Tim Drake-Wayne (redrobin) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-09-11 04:47:00 |
|
|||
Taking care of cleaning up the streets had been repetitive and exhausting but effective. By the time Tim made it back to the cave, he was bruised and battered but he was fairly certain he had proven that he could at least hold his own out there. Sure, he hadn’t gone up against Riddler, Joker, or Scarecrow, but did that really matter? He’d contributed and he’d done his best to leave dozens of thugs knocked out and tied up for Gotham PD to pick up when they got their shit together. It wasn’t their fault that the villains knew how to really screw things up and they just didn’t know how to respond. They’d learn and the Batfamily would be there to help them out. Tim had taken off the cowl and settled himself in front of the computer, monitoring the situation as best he could when he got Bruce’s message. He relayed his status but what concerned him the most was Stephanie’s responses. Everyone who donned a mask knew the risks but that didn’t mean that they got to hide the injuries. That almost never ended well, but he took Bruce’s backing as a good sign. Without wasting a second, he started tracking Steph’s comm as he filled a bag with medical supplies that Alfred had likely stocked up in the cave. Once that was taken care of, Tim pulled the cowl back on and grabbed a car, syncing the comms with the GPS so that it would navigate him to the Seahorse club in Old Gotham where she was located. Seconds turned into minutes and it felt like at least an hour had passed before Tim pulled down an alley right next to the building. One grappling gun later and he was up on the roof, where her signal seemed to be coming from. “Spoi- Batgirl. Where are you?” Tim asked, speaking into the comm as he moved quietly along the rooftop, looking for the place she was most likely to hide. Once Riddler had given her the slip, Steph waited a few moments to see if he rigged any more traps before dragging herself out of that final, desolate room and using her last bits of strength to grapple up to a nearby roof. Curled against a chimney sort of thing, she could admit Riddler had won this one, even if the nurses all made it out alive and well. She didn’t want to admit it, but she certainly could and should. Sitting on the roof of the building just opposite the Seahorse, she knew he had defeated her. And that, more than the injuries that littered her body, stung worst of all. It left a bad taste in her mouth, knowing that Riddler had gotten the best of her. Yeah, she had landed a few good hits, and possibly dislocated his jaw, but nothing compared to what he did to her. She wheezed, and she squeezed into a corner, and she wrapped a delicate arm around her bleeding side. Steph didn’t even have to look at herself to catalogue many of the wounds and bruises she attained from her encounter with the Riddler traps. His thugs fired off their guns at her in that first room, and she already could feel the fierce burn of the bullets in her legs and the one lodge in her ribcage. It made it hard to breathe, that bullet, and she worried that it might have punctured her lung. She couldn’t really lie to Tim and Dick about being fine when there was a bullet in her lung. Crap, great. Her body was all bruised up, too, and sore spots spoke of a possible fracture in her forearm. Blood on her face, a quickly darkening mark on her cheek, and a puffy nose. Stephanie Brown clearly was not fine as she slumped against the cold metal, and that was just still in the kevlar. The comm sprang to life, and she groaned, and if Tim didn’t hear that groan, she scrambled to press her finger against her ear to respond. “I’m in the right corner.” Breathe, breathe, choppy breath. A hiss of breath between her teeth, and Steph was clearly in pain. Wonderful. “Farthest from the Seahorse. Sitting down.” She hoped he wouldn’t make a big deal no matter what kind of shape she was in, but that was Tim did. Tim heard the groan faintly, enough to turn his head in the right direction, and her voice confirmed where she was. He was already moving before he even heard the telltale hiss of pain, his grip tightening on the bag of supplies strapped to his back. How badly she was injured, he couldn’t be sure, but the more she hid it, the more he suspected it was bad and that made him panic. Fortunately for the both of them, Tim was still very much aware of the fact that this Bruce could use any incident, however small or well intentioned, as reason to hang up the cowl and move on. He pushed the feeling back as he made his way quickly and silently over to where she was. On the ride over, he’d thought of what she might look like, bloody and broken, costume torn, bones broken...it got more gruesome the closer to her he got but seeing her... Tim was relieved and concerned again in a matter of milliseconds. “Hey,” he greeted her, keeping his voice calm