Chapter Text
Tim woke with a start. Everything was perfectly black. Was he blind? Where was he? What had just happened to him?
He tried sitting up, but his head came into contact with wood. Ouch. Where…? I was… Stakeout. The crime family was… and we were… but I didn’t engage. His head really hurt. I guess I was ambushed.
He raised his hands, but they met wood. Wood to the side. Wood up above. Wood all around him. Wood.
An experimental push did nothing. He braced himself, pushing harder. Something was wrong with his right shoulder. I gotta get that---
Dirt showered down on his face, and Tim gasped, the sound abnormally loud in the near-silence. Shit. I’ve been buried.
He took a deep breath. Then another one. And then another. It would be okay, he decided; he could do this. First things first. Injuries? A strained shoulder, an old bloody nose, a concussion. Ouch. Bruises everywhere he could feel, which meant his unconscious body had probably been beaten around a little before they’d buried him. His feet were tied, and he couldn’t reach down to do anything about that. His belt & bandoleers were gone, and so was his phone. But his com--- Thank GOD. His com was still in his ear.
He pressed the button to log into the channel, hoping against hope that someone else was still on patrol. Silence greeted his ear.
“Hello?” he tried, his voice cracking over his dry throat. He swallowed nothing, licked his lips, and tried again. “This is Red Robin. Is anyone out there? I’m stuck; I need backup.”
Silence.
Tim’s throat constricted. “Please, can anyone hear me? Listen, I know it was a busy night, but I was jumped and I’m not sure where I am and I need help. Please, I’m trapped, I need… please, someone, ANYONE, do you read me?!”
A loud sigh finally crackled over the comlink, and Tim went weak with relief. “You’re such a disappointment, Red. I mean, what the hell? You got caught on a STAKEOUT?”
“Hood,” Tim breathed out. “Hood, please don’t---”
“You’re lucky I’m still on coms, buddy; everyone else is in bed,” Hood grumbled tiredly. “I’ll text the big boss; he’ll get to you soon.”
“Hood, wait, please!!!” Tim fought to keep his breathing steady, bracing his hands against the wood above his chest. “Hood, don’t hang up!!!”
“GOD, birdie, will you just---”
“Hood, I’m trapped, please don’t leave,” Tim choked out, his heartbeat thundering in his head. “They buried me alive, Jason, they BURIED me.”
A long silence fell. When Hood’s voice returned, it was flat. “What.”
“I’m buried, Hood,” Tim gasped out, spots dancing in his vision. “They took my belt and my gear and I can’t… I can’t…”
“Red,” Hood’s voice called, sounding very far away. “Tim, you’re panicking right now; I need you to breathe. Come on baby bird, breathe with me, okay? In… out… in… come on, Tim, listen to me. Breathe. Good. Keep--- good, that’s it; keep going.”
Tim fought with his body to obey. It seemed like forever before his breathing evened out once more, and he closed his eyes, ignoring the tears in his eyes. “Jason?”
“I’m here.” Hood’s voice sounded tight. “I’m heading to your last seen location. The Bats are on their way out, too. We’re gonna find you, baby bird, okay? I’m gonna get you out.”
“Okay,” Tim said breathlessly, knocking his head against the wood. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Just breathe for a second,” Hood told him, calm.
“Yeah,” Tim said again, licking his lips. He tasted blood. “I’m… I’m okay.”
“Can you answer questions?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, deep breaths. Listen very carefully. Can you hear anything? You’re gonna have to take your com out for a second.”
Tim’s heart shot into his throat. “What? No, I can’t---”
“You CAN,” Hood growled back. “I’m not going anywhere, baby bird, I swear. Just take it out for a few seconds; tell me what you hear.”
“Promise?” Tim bit out, clenching his hands so hard they shook. “Promise you’ll be here?”
“I promise I’m not going anywhere.”
Tim took a deep breath before digging the com out of his ear. He listened hard. The silence was deafening, and beyond that… nothing. No… something. A rushing sound. Cars? Water.
