Chapter Text
“Damn,” Harvey said, stepping into the room.
“Mmm,” Parker said. She was new, a transfer from some place in Delaware and cold as ice. She didn’t seem fazed by the sheer amount of blood in the room.
Neighbor had reported a loud thump to the landlord. Landlord had come in, seen the body, the blood, and a figure fleeing through the window. She called it in. And Harvey was the lucky guy who got to come. With Parker of all people. Lady creeped him out.
The victim had been a woman. She was naked and sprawled across the bathroom floor, blood soaking through the mat and leaking across the tiles. More blood was watered down in the tub. There were streaks of blood leading to the open window, probably the person the landlord’d seen running. Maybe they’d get lucky, and some of their blood would be there too.
Parker crouched by the body. She gave a long considering look. “We don’t need to be here. This isn’t a murder.”
“Oh yeah?” Harvey didn’t disagree, but it wasn’t up to them yet.
“These cuts are clearly self-inflicted. Not our department.”
“Coroner gets to decide that.”
Parker glared at him.
Harvey held up his hands. “I ain’t disagreein’. But folks don’t usually drag themselves out from where all their blood is.”
“Point. One that can be amounted to the figure Mrs. Landau saw fleeing. They probably pulled her out.”
Harvey nodded agreement and stepped – carefully – around the body to peer out the window. It was pretty small. Attempted savior or culprit or wannabe something would have to be pretty small. There was a ledge going around towards the fire escape. “I’m gonna take a look outside. You wanna--?”
“I’ll talk with Mrs. Landau.” Parker nodded.
Harvey loped over to the next room where the fire escape access was. These windows would be much better if they were a little bigger, he thought, but squeezed on through and onto the rickety fire escape. On the way down, he saw a short figure leaning against a wall. “Hey!” he called.
The figure jumped and bolted. They were a streak of red running down the alley, a loose jacket billowing behind them. Harvey followed, footfalls making iron clangs against the fire escape. The alley was a dead end. The running figure looked like they were contemplating scaling the wall when Harvey came up behind them.
“Listen! You’re not in any trouble yet, just—”
The figure jumped and turned around. And – Oh shit. Harvey knew who it was. Not a culprit of anything then. But that didn’t mean no problems. Robin held himself in a fighting stance that looked off even to Harvey’s eyes. He was shaking badly and absolutely covered in blood. He looked in Harvey’s direction without recognition.
Not good. Harvey held up his hands. Robin watched him warily, fists wavering in front of him. “’S’alright, kid, it’s just me.” He took a cautious step closer. “Robin?”
The lenses in Robin’s mask flickered. Maybe a blink. In a voice that oddly seemed too loud for the moment, he asked, “Bullock?”
Ok, good. “Yeah, it’s me. You wanna put those away?”
Robin very slowly lowered his fists.
Harvey closed the distance of between them. Jesus, the kid was absolutely soaked. No wonder he hadn’t recognized him at first; the cape wasn’t yellow, it was red. Diluted blood dripped into a puddle at Robin’s feet. Harvey would not call himself the most tactful person, but he was gonna have to do for now. “Any of that yours?” he asked, gesturing with his chin.
Robin looked down at himself and flinched. Oh great job, Bullock. “No.” Again, his voice was too clear for the state of him.
“Are you ok?” Stupid question.
Robin hesitated, and, for a second, the only sound was the dripping. Then his expression crumbled, and he shook his head violently. “I couldn’t save her.” His voice cracked. “I tried. But she – she had lost too much blood, and it was every – I tried to help her!”
Harvey was not, as a rule, a hugger. He didn’t go much in for touchy feely and felt that a solid shoulder pat was good in 99% of cases. This wasn’t one. He pulled the kid in, and Robin wrapped his arms around him, shaking like a leaf in a tornado, fists twisting into the back of Harvey’s shirt. His head was squished into his chest. “Ya couldn’t’a done anything.” He pictured the woman’s body on the floor. “She was gone when ya got there.”
Tears and blood were soaking into his shirt. Robin let out a quiet sob, and Harvey tightened his arms around him. They stayed like that for a while.
“Come on, let’s get outta here,” Harvey said. If they stayed there any longer, Parker would come looking, and she’d want to drag the kid over to the station to make statements, not caring that Robin and Batman were known to dissipate into the atmosphere as soon as they were herded into a police station they didn’t want to be in. Kid didn’t need that right now.
Robin stayed tucked under his arm as Harvey led him over to his car. Pulling his jacket closed over the surely-blood-stained shirt, he darted back to the apartment building to let Parker know he’d be following up on something for a while and sped away towards his apartment. He doubted that Robin would tell him where he and the Bat actually lived. People said it was a cave, but that couldn’t possibly be true. Where would there even be caves in Gotham? They couldn’t be commuting from the flippin’ boonies.
Kid was unnervingly quiet on the ride there. It didn’t suit him. Then again, neither did the Carrie look. He was in his own head. Harvey didn’t blame him. He was so self-assured and untouchable besides working with Batman that it was easy to forget he was just a human being. And a kid. And sometimes, the things that they saw in Gotham were awful. They’d get to anyone. Even Robin.
At the apartment, Harvey realized pretty quickly that he didn’t own any clothing that Robin wouldn’t be swimming in, but he’d just have to deal with that because he wasn’t leaving him dripping across Gotham in winter. He settled for a shirt that would basically be a dress and an old pair of sweatpants that shrunk in the wash. “Catch.” He tossed them to Robin and pointed him in the direction of the bathroom.
Robin gave a grateful nod and disappeared inside.
~~~
Jason let his head rest against the wall of the little shower and the water pounded at his chest. He wanted to stay there and let it erode him.
Too late. He was always too late.
Being Robin was supposed to mean being on time. It was supposed to mean saving people. Helping them. Getting to them before it was too late. It was supposed to mean no one being like his mom again.
Maybe that was unrealistic. The day that happened, that everybody was saved, and he and Bruce could hang up their cape and go home was a long way away if it ever came.
Red water swirled around the drain. It was in his hair and he wasn’t even sure how it got there.
He didn’t know the woman’s name. She was hurting and needed someone to help her, and he didn’t know her name, and he couldn’t save her. He couldn’t even know her name. That was a basic thing, right? Remembering her? He wasn’t gonna forget her any time soon, but he should know who she was. Someone should.
The blood was on his hands and under his fingernails. He took her pulse and tried to give CPR. She was weirdly warm from the bath water. It wasn’t enough. He turned up the hot water but didn’t feel it.