"Okay," he said authoritatively. "Gallagher, we need to get out of this storm. Are there any safe places to pull into nearby?"

"…Not really, no. The coast through here is mostly rough rock." Holding a soaked handkerchief to his nose, he peered up at the standing man. "We can't go anywhere in my boat, anyway. I looked downstairs a minute ago; she's taking on water fast."

Bruce felt a lance of guilt slide through him. "…Are you insured?" Not that I won't be replacing it with something much nicer anyway, but I can't exactly come out and say as much right now.

"Yeah, but…" he shook his head sadly. "My granddaddy built this boat. It's been in my family for three generations."

"…I'm sorry," he apologized sincerely. "I couldn't see any other option at the time." I thought my son was dead. I had to get my hands on the bastard I thought did it. There was no other way…

"Well, at least we're all safe now," Gina cut in. "It's okay, Marty. You can have the Coeur de Lise. I guess….I guess it's technically mine to give, now…" She trailed off as the strain and grief of everything that had happened over the past two days finally hit her. Burying her face in Gallagher's shoulder, she began to sob quietly, letting loose real tears this time. The fisherman pulled her close, neglecting his still-dripping face in favor of trying to comfort the girl he had always thought of as a daughter.

"Hey." Seeing Denny jerk his head, Bruce followed him up towards where the modern fiberglass craft had split the deck of the old wooden one. "I figure they need a minute. I just wanted to say…well…I'm glad your boy is all right."

"Yeah…Me, too." He surveyed the damage, not wanting to think about the gaping hole he'd felt in his heart when it had seemed that Dick was lost to him. "…Listen. He and I…we need you all to keep what you know to yourselves."

"Don't really know much to be telling, to be honest, mister."

"You know enough. More than you should, preferably, but it couldn't be helped. I wouldn't ask you to do it if it wasn't a matter of extreme importance."

"…I'm just a simple small town cop," Denny shrugged. "All I know is that two fellows in masks came around, took out all the guards, and then…what? Disappeared, I reckon? Is that what you're going to do when we make landfall?"

"Yes. With any luck we'll be able to split off from the rest of you before we encounter anyone else."

"…How are we going to get out of this, though? The storm's awful, and I wouldn't be surprised if there are still sharks around. Didn't Marty say earlier he saw sharks?"

"Yes. We'll need to get everyone onto the Coeur de Lise," Bruce told him. "It doesn't look too badly damaged. Then hopefully we'll be able to separate from this wreck and get somewhere safe without capsizing. That's about all we can do." He frowned. "There should be someone on the other boat, just in case it gets pushed away. You wait up there, in the wheelhouse. I'll tell the others."

"I'm not much of a hand with a boat," Denny reminded him. "You got us out here, maybe you should-"

"I'm not going aboard without my son," he interrupted stubbornly. "You'll manage, if you have to."

"…Well, you're the boss," the police chief sighed, cradling his injured arm as he began to climb laboriously back onto the still-intact vessel.

Bruce watched him go, then leaned forward to peer at the cleave he'd made in the deck. The boats were struggling against one another, straining under the waves that struck their hulls at strange angles, and he could see water gushing in below every time the Coeur de Lise pulled back slightly. We've got to get off of this thing, he grimaced. If they pull apart, it won't be afloat very long. His feet carried him unstably back around to the rear of the ship. "Head up front," he ordered Marty, who was still rocking back and forth with Gina in his grasp. "Get onto the other boat, quickly."

"C'mon, baby," the fisherman urged her to her feet. "Let's go home. Margie's probably having kittens about now."

The girl wiped her eyes and gave him a tiny smile before she sniffed and addressed Bruce. "You'll get…?" She didn't say his name, instead just inclining her head to where the other teen was kneeling in front of the unconscious Markowitz.

He nodded. "Go, now. We'll talk once we're away from here." She's tough, he appreciated as she helped her injured godfather move towards the bow. I hope this means he's got a knack for picking strong women. God only knows there's no place for the weak ones in our line of work. Musing on that, he moved to the railing and rested a hand on the boy's shoulder. "We should get out of here."

"I know. We're sinking, right?"

"Yes."

"…You'll have to help me with crazy; he's heavy."

"Sure." Bending, he grabbed Markowitz's feet as Dick clung to the guard's shoulders, and they started towards the more seaworthy craft. "You weren't kidding," he called over the wind. "He weighs a ton."

"Told you. His head is like a rock, I practically broke my hand when I hit him."

"You had him out cold, though. He didn't even flinch when I started on him."

"Second time's the charm, I suppose. He's the one who knocked me out on the island."

"How?"

