A/N: Once again, thanks to all you awesome peeps for your wonderful feedback. :) It's probably my biggest thrill right now since my life pretty much consists of college, work, eating and sleeping (in that order). Also, to the guest who left the extremely long comment a few days ago; thank you. That was awesome. And to answer your question, I'm not really a birdflash fan since I prefer Dick and Wally as friends, but I have nothing against it (unless they're having sex when Dick is only 13 because that's just way wrong). Anyway, thanks to everyone. You rock.
Oh, and also, some swearing in this chapter. Just a heads up!
oOo
After another day of lounging listlessly around his foster home, Dick was ready to crack. He wasn't used to being confined like this; both to one place and to being still. He would have asked Dana if they could go out for a while, just to ease the cabin fever, if the memory of his recent encounter with the media weren't so fresh in his mind. Much as he hated to admit it, Dick was too scared to risk another run in with those vultures.
So he stayed in the house feeling bored, restless and homesick. It didn't help that Dana had been unable to reach his social worker to talk to her about Bruce. Dick had watched Dana leave several messages asking Ms. Elliot to contact her, but so far the CPS agent hadn't responded. And even though Dana had insisted that it was probably because Ms. Elliot was dealing with an emergency, Dick couldn't help but feel that his social worker was doing it on purpose.
Dick was starting to really hate the woman because what was her deal with Bruce? His guardian was the best and he didn't deserve this crap! And neither did Dick.
He sighed and kicked restlessly against the foot of the bed, all while glowering at the ceiling. His mood had shifted again today, and he was now more angry than sad at how powerless he was to control what was happening to him. Dick resented the hell out of Ms. Elliot, Gotham Social Services and the entire justice system for the way they were screwing up his life.
"Stupid morons," he muttered savagely, thumping his fist hard against the mattress. Why was it so hard to believe that Bruce wasn't hurting him? Were CPS really so stupid that they believed a kid would want to go back to where someone was hurting him? And these were the people charged with children's welfare in this city? No wonder there were so many homeless kids in Gotham – CPS were idiots!
Dick's internal tirade was interrupted by the front door opening and the sound of the other teenagers returning from school. Terry and Nate were talking at the tops of their voices and both sounded angry about something. Dick's heart sank a little. He'd hoped to apologize to Nate this evening, but if Nate was mad, that would make him more difficult to approach. Maybe he should wait until he'd calmed down?
Except Dick was really hoping an apology might help Nate to see that he wasn't the spoiled brat Nate thought he was, and the longer Dick left it the harder it might be to change Nate's attitude. Dick was stuck here for the next two weeks; he would like to at least get on with the other kids. Besides, his own actions were one of the few things left that he still had control over – if Dick wanted to apologize to someone then he would damn well go ahead and do it!
The other teenagers were now talking in the kitchen, Nate's angry tones audible above the rest. After a few minutes Dick heard the soft murmur of Dana's voice, followed by silence. The next thing he knew the others were coming upstairs.
Bolting upright, Dick swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. He wanted to catch Nate before he entered the room he shared with the other boys. Stepping into the hall, Dick could hear Nate complaining loudly as they reached the top of the stairs.
"…bullshit! What does failing one lousy class have to do with football? Pulling me off the team isn't going to make me pass the stupid thing! Math isn't even important; no one uses that crap!"
"You're failing math?" said Dick, before he could stop himself. All four teenagers halted and stared at him.
Dick cringed. "Sorry. I couldn't help overhearing and–"
"You had no business listening in!" Nate snarled at him.
"It wasn't intentional," Dick protested. "But…maybe I can help?" This could be an opportunity to prove to all of them that he wasn't a brat.
"Yeah, right!" Nate sneered. "How could you help me?"
"I could tutor you," Dick offered. "It's no pass, no play, right? You need to get your grades up to get back on the team?"
"Actually, he needs to get a B minimum on a geometry test tomorrow so he can play in the game next week," AJ spoke up, surprising Dick.
