Chapter Eight: Into Your Own Hands
Dick regains consciousness slowly. The first thing he's aware of is a throbbing, almost sluggish and dull, pain in his shoulder.
Bullet wound, he remembers. He was shot. He can remember that much.
It seems like it should hurt a lot more.
He's on his knees, that's the second thing he's aware of, and his foot has fallen asleep.
Ordinarily, that would be considered of secondary importance to a gunshot wound, but the pins and needles feeling has become like a horde of ants marching across his flesh.
He shifts, intending to stretch his feet out before him, and cries out as pain rips through his shoulder.
Wider awake now, the pain having given him a shock, he realizes both wrists have been bound behind to a post with what feels like a length of train.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
You really stuck your foot in it this time, Grayson.
He cracks his eyes open, slowly, one at a time. It's dark, wherever he is.
It's dark, but it's not dark enough so he can't see.
There's a grayish, pale light filtering in through several windows. Cheap, white plastic has been nailed over the empty panes, blocking out most of the sun, but it still manages to find it's way inside.
Piles of boxes are stacked around him, layered in what must be at least five years' worth of dust.
A dilapidated, moth-eaten curtain, with enough color left that he can tell it had once been a brilliant red, reaches from floor to ceiling and is stretched halfway across the length of the room.
Theater.
If he cranes his neck, he can look past the curtains and see the stage, the rows of seats.
He's in an old theater, although which one it is, he has no idea.
There are at least five old and abandoned theaters scattered across Gotham.
And those are only the ones he's been to, for reasons regarding one case or another.
Dick moans, a sound that's low and pain-filled, and wonders how long he's been out and when Bruce is going to get there, or if he even knows yet.
Barbara told him.
There's no way she wouldn't.
More importantly, though, Dick wonders where the Joker is. Why he hasn't shown himself yet.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he's able to make out a glimpse of what looks like a white bandage. Angling his head, he can see that it is, indeed, a bandage, sloppily applied and stained with blood, but obviously someone didn't want him bleeding out.
It doesn't take a genius to know who that someone is.
And it wasn't out of any generous feelings that he's being allowed to live.
Dick hangs his head, sagging against the chains, which, currently, are the only things keeping him from sliding all the way to the floor.
"Now, now, Bird Boy, none of that! I wouldn't want you getting too comfortable here. After all, I'm afraid the guest of honor hasn't showed up yet."
The Joker appears, hands clasped behind his back, as casual as if he were just taking a stroll down the street, before stopping directly before him.
Dick glares up at him. "What," his voice is hoarse, "are you talking about?"
Joker squats down before him, gripping his jaw and forcing him to make eye contact. "I made the Bat a promise," he says. "One that I intend to keep."
He releases him and stands, laughing as if he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world.
"Wait, boss!" Joker frowns and directs his attention towards several men in clown makeup hanging back in the shadows. Dick hadn't noticed them before.
The one speaking wears a blue wig and his features are indiscernible beneath the layers of makeup caked on his face. He hesitates and then steps forward boldly. "Just what are you playing at here? I thought the whole idea was we wouldn't be bringing the Bat down on our head."
Dick has to give him credit. It takes guts, standing up to the Joker.
The grin returns to the Joker's face and he strolls over to the man. The man falters slightly, but holds his ground, raising his chin a tiny bit.
"Oh, Maurice," Joker croons, reaching out and brushing his fingers down the side of the man's face. Maurice shudders, but doesn't move.
Dick frowns.
"I'm disappointed in you. This is Gotham city. And everything you do will bring the Batman down on our head."
There's a pfft sound, and, suddenly, the man collapses, eyes wide open, a shocked expression frozen on his face.
It's happened so fast, Dick didn't even get a chance to see the Joker move.
A patch of red appears on the dead man's chest, slowly blooming outward.
The Joker turns back towards Dick, tucking a gun back into his suit, and smiles again.
"Shall we get ready for the party?"
A prickle of guilt nags quietly at the back of Jason's conscience as he drives.
Barbara is likely worried out of her mind, but he knows she'll keep her cool… at least until he gets back, because then she'll say things like, "What the hell were you thinking?" and, "you could've been killed!"
But her anger won't last long, because she's never stayed angry for very long.
Not with him.
Bruce, on the other hand, will likely hit the roof.
Maybe he'll even fire him,take Robin away from him.
He almost falters at that, Robin is his life now, but keeps going.
The cave has an opening that allows their vehicles to come and go a safe distance away from the city to keep from prying eyes, but it's only a five minute drive at his current pace, and the Gotham lights are already bathing the streets.
Two minutes if he dares pushing the bike faster.
Maybe he should.
Nightwing probably doesn't have time to spare.
Why is he risking so much for Dick Grayson? he wonders. The original, the one he hears all good things about, the one he could only dream of living up to.
Because no matter how hard he tries, Jason will never be Dick Grayson.
It isn't like he owes him anything.
By all rights, he should hate him.
And besides, if the guy's as good as everyone says… maybe he'll have himself free long before Jason could ever dream of finding him.
He shouldn't even be in this mess.
So maybe he doesn't know what he's doing out here, but he sure as hell isn't turning back.
And he knows Dick means something to Barbara.
Even before Dick returned.
He's doing this for Barbara, he tells himself. Because he doesn't want to see her hurt again. And if Dick dies, she'll hurt.
And Bruce will too, although he won't show it.
He doesn't ever show it, but it's there.
And Alfred… it will hurt Alfred too.
Maybe more than it will hurt anyone else.
But he chooses to ignore that, because somehow, facing the fact that his predecessor, even after leaving, after abandoning them, still meant more to everyone than he ever would hurt.
Hurt almost like it had when his mom died, when his mother had chosen drugs over her own son, because it seemed no matter who it was in his life, he was always second best to someone or something.
Shut it! Jason snarls to himself. He has no use for self-pity and neither does anyone else.
He wonders if maybe it wasn't such a good idea to leave, but he's a member of their team too. He's Robin. And Robin helps Batman. He doesn't sit on the sidelines.
The corner of West and Pinewallis.
Calling Barbara is out of the question too. She'd never tell him anything useful and if he did try to use his Comm to get in touch, she'd just end up chewing his ass out.
That's the problem with Barbara. She's a big sister in every way, and that includes chewing out his ass when she feels it needs a good chewing out.
What he does know, however, is that Nightwing was down at the factories.
He can start there.
Jason makes his decision and veers left, taking the ramp leading downtown.
Jason is gone.
He's left the cave.
And as angry- as furious- as he is, Bruce feels the tiny worm of fear slithering through the tiny cracks in the defensive armor that being the Batman provides.
The Joker has made him a promise, the fulfillment of which began when he invaded the apartment of Barbara Gordon and put a bullet through her spine.
It's one that he won't let end with Dick Grayson or Jason Todd.
He almost regrets sending Dick to the factory… perhaps he should have been the one to go in his place.
The Batman is supposed to be one step of his enemies.
Why didn't he see? Why didn't he realize that the Joker had worked it this way deliberately? In a bid to keep Dick safe, Bruce had sent Dick to where he assumed the lesser danger lay and, in doing so, delivered him right to the Joker.
He's angry-furious-yes, but he also recognizes that those feelings will do nothing for Dick nor Jason.
He needs to remain calm, detached from the situation, look at the evidence and see where it leads him.
He can't let himself dwell on the fact that this is family at stake.
West and Pinewallis.
He has a location.
He just prays he gets there in time.
Thoughts? Opinions?
I'd love to hear anything!
