Ten stories off the streets of Gotham Bruce caught a bullet in his side. Twelve year old Dick looked on in horror as the man dropped, hit his head hard on the ledge and rolled over the side. Dick didn't think. He just leapt. Swinging down after him he managed to break the fall but couldn't take the weight. When he grabbed hold it was immediately clear he had to let go of something. Eyes squeezed shut, he let his fingers slip from the grappling gun and free fell the remaining distance clutching Bruce for dear life. The two of them hit the concrete of an alleyway fast and hard. Dick quickly dragged himself onto his knees to inspect Bruce. He fought off the sudden dizziness and kept himself vertical. Through the pain he was able to assess the situation clearly enough to know one thing. He needed to call Alfred.
The butler's voice in his ear grounded him. It brought him home. Still, the words started to spill out too quickly, all in a jumble. Alfred, ever on target, heard the key points. Bruce! Shot. Knocked out. Bleeding. Help!
"Alfred! Alfred, I don't know what to do!" He leaned over his arms, pressing all his weight into Bruce's side.
"Master Dick, you must listen to me." The calm voice insisted.
"He's not moving! There's a lotta blood, Alfred!"
"Listen to me!" Alfred barked sharply. Dick had never heard him raise his voice before. He went quiet, not counting his heavy panicked breathing.
"Robin, you do know what to do. His utility belt. Recall the Batmobile."
His gloved fingers fumbled for Bruce's belt pouch with the remote. He kept his other elbow locked, still pressing down on the wound. "I got it! I got it!" He smashed the button so many more times than necessary.
"Now listen, dear boy." Alfred's voice remained a steady beacon to the twelve year old. "You must get him into the car. I know he's much larger than you but you're strong and clever. Find a way, Robin."
Panic rose higher in Dick's chest. How!? Bruce was huge and even more so with the cape and gear.
"Now I must call Dr. Thompkins. Can you do this?" Dick squinted as headlights rounded the corner. Could he? He looked down at Bruce, unconscious and bleeding. "I-, yeah yeah, I can!" Everything he felt betrayed those words.
"Just get him inside and call me from the road." With that Alfred was gone. The car rumbled to a stop beside them. Its door glided open and locked in place. Dick inhaled deeply through his nose and heaved out the breath. "Shit. Shit. Shit." His eyes darted around looking for any hint of what to do. He couldn't lift Bruce off the ground, he knew that. The two of them were like a boulder and, well, a robin. It wasn't even worth the effort to try and there wasn't time anyway. A glance up toward the roof gave him an idea. "Smarter not harder, Grayson!" He huffed, scrambling with one hand for Bruce's grappling gun. He aimed it toward the nearest window ledge and fired. Once the line was fully extended, he moved fast. He needed both hands and let the pressure off the hole in Bruce's side. "One sec! On sec!" He clipped the line into Bruce's belt, got a good grip on his arm then used his free hand to push retract. He jolted into the air with Bruce then immediately let go of the button. "I'm sorry, B!" He said, wincing as he pressed the button to unlatch. Bruce dropped through the open roof and landed with an ugly thud, sprawling across the two seats. Dick shouted in pain as he hit the steering controls and fell onto Bruce's legs. The wire and the grappling hook crashed down a second later onto Bruce's chest. "We're ok. It's ok!" Dick breathily assured them both. He quickly got himself upright and hit the switch to close the roof. "Autopilot! Home!" The car roared into motion. Dick climbed over Bruce and nearly cracked the screen in his attempt to call Alfred.
Alfred walked him through the steps he already knew. Yes Bruce was breathing. Yes Dick was holding pressure on the wound. No Bruce still wasn't conscious. Yes. No. Ok. Got it. He could barely hear Alfred over the sound of his heart thundering in his ears. In front of him the open first aid compartment looked like a bomb had gone off inside. Dick furiously dug through it, snatching up anything Alfred told him to. "Breathe, Master Dick." With near shaking hands he followed every instruction Alfred gave. He just needed to get Bruce home alive. Outside the city blasted past. Inside Bruce's chest seemed to rise and fall in slow motion. Everything smelled like blood. Alfred stayed on with Dick the entire way home. Even when he had done everything he could, Alfred continued to talk to him. Dick just kept breathing and listening to the calm, steadying voice. He didn't take his eyes off Bruce's chest, terrified it might stop moving if he looked away. Bruce kept breathing and Dick did too.
"Almost there."
It took the concerted efforts of Dick, Alfred and Leslie to get Bruce's dead weight out of the car and onto a gurney. The older two wheeled him off to the med bay, leaving Dick propped against the car. He took a step to follow but immediately collapsed. He wanted to go help, wanted to make sure Bruce knew he wasn't alone. It was no use. He tipped his head back against the car and his eyes fluttered shut against his will.
Dick vaguely remembered someone pulling on his arms. Then he was floating. Then he woke up. He knew he was down in the cave. That big empty silence was unmistakable. Plus the bats were squeaking somewhere above. And a heart monitor was beeping. Dick bolted upright.
Instantly a pair of hands came to rest on his shoulders. "It's alright." Alfred said. Dick looked down at himself. He was sitting on the gurney still dressed from patrol and covered in Bruce's blood. Panicked eyes shot to Alfred.
"He's alive." Alfred assured him and nodded to the side. Dick turned to see Bruce lying unconscious in a bed. He was attached to an IV and a heart monitor. His chest was moving up and down. He'd stayed alive when Dick had looked away. Alfred anticipated the let down and his hands guided Dick back down to the gurney. "You need to rest here a little longer." He said. "Then I'll help you get cleaned up."
Dick just nodded. He was so tired.
"I'm very proud of you, Dick."
His eyes drooped and closed on Alfred's kind smile.
"You brought him home." A gentle weight rested on his hand.
The beeping of Bruce's heartbeat wrapped around him like a blanket and lulled him back to sleep.