8. "Look at me, okay? Breathe."

The sound of a shot rang in the alley like a bolt from the blue. From the corner of his eye, Nightwing saw Robin go down like a rock dropped from a height. It wasn't like the movies when someone got shot in real life. In real life the victim didn't get blown backward, didn't stagger dramatically and clutch themselves before folding to the floor. If you were hit somewhere, somewhere bad, you just stopped what you were doing and fell down, and that was what Robin had just done.

"No!"

Nightwing had already been in mid-swing at the other thug, number two of two. He followed through, letting his weight come behind it maybe a little too hard. The thug's head snapped to the side with a sickening crunch. He could have broken his neck, and Nightwing's heart lurched yet again. But the guy fell down, moaning but still. Not dead.

Only one left, the one with the gun. Nightwing turned on him, fists clenched and mouth in a snarl. There hadn't been guns when he and Robin first swung down to stop this mugging in process. The two thugs had had pipes, dangerous but not deadly. But this one had been concealing a Saturday night special and must have pulled it out too fast for Robin to dodge.

Nightwing was ready, though. He knew how to deal with guns. He didn't give the guy time to react, already juking and jiving as he dove in toward him. The thug tried to get another shot off, but it plugged into the wall. Nightwing slapped the gun from his hand, then put him down with a flat-handed chop to the neck. The thug went down, gurgling.

Nightwing was already swinging away, back to Robin. He activated his comm as he moved so Oracle would hear, so Batman would come running. The boy was crumpled on the dirty alley ground, his cape puddled around him like a curtain of ink. Nightwing fell to his knees, reaching out for his shoulders. "Robin. Robin! Can you talk? Talk to me!"

Oracle's voice in his ear, "Nightwing, what? What's going on?"

Nightwing rolled the boy onto his back, and Robin did not resist at all. He was limp and boneless, breathing in whistling gasps. His head rocked on the dirty ground, and Nightwing couldn't even tell if he was looking at him or somewhere off in the distance with the white-out eyes. He didn't spend much time trying to figure it out, already feeling down Robin's limbs and trunk, looking for the bullet hole. "O, Robin is down. Back-up required ASAP. Yesterday."

Robin squirmed and yelped when Nightwing's hand hit a patch on his left side, and Nightwing lifted his hand to the yellow streetlight and saw glistening red. His hand went back, instantly, pressing down hard. A half-strangled scream burst from Robin's throat, and he convulsed against the pressure.

"Robin, look at me. Can you look at me? Look at my face."

Nightwing got his palm against the wound, pushing as hard as he could. He couldn't tell how bad it was, couldn't tell if it had hit anything vital. Those cheap guns were usually low caliber, not very powerful, but Tim had been shot at close range. No matter how weak the gun was, it was never good to be shot.

Robin's head arced off the ground, teeth gritted, the tendons on the side of his neck standing out. He was trying to obey, trying to look at Nightwing's face. He was already sweating badly, and his breath was choked, tearing at his throat.

"Look at me, okay? Breathe. You're gonna be okay. You got shot, but it's gonna be fine."

"Copy that," Oracle said. "Help is incoming."

Robin panted, staring at Nightwing's face the way a sunflower stared at the sun. He didn't try to talk. His breathing was labored but steady, his chest heaving.

Nightwing managed a smile, somehow. It hurt, pulling at muscles he didn't usually use. Fake smiles were different than real smiles, he remembered reading that somewhere. Nightwing hadn't had much reason to fake smile lately. Not since this miraculous kid had come into his life, into Batman's life. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to not have Tim here.

He didn't want to have to learn what it would be like again.

"You're gonna be fine," he said again, because if he said it enough times it was going to be true. "Just keep looking at me. Just keep breathing."

Robin breathed. He breathed. And he didn't stop.