Little Bird's Vengeance Chapter 23 Pain
Tim staggered into his bedroom and started pulling off his suit. The mask dropped onto the bedside table, the wings and belt on the chair. Then he started on the damaged portions.
There were fewer wires in his gloves, the fried security system merely leaving marks across the back of the hand and around the base of the thumb. The boots, similarly, left only a few scorch lines. But the rest…
Tim finished disrobing with his eyes closed, and moved into the bathroom to check in the mirror. Across his torso and limbs, an extensive network of fiery red burn lines crisscrossed his flesh in the pattern of the wires in the suit. Tim relaxed his control, letting the pain through. He sucked in a breath, resisting it, more grateful than usual for the extra layer of protection provided by the cup at the fork of his legs. He turned to the shower, intending to wash off the sweat of the day's work.
As the water hit his back, the burns flared, and Tim couldn't help the cry that came from his lips before he slammed his hand into the control, halting the spraying water and pulling away.
He leaned against the sink, catching his breath. The barely healed bullet wounds started aching again, and it took a few moments to master it enough to stop trembling.
"Red Robin, sir," Jarvis spoke up. "Do you require assistance?"
Tim thought for a moment. At home, this would be the point at which he would call Alfred, the one person they never had to pretend to be strong around. This was clearly more than he could deal with himself. But who to turn to this time?
"Agent Barton," he replied at last. "Could you ask Barton to come here?"
"Of course, sir," the AI replied.
"And then switch off the audio receptors in this room."
Clint wasn't immediately concerned; he'd seen the kid moving with suppressed pain and assumed the bullets were troubling him. Pretending pain wasn't there was common enough SHIELD field agents, especially when it would interfere with the mission at hand. That the kid did the same seemed normal enough.
"Hey Red, what's up? Oh hell," he said, entering the bathroom and seeing exactly what was up. "How the hell did you manage this?!"
"When the security system fried, the wires superheated," Red mumbled. "I think I might need a little help here."
"You don't say," Clint muttered. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"
"We're normal, and they're not," Red replied shakily, hissing as Clint wet a sponge and started dabbing at the burns. "We're just as vulnerable as the people we protect. In purely biological terms, there is no difference between us and the victims. How do you think the others would feel if they realised just how fragile we are?"
"They wouldn't like it," Clint shrugged.
"No. Steve tried ordering me to keep out of the fight, just because of my age. How would he react to being reminded of our relative mortality?"
"You think he might forbid us from coming out?"
"He'd certainly think twice before letting you two take three powered targets again."
"We don't need protection!" Clint said hotly, offended that he and Tasha would be considered incapable of defending themselves.
Red raised an eyebrow. "You know that, and I know that, and Ms Romanov knows that, but if you were Captain Rogers, what would you be thinking when you look at me right now?"
"That I failed to protect a teammate," Clint admitted. "He'd get pretty overprotective."
"Yeah," Red breathed. "'Specially when we go getting ourselves injured."
"Hey, it's not your fault those guys fried your suit," Clint reassured him.
"Considering how long took me to cross half of New York, I should have been able to come up with a better plan than "let's jump in front of the death beams"." He shook his head. "It might not have been my fault, but it was definitely my responsibility."
"Well, one thing that will be your fault will be if you don't get this mess treated," Clint said. Red had mirrored the principle drilled into every field agent, especially when civilians got harmed. It was their responsibility to keep collateral to a minimum, but when they failed, it wasn't their fault- it was the fault of whoever they were up against. If the kid was in the right frame of mind, they just had to fix his body. "Not much I can do for you here, so let's get you to the Helicarrier."
"I scared the doctor last time," Red complained.
"So do most of us, every time we come up with a new way to get hurt," Clint shrugged. "Come on, it has to be done."
AN: A number of you don't like how last week's chapter went. I understand your concerns and agree that I may not have done as well as could be hoped. I hope to address and somewhat correct the issue more next week. Those of you offended, please forgive an imperfect work. However, this chapter will be in a fortnight. Sorry.
In Family Ties this week, the revenge scheme progresses. In Dalek Invasion, the crossover of the week is the TV series Sherlock, with the brief appearance of characters from Doctor Who spin-off Torchwood. I know this story isn't the same sort of fandom, but I hope you'll check it out anyway.
Next week, a return to the world of the Dark Knight Trilogy with Black and Red. An interlude from the plotting in Family Ties. And through the wardrobe in Dalek Invasion, crossing into Narnia. Hope to see you then.
As always, I crave reviews. Anything bothering you, feel free to ask a question.
And finally, a very merry Christmas to you all. If you don't celebrate Christmas, happy holidays. And Happy Birthday, Jesus Christ.
Katara