Chapter Text
His chest heaved, his heart raced, his mind spun as he slumped against the metal wall, sliding down until he felt the solid ground under him. His head lolled to the side, thick, dark hair matted with sticky red, tangled in clumps of blood from some gash he couldn’t assess without help.
No one was here to help him this time. A soft groan escaped his pale lips as he tried to lift his arm, mumbling to himself about calling Batman, because he knew he wasn’t in any condition to use the cycle.
Static greeted him when he activated his comlink. He cursed under his breath, letting his arm drop back to his side, the leather on his gloves scraping against the concrete beneath him. The adhesive holding his domino mask to his face was beginning to itch and peel, so he reached up and tore the fabric from his eyes, gritting his teeth. What was he supposed to do now?
He let out a puff of breath and began checking himself over, baby blue eyes lidded heavily as his fingers traced over the throbbing wound on his leg. He winced, a sharp jolt of pain surging through his body at the contact.
“Shit…” he breathed the word, barely a whisper. He managed to move his head enough to look, though the instant he did, he regretted it, nausea bubbling up, his stomach churning. A shard of glass from one of the windows he’d been thrown through was lodged firmly into his thigh, nearly as thick and wide as his forearm and long as the tip of his middle finger to his wrist. Only a small bit was sticking out of the skin, and he knew the wound must be deep due to the growing puddle of blood he was now sitting in.
He tried the comlink again, groaning at the static, wishing that he’d listened, that he hadn’t gone off by himself, that Batman were there and that he hadn’t let his guard down…
But wishing wasn’t going to fix this. He was going to have to think of something, and fast.
Heavy footfalls made his head snap up, a reflex that, at that moment, he really didn’t want to have. He winced, black pervading the edges of his vision.
He used one hand to hold the wound in his leg, pulling himself with his other arm, a soft whimper of pain leaving his lips. He had to get behind something, fast, before those drug dealers found him again…
Gunshots made him flinch, certain he was going to feel lead ripping through his chest.
A beat passed. Then two. He was still breathing.
Cautiously, he looked up again, breathing shallow, body trembling. Someone was walking toward him – someone with guns, wearing a mask.
He clenched his teeth. No way was he going down crawling away from his attacker. Limbs shaking, Robin tried to pull himself to his feet. A cry of pain was ripped from his throat when he put his weight on his injured leg, and suddenly, strong hands steadied him, keeping him from falling. He looked up, feeling naked in front of this masked, gun-wielding stranger without his domino mask on.
As if the man could sense his discomfort, he carefully set Dick down, and then released the clasps on the mask/helmet that concealed his face. Dark hair fell over the tops of his ears, a smug smile on his pale face.
“So, Bats got a new bird, huh?” his voice was smooth, with a twinge of danger that made Dick swallow thickly, “pretty cute.” The man knelt before him, grabbing his leg none-too-gently, causing him to yelp in surprise and pain as rough, leather-clad fingers traced the glass. “And of course, he’s not here to clean up his own mess. Looks like I’m stuck with you.” He rolled his eyes, “Fuckin’ figures.”
Dick opened his mouth, wanting to ask questions, but the man lifted him into his arms before a single syllable could be uttered, replacing his once-eloquent and planned out sentence with an undignified squeak.
When the boy caught his breath, he looked up at his dark-haired savior, tilting his head, even as his vision faded.
“Wh-who are you?” his speech was slurred, eyelids heavy.
“Stay with me kid.”
“T-tell me your name…”
The man sighed, shaking his head. He was silent for a moment, and Dick could feel himself losing consciousness by the time he heard the man’s voice again.
“Jason. My name’s Jason.”
~~~
Jason sighed, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t intended on saving the kid. He really hadn’t. But something had gotten him. He didn’t know if it was the boy’s determination to go down fighting, or the hopeful look in his eyes when he realized that Jason wasn’t there to hurt him, but whatever it was had landed him with an unwanted houseguest whose head was currently in his lap.
He didn’t know why he’d decided to take the kid back to his apartment. It was a stupid move – Batman probably had a bazillion trackers on Robin’s suit – but it was too late to do anything about it at this point. The baby bird was lying on his couch, passed out in his underwear and one of Jason’s t-shirts, with fifteen stitches in his leg. He had patched up most of the kid’s more serious injuries. He had a wet wash rag pressed to the bleeding area on Robin’s head – he’d never been great with head injuries, and he especially didn’t want to deal with it until the kid was conscious, could tell him where it actually hurt. Because it seemed like it was bleeding…well…everywhere.
The Red Hood rested his arm on the couch, fist supporting his chin as he took in the teenager’s appearance. Dark, thick hair, peaches-and-cream skin with a slightly bronzed tone…the kid wasn’t bad looking. Romani, maybe? He was tiny, limbs thin and long and a small torso, obviously more built for acrobatics than fist fighting. But from what he’d seen before the kid got thrown through the plate-glass window, he wasn’t bad at the latter, either.
He could see why Bruce picked him. Agile, intelligent, determined…he had all the qualities that Jason had had as Robin plus ten.
Jason’s brow furrowed a bit at the sudden stab of bitterness he felt toward the new Robin. It wasn’t his fault; obviously, if he’d known that there’d been a Robin before him he would have recognized Jason straightaway. He supposed that it was some sentimental bullshit leftover from his brief time with Bruce.
