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This isn’t the worst trouble Jason’s been in, even before he became Robin. But it is the first time he’s been in this kind of trouble with a kid to rescue. Alvin is twelve and currently pretty freaked out by the heavily-bleeding gash in Jason’s leg. That and the concussion are not doing Jason any favors right now.
“Just-c’mere, there’s a knife in my belt. You cut my hands free, and then I’ll do yours.” He’s already tried to untie his own hands, but the knots are complicated and he’s not the most dexterous right now. His hands feel like static, circulation cut off by how tight the ropes are. They hadn’t done the kid up nearly as tightly, thankfully. Extra security for known escape artist Robin.
Alvin wipes his eyes on his sleeve and shuffles in close to get to the pouch the knife is in. He struggles to open it, and he’s clumsy sawing at Jason’s bonds, but he manages to cut through the rope. Jason brings his hands in front of him and flexes his fingers a bit as the painful sensation of circulation returning to them starts up.
“Great job. Your turn.” He takes the knife and frees Alvin. Now all they have to do is get the hell out of here before someone comes back to dispose of them or whatever.
He braces himself against the wall and pushes to his feet, stumbling a little when his injured leg protests and his head swims. Alvin’s at his side in an instant, hovering as if his scrawny ass would be able to catch Jason if he fell.
“I’m okay.” He waves the kid off. But it’s safe to say he won’t be running any time soon. That limits their options for escape. Alvin seems to be thinking the same, looking up at the window Jason’s not fit to climb out of with despair. He sniffles, a pathetic little sound, as his eyes go wet.
“It’s all my fault.” He murmurs.
“What? No, it’s- hey, c’mon, please don’t cry. We’re gonna be okay.”
“If I hadn’t been dumb enough to get caught, they wouldn’t have been able to hurt you, and then you wouldn’t be stuck here.” Alvin rubs at his eyes. “Batman’s gonna hate me.”
“No, he’s not.” Jason assures him.
“He is. I got you hurt and now you won’t be able to be Robin while you heal, and he’ll probably have to come rescue us.” Alvin insists with a little hitch in his breath, tears running down his cheeks. “Don’t-don’t say anything, just… give me a second.”
He takes a deep breath and wipes his eyes again, and then he just. Stops crying, face held carefully neutral.
“Okay. I’m good now, sorry for acting like a baby.”
Uh, what? What kind of twelve-year-old acts like he’s set a timer on crying in a situation like this? And hey, why is he holding his hand like that? “What’s wrong with your wrist?”
“Um, I fell on it when they threw me in here. It’s fine, it’s not as bad as your leg.” He lowers it to his side and tucks it slightly behind him as if Jason’ll just forget about it. “You have first aid stuff in your belt, right? I can help.”
Together they slap a quick field dressing on the wound and wrap it to keep a little more of Jason’s blood inside him. Alvin’s totally different, like he’d flipped a switch when he decided to stop crying.
“We need a plan.” He says when the first aid is done. “I think I could get out the window, but I can’t just leave you here. And I’m not strong enough to get you up there.”
He looks around the room, surveying the remnants of industrial equipment as if they’ll give him the secret to getting out of here. Jason watches as he paces over to kick at a pile of rusted chain and winces at the sound of it clinking.
Okay, concussion or no concussion, Jason can get them both out of here. He’s Robin, it’s his job to come up with a plan. It’s just a little hard to feel the Robin magic with his head pounding like this. He looks up at the window, and around at the junk.
“You’re sure you can reach the window?” He checks, and Alvin stops and turns back to him.
“Yeah, but—“
“Do you think you could give me a boost? If I could reach that big gouge in the wall, I could get myself up onto the ledge even with the bad leg.”
Alvin looks at him for a moment, then nods sharply.
“I can do it.”
“Atta boy.” Jason encourages him as he hobbles towards the wall below the window.
It takes some experimenting. Alvin can’t lift Jason up high enough, and he’s too short to get down on his hands and knees and let Jason stand on his back to reach. They end up with Jason on Alvin’s shoulders, leg burning from getting up there.
“Can you reach?” Alvin grunts below him as he stretches out for a handhold where wall is missing a chunk of concrete.
“Almost. Stand on your toes.”
Alvin shifts, and Jason gets just that little bit higher. It’s enough. He grabs onto the exposed rebar and hauls himself up off of Alvin’s shoulders, bracing his good foot against the wall to push himself upwards until he can grab the ledge of the window and drag himself up onto it.
