A/N: Yesterday my internet when down, and the library was closed. Who's bright idea was it that I update on Sundays? Oh, yeah, mine. Well, sorry it's a day late. Hope you guys like it despite.
ENJOY!
My Robin Reversal AU:
Tim - 18
Chapter Twenty-Four: A Call For Help
Tim leaned heavily against the cold brick wall of the alleyway. Quick puffs of steam came from his mouth as he struggled to catch his breath in the early winter air. His side felt like fire in contrast as he pressed his hands tightly to it, hoping to keep pressure on a bleeding gun wound. One of those muggers back there had gotten a lucky shot, a shot that Tim had dodged when it came out of the gun, but didn't account for the ricochet as the bullet rebounded off a metal pipe and dug itself deep into his ribs. It might not have hit his lungs, as he was still able to breathe normally, but it must have nicked an artery with just how much blood was seeping past his fingers from under his palm.
Tim staggered a few steps more, trying to drag himself along the wall for support, his body both growing heavier and feeling weightless at the same time. Definitely too much blood loss.
As the thought of trying to get back to his bike came to mind, he banished it. The idea of staggering the six blocks that he left it was impossible enough without the added consideration of actually driving the damn thing. To tack onto an already cruddy evening, Tim heard the distant rumble of thunder just before he began to feel the stinging touch of nearly frozen raindrops hitting what little of his skin was vulnerable. It didn't even have the decency to be snow.
Cursing his luck, Tim limped along, not fully sure where he should go or what he should do. He was quickly coming to terms with the fact that he might not survive this, but like hell was he just going to drop down and wait for death. So long as he had some consciousness left, Tim was going to fight for his life.
It was in that moment, Tim saw a dim light coming from salvation. A rusted phonebooth, covered in graffiti and probably protected by the numerous chain smokers in the neighborhood that used the booth to feed their habit in similar weather. With a little struggle, Tim managed to get into the booth and out of the pouring rain just as it turned into a freezing deluge. The wind tried to shove the rain into the booth with the dying vigilante, but Tim was able to just barely force the rusty door of the booth closed, though only partially.
Calling it good enough, Tim leaned back against the dirty glass and took a moment to just relax. This only proved to be a bad idea as his hand on his side also relieved some of the life-saving pressure and he felt another fresh stream of blood spill with his heartbeat, and he felt his head swoon. It was only due to instinct that Tim was able to force his hand back into place, trying to dig through his supplies for a dry bandage. It was futile, he already knew that when he had been shot, but he was getting desperate and hopeful.
Looking up, Tim saw that the booth still had a phone, though he fully suspected that the line to it would have been long since dead, again he decided to try his luck. Forcing himself to his feet, Tim pulled a quarter from his pocket, fumbling only a little due to his bloody hand causing the coin to become slick. The machine still happily accepted the now stained currency and Tim put the speaker to his ear. There was a dial-tone.
Eyes widening slightly at the turn in his luck, Tim quickly punched in the first seven-digit number that came to mind by instinct and listened as it began to ring through. It was after the second ring that Tim's eyes followed the pattern of blood prints from his fingers, finally recognizing the number he just dialed.
"Wayne residence, this is Alfred Pennyworth speaking. I am afraid the master is having dinner with his family and cannot come to the phone at this moment. If you would like, I may pass a message on to him for you?" Alfie spoke in his usual business-like manner that he used when speaking to a stranger that he did not know or have any real opinion of. It made sense, after all, the caller ID would show this as a Gotham number, but an unnamed caller. But it bit into Tim's heart all the same and he felt his knees give out beneath him, causing him to slam into the side of the booth and drop the phone. He let out a loud curse as he tried to right himself, only succeeding in causing his side to flare up with an intense pain that he had until now been blocking out.
Taking a second to get his breathing under control, Tim opened his eyes to see three phones hanging from cords, swinging in sync above his chest. Blinking and refocusing his gaze, the three phones became one blurry one and Tim took it in his hand as he bought it to his ear. As he had hoped, Alfred had not hung up, though he seemed to be both concerned and annoyed. Not entirely convinced that it wasn't a prank call, but not willing to just write it all off as one either.
