Tim put a hand over his mouth and steeled himself against the sheer amount of blood. The teen held back his revulsion, thanking God and Bruce for his training to keep him from falling apart.
Jason was still breathing.
He touched his communicator, "Oracle-!" he cried out and stopped when he heard his voice crack with emotion. The last time she heard him do that was when his father died. "I need a medical helicopter at my location, I-I have a civilian in critical condition."
The red-haired woman gave a confirmation, surprised at what she was seeing. Bruce had asked her to keep an eye on the boy before they left. She sent out the call without question, doing everything in her power to ensure him the shortest possible wait-time. If what they said was true, Tim couldn't be Robin anymore.
There was a moment's hesitation before she called Bruce.
Tim could hear footsteps approaching, heavy boots crunching on gravel. He didn't need to ask who it was. Still, there was one thing he wanted to know. "Why?" He asked, not even turning around to face the man.
Wind whipped at the edges of a trench coat as the man said, "He became a liability." The barrel of a gun clicked at the back of his head and the teen sprung into action.
He struck his opponent with everything he had and used the distraction to vault for his staff. Catching it, he threw an electrified charge at the man's face.
He swatted it away with ease and mocked, "Pawn defends pawn, unaware of their own insignificance in life's grand play." His goal was the Batman and quarreling with these petty side characters was a waste. However, the corpse of his pet bird would make a most fitting 'hello'.
The muscled man hit his chest like a freight-train, striking blows that would crack ribs. Red Kevlar would leave him with only bruises.
Bullets marked where he landed as the teen had difficultly staying ahead of the onslaught. But, Tim refused to fall when so much was at stake.
Discipline and restraint were peeled back in favor of sheer brutality. Explosives and birdarangs were thrown freely, uncaring if they maimed. He was going to stop Tommy no matter how many bones he had to break to do so.
The man underestimated him greatly, allowing him to get in close. When a blast of quick ice knocked the air from his lungs, he finally fell. Tim stepped forward slowly and watched Hush struggle to breathe.
Frostbite was already damaging the delicate skin of his lips and nose, the bandages would prevent him from losing them completely. The chemical was far too dangerous to be used like this and Tim realized his mistake. Sorrow, fear, and anger churned inside of him but no matter how horrible he felt. He refused to kill.
The light betrayed him as streetlights cut the visage of a boy Thomas met the other day. "You" He seethed,"You're the boy from the apartment." Hate burned in him for the fool in front of him. There was no greater humiliation Hush could have suffered. To lose to the Batman was infuriating and understandable, but to be defeated by a child was a disgrace.
The teen spat blood onto concrete and ignored him, hearing a helicopter in the distance. The sound gave him hope.
He spared a glance over the body of his lover and ached at how still it had become. Hold on a little more Jason, help's almost here.
Seeing his opponent distracted by the now-dead body of his former colleague, it was time to strike. The folds of the coat hid one more weapon and aimed it at the boy's head.
A dark shadow loomed over the bandaged man. The blackness became a figure and three blades cut through the air. Two imbedded itself in Tommy's shoulder, and one in his sliced through the flesh of his hand. Batman would not allow a second Robin to die.
The gun was knocked off the roof and Hush was out of cards. He needed to make an escape and it was far too soon for their final confrontation.
Robin adjusted the grip on his staff and said "You have nowhere to run."
Tommy shot a cruel look to the boy that stole his victory and his words slurred by lips turned blue: "Liars when they speak the truth, are not believed." With the final cryptic taunt, he ran towards the roof and leaped off the edge.
He was already gone.
…
It was hard letting Jason go. Medical professionals and police took him away and Tim was not allowed to follow.
The helmet took most of the impact, shattering when the bullet hit. His skull was cracked and help arrived before his brain started to swell. The teen didn't know if he was comforting or torturing himself by reading everything he could about the staff preforming surgery. Barbara told him they were very skilled and that the operation was successful. Chances of permanent brain damage were low.
She watched him fidget and worry, his concern for the man was plain as daylight. He paced the hospital hallway and checked the moss-colored clock every few seconds for an answer.
"Robin…Don't torture yourself like this, go home. It's not healthy." The redhead said as she tried to reassure him through their radio. This was bad, Tim knew this guy for what? …A week? And it's already tearing him apart.
