#jason is collateral damage here and is willing to throw down because of it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blancheludis · 3 years

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@whumptober2021 Day 4: Taken Hostage / Pushed / “Do you trust me?”

Fandom: Batman Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd Tags: Hurt Tim Drake, Kidnapping, Protective Jason Todd, Accidental Brother Acquisition, Jason is Robin Words: 7.826

Summary: “Batman will come for you, right?” Tim only realizes that is the wrong thing to ask when Robin’s face falls.

“I don’t need Batman to get out of here,” Robin insists with a stubborn tension in his shoulders. “I’m just saying we don’t have to wait.”

Waiting is the thing Tim does best. For the perfect picture opportunity, the best angle. For his parents to come home. He can sit tight for hours and days and become all but invisible.

But Tim agrees anyway. Why wouldn’t he? Robin is a hero. His hero. And he’s lucky they were kidnapped together. Now they only have to get out this cell in one piece.

---

The shove comes out of nowhere.

Tim has gotten good at navigating Gotham’s rooftops nearly blind, a camera pressed to his face. He has also learned to make sure nobody is around to catch him. What he does is not strictly illegal, but he is taking pictures of vigilantes at night and enough people take offence at that. He is not wearing a mask himself, but he still cannot be found out here. His parents are already not happy that he has not given up photography – a mere waste of time that will neither get him into a prestigious college nor bring the Drake name any profits – even without knowing about his nightly activities.

The roof was empty when Tim climbed up on it to get a better angle of Robin. It is a rare enough occurrence that Robin is out alone without the protective shadow of Batman hovering nearby and Tim does not want to miss a minute of it. So, he is crouching on the roof, his camera trained on Robin, when someone appears suddenly next to him and shoves him over the edge.

A sound escapes Tim’s lips, half a gasp due to the force of the unexpected push, and in the brief second he is hovering in the air, he can see Robin look up searchingly – and then he is falling.

Tim has a lot of experience with falling, but he will never get used to that navel-jerking feeling of tumbling into the unknown, those first moments of blind panic at having lost the ground beneath his feet. He clings to his camera, curls like he was taught to, and hopes fervently that he will not break anything. Bruises are easy to hide and something he has dealt with dozens of times before. Broken bones, however, need a bit more than his first-aid kit has to offer – and cause more questions than he cares to answer.

The falling is over as soon as it began. He was not too high up but the impact is still painful. The crack of plastic thunders in his ears and that is what throws his momentum, makes him tense too much as he tries to save his camera, and he feels his ankle bend.

Pain flares up, sudden and hot, before he comes to a panting halt on the pavement, a sharp throbbing in his foot and right side. He just lies there for a long moment, afraid to move his ankle but glad that his lungs still work as they are supposed to. The roof above him is empty. Nobody is looking down after him.

But – Tim did not just fall from nothing, did not trip. Somebody was there and pushed him. Just as he is sitting up, determined to have a look at his camera and then his foot before he gets out of here, he hears footsteps coming closes.

“Well, what do we have here?” a muffled voice asks.

Tim whirls around, but all he can see is a fist flying towards his face. And then nothing.

---

Tim comes to slowly. That in itself is a warning sign that something is wrong. He has a rather conflicted relationship with sleep and he does not slumber. Either he is awake or not. This in-between is strange, making his thoughts all sluggish.

He blinks, his vision curiously blurry, and wonders about the cracks in the ceiling – and then the pain hits. A low, insistent pounding like drum beats fills his head, growing worse with every breath he takes as if the miniscule movement alone is aggravating it.

With a rush, Tim remembers what happened. The rooftop. Being shoved. The cracking of his camera.

He shoots upright, battling the way the room spins before his vision settles. Bile rises in his throat but he swallows carefully, unwilling to give into the panic rising inside him. Perhaps his father’s lessons will have their use, after all.

His ankle throbs, but Tim ignores it for now in order to find out where he is, because this is somewhere inside instead of outside in the streets, and he definitely did not make it home.

The room is small and bare. Cracks run through the grey cement covering the ground and walls and ceiling. There is no window, but a lone light bulb dangles in the middle of the room, offering a bit of light. The ground is stained in places, the origin of which Tim does not want to think too closely about. No furniture, just a heavy metal door and Tim himself being cuddled into a corner.

This is bad. If his father finds out what he was doing, why someone managed to snatch him right off the street – he hopes this is not a play for ransom. His parents are out of the country and the last thing he and his father did before they left were yell at each other. Tim is not at all sure they are willing to pay a single dollar to get him back. And if so, likely only to preserve the family name.