“Aright, c’mon.” He scoots to one side to make room for Alvin and looks down at him. The kid backs up, takes a running start, and does a clearly well-practiced wall run that propels him two steps up the wall until he can grab the ledge. Jason helps him climb up onto it.
“Nice.” He says, and Alvin flushes, smiling shyly. “Now, let’s see what things look like out there.”
They turn to peer through the cloudy glass of the window together. Jason rubs a bit of dust away with his thumb to see better.
“I don’t see any movement.” Alvin reports, and Jason’s inclined to agree.
“I’m gonna break the window, sit tight.” He has a ceramic-tipped tool in his belt just for breaking glass with less noise and more control, and he strikes quickly at the corners of the lower pane with it. He does what he can to bring the shards inside instead of letting them fall to the ground below, but each blow is jarring for his aching head. He’ll just have to hope there’s no one down there to hear anything fall.
The outside wall is crumbling brick, with the faded paint of old advertising still barely visible. Their window is a few feet away from a wall around the factory grounds. The top’s big enough to stand on, easy.
“Think you can jump over there?” He checks with Alvin, who nods.
“Yeah, but what about you?”
“I’ll make it.” It’s gonna hurt, but he can push off with his good leg and land on both feet. Alvin looks skeptical, but they’re kind of in a hurry, so Jason pushes on. “You first.”
The kid crawls out onto the narrower ledge outside the window, pushes himself up into a crouch, and leaps. Jason’s nerves are like a stretched-out rubber band ready to snap, but Alvin lands safely on the top of the wall. Jason’s turn, then.
He takes a deep breath before he jumps, and then he’s hitting the top of the wall with both feet. The combination of the strain on his leg and the concussion messing with his balance has him gasping and teetering until Alvin steadies him. He has to sit down for a moment.
“Robin, your leg!” Alvin points at the bandage and the growing red blotch on it.
“I’ll live.” Jason grunts and pushes himself back up, feeling nauseous. “Go, that way. We need to find a good place to jump down and get away from here.”
They hurry along the wall, crouched low to be less visible. Jason scans the ground below until he spots a dumpster pushed up against the wall. They jump down onto it, and from there to the ground. Jason nearly crumples, and Alvin drags him into the corner where dumpster meets wall at the sound of approaching tires.
“Wait—“ Jason sticks his head out, because the car doesn’t sound like any normal vehicle. The Batmobile pulls up across the street, the dark shape of Batman emerging from the driver’s seat. “Batman! Over here!”
He steps out from their little hiding spot, and Bruce sweeps in to inspect them both for injuries.
“Robin, report.” He barks.
“Alvin’s wrist is probably sprained.” Jason prioritizes the civilian injury. “I have a concussion, and a laceration on my leg. We were captured, but we escaped.”
“I’m fine, I’ll take care of it at home.” Alvin pipes up. “Um… do you think if you’re going to arrest those guys that you could get my backpack back?”
Bruce turns his attention to the kid, who turns shy.
“Sorry, it’s just that my camera was in there…”
“Dude.” Jason says, not totally unsympathetically. Alvin wilts.
“What did you say your name was?” Bruce asks.
“Alvin, sir.” He says, face oddly blank.
“Try again.” Bruce rumbles.
“…Tim.” Alvin—who is apparently not Alvin—admits.
“Tim Drake, if I’m not mistaken.”
Tim nods.
“Your name sounds familiar. Where do I know you from?” Jason’s a little too concussed for extended conversation. Now that he doesn’t have a goal to push towards or the adrenaline of the escape, he feels tired and kind of dizzy. His leg aches. He wants to lie down. But he asks anyway. He isn’t expecting the response.
“We go to the same school, and I live next door.” Tim shrugs, then freezes. “Um.”
“What?”
“Um. You’re hearing things because you got hit in the head?” Tim tries. Bruce stares down at him, inscrutable in the cowl. “I’m sorry, I didn’t go looking for it! I just happened to put it together, and I swear I’ve never told anyone!”
“I think it’s time we got in the car.” Bruce says, clearly intending to make this conversation more private. Tim looks nervous.
“Am I being kidnapped?”
“Yep.”
“Robin.” Bruce says, reprimanding. Jason just shrugs.
Tim still climbs into the backseat with Jason, caught somewhere between awe and horror.
“I’m being kidnapped by Batman.” He breathes, and Jason shrugs.
“How do you think I got the job?”
“Robin!”