fall and fail
{per aspera}
"This isn't working," Artemis said, after half an hour of staring at a piece of skin got them nowhere. Barbara said nothing, but continued to stare into the eyepiece, focusing and refocusing the objective.
There were flecks of something in the very grooves of the skin, but every time she tried to get a better view of dark flake, the magnification decided to frenzy, and the light wouldn't catch the speck through the layer of skin. It was infuriating, and time consuming, and Artemis had no patience for it. Sitting in a lab did nothing, she'd complained. They should be out in Gotham searching.
Barbara did not even touch upon how useless that would be.
"I just can't identify this," Barbara sighed. "I mean, it doesn't look human? It's not part of the skin, so I think it's particles from the surrounding area— I can't tell what it is though."
"Biology," Artemis grunted ruefully, scowling at a model of a skeleton that sat on the corner of the teacher's desk. Barbara sat alone at a black rectangular table, a notebook open beside her with notes on the pieces of skin she'd put under the scope. So far, she was still completely at lost as to where Dick was. But she could draw his skin cells now, if she ever had need to. That didn't make her feel better. "Oh! Hello!"
Barbara looked up from the scope in time to see Artemis slap her forehead, her eyes rolling as she reached into her pocket. She sounded as if she'd had a sudden revelation. Barbara watched as she fiddle with her phone, her gray eyes flicking over the screen. "What is it?" she asked.
"My boyfriend," Artemis sighed, bringing the phone to her ear. "I totally forgot, because he acts like such an idiot. He's a genius when it comes to biology, though."
"And…?" She didn't see how that helped them right now.
"And, I'm going to see if he can scurry his ass over here and help us— Wally!" Artemis smiled a little, and then she frowned. "Slow down, I can't— ugh, swallow, Baywatch, swallow."
Barbara raised an eyebrow. She had no idea Artemis had a boyfriend, but if he by some miracle managed to figure out what she was looking at, she would love them both forever. "He sounds charming," Barbara giggled. Artemis glared at her.
"Okay, stop eating for two minutes," Artemis said, leaning back against the desk. She blinked at the model skeleton beside her, and scowled at it again. "Now listen, I need you to come into Gotham. Like, pronto. How fast do you think you can get here?"
Artemis paused, and Barbara watched as she smirked, shaking her head in disbelief. "I should have seen that one coming," she chuckled. "I'm at Gotham Academy right now… yeah, I know, we broke in. Shut up. Wally— this is an emergency! I need your help with something, okay? Obviously something I'm not capable of doing by my— no. I am not going to even comment on that."
Barbara enjoyed listening to the one side of this conversation. She could already tell a lot about this Wally boy, just from the fluctuations of Artemis's patience. One moment she was speaking very calmly to him, and the next she looked like she wanted to hurl the phone at the wall. They seemed like a lovely couple.
"A friend of mine is missing," Artemis explained. "I need your help to find him." Wally talked for a little while on the other line, and all the while Artemis scowled at the wall, rolling her eyes every so often. "Um, Dick Grayson? Have you not watched the news in the past five hours? I thought it went national already."
Artemis went silent again, and she sat up straighter, her eyes flashing worriedly. "Wally…?" She glanced at Barbara, then pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it. "He hung up on me."
"Is he coming?" Barbara asked, peering into the eyepiece again. Her results remained unchanged. She had no idea what she was looking at. She'd never learned this.
"Oh, definitely." Artemis hopped on the desk and shrugged. "I don't know what happened. I'll bother him about it when he gets here, though."
"Where is he from, exactly?" Barbara frowned.
"Eh," Artemis sighed, waving her hand. "Outside Gotham. Shouldn't take him too long. He's pretty fast when he wants to be."
"I hope you're right," Barbara murmured. "It's getting dark." She wanted to light the Bat Signal above anything else.
"He'll get here," Artemis promised.