Of course, Tim does not want to think about what other reasons there are for someone to kidnap him. Children go missing from Gotham’s streets every day, and only a few of them are found again. Mostly, they do not have anything to look for them. Tim does not, either.

The pounding in his head grows worse. With some effort, Tim pushes the growing panic down. Before he gives up on himself, he should try to find out more.

Carefully, Tim gets to his feet. The room starts spinning again, which is rather worrying, but it snaps into sudden focus when he puts some weight on his right ankle. A whimper breaks over his lips, echoing hauntingly in the empty room, as he sinks back to the ground.

Don’t be broken, he thinks as he pushes up the leg of his trousers. The ankle is swollen and the pain intensifies when he applies pressure. When he is careful, though, he can move it in every direction and he cannot feel any bones obviously out of place. That does not have to mean anything, he knows. Ever since he started following the masks around, he read up on first-aid, aware of how many things can go wrong. Hopefully it is just a sprain, although that does not make it any less painful, and it might still mess his leg up for good.

Before Tim can convince himself to get back up and try again, he hears a key being shoved in the lock and then the door is yanked open, making a terrible screeching noise that grates in his ears. The light outside is much brighter, stabbing Tim’s eyes so he cannot make out much of anything as he scrambles backwards, trying to get away from whoever has entered the room. Something big is thrown in and then the door slams shut again without explanation.

The something is a person clad in yellow and green and –

“Robin.” Tim’s voice breaks halfway through the name. His mouth is suddenly dry and his thoughts come to an abrupt halt.

This has just become so much worse. Someone did not just push Tim off a roof just because they could or for ransom, but they got Robin, too. Either Robin wanted to help and was overpowered, or they were after him and Tim is just collateral damage. Either way, he is doomed. Because he is not hard to catch, crawling around the city at night to take pictures of vigilantes. But Robin is in an entirely different league.

Robin looks up at him, eyes wide behind the mask, then untangles himself into a more dignified position even though his suit remains rumpled. “Oh good, you’re awake.”

Tim does not know what could possibly be good about that if this is the reality he woke up to.

“What happened?” he hates how weak he sounds, how young. His father would have his hide for that – but his father is not here because Tim had to do something forbidden and get himself caught. He breathes. In and out. In and out.

Robin is here. That means not all is lost. If nothing else is certain, Tim knows that Batman will come for Robin and they will not leave him behind, even if they find out about the pictures. They are the good guys. They might tell his parents about it – which will undoubtedly not end well for him either – but they will not leave him to die in this place.

“These assholes want me to help them out.” Robin makes a rude gesture at the door, then looks a bit sheepish at Tim. “Sorry you got caught in the crossfire.”

A weight drops off Tim’s shoulders. It is not his fault that Robin was caught. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it does not sit right with him, still.

“They went after me first,” Tim says, remembering clearly that Robin was still free and unbothered while Tim was already falling. He might have even gotten it on camera, that last, searching look around at Tim’s yell. But his camera is not here. They might have left it broken on the ground when they took Tim. It is unlikely he will ever see it again.

It is stupid to be bothered by that. It is only a camera and he can afford to buy a new one. But it is the one thing that brings him joy.

“Yeah.” Robin runs a hand through his hair, putting it into complete disarray. “You’re supposed to be my motivation.”

Oh. “They took me hostage to make you help them?” Tim is no stranger to being pulled into other people’s games. His parents’ business partners do that all the time, either hoping to gain something for the company or to get some advantage over his parents. It is almost familiar, to be used for his worth to other people instead on his own merit.

“Seems like it,” Robin says and sounds apologetic. He is also watching Tim very closely as if he expects him to have a breakdown. But Tim has been taught to appear calm even if he feels anything but.

“That’s ridiculous. You don’t even know me.”

Tim should be glad. If all goes well and they do not die here, his parents might never find out what happened. He does not have to tell Robin his last name. He is just a nobody who had bad luck. Once they are out of here, he can just vanish. If they get out of here.

Robin cocks his head to the side, concern crossing his face. “You’re a civilian,” he explains then puffs out his chest and points at his suit. “That’s what this whole thing is about. Protecting people.”

Perhaps people who do not stalk them and take pictures without asking, who do not put themselves in danger constantly just because they are hoping for the right shot.

But Tim believes him anyway. He was raised by a cynic but he knows Robin. Knows him through endless nights of watching him do the right thing, of putting his life on the line for others.

