Tim didn't remember much from before the black out. He felt himself falling in a trash bin, bleeding and his body screaming in pain. A bad fight left him hurt and exhausted. He tried to stand back up, but he was barely able to walk; His body crashed back on the garbage.

Tim remembered hearing footsteps. Then, a voice, a worried stranger. He growled in mumblings as he heard the stranger speaking about getting him to the hospital⏤it would be too dangerous for his identity. What if the doctors took the opportunity to see who was under his Red Robin's mask? Tim couldn't let it happen.

He saw a camera in the stranger's hands. He even managed to recognise the latter's face, one of those noisy journalists who kept seeking the most thrilling information. His tired and stressed mind couldn't help but spiral. Yet, he didn't have the time to complain much and immediately fell unconscious.

Tim's eyes flickered as he woke up, trying to get used to the light on top of him. He groaned. As he looked down at his body, his injuries were patched. He saw the bandages around him and sighed, relieved.

He panicked suddenly when he glanced around. It wasn't a familiar apartment. Tim saw many newspapers, articles, and pictures scattered in the living room. He put his hands at his mask, making sure that the stranger didn't remove it. Thankfully, his secret identity had been respected. "Thank goodness..."

Tim carefully stood up, almost stumbling, wincing at his covered injuries. He went at the window, pulling the curtains a way to glance outside. He recognised the street where he crashed. It was still the night. The place seemed safe. He tried to ignore the pain from his injuries.

He stopped when he heard footsteps in the next room. Someone was coming. When he'll faced the stranger, he wasn't so sure of how to react. Maybe a little thank you should work. All he hoped was that he didn't get himself in a bigger mess by letting a journalist help him.