A/N: Gah! Storms, I hate them. We have no power so throwing this up fast before my laptop dies. Thanks to all you epic people who commented on the last chapter. Your feedback totally made me smile. :)

oOo

Batman was growing impatient as he surveyed the docks. There was no sign of Petrov or the drugs, and he had been here for over an hour. His initial investigation suggested the shipment wasn't supposed to be here until later, but he had been certain that Petrov would have moved the time up to beat the weather. However, with no sign of the crime lord, he was beginning to wonder if he was wrong.

Batman scowled. No. He wasn't wrong. Petrov wasn't the sort of man who would allow a little extreme weather to put a dent in his plans. He wanted that shipment in Gotham tonight, which meant he would do anything to have that shipment in Gotham tonight.

So where was he?

Batman cast his gaze around the docks again, eyes landing on the deserted building that Petrov owned. The man never kept his produce in one place for long, meaning Batman literally had to catch him in the act to prove he was the one infesting Gotham with drugs. It was the reason tonight's operation was so crucial. Petrov was poisoning Gotham from the inside out; the sooner he was off the streets, the sooner the rot stopped.

His eyes were performing another perimeter sweep when he noticed a blue speck approaching through the blizzard. He stiffened. That had better not be… He growled when Superman came into view, heading in his direction. Dammit, Alfred! he swore, knowing exactly who had called the Boy Scout out here.

"You should consider toning down your uniform," he snarked at the Man of Steel when he landed beside him minutes later.

"Merry Christmas to you too," Superman responded cheerfully. "And what's wrong with my uniform?"

"It's too bright. I could see you approaching from half a mile away, even in this weather. It ruins the element of surprise."

"Did it ever occur to you that not all of us use the shadows to take criminals by surprise? I'm Superman; I want the bad guys to see me coming."

Batman made an irritated noise before asking, "Did Alfred call you?"

"He was concerned."

"He shouldn't be. Everything is under control here, so you can just go back to Metropolis."

Superman sighed. "Why are you always in such a bad mood at this time of year?"

Batman gave him a withering glare.

"What? It's true. And I'm here now so I may as well help." He gave Batman a pointed look. "And you should have called me to help in the first place. Robin shouldn't be out in this weather."

"Robin can handle himself."

"That's not the issue. He's eleven, it's Christmas and this snowstorm is the biggest Gotham has seen in years. You should have left him at home."

Batman ignored him. There was too much truth in that statement for him to disagree. "If you're going to stay, then make yourself useful; turn up that superhearing of yours and see if you can hear anything approaching."

Superman complied, shaking his head in resignation. Then he frowned. "I hear traffic several blocks from here."

"In this weather?" Batman's senses kicked in and he reached for his radio. "Robin, report."

There was no response.

"Robin," he repeated. "Come in."

This time he heard several loud clicks echo over the bandwidth. "Comm's jammed. Take me to where you heard those vehicles."

But Superman shook his head, a horrified expression on his face. "No. We have to get to Robin! We have to get to him right now!"

The Dark Knight frowned at him. "Robin? Why–"

"He's calling for you, he's calling for you by your real name!"

Something cold shuddered through Batman. "He's situated on the tallest building eight blocks west of here."

At once, Superman grabbed him and took off. High above the ground, the snow stung at Batman, but he barely felt it. His mind was whirling. Robin knew better than to use his real name while in costume, what had happened to change that?

They landed on the roof of the building he had instructed Robin to watch from, but there was no sign of the boy.

"He's not here," Batman muttered, circling the roof. "Where is he? Superman?"

The Man of Steel shook his head in concern. "I don't know. I don't hear him now. Can't you track him?"

Batman checked Robin's GPS and shook his head. "Whatever's jamming communications is interfering with the signal. Superman, you heard him before – try listening again!"

He watched with a growing sense of dread as his fellow leaguer used his superhearing. Something was terribly wrong. Robin wasn't where he was supposed to be and he had called for him using his real name. Batman could feel panic rise in his gut and smacked it down. Panic would get them nowhere.

It was several long, agonizing minutes before Superman jerked and looked left. "This way," he said hoarsely, grabbing Batman and taking off again. Five blocks later and he was depositing the Dark Knight on the snow outside an old warehouse. Batman watched as he punched through the enormous steel-rolled door before following him inside.