"He punched me with a broken hand." Seeing Bruce's eyebrows go up as they moved carefully onto the narrow strip of deck that led alongside the wheelhouse, he nodded. "I know, right? I couldn't believe it either. But then again, he's clearly psychotic, so-" He broke off as they were shoved into the wall by a sudden surge. The boat tilted upwards almost forty-five degrees, and both of them dropped their respective ends of the unconscious man in order to grab onto the nearest handholds. Behind Bruce, the Coeur de Lise also rolled perilously to the side, then began to slide away from her disabled sister. Looking up to find Gina screaming soundlessly at him from the safety of her father's ship, Dick's eyes widened. "Bruce!" he hollered, knowing his guardian couldn't see what was happening from his angle and that no one else stood a chance of hearing his name. "We've split! They're floating away!"

Goddamn it, the billionaire cursed to himself, craning his neck around to try and see how far their destination now was from them. We'll have to use the grapples to pull ourselves over. I hate to do it, they're a known Batman tool, but we couldn't jump that gap even if we didn't have a dead-weight prisoner to carry with us. "Go!" he commanded. "Use your grapple and go!"

"What about crazy?" came shouted back.

"I'll bring him. Just go, I'm right behind you!" he insisted as the front of Gallagher's boat, now completely open to the pounding surf, slipped down into the water.

I don't want to leave you with him. I'd rather we went over on the same line, Dick fretted as he reached for his belt with one hand. There was no way, though, that one rope could hold all three of them. Pulling out his grappling gun, he met Bruce's eyes for just a second. You better be right behind me, his gaze relayed fiercely.

Go. Don't wait for me. Go, the billionaire's shone back.

The teen extended his arm, aiming for the railing of the Coeur de Lise. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, another massive jolt struck them. Both masked figures managed to keep from being thrown over, holding tight to the wall, but the insensate Markowitz was less fortunate. He flew into the railing like a rag doll, momentum pushing him up and over until his center of balance hung out over the water. Then he plunged downwards, completely unaware.

Dick bolted for the edge the instant he realized what was happening, and just managed to get ahold of the guard's ankle. It's too much, he realized immediately. The thought gave him just enough time to move one of his hands back onto the railing before he, too, was flipped over it.

He hung, breathlessly clinging to the side of the boat and to Markowitz, for what felt like forever. The plates of his vest dug offensively into his shoulder as he struggled to keep the captive from falling completely into the ocean, and his injured ribs sang joylessly with pain. Wrapping his fingers into the man's bootlaces, he tried to heave him upwards, hoping to keep the high waves from hitting them both quite so hard, but it was no use. This is seriously the second worst day of my entire life, he decided as he felt himself losing his grip on the rail. No question about it. Two strong hands closed over his arm just as he slipped, one pinching his wrist as the other entangled its fingers with his. Looking up, he could see Bruce mouthing something, but the freezing water that kept blowing into his face made it difficult to tell what it was.

For all that the masked man didn't believe in such things, he was now beginning to wonder if his dream of losing Dick to the sea had been a premonition. He had lived plenty of nightmares, to be sure, but usually the real-life horror preceded the night terrors. Wrapping his legs around the vertical bars of the railing as he grasped wretchedly at his son's arm, he couldn't help but imagine an alien-like creature reaching up to claim the boy for itself, just as had happened in his dream. The storm they were trapped in had certainly stirred up the sharks, after all, and hadn't Aquaman said before that there were plenty of strange things, unknown to man, that lurked in the darkest depths of the world's oceans?

He yanked upwards, every muscle straining to fight the finale of that crushing vision, striving to change the course of events that had replayed in his slumbering mind so many times in the past months. He tried to relay most of the force through the hand grasping the teen's wrist, not because he honestly believed his fingers would pop off as they had in the nightmare but because all of the logic he possessed couldn't make him forget how it had felt when they'd done so. Somewhere close by, there was a dire cracking sound, and the railing shifted slightly beneath him. It's too much weight, he panicked. …We have to drop Markowitz. There's no other way out. I can't lift them, and I can't even let go with one hand to try and grapple onto something and give myself that extra pulling force or he'll slip. If he hits that water, it's over. He'll be crushed against the boat, or drowned, or eaten, and I won't be able to do anything. He didn't like it, not in the least, but if he had to choose between the life of a crazed killer and that of his son, his partner, his everything, there was no competition. Hating himself a little, he opened his mouth and screamed, hoping his words would be audible. "Let him go! Drop him!"

Dick stared upwards, shaking his head, completely unable to make out what his guardian was telling him to do. "I can't understand you!" he yelled back. And he probably can't understand me. Great. This is exactly what I imagined we'd be doing on vacation. When he'd considered the kinds of problems they might face in trying to rescue Gina and solve Bryant's murder, dangling from a sinking ship in the midst of a hurricane while trying not to let an insane killer fall had not occurred to him. Even if it had, he probably would have written it off as too absurd. I should know better by now, after running with Batman for so long. The only thing unlikely to happen when you're wearing a mask at his side is for everything to go smoothly.