and soft as he knelt down next to her. Her face was bloody, her nose and cheek clearly injured, and a quick glance down the rest of her body indicated three bullet wounds. Fuck, came Spencer’s ill-timed appearance. The worry became two-fold, Spencer’s worry for Nick bleeding into his own worry for Steph. An intense look came over him as he tried to push the older man away, insisting that she (and Nick by extension) would be fine. It took a precious few minutes but it worked and Tim was able to provide his full attention to Stephanie. “Where is it the worst?” he asked, pulling the bag of supplies over his shoulder and setting it down next to her. Right off the bat, Tim found her a bottle of water - that he opened - and two heavy duty painkillers. “The gunshot wounds - they through and through or is there a bullet lodged in there?” The latter would be difficult to cope with but his hands were steady and he’d do what needed to be done to keep her safe. As awkward as things were between she and Tim, and as prideful as she could be, Stephanie was glad he was there more than anyone else. Damian might have been good, too, but she would have earned a couple of snide remarks beforehand. “Hi,” she said, voice a little strained and raspy, but she managed a small smile. She took the water bottle and the painkillers gratefully and looked up at him, only able to imagine how awful she actually looked to him. After popping the pills and swallowing a mouthful of water, she looked up at him again, taking slow breaths to hide how painful it really was. “The ones in my leg went through and through, but I think another is lodged right--” And another hiss as she bent to give him a better look at the wound in her side. “Right around here.” Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment as she straightened herself again. Then, she offered him a wry, wobbly smile. “Is this the part where you say ‘I told you so’? Not that I’m gonna listen or anything, Boy Wonder.” It was more than obvious that she shouldn’t be in a place like this for very long. The painkillers would need time to start working so Tim moved to stop the bleeding from the gunshot wounds, using a fair bit of gauze in the process. He didn’t stop until he was satisfied that she would last the even shorter trip back to his place. It was closest and well stocked, something he’d done shortly after his arrival. It was also far cleaner than the abandoned rooftop. “You never listen,” he replied lightly, but it was obvious his heart wasn’t in the teasing. “Come on. I need to get you someplace clean and safe,” he continued, slinging the bag over his shoulder before reaching to pick her up. Carrying her bridal style seemed like the safest bet so that was exactly what he did, moving as slowly as possible so that he wouldn’t aggravate any of her injuries. Tim moved carefully and quickly down through the building, out to where his car was. With as little jostling as possible, he laid her out in the backseat and lingered for a moment, just looking at her to make sure that she was okay and to reassure himself that she was alive. It was bad. He shook his head just slightly to ward off any bad thoughts and shut the door, slipping into the driver’s seat and then they were off. It took three minutes to get to his safe house, a small hole in the wall that was indistinguishable from its neighbors unless whoever was looking knew exactly where to look. It took a few minutes longer to get her upstairs, but soon enough she was lying on his bed, her cowl removed and a very fluffy pillow beneath her head. “I’m going to need to get you out of this,” he warned her softly, moving about the room to get the tools he would need to safely remove the bullet. “It’s going to hurt, but-” Tim looked at her, concern written all over his face. “You’ll get to be bad ass of the week if you promise not to scream.” Injecting a little humor into a situation wasn’t really his strongest suit. That was more up Dick’s alley. She wanted to argue with Tim and tell him to lay off. Really, she did. She was totally an independent woman who did not need Tim Drake taking care of her, but then again, she also had a couple of bullet holes in her. So, she didn’t argue when he picked her up even if she felt like an idiot (and, okay, maybe there were a couple of butterflies in her stomach), and she didn’t argue the entire way to his house, but she did manage a pout when he pulled her cowl off. Her arms would have crossed, too, if that didn’t cause her excruciating pain. “You just want the excuse to touch me,” Steph teased, but there wasn’t much humor in her voice either. She kept drifting back to the fact that she let Riddler do this to her. Not even someone like the Joker or Black Mask, but the goddamn Riddler. It was embarrassing, almost, and it boiled her blood with such rage. “I can’t believe I let that bastard get to me like this,” she muttered, though Tim might have