“What do they want you to do?” Tim asks, changing the topic without much finesse.

He is also not sure he wants to know the answer to that. What if they are asking something terrible of Robin, like killing somebody. Tim cannot be the reason for Robin to do that.

But Robin scoffs, caught between amusement and annoyance. “Rob a bank or five.”

That is surprisingly mundane. Banks are robbed every day without the help of vigilantes. Some even successfully. “What do they need you for then?”

To his surprise, Robin pouts. “I could totally rob a bank, and probably better than them, too” he says, entirely missing the point.

Despite their situation, Tim finds himself grinning at Robin’s offended tone. He imagines him as some kind of modern Robin Hood, robbing a bank and then making it rain money right outside of it.

Then he sobers. They are still locked up in some cell and he has a busted ankle and a possible concussion. “Well, you shouldn’t do it.”

Robin’s expression grows serious, too. “They said they’d hurt you if I don’t,” he says in that same tone Tim’s father does when he is testing Tim, fishing for a reaction.

Now it is Tim’s turn to be offended. “You’re Robin,” he exclaims.

Robin nods but does not give an answer. Instead, he leans forwards, seemingly unconcerned with their situation. “What’s your name?”

Tim could lie. He is good at it and it would surely save him a lot of trouble. But it is not every day that one meets their hero and despite the circumstances, he wants this interaction between them to be real.

“Tim,” he says, hesitating long enough to make Robin frown. He still holds his last name back. That does not have a place here, and there is a small chance that Robin knows their next-door neighbours are called Drake and have a son named Tim, even though his life is certainly interesting enough to not bother with who is living down the street.

“Do you trust me, Tim?” Robin asks, his voice gentler now as if he does not want to spook Tim. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

With a start, Tim realizes Robin thinks he is afraid. Well, he is, but for the entirely wrong reasons. They are in a bad situation but it could be so much worse. For one, Tim could be here alone.

He nods because that seems like the thing to do. He is cold and in pain and his hero might be forced to commit a crime to keep him alive. While he is aware of all of that, he can barely touch those thoughts, like his head is underwater but he is seeing lights on the surface, jumping out of reach whenever he reaches for them.

Tim is fine. Beneath the mask, Robin is just a kid, too, and Tim will not make it harder on him by whining. Or panicking. That will not do either of them any good.

“Batman will come for you, right?” It is a mistake to ask, Tim notices that right away when Robin’s shoulders stiffen.

He does not understand. Batman and Robin are a team. They have each other’s back and, of course, one would come running when the other is in danger. Right?

“I don’t need Batman to get out of here,” Robin says, crossing his arms in front of him only to let them fall again a moment later.

That certainly puts a crack in Tim’s picture-perfect idea of his favourite vigilantes. He knows better than most that things are seldom as calm and shiny as they appear on the surface, but Batman and Robin – nothing is supposed to taint that.

“I’m sorry,” he says because he is not sure what else to do. His mother taught him that other people’s weaknesses are there to be exploited, but he does not want to be that kind of person.

Robin looks at him, then sighs. “No, you’re right.” He sounds conflicted, making him sound even younger. Like that, he is more human, mask or not, but that is not helpful in the situation they are in. “I’m just saying we don’t have to wait.”

Waiting is the thing Tim does best. For the perfect picture opportunity, the best angle. For his parents to come home. He can sit tight for hours and days and become all but invisible.

“I can’t fight,” Tim points out, afraid that he will be the reason Robin gets hurt, after all. He had some training, bullies and his family name made that a necessity, but he is no Robin, no hero.

“You don’t have to,” Robin says, full of conviction. “I’ll protect you.”

Tim wants to ask how but he has learned that too many questions only make things harder, at times. Instead, he offers, “You could pretend to be me.”

He is not sure where it comes from, but a plan is forming in front of his eyes. Tim is a bit smaller than Robin and a lot scrawnier, but people tend to look only at the suit. And they only needed a few moments to jump the kidnappers anyway. As soon as an actual fight begins, the ruse will be up.

“They’ll notice,” Robin scoffs. He does not quite dismiss Tim, but Tim knows that tone very well. It is hard not to let it get to him because some part of him desperately wants to impress Robin, but he has practice with that, too. “And what good would that bring us anyway?”

“We’ll swap clothes,” Tim explains, shamefully eager at the very idea of touching the suit. “They don’t think I’m a danger, so when they come back, they’ll go right for the suit and ignore you. So, you can take them by surprise.”