"Over here," said Superman urgently, hurrying towards several stacked crates.

Batman was close on his heels, his breath catching in his throat at the nightmarish scene before him.

Robin was curled in a ball on the floor, blood pooling around him. His face was chalk white and smeared with red, while several small, bloody handprints were visible on the crate beside him and the ground around him. A pungent stench of blood hung in the air, almost making Batman retch. Dear God, how much blood had he lost?

"Batman! Batman!" Superman's voice cut in over his shocked processing.

He snapped out of it and dropped beside the Man of Steel, who was crouched over Robin, trying to assess his injuries. Together, they carefully rolled the boy onto his back and Batman gave a sharp intake of breath; Robin was bleeding profusely from his stomach and shoulder.

He yanked several padded bandages from his belt and shoved some at Superman, who immediately pressed them against Robin's stomach. It did little to staunch the bleeding as red seeped through the dressings.

Batman swallowed and applied the other bandages to Robin's shoulder with one hand, while sweeping back his bangs with the other. "Robin... Robin, can you hear me?"

The boy remained limp and unresponsive. Despite his best efforts, Batman could feel panic creeping in at the edges of his carefully constructed calm. How had this happened? He'd ordered Robin to stay put!

"Batman, he needs the hospital."

Superman's voice was urgent, but Batman shook his head. "No. Leslie's. She's closer and he'll be safer there." He looked at the Man of Steel. "Can you take him? You can get him there quicker than I can in this weather."

"Are you sure–"

"Don't waste time arguing with me!" Batman snapped, removing his cape. He gently eased Robin to a sitting position and wrapped him in the cape. Then he placed the boy carefully in Superman's arms, his heart hurting at how light the little frame felt. He looked at Superman. "Get him there safely, Clark."

It was only after the Man of Steel had disappeared with his precious package that Batman realized he had called him by his real name.

oOo

Batman reached Gotham's free clinic almost twelve minutes later. Tearing up the steps of the clinic, he tried to ignore every worst-case scenario that was flashing through his head.

A lone volunteer was on duty and she jumped as he burst through the door.

"Where's Robin?" he gasped out.

Her mouth open, she pointed towards the back room and he ran in that direction. His heart was thumping so hard he thought he might have a coronary as he jerked open the door.

Inside, Robin – Dick – was limp on a gurney while Leslie worked feverishly to stabilize him. With the exception of his tights, he had been stripped of his uniform and Batman growled when he got a clear view of his torso. There was a lethal-looking stab wound to his stomach and a bullet hole in his upper right arm, and some animal had gouged a large, deep hole into his left shoulder, a wound clearly intended to inflict maximum pain. A dark, penetrating rage enveloped Batman and he clenched his fists. Someone was going to pay dearly for this.

His plans for revenge vanished the moment the shrill whine of a cardiac monitor tore through the air.

Batman felt his own heart stop and moved towards the gurney until a strong arm was flung across his chest, keeping him in place.

"Let her work," Superman's voice sounded in his ear.

Batman didn't respond. He couldn't take his eyes from the scene in front of him: Leslie had the defibrillator out and was shocking Dick's little body, trying to restart his heart. He watched in anguish as the boy arched on the bed with each charge of the paddles.

It felt like forever before beeping sounded again, and Batman released a ragged breath. Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ.

"Bruce," Leslie addressed him urgently, giving Dick a shot of something. "When I get him stabilized, he needs a hospital! I don't have enough supplies of his blood type here, and those wounds are beyond my surgical abilities."

Batman shook his head, fighting to maintain his grip on reality. The scene before him was making him feel like he was dropping off the deep end. "Leslie, no. They'll know who he is – if his real name gets out, nothing I do will keep him safe. He'll be dead in less than a month!"

"He won't be alive for you to protect if you don't get him to a hospital!" she snapped back, bringing her eyes up briefly to meet his.

Batman watched, torn, as Leslie secured the cannula for the blood she had been hooking up when Dick crashed. He would do anything to save the boy's life, but he also knew that every hospital in Gotham would recognize him at once: Dick Grayson was almost as well-known as his guardian. And hospital confidentiality or not, it would get out that Dick was Robin, and then he'd lose the boy – to Gotham CPS and the criminals who would hunt him down.

