Saving Grace

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

Robin was dead. He was sure of it. Even though he never felt his body hit the ground. Oh, there’s a scary thought. He would have died the same way his parents did. That would be horribly ironic. Although, now that he thought about it, he couldn't be dead. He could here the sound of traffic and people talking. No one shrieking. He felt a cool autumn breeze on his face. Something wasn't right, and why did his hand hurt like hell?

Slowly, he opened his eyes and blinked a few times. At the moment, everything felt hazy to him. He had to take slow deep breaths to clear his head. Finally, he could see, his vision was double, but he could see. From what he could tell, he was outside. And high up. The lights of the city danced behind him; The lights he had grown to love from the many patrols he had been on, the numerous amounts of times he would wake up in the middle of the night and sit up on the roof, the lights were always there. Constant. And it gave him peace. The world felt normal.

Tonight however, he did not have that feeling. As his vision focused, he remembered he didn't have on his uniform, this was a serious moment. A dire moment. Something had kept him from splattering on the cement, and he needed to know what...and why the heck did his hand hurt so bad!?

Looking up, he realized the liquid running down his arm wasn't sweat. When Slade had let go, his arm had shot out and grabbed the window ledge...which had broken glass protruding from it. In fact, a piece of glass that was still attached to the window was now sticking out from the other side of his hand.

Oh great...

Now the only thing keeping him from falling to his death was a shard of glass. He was lucky that the drop hadn't pulled out his shoulder. He tightened his grip on the ledge and pulled up. He got about a third of the way up, but had to drop back down because he was not strong enough. He looked down and became dizzy. The height he was used to, what made his head spin was the blood running down his legs and dripping off of his toes. At this point, he was sure the Slade had reopened all of his wounds. He lifted himself enough to get his other hand up for a grip. With this done, he just had to will himself enough strength to get up.

You can still make it, you can still be the hero everyone looks up to. You can be with your friends, you can be with Starfire, you can defeat Slade. You just have to get up. He used the bricks for gripping under his feet, but the blood made it slippery. He screwed his eyes shut and grit his teeth. With a final tug, he lifted himself with a groan and climbed inside the window.

He tripped on his entrance and rolled off the window seat landing on the floor. He coughed a few times, and then laid there, silently. He knew he was bleeding. He could feel the cotton of his hospital gown becoming more saturated by the minute. The glass was still in his hand, but he didn't have the strength to pull it out. He didn't have the strength to do anything. He just let the coolness of the linoleum send him off to sleep. He was safe...for the moment.

Starfire arrived at the hospital like she did every morning. Her bubbly personality put smiles on the patients she walked past. Although, she didn't merely walk pass anyone, she greeted them with a 'good morning!' or 'how are you?' Everyone there had come to know her and was eager to see her cheerful disposition. She stopped at the third floor information desk to check in.

"I am here to see Richard Grayson."

The receptionists looked at each other and then back at her. "I'm sorry miss, but he's not allowed to have visitors."

Her smile disappeared. "What do you mean? I saw him yesterday."

"But he's not allowed to have visitors today."

"Why?"

"We don't know, no one's saying anything."

"What do you mean? Did something happen? Is he alright?"