It is a good plan, or as good as they will likely get. They are locked in a windowless room that does not stop spinning before Tim’s eyes, and only one of them is really capable of getting them out if Robin does not want to wait for Batman – and Tim does not want to either, yearning for some pain meds, an ice pack and his bed. Taking the bad guys by surprise is their only chance, really. Otherwise, they are simply two children sitting in a trap.

“I’m Robin,” Robin insists as if Tim has forgotten that. As if, in addition to taking his clothes, he suggested stripping him of the title as well. “I can’t take off the mask.”

There is that, true. Tim opens his mouth to say Robin can keep the mask, that they will just keep their heads down until it is too late for the kidnappers to realize the wrong boy is in the suit. What falls from his lips instead is, “I know who you are.”

Robin moves quicker than Tim’s probably concussed brain can follow and then he is right in from of Tim, shoving him against the cold, unforgiving wall. The impact knocks the air out of Tim’s lungs and, before he can react, Robin’s arm is pressed against his throat, not quite choking him but a definite threat.

“What did you say?” Robin growls in a clear imitation of Batman, a few decades too young. It still causes a shiver to run down Tim’s back.

“I’m sorry,” he pushes out, only to have Robin increase the pressure. How did things go so wrong so quickly? He just – masks, secret identities. Tim has gotten so comfortable with following them around that he forgot nobody is supposed to know who they are. “I live next door to you,” he blurts out, not caring anymore about keeping his last name secret.

For the first time since waking up in this room, he is afraid instead of just panicked. When he started following Batman and Robin around, he knew he could never let them catch him. They might be the good guys, but they do have their identities to protect, and he has seen countless times what Batman does to the people that cross him. He did not even try to find out who they are. It just made sense.

“I haven’t told anyone,” Tim croaks, growing desperate when Robin does nothing but stare at him, never relenting his hold. “I won’t.”

“How?”

Tim whimpers when Robin shoves him again, aggravating his headache. This is not supposed to happen. He never thought Robin would like him, really, the kid with stalkerish tendencies, but he did not think meeting his hero would go quite like this either.

“I’m running BatWatch.”

That stupid blog that started as a challenge to himself but has quickly become the centre of Tim’s life, uploading pictures and commentary on Gotham’s very own vigilante bats. All complimentary, of course, because they protect the city and certain journalists just do not know what they are writing. Tim just tries to put the Bats back into a more positive light. Sometimes, it makes him feel like a hero in his own right. That is his secret identity.

After a long, tense moment, Robin’s hold loosens, even if he does not take the arm away. His expression is still closed off. “You? The blog has been around for years.”

Tim takes pride in that. It grew from a few blurry pictures every other week to detailed articles. People like to complain about Batman, and Tim just wants to remind people of all the good the vigilantes are doing.

“You’ve been Robin for years,” Tim shoots back, voice still more of a croak from the shock. He is not sure the danger is over.

Robin sits back. His hands are still on Tim but not quite as threatening anymore. That can change again any moment, Tim knows, so he clears his throat and just breathes.

“You know who Batman is and you never told anybody?” The incredulity in Robin’s tone is insulting, but Tim guesses a certain paranoia is part of the job.

“You’re heroes,” Tim exclaims and winces inwardly. That made him sound entirely too young. There is no hiding he is still a kid but he does not have to act immaturely, too.

“And you want me to believe it is a mere coincidence that you were in the right place to be kidnapped along with me?” Robin says, sarcasm dripping from his tongue, which Tim does not fully hear because his mind is stuck on right place. “How do I know you’re not working with them?”

The accusation hurts worse than the shove earlier, although it leaves him just as trapped. “I would never,” Tim says and glares in the best imitation of his mother as he can manage.

Feeling, cornered, he bats Robin’s hands away with what little strength he has left, pain and disappointment having taken their toll. To his surprise, Robin lets him go. He gets up and ignores the way his vision swims and the pain in his ankle flares up. There is nowhere to go. The room is still bare and the door is still locked. But he needs to get away from Robin and his accusations, so he limps to the far corner and sinks rather ungraciously back to the floor.

Somewhere in the depth of his mind, he can hear his father laugh at his naivety. What did he think would happen? That Robin would be impressed? That he would expect a scrawny teenager to be good for anything? He had been dreaming about meeting Robin for years but – well, he should have listened better to what his parents say about dreams.

“You’re hurt,” Robin says, sounding sheepish.

Tim glances over his shoulder and sees that Robin stood up, too, but he thankfully does not come closer. In fact, he looks a bit lost, all suited up with no way to escape.

