Unmasked

Summary:
September 27, 2014: Robin unmasks Spoiler… for her own good

Gotham


Characters

NPCs

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Mood Music:

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Patrol has been particularly busy tonight. So far Robin has managed to subdue three drug dealers, two muggers, two would-be rapists, and a kid just randomly walking around with a knife (Tim didn't really blame him, although he did put the kid in a cab and confiscate the knife, because really). Currently, however, the fight breaking outside a club in Chinatown is more concerning than any of the above. Mostly because it has potential to go badly very very quickly. Not because anyone in the line, getting ready to riot, is actually a trained assassin.

Robin ducks as one of the fellows follows through with a very nasty right hook. The good news is it's nothing compared to Batman's. With a smirk, Robin counterattacks with his staff, sweeping toward the assailant's knees. The flow behind Robin (who he'd essentially broken up the fight with) moves to lunge forward, but with a tight spin, the Boy Wonder follows through with the staff, managing to knock the second fellow down as well. "Look guys, there's no reason to fight over this — you're both drunk. Can't you see you're both drunk?"

Spoiler has been out of sight over the last couple of days, her family business giving her some trouble yesterday, and she turns up now, like a bad penny, emerging from the shadows. She steps forward, putting a booted foot on the neck of the guy Robin just knocked down, a silent movement and she glances down, lifting a finger to her lips, hushing him. He takes one look, feels the pressure on his neck, and he stays put. She turns her attention to the Boy Wonder, watching him in silence. Her costume has taken a little of a battering, a hole here and there hinting at gunfire, and she is grateful for the mask tonight.

With the fight basically broken up, Spoiler receives a flash of a smile in thank from the Boy Wonder as he bends down to zip tie each of the fighters in turn. Police will arrive and probably charge them with something like drunken disorderliness with aim to incite a fight. But when both of the men are bound, and Robin finally has a real moment to study The Spoiler, concern etches his face. He pads towards her, eyebrows drawing together, and he reaches out to snake an arm around her waist. But he pauses, a silent question hangs in the air, asking if he can do so. If she lets him, he'll draw her close and use the grappling gun to help them both bail before the police show up. With GCPD it's always hard to know if the officers will be vigilante-friendly or not.

She takes her foot off the neck of the man, with a slight shove. She returns the smile with a grin, and she lets him snake that arm around her waist, actually welcoming it, leaning into him and holding on. When he gets them up there, she doesn't let go, just staying there against him for a moment, her eyes closed. Then she does go to pull away, the stiffness of her movements more obvious this close to, her glance at him cautious. "Busy night? We ought to get on." A careful distance in those words, her turning away showing the bullet holes in her cape, and a scrap across the fabric of her costume.

Robin makes no movements away from her, relishing in a moment of closeness when she leans into him. But when she does finally pull away, he wary of her movement. His lips part, his own muscles become stiff, and he generally struggles to find his thoughts again. "I… Spoiler, you're hurt." He follows her, his steps easier and more fluid than her own. "What happened?" his eyes dance behind his mask to assess each of her movements in turn, a measure of scrutiny colouring his expression. He speeds up to get in front of her and gently reaches out for her face. While he won't dare unmask her, not after their pizza times, there's a seriousness he wants to convey. "Let me help you. Please."

Spoiler's back straightens, her gaze returning to him, and the rapid blink behind that mask hints at a risk of tears. "It's nothing, I just took a tumble, misjudged a corner on the bike." She lets him touch her face, through the mask, tilting her head into the touch. She closes her eyes, her hands lifting to touch his chest, leaning into him. "My fault." A lie, and a bad one, and for the first time ever, she puts her head against his shoulder, giving in.

This is one of those rare opportunities where Robin and Tim really collide. Robin has been taught distance. Don't get too close. Don't get too attached. He is the Boy Wonder. Tim, however, is downright empathetic. The lean inspires him to draw her into his arms protectively. While he knows she won't let him see the extent of what's happened to her, he can be a beacon of support for the moment. He presses his lips lightly to the crown of her head and stays there for a moment while his own eyes lid. "It's not your fault. I know you didn't do this to yourself," he whispers in turn. "Tell me what happened. Please."

Her hands rest on his chest, curling into fists, her face hidden against his costume for a long moment, and the slight shiver hints at her very carefully hidden tears. Then she lifts her head, looking at him, the blue eyes full of angry tears, "I came off my bike. I wrote it off, because the Cl… someone was shooting at me. I walked in on a meeting, out of my depth." The closest she might ever come to admitting he is right, that this is dangerous, and she needs help. "Bikes dead."

His arms remain around her, stable and sure as she cries. And, for once, Robin realizes how much she's already disarmed him. Even without meaning to. A dull ache reflects in his heart with her obvious turmoil and sorrow. His arms tighten around her and, instead of the lecture she may actually be expecting he whispers, "I'm so glad you're alive." Whether or not she wants to be held, evidently that's what's happening right now. "We'll fix the bike," he murmurs before pressing another kiss to her head. "Did you get shot?" he asks quietly.

She is putting a lot of trust in him in this moment, trusting he won't mock her aspirations, won't lecture her. She hesitates, before she replies, slowly, "I can't, I don't have the money, Robin." She stays held, leaning against him, and she hesitates at the last question, a slow, slight nod hidden from view, felt against his shoulder rather. "Not badly, just a graze. At least, it feels like that, I haven't looked. I haven't stopped." Her hand lifts from his chest, rubbing at her mask, rubbing the tears into it with irritation.

