Dick sat bolt upright in bed. A bead of acrid sweat dripped from his chin to join the moisture that had already soaked into the sheets, but he barely noticed. His brain was focused on two things, and two things only; drawing great sobbing gasps of air into his lungs, which ached as though he'd been holding his breath for two weeks, and victory.
Victory. A slow smile spread across his panting lips. Victory. Finally he had forced himself to remain asleep through the worst parts of his nightly horror-spiel; finally he had seen pride rather than betrayal on the faces of his bloodied and bruised loved ones; finally he had reconquered his own mind. It was over, and he was free.
Free, he amended as he stood beneath an invigoratingly hot shower a few minutes later, to a point. There was still Nona to contend with, and her ongoing presence in Gotham would no doubt continue to cause everyone to suffer through long nights and little sleep. Still, at least now he would be able to devote his full mental capabilities to her capture. His physical readiness was improving too, he noted as he tested his injured shoulder and wrist. There was no chance that Batman would let him out of the house in costume for several more weeks at the minimum, but for now the mere fact of progress was enough to make him grin.
Dressed, refreshed, and eager to get to work, he all but skipped down the stairs to the cave. Before he reached the bottom riser, however, he halted. Barbara and Alfred were still out of sight, but he could hear them speaking in hushed, nervous tones. As if that wasn't worrisome enough, they were talking about him.
"...Should we tell him?" the woman asked.
"I don't think informing him that the Joker has gotten loose and could be hiding in either Bludhaven or Gotham is the sort of thing that's likely to help him with his current struggles, do you?"
"No. But he's going to be livid when he finds out eventually."
"I'm aware of that, but to be honest with you I would rather deal with his anger at a later date than see his internal war made worse than it already is. I already fear the damage that will be done to his physical well-being if his nightmares continue as they have been."
"Yeah...but how do we hide it from him when he comes down? Even if he sleeps until morning somehow, they'd have to catch the Joker tonight to keep his escape from being something that might affect him."
There was a brief pause. "...We shall simply have to cross that bridge when we come to it, Miss Barbara. For now he is asleep and oblivious, and I for one have no intention of waking him to share the news. Perhaps we will be fortunate and he will stay upstairs long enough for Batman and the others to rearrest the Joker. If not...well, if not then at least Master Wayne might be back to break the news to him."
Barbara sighed. "That would be the best way, I agree. I just wish there was more we could do. I hate seeing him like this, Alfred. It...it breaks my heart."
"As it does mine. The best we can do at the moment, though, is to help Batman retrieve the Joker before Master Dick knows he's loose. Perhaps our small contributions will be enough to make our extra worrying unnecessary, hmm?"
"Right. Well...I'll try to get in touch with Red Hood. Somehow I doubt he's going to be on any frequency we normally use, but...I'll scour until I find him. Somebody has to warn him."
"Very good. I will see to the car and get it on its way to the city. Call for me if any new information comes in, would you?"
"I will."
Dick stood in the shadows and struggled to put everything he'd just heard together. The Joker was loose, and apparently no one knew which side of the river he was on. The only explanation he could come up with for such an uncertainty was that the psychopath's escape had been made in Bludhaven, which in turn meant that something must have gone wrong at Northfield Labs. The question now was whether the Joker had slipped away because he didn't want to go back into the silent room or because he had figured out what his lieutenant was up to and wanted to put a stop it to.
Either way they had a serious dilemma on their hands. If Nona wasn't ready to strike and the Joker didn't know she was working against him, the danger might be no more than was usual when the clown skipped out of Arkham. There was no telling what the woman had been up to in the days since she'd disappeared, though, and given the speed at which all of her previous moves had been made Dick doubted that she was sitting back and twiddling her thumbs. Even if she wasn't fully ready, she had to be far enough along that she wouldn't be able to hide her machinations from an unjailed Joker; once she knew he was out, she would have no choice but to strike with whatever she had.
And that, he gulped, was where Jason would come into the picture. The whole premise of his agreement with Nona was that he would get to kill the Joker when she made her move, and if the rest of Dick's logic was sound then that would be tonight. But then what? With the Joker dead and Nona in control, the entire playing field would be altered. The slight advantage of decades of local experience that the Batfamily possessed would be cheapened to the point of worthlessness as every known alliance in their databases underwent an upheaval. Beyond that, Nona had made it clear that she would brook no opposition from them or anyone else; once the Joker was gone, Batman and his birds would be right at the top of her hit list.
And in the middle of all of it would be his little brother, still trying to play double agent in a game of ever-higher stakes. The day could easily come when he found himself standing with gun in hand before Batman or one of the birds and heard Nona order him to pull the trigger. It would be the ultimate test of his loyalty, Dick realized, and someone as wickedly clever as Nona wouldn't hesitate to make Red Hood take it. The only way he could see to avoid that day was for Nona's power to remain incomplete, or better yet, to be crushed, and the best way to make sure that happened was for the entire family to work together.