Nate turned on the older boy in outrage. "Why did you tell him that?!"
"He's offering to help, man, and it's not like any of us have the skills to tutor you."
"He's just a kid! How the hell is he supposed to tutor me?!" Nate demanded.
Dick scowled. "Actually, I'm thirteen and I take sophomore math."
Nate snorted. "Big whoop."
AJ nudged him. "Dude, hear him out. What have you got to lose?"
"Ah, my dignity?" Nate countered.
Dick rolled his eyes because, seriously? Drama much? "Look, man, I don't know what your issue is with me, but I'm offering my help. You can take or leave it."
Nate just scowled, but AJ looked at Dick and asked seriously, "You really think you can help him?"
Dick shrugged his good shoulder. "Won't know until I try. But math is kind of my thing so…yeah, probably."
Nate crossed his arms. "Math is your thing. What are you, some kind of mathlete or something?"
"Yes, actually. Problem with that?" Dick was proud of being a mathlete, despite what other kids usually thought.
Nate opened his mouth, but this time Terry elbowed him. "Shut it, Nate! Just let him help, alright?"
To Dick's surprise, Nate slumped and muttered out an, "alright, fine."
AJ grinned at Terry before turning back to Dick. "Thanks, man. S'cool of you to do this."
"You're…welcome?" Dick replied, not quite sure what just happened. How the heck had Terry managed to get Nate to agree without even trying?
"You want to tutor him in your room or would you prefer to use ours?" AJ asked.
"His room!" Nate snapped at once. "I don't need you two watching."
AJ shrugged and gave him a lazy grin. "Your call, dude."
Nate muttered something under his breath. Dick couldn't exactly hear what, but he caught a syllable or two that gave him the gist of it and suppressed a grin. Alfred would be thrilled to know those words had been uttered in his presence.
Dick thought Alfred's attempts to shield him from swearing were kind of hilarious. Exactly what kind of speech did he think Dick was exposed to as Robin? The bad guys certainly didn't use words like gosh and darn!
Trying to ignore the curious stares of the other teenagers, Dick addressed Nate. "So…do you want to get started?"
The older boy shrugged sulkily. "Whatever."
Dick resisted the urge to snap at him. He would have to suck it up until he changed Nate's opinion of him. "Okay, come on," he said, moving back into the bedroom.
The older boy followed him in and threw himself into a chair by the desk, dropping his bag with a loud thunk. "No pass, no play," Nate muttered to himself. "Dumbass rule."
"It's state law in Texas," Dick informed him.
Nate gawped at him. "You're kidding!"
Dick shook his head, and Nate scowled. "It's still a stupid rule! And math is stupid; nobody uses it outside of school!"
As a mathlete Dick strongly disagreed, but wisely stayed quiet. Instead, he sat into the chair beside Nate. "What are you finding hard about geometry?"
"Who said I'm finding anything hard?" Nate demanded at once.
"You're failing it," Dick pointed out patiently. "That means you're struggling with something. And I can't help if I don't know what it is."
Nate seemed to wrestle with something before finally muttering, "I don't understand it."
"Which part?"
"What are you, retarded? All of it!"
"Then we'll start with the basics," Dick replied coolly. "But lose the 'tude, alright, man? This will be a lot easier for us both if you're not snapping at me every second." Just because Dick was trying to get on Nate's good side didn't mean he had to be his whipping boy.
Nate started, blinked, and then shrugged. "Alright, fine! Can we do this?"
He started pulling books out of his bag and Dick bit his lip before taking a deep breath and blurting out, "I owe you an apology…for last night."
Nate paused in his task. "What?"
"I'm sorry," Dick repeated. "For calling you a bully. I shouldn't have done it."
Nate stared at him incredulously, mouth open slightly. "You…why…" He shook himself. "Whatever, man, let's just get this over with."
