He'd been here before; of that, he felt dimly aware.
As if slapped back into consciousness, his head snapped up from the darkness, all senses scrabbling to establish his surroundings. His first thought was of his dry throat being choked with cloying, acrid smoke; then the volume was turned up on a mulch of confused shouting and groaning metal. The floor beneath him was shaking at a high frequency, and he became aware of a growing pressure on his eardrums - a sure sign that wherever he was, it was shooting skywards at an alarming rate.
His sight was the last sense to register. Amid the heavy haze, he could barely make out any discernible shapes until an alarm started to blare and the entire wall facing him began to open, just a crack. The thin strip of sunlight was almost blinding, but the smoggy haze was sucked out of the opening, and now he could see figures fighting, grappling- was that…?
"Nightwing!"
A face looked up and briefly reflected his surprise. It was Nightwing, indeed, but to his shock, Batman noticed his mask was missing. A bruise discoloured his right temple and a gash seared his cheekbone. He was also barehanded and barefooted, his gauntlets and boots replaced by recent ligature marks. Batman took quick stock, but remained unsettled by the unmasked countenance of his former partner.
The figure that Nightwing had pinned down renewed its struggle with a shriek.
"...finished! Can't you see, Nightwing? You pressed the button to shoot us back up. We are going to burn in the atmosphere!"
Bucking and rolling - for a second, it looked like Nightwing would lose his grasp. All questions batted to the background, Batman tried to leap up from the shadows and help fight the mutual foe, but he couldn't move; why did he feel so lethargic - as if every muscle were encased in clay? He looked at his hands. He was missing his gloves too… and his utility belt.
Nightwing was atop his enemy again. Exhausted but resolute, he snarled,
"Call. The. Others. Off."
Defiance. "Why? I'm dead anyway."
Determined, steel-blue eyes drilled deeply into his opponent's. "Because I know what you came here for. And I almost get it, really, I do. You just don't get to do it at the expense of our entire civilisation. Now, you heard my orders to my teammates; you know what will happen if you don't do what I say. So I'm telling you again. Call. Them. Off."
Despair and defeat rolled off the attacker in waves. His acquiescence came in a whisper, barely heard above the screeching sirens: "Fine."
Two pairs of eyes followed warily, diligently, as the adversary stumbled towards the control panel and balefully punched out a universal transmission code.
"All units… retreat. Authority code 34625, retreat fully. This is the official order. Over."
Static. Then -
"Order received. All units retreating, over."
Batman pursed his lips in approval. Whoever 'they' were, they were no fools. They could see what was happening to its leading craft. Its current condition - and trajectory - could only mean it had been compromised.
White noise took over the receiver. All units out of range - all must have pulled back and returned to origin. Batman let out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding.
A mirroring sigh of relief sounded from Nightwing, and Batman saw him leaning against the panel, eyes closed, with one hand pushing back his black, sweat-slicked hair. He looked more tired than Batman had ever seen him. He was just about to call out to him, when -
Suddenly, everything seemed to happen at once. An explosion sent a shockwave rippling through the thin floor, and metallic groans filled the air - whatever craft they were aboard, it was breaking up. The defeated adversary took the momentary distraction to punch a different code - and the slit in the wall began to open fully. The world tilted, and everything began an inexorable slide towards the gaping exit.
There was no time to think, and nothing else in his sights. Batman's inexplicable lethargy was shaken off and he dove towards the exit towards his falling partner. He barely registered that their enemy had nabbed a parachute pack, and had taken a running jump off the ramp. Sliding on his stomach, Batman curled one hand around the side of the control panel - the only thing attached to the floor - and his other latched firmly onto Nightwing's arm.
A pained gasp escaped Nightwing's lips - the jolt might have been enough to dislocate his shoulder - but the grasp was returned around Batman's forearm. Nightwing looked up at him, disbelievingly.
"Batman… how are you even here?"
Before he could respond, that familiar look of authority and clarity set back into Nightwing's face.
"The hidden blue button on the right of the control panel face," he shouted above the din. "Press and hold it; it'll pause this thing dead in its tracks. Won't stop gravity, but it'll buy enough time to look for another parachute, or maybe find the grapnels in your belt. I don't know exactly where we are, and I doubt this went straight up, but here's hoping there might be skyscrapers to swing from... Duck!" In tandem, two heads bobbed as a chair flew past, a hair's-width from clipping an ear, and tumbled out of the chasm towards earth.
Keeping a crushingly tight hold on Nightwing, Batman twisted and tried to hoist himself up to the panel with his other arm, but his elbow was locked straight with the strain of being stretched taut.
"I can't pull us both up," he ground out with exertion.
"I know!"
…
Eternity stretched out over the course of a second. Eyes wide with shock, Batman looked down at Nightwing again, and his sinking stomach could no longer be solely attributed to the sensation of rapid ascent. Because all this time, he had been dissociating... he was still in costume - mostly - so it was always Nightwing, his former Robin, his trusted ally, his martial partner. But his partner had lost his mask. And he was looking into the trusting… loving… gentle blue eyes of Dick, his best friend… brother-in-arms… erstwhile ward… son.
"No."
"Bruce," - Dick's voice was softer now, throwing him back to a time when Dick had just come to the Manor… cajoling Alfred after one of his boyish scrapes….? No… comforting him after a nightmare, when shouldn't it have been the other way round? Nightmare… what was niggling at the back of his confused jumble of thoughts? "…Bruce. Let go."
He felt Dick's fingers loosening, so that his clasp was merely one of comfort, or reassurance. It only made him grip harder.
"I. Said. No."
"Please, Bruce. Batman never dies, remember? Batman and Robin never die." His eyes were shining and the words came out almost as a sob, yet his old playful smirk ghosted Dick's lips. Batman growled in response.
"And Nightwing. You can't kill Batman and Nightwing. I thought I corrected Two-Face on that, years ago."* But inside, Bruce was shouting. It's not even about that anymore - what am I even saying? That has nothing to do with it! What I want to say is that I am NOT letting go of you, Dick…
Off to one side, a steel sheet wrenched off with a metallic moan. When their eyes met again, Dick's was panicked; time was running out, and dammit, that button would do jack-all if there was nothing left for it to stop...
Then the whole craft pitched to one side and lurched - Bruce's grip was shunted to Dick's wrist... then his fingers... and then...
...nothing at all.
"DICK!" Bruce screamed in horror as his son tumbled out of his line of sight.
But before he could react, his other hand was wrought free and he was following him, his body skidding and spilling over the ramp, plummeting toward the earth below...
*Batman #442, A Lonely Place of Dying