He shoved the com back in, chest tight. “Jason?”
“I’m here,” came the immediate answer. “What do you have?”
“There’s… water, I think. I hear a rushing sound.” Tim blinked as something wet landed on his cheek. “Shit. Jason, I think I’m… water. There’s water leaking through the wood.”
Jason released some heartfelt cursing. “You’re probably near the docks, then.”
“The tide’s coming in,” Tim murmured, his heartbeat jumping in his chest. “I’m gonna drown.”
“You’ll probably suffocate before you drown,” Hood reasoned tightly. “Although it’ll make it really hard to find the--- Hey, no, I’m just… Christ, I’m just thinking out loud, you don’t… Breathe, damn it. Deep slow breaths; I’m on my way.”
“Jason,” Tim whispered thickly, pushing against the lid of the box. The dirt that showered down was a bit wetter this time.
“I’m here, baby bird.”
“Where is he?” Nightwing’s voice cut in, sharp as an edge of steel.
“He’s by water; the tide’s coming in, so the box will be under in a few minutes unless we hurry,” Hood narrated breathlessly. “Oracle, come online, damn it. Do you have his location?”
“I’m narrowing it down; hang on a sec.”
“This is not the time to be sloppy,” Robin’s voice bit out, harsh to hide his worry. “Drake is buried and possibly drowning and if we do not find him before---”
“Cut the chatter,” Batman’s voice ground out. “Tim, can you hear us? Give me a status report.”
“He’s not gonna be able to---”
“Nightwing, hush, just because you’re---”
“Will you idiots just---”
“EVERYONE SHUT UP!!!” Hood’s voice roared. Immediate silence fell over the coms.
“Jason,” Tim gasped out, unable to stop the panicked whimper from entering his voice. “Please.”
“I’m here,” Hood answered quietly, his voice much more soothing than it had been a second ago. “Deep breaths Tim, okay?”
“Jason,” Tim burst out, his voice cracking. “I’m scared.”
A deafening silence fell.
“I know,” Hood finally answered, his tone strained. “I know, baby bird, and I’m coming as fast as I can. Just stay calm for me, alright? Let me hear you; deep breaths. I’m not going anywhere.”
Tim struggled to follow Hood’s instructions, allowing his breaths to be heard over the com.
“Good,” Hood praised soothingly, still breathless. “Good, keep counting them out. Oracle?”
“I’ve got his last ping,” Oracle told him, steel in her tone. “The northeast dockyard behind Stan’s.”
“ETA seven minutes,” Robin bit out.
“ETA ten,” Batman’s voice answered.
“Four,” Hood put in, and he grunted as his grapple snapped up his weight. “We’re coming now, Red, okay? Just keep breathing.”
“I’m---” Tim forced himself to quiet. Panicking would not help. Begging would not help. Crying WOULD NOT help. He had to stay quiet. Focus. Assess. Reevaluate.
“What if---” He choked on his words. Stopped. Breathed. Focused. The line was silent except for occasionally heavy breathing, and he knew, distantly, that his family was rushing to converge on his position. He’d be out in another ten minutes. TOPS.
He opened his mouth, feeling his jaw tremble. “What if you don’t make it?”
“We’ll make it,” Batman immediately growled, his tone practically DARING fate to take another Robin away before he got there in time. It was a helpless promise, and it made Tim’s stomach clench.
“I’ll make it,” Hood said gruffly, and for some reason, the meaning was different. Tim felt himself take another breath. That didn’t make sense. Hood had lied to him SO MANY TIMES; he had broken Tim’s body & left him for dead; he had ridiculed, roasted, and taunted the younger teen to no end. He had made these promises before. They had been LIES.
So why did Tim suddenly feel hope?
“I’ll make it,” Hood said again, his tone firmer, but something else now. Desperate. “You’re going to get out, baby bird, I swear it. I’m going to pull you up myself, do you hear me?”
Tim sucked in deep breaths. Hood’s words sounded oddly prophetic, and even through the panic, an odd sense of peace settled in Tim’s gut.
