The Joker succeeded.
By targeting him on the night he was chosen to lead his brothers, and leading him to failure, the Joker divided Dick from his family. Now, with his attack on Will, he drives Dick further and further away from the people who could help him.
Blaming Harley for Will's condition, Nightwing rashly goes after her, battling her in a foolish attempt to get the Joker's attention. Harley warns him against it, but he doesn't listen; if the Joker finds him, in his current state of well-being, he's done for.
Dick had to admit, he'd missed being at the station. As he sat in the chair in front of Commissioner Gordon's desk, wearing his uniform, he couldn't help but feel a bit relieved. This was distanced from Batman and the chaos that that side of his life had brought recently. "It's good to be back, Sir."
"Are you sure you're fit to be back on active duty?" Gordon asked him, glancing over the top of his glasses as he pushed files around on his desk.
"Definitely. Thank you, for looking out for me," he added, smiling a little. "The rest really helped."
"Good because we need you functioning at one hundred percent." Gordon picked up a pen and rolled it between his thumb and pointer finger. "Gotham is in turmoil right now."
"Yes sir," Dick nodded solemnly. "I can assure you I'll be at full throttle. You can count on me, as always."
"What the hell?" Gordon asked suddenly, looking over Dick's shoulder. Dick's eyebrows knit and he followed the Commissioner's gaze through the windows of his office. Every officer was leaving their desk to run toward the front of the station. The Commissioner pushed back his chair and strode over to the door. "What is going on?" he yelled. Dick couldn't stop a sinking feeling in his stomach, and he didn't know why.
"There's something happening in the street!" an officer hollered over his shoulder as he followed everyone to the front door. Dick trailed behind Gordon as he marched through the station, pushing aside anyone who got in his way. Two detectives at the front door were smashed behind as he stormed out into the street. Dick stepped confusedly down the front steps of the station The sun was setting, and the old street lamps were starting to come on. A ring of people, including officers, were gathered on the sidewalk. Dick started toward them.
"Call an ambulance!" someone screamed.
"Where did he come from? Did he walk here?!" Dick's footsteps hurried a bit.
"How is he alive?!" a woman shrieked, backing out of the circle. Gordon quickly filled her spot.
"Jesus Christ!" he swore. Dick shoved his way through the officers angrily.
"Get these civilians back! Get them…" Dick barked at the other officers, until he finally reached the center of the crowd. He recoiled in shock. Will was kneeling at the center of the circle, his legs splayed out beside him as he clung to the shirt of a young police officer. The man was half recoiled away from Will in horror and disgust. Will's head was bobbing toward the young man in desperation. Tears mixed with blood ran in jagged tracks from between the neatly stitched x's across his eyelids. His jaw was working slightly, but it strained uselessly against the matching seam binding his lips together. The worst part was the twisted smile forced across his cheeks by the two simply knotted pieces of string.
Dick swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his throat as he dropped to his knees beside his partner. "Will. Will! I'm here. Come here." Dick pulled Will to him, forcing him to lie down with his head in Dick's lap. "Don't move!" he commanded, and then looked up at the other officers. Some of the civilians had already pulled out camera phones. "Somebody give me a pocket knife!" Dick shouted. One of the officers quickly unfolded the blade and Dick put a hand on Will's chest. "This is going to hurt a bit. Do not move!" he snapped, bracing a hand against Will's chin. He cut away the pieces of thread pulling Will's cheeks into a smile, and then tucked the knife under the stitch on his lips.
"Gordon, get these people back!" Dick shouted, and then clenched his jaw. "Don't move, Will," he reminded him, and then swiftly cut all of the stitches off of his mouth in one skillful move. Will made his first noise as a cry of pain escaped his lips.
"Officers get these people back!" Gordon was ordering, trying to get the crowd away as they gasped in fascination. Will whimpered frantically as Dick tugged the threads out of the holes. Dick pulled Will up into his arms, bracing Will's head on his shoulder.
"I've got you, Will. You're safe now. I'm not gonna do the eyes. They'll do that at the hospital. Can you tell me what happened?" Dick breathed, dropping the pocketknife.
"The Joker," Will mumbled quietly through his swollen lips.
"All right. The ambulance is almost here, just breathe. You're safe now," he repeated. Will's hand groped blindly at Dick's chest.
