Chapter Text
Tonight was not an easy night. The May heat did not cool down even after the sunset; it seemed to seep through the very soil, keeping it warm. In such weather, it can be hard to breathe after long chases or serious confrontations. The air acquired an uncharacteristic density, and it stuck to the skin, weighting down the armor and with it, the movements. But for some reason, it was during these days that the city was going mad. Tim lost count of how many street muggings and crimes they managed to prevent overnight.
And now, by accident, he was witnessing another onslaught in a narrow little street. He was on his way to Batman’s location; they agreed to cover certain grounds, and Tim was honored to get a part of Crime Alley to patrol. After all, it was his predecessor’s home, and Tim must do everything in his power to keep this place safe. As safe as Gotham can be anyway.
It looked like the thugs knocked the person to the ground and didn’t let them get up with all their combined strength. The sparse lighting of the lamps and the playing shadows didn’t help to identify the victim of the attack. And only when he approached the ill-fated street, hiding in the darkness of the alley like under a cape, was he able to determine all the participants of this brawl.
‘Do not rush into battle without full data,’ Batman’s words sounded in his head, and Tim, being led only by a cool head, decided to take a closer look before starting to break up the fight. He first has to figure out which side he should take. It might as well just be a misunderstanding between small gangs.
There were three attackers; they were young but had a stocky stature. Based on their uncoordinated movements and clumsy blows, it was evident that they were still green. Their screams and convulsive attempts to knock down and finally neutralize the victim were proof of that.
But the victim, with a lightning jerk, freed themselves from under the two bandits who had piled on them, and with an inhuman roar, they charged at the third gang member’s hand, who was standing at a distance. He cried out of pain and, unable to resist the weight of the victim, was knocked over by them. The clang of jaws, the crunch of bones, and heart-rending screams filled the alley. For a second, Tim even felt sorry for him, so piteously the young man moaned, holding his hand while being curled on the asphalt. For a full-fledged Crime Alley anthem, the only thing missing was the whistle of bullets.
The ringing of the cartridges drowned out the guy's screams.
‘Ah, here it is,’ Tim thought mournfully to himself.
One of the two still standing pulled out a gun, but it was shanking in his hand. An insecure shooter and a gunshot are a dangerous combination. The time to make a choice is running out; Tim needs to act before both parties are mortally wounded yet.
"Are you a moron, or what? Do you wanna graze Harry? And we need him alive!"
"Damn it! For hell’s sake!" the shooter mumbeled hysterically, emptying the entire magazine.
The victim got down on all fours and growled deep in its throat. Bright green eyes glittered unnaturally on a massive torso as dark as night. It bared its bloody fangs. Tim could not believe his eyes.
Wolf!
It was a gigantic black wolf!
And he was furious.
But what is a wild animal doing in Gotham? The nearest forests are a few dozen kilometers from the city.
"Jack, the noose!" shouted the one whom Tim assumed was the leader of the gang. He was next to his wounded friend.
The wolf was too fast, and the thug was too scared and unexperienced. The animal took advantage of the moment and latched on to the knee of the guy with the gun. He tried to hit the beast with the handle of the weapon, but it did no damage. And before he could have done anything else, the wolf’s jaws closed on his leg, and for the second time that night, a gut-wrenching sound was heard. The thug’s kneecap must be shattered.
Tim sometimes watched Animal Planet as a small child, and he knows that although the jaws of the wolf are not as strong as those of a crocodile or shark, they are capable of gnawing through the bones of their prey.
Tim was petrified. Never in his entire life had he encountered such a powerful animal. It dealt with two armed criminals, inexperienced but still criminals, who were clearly after it.
But what if it was a dangerous animal?
Obviously, duh, not a domestic dachshund, Tim’s inner voice reproached him, but Tim ignored it.
What if this wolf is an escaped toy or a gift from another mob, and those petty wanna-be thugs are trying to return it to its owner? But they might as well be second-rate poachers, and somehow their catch slipped out of their grasp.
Ah, well. Tim will have to stand for the animal anyway. He can’t get rid of this strange slimy feeling inside, which won’t resolve until he saves the wolf.
