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Tim stumbles into the closest safe house. He groans as he climbs in through the window and trips over nothing.
The ground is nice. He doesn’t need to get up.
But he needs to close and lock the window. He groans with his face pressed into the floor. He puts his hands underneath him and tries to shove to his feet.
His arms shake, he only manages to make it to his knees. He knows he’s leaving bloody smears on the floor, but he doesn't care. He shuffles around on his knees so he’s facing the window. He slides it shut then locks it.
He leans against the wall, panting. That took way too much effort.
He needs to clean his injuries, but it’s hard enough to keep from passing out.
He’s not familiar with this particular safe house, but there should be a first aid kit in the bathroom.
The bathroom that is much too far away.
Maybe his injuries will heal on their own.
His head dips forward. He’s so tired.
He jolts, accidentally slamming his head against the wall. Great. Another blow to the head to add to all his other injuries. Wonderful. He definitely needs to make his concussion worse.
He mostly feels numb, which on an intellectual level, he knows is bad. The cuts across his torso and back are still bleeding. He thinks some of them might need stitches. He avoids thinking about how he’s going to treat the ones on his back.
Stupid Penguin goons. Stupid Penguin who knew to disable his comm and panic button before he had his goons beat Tim up. At least he got away.
This safehouse must have a phone somewhere. He needs to find it. He needs to treat his injuries. But to do that he needs to get up, and the floor is very comfy.
He feels unconsciousness pull at him again. He will not pass out. He will not pass out. He will not. He will–
Something heavy lands on the fire escape and the window slides open. Someone climbs into the apartment, and Tim holds himself very still. Light glints of the figure's helmet. Then they freeze and scan the room. His glowing eyes land on Tim.
“What the sh–” Jason pauses as if expecting Alfred to pop up from somewhere with his eyebrow of disappointment and his swear jar held out. Alfred has trained them too well. “What are you doing in my apartment, Replacement?” he growls.
“Just chillin’” Tim says, but he’s honestly not sure how understandable it was. He’s pretty sure he’s slurring his words. He blinks tiredly at Jason. Will he kick him out? Will he toss him out the window? Tim’s not sure he’ll make it to the next safehouse if that happens.
“Just… chilling’?” Jason asks.
Oh. Good. He did understand him.
“So, that’s not blood you’re covered in?”
Tim doesn’t answer. Why would he when the answer is obvious, and he’s too out of it to come up with a funny quip.
Jason sighs. “Come on, then. Can’t have you dying in my safehouse. Dick would never forgive me.”
Tim snorts.
“You’re right. The real tragedy is that Alfred would neve give me anymore cookies.” Jason says as he bends down to pick Tim up.
Tim wants to protest. He doesn’t need to be carried. But as Jason lifts him, Tim’s head swims with wooziness.
Jason sets him on the couch and goes to fetch his first aid kit.
He works in silence, tending to Tim’s wounds, and Tim’s grateful. He doesn’t have the energy for a conversation.
He lets himself drift without falling asleep.
Jason will take care of him.
He’s safe here.