift me up a little bit. We need to wrap it around my stomach. Normally I would try to pack the wound, but I don’t think we have the time for that. This is the quicker option.” He explained. Nodding, Conner helped him sit up just a little bit. The muscles all along the front and sides of his stomach and chest—even the ones on his back—made their displeasure of this well known. Gritting his teeth, Robin helped Conner as best as he could. His hands were shaking violently, and he let out a slow breath again. Keep breathing, Rob. Just a little longer. “I’m going to pass out on the way back. Sorry ‘bout that.”

 

“You apologize for the worst things!” Artemis yelled, watching their backs. Gunfire rattled off in the distance. He could hear punches being thrown. Turning back to Conner, Robin helped him secure the bandages.

 

“Okay, uh—best way to do this would probably be one arm around the shoulders and the other under the knees. Any impact on the injury might dislodge the bullet, and that’s what’s keeping my blood in me right now.” Robin said, voice steadier than his hands. Nodding, Conner carefully scooped him up and then kicked out the window. Glass shattered, falling to the forest floor outside.

 

Then, they were off, and Robin had a brief second to apologize mentally before he was unconscious again.

 

+

 

It was meant to be a simple mission.

 

This was not simple.

 

“Robin, B-01. Superboy, B-04.” The announcement of Dick and Conner’s return made Bruce glance up. He may have been wearing the cowl for the moment, but there it was more a formality with the team. He was there because he was going to be picking Dick up for dinner. Alfred was making chicken and gnocchi that night, the banquet they had originally been going to had been cancelled. All the caterers got food poisoning the day before, and when Bruce had investigated it had been some mild Poison Ivy chaos. He took care of that, but he and Dick didn’t have to go anymore. So, yeah. Free night, chicken and gnocchi, he sent them on an easy-sounding mission. But when is being a hero ever an easy life?

 

Bruce’s heart fell to the floor when he saw Dick cradled in Conner’s arms.

 

His head was tipped back, eyes visibly closed even from a distance and mouth partly open. Conner looked terrified, eyes flicking around. One of Dick’s arms was thrown over his stomach, the other dangled limply down. Stiffening, Bruce stared at Conner for a moment.

 

He wasn’t the first one to move. It was Green Arrow, it was Black Canary. The two of them rushed by, Arrow taking Dick from Conner’s arms and Canary already guiding Conner away from Dick to somewhere safe. Somewhere they could talk. Jolting himself from his mind, Bruce forced his legs to move. Forced himself to follow Arrow.

 

Dick was settled on the medical bay bed. His eyes were still closed. With Conner gone, with Arrow as their only company, Bruce reached out and touched Dick’s cheek. There was a low groan, a pinch in his eyebrows. “It’s alright. Conner got you to the Mountain. You’re going to be just fine.” He reassured, softly. At his side, Arrow was already setting up the medical bay for the needed surgery. There were bandages wrapped around Dick’s middle.

 

Brushing his hair back, Bruce watched Dick’s face for any other sign of pain as he helped Arrow hook up the painkillers.

 

+

 

When Dick woke up, he was lying in his bed back at Wayne Manor.

 

Oh. Guess I’m on bed rest, he mused, grimacing to himself. Slowly, he shifted until he was sitting up against the pillows. There were a few wires snaking down under his shirt. With a weak smile and a roll of his eyes, because of course Bruce would stick him with an EKG to know when he woke up, he prodded at his stomach. There were a few stitches, his stomach was sore. Okay, location means it could have caused damage to my liver, stomach, or intestines. I don’t think it hit anything too major like a lung?

 

Pausing, wondering when he started defining which organs were major and which weren’t, Dick licked his lips and then sighed.

 

He was...definitely feeling the aster.

 

The door opened, and in walked Bruce. Alfred was right behind him, looking the way he always did when he was worried for both the superheroes in his care. “Dick.”

 

“Nice to see you awake, Master Dick.” Alfred said, smiling. Then, he pushed his way past Bruce, wheeling in a tray with soup and toast on it. As for Bruce, he went and sat down at the foot of the bed. “The bullet managed to cause minimal damage. Only a little internal bleeding. Once we were made aware of your situation, Red Tornado and Captain Marvel were sent out in order to handle any other issues that might arise. No one else was injured.”

 

“Sounds like a good result.” Dick said, breathlessly. “Do I need to be careful eating?”

 

“No. The damage was to your left kidney. Take it easy for a little while, but you should be alright.” Looking at him scoldingly, Alfred added, “That means you’ll need to spend six weeks out. You ruptured your kidney, Master Dick. That’s a serious injury.”

 

Dick grinned at him, “I’m going to cause so much chaos over the comms. You won’t even believe it.”

 

Exchanging a glance with Alfred, Bruce let out a fond sigh, touched Dick’s knee, and said, “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Notes:

There was a time where that banquet sentence was “...the banquet they had had had been cancelled.” It’s somehow correct, by the way. If you said that Superman-forsaken sentence aloud, it makes sense.
Also, yes, I know my way of writing whump isn’t technically only whump but look I don’t write normally and this is the way I like. And yes, Dick thinks of himself as “Robin” when he’s in the costume and “Dick” when he isn’t. Bruce does the exact same thing.
And let Bruce be a good dad, damnit! (You can tell the only DC Comics I take in is Wayne Family Adventures on Webtoon. DC can pry my slice of life fluff from my cold, not-yet-dead hands.)

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