“It’s nothing,” Tim mutters, looking back at the wall. A crack runs through it right in front of his face. He imagines digging here and finding nothing but more cement. A grave in the middle of the city.

“You were limping.”

What does that have to do with anything? “Just a strain.” And definitely a concussion. He should better not mention that, he is already enough of a liability.

“We can’t get out of here if you can’t walk,” Robin says, sounding almost agitated, but when Tim looks at him it does not show on his face.

So, this is how it is. He knows this game very well. “Then you had better leave me behind. That’s safer anyway if I’m one of them.”

That cutting tone is from his mother. Any other time, he would hate how much of his parents he recognizes in himself, but it does come in handy every now and then. Although it does not bring him any satisfaction to watch Robin flinch. Tim is the faulty one here, the obstacle to overcome. It is better to just take him out of the equation.

He does not want to be left behind, of course. Chances are low that the kidnappers will simply let him go when they do not need him anymore. And he has no particular desire to find out where Gotham’s lost children end up.

“I’m – I won’t leave you here.” Robin has come closer, looking down at Tim with a seriousness that hurts.

Tim smiles, but it feels all wrong, hollow yet sharp at the edges. It should not surprise him that he does not measure up. Just because he looks up to Robin does not mean that Robin will find anything worthwhile when looking back. Something about him always turns people away, he is never quite enough.

“They won’t need me once you’re gone,” Tim points out and does not say that he is very aware that this will likely end with a bullet in his head. It is not like he can change that. He is tired and, for once, wants nothing more than to go home – without putting Robin in more danger.

Silence stretches between them for a long moment in which Tim thinks he really is doomed. Then Robin says, “Come,” his jaw set with new determination. “I’ll need your clothes.”

Tim does not move, even as Robin begins to take off the suit, no trace of hesitation left in his movements. In the privacy of his mind, Tim has longed for years to wear the Robin colours. But not like this, not here, not when the real Robin has already made his judgement of Tim.

“What about the mask?” Tim asks quietly, intent on reminding Robin what a stupid idea this is.

“I can’t let them see my face, so I’ll keep it on,” Robin says matter-of-factly, as if this very problem did not end in a physical altercation only minutes before. “But you can stay with your back to the door and I’ll jump them before they can notice anything.”

That is what Tim thought they should do earlier, but now he is full of doubt. Turning his back to the door alone fills him with uneasiness. He might not be a fighter, but it feels wrong to serve himself on a silver platter, too. And, since Tim is the hostage in this scenario, what if they do not go for Robin, which would squander their element of surprise. What if Robin will not be able to deal with whoever is coming for them? What if there are too many opponents? What if –

“Hey.” Suddenly, Robin is right in front of Tim, one hand on Tim’s shoulder and blatant concern on his face. “I’ll get you out of here. I promise.”

Tim takes a deep breath, concentrates on the ground beneath him and the warmth from Robin’s hand and even the way his ankle throbs. The situation is not ideal, but he is alive and mostly intact. He is not alone.

He believes Robin. What would life be if he could not trust his hero anymore? Robin helps people. It is his job.

But Tim has been following Batman and Robin around for a bit too long. He has seen them share street food during long patrols. He has watched Robin jump around in circles around Batman when bored and limp home after a bad fight. Beneath the mask, Tim knows very well, is just a boy not much older than him. Jason Todd, child of Gotham’s darkest streets, full of foul words and endless bravado.

This is not a heroic story. Tim is not behind the camera taking pictures. He is not a bystander, sequestered safely away on a rooftop. This is real. And Tim might have dreamt of himself as Robin – or at least as Robin’s sidekick – but not like this. He is acutely aware of how inadequate he is.

And yet, Tim nods. If he knows anything, it is how to pretend, how to keep his head held high. His hands, when he unzips his jacket, are shaking. If Robin notices, he does not comment on it. That makes it easier, if only slightly.

It is hard not to stare as the Robin suit lands piece by piece on the ground, rumpled and nearly unassuming, just flimsy looking material in too bright colours. The shaking gets worse as Tim reaches for it, but he does not allow himself to hesitate. It is now or never.

The suit does not quite fit. Tim is too small and too scrawny. Worse is the way his skin burns, touching something forbidden. He guesses he will not have those dreams of being Robin anymore, considering how miserable he feels while pretending for even just a moment.

“You look good,” Rob- Jason says. Because in Tim’s clothes he looks altogether too young, just another boy stranded in a bad situation. Tim cannot detect any condescension in his tone.