But Leslie was also right. He would lose Dick now if he didn't get proper medical care. Not seeing a third option, Batman scrubbed wearily at his eyes.

Much to his surprise, it was Superman who spoke up with a solution. "Leslie, Flash is on his way here with Dr. Mid-Nite as we speak, they should be here soon. I contacted them both after we arrived in case you needed help. And I can bring the blood you need from the Hall of Justice med bay in less than five minutes."

"Superman, those aren't the only issues," Leslie countered, putting an oxygen mask on Dick. "This is a ghetto clinic, not an OR! I need certain supplies; anaesthesia, strong pain medication, surgical tools... And what about this storm? If the power goes out then we'll literally be operating blind!"

"That's not exactly a problem for Dr. Mid-Nite. But I can bring a small generator in case of a power outage – it wouldn't take Flash long to set it up. And I can get anything else you need from the Hall of Justice."

Leslie exhaled in what sounded like frustration. "Fine! Grab a pen and paper from that cabinet. I'll give you a list of what I need."

Superman quickly complied, and Leslie gave him a rundown of what she needed, all while continuing to work on the unconscious child.

Batman only heard half of their conversation. His senses were still struggling with what was happening in front of him and his attention was painfully focused on Dick. But somewhere in his head, his brain was mentally re-evaluating what he knew about Superman. While he had been standing here panicking, the Kryptonian had conceived a well thought-out alternative to his dilemma. Maybe there was more to the Man of Steel than raw power?

Leslie finished briefing Superman and he turned to face Batman, promptly rolling his eyes at the other man's expression. "Just because I have super-strength doesn't mean I can't use my brains."

Batman scowled. How had he known what he was thinking? "Then what are you waiting for? This isn't the time for patting yourself on the back!" An image of Alfred's scandalized face flashed through his head and he sighed. "Superman…thank you."

The Man of Steel flashed him a smile as he left the room, although the corners of it were tight. Batman stared after him until Leslie gave a small gasp.

"Bruce. Bruce, I think he's waking up!"

His head snapped around. Oh no. No, no, no! Dick couldn't wake up now. Not to this.

He moved to the other side of the gurney where, sure enough, Dick's eyes were moving back and forth behind the lids. A distressed sound echoed from the back of his throat, followed by a plaintive, low moan. "Bruuuuuce…."

Dammit. Batman slipped back his cowl and placed one hand on Dick's head, running his fingers soothingly through the dark hair. "Hey, Buddy, it's okay. I'm here."

The movement behind the lids became more frantic until eventually, Dick's eyes opened. He stared at Bruce for a second before his face crumpled and he cried out in pain.

The sound made Bruce's heart ache. "Shhhhhhh! It's okay, Dick, you're going to be alright. Leslie is going to fix you right up."

Dick moved shaking hands towards his stomach, but Bruce caught them, gently guiding them back to the bed. "No, Dick, just lie still and let Leslie fix you, okay?"

"Hurts…" Dick whispered, his eyes watery and face pinched with pain. "Make it…stop."

Oh Jesus. "I know, Buddy, I know. Just relax and Leslie will fix it."

Dick rolled his head sideways to look at Leslie and then whimpered through gritted teeth. Bruce could see the boy's fingers jerking convulsively and swallowed. Never had he felt so useless.

"Can't you give him something?" he hissed at Leslie.

"I've already given him something." She shot him a warning look and jerked her head towards the monitors, her expression clearly telling him not to push this.

He glanced at them and his own heart almost stopped beating. Dick's blood pressure was dangerously low. Bruce knew children could maintain blood pressure despite blood loss for longer than adults, but would deteriorate rapidly once it dropped because by then they were already critical. And most sedatives caused hypoventilation which, when mixed with low blood pressure, could result in heart failure and hypoxia. Dick had already crashed once… Bruce doubted he was strong enough to survive a second cardiac arrest.

He swallowed again as he realized the position he had put Leslie in. Without Dr. Mid-Nite's surgical skills and proper medical supplies, she was powerless to help Dick. Until the others arrived, all she could do was try to keep him stable – a terrifying burden to place on another person. Bruce's secrets had forced Leslie to accept responsibility for a child's life when she didn't have the means to save him.