He did. After nearly thirty minutes of waiting, they heard rustling in the hall, and Artemis leapt to her feet. She swung the door open, and Barbara looked up to see a disgruntled looking redhead standing in the doorway, his green eyes wide, and his hair windswept into a thousand different directions. Barbara could hear his breath rattle, though it did not seem so much out of exhaustion than of panic, and the boy winced a little, shifting on his feet.
"Wally, what—" Artemis looked down, and she jumped back, her mouth dropping open. "Where are your shoes?"
Barbara jumped to her feet, moving around the table to get a better look at Wally. He was probably around Artemis's age, seventeen, with a faintly freckled face, and a skinny frame. He had an athletic build, but a lean body, and Barbara could tell was a runner. She just got that distinct vibe. Then she looked at his feet. Her eyes widened in horror, and she objected as the boy stepped forward, leaving a bloody footprint behind.
His feet were a mix of black and red, dirt and blood blending together against his skin. She had no idea how it had happened, but staring at them made her feel sick. She'd seen enough mutilation today, thanks, she could live without seeing any more mangled body parts. She winced at the sight of skin hanging around the soles of his feet as he hissed and collapsed onto a stool.
"Ooh," Wally muttered, "ow. Uncle Barry's gonna kill me."
"Your uncle has to wait in line," Artemis spat, bending on one knee to catch a better look at his feet. "Oh my god, what did you do? There isn't any skin left!"
"I think you're over exaggerating," Wally laughed, gripping the table as he tried to steady himself.
"I think I'm going to knock some teeth out of your mouth if you don't tell me what the hell happened to you."
Wally kicked his blood feet weakly, and he looked down. "I ran," he admitted sheepishly. Artemis's eyes grew in shock, and he quickly went on. "Not the whole way! That'd take hours, Arty, I'm not that fast… but I kind of got carried away, and forgot to wear the right shoes… they ripped right off way back, at least thirty blocks… Don't look at me like that."
Both Artemis and Barbara were staring at the boy incredulously as he rocked back and forth, careful not to put too much pressure on his bleeding feet. Barbara spun around, moving quickly behind the teacher's desk and pulling open the drawers. Artemis was still staring at him when she found the first aid kit hidden beneath a packet of lab safety pamphlets.
"Why the hell didn't you pay attention to your shoes?" Artemis snapped, snatching the first aid kit from Barbara's hands. "Are you insane? I know I said it's an emergency, but I didn't think you were going to go and friggin' destroy your feet trying to get here!"
"How did that even happen?" Barbara asked, her eyes widening as Artemis unrolled a thick, cottony bandage, wrapping the white fabric thrice around her knuckles. She looked at the soles of his feet, red and glistening from the lack of skin, shreds of flesh hanging limply around the limb. "Thirty blocks in thirty minutes? How did you make it here, with your feet like this? Didn't it… hurt?"
"I didn't notice until I had to climb the gate," Wally said, smiling nervously. Artemis was glaring at both of them, her eyes shifting anxiously. "Look, I'm fine. This used to happen all the time when I was younger. Anyway, lemme see what I can do. What was it you wanted me to do, again?"
Barbara wanted to ask about how he could have ran so far, so fast, without passing out. She wanted to know how it was possibly that he could have bloodied his feet so badly, even with the fact that he was barefooted. A few scratches, maybe, but the entirety of the bottom of his feet skinned? She didn't see how that could be possible. But she said nothing, keeping her unease to herself. Strange things happened in Gotham all the time. Why should she care about this anomaly of Wally's skinned feet?
"I have a slide of… well, I think it's Dick's skin," Barbara said as Artemis sprayed his bloody feet with disinfectant. He yelped, but his eyes were on Barbara, and they were wide with fear. He looked suddenly very familiar, striking a cord within her memory. She stared at him, racking her mind for the place where she had seen his face before— never directly, she was sure, but she had the hazy recognition of this boy's bold green eyes. She was certain they had been bigger, and happier, and also frozen in youth.
