It was cool down there in the ruined subway tunnel. The rubble Tim had collapsed on felt good against his cheek, except for the grit and the jagged edges digging into his body. There were worse places to die. Probably.
But he wouldn't die. Not if someone found him soon. He'd lost a good amount of blood and had some fairly severe internal damage, but he'd be okay with medical help. He just had to hope Dick would get to him in time, although Dick was probably dealing with… Dealing with Jason. Selina might come, but she'd taken a pretty bad hit and might be out for a while yet. Damian was injured too and should have been bound to the cave.
It was funny, Tim thought as he felt blood slipping out of the gash in his abdomen, that Gotham was filled with super heroes, all of the people Dick trusted to help keep the city together after Bruce's death. And yet, none of them would come to help Tim. None of them knew he needed help, or where to find him.
The suit he wore felt much too tight. The symbol on his chest burned into his skin, weighed him down. He'd been Batman for all of one night and look what happened. Beat to hell and making everything worse.
He hadn't wanted it. Any of it.
Tim didn't want to be Batman, but he hadn't started out wanting to be Robin, either. (Sometimes Tim tried to think of what he had wanted, before, but he came up empty and wasn't that a little sad.) No, he did it because he was needed, then and now. But this time was different and he knew it. He wasn't Batman. He couldn't do this. Not yet. Maybe someday he would be enough for the suit but right then he wasn't enough to take down one man, let alone protect all of Gotham.
His eyes gently fell shut as the cool air and blood loss seduced him to sleep, but the image came back to him against the black of his eyelids. Those crazed, glowing red eyes, that broken laughter. The blood running down from beneath a cowl and the satisfaction in his smile when he felt Tim's pulse stop.
Tim had never been so afraid of Jason Todd. He'd never been so sad for him. He didn't know it was this bad, that Jason was so far gone. The hardest part was that Jason was trying to help, in his own twisted way. The intentions were in the right place, but the way he'd been acting, the way he'd stolen the cowl and used it in such a sick way… It was frightening that Jason believed that was the right way. He'd been Robin, he'd been good, and now he was out there ruining Batman. He was ruthless and horrific and doing it under the symbol Bruce had worked so hard to create.
Bruce would be disgusted by Jason Todd's Batman. He'd probably be pretty disappointed in Tim's as well.
Yet, in some way, Tim understood. Not that he could relate to Jason's state of mind or the trauma he'd faced, but Tim could connect the dots, from point A to B. This matter put under these conditions with that variable would syphon through to make those results. He saw the math of it.
He even, in a smaller way, saw the truth behind Jason's logic. It was tiny, but there. It was possible, in extreme times, that extreme measures were needed. And Jason was extreme.
But Batman could never be that.
The soft echoing of footsteps reverberated down the tunnel. Tim slumped even further into the bed of broken rocks and twisted metal, relieved even as more and more blood pooled underneath him. Someone was coming. He'd be okay.
He saw boots first, big and dirty and he didn't recognise them. The logical part of his brain started to gear up, prepare for an enemy. The rest of him was too tired and drained to do anything. The someone came closer until they were standing right beside Tim. His eyes were half-open but trained on the boots, couldn't manage to look up and see who was filling them.
"Damn, kid," the person said, voice deep, familiar and yet completely unknown at the same time in a way that had the little functional part of Tim's brian racing, grasping at memories and trying to connect them to this moment.
There was some shifting and then the person was within Tim's view, kneeling down in front of him. Shock and confusion and adrenaline spiked through Tim. Memories flashed in his mind of just under an hour ago, of brutal punches and a batarang to the chest. That laugh and those eyes and that voice that he'd been replaying since he collapsed. Everything in him screamed to do something, get away now or the psycho really would do it this time. But Tim couldn't move other than a weak attempt to roll away that had him crying out softly in pain. He couldn't fight. This time, Jason Todd really would kill him.
"Hey, calm down," Jason said gently, and it was enough to startle Tim into listening for just a moment. He stared up at Jason as the man reached out and coaxed Tim into a better position on his back. Tim flinched with every point of contact between, ten levels past surprised as Jason pulled out some bandages from his jacket and pressed them to the wound he'd caused not that long ago.
Tim felt like his brain was stuck, completely immobilised by what was happening. He couldn't understand. He couldn't process this.
Jason Todd was saving him.
Maybe he wanted to keep Tim. The thought was utterly terrifying. He'd take Tim and keep him locked up, do who knows what. For his own amusement or to fuck with Dick and the rest. The idea had Tim squirming again, little whimpering protests falling from his lips. Jason stilled him with strong, gentle hands.
"It's okay, Tim. I'm not gonna hurt you." Tim looked at him in disbelief. Jason winced. "Any more than I already did. Promise."
It sounded so sincere that Tim would have believed it, had it been anyone other than Jason Todd making the promise. Tim was surprised to find he wanted to believe it, and not only for the fact that it would mean the situation wasn't horrible and getting worse. He wanted to believe that Jason had changed, as unlikely as it was that such a change could occur in the past hour. He wanted Jason to get better.
Jason continued to treat the worst of Tim's injuries calmly and precisely. It was was such a contrast to the savagery he'd displayed earlier. The lines of his face were smooth and set in steady determination. That's when Tim noticed that he wasn't bleeding. His nose didn't seem to be broken, nor his lip cut. No part of him was bruised. Tim knew for a fact the damage he'd done to that face and yet now none of it showed.
And Tim noticed something else then: age. Wrinkles and a broad, square jaw and even a couple grey hairs along the temples. The man looked like he could be pushing thirty years old.
The face of the Jason Todd in front of him was not the same one he'd met with earlier that night. The Jason Todd caring for him in the aftermath of his own attack was not the same man.
"W-who… how," Tim croaked out with the last of his strength. He felt himself slipping away and hoped he would wake up again. His eyes fell shut and in his last moment of consciousness he heard, low and soothing, "Don't worry, baby. I've got you."