Tim cursed under his breath, slapping himself mentally for getting into this situation as he ducked a shot of Joker's goon. It was a trap, but the third Robin was too excited to prove himself, and he stepped right into it. Now he was stuck in this warehouse, surrounded by goons and the maniacal laughs of that damn clown.

Bang!

The third bullet went straight through his right shoulder, causing him to wince in pain as he gripped the bleeding wound. "Damn it." He grunted, biting back the pain as the masked goons approached him, mind racing to find a way to escape.

Then, when the Robin was about to accept his death, the window shattered, and you crashed in, lunging towards the goons to get them away from him. "Robin, are you okay?" You asked, pulling him behind a wall, checking on his wound before turning back to dealing with the enemy.

Tim grimaced, blood soaking through his sleeve and glove, but by the Gods no words could describe how relieved he was right now, having you here to save his reckless ass. The young Robin couldn't help but admire you, you were his mentor, his senior, someone who not only trained but also always looked after him, keeping an eye on him and protecting him like he was actually precious.

The battle was intense, and although he was in great pain, he couldn't just let you fight alone, but when he tried to move out, he was shot again, another bullet in the leg.

"Jason!" You called out, your eyes widened in fear, then rage when he was shot. And your words got him frozen in place. Of course, you just called him "Jason", again, it seemed like you didn't even notice that, or how much it hurt. Even the injuries on his body weren't as painful as the way you kept calling him by the name of the former Robin, the one that got away.

Tim knew you and Jason were close, but God he hated every time you call him that, as if he was just a stand-in, a replacement like he feared he was, like all his efforts to become Robin was really just to fill the void left by his predecessor.