"Skin...?" He sounded as if he wanted to say more, but he simply looked away, shrugging. "Okay, I'll look at it. So, we're in agreement that we're not telling my uncle about this, right? 'Cause he might bench me for a few days, and then I wouldn't get to see you, babe…" He smiled up at Artemis goofily, but she simply glowered, and tightened the bandage, causing him to hiss through his teeth.
"Maybe if you weren't so stupid, you'd have remembered to change your shoes, and this wouldn't have happened."
"I panicked!" Wally cried defensively, pushing himself to his feet. Artemis attempted to keep him down, but he was already limping toward the microscope, wincing a little as he went. Barbara could only watch him, squinting at his face as she berated herself to remember where she'd seen him before. "So, what happened with this skin stuff?"
"The guys who kidnapped Grayson sent this back," Artemis said, gesturing to the rest of the strip of skin, which Barbara had placed in a petri dish. Wally glanced at it, and he quickly looked away, hobbling up to the microscope and plopping down onto the stool. "Wally, why did you…?"
"What am I looking for?" Wally asked, looking up at Barbara. She blinked at him, and moved quickly toward him, swiveling the eyepiece toward her to get a proper look at slide. She saw that a speck was still enlarged, and she turned the eyepiece back toward him.
"If you can identify this, that'd be great," she said, taking a step back. "I'm really sorry you had to, um… run here. I just can't figure out what this is."
Wally peered into the eyepiece, his one visible eye flicking as he examined the slide. Artemis sat down beside him, dropping the first aid kit on the table, and watching Wally suspiciously. Barbara was suspicious as well, but she didn't want to show it. She was too busy trying to figure out where she'd seen Wally before. She realized she had not introduced herself to him, and found herself standing awkwardly as a silence went onward. She turned toward the window, watching as the smoggy Gotham sky turned darker and darker, the distant pink glow of the sunset drowning beneath the depths of the black night.
"This is wood," Wally said suddenly, pushing himself away from the microscope. Barbara turned to stare at him, and she bit her lip. Wood… suddenly, she recalled sitting cross-legged on Dick's bed, half listening to him babble about some math thing that she only sort of understood at the time. They had been young then, and she remembered leaning over his bulky, ebony wooden nightstand, and grasping a tiny picture frame by its corners.
"Who's this?" she'd asked, pointing to the gangly boy beside Dick in the photograph. Dick had merely glanced at the photo, and laughed.
"Oh, he's a friend of mine…" Dick had shrugged, smiling fondly at the memory.
"Wally West," she said suddenly, staring at him blankly. He looked at her, and he laughed a little, opening his mouth to reply. She didn't let him. "Dick has a picture of you in his room."
Artemis looked at Wally sharply, her gaze distinctly questioning as Barbara watched Wally's eyes widen in surprise. He seemed to shrug it off though, and he smiled. "We're friends," he said slowly, glancing at Artemis. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she stared at him for a long time, before her mouth dropped open. "Anyways, this is sawdust. Like, a lost of sawdust. So I'm thinking this was dropped into some… I dunno. Oh! Maybe it was pulled off in a sawmill?" He turned to Artemis. "Is there a sawmill anywhere near here?"
Barbara pulled out her phone to check, when she heard Artemis growl under her breath. "No way," she said, her voice low. She looked to Barbara, then to her phone, and her eyes snapped wide. "Shit! That… that little troll!"
"Uh oh," Wally muttered, scooting away from Artemis as she looked down at him, rising to her feet. "Okay, okay, look, I can explain."
"You knew!" she hissed, reaching out, her fingers flexing for a moment, as if she wanted to grab him and shake him. Barbara stared, before continuing with her search. "Wait… shit, she doesn't know, does she?"
Wally glanced at Barbara, and she convinced herself to not look up, despite her bubbling curiosity. "Nope, so, uh… let's talk about this later, 'kay, babe?"
