Nightwing sagged in Batman and Red Hood's grip, but still tried valiantly to get his feet under himself and help with the process.
"That's it, son," encouraged the Dark Knight. "Just a little further. Batmobile's curbside. We just gotta get you down the stairs to the street and then you can rest." When Nightwing didn't respond, Bruce looked down at his oldest son. To his dismay, he saw multiple stab wounds, a gun shot wound, and what looked like a broken arm. It was also obvious that Dick was severely concussed. "You still with us, Nightwing? Nightwing!"
"Mmm," Dick groaned, pain lancing through him with each downward step. "Mmm, yep."
Jason Todd was uncommonly worried. This might have been the first time ever that he was in Dick's company and not begging him to shut the fuck up. He subconciously grasped his injured brother more tightly, but when he did, he jarred Dick's broken arm. Dick cried out a terrible shout of pain.
"Shit!" said Jason, clutching on to Dick's shoulder instead as the broken arm fell limply again to Dick's side. "My bad," he said sounding slightly apologetic.
"S'okay," mumbled Dick. "Just a knock."
"It's not okay," interjected Bruce. "It's broken, badly. Try to hold it still as best as you can, son."
"Oke doke," he slurred again. "Bats, m'fine, don't... worry 'bout me." he insisted. "I can... walk."
"Negative," said Bruce solemnly as Jason barked out a mirthless laugh.
"Big Bird, you can't even stand," said Jason rolling his eyes.
"Stand schmand," slurred Nightwing. "Where... where we... going?"
"Home," said the Bat. "We're all going home."
"K," answered Dick sluggishly, his head sagging a little lower to the ground. Then all of the sudden he stiffened all the way and his eyes flew open. "Red…" he said quietly at first. Then his voice grew in volume as he began to struggle against Bruce's and Jason's hold. "Oh God! Where's Red? Hood did you… is he?"
"He's fine," soothed Bruce, as the two men recaptured the agitated hero. "He's in the car, you'll see him momentarily."
"And he's… OK?" Dick asked. "They… the Black Hand… they tortured him."
"He's fine Big Bird," insisted Jason. "Cuts and bruises. Not much more. He's waiting for you in the car. Now, for fuck's sake, relax."
Nightwing exhaled a sigh of relief and relaxed between the two men once again. The surge of adrenaline that had accompanied his concern for Tim was dissipating and left him feeling even more exhausted and injured than he had before.
It seemed like it had been hours since Tim had parked the Batmobile and waited for Bruce and his brothers to exit the old building. In reality it had been only a few minutes before the stairwell door banged open, thanks to a violent kick from Jason's boot, and the three men appeared. Two of them were holding the injured one between them. Tim gasped when he saw what Gavrilo and his men had done to Dick.
Tim activated the vehicle's hydraulic doors and paged the Batcave.
"Red Robin to Cave," he said as the doors hissed open to allow the three men to get into the car. "Nightwing's alive… but he's down. Batman and Hood are bringing him to the car now.
Tim slid over into the passenger seat as Jason and Bruce got Dick situated in the back seat. They laid him down gently and Bruce strapped a harness over him. Jason did a hood slide across the Batmobile and entered through the other side of the back seat. He sat down, placed Dick's head in his lap, pulled his red hood off, and wrenched open one of the many first aid kits that were stored in the vehicle. He began to tend to some of Dick's freely flowing wounds and placed his arm tenderly in a black sling. Dick, cried out in agony when Jason manipulated his arm into the sling, but made little to no response to Jason's other ministrations.
Meanwhile, Bruce had slid himself behind the wheel, sealed all doors and sped full throttle toward the Bat Cave. "Alfred," he said paging the butler. "We're on our way."
"Excellent news, sir" said the butler. "Shall I page Dr. Thompkins?"
"Yes," came a chorus of three urgent voices while a slurred "Nahhhhhhh," could be heard from the man laying in the back seat.
"I shall call her at once," said the butler. "We will be ready for him," he promised before signing off.
Bruce glanced in the rear view mirror at his two eldest sons. "Awfully quiet back there," he remarked. "Dick, you still with us, son?"
"Yyyyyep," slurred Dick. "Baby Bird?" he asked, making sure that Tim was indeed in the car and alright.
"Right here, Dick," assured Tim. "I'm alright, thanks to you."
"His pupils are huge," said Jason peeling off Nightwing's domino mask. "I never thought I'd ever be saying this, but we gotta keep him talking."
Dick tried a snort of laughter but groaned out in pain instead.
Tim turned around in his seat. "How was is in there, Dick?"
"Good," slurred Dick. "Made… lots… new friends."
Jason scoffed in annoyance but found himself reaching down to stroke some of Dick's soaking wet hair from his forehead. Dick's deep blue eyes were blinking slowly, trying their hardest to ward off sleep.
He met Jason's eyes and locked onto them. "Thanks Jaybird," he managed to whisper.
"I'm not a bird," said Jason out of habit, continuing to smooth Dick's hair out of his face. He then mopped up some more blood that had began to appear from the lacerations there.
"Are too," said Dick sleepily still trying to stay awake.
"No he's not," came an oddly stern voice from the front passenger's seat.
Jason flinched at the comment and the tone. Damn. Just as he thought he was starting to fit in again...
But Tim had more to explain.
"Jay, you've grown. You're tall and strongly built like Bruce," began the youngest. "You hit just as hard as he does and you… you even move like he does. Jay, you're not a bird in the sense that Dick is and that I try to be. You're a bat."
Despite himself, Jason felt a swell of pride. It even swelled a little bit more when he saw the Batman's pointed ears nod in silent agreement. The corner of his mouth twitched into a half smile. He didn't know what to say. So he said "I need a drink." Then he looked down again at Dick.
Dick was somehow still fighting against sleep and staring up at Jason through his long black eyelashes.
"Quit staring, Dickhead" he teased frowning down at Dick's dreamy and pain-filled expression. "I know my hair looks dumb."
A moment of awkward silence passed in the Batmobile as Jason made a reference to the white streak in his hair which, to the discomfort of everyone else, he liked to claim he had received 'from his tenure as a ghost.' He smirked at the awkwardness, pleased that despite all the good he done of late, he was still capable of ruining a nice moment.
"I like it," declared Dick on the brink of sleep. "Now people… can… tell us apart."
"Ha!" Jason said humorlessly. "No one gets you and me confused Dickiebird. People get you confused with Tim. People tend to get me confused with something they've seen in their darkest nightmares."
"Nope," declared Dick his eyes finally closing. "You're… chip off the old Bat block. Just like... the rest... of us." He let out a deep sigh and his tense muscles went limp in Jason's grasp.
Alarmed, Jason lightly shook Dick and tried to elicit a response. "Hey," he said gently. "Hey, Dick are you with us? Dick?" Nothing he did got a response.
"Bats, he's out cold," Jason reported to the Caped Crusader. "How far are we?"
"Ten minutes out," said the Bat, mentally willing the Batmobile faster.
Nine minutes later, the Batmobile came to a screeching halt in the Batcave. Awash in the glare of the headlights, Alfred and Leslie made their way urgently over to the vehicle to help remove and tend to the ailing hero in the back seat.