The situation was getting more extreme by the second. His arms were already numb, his fingers frozen; every muscle ached from a combination of his injuries, exhaustion, and the struggle of keeping upright on the unsteady boat. Markowitz, he knew, was bleeding, and there was no doubt in his mind that some of it had made it into the water. If there were still sharks nearby, they were likely honing in on their position at this very moment. And makos can fly, he reminded himself. So even out of the water, we could be totally screwed.

He pursed his lips as an unpleasant idea skipped through his brain. I could let go of Markowitz, he realized. I could let him fall. Bruce would be able to pull me up, no problem, even with the bulletproof vest; the extra person is what's got us stuck like this. How can I, though? I'd be sentencing him to death. But he is a murderer…He shot Bryant point blank by his own admission, he tried to kill me, and he threw Green, who was on his side, to the sharks. And he enjoyed doing all of those things. His fingers slackened on the guard's boot for a second, then tightened again. No. No, it's wrong. If I let him go, I'll never be able to forgive myself. I don't want to die like this, but living with the knowledge that I killed another person, even a complete douche like Markowitz, would be worse.

His reverie was ended as the boat shifted violently, rearing up into the air. The stern hovered, slowly rising ever higher as the craft was sucked into the ocean. At this new angle, the waves didn't so much wash over him as slam him into the hull angrily. "Ow!" he couldn't help screaming as his damaged side collided with tarred wood.

The blow had the unfortunate effect of startling Markowitz back into the land of the living. Dick looked down as the foot in his hand twitched, then kicked. "Quit it!" he screamed uselessly. "I'm trying to help you!" The guard flailed harder, his face twisting into a rictus of fear and anger as he found himself suspended over the ocean with his hands bound. "Stop struggling, you idiot!" The teen was really tempted to let go now, but before he could talk himself back out of just giving the man to the sea, it took him for itself.

Both of them saw the shadow just before it broke the water. The masked boy gasped and pulled his legs up instinctively; the guard just gave a blood-curdling shriek as his head and shoulders disappeared into the carnivore's gaping mouth. Knowing that there was no helping him now, Dick pulled his fingers free of the man's shoelaces and stared in disbelief as he was pulled beneath the surface.

A heartbeat later he was on the precariously tipped deck of Gallagher's boat, Bruce's arms nearly breaking him in half as they wrapped around him. After a brief second during which he would have sworn he heard his guardian all but wailing in his ear, they were flying through the air, tiny drops of seawater lashing at them cruelly. He felt them land on the Coeur de Lise, and lowered his feet to the tossing – but not, he noted, sinking – deck. Still tight against the masked man, the teen opened his eyes and watched the last third of Gallagher's boat plunge into the dark water.

"…Bruce," he whispered as a hand wove through his hair and gripped the back of his head possessively. "…It's okay now."

There was a moment during which he received no response. "It will be, chum," came back finally. "It will be." A pensive pause. "Alfred's going to skin us alive."

"Oh, god," the teen groaned. "He'll never let us go on vacation again."

"We might be able to convince him to let us go to a deserted island where there's no chance of us encountering other people. Maybe. I kind of doubt it."

"Think Uncle Clark will let us borrow the Fortress of Solitude?" Dick joked.

"I'm going to let you make that request." Although if it was you asking, he'd probably say yes. Hell, he'd probably offer to fly you there, hang around to see how you liked it, and then suggest a snowball fight.

"…It'll never work. Alfred will remember that there could be polar bears. Although, after sharks, I think I could take on a polar bear."

"Let's never, ever test that theory."

"Deal." They broke apart finally, letting a whole two inches of space come between them. Bruce's eyes flicked over the boy's shoulder, and a tiny smirk crossed his lips. "What?"

"I think you have a damsel to comfort," he said slyly, spying Gina standing a few feet away, barely restraining herself as she waited for them to finish talking.

She'd watched the entire ordeal, rushing over when she saw them somehow flying through the air towards the ship. As eager as she was to plant a ridiculously sloppy kiss on the other teen, she couldn't bring herself to interrupt what was clearly a very emotionally charged embrace. It was, she had thought, exactly the way her father would have hugged her at this moment, had he been alive to do so. He might not be the nicest seeming man in the world, she considered Bruce, but nobody with half a brain could ever doubt how much he loves Dick. Then the other teen turned to face her, grinning from ear to ear, and Bruce fled from her thoughts as she dove at him.

Trying not to watch them kiss but unable to move past them onto the back deck, the billionaire just held onto the railing and smiled softly. Still growing up too damn fast, he sighed to himself. But at least I get to watch it happen.