But his attitude towards Dick thawed a little after that.
oOo
Dick's reward for helping Nate was a massive headache that forced him into bed before nine pm. He slept until eleven the next morning and even then he was still exhausted, spending most of the day on the living room couch. He understood now why Dr. Phillips had insisted on no physical exertion. But on the bright side, Nate had been considerably more civil towards him after his tutoring session, even giving Dick a muttered 'thanks' when they were finished. That little victory had helped to lift some of the awful anxiety that had been pressing on Dick ever since he'd arrived at the foster home.
Dick's spirits had been further bolstered by his social worker finally returning Dana's call that afternoon. The woman had informed Dana that Dick would be allowed to see Bruce the following day at twelve pm, and on Monday morning after his hospital appointment. She was still refusing to let Dick go home, but Dick had been expecting that so he hadn't been too disappointed.
Dana, however, had been very surprised by Ms. Elliot's refusal to reunite Dick with Bruce, wondering if it had something to do with the fact that a toddler on Ms. Elliot's watch list had been hospitalized with life-threatening injuries yesterday – explaining why the CPS agent had been out of contact.
Dick doubted that was it. His social worker had been biased against Bruce from the start, and Dick was willing to bet it was because of something more. He didn't know what, but it was definitely weird that Ms. Elliot was being so unreasonable about his case when Dana, who had known her for years, insisted that she was usually very fair.
Maybe Ms. Elliot was in need of a vacation, Dick mused. From what he'd seen, it seemed like the woman worked seven days a week. And with the exception of Bruce, who was a law unto himself, Dick didn't think that kind of work ethic was healthy. He wouldn't have cared except that whatever was going on with Ms. Elliot was impacting on his life.
Dick rubbed tiredly at his temple: pain was starting to build behind it again. He wasn't due any pain medication for at least another hour, but lying down had eased the terrible pain last night so maybe that would help? Grumbling to himself, Dick kicked off his sneakers and lay down on the couch to wait for the pain to pass.
He was asleep in minutes, only waking at the sound of loud, excited voices. Blearily, his eyes focused on the clock on the mantelpiece. It was after four; that must be the others returning from school. Yawning, Dick slowly sat up, a blanket that someone – probably Dana – had tucked around him slipping off his shoulders.
Footsteps sounded in the hall and then Nate appeared in the living-room doorway. "Um…hi," he muttered.
"Hi," Dick replied, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He still felt really tired…
"I didn't mean to wake you."
"No, it's okay," said Dick quickly, swinging his feet onto the floor. "How did your test go?"
"I got an A," Nate told him, in a voice that suggested he didn't quite believe it.
Dick perked up. "Really? That's great! That means you can play next week, right?"
Nate nodded and shuffled awkwardly. "I just wanted to say…thanks. I wouldn't have passed the test without your help."
"You're welcome."
"And…uh, I also sort of owe you an apology. I've been kind of a jerk so…sorry."
Dick gave a sigh of relief. Finally! "It's okay. You're not the first person to call me a spoilt brat."
"I'm not?"
"People expect me to be a brat because of who Bruce is."
"It doesn't bother you?"
Dick shrugged and looked at his feet. "Not a lot I can do about it."
"That's really unfair," Nate offered, and Dick glanced back at him, surprised.
"That people judge you because of your background," Nate filled in. "I mean, if anyone did it to me it'd be prejudice. But it's okay to do it to you because you're rich? I mean…I know I did it," he continued, squirming. "But I was wrong. It– it was really cool of you to tutor me even though I've been such a jerk to you… I've never gotten an A in anything before."
Dick stared at him, not sure where he was going with this.
"Dana said you're supposed to be taking it easy, because of your head. And that helping me has made you kind of sick today. Is that true?"
Dick didn't know how to answer without making Nate feel bad, so he stayed quiet.
"I guess that's a yes," said Nate, looking unhappy. "Crap. I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it," Dick insisted quickly. "It was nice to be able to do something. I've been so bored since my head injury – it sucks not being able to do stuff."
"Yeah, but still…sorry."