"Don't 'babe' me." Artemis scowled a little more, but said nothing else on the matter. Barbara bit her lip, her mind getting away from her as she began to assume at what they were talking about.
"There nearest sawmill is about fifty minutes away," Barbara said slowly, her eyes flashing to the windows. It was nearly nightfall, but the Bat Signal had not been lit yet. She expected that her father was busy with the investigation to bother going up to the roof and waiting for Batman to appear. She gritted her teeth at the thought. "Do you think he's there?"
"It's possible," Wally said, rising to his feet. "I can—"
"No," Artemis stated. "You're not going anywhere."
"I'll go," Barbara said, already in the midst of gathering her things. She glanced at Artemis, but she was holding Wally down by his shoulders, her face dark with concern and exasperation. "I need to light up the signal anyway. Do you want me to give you guys a ride?"
"No, you go," Artemis said quickly, her eyes not leaving Wally's. "We'll be fine." Wally looked like he wanted to object, but he took one look at Artemis's face and nodded. His pale face was illuminated by the light of the microscope, the only light on in the room.
"Are you sure?" Barbara was conflicted about leaving her friend alone in the school with an injured boy. But she thought of Dick, and the skin, and how little time she had left… she felt horrible for choosing, but she couldn't help it. It was getting so late, and who was to say that the time limit hadn't already passed? She was scared, and she could not help her own recklessness.
Artemis shook her head and waved her off. "Just go! We've wasted enough time here." Barbara stared at her, backing toward the door slowly. She looked at Wally, and she blurted her apologies, her guilt eating at her as she navigated around the bloody footprints. She had no idea what she was going to do about them, but she couldn't worry about it now.
She ran, shoving the petri dish into her purse, and taking a deep breath as she left her guilt behind. Artemis was smart, and Barbara trusted her. So why did she feel so bad about leaving them behind? Was it her selfish need to be certain of Dick's safety? What about Jason? The skin could easily be his, but she was so convinced it was Dick who was hurt…
After making it back to the squad car, she nearly crashed twice on her way back to the station. That had left her jittery, and unsure of herself as she climbed to the roof, rubbing her arms as the cool summer wind kissed her bare shoulders. She was still wearing her bloodstained tank top, and her waves of red hair licked at her cheeks as she waited. The Bat Signal was alight beside her, big and bright and round, shooting into the sky and resting against the dark clouds. The world around her went on, thriving on crime and despair, and she breathed the thick summer air, staring into the night around her.
She could have easily went to the sawmill near Blüdhaven without contacting Batman. But she didn't trust herself to be correct about Dick's whereabouts, and she needed to contact Gotham's Dark Knight. She had to know if he'd been working the case to find Dick Grayson and Jason Todd, and her faith in heroes depended on it. So she stood on the roof, wondering if her father was aware of her presence or not. It was likely, after all everyone could see the signal. She let the feeling of being atop the station overtake her. It was a lightness that started in her chest and built itself up, shooting to her brain and jolting her into weightlessness. The wind blew at her, threatening to tip her toward the streets below, but she would not let herself get so close. Barbara Gordon waited for seven minutes, high on wind, until a swoop of black startled her out of the revere.
"Barbara," Batman said, his voice a mask of gravel and ice. She spun to face him, her eyes looking him over once. They lingered on his billowing cape, and then at his side. She felt a twinge of disappointment that lasted only a moment.
"Where's Robin?" she asked before she could stop herself. She saw his eyes narrow behind the whites of his cowl, and she bit her tongue to keep herself from flinching.
"With Nightwing." Batman stepped toward her, and she took a deep breath, holding her ground. She wouldn't let him intimidate her, because she knew he was someone beneath that scowl, and cowl, and cold stare. A good person, who had saved her more than once. She couldn't allow one good person to instill any sort of fear in her.
