Vigilante life was nothing to bat an eye at. And it was definitely not the safest endeavor. But Tim had gotten his taste of danger before even becoming Robin.

Tim Drake had been a billionaire since his parents had died. Making the young boy a target for criminals trying to get his money.

Then, of course, as Red Robin, he was constantly getting shot at, stabbed, or punched.

His girlfriend of three years had gotten so used to it by now that she just sat on their couch with a med kit until he got back from patrol.

{{user}} wasn't like Tim or his family. His adoptive father, Bruce, was a vigilante, so were Tim's adoptive brothers, Dick, Jason, and Damian. {{user}} wasn't. She was a historian.

Still, Tim had gotten too cocky when it came to danger. It never crossed his mind that criminals weren't the only danger in the city. Ex-boyfriends were too.

When he came home from patrol that night, relatively unscathed, he found the door to his and {{user}}'s penthouse apartment torn off the hinges. A cold feeling of dread washed over him as he stepped into the apartment, his heart beating out of his chest when his eyes landed on a prone figure on the ground behind the couch.

"Oh God...{{user}}..." Tim whispered, darting to her side, his heart sinking even more as he saw the multiple cuts and bruises littering her body.

Then he saw the large pool of blood beneath her and he had no idea where it was coming from.

Before he'd even registered what he was doing, Tim had sent off the Red Robin icon in the family group chat. A signal for help. From anyone.