Chapter Text
Tim watched from the rafters as Red Hood interrogated one of the traffickers he’d captured. The warehouse they were in was old and creaky, forcing Tim to be extra careful as he snuck around. Below, Red Hood was pacing back and forth in front of his victim playing with the gun in his hands.
“I’ll give you two options. One you tell me where the rest of your crew is, and I’ll drop you off at Gotham General after I put a bullet through your foot. Option two, you don’t talk and I shoot you then let Jerry over there stitch you up and we start this all over again.” He leaned in closer as he threatened the man. “What’ll it be?”
The guy began to cry, and Tim snapped a photo with his camera. Since getting benched, he decided to sneak out in his civies and follow Jason around. It had been a while since he added to his photo collection of the bats, and he was severely lacking Red Hood pictures.
“I’ll talk. Please. . . please don’t hurt me,” the guy begged.
Jason pointed his gun at the guy’s foot. “Then tell me where they are.”
“By the docks. They’ll be there until sunrise.”
A gun shot rang out startling Tim, and he scrambled not to lose his footing on the beam he was balancing on.
Jason ordered his men to get more details out of the guy and then drop him off at the hospital, informing them that he was going to get a head start out to the harbor. He turned around to leave, stopping suddenly directly below where Tim was. Tim held his breath hoping Jason wouldn’t look up.
“Jerry one more thing.”
“What’s up boss?”
Jason tapped his foot, his hands on his hips as he thought. “Make sure you and Georgie do extra sweep of this warehouse before you leave. Feels like the walls have eyes.”
Jerry gave Red Hood a thumbs up as he began to untie their prisoner. “Sure thing.”
Tim waited until Jason’s goons had finished clearing the warehouse before dropping down. He walked towards the center of the room where they’d left a folding chair behind.
“Armatures,” Tim muttered wondering why Red Hood’s men would be so careless. Jason was a stickler for details. He grabbed the chair himself, wincing a little when the stitches at his side were pulled. “Ow, ow fuck,” he muttered.
Tim dropped the chair and clutched his side where he’d been stabbed the day before. As he pulled his hand back blood stained his hand. Alfred was going to kill him.
Tim’s vision blurred as he stared at the metal chair on the ground. He couldn’t tell if he was hallucinating or if he really was seeing a green card stuck to bottom of the seat.
He bent down to pick it up. Bloody fingerprints smeared across the paper.
When his vision cleared, Tim examined the card closer. It looked like one of The Riddler’s with a purple question mark splashed across the front. He flipped it over and just as he expected a riddle was written on the back.
‘Beside the hum of whirring care,
A quieter house holds stories rare.
On Fifth it stands, with letters stacked—
Find H, two rows from bottom tracked.
A tale awaits, spine still and shy—
Its secrets wake when you pass by.’
Tim had so many questions. Did The Riddler expect Red Hood to be here tonight? How had Jason’s men missed this? More importantly, how was he going to tell the others about what he found without getting himself in trouble?
“What the hell Tim? You were benched tonight for a reason.”
Tim shoved his bloody hand and the card in the pocket of his sweatshirt as he turned around to come face to face with an angry Nightwing. His camera dangling around his neck didn’t do him any favors.
“Hey Dick, what are you doing in this part of town? Thought Jason banned everyone from encroaching on his territory.”
Dick was unimpressed by Tim’s attempt at acting like everything was fine. “Funny, cause he was the one who called me.” Tim should have guessed.
“You know it’s actually a good thing that you’re here.” Let the record show that Tim attempted to show Dick the riddle he found. When he pulled his hand out of pocket and Dick saw the blood his brother jumped forward.
“You’re bleeding?” Dick asked but didn’t wait for an answer, pulling Tim’s arm closer and lifting his shirt to get a look at the ripped stitches. “Shit. Oracle, are you there?” He spoke into the comms not listening to Tim’s insistence that it wasn’t a big deal. “Have Alfred ready for us in the cave when we get back. I found Tim and he ripped his stiches again.”
“Come on seriously,” Tim whined.
Dick let go of Tim and crossed his arms looking down on his brother disappointed. “I don’t want to hear it. You can’t keep doing this.”
Tim opened his mouth again to tell Dick he’d go back with him willingly but needed to show him something. He got as far as “it’s fine,” before Dick cut him off.
“No, it’s not fine. Look Tim, we all care about you. No one wants to see you unnecessarily cause yourself harm.” A Grayson guilt trip, just what Tim wanted. He tucked the riddle safely away in his pocket and waited for Dick to finish.
Upon seeing that Tim wasn’t really listening to him, Dick sighed giving up and leading Tim back to the cave on his bike.
“I’m not going to die,” Tim said annoyed after Dick had forced him to let Alfred redo his stitches in the med bay.
“Maybe not this time sir, though it does pain me to see you take so little care for yourself,” Alfred replied as he finished with Tim redid his bandages.
“You can’t keep doing this Tim. It’s not healthy.”
Tim tried to stand, but Dick put a hand on his shoulder keeping him on the cot. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just some ripped stitches I could have fixed it myself.” He would have too if he hadn’t been caught. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll sleep in and take tomorrow off from work.”
Dick nodded. “That would make me feel better, because it isn’t just some ripped stitches. You also missed a dentist appointment today which Alfred so kindly rescheduled for tomorrow. You’ve got to take better care of yourself Tim.”
“Okay,” Tim said because he wasn’t sure what else to say to Dick’s impromptu intervention.
He understood in theory why they’d be upset, but they had a med bay at their disposal for a reason. Injuries were just part of the job and their everyday lives. They were unavoidable.
“Okay? I’m gonna need more than that Tim.”
“I’ll go to the appointment tomorrow.”
Dick’s face fell and Alfred turned around, so Tim was unable to gauge his reaction. “Far too independent,” he heard the butler mutter.
“Alright Tim,” Dick said extending an arm out to the boy. “That’ll have to be a good start. Let’s get you something to eat then bed. You’re far too skinny to be skipping meals.”
His older brother led him upstairs to where Alfred had snacks waiting all the while muttering about how they all needed a vacation.
Tim didn’t remember the bloodied card until he woke up the next morning. He couldn’t go into work, but he could get started at cracking the riddle.