#writeblr drabble

The bodies of Black Mask's mooks lay scattered among the desks and overturned chairs, all groaning in a soft chorus of their regret and Robin's vengeful satisfaction.  But his attention wasn't on the defeated goons – it was on the girl in the chair.  He'd recognize those bubblegum space buns anywhere, even if the face below them was caked in blood and bruises.

He stepped over the body at his feet and behind the chair.  The adrenaline of the fight was wearing off – his hands shook as he untied her wrists, fingers slipping on the slick silk tie.

The moment she was free, Kia slumped forward to rest her elbows on her knees.  She rubbed her wrist with the opposing hand.  As soon as Robin stepped in front of her, she lifted her hand to sign ‘thank you’ and shot him a tight-lipped smile twisted with pain and grief.

Wait – signed?

Sure enough, something crunched under his feet.  Something vividly crimson and definitely missing from her ears – a set of hearing aids at least a decade old, now useless.  He winced sympathetically, but there was nothing for it now.  She was alive.  That mattered most.

After Robin called it in to the GCPD, they stayed together in silence for a time, Kia in her chair, he on one knee before her.   Normally, he enjoyed quiet time with Kia.  It was a peaceful respite from the chaos of Gotham, but this… he hated this.  There was so much he ached to say to this girl who was so much more than his best friend.  So much he couldn't say for her own safety.

But how safe was she, really?  Black Mask had already written her off.  As long as she kept working for men like him, she was in constant danger – including from Batman.  From the very same cops on their way to help her now.

Maybe he could say a little bit.  A single sentence.  What better time than this?  She couldn't hear him, so his words wouldn't put her in any danger, and if he messed it up, he would bathe in awkwardness alone.  It couldn't be that bad, right?

Robin cleared his throat.  “I, uh, was never good at this sort of thing.”  His fists clenched and unclenched before him.  Kia's amber eyes rose to his, almost as if she could hear him – but she couldn't.  … right?  No, he was just being paranoid.  He swallowed against a desert-dry throat to gather his nerves and met her gaze.

But the words didn't come.  He couldn't think of a single way to tell her the truth.  Robin stared into her expectant eyes.  He listened to his heart galloping against his ribcage and his blood pounding in his ears.  Without thinking, he reached out to brush a sweaty curl out of her face.  His palm tingled electric at even that simple touch.  She smiled at him again, this time soft and hopeful, and he realized like a sinking stone that he could never tell her.  She meant too much to risk losing.

Robin left as soon as the cops showed up.  He grappled through the open window to the nearby rooftop.  She's in good hands, he reasoned as he watched the paramedics help her onto a gurney – so why was he watching them like a hawk?  Why was his heart still racing?

Kia waved at him as they loaded her into the ambulance.  He smiled and lifted his hand in a brief wave of his own. 

The hand on his shoulder didn't surprise him at all, nor did the quiet, gruff voice behind him.  “Looks like we need to have a talk, Robin.”