"He wanted to know about Nightwing." His words were slightly garbled, but he was frantic to get them out. Blood dripped out of the corner of his mouth. Dick wiped it away as gently as he could, and he swallowed the terror rising in his chest. "I didn't say anything," Will whispered quietly, baring his teeth at the pain.
"That doesn't matter right now, Will, you need to stop talking. It's only going to hurt worse-"
"-and Dick," Will stammered on. "Harley-" he cut off with a wince and a whimper. "Harley, she-" he tried again.
"-Will. Be quiet. This can wait." Dick pleaded. They could hear sirens wailing toward them down the street. Will groaned as his cheek spasmed in pain. Dick stood, lifting Will off of the ground.
"Everyone out of the way!" he bellowed at the crowd. The ambulance stopped by the curb and Dick carried Will toward it as they threw open the back doors. "I'm so sorry Will," Dick said as he handed him up to the EMT in the back. He didn't step onto the ambulance, and instead backed away from the doors. "But there's something I have to do."
Harley rolled her eyes at the noise of the poker game as she walked down the hall. She tossed the bedroom door open and headed to the dresser, one hand reaching for the brush as the other went to remove a pigtail. Her hand froze in midair. The window was open; the curtains rustling gently. She spun around, searching the shadows. When she turned back to the mirror, she had to react quickly to stop the escrima stick coming at her head. She caught it and stared in shock at Nightwing's face, furious behind his mask. He swung the other escrima stick and she dodged it, leaping away from him.
"What are you doing!?" she hissed. He scowled, his jaw pushed forward in anger, his stance spread and ready to fight.
"You wanted me to hate you. You and the clown have my attention. Message received," he spat, brandishing both escrima sticks. Her eyes narrowed.
"You shouldn't have come here," she threatened, body tense. Nightwing looked beside himself with fury. His familiar playful, cocky smile didn't grace his face. He didn't even smirk.
"I'm not here for you," he snapped, his voice dangerously on edge. Though Nightwing seemed healthier than he had in days, he still looked taxed. The part that scared her, however, was that he didn't seem to care. He looked too angry to worry about his own well-being, and it was a dangerous state of mind combined with his emotions; every ounce of pain, frustration, anger, sorrow and determination had boiled over into sheer rage. He pointed an escrima stick at her menacingly, his words laced with disdain. "Where's your lover?"
"Sorry," she dragged out the word, "but he's busy at the moment. It looks like you'll just have to settle for me." Her hand twitched as she watched his every move carefully. "And I can't afford to make any more mistakes."
"I don't think you can either. Let's just call him in here, shall we?" Nightwing snapped, and then smashed the mirror beside him with lightning speed. The glass shattered loudly and fell in smashed pieces to the floor. He lunged at her, part of him reluctant to hurt her; images of Will flashed through his mind, and he bit down on his lip, any doubts he had vanishing. His escrima stick lashed out, and she caught it, using his momentum.
"You're foolish for retaliating," she snapped at him as she hooked one foot on the back of his knee, buckling it. He fell to the ground, and she pinned him down. Nightwing glared at her resentfully.
"I'm defending my partner," he snapped. "It's what people do for people they love." In one swift motion, he threw her off of him and jackknifed to his feet.
"I know. I'm doing the same," she muttered, as she got back on her feet. She attempted a spinning kick at his face, which he caught, tossing her aside again.
"I'm taking the Joker to prison or the morgue. Maybe not tonight, but I'm going to do it. Then what will you have left, Harley?" he shouted angrily, advancing on her. She dodged his first few blows, coming fast from all angles, but then he anticipated her move and caught her arm, twisting it behind her back.
"I can tell you right now, you aren't hurting anyone I love." She ducked down, twisting around and ignoring pain it sent through her shoulder. Harley kneed him in the stomach as she pried her arm free. He doubled over, crying out and clutching at the stab wound in his side, and then spotted the chair beside the table. He picked it up and hurled it at Harley, knowing she would dodge it; when she did, it smashed against the opposite wall. She was already charging, fist winding back. Nightwing caught her punch, and she grabbed his shoulder with her other hand. She pulled her body around so she landed behind him. He spun around after her as she tried to punch him again; Nightwing caught it on his arm instead of the chest. He quickly grabbed her hands, gripping them tight.