Still, Tim scoffs and avoids looking down at himself. “Let’s hope it fools them.”

He would be surprised if it does. He certainly feels like a bad impostor, radiating his uneasiness for everybody to pick up.

Robin opens his mouth, doubtlessly to tell Tim some more reassuring lies, but Tim turns away, effectively cutting him off. He just wants to get this over with.

He lies down on the ground, trying for a posture that is not too conspicuous while still allowing Jason to blend into the background. Even though all his instincts scream that it is wrong, he turns his back to the door.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jason put his hood up and mess up his hair until his face is shrouded in shadows and the mask is not so obvious anymore.

And then, they wait.

Or, rather Tim plans to wait. Jason apparently does not deal too well with silences because he first shifts around impatiently, then huffs. Finally, he clears his throat and says, “Hey, Tim –”

“I’m fine,” Tim cuts him off. This is his one-in-a-lifetime chance of being cooped up with Robin, but talking did not turn out too well before, and he would rather not make things worse. “You don’t need to keep asking.”

It is also not a lie. The pain in both his ankle and his head have dulled to a low throbbing and the panic is under control. He is aware this will change once they are moving again, but for now everything is all right.

Jason hums, clearly not believing him, but then he says, “Actually, I wanted to know why you never said anything.”

Tim closes his eyes briefly. “About what?”

“Who we are. If you knew all this time.” Of course, Jason will not let this go. Perhaps he has a right to, considering how carefully Batman has hidden his identity all these years.

“It’s a secret.” Tim cranes his neck to stare at Jason. He admires Robin and would never endanger him like that. But if Jason is still not fully convinced Tim is not working with the enemy here, his doubt should be expected.

But then Jason asks, “Why didn’t you talk to us?” His tone is way too innocent for such a loaded question.

Tim is silent for a long moment. The truth would be that he did not want anyone to stop him from going out at night, but he can hardly say that. Jason Todd might understand the lack of parental supervision that lets Tim do as he pleases, but as Robin, he might ask questions that Tim really does not want to answer. And Batman surely would not let that stand. He is happy with things as they are. Getting a glimpse of all the excitement from afar is enough.

He gives a one-shouldered shrug. “You have better things to do.” Better than indulging Tim’s stupid dreams.

He feels Jason’s stare on his back but does not look up again. “Well, what if someone kidnapped you and made you tell them?”

The veiled accusation sits like hot coals in Tim’s stomach. He wants to snap back, say that nobody would kidnap him. But the very fact that he is sitting in a locked room with Robin right at this moment makes that argument void.

“I’m sorry,” Jason says when Tim does not answer. He should not apologize when he is right.

Footsteps come closer, effectively cutting their conversation off. Saved by the very real possibility of being killed, Tim thinks and tries to relax his tense muscles.

The door opens with the same screeching protest as before and Tim feels woefully unprepared. All he has to do is lie here and let the real Robin do the work and yet his hands start shaking again.

“Have you thought about our offer, little birdie?” a voice asks, sounding too close for comfort already. “Or do we need to make the kid scream?”

Don’t go to Jason, Tim thinks fervently, even as he forces himself to keep his face turned away. The entire game will be up before they can even make the first move if they recognize him.

There is another set of footsteps, perhaps two, but Tim cannot look up. He has to give Jason the chance to get them out.

“Ignoring us won’t –” The man cuts off with a grunt and Tim looks up just in time to see him doubling over while Jason whirls around him, using his leg as a ladder to jump up and kick at the second guy before punching the first in the temple with his elbow. The man goes down like someone cut his strings.

All Tim can do is try to not get crushed and watch as Jason never loses momentum but makes short work of the other two men. It is over so quickly that Tim is left with too much adrenaline in the sudden silence, his heart beating as loud as a war drum and his hands balled into fists he thankfully did not have to use.

“Yes,” Jason exclaims. His grin is very much out of place but Tim still finds himself answering in kind. He did not even do anything and yet he feels victorious. “The credit goes to you, of course, since it was your idea.”

Tim wants to say that they are not yet out of here, but his face heats up and he lets his eyes drop. Looking at the unconscious men is better than to meet Jason’s undeserved praise.

“I mean it, Tim,” Jason adds, putting a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “You were already thinking up plans while I wasted time on being angry. You kept a cool head. Not everybody could.”

The warmth from Jason’s hand and words spreads right into Tim’s core. They should not just stand around but get going but Tim cannot help himself. He does not get compliments like this, barely does anything worth noticing. Even ignoring the whole kidnapping, this is a night he will never forget.

