I don't own Batman, Batgirl, etc.
Robin stumbled onto the roof top next to him, barely able to hold onto the shreds of consciousness that he had left.
In the back of his mind, he knew that he wouldn't be able to make it back to the Batcave, and he hadn't been able to recover his utility belt after he escaped, so calling Batman was out. All he had now was his backpack with civilian clothes in it.
He slumped on the ledge right behind him and tried to figure out what to do. He knew that if he didn't get help soon, it would be bad. Not to mention that those men that had captured him might still be after him.
Suddenly he got an idea. It was a stupid idea, and when Batman found out he would probably kill him, but at this point it was his only option.
Slowly, so as to not disturb his most likely dislocated shoulder, he swung his backpack around so he could grab the civilian clothes. Getting out of his uniform and into those was agonizing and seemed to him to take hours. But he managed, then packed his Robin outfit into the backpack. He reached up then and took his mask off, completing the change into Dick Grayson.
Dick walked over to the fire escape and made it to the sidewalk. Sticking to the shadows, he made his way towards one of the only people he could trust, towards the only place that he would be safe.
His vision was blurring in and out by the time he made it to the right building. Walking up the stairs of the apartment building proved near impossible, but he made it to the door, slumping against it for a moment. Then he slowly raised his hand and knocked on the door. After a moment, he heard uncertain footsteps making their way towards him from the other side of the door. Nearly weeping with relief, he straightened and tried to look like he wasn't seconds from passing out.
But it was no use; when the red-head on the other side opened the door, her hand flew to her mouth and she gasped, before rushing to his side to hold him up.
Dick grinned slightly his vision faded out, thinking, "Babs always did know when I was in trouble."
Barbra Gordon didn't know what to think when she saw her best friend standing outside her door at two in the morning, looking like he had been beaten half to death. But she saw the sleepy, closed off look in his eyes and knew that he was about to pass out. Rushing over to him, she slipped her arm under him just as consciousness gave way to his injuries.
She shook her head to ward off unwanted thoughts. Barbra could puzzle it out later; right now, all that mattered was that he needed her help. The fact that he had come here meant that he didn't want to involve the police, which slightly offended her; after all, her dad was a cop. Alas, she couldn't argue with her friend when he looked like that, and she was sure he had his reasons.
She half-dragged, half-carried him over to the small bathroom she and her dad shared. She bunched up a towel, then laid his head down on it as she left to get the first-aid kit. When she came back, she got to work.
The first thing she did was gently clean the blood off of his face to reveal the busted lip ad possibly broken nose. She fingered the latter gently, and breathed a sigh of relief when she felt that it wasn't. The blood from both of these had already stopped flowing. There wasn't much she could do for either, so she moved on.
Barbra hesitated slightly before stripping him down to his boxers so she could clean him up completely. And had to choke back a sob.
He was bruised, cut and bloody down to his toes. The worst seemed to be a cut in his stomach. It looked like it had come from a knife. Determining that it would need stitches, Barbra set to work.
Her Dad, being police commissioner, had insisted she learn not only to defend herself, but that she also knew how to treat nearly every kind of wound. Grabbing the special thread and needle from the kit, she got to work, biting her lip the whole time. When she finished, she was relieved and slightly worried at the same time. On the one hand, if he had woken up during this, it would have hurt quiet a bit. On the other, the pain should have been enough to draw him back into consciousness. Dick's injuries must have been more serious than she thought.
Moving on, she cleaned, stitched, and bandage every wound she could find. When she was satisfied, she looked over at his clothes, wondering if she should dress him again, but the state of them made her throw that out the window.
Barbara quickly picked him up and staggered into her room, lying him down on the bed. But she still felt like there was more she could do. He would be in do much pain when he woke up…
She momentarily brightened when her brain conjured up a few ideas. Racing into the kitchen, Barbra filled several small bags with ice, then raced back into her bedroom and placed them on some of the nastier looking wounds. Then she went back to the kitchen.
As she rummaged through the medicine cabinet, Barbra was, for the first time in her life, glad that her dad worked so late. If he came home sand saw this… She shuddered at the thought.
Finally finding the ibuprofen, she shook out around six pills. Then she went and grabbed the trophy from her last karate tournament and crushed the pills until they were no more than a fine powder.
Satisfied, she then got out a huge glass of water and a straw, then mixed the powdered pills into it. Walking back to her room, she set the glass on her nightstand, then shook Dick gently. "Dick. Dick, you need to get up now. Dick."
Sighing, she realized that this would not work. Her option here were very limited. If she yelled, she might wake their neighbors. If she shook him any harder, she could hurt him more that he already was. Barbra was about to give up when she remembered that her dad had put smelling salts in the first aid kit.
After getting them from the bathroom, she held them right under Dick's nose for almost two minutes when he finally stated to stir. "Whaaa?" He mumbled, trying to sit up, then wincing. "Where am I?"
Barbra made soothing noises as she helped him sit up. "You're safe, Dick. I need you to drink this and then you can go right back to sleep." She handed him the glass of water and ibuprofen. He nodded slowly, relaxing the minuet he recognized his friend's voice. Grabbing the glass, he slowly put the straw in his mouth and started drinking.
He was almost half way through when he paused. "This tastes funny. What's in it?"