been able to hear her regardless. Tim barely managed a grim smile at her halfhearted teasing. “You got me,” he replied, taking a moment to gently brush some of her blonde hair out of her eyes. He hated seeing her like this, or any of them, but it was always hardest with her. The bullet wound at her side was the most important so that was where he started, peeling her top out of the way as gently as possible so that he could get to it. Thankfully, it wasn’t too deep and he’d be able to take care of her on his own, instead of going to a hospital. He didn’t trust them in this place, not for a second. Tim got a small vial of a local anesthetic, something that thankfully wouldn’t interfere with the pain meds, and prepped the wound site. Once he found the bullet, just barely an inch inside her and thus not nearly as damaging as he’d initially thought. At least one rib was fractured, he could see, but that would be next. “What happened?” he asked, trying to get her to talk as well as trying to distract her from what he was about to do. With a firm hand, Tim simultaneously applied pressure to just in front of the bullet and slid a pair of forceps into the wound, working as efficiently as possible to pull the offending piece of metal from her flesh. It came out without any trouble thank god, and he put it off to the side in favor of pressing gauze against her side to stop the bleeding that had started again. When Tim reached up to brush the hair out of her eyes, Steph thought it was completely unfair that her heart doubled its beating. With the amount of blood she had lost, that really should not have been able to happen, at least according to her logic. Stupid, Steph. She was being stupid. It didn’t matter if he might have given her butterflies just then. Nope, not at all. She watch him for a moment, her blue eyes searching the profile of his face, distracted enough that she didn’t really notice or feel Tim Drake playing doctor until he slipped the forceps into her wound. And boy, did that hurt, even with the pain medication and the anesthetic. Steph cried out in surprise before gripping the sheets tightly and gritting her teeth. “Um,” she said, voice audibly strained, as Tim continued to work. Taking a deep breath, she dropped her head to face the ceiling and closed her eyes tight. “Riddler kidnapped a couple of nurses from St. Sebastians and put a few of them in this sort of...riddle house. Separated in different rooms. And it was my job to get them out.” After a moment of silence, she dropped her chin down again and looked at Tim. Her eyes, blood-shot and bright blue, spoke of the pain that her grip in the sheets hinted at as well. “At least I did that okay. The getting them out bit.” Stephanie sighed in disgust. “Riddler. Goddamnit! Of all people.” And she knew it was irrational, at least being angry that it was him. Riddler was incredibly intelligent and ingenuitive. It wasn’t like he was one of those third-rate Gotham thugs, after all. It wasn’t easy, not when she cried out. It sounded like a blood curling scream to him and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from apologizing. It would only be a distraction from doing what she needed done and Tim wasn’t going to put her at risk. He pressed the gauze firmly against her wound and looked at her, listening to what happened. It was never easy seeing her in pain, but they all knew the risks and they were tougher than most other people. Once the bleeding slowed, he was able to get a good look at her and figured some high tech sealant would be alright instead of stitches. They’d certainly be more comfortable. It took a few minutes to apply and by the time he was done, she was getting riled up about Riddler. He could understand though, because of who her father had been. The similarities had to have made it difficult for her to begin with and if he’d taken an interest in her...well, he was glad she’d made it out period. “You rescued the hostages. That’s priority number one, you know that,” Tim said as he moved to her feet to carefully pull off her boots. She knew what was coming, but he wanted to give her at least some warning. “I’m going to have to...take those off,” he pointed out, nodding slightly toward her pants as the other boot came off. Given their history, it was only slightly awkward, but Tim was damn glad it was him doing this and not Damian. He still didn’t like how close they’d apparently gotten. The pants came off with little fuss and he did his best not to hurt her any further. He started with her right leg, cleaning the wound with antiseptic on both sides before applying the same sealant from her other wound after ensuring that there wasn’t irreparable damage. “And I’m sure taking care of them wore you out,” he pointed out, before muttering softly, “You shouldn’t have gone by yourself.” He started in on her left leg next, cleaning and dressing the wound. Her blue eyes rolled dramatically; she