By this point, Tim was flat out worried; Nightwing hadn't been seen in Blüdhaven in a good week, hadn't shown up for work, hadn't made contact with anybody in the "family" or Barbara in longer. He knew sometimes Dick had to go undercover, or maintain silence, it was part of the job, but he would have warned someone first. Wouldn't he?
Finally, on Friday, Tim took one of the Batcycles and drove to Blüdhaven. He parked the bike on the street in front of Dick's apartment and rang the buzzer. After five minutes of ringing and still no answer, Tim took the key Babs had given him and unlocked the door. He grew more and more agitated on the elevator ride up, imagining all the horrible things that could have happened. He couldn't get up there fast enough.
Just to make sure, Tim knocked several times before actually going in. The apartment was a wreck; completely dark save for the T.V which wast turned to static, there were bottles of alcohol littering the floor, couch, and all available flat surfaces, the kitchen was covered in takeout containers and spoiled milk was spilled on the counter. This was worse than he had feared. He knew Dick wasn't the best housekeeper, but this took "bad housekeeping" to a whole new level. Tim tried and failed to think of a logical reason that Dick would leave the apartment in this state, but nothing came to mind.
Tim tried his best to be soundless while sneaking into the back rooms, using all the calming techniques that Bruce had taught him over the years, finding each room in worse condition than the last. The bathroom had broken glass littering the floor, and the toothpaste had been squeezed into the sink the way a toddler might. Finally, Tim approached the bedroom. Listening carefully, Tim thought he could hear a faint, pitiful moaning
The hell? Tim thought, trying to think of any reason there would be someone else in the apartment. Upon entering the room, it was impossible to tell what was going on, as the darkness was almost absolute, with the blackout curtains Dick used to sleep during the day. He tried to follow the sound, but it seemed to fade in and out. Finally, he found the source of the sound: Dick was curled into a ball in the darkest corner of the room. He was wearing nothing but grey sweats, and Tim could see his chest was sloppily bound with tape, the exposed gaps covered in purple and yellow bruises.
Tim was shocked, what could have happened that made Dick, one of the strongest people he knew, retreat like this. "Dick, um.. are... are... you okay?"
He reached out to touch his brother, but Dick flinched, turning his head up, squinting hard at Tim. Bruises mottled his face, and it looked like he haven't shaved in at least four days. "T...tt...Timmy? What are you doing here?"
"Dick, you've been gone for a week! What's going on? What happened?" Panic was lacing Tim's voice.
"There were... they were.. falling... and it was so far... and I couldn't reach... I wasn't strong enough... falling" Dick buried his face between his knees.
Tim wasn't sure what was going on, all he knew was that he needed some help, and fast. Tim pressed his comm-link to his ear.
"Babs, I'm at Dick's apartment, and something's really wrong, he's all bruised, and his apartment's a wreck, and he's just talking complete nonsense, it sounds like something about his parents... Babs... I don't know what to do."
" Hey, Tim it's okay, just tell me what he said, and I'll try and figure it out. In the meantime, just get him cleaned up and I'll get back to you"
"Kay. And, thanks Babs."
"Tim, just concentrate on getting Dick okay, and I'll do the rest. He'll be okay... he has to..."