"Forget it. Seriously."
They stared at each other for a moment. "So, we cool?" Dick asked carefully.
Nate nodded. "Yeah. We're cool."
Dick gave him a wide grin. "That's good 'cause we're gonna be living together for the next week or so and it'd be kind of awkward if we just kept fighting."
"Next week or so, what happens after that?"
"I go home…I hope. Depends on how my hearing goes."
Nate frowned at him. "You want to go home?"
"Of course." Dick tilted his head. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Because…well…" Nate gestured at Dick's arm.
Dick understood. "Bruce isn't hurting me."
Nate looked at him disbelievingly. "Then how'd you get that broken arm? And what happened to your head?"
"My arm was an accident; I fell on a caving trip. And my head was courtesy of a total idiot at school." Dick scowled. He intended to make Ryan Johnson pay for the hell of the last two weeks once he returned to school. He didn't know how yet, but he'd find a way.
"So…the rich guy didn't hurt you?" Nate said slowly.
Dick shook his head.
"But what about all that stuff they're saying on TV?"
"Lies. All of it."
"Come on, man," said Nate sceptically. "The media can't say shit that isn't true. Isn't that, like, slander or something? And why would CPS pull you out of there if there wasn't something going on?"
"I don't know what's going on with CPS but Bruce would never hurt me. As for the media…" Dick snorted in disgust. "They're just running a witch-hunt against Bruce because of who he is. But he doesn't deserve it, Nate, he really doesn't."
Nate sat on the other couch, opposite Dick. "You're serious?"
Dick nodded. "Completely."
"But I thought–" Nate stopped abruptly.
"You thought what? C'mon, Nate, at this point I've pretty much heard everything."
Nate fidgeted. "I always thought that rich people could get away with anything."
Dick sighed. "Sometimes that's true. Being rich does open doors for people. But that doesn't mean there aren't disadvantages as well."
"Like what?"
"Reporters, for one thing. I know people think it's not a big deal, but having paparazzi nosing into your life and following you around…" Dick grimaced. "It's horrible. And what they say influences how people see you – no matter how untrue it is! Just look at what's happening to Bruce; people are dragging his name through the mud. No one cares that he's innocent. Not to mention that if I were any other kid, I'd be home by now. CPS wouldn't be so focused on me if there wasn't so much publicity around my case."
"Okay, so the media thing sucks. But that's one thing, man, other people have it way worse."
"I know that," Dick was quick to agree. "I'm not saying that rich people have it worse. I'm just saying that being rich doesn't automatically make everything better. There are things that make being rich hard."
Nate shook his head in disbelief. "What could make being rich hard?"
"The people who try to hurt you. For money," Dick answered softly.
"How could hurting some rich guy get anybody money?"
Scepticism still coloured Nate's tone and Dick sighed, knowing he would have to use the worst thing about having money to make Nate understand. "By kidnapping someone they care about and threatening to kill them if they don't pay up."
Nate looked taken aback before his expression shifted into uncomfortable. "I didn't think of that," he admitted.
"Most people don't think of it because it's not something they have to worry about," Dick pointed out quietly.
"And were you ever– Sorry, it's none of my business."
"It's okay." Dick shrugged his good shoulder. "I'm the one who brought it up. And yeah, I was kidnapped last January."
Nate stared at him wide-eyed. "What happened?"
"Got grabbed on a school trip. They used guns to force the school bus off the road and threatened to shoot the teachers who tried to help me." His voice got quieter. "They locked me into this tiny freezer to make sure Bruce wouldn't bring the police to the ransom drop. He had to give them the money before they told him where the freezer was."
Dick couldn't help but shudder at the memory of being forced into the freezer. He'd been trapped in there for almost two hours and had spent it wondering whether he would suffocate or freeze first.
"That's twisted!" Nate exclaimed. Then he frowned. "I thought being locked in a freezer, you know, killed people?"
"Eventually. But how long it takes depends on the size of the freezer and how cold it is."