couldn’t help it. Stephanie knew deep down that of course the hostages were the number one priority. Of course they were. Still, it stung to be bested by the Riddler -- or to be bested by anyone. But especially the Riddler, who worked with her father, who constantly mocked and chided and berated her because of her father. He managed to get under her skin and burrow in there, striking when she felt most vulnerable or angry, and she hated him for that. Absolutely. She didn’t blush when he told her he’d have to strip off the bottom half of her costume, and she was actually kind of thankful to be rid of them. The kevlar protected her in theory, of course, but it was cumbersome when pressing against a would like that. She did bite down on her lip and looked away from him as he worked over her, wincing only when he pressed against the wounds and trying to keep on a brave face. The girl wonder was quiet as he worked her over until he muttered under his breath. She didn’t catch everything, but she did catch the “by yourself” bit, and she started up only to hiss in pain. “Shit,” she breathed before glaring at Tim. “I can take care of myself, Tim. He just managed to catch me when I was already exhausted.” Tim knew exactly what the argument was going to be and he rolled his eyes. “Lay back down before you make it worse. I still need to wrap your ribs,” he pointed out as she glared at him. He had his own demons and thankfully, he didn’t have to face them here, but she did. She just didn’t have to do it on her own. There was never any shame in asking for help, especially against any of the more sophisticated criminals in Gotham. She’d been around long enough to know that and they’d worked together long enough to know that. “That’s my point, Steph. You were exhausted, you should’ve called for back up at least,” he replied, more disappointed that she didn’t instead of chastising. He finished with her legs and came back to sit next to her, ready to start wrapping her middle. “Come on,” he said, carefully helping her up into a sitting position. “Hold on.” She needed to keep her back straight so that the bandage would actually be helpful. It was a thick, reinforced bandage that WayneTech had designed and manufactured, solely for their use. “I know you can take care of yourself Steph, and I get it about the Riddler, but you don’t have to do it all on your own. You don’t even have to ask me,” he said as he wrapped the bandage tight around her middle. Even if he wanted to be the person she called, he’d rather she got help from someone rather than no one. Stephanie knew that partnerships were usually the best way to go in Gotham City, she did. Hell, teaming up with Tim to take down her father was how she really got pulled into the fold of the BatFamily. She and Damian teamed up constantly, both to good and bad results, and she had countless partnerships with various heroes in both Gotham and Metropolis. This felt different. Riddler called out for her. He specifically had those nurses make sure she was sought out for his sick game. Maybe Steph fell into a trap, and maybe someone should have come as back up. Maybe, in retrospect, she should have asked for help from the beginning. Riddler, however, had turned into a bit of her own personal demon, a reminder of her father that dangled himself in front of her constantly. It was her problem to settle. “He asked for me,” she snapped back, hissing in pain again as he wrapped the bandages around her tightly. “He designed all of it for me, Tim, don’t you get it? What if someone else came with me, and he killed those women? I should have been able to take him down when it came to it. I should’ve, but I couldn’t, and I don’t know what that says about me, but there it is.” And there was that almost crippling self-esteem issues that managed to sneak to the surface every now and then. Steph took a steadying breath before looking at Tim, blue meeting blue. “I couldn’t imagine if one of you guys got hurt there.” He didn’t take her snapping at him personally. If their roles had been reversed, Tim would’ve been snapping at her too. He didn’t say anything until he’d secured the bandage and he kept his hands at her waist as she looked at him. “Steph,” he said, and it pained him to hear that kind of self doubt in her voice. “You’re one of us. Don’t doubt that for a second. This is exactly what he wants, for you to doubt yourself.” She was better than this and they both knew that. One hand came up to cup her cheek, the side that wasn’t so badly bruised, and maybe it was a bit presumptuous of him to touch her like that, but he wanted to reassure her that she wasn’t alone. That someone cared about her. “I know, Steph. Trust me, I know. But we all knew what we signed up for when we took up our various mantles. And we’re always stronger together. Always.” They’d always worry about each other too, but there was no way any of them would have been out