“We should make sure they won’t be able to follow us,” Tim says, still feeling the glow in his cheeks. “And we should probably change clothes again.” Silently, he prays Jason will agree that there is no time for that. Even just pretending, the suit is a comfort now that they survived the first hurdle of getting out of here.

“Let’s stay like this. The colour suits you.” Jason winks but gets serious a moment later. He leans forward and fishes two pairs of handcuffs out of a pocket of the suit. “Put these on two of them. I’ll take care of the third.”

It is strange to move the unconscious bodies, even though they are definitely breathing. There is not even blood. Tim hurries to finish the task and then watches Jason string up the last guy with his own shoelaces.

“Ready to go?” Jason asks as he gets to his feet, looking strangely energetic for someone in their position. “I think I know the way out, so follow after me. We’ll try to avoid running into any more of these idiots.”

So, there are more. Their victory quickly turns sour at this reminder that they have not yet escaped. But Tim nods. He is very much out of his depth and really, really glad he is not alone.

At the door, Jason pauses again. “Will you be okay with your ankle?” Concern passes over his face and he looks Tim up and down as if he considers carrying him.

“I’m fine,” Tim says quickly. He will not slow them down and he will not make this harder on Jason. It is bad enough that he had to be rescued.

When Jason turns away, thankfully believing him, Tim takes a probing step. His ankle hurts and he knows it will only get worse from here on out. But he stands by his word. He will manage. Once he is safely at home, he can put some ice on it and recover. And home is so much more within reach now.

Jason hurries ahead, light-footed and with the easy elegance of a fighter. Following after him, Tim feels clumsy and loud. He closes the door to their cell and then looks cautiously down the hall. It looks identical on both sides but Jason never hesitates over which way to choose. That has to be enough.

They make it out without issue. Tim’s chest hurts as if he held his breath the entire time until they finally step out into the night air. He breathes and feels a smile spread on his face. They did it.

Jason touches his elbow briefly, motioning him to keep walking. Of course, they are not out of danger yet. So, Tim follows, down dark streets then up to the roofs. It is different to walk Gotham next to Robin, even if Tim is still the one wearing the suit. It feels like nothing in this city can touch them.

The throbbing in his ankle has turned into a constant burning. He does not say anything, though. It is still manageable and they are not yet safe. Still, he is glad when Jason is finally content with how far they have come and signals Tim to stop.

“How’s the foot?” Jason asks and reaches out for it almost as soon as they are sitting down.

Out of instinct, Tim withdraws. He is not used to being coddled, so they do not need to start now. “It’s fine.” At Jason’s blatantly unbelieving look, he adds, “I’ll put some ice on it and it’ll be right as rain.”

Jason clearly does not like that. “We should do an x-ray, just to be sure.”

“No hospitals,” Tim refuses immediately, the vehemence in his voice biting. If his parents find out about this they will never again let him set a single foot out their house unchaperoned.

And since they got out without anybody learning who Tim is, chances are good that he can keep this entire night secret. His parents will likely not come back before his ankle is healed, and even so he could lie to them. A sudden hospital visit, on the odder hand, is not so easily explained away.

Jason narrows his eyes but wisely does not decide to ask about the hidden implication. “We’ve got all we need at home.”

With home Jason means the manor. Bruce Wayne’s manor. Or even the rumoured Batcave.

“I can’t go home with you.” The mere thought has his brain sputtering to a halt. He needs to go to his own house, sort out his ankle and concussion, and then probably look for something else to take photos of. Batman cannot be made aware that he has a stalker, especially not a kid running around rooftops at night. “And you can’t tell anybody about me.”

He is not making a very good case for himself here, Tim realizes, feeding into Jason’s suspicions about him.

“I feel like that’s my line.” With a pointed look, Jason asks, “Is anybody even waiting for you at home?”

Tim hates the way his shoulders straighten automatically. Jason has no reason to suspect that his home life is anything but orderly and normal. Apart from him being out alone at night. Plenty of children do that, certainly, sneaking out of their window with no one being the wiser. They would not want their parents to find out. Nothing here indicates that Tim’s parents are away from home more often than they actually sleep in their own beds or that Tim has been managing his own life without anybody’s input for years. Nothing indicates that, one of these days, Tim’s father will run out of patience and beat some sense into him instead of just shouting and throwing things, or that his mother’s disappointment in him will simply grow too much to bear and she will not come home at all anymore.