"Nightwing…" she murmured. "He's… new, isn't he?" She internally slapped herself, and remembered why she was here. "Never mind! I wanted to… um…" Barbara reached into her purse and withdrew the petri dish containing the skin, and she held it out to him. He simply stared. "This is the skin of one of Bruce Wayne's wards. The kidnappers sent it to the station a few hours ago."
"You stole it."
She felt herself stiffen at his tone, as he sounded almost accusing beneath the coldness and the grumbles. Did he forget vigilantism was illegal? "There were two other pieces of skin," Barbara told him, looking at her feet as she spoke. "And I wanted to help find Dick. I think I know where he is."
"You think?"
Barbara looked up at him, and she stared straight into his masked eyes and scowled. "I'm not the world's greatest detective," she said. "But that doesn't mean I have to sit back and wait for you to do my father's job. There's sawdust imbedded in the skin, so I looked up the closest sawmill from here— abandoned, in Blüdhaven. I can't be sure if that's where Dick and Jason are, but it's the only lead I'm aware of."
She took a deep breath, her face flushed in embarrassment as she pulled the petri dish back to her, holding it to her chest. She was speaking to Batman this way. She wondered if she would have spoken the same if Robin had been there— probably. Maybe even more boldly. The few times she had met Robin, she'd known him to be a joker, and he had always made the situation feel lighter. She looked away from him, her body tensing as she realized how foolish she sounded.
"I'm aware of their location," Batman said, his voice still low and threatening. Barbara looked up at him. She wasn't surprised. "You were correct in your assumption."
A rush of pride sped through her, allowing her to look up at him with wide eyes, her gaping mouth turning into a smile. He hadn't given her a compliment, or even changed his tone, but his words gave her a great amount of confidence, and sent warmth coursing through her. She'd been right. She made a mental note to thank Artemis and Wally West profusely later.
Batman moved, and suddenly Barbara felt her confidence overpower her, and she scrambled forward. "Wait!" she gasped. "Can I…?"
Her confidence shattered, and she clamped her mouth shut. She stared at him, shocked to find that he had actually paused, and then she watched him abscond into the night. He would find them, she knew. She felt mortified for sounding so stupid. And yet…
She found herself in the squad car again, rifling through the glove compartment. She smiled when she pulled the spare bulletproof vest into her lap, her fingers gliding over the dark Kevlar. Well, it wasn't technically stealing.
He shifted gradually between the waking world and chaos. He didn't know which he preferred— dreams of screams and laughter and the pulse of night, or the aching quiet that stretched across the stifling sawmill, suffocating him faster than the dry air, and scathing more than his open wounds. He tried to stay awake when he was with Jason, and when he was pulled under, he fought to stay that way. His heart was with his lurid circus, and his mind was with the rancorous boy. He talked very little while conscious, but that was only because his tongue had seemed to swell in his mouth, and his throat was too dry to even attempt to form real words.
His shirt had gone from a pale, grainy gray, to a deep crimson within hours. It was slick against his fingers, but he held it to his stomach still, knowing that if he left the wounds alone in this arid, musty room, they would fester easily. As much as it hurt now, he knew he'd heal fast. If the wounds got infected, he might be bedridden for weeks. He wouldn't be able to deal with that.
If Jason's father had made an appearance, Dick had been asleep through the entire ordeal. He had a feeling Jason had let his tongue loose again, because the last time he'd looked at him, his nose had been swollen and purplish, blood drying against his lips in crimson trails from his nostrils. He had said nothing, and it seemed like he hadn't even noticed Dick had been awake. He simply stared ahead of him, his gaze distant.
It was dark now, though, and Dick could no longer see Jason. He struggled to push himself closer to the soft sound of his breath, and distantly he heard the boy's voice. "Stop squirming, you'll just hurt yourself more."