Nate goggled at him. "How'd you know that?"
"Looked it up afterwards."
Nate gawped at him like he was insane. "You looked it up? Why would you do that? If it were me I'd just want to forget about it!"
"It's kind of hard to forget about it once you've been squashed into a freezer alongside bags of frozen peas."
Nate stared. "You mean…it wasn't one of those walk-in ones? It was an actual freezer chest?!"
Dick nodded.
"That…that's sick! I mean, who– who does that kind of shit?" Nate looked as though he were struggling to get his head around it.
Dick knew how that felt. It had taken him days to get to grips with the fact that someone had been willing to kill him for money.
"How long were you in there?" Nate asked, his eyes wide.
"Almost two hours," Dick answered, beginning to get uncomfortable. Why was Nate so interested in this?
"Two hours," Nate mumbled to himself. "Fucking hell." He shook his head. "I thought that shit only happened on TV!"
Dick shrugged, wondering how to change the subject. They'd gotten a little off the point he was trying to make and he didn't understand why Nate looked so disturbed; surely as an abused kid he'd been through worse?
Fortunately, Dana rapped on the doorframe at just that moment. She smiled at them, and Dick could tell she was pleased that he and Nate were talking. "Sorry to interrupt, but Greg just called; he's coming home early so we're going to have an early dinner. I thought it might be nice if we all watched a movie together afterwards. What do you boys think?"
"Sounds good," Nate replied. "We're still having pizza, right?"
"Of course, honey," Dana assured him. "I've just phoned in the usual order. Would you mind helping Terry set the table? Lyssa is helping me with the garlic bread and salad."
"Sure," he agreed, and got to his feet. Dana turned to Dick.
"Dick, sweetie, you need to take your pills – you slept through your last dose."
"Okay," said Dick, and jammed his feet into his sneakers. Alfred would kill him for the way he'd been manhandling his shoes but Dick still hadn't mastered the art of tying laces one-handed.
"You go ahead, Nate," said Dana. "Dick, let me help you with that. You'll ruin your shoes."
Nate left the room, while Dana squatted down beside Dick and began unpicking his laces. "How's your head feeling?" she asked.
"Fine. I think the nap helped."
"I'm glad. It was very good of you to help Nate last night, but I don't want you to strain yourself like that again, okay?"
"All I did was tutor him," Dick protested.
"For three hours," she reminded him drily. "You're recovering from a serious head injury, honey. You overdid it."
"Sorry."
She finished tying his laces and put a hand on his knee. "Don't apologize, Dick. It was a kind gesture and Nate is really proud of that A. Just think of yourself a little next time, okay?"
"Um…I was thinking about myself a little bit," he confessed. "I thought that if I helped Nate maybe he'd stop thinking I was a spoiled brat."
She gave a small laugh. "Well, it certainly worked! And I'm glad Nate's stopped giving you a hard time."
Dick smiled. "Me too."
"I hope that means you feel a little better about things this evening?"
Dick nodded. Not having that horrible antagonism between them made being here just that little bit easier. And he would get to see Bruce tomorrow! It wasn't the same as being home but it was better than nothing.
"Good." She patted his knee and stood up. "Now, since things are a little better this evening, you think you can eat a full meal for me, honey?"
Dick's stomach rumbled in answer to her question. He gave a sheepish grin while Dana laughed. "I guess there's my answer! Come on, Dick, let's get your pain meds for you."
Dick followed her into the kitchen where Nate and Terry were arguing over movie choices instead of setting the table.
"…not like Denzel Washington?" Terry was saying.
"I never said I didn't like Denzel Washington," Nate retorted. "But The Book of Eli still looks like a pile of crap!"
"Language, Nate," Dana reprimanded mildly, removing a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water.
"Sorry."
Dick grinned. Considering how much Nate swore, he couldn't help but wonder if Dana was fighting a losing battle there.
"Are you boys arguing about movies?" Dana enquired, handing Dick the water and his pills.