Tim plasters a smile on his face and rolls his eyes. The effort is wasted, certainly, but appearances must be upheld. “I very much hope they’re not waiting because then they’d know I snuck out.” If he times it right, he will even miss the housekeeper who’s coming in the next day, and then he will have all the time in the world to sort himself out.

Jason does not believe him. He stares at Tim, looking suddenly much older than his years. He mutters something under his breath that sounds like “How do you do this, Alfred?”, but Tim does not know who Alfred is or what he has to do with this, so he ignores it.

Finally, Jason nods, even if he does not look happy about it. “I’ll bring you home.”

Tim already told him that he is living next door, but that does not mean he wants Jason to come. “You can’t –”

But Jason shakes his head, interrupting him. “I’ll drop you off outside your door, then we’ll exchange numbers. And you will call me if you need anything.” It sounds like a threat more than an offer of help.

Tim should be elated. He has met his hero, got out of their adventure together more or less intact, and he gets Robin’s number out of it, even if he already knows he will never use it. He also got to wear the Robin suit, no matter the reason.

“We should change our clothes,” Tim says because he will not be tricked into going to the Wayne house after all because they put this off.

He realizes his caution was right when Jason starts grinning. “Oh, no,” he exclaims far too happily. “You will keep that on and I’ll pick it up tomorrow when I check in on you.”

Check in – the only person checking in on Tim is the housekeeper, who is paid handsomely for it and for not telling anybody that Tim’s parents are constantly out of the country. “You don’t need to check in on me,” Tim says, barely able to comprehend the concept. “I’m perfectly fine.”

He is. Or he will be if only people stopped putting their noses into his business.

“It’s non-negotiable, Tim” Jason says and cocks his head. “Now, do you want to stay stubborn and let me carry you or can I call someone to drive us?”

Neither of these, Tim thinks. Especially because the only one Jason would call that Tim can think of is Batman. Then again, Jason did not sound so eager to have Batman come for them, earlier, so perhaps that is an empty threat.

“You don’t have to carry me,” Tim says pointedly but does not make a move to get up. He will when they get going again. Until then, he is happy to rest.

Jason clicks his tongue. “I’m not going to let you limp,” he says as if that is the worst thing that happened this night. “And to stop your next argument, they guy who’ll pick us up knows all about the suit.”

So, not Batman? But it does not matter. He is fine, and he really cannot have anyone else see him and find out about this night. “I can –”

“Listen, Tim,” Jason cuts him off and puts that damned hand back on Tim’s shoulder as if he knows how grounding that is. “I’m not the motherly type. That’s what we’ve got Dick for. But this was a stressful night and you’re hurt. Let me please make sure that you get home in one piece.”

He sounds earnest, but also like he is reaching the end of the rope. And Tim does not want that. It was a stressful night. “Fine.” If he is honest with himself, giving in is a relief because he really does not want to get back to his feet and his vision is still swimming, although he better not even hint at that if he wants to get Jason off his back. If he is that concerned about a busted ankle, he will definitely not let Tim out of sight if he learns about the possible – definite – concussion.

“Great, I knew you’d see reason.” Jason claps his hands and gets to his feet, seemingly not at all tired. “Now, let me make a call and then you can give me your number.”

Tim hums and leans back, desperate to just rest his eyes for a moment. His heart is still beating too quickly, not yet reassured that the danger is over. He listens to Jason talk on the phone and then to him telling some stories about too big manors with perfect banisters. Tim wishes he could take a picture of this moment, the two of them on this roof, but his camera was lost somewhere in that basement or on the way there. He will grieve for it tomorrow. Right now, he is just glad that he is alive, happy to let Jason talk and bask in the surrealism of this night.

Perhaps he dreamt this whole thing up. Exhaustion might have caught up with him and he slipped at home, hit his head. Perhaps – but then Jason nudges him awake and says, “Alfie’s here.”

They climb down the roof and into a car and the old man who introduces himself as Alfred has the warmest concerned expression that Tim has ever seen.

No, he decides, this was real. He is in the Robin suit and tomorrow Jason will visit him and pretend to believe whatever lies Tim will make up about his parents. Swimming in the exhausted void left behind by too much adrenaline, Tim grins at Jason, carefree and just happy to be alive. With a conspiratorial glint in his eyes, Jason grins back.

Yes, very much real.

#whumptober2021 #no.4 #do you trust me?#batman #fanfiction #tim drake #jason todd #jason is robin #hurt tim drake #My writing

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