on the streets if Bruce hadn’t had faith in them. Tim offered her a warm smile and moved his hand to brush some of her hair away before letting his hand fall away. “I want to get some ice for that bruise and a washcloth to clean up the blood. Do you want sweats to wear, or just blankets?” She definitely wasn’t moving too much anytime soon so either was fine with him. When his hand cupped her cheek, she instinctively leaned into the touch, eyes drifting shut for just a moment. She wouldn’t admit that she missed this, that she missed him, but her reactions were proof enough. Things were different here in this Gotham, but that didn’t mean that she was ready to let him back in, or that she should. The pain medication, however, made her a little less wary and aware of her own actions. She listened to his words of reassurance with her eyes closed, even if she didn’t quite believe them, and she didn’t open them until she felt his hand leave her face. Slowly, she blinked open again and bit back a sigh. “Sweats,” she said because laying in your underwear in your ex-boyfriend’s bed wasn’t the brightest idea no matter what kind of condition she was in. Before she could fight the urge within the drug-haze, her hand drifted up to brush her fingers through his hair. Smiling, she said, “Thanks, Tim.” Her fingers hung spread against his jawline as she stared at him, and yeah, maybe she felt a couple of butterflies. Maybe. It was a strange situation to find themselves in, between this Gotham and the different times they came from. It didn’t change everything they’d been through together, or his feelings for her. They’d been through so much together and even if he was mad at her for hiring an assassin to make him better and for sending Grayson after him when he wanted to go after Bruce, she was still Steph. There’d always be a place in his heart for her, but things were complicated and now definitely wasn’t the time to try and hash things out. “You got it,” he said softly, smiling in return when she thanked him. Before he could think about it, he turned his head just slightly to brush his lips against her fingers. “You’re welcome, Steph.” He pulled away then, because that was what was best for both of them. He went to the chest of drawers along the opposite wall and pulled out sweatpants and a zip up hoodie that would be easiest for her to get on. It didn’t take much time at all to get her dressed and then he went into the kitchen area to put some ice in a bag for her. “Can I get you anything else?” he asked, coming back into the bedroom to sit next to her again. The brush of his lips against her fingers felt like a jolt of electricity running through her veins, but she couldn’t afford to feel like that, not now. Not when she just got her ass handed to her by Riddler, not while villains treated Gotham as their personal playground, not when she had to protect herself, and Damian, and even the other members of the BatFamily. No, Tim Drake could not be a distraction, Stephanie Brown. No siree. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t do this, right? And that didn’t mean she couldn’t ask him to stay with her. “No, I’m good. Just--.” She paused for a moment, holding her hand out for the bag of ice, but it could have looked like she was waiting for something else. And though she hated being vulnerable, there she was, sitting in his bed pumped full of pain meds, and riddled with injuries. Couldn’t get more vulnerable around an ex, she decided quickly. “Stay with me, okay?” He would’ve given her anything she asked for, even if she wanted him to go away. There was a small sigh of relief when she asked for him to stay with her. “You got it,” Tim replied warmly, handing her the ice. “Just let me change first.” If they ended up falling asleep, and he had a feeling they would, he wanted to wear something that wasn’t the Red Robin suit. He grabbed another pair of sweats and a Gotham U tee before heading into the bathroom. A few minutes later, he came back out and hung up the suit in the back of his closet. Tim sat next to her on the bed, his back against the headboard, and he held out his arms for her if she wanted to get closer. He wasn’t going to force her into anything, but he did want her to be comfortable. “Good,” she said when he agreed. Steph wondered briefly what Damian would say about this since the baby bird was hardly Tim’s biggest fan, but she couldn’t focus on that at the moment. The pain and the pain medication just wouldn’t let her. She pressed the ice against her bruised cheek with great eagerness, the cold pressure a great relief to the pain throbbing right underneath her eye. Waiting patiently while he changed, Steph greeted Tim with a soft, exhausted smile, already feeling the fatigue dragging her under, and she went into his arms without hesitation. Her head found its place on his chest, and her arms around his waist, and she sighed with slight content. |