The wolf didn’t have time to unclench his jaws as the leader picked up an iron rod somewhere from the ground and hit the animal on the head from behind. If such a blow had been inflicted on a human, it could have been lethal. But the wolf only stumbled and shook his head.
The sneer on the leader’s face was quickly washed away by horror when the wolf rose on his hind legs to its full height and his demonic muzzle with burning green eyes reached the guy’s face.
The animal knocked him over and was ready to tear his face apart as a batarang passed the muzzle by 10 centimeters and forced the wolf to freeze. The mad eyes now stared straight at Robin; the look was so burning that only experience of interacting with Bruce helped him not to look away.
"Uhh," Robin drawled awkwardly, "Drop it?"
The beast growled. Then abruptly, his whole being shifted focus to something in the distance; his head turned to the east, towards the center of Crime Alley. His long, pointed ears, like locators, caught the slightest sounds, and his nose began to sniff actively. Deciding something for himself, the wolf sprinted in the opposite direction and quickly disappeared into the labyrinths of gloomy streets.
"No, wait!" Robin rushed after him. Tim didn’t call an ambulance because he knew that the leader was conscious and not injured. This gang of losers can take care of themselves, but if they attempt to assault the paramedics... it’s a risk Tim doesn’t want to take. After all, this is still the most troubled neighborhood.
The wolf was quite nimble for his bulk, the tar fur served perfectly as a disguise. But Robin could fly; he didn’t have to run.
Tim almost caught up to him when Batman contacted him and required immediate assistance. Once again, something related to the Penguin. Lately he has been acting quite boldly, not trying to hide his intentions. And Cobblepot is not one of those who would do something with his own hands. Batman has every right to give in to his paranoia.
Meanwhile, the wolf has already vanished from sight.
'A suspicious agility for an animal: he is either somewhere from this place or he has a phenomenal smell,' Tim allowed himself to reflect before heading to the meeting point.
-/-
In the end, Dynamic Duo couldn’t figure out what Cobblepot’s motives were. But Tim is hopeful; they have a couple of leads and time. This is definitely just one of those really well-disguised but typically boring cases of weapon trafficking. Tim’s betting that they will crack this case by the end of the week.
Various thoughts crossed his mind during his walk back home. School didn’t worry him; the weekend was just approaching, and Tim usually did all his homework in advance anyway. He has so much free time, and the whole Drake Manor is at his disposal. Janet and Jack should return only in July, but in Tim’s experience, the digs conducted in the summer are the most valuable ones. His parents always came with great treasures at this time of the year. And Tim is really happy for them; he truly is. It’s just that sometimes he envied those artifacts that received those proud and excited looks from his parents.
He selfishly wished that it could have been him on the receiving end of that praise. But that’s okay; Tim’s familiar with rules now, and he knows he hasn’t done anything important for his parents to notice him. He just has to become a better son, a better student, a better heir. He has to uproot all his shortcomings, so what is left of him is clean, level soil. Maybe then he can find something in him that is worth more than what Jack and Janet have been recovering from the lands of once-thriving civilizations.
And to be honest, the boy hasn’t decided yet whether he likes this kind of solitude or not, but it always follows him like a sticky shadow. No matter day or night, it wrapped him like a thin, prickly blanket that has never brought any warmth.
Tim was reaching the front gates when a suspicious rustle of bushes distracted him. Every cell in his body became alert, trembled, and the whole body switched to a survival mode.
Something between a dog and a bear jumped out of the green and began chaotically running along the road. There were no logic or grace in its movements, growls were replaced by whining. And only the luminescent glow of green eyes helped Tim identify the creature.
Again, he met this wolf, but now he was behaving extremely strangely. It doesn’t look like he is following a trail or searching for something. He lacked the impression of purposefulness, his eyes devoid of awareness, reflecting only green,green,green. If this were a person, people would have said he’s gone feral with madness.
The animal looked out of control, was rushing from side to side, as if there were not asphalt under his paws but hot coals.
At some point, the wolf stopped abruptly, and it finally noticed him and was preparing for a strike when the wolf suddenly pitched violently to the ground without a sound.