It wasn't like Dick had been stabbed. He'd been through much worse than a little skin getting peeled off. In theory, this should be nothing to him. But it wasn't. It hurt worse than he could have imagined, a constant sting that turned into a searing ache, and before Dick knew it, he was rendered almost completely immobile. He wanted to hate himself for being so weak, but he couldn't manage it with all his worry. Worry for himself, worry for Jason, worry about Bruce, worry about Barbara. He wondered if he was supposed to have a mission tonight, and he hoped no one on the team noticed his absence. Ever since Jason had taken the identity of Robin, Dick had more time to be with the team. Their gradual acceptance of his new identity was comforting, but it also made him fear…
"Dick, wake up," Jason hissed into the darkness.
Dick shifted, his fingers tightening against the wet fabric of his shirt. He turned his head Jason's way, his body rejecting the movement, and he found himself reaching out into the dark, hoping to find his hand amongst the dim rays of light emanating from the window. A thousand crickets sang into the night, chit-chitting their lively tunes.
"Awake," Dick croaked, hoping to sound a little more cheerful. It couldn't be helped. "Where are you?"
He could almost hear Jason's eyes rolling as he gave a short laugh. "Right next to you, Dickie-boy," Jason said, his voice a strain against the silence. Even the crickets seemed to stop to hear him. "I hear something."
"Oh." Dick listened, but all he heard was ringing in his head, the steady drum of his own heartbeat, and Jason's quiet breathing. "What—?"
He felt Jason's body jerk beside his own as a door slammed open somewhere in the room. Dick tried and failed to sit upright, grasping Jason's arm tightly as he gasped, and collapsed onto his back again. He heard a strangled shout, and frantic shouting followed. Gunshots rang through the air, piercing the silence, and Dick could feel Jason's body go rigid beneath his fingers. The sound of his breathing had ceased, and Dick realized he was holding it in.
There was a plea in the man's husky voice as he spoke, a shadow sweeping into the room. "If you want those little fuckers, just take them!" Dick nearly laughed, and he clung to Jason tighter, beaming up at him. He could not see the boy's face, but by the way his body had relaxed, he knew. Dick wondered if he was smiling too.
There was a quiet rustling as Jason jumped to his feet, tearing Dick's hand from his arm. Dick hissed a command for him to sit back down, but Jason did not listen. Dick clutched his stomach, squeezing his eyes shut as he pulled himself upward, clenching his teeth when he felt the raw skin around his stomach snap, and stretch, and tear open once more. He heard Jason faintly through the haze.
"Did you really think—" Jason's voice was several levels of fury, shaking with power as a meaty smack stirred the dust around them. "—that you… you! Deadbeat!" Another smack, this one resonating louder through Dick's feverish daze. "That you could possibly get away with this? Do you know Gotham at all, you piss poor—" The next smack was wet, and so loud that it nearly made him flinch. He found himself trying to drag his body forward, but he was too lightheaded, and when he tried to stand he fell. It occurred to him that the assassin might have done more than simply torture him. "—excuse for a human being!"
Dick felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, and he looked up, searching the darkness and the vertigo. He gave a shudder, and a soft sigh when he felt the cool fabric of Batman's cape pool around him. He reached up, grasping a fistful of the dark cloth as he was lifted into his surrogate father's arms, his shirt sliding to the ground, and slapping, sodden with blood, against the floor.
"I'm sorry," he found himself murmuring into Batman's shoulder. He felt very small, as if he were nine again, and he'd only just made his first mistake as Robin. His body melted into Batman's arms, and he could here his own rattling breath as he squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in the scent of Kevlar and sweat. A brief flicker of a thought passed his mind, that perhaps he was too old to react to Batman's rescue this way. But whatever drug that rested in his system prevented him from caring, and he was so thankful for it. There was no better feeling than the relief of Batman's care.
Jason's shouts grew louder, and the dimness around him broke when he squinted into the darkness, and saw the boy's silhouette as he bent over the whimpering form of whom Dick could only surmise was his father. Dick opened his mouth to speak, to rebuke him, but he found he had no voice. He only stared, watching the black form of his little brother as it bent forward, fists flying, and every smack was met with a scream of fury, and a murmured apology.