This was behavior more common for Poison Ivy victims, not for the usually level-headed teen. Barbara studied the information displayed on the screen. The sensors in his suit showed that his health readings were slightly off from stress, but that was likely from pacing in a hospital. However, the sensors couldn't detect chemical imbalances, mind control, and other more subtle problems.
She could call someone from the JLA to take a look at him, but there's no way Tim would agree to having his brain scanned. Even if he wasn't under someone else's control.
Blue eyes darted to the clock again as if something on its face could help. "I can't just leave him…" He pleaded. How could you explain what it was like to be forced to wait when the one you love could be dying?
Barbara felt awful for what she said next, "Look, I don't mean to sound like a jerk here, but you have to be realistic. We don't have any proof that he's actually Jason."
Multiple emotions flitted across the boy's face; anger, acceptance, then sadness. "But the coffin was empty-"He suggested, the voice almost like a whimper. Even he knew that was a weak connection. His pacing stopped and he slumped against the wall, depression weighing him down.
She afraid for the boy she loved like a brother and didn't want to regret this later. "He's in room 206, third floor on the east wing. You can't miss it."
His blue eyes brightened instantly, and he darted in the room's direction. Oracle called after him "Hey! Change into civilian clothes before you get there!" The last thing they needed was a nurse catching the two off them.
...
The teen approached the motionless body carefully, as if a single wrong movement could undo whatever magic was holding them together.
Various machines beeped and blinked, giving the illusion that the injury was worse than it was. Jason was swathed in the usual clinical robes and thin sheets that the boy always found so foreboding before. Painkillers steadily dripped into his bloodstream from an IV.
He ran his fingertips over a bandaged forehead and brushed away a stray lock of hair. He was reminded of an old fairy tale. A great beauty was lulled into a face death by a poisoned apple, forever waiting true love's kiss.
Was that what happened to you? The questioned briefly, thinking back to the neglected grave. Was he the handsome prince what would awaken his true love and defeat the evil witch? Or was he like the dwarf? Doomed by fate to lose to the first stranger that walked by.
Very gently, he set aside the breathing mask over his face just long enough for a kiss. His were wonderfully warm and red, a sign that death wouldn't take him today. The man stirred slightly despite his medication. Tim thought he heard him mumble his name, but that might have been his imagination.
The would-be murderer was still out there and Robin would be ready.
The teen unfolded a package kept hidden in his cape to slide it under the man's pillow. It was taken before the police confiscated Red Hood's weapons, and Tim felt like he would need it.
He had spent the night running high on pain and adrenaline, exhaustion finally caught up with him. A nearby chair was pulled up and he decided to rest his eyes for a few minutes…
He felt a hand on his shoulder.
Tim jumped to his feet, willing himself into another fight.
"You're getting sloppy." Bruce said flatly and walked past him to the man on the bed. The teen cringed, he didn't even hear him walk in. He had been so caught up in his own problems that he didn't even consider what was going through the older detective's mind. His son, his greatest failure, was back from the dead as a spirit of vengeance.
Batman worked quickly and quietly, checking the man called 'Jason' for plastic surgery scars. He made notes about eye color and scar locations in a small notebook. "I want the full story, Tim." He ordered, taking a fingerprint pad out of his belt.
The teen shed all pretenses and confessed everything. He explained the guilt and the love for the former Robin, the promise he made and even mentioned the evidence he destroyed.
All the while, Bruce worked in silence.
Tim was finished and his mentor closed his notebook to ask "Does he know your full name?"
The teen shook his head and said "No"
"Did you give him any information he could use against us?"
"No"
"Did he make you act against your will?"
"No" The teen smiled a little, remembering how shy the man was at the beginning.
"And if I forbade you from further contact?" Tim's smile faded.
It was a possibility that hurt to consider. "I…I would thank you for all that you've done for me, and then I would leave." Being Robin meant so much to him, but the name was never really his. He wouldn't stray from the path of good or fight against his newfound family, but he needed to choose his own path.
Bruce seemed to consider this, recalling a distant son in Bludhaven. He took another glance at his notes and asked one more question. "What if I told you that he wasn't the real Jason?"
Tim's gaze waivered to the sleeping man, if it was an illusion, a clone, or some other trick… But the emotions plaguing him were as real as the air they breathe. It was a disappointment, but nothing changed. "My choice is the same."
"If he is a fake, then I can't find proof of it."
Tim could have squealed in joy.