"Hello? I do not have time to waste, so if you would please tell me what you want so that we may both get on with our evening-"
"Al-" It was all Tim could coak out, the effort of talking causing him to grunt and pant. He needed to readjust if he planned to speak any more than that, he had too much weight on his bad side as was. Tim could hear Alfred calling out to him from the other side of the line distantly as he rearranged himself, sitting more comfortably as he was just barely able to get the phone to reach his head.
"Got shot." Tim wasn't sure what the butler had been saying, but he figured that'd get the point across for the phone call. "Corner of fifteenth and Hash, not looking good."
"Oh dear, I'll get Master Bruce right away-"
"No, Al, I, I don't think that'll make any difference-"
"I believe that you are in no condition to make such calls, young man. You keep pressure on that wound and I will send help. You are to remain right where you are and you are not permitted to give up, do you understand me, Master Tim?" The tone in Alfred's voice was final and Tim let out a mix between a gasp and a laugh.
"Understood, Sir," Tim acknowledged. He heard Alfred set the phone down and then leave the room, he was back before too long and struck up a conversation with Tim as if it was just another Wednesday night. Letting himself lull, only just a little, Alfred told him about Jason trying to train himself to be left-handed, causing multiple incidents in which have lead to numerous bruises and scuffs to himself and their youngest brother Dick, much to young master Dick's annoyance. The two have not stopped arguing about Jason's transgressions only leading to Jason to trying more and more left-handed activities. As if to add another level of disaster to everything, Cass has decided to take neither brother's side while simultaneously taking both brother's sides; giving Jason new ideas to try with his 'training' and pretending to be sympathetic to Dick's plight at having such a horrible older brother by holding him close and patting him on the head.
"Sounds like Cass is trying to become Dick's new favorite," Tim mumbled sleepily. He had officially given up on trying to keep his hand tight on his side, no longer having the strength to staunch the wound. He felt his eyes started to close slower during each blink and found them harder to pry open again. It was getting to the point where he just gave up on that to. Bit by bit he began to disobey Alfred's final order.
Tim leaned his head against the phone as if it was a pillow, listening to Alfred's voice grow both frightened and distant as if he was listening from underwater. Strange, since he was breathing just fine. The pain in his side had gone from unbearable to almost nonexistent as he lost feeling in his body. He was cold all over, deep into his bones, no doubt made worse by the terrible weather.
The rain crashing against the glass grew suddenly deafening and Tim was vaguely aware of someone lifting him up into their arms, pressing him against their chest.
The strong sent of Bruce's favorite cologne hit Tim's nostrils and a feeling of safety washed over Tim almost as hard as the rain as Bruce carried him to his car.
Tim blacked out at that moment, losing all consciousness, letting his foster father take care of him for the first time in years.
Waking up was not nearly as peaceful of experience as almost dying was the night before.
Head pounding, side-splitting, throat aching, arms and legs cramping up, and lungs on fire; Tim groaned in misery as whatever drugs had kept him sedated wore off.
"Good morning," a familiar voice of a young girl greeted, almost sarcastically.
"Bite me, Barb," Tim grumbled.
"You got shot," the little redhead pointed out.
"You grow more and more observant each time we meet," Tim sighed and cracked open an eye to see the little hacker on her laptop, glasses perched on the tip of her nose as she read through the script of some dark web search, or something, the reflection on her specs wasn't perfect. Not to mention Tim would never admit that the nine-year-old had already surpassed him at literally anything dealing with software and coding. It was a sting to his pride as both the nerd and the second eldest of the family. Despite how he sometimes felt replaced by the young hero-in-training, however, their joined appreciation in technology proved to be how the two ended up bonding in the end.
"You called for help," Barbara stated, folding her laptop closed and giving a level look to the hospitalized young man. Tim frowned and shifted a little in the cot they had laid him in within the medical bay of the cave.