Terry nodded. "Yeah. Nate's taste in movies sucks. He wants to watch Iron Man 2!"
"And what's wrong with that?" Nate demanded. "It's got Scarlett Johansson in skin-tight spandex!"
Dick nearly choked on his pills because that sounded exactly like something Wally would say. "Sorry," he wheezed, when the others looked at him. "Water went down the wrong way."
"Boys, I hate to break it to you, but you're wasting your time arguing," Dana told them, taking the glass from Dick and bringing it over to the sink. "It's AJ's turn to pick the movie."
"Aw, man! AJ's taste in movies is even worse than Nate's," Terry complained.
"Still his turn," Dana pointed out, moving over to where Lyssa was busy chopping vegetables and picking up a knife to help her. "Now, don't you two have a table to set? And where's AJ?"
"Here," AJ answered, entering the kitchen via the back door. "I was just putting out the garbage."
"Oh, thank you, honey," said Dana, chopping some onions. "Did you bring the garbage cans back around?"
The muscular teenager nodded and started to wash his hands.
"Hey, AJ," Nate addressed him, opening the cutlery drawer. "Which movie do you want to watch tonight? Iron Man 2 or The Book of Eli? Your choice…"
"Nice of you to whittle it down for me," AJ replied drily. "But I was thinking that maybe Dick could pick the movie since it's his first week staying with us?"
Dick felt his face go warm as every head swivelled to where he was standing by the table. "Um…thanks, AJ, but that's okay. You go ahead and pick."
The older teenager shook his head and gave Dick an easy smile. "Pick the movie, man. Consider it a welcome-to-the-house sort of thing."
"Yeah, and you like Iron Man, right, Dick?" Nate put in at once.
Dick beamed. That was the first time Nate had actually called him by his name.
"No, I'd say he looks more like a Denzel Washington fan," Terry countered quickly.
They both looked so serious… Dick couldn't resist. "What if I'm a subtitles fan?"
Their mouths opened and they stared at him in utter horror. Dick burst out laughing.
"Are you…messing with us?" Nate asked weakly.
Feeling better than he had all week, Dick grinned at him mischievously. "Maybe."
"Dude…" Nate shook his head, pulling several glasses out of a cupboard. "Don't do that! I really thought you meant it."
"Nate, not so many glasses at…once," Dana finished with a sigh as two glasses tumbled out of his hands and shattered on the floor.
"Way to go, numbnuts!" Terry gruffawed.
"Sorry!" Nate cried, quickly putting the other glasses on the table.
"It's okay," said Dana, putting down the knife and moving over to Nate. "AJ, would you get the dustpan and brush, please? Nate, don't cut yourself," she added, when he bent down to pick up the larger pieces of glass.
"I'm really sorry, Dana," Nate muttered, as she knelt beside him.
"It's fine, honey," she said soothingly. "It was an accident. But next time, try taking fewer glasses out of the cupboard, okay?"
He nodded just as the doorbell went off.
Dana glanced towards the hall, surprised. "The pizza's here already? That was fast. Lyssa, my purse is on the counter. Will you take care of it, please?"
Looking extremely grumpy, the girl stopped washing lettuce and wiped her hands on her jeans, before picking up Dana's purse and heading into the hall.
"You don't have to talk to him but at least give him a smile to say thanks!" Dana called after her. "Oh, thanks, honey," she said to AJ as he reappeared with the dustpan and brush.
Dana and Nate stood up to let AJ sweep up the broken bits of glass, Nate holding the larger chunks of glass he'd picked up.
"Nate, put those in the bin before you cut yourself," instructed Dana.
Nate quickly complied. Dusting his hands off, he turned around and promptly froze, a look of shock on his face as he stared at something behind Dick and the others.
"Nate, what's…?" Dana's voice trailed off into a gasp as she, Dick, and the two other boys turned to see what Nate was staring at.
Four armed men wearing balaclavas stood there.