Bruce was horrified by his own selfishness. How many more people had he burdened by forcing them to keep his secret? Alfred, Lucius, Superman...

Dick.

Guilt flooded him. He had been so harsh on the boy for telling his best friend his real name, something he should have known Dick wouldn't do lightly. Even at eleven, Dick had more than proven his trustworthiness to Bruce, so why couldn't Bruce trust him to make the right decision? Why was he forcing a child to live with the burden of so many secrets just because he himself was incapable of trusting anyone?

He became aware of the boy whispering to him through the mask and immediately refocused on him. "What is it, Dick?"

Lower lip trembling slightly, Dick stared up at him with wide, frightened eyes. "I'm sorry I…messed…up."

Bruce's heart broke. "Oh, Dickie, no. You didn't mess up, this wasn't your fault."

"But…Petrov got…away."

"Petrov?" Bruce tried not to let the anger show on his face. "Dick, was he the one who did this to you?"

Dick nodded, then suddenly wailed and arched on the gurney. Bruce could hear the monitors screaming all sorts of warnings.

"Dick! Dick, what is it?"

The boy's teeth clenched and he whimpered, whole body jerking. Without warning, he turned his head to the side and vomited red fluid into the oxygen mask.

Panic hit Bruce hard. "Oh, Jesus Christ! Leslie! LESLIE!"

She was there before Bruce had even finished calling, shoving the man out of the way and pulling the mask off of Dick. Red splattered the floor as the boy retched, and Bruce felt his own stomach churn.

"Dick, stay with me!" Leslie called anxiously, as Dick's eyes rolled back in his head. "Where's the pain, Dick? Talk to me, Sweetheart, tell me where it hurts."

Bruce didn't know what happened after that, because the next thing he knew, Flash and Dr. Mid-Nite were bursting into the room. Dr. Mid-Nite didn't even acknowledge Bruce as he shoved him out of the way and joined Leslie by the gurney where she immediately began to fill him in on Dick's condition.

The surreal sensation of his head expanding rolled over Bruce. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt dizzy. He could barely hear what Leslie was saying to Dr. Mid-Nite over the frantic beeping of the machines and the rushing in his ears, but a few words permeated his consciousness. "hypovolemic…extreme tachycardia…delayed capillary refill…"

Why wasn't any of this making sense to him? Why wasn't any of it going in?

"Bruce!"

The Flash's concerned face was shoved practically into his own, and Bruce got the impression that he had tried several times to get his attention. He blinked, transplanting his focus to Flash. "What?"

He hadn't meant to bark at Flash.

But the man in question didn't seem to mind. "You okay? You look a little pale."

"I'm fine."

"O-kay." Flash put a hand to the back of his neck and shuffled, obviously not knowing what to say.

Bruce didn't really care. Small talk was the least of his worries at the moment. His attention went back to the gurney just as Leslie produced a coil of Ryle's tubing and viscous lidocaine, while Dr. Mid-Nite elevated the gurney to a forty-five degree angle. Bruce felt his knees go weak. Nasogastric tubing.

"Why are you doing that?" he demanded, striding forward. "Is that really–"

"Bruce!" Leslie hissed, physically stopping him in his tracks. "Not now. He obviously ate before patrol and there's haemorrhaging somewhere in his stomach. We have to empty his stomach contents before we operate so please don't make this any harder!"

Her face was twisted in distress and Bruce realized that this was tearing her up: Leslie doted on Dick.

He nodded and took a step back just as Superman returned, carrying a large box of medical supplies. To Bruce's surprise, Wonder Woman was right behind him carrying another box.

"How is he?" she asked anxiously, as she and Superman placed the boxes carefully on the counter.

It was Dr. Mid-Nite who responded as he looked up in irritation. "Robin is in good hands, so I need anyone who is not a trained medical professional to leave this room now."

Bruce opened his mouth to argue, but Dr. Mid-Nite silenced him with a glare worthy of one of his own. "That includes you too, Batman. No arguments if you have the boy's best interests at heart."

For once, this was an argument Bruce couldn't win. He pulled his cowl back up and fixed Dr. Mid-Nite with a hard stare. "Just pull him through this."

The man nodded and returned his attention to Dick. Batman gave one last glance at the half-conscious boy on the gurney and stormed out the door.