That, he grimaced, included him. Barbara wouldn't find Jason on the radio, of that much he was certain, but she'd been correct when she'd said that someone had to warn him. Batman, Red Robin, and Robin were too busy chasing the Joker to search for Red Hood as well; the only person left to play carrier pigeon was Nightwing. Things were moving too fast, he thought as he shrugged off his sling with a wince, but he couldn't hang back any longer. His family needed him, and he was going to be there for them whether they wanted him or not.
Alfred's steps had faded away towards the garage while he'd been frantically calculating in the dark, and he could hear Barbara mumbling unhappily as she tried channel after channel with no luck. Taking a deep breath, Dick minced his way to the end of the steps. His girlfriend's back was half-turned, but he knew better than to think that that meant he was safe. Barbara had, after all, been trained by Batman; no matter how involved she was in a task, unexpected motion in her peripheral field wasn't often ignored. Drawing on every ounce of skill he possessed, he sneaked towards the changing area.
Luck, it seemed, was with him this evening, as the working woman didn't so much as twitch as he ghosted by. Reaching his destination was hardly the end of his troubles, however. He didn't dare turn on the lights lest he give himself away, so he was forced to navigate the room in complete blackness. Slow, careful steps and a long ago memorized mental map guided him around the knee-level benches to where his costume hung in lonely solitude. The familiar clasps and zippers were no problem despite the darkness, but tugging the tight fabric over his swollen shoulder nearly left him in tears. Knowing there was no way he could make it to the medical bay without being seen, he dipped into his tiny first aid kit. All he had was ibuprofen, but it would have to be enough.
Leaving the compression bandage around his wrist made the joint stiff enough that he thought he could dare to swing from it. With that settled, he pressed his mask into place and gazed at himself in the mirror. When he stood still it was impossible to tell that he wasn't in top form, and that was exactly the illusion he needed tonight. Watch out, Gotham, he smirked at himself. Nightwing's back.
He had to hurry if he wanted to catch his ride, and it was a great relief when he emerged from the changing area to find Barbara still fiddling with the radio. Following the curved wall that formed the perimeter of the main chamber, he slipped past her once more. Upon reaching the relative safety of the hallway that led to the garage, he sped up. Only when he was halfway down the corridor did he stop, listen intently, and then step backwards.
A narrow fissure, part of the cave system's natural physiology, swallowed him up in an intimate embrace. Spurs of rock shoved agonizingly into his wounded shoulder, forcing him to bite his lip, but he persevered. Alfred's rapid footsteps were drawing closer, and it was imperative that he make no sound. If anyone knew the normal noises of the underground lair better than Batman, it was the butler; the faintest groan or wheeze might alert him, and then all would be lost.
As if holding his pain in wasn't enough, the walls of Earth he'd wedged himself between were drastically constricting his breathing. He could manage short, shallow inhalations, but those weren't enough to keep the oxygen-hungry beast in his chest appeased for long. His fingers curled helplessly against the slab behind him as the butler paused just beyond his hiding place. Go! he begged silently. In another ten seconds, fifteen at the most, he would have to emerge and replenish his body's gas supply, whether Alfred was still standing there or not. Go, damn it!
After what felt like minutes but couldn't have been more than the space of two or three blinks the footsteps continued on their way. Nightwing held out for as long as he could, eager to let the older man put some distance between them, and then shoved himself back into the open air with his last reserves of strength. For a moment he could do nothing but kneel and draw massive, near-silent gasps. His heart was pounding – harder and faster, he thought, than it really should have been – but he wrote it off as a mixture of stress and lack of sleep. He could keep going, he told himself as he stumbled to his feet. He had to keep going.
Time was now more of the essence than ever. Once Alfred reached the main cave's computers he would send the Batmobile off to Gotham on autopilot, and Nightwing needed to be inside it when that happened. Taking any other vehicle at any other time would send up security flags that were sure to be noticed, and he didn't have the strength for a race to the end of the tunnel. It had to be the Batmobile, and it had to be now.
The car's dashboard lit up as he fell into the passenger seat. An instant later the faintest of trembles told him that the engine had caught. He tugged his door gently closed just as the wheels began to turn, whisking him away from the house and towards the city. In less than a minute he had passed through the hologram that guarded the tunnel's entrance, and he was in the clear.
Giving a shuddery sigh, he tilted his seat back. Raising two fingers to his throat, he waited for his pulse to calm to a more acceptable level. When it had receded, he sighed again and closed his eyes. It wouldn't hurt anything if he took a little nap between here and Gotham, he decided. There was nothing else he could do to make the trip go faster, at least not unless he wanted to give himself away to Alfred and Barbara. Settling deeper into his familiar cradle, he gave his last conscious thoughts over to Jason. I'm coming, little brother. Please, please don't kill the Joker before I get to you, and don't get yourself killed, either. Just stay safe until I see you, please.
I can't lose you again...