As if he needed that right now.
He knew who the kid was, of course. Knowing that Bruce Wayne was Batman made it pretty easy, once he’d done just a little digging. Richard Grayson, an ex-circus performer, orphaned at the age of nine when his parents had an unfortunate “accident” on the trapeze.
From what Jason understood, the kid almost died with them. He’d been about to take that leap.
He wondered if it was a blessing or a curse for Dickie that he hadn’t.
Jason’s attention snapped back into the here and now as Dick stirred in his lap, a soft groan bubbling from his slightly-parted lips. Dark, full lashes fluttered open slowly, and brilliant blue stunned Jason for a moment before he shook it off and gave the kid an awkward smile.
“Welcome back, sleeping beauty.”
Dick blinked, trying to clear his vision. He started to sit up, to look around and figure out where he was, but Jason put a hand on his chest to keep him down.
“No way, kid, you took a pretty nasty blow to the head,” Jason shook his head, “you’re staying right here until we figure out how bad it was.”
The boy’s brow furrowed slightly, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
“Where am I?” his voice was slightly hoarse, “who are you?”
“Well hello to you, too.”
“…hi, how ya doin, how’s the family, we should get lunch sometime.” Dick gave him a slight smirk, “now will you tell me where I am?”
Jason laughed – he couldn’t help it. Even in such a weird state, this kid was sassy as hell.
“Downtown Gotham. Y’know, run down, rat infested hellhole? Probably not the five-star rooms you’re used to.”
“Eh, no big deal. I’ll live without the cushy pillows. But room service better still be included.”
The older man smirked a bit, “We’ll see.”
“I’ll take it.”
Jason put his hand on the boy’s forehead, feeling for a fever. Pretty normal, if not a little warm. Nothing to be worried about.
“How’re you feelin’, kid?”
Dick yawned, rubbing one eye, wincing a bit with the movement, “tired…sore…”
“That’s pretty normal after, y’know, being thrown through a plate-glass window,” Jason agreed, smirking a bit, “lightheaded? Dizzy? Nauseous?” He shook his head, and Jason nodded, “good. That means you probably don’t have a concussion.”
The boy gave him a crooked smile, “Well that’s good news.”
“Good news for you, maybe. Too bad I’ll have to listen to you chatter the whole time I’m nursing you back to health, baby bird.”
“Being chatty is part of my charm.” Dick reasoned. He froze, his hand flying up to his face, searching for the latex of his mask. He squeaked in surprise, blue eyes widening, “where’s-“
“Relax, kid, I’m not gonna tell anyone who you are,” Jason sighed, “I’ve kept Bruce’s secret this long, you’re fine.”
Robin stared up at Jason with a mix of confusion and awe on his face, “you…you already know?”
He nodded, “used to be in your uniform.”
Jason didn’t even have to look at Dick to know what emotions were going through his eyes. Bewilderment, amazement, betrayal, upset, distrust…
“What are you talking about?” his voice was shaking a little, slightly suspicious. Jason shook his head.
“Not now, kid, you’re gonna bleed all over me if I don’t go grab another rag for your head.”
Dick frowned a bit, but nodded, wincing a little as Jason lifted him off his lap and gently placed his injured head back on the couch cushion.
Jason mentally kicked himself. Why had he told the kid? No reason for him to get involved, none at all.
He supposed he just couldn’t believe that Bruce had actually taken in another Robin, after what happened to him…he clenched his teeth, hands shaking in anger. It had almost happened again, another kid had almost died under Bruce’s watch, and where was the big bad Bat himself?
Nowhere to be found.
Would Bruce have killed the people who hurt Dickie, even if they’d succeeded in killing the little bird?
Not a chance. And more people would have died, because Bruce couldn’t cross that line. Not even for his son. Not even after he made that mistake once before.
Jason sighed, running a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath, trying to cool off. He needed a smoke. But there was a fifteen year old kid bleeding all over his couch.
~~~
Dick’s vision was a little hazy by the time Jason got back into the living room, but he really, really wanted to know what the older man had been talking about.
“Were you really Robin before me?” he asked, cursing the slight tremor in his voice. He heard Jason curse under his breath, and guessed that he’d been hoping Dick would forget about that conversation by the time he got back.
“Yeah. But we’ll talk about this later, y’know, when you’re not bleeding all over my couch.”
The boy sighed, but nodded, “yeah, okay. I’m holding you to that, though.”
Jason chuckled softly, nodding in agreement and pressing the fresh, cold rag to Dick’s head. The boy hissed in pain, trying to jerk away from the touch, but Jason held him fast, mumbling something about it being the only way to be sure he could be sure it was covered until Dick could tell him what hurt.
My head, Dick wanted to say, my head hurts, duh, but he couldn’t. The edges of his vision were beginning to blur, his mind swimming, and Jason’s voice was muffled by the blood rushing in his ears. He still had so many questions…
“Get some sleep, kid,” he could barely make out the man speaking, “we’ll talk in the morning, if Daddy Bats hasn’t come to get you by then.”
Dick could only close his eyes and let himself be swallowed by darkness.