"Don't worry about the money," Robin murmurs quietly as he finally starts to ease his grip around her. "We'll get it fixed," he reiterates. How he's going to manage that, he has no idea. But he's proven handy before. And the bat cave has lots of tools. Assuming he can get it there. These are all thoughts that go through his mind before he refocuses and frowns at the notion of a graze. "Spoiler, I need to see it. These things, they can be worse than you think." He frowns. "I… where were you shot?"

With that ease of a grip comes a slight movement, her hand dropping from his chest, a blink up at him, and her reply is quick, a soft whisper, "I don't think…" And then a slide down his body and a thud, as Spoiler just hits the floor, or the roof in this case, the visible skin - her hands, her neck - pale, and the black of her side darkened by blood. A hint of blonde hair peeks out from under the mask.

Eyes widening Robin drops to the ground next to her onto his knees. His gloved hand is lifted to his lips and his teeth meet the fingers to draw each off in turn, ditching them in lieu of more nimble digits. He leans forward, checking for signs of breath (Yeah, Tim has taken first aid), and finding that she's breathing, he directs his attention to other important things. Carefully he reaches out to examine her side and he curses quietly while he tries to figure out how on earth Spoiler's costume even works. "Spoiler! Spoiler, you need to stay awake, I need — " he curses again, his hands fumbling with the utility belt as he grasps what first aid tools Bruce had thought Robin would need. "I'm sorry," he mutters in apology as he attempts to find the bullet hole in her costume. With the knife he'd confiscated from that kid, he'll make the hole bigger in an effort to look at the wound itself. Graze or not, she's bleeding. "Come on, come on, come on," wake up.

She is breathing, and the costume slits under the knife, revealing pale skin, and a bullet score across her ribs and waist, still bleeding, sticky and obviously ignored. The fumbling gets him a response, a soft mumble, spoken with a giggle, "You should have said you wanted to take my clothes off…" The drunk tone is a good warning, the length of time she has ignored it. She peers at him, the blue eyes half closed, "What? What do you need? Ouch!" The sound after is a grumble, and she swats at him, frowning.

"Spoiler," Robin's tone hinges with warning as he's swatted at. "I'm helping you, I know you don't know that right now, it's not going to feel nice, but I'm helping you." He presses his forearm down against her midsection (secretly wishing that he has someone else to help because he doesn't really like being swatted at). "I want to take you to the hospital," he confesses quietly. "I'm worried you've lost too much blood — " his lips purse and he uses one hand to open the sterile dressing he'd had in his belt. He presses it tightly against the wound, aiming to stop the bleeding. As far as what he needs? That's left unspoken. Robin's needs, for once seem to align with Tim's, and this is at least a little upsetting.

The protest is unsubtle in this moment, when his forearm leans on her midsection, the grumble coming with a push against his shoulder, "Stop it! I'm alright…" The mumble is soft, and she lifts a hand, curling her head against her arm, her eyes at half mast, "It's only a scrap, it stopped bleeding. I'm comfy here, it's nice. You, me, stars…romantic." She reaches down, a tug inviting him upwards, her smile almost a giggle. "Robin…" An appeal, an invitation.

"Spoiler…" Robin counters to his name. "I… can't you see I'm worried about you?" the question isn't rhetorical, in fact, it's incredibly honest. "I'm worried that — " and then she's doing that thing. The smile. The invitation. He swallows hard. "I want to do something for you… I want." He sighs. His own powerlessness in the situation weighs heavily on him and his shoulders slump downwards as a result. "Please." But his appeal turns to acquiescence as he slides down beside her for a moment. "Let me take you to the hospital. Please. I…" he emits a soft sigh.

She lifts her hand, touching his cheek, her blue eyes smiling up at him. "Anything you want, Wonder Boy." The words are softly slurred, and she curls up against him, snuggling, her lips curled into a smile, a soft smile. "Robin, anything you want." Her hand curls against his cheek, and she lifts her face to kiss him, "Its a scrap, Robin, just… my bike… He ruins everything."

"I need you to be okay." Robin can feel the frown tugging at his lips, that moment of conflict swirling behind the mask. "I'm falling for you. I'm… smitten for you. I spend every moment I'm not with you thinking about the time I spent with you." His cheeks flush a brighter red. "To take you, I… the mask… the costume." He frowns again. "I need your permission to do this for you. Please." His head turns in her hand and his lips press lightly against her fingers. "Please." There's another pause and he shakes his head, "Please don't worry about the bike right now. I'll take care of the bike. The bike is replaceable."

"Me too." The smile is dopy, the snark missing, and she adds softly, "OK, whatever you want. We'll do that." She reaches for him with one hand, giving him a look, her blue eyes laughing for a moment, before the eyelids droop again. "Ok." The words are mumbled, her cheek falling against his shoulder once more, quietly passing out on him.

"Dammit," Robin mutters. He reaches forward, tugging off her hood first. The hood is rolled up and set aside. Next he reaches for her gloves, giving them a good tug. "And now you're just a girl in a one piece suit." Pause. "With a mask." His eyes squint behind his own mask and he shakes his head before giving the mask a tug. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of her, and he can't help but stare. She's not what he was expecting behind the mask. But then, imagination hardly does reality justice. Robin. Focus up. He silently chastises himself, reminding him of his place here and what he has to do for her. Carefully, he reaches down and hoists her over his shoulder. "Hospital here we come. I'll get your stuff later, Spoiler."

Blonde hair, pale face, cute, with long lashes that touch her cheeks. Her hair is blonde, with waves that do tumble around her face. She is his age, and pretty. And unconscious as an unconscious thing, you bad bad man. The mumble of protest at being hoisted doesn't get him an opening of her eyes, but her hair flops over her face.


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