Barbra smiled at her friend's attentiveness, even when he was half unconscious and beaten to a pulp. "It's just some ibuprofen. It'll help you feel better in the morning."
He nodded, then finished the drink. His eyes immediately started to droop, so she took the glass from him, then set it on the nightstand again. He sighed, then leaned back down and went back to sleep.
Barbra smiled, then settled into the chair in the corner. For now, she was content to just sit and watch over her friend as he slept.
Dick slowly came to a few hours later. Without opening his eyes, he could tell that he wasn't in the Bat cave, or in his room, and tensed. His eyes shot open and he jumped out of the bed he was lying on, only to fall back when his stomach screamed in protest.
He groaned and fell back onto the bed. Slowly, he leaned down and looked. There was a line of jagged stitching on his stomach. While it wasn't pretty, he could tell that it had been done by someone who knew what they were doing.
"Hey," Barbra said, causing Dick to jump in shock. He turned and looked at her, no longer fearful but still tense.
She looked at him for a moment while he stared right back at her. She studied him from head to toe. His bruises looked worse than they had last night, but she could tell that overall the ice and ibuprofen had done the trick. Well, done the trick as much as they could.
Seemingly finished in looking him over, she started talking. "My dad is working hard on another case, so he won't be home until tonight at the earliest. It's a Saturday so we can both miss school while you recover. You need to stay here at least until you can go home without having someone call an ambulance. Your clothes are in the washer right now; the stain remover should do the trick for the blood."
Dick slowly blinked, then spoke. "You seem to be taking this rather calmly."
She looked at him for a moment, again. "I knew that even if I pestered you, you wouldn't answer. And that you may not come to me for help if you need it next time."
He looked sheepish, but she knew that she was right. "I don't have to stay here. I mean, I wouldn't want to impose. Just point me in the direction of your phone and Alfred'll be here in moments."
Dick watched as a look came over her face that he had never seen before. It was scary, yet comforting at the same time. It was almost… maternal. "I'm going to ask you a question, Richard."
He looked uncomfortable, both at her use of his name and the thought of having to answer a question. "Look Babs, I—"
She cut him off. "If you want a phone call, you have to answer it. And don't even think about trying to get past me. You're barely in any shape to be breathing."
He sighed, then nodded. "Alright. Fire away."
She breathed in. "Did Bruce do this to you?"
Dick made a sort of choking sound, then burst out laughing. "What, Bruce? You think that Bruce did—" He kept laughing for a moment, then winced and clutched his ribs. "Ouch. Laughing is painful. But seriously, Barbra, Bruce would never do this kind of thing." To me, he added silently.
Her face relaxed, then broke into a smile. "Oh, good. For a minute there I thought you'd have to come live with me. And boy, would that have been awkward!"
He grinned too. "Yeah, totally. So, now that we've established that Bruce didn't try to kill me, can I have a phone?"
She looked thoughtful. "You can have the phone after your clothes are clean and dry."
"But—"
"Look, you need to just sit there for a little bit. And I know that the moment Alfred knows where you are, he'll drop everything and drag you out of here. But I'm afraid that if you move too much too soon, you'll get hurt. Now please, will you just wait an hour or so?"
He sighed. She did have a point. And it would be nice to just hang with Barbra for once; no school, no parents, no having to leave to go save Gotham…
"Alright. What do you suggest we do instead?"
The two were deep into a game of Go Fish when the dryer went off forty minutes later. Barbra smiled. "That'll be your clothes!" She jumped off the bed and went to go get them. As she walked out the door he glanced after her and reached for her cards.
"And keep your mitts off my hand, Grayson!"
He jerked back, then grinned. She always knew.
Walking back into the room, she handed him a slightly warm pair of pants, shirt, and hoodie. He stared at them for a moment, then looked down at himself. Dick wasn't quite sure that he could get his clothes on himself. "Uhh, could you give me a hand with this?"
Barbra looked slightly uncomfortable, but shook it off. She'd seen him in his underwear, helping him dress shouldn't be a big deal. Shrugging, she picked up the shirt and gestured for him to lean foreword. She pulled the shirt over his head, then gently eased his arms into the hoodie.
The pants, however, he managed to get on by himself. Looking over at Barbra, he saw she had gone off to get the phone.
Alfred stared at the young master as he gingerly lowered himself into the back seat. While his face looked like it had been hit with a crowbar, he seemed largely content, almost happy. Waving to the redheaded girl hanging out of one of the apartment building's windows, he pulled the door shut.
Alfred slowly pulled away from the curb, turning into the relatively light traffic of Gotham in the morning. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Are you all right, Master Dick? Master Bruce was certain that when we found you you would require immediate medical attention."
He looked up. "Oh, yeah… Barbra kind of took care of that. I knew I wouldn't make it back to the cave before I passed out, so I changed into civvies and went to her house. Passed out for a few hours, then woke up in Babs's bed all patched up. She insisted I wait for my clothes before you came and picked me up, otherwise I would have called sooner."
Alfred was concerned. "Does she now know of your nightly activities, Master Dick?"
Dick looked a bit puzzled. "No, Alfred. In fact, the only question she asked was whether Bruce did this or not." The young boy chuckled slightly. "She didn't ask, and I didn't tell."
Alfred smiled slightly, knowing that Miss Gordon was going to be an even more exceptional person than he had once thought. Which would make her exceptional indeed.
AN: Reviews anyone?