One of them had his hand on Lyssa's shoulder and he shoved the trembling girl towards them. "Nobody move and nobody do anything stupid," he warned.
"W-what do you want?" asked Dana in a shaky voice. "Money? We don't have anything of value in the house…"
"Lady, we both know that's not true." The man shifted his eyes towards Dick, who felt his stomach plummet. "Over here, rich boy."
"What? No!" Dana cried, stepping in front of Dick.
The man scowled. "No one needs to get hurt. But if you get in our way…" He pointed his gun at her. "…I will kill you."
"No!" Dick yelled, flinging himself in front of Dana, his good arm held wide. "Don't shoot her!"
"Then get over here now!" the man barked.
"Dick, no!" Dana grabbed him as he took a step forward.
Dick looked up at her. "It's okay," he said quietly. "They…they just want money. They won't hurt me." I hope. The memory of the freezer was fresh in his head after that talk with Nate.
One of the men laughed. "Looks like the brat already knows the score."
Dana looked like she was about to cry. "Please don't do this," she begged the men, tightening her arms around Dick.
"Lady, don't try my fucking patience!" the first man barked, cocking the hammer of the gun he had pointing at Dana.
"NO!" Dick wrenched himself out of Dana's grip. "I have to," he told her, walking towards the men. "I don't want anyone to get hurt."
"Smart boy!" sneered the man, seizing Dick's arm and practically flinging him towards the other men. "You know what to do," he directed at them.
The men immediately closed in around Dick. One of them untied his sling and pulled it off, before yanking his arms roughly to bring his wrists together. Dick couldn't hold back a small cry as sharp pain shuddered down his broken arm. The man ignored him while another man started to bind his wrists tightly with cord.
"Stop it!" cried Dana in anguish. "You're hurting him!"
"Lady, shut your yap before I do it for you!" the one who had been doing all the talking growled. "Now, listen up. You're gonna pass a message on."
"M-message?" Dana repeated, watching the men bind Dick's wrists. His broken arm was spasming painfully from the position they had pulled it into, but Dick clenched his teeth so he wouldn't cry out. He didn't want to upset Dana any more than she already was.
"You tell Wayne fifty million dollars if he wants to see his kid alive again. Tell him no cops and we want the money by tomorrow. Capiche?"
White-faced, Dana nodded. "Please don't hurt him. He's just a boy."
"We won't need to hurt him so long as Wayne delivers. Now, what's the message again?"
"It was…you wanted fifty million and you…oh…" Dana put a hand over her mouth as she started to cry. "I– I'm sorry. I can't…r-remember!"
"Lady–"
"You want fifty million," AJ interjected calmly, stepping up beside Dana and putting an arm around her shoulders, "by tomorrow. And Mr. Wayne isn't to call the cops."
"Make sure you tell him he won't see his kid alive again if he doesn't deliver," the man reminded him. "Tell him we'll call at five pm tomorrow to arrange a trade."
Suddenly, one of the men seized Dick from behind and a rag was pressed over his nose and mouth. The sickly smell of chloroform choked him and the skin around his mouth started to burn. Reflexively, Dick tried to roll his head away but the hand holding the rag tightened its grip.
Dick tried not to panic. These guys must be new to this if they were using something as old school as chloroform, which meant they probably had no clue as to the dangers of the chemical. His first instinct was to hold his breath and fake unconsciousness, until he realized that he was too tense with pain to go limp. He wouldn't be able to fool them so he would have to try and minimize his exposure to the chloroform by losing consciousness as fast as possible…something that took longer than the movies suggested.
Reluctantly, Dick breathed in and coughed a little as the chloroform started to burn his nasal passages. His limbs went numb almost immediately.
"Put him in the van," the man who seemed to be in charge ordered. "I'll wait here while you load him up just to make sure everyone stays put until we leave."
Dick's head rocked dizzily when two of the men snatched him up, and the last thing he saw before he was carried out was Nate's horrified face.