Nobody Was Around to Warn Me

2

Damian found civilization easily enough, the sun was rising as he skirted the edge of town. The town was painstakingly ordinary, Damian stuck out like a sore thumb in his Robin suit. Stealing clothes off a clothesline was simple: child play for someone like Damian. The clothes were too big on Damian's small frame, though he could not complain.

With the blending figured out, now it was time to find out where he was. At least it was an English-speaking nation, that narrowed down possible locations, the people also had a distinct accent. The thick Southern drawl was unmistakable, he was still in America—although more south-west than he previously was.

He was going to need somewhere to put his Robin suit, leaving it stashed in some bushes was not a good plan—carrying it around was not either. Taking a breath Damian walked into the local store, he was greeted by an old woman who gave him an odd look.

"Could you tell me what this town is called? I've misplaced my map," Damian said, projecting the facade of a scared teen.

"Oh sweetie, this is Curdsville...Kentucky," The woman tacked on when Damian did not seem to recognize the name of the town.

"Oh, thanks," Damian said, mentally cursing, how did he get to Kentucky?

"You need anything kiddo?"

Damian internally cringed at the label, "A bag and a map would be appreciated."

The old woman directed Damian to where the bags were while she went to grab a map from behind her. He picked out a discreet black bag that was the perfect size to fit his Robin suit. Walking back to the counter he placed the bag on the counter, glancing at the landline it seemed to have been disturbed.

"Is that all?"

"Yes," Damian said, placing the bag in front of her.

The old woman smiled a bit too wide and slowly punched the items into the machine in front of her. Damian's eyes narrowed, she was stalling for time; he pressed the bills into her hand and hurried out of the store. She called after him but he kept moving slipping out of her sight.

Damian kept moving even as he heard sirens loudly blaring somewhere behind him. He moved to where he had hidden his Robin suit, hunkering in the tall grass he watched the road intently. Two cop cars went speeding by, and Damian cursed under his breath. He had tried not to seem suspicious; what had tipped the woman off enough to call the police on him?

Slowly approaching the road Damian's eyes drifted to the street sign, Dick Street, it said. Something inside of Damian clenched at the sight, it would be a while until he got back to the manor, he was across the country in butt-fuck-no-where Kentucky. Damian blinked, if the map he was looking at was correct then the nearest airport was roughly 100 miles with a river between it and Damian. He let out a long sigh, this was going to be a long day it seemed.

||

Tim was stressed—of course, he was—his little brother was passed out and bleeding profusely in an alleyway. Tearing off his cape he pressed it against the open wound.

"I need immediate medical assistance," Tim shouted into his comm, his hands trembling as they became soaked with Damian's blood, "Robin down."

He could not hear what was being said to him over the ringing in his ears. A choked sob escaped Tim's throat, he could not recall when he started crying. He was hunched over the limp body of his brother, shielding him from the rain. Tim could feel Damian's slowing heart under his palm, he felt bile rise in his throat. Was this the end? Was his baby brother going to die in this alley?

A heavy hand fell on Tim's shoulder, he could not stop the full-body flinch that wracked through him. Tim's eyes drifted to the body attached to the hand, a familiar body suit of black and blue met his hesitant gaze.

"Tim," Dick said, a tremor in his voice.

Tim bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, "Damian—Damian—"

Dick shushed Tim, moving to crouch down next to Damian, pressing two fingers to the boy's neck. There was a pulse—Tim could feel it under his fingers—Dick's arms looped underneath Damian. With a grunt, Dick hoisted him up careful not to aggravate his wounds further. Tim stared at the blood staining the concrete where Damian had been lying.

Silently Tim followed after Dick, his ears felt like they had been stuffed with cotton. Distantly he recognized the shitty car Dick had bought back when he first learned to legally drive. Tim fell into the passenger seat, and Damian was thrust into his arms. A moment later and they were speeding off to the cave, Tim held onto Damian like a lifeline.