Tim waited for a minute, then another, but the animal remained motionless. This encouraged the cautious boy to come closer; now the distance between them was not more than 5 meters. Even from there, heavy breathing could be heard.
‘The poor thing must be in pain,’ Tim thought to himself.
He can’t just leave it be; it’s clearly packless, lonely, and lost in these foreign forests of glass, concrete, and soot. According to the signs of such behavior, the animal can have rabies, and Tim probably should not deal with it alone, should call Animal Control and leave the matter to professionals.
If the wolf indeed is rabid, then his days are numbered. And if Tim is not careful enough, his are too.
Animal Control will most certainly shoot the wolf. Yeah, the probability of such an outcome will be around 98,7%. And it will be the right decision—rabies is incurable, fatal, and contagious; the infection itself is painful and fleeting.
But... there is still 1,3% left that the animal is experiencing extreme exhaustion and is in way too deep panic.
Tim is not the one who looks at the glass and sees it either full or empty—he is one of those who’ll conduct chemical and structural analysis of each substance and present it in the form of an academic article.
Tim does not believe; he knows.
He knows well enough the outcome when probability meets hopefulness.
But right now, something as fragile as the light of a thin candle burning on the winter night fills his numb body.
Somewhere deep-deep down, Tim dreams of allowing himself to believe. However, dry facts have proven their efficiency as a survival tool. Tim wore them like a shell, whereas hope always left him broken beyond repair.
The hope, that his parents will stay for more than a day at a time. The hope, that he will be able to befriend someone at school who will appreciate his abilities and not despise him for them. The hope, that Tim really helps people every time he goes out on patrol and comes back with wounds and broken bones.
The hope that he is needed.
And now, perhaps for the first time, someone’s life is completely in his hands, and damn him if he does not try to save it.
It was a tragedy, really, to see such a magnificent creature ebbing away.
The candle burned brightly, the fire began to devour the wax.
But it wasn’t the first time Tim sacrifices himself, isn’t it?
Tim picked up a stick from the side of the road and gently poked the wolf with it, yet the beast hasn’t reacted.
‘It could be a trap as well,’ the paranoia whispered, ‘you've crossed your paths the second time this night, and now he is almost before your house threshold.’
This is hardly a sophisticated trick, rather an ordinary accident.
But accidents aren’t random, are they?
Boy’s head was reaching a boiling point by this moment from the speed with which one thought chased another. Faith fought with indecision and, eventually, won.
Tim crept closer until he was within touching distance and sat down next to the wolf without dropping the impromptu self-defense weapon. The boy tried to call the beast, but it showed no signs of consciousness. The wolf was lying on his side, eyes half-lidded, breathing shallow.
Tim slowly reached out with his hand and put it on the ribs in hopes of getting some reaction. The fur was surprisingly smooth, even soft, but a strange stickiness made the boy pull his hand away.
Blood!
Wolf’s side was bleeding!
He must have been hurt, and the black fur hid the wounds perfectly. Although it was most likely not the only cause of the animal's current state.
The boy began to wake up the animal, but neither his voice nor his touch had the proper effect. Then Tim tried to haul the animal on his back, but it turned out to be so heavy that Tim almost tore his back trying. The wolf must weight at least eighty kilograms.
However, physical strength was not Tim’s streak; he always relied on his intelligence.
They are pretty close to the Drake Manor—two minutes away if you're running. Gardeners stopped coming to care for their yard a long time ago, as Tim’s parents didn’t see much value in it. But somewhere in the gardener’s house, he saw a wheelbarrow big enough to fit a wolf in it.
"I promise, I’ll come back for you; just wait," Tim begged the wolf. Whom these words should have comforted more, the boy didn’t know.
With a solid plan in his heart, Tim stubbornly hastened to the manor.
He prayed to all possible deities to give that animal a little more time. The overwhelming pressure settled heavily in his chest at the thought that the wolf would be left in an unknown place, vulnerable and in pain, without anyone who could protect him.
But emotions never helped Tim in life-and-death situations, so he habitually drowned them out, buried them deep inside, and listened to the voice of reason.
And the voice told him to save.