The thing that surprised Dick the most was that Batman only watched. And suddenly he was reminded of Tony Zucco, who made his blood boil just at the taste of his name on his tongue, and the way Batman had stood back and watched while Robin had throttled him bloody. After a time, the Dark Knight had pulled his bird back, and clutched his shoulders, staring into his masked eyes. No words were spoken, but they shared the same thought, a revelation. No amount of retribution would erase the smear of death that taints you until you fall. Blood for blood did nothing but swallow you up in a sea of red and terror, and that was not the way of the Bat. So, maybe it would never stop hurting, but at the very least it would get better. And Dick Grayson had let him go.
Batman was an entity. His morals, his actions, his very words— they were nothing if not a gleam of hope for people like Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, and Jason Todd. When the blood spilt, there was no way to wash it away, and when a person was gone, they were gone. Jason needed to learn that for himself. Dick still struggled with the thought of it, and he would admit to still harboring some degree of homicidal urges toward Tony Zucco. But he had been brought to a place where he could see how painfully dark everything would become if he gave into that thirsting, angry little boy.
Jason had slipped from his lecture to a wordless string of screams, each one accompanied by heavy whacks. It was only when the a crunch was heard among the din that Batman stepped up behind him, staring Jason down until he could feel the glower, and he turned, his face half hidden by shadows. Blood was streaked across his cheeks and lips, and he looked half mad with rage and pain, tears brimming in his cold eyes.
"Jason," Dick said gently. Jason's eyes never left Batman, but at the sound of Dick's voice his body seemed to slump. "It's okay now. Let's go home."
His fist was still raised, shaky and red and clenched. He look crazed, but that might have just been the blood, wet and crusting, smeared across his youthful face. Hesitantly, Jason dropped his arm to his side, his mouth parting, as if he had something more to say. But he said nothing. He merely stood up, looking straight at Batman, and he turned away and walked through the open door.
After a few moments, Batman followed him. He still held Dick tightly to his chest, not quite willing to loosen his grip on the boy. Dick had no need to care, though, and the longer Batman held him, the stronger he felt. When his face met open air, he gasped in as much of it as possible, the taste of summer beating away the hot, acrid air inside the sawmill. He felt a chill as a slight breeze slid through the trees around them, licking at his wounds. The night was quiet, all except for the rhythmic sighs of crickets, and the gentle rustle of leaves.
Dick was well on his way to falling asleep again, hoping for sweeter dreams than those that have passed, when Batman's guttural voice spooked him into lucidity.
"Barbara," he said. There was no emotion in his tone to suggest that he was shocked, or disappointed, or welcoming. He simply said her name, and with that Dick's eyes snapped open, and his head lolled to the side.
He saw her hair first, as it glowed against the moonlight, a muted red in the darkness. He noticed that she was wearing a dark police vest, and that was a little startling. Then he realized that it was smart of her to do so as a necessary precaution. Her face was illuminated, and her smile was slipping as she seemed to catch sight of Dick's bloody body. Her blue eyes went so round, he thought they would pop out of her head, and she pushed off from the GCPD car she'd been leaning on. Jason was watching her sullenly from the shadows.
"Dick, are you…?" She reached out to him, but faltered, and when she did, Batman defensively pulled Dick away from her. Dick smiled at her, feeling as though it might look sort of loopy. He felt out of whack, if he were to be honest.
"Fine," he said, giving a one armed shrug. "Kinda… tired. What're you doing here?"
"I wanted to make sure you were okay," Barbara said, her eyes never leaving his. He was grateful for that. "Don't act like you wouldn't do the same for me."
He laughed a little, guiltily, and with that he found himself loosening his grip on Batman. "Batman handled it," Dick said. "But thanks, Babs."