"Yeah? So?" Tim tried to play it nonchalantly as Babs' gaze bored into him. She finally smiled, her eyes filling with relief as she huffed out a sigh.
"Good, I don't want you to die any time soon." With that, Barbara put her laptop on the seat next to her as she leaped over to give Tim a gentle hug. Tim laid there shocked before smiling back and putting a hand to her back. It wasn't how they normally showed they cared, it was a bit too affectionate for their usual relationship, but he could make an exception this once. After a couple of seconds, Barbara pulled away and wiped the tears from her eyes. "I better go tell the others. Bruce canceled all his appointments for the day to be here when you woke up."
"Great," Tim groaned from between his teeth. Damian knew better than to think their experience of being trapped under miles of rubble changed their relationship. Bruce wasn't very likely to have the same understanding.
"I would offer to give you a shot of morphine and play distraction to help you sneak out, but I've already been threatened with having my final eval pushed back another year if I try that," Barbara explained, grabbing her laptop before looking up in memory and tacking on, "again."
"You know, I don't think I want to know," Tim waved her off, wincing at the pain in his side from the motion.
"Wise," Barbara smirked before she walked off, leaving the cave, and Tim.
Tim took a deep breath and waited for Bruce with a sense of apprehension. While he waited, he held a mental conversation with himself, weighting the 'pros' and 'cons' of staying and becoming part of the family again.
'It's not like I'm hit with the same urges as before.'
'But there's still that feeling in my gut that twists every time I seem them.'
'It's only when I see Bruce and Damian. And it's been getting easier in the past couple of years.'
'Exposure isn't going to suddenly give me immunity, they aren't good for me.'
'They were pretty good to me the last couple of times I needed them. Maybe it's time to chance it.'
'I could get hurt by trusting them again.'
'I could heal by learning to trust them again.'
'I could end up hurting them.'
"I could kill them all."
Tim shot up in his cot, ignoring the blinding pain in his side at the action. Frantically he scanned the cave around him, looking for who said it. That last sentence was NOT in his head. The really frightening part, though, was it sounded like it came from right next to his ear. Tim could see a vent just a foot or two from that side of the bed and leaned over to it, hoping to catch the rest of the conversation it had to have brought to him. Before he could get close enough, however, Bruce ran down hurrying over to him.
"Tim, are you alright?" He called out, resetting Tim into his cot gently.
"No, wait, yeah, but stop it, that hurts!" Tim spoke hastily, not really following his own line of thought. He didn't want to alert Bruce in case Bruce just chalked it up to Tim 'hearing JJ' again.
"You gave us quite a scare last night," Bruce spoke gently as he sat in Barbara's recently vacated seat. "Did you get a look of who did this to you?"
"Yes, Bruce, I already had them tied up, their knees busted in, and the police called before I even realized that I was hurt." That earned him a look from Bruce, Tim just shrugged it off. It was his own fault for forgetting who he was talking to.
Bruce just sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before he changed the conversation.
"I hope you realize that I can't condone you leaving until you've healed," Bruce began to explain patiently. Tim was about to argue until he glanced over to the vent. If he was here when whoever it was that wanted to attack everyone made their move, then he'd be able to protect them without having to explain that he 'heard a voice' while recovering from a near-death experience.
"Alright. Fine. But I get to go up to my old room after I'm off the I.V. Deal?" Tim asked, shocking Bruce to the point where the older man's brows nearly met his hairline.
"Deal," Bruce agreed, giving his hand to 'shake on it'. Tim took it and their little pact was made. If things got too intolerable before whoever was making their threat then made their attack, then Tim would just talk to one of the younger kids who didn't know about 'JJ' and let them know what he had heard. Until then, it might be good for him to be around family for a little while.
A/N: So, yeah, Tim's back in the fold, and someone is possibly plotting against the family. Might be a while before we find out who though. ;) Anyways, again, sorry for the late update. See you next week. Preferably on time.
((R&R if you liked. Need a default response? Just say "Welcome Home, Tim!", I'll take it))