“No more dead Robins,” Hood was saying, and his mechanized tone cut right through the sound of water seeping into Tim’s narrow box. Batman made a pained grunt. Was that Tim’s imagination? “Deep breaths for me, Red. C’mon, say it. No more dead Robins.”
“No more dead Robins,” Tim repeated numbly, pushing at the lid of his box. More muddied water splashed in, and he choked, pulling his arms to his chest. “No… no more dead Robins. No more dead Robins. No more dead… no more. Dead. Robins.”
“Good,” Hood praised distantly. “Keep breathing just like that. I’m almost there.”
“No more dead Robins,” Tim repeated hoarsely, closing his eyes. He felt tears well up behind the lenses of his mask. He was going to drown. No… he was going to suffocate. He’d been in here a while, and the rising tide was cutting off more oxygen. No one would find him under the water. He would die in a grave already prepared.
At least it would save his family funeral costs.
“No…” he choked out, struggling to focus. The air was thin, but he had something real to tether him to reality, and as long as he kept repeating it, he was alive. “No more dead Robins. No more dead Robins. No more dead Robins.”
Hood’s voice muttered along in the background. Tim lost count of the repetition. All he knew was breathing. One sentence at a time. In. Out.
“I found a shovel,” Hood suddenly cut in. “That means that you’re probably not buried six feet; no one has time to dig a full grave at low tide without a backhoe.”
“Jason,” Tim wheezed out, pushing at the lid again. Don’t do that, his brain warned, but everything was getting fuzzy and the walls were closing in and he was lying in two inches of water now and he NEEDED OUT. “Please.”
“Hey, keep saying it,” Hood’s voice growled. “I’m coming; keep talking to me. No more dead what?”
“Robins,” Tim gasped out. He struggled to remember the rest. “No… No more dead Robins. Robins.”
“Good, keep going. I found the marks in the mud; this is you.” Hood grunted a few times. He was digging. “C’mon, baby bird. No more what?”
“Robin,” Tim gasped out, his vision swimming. Panic squeezed his chest. Terror. “Robin.”
The com fell silent.
“Robin,” Tim whimpered breathlessly, fumbling at his side for tools that weren’t there. “Please, Robin, please…”
“Yeah,” the voice answered, strained, but achingly familiar. “Yeah… I’m here.”
“I’m sorry,” Tim rasped out, closing his eyes again. “There’s… There’s so much… I never…”
“Hey, don’t do that,” the voice cut in, sharp. “Don’t say that stuff; save it for another day. You’re not dying, baby bird. I’m getting you out. You’re almost out. No more dead Robins.”
“No more dead Robins.” Tim sucked in a shallow breath. “No more d… dead…”
Something hit the top of the box, and Tim jolted, adrenaline spiking through his oxygen-deprived brain. A moment later, the lid was wrenched open to the cloudy night sky, and water was pouring in on all sides and Tim was drowning and---
A gloved hand reached down, grasping his arm, tugging. Tim didn’t have to do more than brace his tied legs, because the arm heaved him out of the box as if he weighed nothing, instantly pinning him to an armored chest.
“Robin,” Tim muttered shakily, clutching at the shoulders that bracketed him like a promise.
“I’ve got you,” Jason’s voice affirmed, and it shook, but it was REAL, and Tim tucked his face against an armored throat like it was the only safe place in the entire world. A gentle hand pressed to his wet hair, and the other held him tight. “I’ve got you, baby bird; you’re okay.”
“Please don’t leave,” Tim whispered hoarsely.
“I won’t.” A human chin pressed to Tim’s hair, digging against his skull. Territorial body-language.
Tim sagged in relief, finally allowing himself to drift. His brain was too tired to keep up with it; rescue and hug and relief and old panic and new fears and scathing whispers all at once. He just wanted to BREATHE. “No more dead Robins.”
Robin made a strangled sound, but the arms hugged him tighter, keeping him safe. “Yeah… damn straight.”
Tim would be okay.