"You forget. We've done this dance before. I know you, Harley. I know how you work." He hissed furiously, his lips inches from hers. He swiftly pulled back, and as he released her hands, his hand shot out and chopped quickly down on the gash he knew was on her thigh. Her face contorted in pain, but instead of her leg buckling, she dropped to her knee and swung the other out to knock his feet out from under him. Nightwing jumped up, spun, and kicked out, his boot barely missing her face as she leaned back. He hesitated, and then leapt up again, this time kicking the foot of the bed so hard that the wood splintered, cracking loudly. Harley glared at him.
"Correction: you knew me, and you should have stayed away like I told you to." Harley rolled backward up to her feet. She slid over and grabbed something propped up against the dresser. An oversized hammer. Taking a step toward him, she swung across at him. Nightwing cried out and backflipped out of the way, his feet planting on the desk, sending the papers and various things on top of it flying.
"When have I ever done as I'm told?" he mocked, and then leapt off of the desk as she swung at him again. The desk splintered under her hammer, and he laughed. "That's right. Help me make noise. Call the bastard in here."
"I'm not the one he's going to try to kill when he gets in here," she grunted as she swung at him again. He launched himself into the air and brought both feet down on the mallet, the head hitting the floor with a thud. He braced himself on the handle and then backflipped, hooking her chin with his toe as he kicked out. Harley's head snapped back, and she saw stars.
"We'll see who kills who," Nightwing said icily, picking up his second escrima stick off of the floor and sliding it into the holster beside it's brother.
"Tired of your night sticks?" Harley taunted, leaning on the handle of her hammer as she watched him.
"Not at all," he mused, but his eyes were still cold and unsmiling. Nightwing flicked a wingding from one hand to the other. She could hear the barely audible shink of the sharp blade hissing past the fingers of his gloves. His eyebrow twitched and with a flick of his wrist, he launched three of them at her at once. She flipped up over them, landing on the desk. Her hammer clattered to the floor.
"I've always wondered something about those." She smiled wickedly. "Was wingding really the best name you could come up with?"
"The name doesn't really matter, so long as they work," he snapped, and the wingdings smashed through the window behind her. Harley heard footsteps coming down the hall. Nightwing threw another wingding, barely missing her ankle as it embedded itself in the desktop.
"I still can't decide if it's worse than batarang or not," she mused as they both watched the door. Nightwing suddenly swept an escrima stick under her feet and she toppled off of the desk.
"I named them both," he laughed, almost fooled into smiling. Almost. For a moment, it had felt like they were together again, just talking. The footsteps in the hall drew closer as someone suddenly smashed through the window.
"You stupid son of a bitch," Batgirl rushed at him, grabbing Nightwing by the uniform. She dragged him away from Harley and threw him out the window, diving after him; leaving Harley in stunned silence and panic, alone in the destroyed bedroom. How would she explain this mess to the Joker?!
"I was-" Nightwing began, but Batgirl cut him off as they grappled to the rooftop across the street.
"-run. I don't care what you were doing! You turned your comm off, again, and Bruce is going to beat the snot out of you when we get back, he was beside himself when he found out that you were running around as Nightwing when he specifically told you-"
"-Babs, I nearly had the Joker!" Nightwing bellowed, grabbing her hand and yanking her to a stop. She tore her hand away.
"We don't want the Joker!" she shouted, slapping him across the face. "You used to be a team player, Nightwing. Now you don't listen to the rest of us. We have to work together to take this down, you can't go in alone like this! That's why Batman sent me here to haul your ass back to the Batcave!"
"How the hell did you find me!?" Nightwing demanded.
"The tracer in your suit. Batman sent me after you. You know that you aren't supposed to be back in the field until tomorrow!" she cried angrily. "You're going to get seriously hurt if you keep this up!" Batgirl cried, breathing hard. Her cheeks were flushed with anger.
"I could have taken him," Nightwing snapped furiously. Batgirl glared him down.
"You would have died in that room had I not come for you," she hissed, jabbing a finger at his chest. "It doesn't make any difference, though. Whether you die here or at the Batcave, because I do not want to be there when Bruce gets ahold of you. What has gotten into you, Dick!?" Batgirl shook her head angrily.
"I'm not going to the Batcave," Nightwing said flatly, walking to the edge of the roof. "Try to stop me, and I won't hesitate to go right through you."
"Dick what happened? Where are you going? I've got to tell Batman something-"
"-I'm going to the hospital. The Joker got ahold of Will." He cut her off, his voice controlled and quiet. Batgirl stared at him in shock, and then nodded slowly.
"Okay. Okay, I'm coming with you."