At that, Barbara looked up at Batman, her face becoming suddenly stoic. It was rather odd to see, since he was so accustomed to seeing her playful. "I can take him to a hospital in Blüdhaven," she said, her eyes flashing to Jason's. He was frowning at her from the shadows, but creeping closer to the squad car. "The nearest one from here is about twelve minutes."
Dick felt Batman's fingers tighten around him. It was a comfort, and warmth tickled his chest as he stared at Barbara. The thing was, Batman would not be able to avoid this without arousing suspicion— and since Barbara was such a good friend of his, they needed to be careful with how much she knew. Limiting suspicion was best. Bruce knew that.
It still felt strange though, when Barbara held her arms out, and he felt his body being transferred from the safety of Batman's strong hold, to Barbara's skinny arms. Initially he thought she would drop him. After all, he was bigger than her. He felt awkward in her arms, too tall for her to really grip him properly, but she held him without a hint of strain. Dick was impressed, and he smiled at her, his eyes falling on her lips, which were swollen, and the upper one was split. He tried not to let his eyes linger, and winced in pain as she shifted her grip on him. He focused instead on the scent of her hair, a faintly saccharine odor. Distantly, he thought she smelled like vanilla.
"Well, this is cozy," he murmured in her ear. He was very pleased with himself when he felt her skin flare with heat, and she glared down at him with such fervor, he thought she was going to throw him to the ground. She looked back at Batman, taking a step back toward the car. Jason had already opened the back door, and he was watching them with shifting eyes.
"My dad will be here in ten minutes," she said, carefully resting Dick across the back seat of the squad car. He wouldn't allow her to see just how much pain he was in, so he smiled his thanks, and shared one last look with Batman. They would see each other at home, but Dick was nervous leaving him. His body wanted nothing more than to be carried home, not to a hospital. He hated hospitals.
"I will be long gone," Batman informed her. It was true. He'd be changing back to Bruce Wayne, preparing to take his sons home.
"I figured," Barbara replied. "That's why I made sure to call him at least twenty minutes after you left. The police would have made this situation worse by making their presence known."
Very true. He smiled at the ceiling of the squad car, letting the softness of the seats become a true relief. After laying across the rough wooden floor of the sawmill, he appreciated the seats as if they were a featherbed. He took a deep breath, tasting blood and dust and summer, and somehow that gave him the will to stay awake. He felt the drugs that flowed within him slow his thought process, but he would not let himself be any weaker tonight. He'd stay conscious until someone jabbed a needle in his arm and forced him to swim back into the bouncing dreams of fitful nights and happy screams and terrible laughter.
He barely registered that the car was moving until he heard the siren. He wanted to laugh, and tease Barbara for taking a police car, but he was too dazed to have a real coherent thought process. He had lost a lot of blood, and the drug did nothing to numb the pain in his abdomen. He saw stars dance across his vision, and he sighed, trying to keep his mind clear as darkness crept up upon him, gnawing at his cloudy thoughts.
"You know," he heard Jason say, "this really isn't how I expected my first trip in a police car to go."
The sound of Barbara's soft, disbelieving laughter lulled him to sleep.
There is something about Dick falling asleep that is pure chapter ending material.
Sooo. Yeah. Fun chapter. Oh, I can explain what happened with Wally. See, once he heard that it was Dick who'd been kidnapped, he was like AW SHIT, MY BFF IS IN TROUBLE. And thus he neglected to change into shoes that would be able to withstand his speed. He didn't run from Central to Gotham, though, because that would take like two hours. He ran to a zeta tube and hitched a ride to Gotham that way. He still had to run a lot, though.
The image of Wally with bloody feet is really appealing to me. I don't know why. Maybe because I think it's perfectly realistic for this to happen to him? Hmm.
Oh, and Artemis figured it out. I feel like she wouldn't have if Barbara hadn't brought up Dick's hacking skills though.
Review, please? =]
