Chapter Text
Batwatching used to be fun.
Used to be filled with smiles and laughter and light. An intrinsic sense of justice and faith that good will persevere. There used to be heroes.
Now there's only the sound of fists and broken bones. Of screams of pain and anger, of vengeance and brutality.
The sound of a father broken beneath the weight of his grief.
Tim is still out there more nights than not, but the constant sound of his shutter has decreased to a few clicks here and there. It doesn't feel right anymore. He doesn't want to capture the rawness of Batman's fall from grace, but… what else could he do?
The first aid kit sits heavily in his backpack, full of supplies he only kind of knows how to use. He's watched YouTube videos and took an online Red Cross first aid class, but face-to-face with crumpled bodies fading from consciousness, a bandage is no replacement for a call to 911.
The operators start to recognize his voice.
It's normal though, right? How else would Batman grieve the loss of his Robin? How is Bruce supposed to move on after the death of Jason Todd? (Tim knows he isn't supposed to know those names, but… oops.)
Slowly, Batman falls further and further into darkness. Picking fights he scrapes through… barely. Doling punishment instead of mere investigation and capture. Hospitalizing people for petty crimes.
His once hero is near unrecognizable.
And Batwatching isn't fun anymore.
911, what's your emergency.
"There's a mugger who is in need of an ambulance," Tim whispers, crawling an inch closer to the edge of the rooftop. "Corner of 87th and Elmore."
Oh, kiddo. I really wish I didn't get another call from you tonight. Are you able to feel a pulse?
"I'm a bit out of reach right now." He flinches as another punch connects with the man's jaw. "The mugger is still being… apprehended."
The operator is quiet for an awkwardly long moment.
Kid. You mean to tell me, that you are currently watching Batman assault a criminal?
"Well, 'assault' is maybe a bit strong of a word…"
Get out of there! It's not safe!
"I can't." His throat tightens around the lump growing inside it. "The mugger is down but Batman isn't stopping. The guy's going to need an ambulance. But Batman is so sad. He's just so sad, miss. I can't leave him."
Honey, you have to take care of yourself first. You can't save anyone if Batman hurts you too. Please! Please leave!
Blows keep raining down. The mugger's face is coated in slick red blood.
Tim knows that he heard something break. Tim knows that the mugger needs help, not later but now. And Tim knows that he is the only person available.
Kid? Are you safe?
"Batman won't hurt me." Tim stands, his mind made up. He takes one second to adjust his scarf, making sure it fully covers the bottom half of his face. "He won't."
Kid!
Tim slips his phone into his pocket and scrambles down the fire escape, heart pounding in his ears. Getting closer, he can hear pained wheezes coming from the mugger, can hear the blood splattering on leather gauntlets.
"Stop!" His tennis shoes slap on the pavement. "Batman, he's down! Stop!"
A pair of white-lens-covered eyes meet his own and then look back down at the mess of a man beneath him. The reaction is instantaneous. The vigilante is a near blur as he leaves the man behind to intercept Tim.
"Don't look." Bloody gloves reach for his hoodie sleeves, hesitating before they can make contact. "Don't look, sweetheart. You don't need to see this."
"He needs help!" Tim forces his way past Batman and kneels by the beaten criminal. "He just stole a purse. Why are you hurting him?"
"He's a criminal."
"He stole a purse!" Tim's backpack hits the ground with a heavy thud, and Tim immediately starts digging for gauze. "That's not a crime that warrants a death sentence!"
"I wasn't…" Batman lets his voice trail off before he clears his throat. "The streets aren't safe for a child at night."
Tim doesn't bother looking up, not when the mugger's eyes slide closed and his heartbeat flutters once before stopping.
He's dying. He's really actually dying.
"Oh god," Tim whispers, before pulling his phone out of his pocket and putting the 911 operator on speakerphone. "Miss, are you still there?"
I'm here! Kiddo, what's going on?
"He has no pulse, starting CPR now." Tim hopes he sounds more in control of the situation than he is, squeaky voice and sweaty palms.
"What?" Batman rushes to the other side, pulling of his own glove to feel for himself. A curse tells Tim that he's come in the same conclusion. He pushes Tim out of the way to do compressions.
The ambulance isn't far, honey. Just a few minutes.
"Please tell them to hurry." His voice is small, panicked.
Thirty compressions, then Batman gives a rescue breath before going back to compressions. A rib cracks, likely breaks, as sirens get louder and louder.
"You need to go."
"No," Batman replies, clipped and terse.
"Vigilantism is technically a crime." Tim uses Batman's next rescue breath to quickly plant the heel of his hand against the mugger's chest and take over compressions. "You shouldn't be here when the cops show up. You'll be in trouble."
"I'm not leaving a child alone on Gotham streets."
"Just go!" Tim snaps, blinking back tears. "The city's lost so much. It needs you. So please just go. This isn't my first time waiting for an ambulance after you leave."
"Who are you?"
But then red and blue flash over the black cowl. Tim glances over his shoulder at the ambulance blocking the alley's entrance, and when he turns back, Batman is gone.
Paramedics jostle Tim out of the way to attend to the mugger, and before they can pay him any attention, he grabs his bag and hightails it out of there himself.
/|\ ^._.^ /|\
The guy survived.
Tim hacked into hospital records to check. The surgery took hours, and he'll be in the ICU for weeks — if not months — but he'll survive. All medical bills paid for by the Martha and Thomas Wayne Foundation, of course. Tim can imagine that the Bat himself also hacked into the hospital, fretting that he crossed his line for the first time.
Batman is losing control.
Tim can't ignore it anymore. Can't rationalize it behind grief or cross his fingers that Bruce will heal on his own. If Tim wasn't there, if Tim hadn't stepped in, Batman would have murdered a petty thief. (I mean, it would be one thing if it was the Joker, but really? Joe Schmo? Not worth it.)
Someone needs to do something, but Gordon's evidently lost Batman's ear or is too scared to say anything. The Justice League isn't stepping in. Dick Grayson is having his own meltdown in Bludhaven. There's no one left.
Except… Tim.
When Tim confronted Batman, it wasn't the fact there was a witness that stopped him. It was doing it in front of a child.
And suddenly, it clicks.
Batman lost his Robin. His guiding light, his moral center, his reminder that kindness and faith exist.
It's all so clear.
Gotham needs Batman. Batman needs a Robin.
And unfortunately, it looks like there's no Robin-shaped kids around except Tim.
So, it will just have to be him.