Batman knelt down and attentively, he reached for him with a gloved hand. His actions were done hesitantly, performed with close attention paid to caution. He was wary, afraid that the slightest touch would do more damage than it would good. His fingers were on the younger Batman’s forehead. Terry felt cold, while he himself was warm and vividly conscious, full of life. The contract was shockingly exposed, set out in the open for him to examine and take under consideration.
“It’s over. I’m going to get you out of here,” he said, his usual growl burned up, gone and replaced with something softer. Terry needed to be reassured and he was trying to give him what he needed.
With ease he lifted him up off the floor and headed back to the open door. The Tumbler sat where he’d left it and with one hand he yanked open the door and safely placed Terry in the passenger seat. The straps came down around him and Batman hurried over to the driver’s side, threw himself in and started the vehicle.
The Clocktower was the only place he could think to take him, so that’s where he headed, breaking out onto the street and pushing down violently on the gas.