It was unfortunate, Nightwing mused as the criminal's knife slid into his side, that there were seven men to fight before he could even think about helping Batman. The pain in his torso momentarily stunned him, and the goon punched the hero in the face.

That pain revived his senses, and Nightwing punched back. His hit was much stronger, and the goon fell to the ground. Adrenaline rushed in when another man jumped in front of him, and the chemical overcame the feeling of a knife being yanked out of his torso as the first man collapsed. Well, not entirely overcame it, but enough that Nightwing could ignore it for now. There were more important things to do.

Ducking away from the jab coming from a man to his left, Nightwing swung one of his escrima sticks in a circle, taking out three men at once. Simultaneously, he pressed his other hand against his side, hoping to at least slow down the blood he could feel sliding down his leg.

Four down, three to go.

The thought encouraged him. He executed a dive roll to his left, effectively avoiding the roundhouse kick from goon number five. Unfortunately, that led him straight into the fist of a man who had just appeared from the shadows. A strong fist that landed squarely on his chest as he stood up. Nightwing recognized the tell-tale 'crack', but it was another thing he could ignore for now.

As he retaliated against the man in front of him, the hero wondered why he hadn't seen the goon. Usually, he was much more observant than he had been at this moment. Maybe because he was feeling slightly dizzy, or maybe it was the fact that the world was more gray than usual.

That thought distracted him, and the man he had rolled away from suddenly kicked Nightwing in the lower back. Luckily, the hit missed his kidney, merely shoving him forward instead of causing him to drop to the ground. It did, however, remind him of the hole in his side. The one he should be trying to cover up, but doing that was impossible at the moment.

With a quiet grunt of pain, Nightwing refocused on the man in front of him. He took another hit to the chest, on purpose this time. It allowed him to grab the goon's arm, twist it behind his back, and deliver a knock-out blow to the side of his head.

Nightwing used the momentum of the twist to swing himself around. As the unconscious man dropped to the ground, the hero delivered a nose-shattering kick to the face of the man behind him. That goon also fell to the ground, conscious but in too much pain to continue the fight.

"One more," the hero muttered.

Stay awake.

The 'one more' was short, but at least fifty pounds bigger than Nightwing. It was pure muscle, and the young man inaudibly groaned. At least this man was the last one he had to get through before continuing his search for Batman.

Big-muscled usually meant slow, slower than Nightwing, anyway. The hero swayed, saw double for a moment, and wanted to follow the dark spots that were beckoning him to join the unconscious men on the floor. But, Batman needed him, and Nightwing was not going to disappoint him.

Muscle man advanced. Nightwing could feel the fact that he wouldn't be fast enough, so he went low. Shoving his shoulder into the big man's knees, he heard the 'snap' of a tendon being torn apart and the grunt of the goon as he stumbled backwards. Standing up, Nightwing finished the criminal with a swift kick to the chest, causing him to join his companions on the ground.

The hero twirled his escrima stick in his hand before sheathing it behind his back. He carefully stepped over the trail of bodies as he headed for the open doorway across the room. Was Batman alive and fighting, or captured and unconscious, or taking a break while waiting for the younger hero to join him? Nightwing received his answer when he walked into the room.


Batman could hear the sounds of flesh pounding against bone and the grunts of men in pain. Hopefully, Nightwing wasn't the source of the latter sound. The older hero was too busy fighting his own group of men to even think about helping. Besides, his partner could take care of himself.

A big goon got a lucky punch in, and Batman dropped to the ground. The world began swirling around him, but he was able to roll to his left just before a fist landed where his head had just been. Slowly, the Caped Crusader stood up as the criminal turned around. He was tall, but not muscular. Batman should have been able to finish him quickly, but that lucky jab had dulled his reaction time.

Batman dodged the uppercut, but wasn't quick enough to get out of the way of the follow-through to his jaw. He dropped to his hands and knees, breathing heavily and staring at black holes that were growing bigger at an alarming rate. Out of the corner of his eye, the hero saw the goon lift his foot, but he was too dazed to do anything about it.

Suddenly the man was on the floor, stunned but not unconscious.

"Come on, Batman, we have to get out of here. There are more coming, and…" Nightwing paused, then decided to omit his own status, "…you're in no condition to fight. Can you stand up?"

What he doesn't know won't hurt him. Just stay awake, it can wait.

Strong arms slid under Batman's armpits and pulled him up. Nightwing wrapped one of the older hero's arms around his own shoulders and slid an arm around Batman's waist.

"Walk," the younger hero commanded, and Batman obeyed.

The world was still swirling, and the edges of his vision were blurry, but Batman heard the urgency in his partner's voice. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, failing to notice the frequent stops and slight breathlessness of the person supporting him.

Nightwing was still dizzy, and the black spots were still beckoning to him. But there were more goons coming and, although he hated to run from a fight, the hero knew neither of them would make it out of this one if it continued. So he pushed on, forcing himself to ignore the blood he could hear dripping onto the floor and refusing to give into the ever-growing and darkening spots.

The Batmobile was parked three blocks away, but Nightwing's motorcycle was around the corner. Batman was supporting most of his own weight now, and the world was no longer spinning for him. No goons appeared on the way and, three minutes later, they were standing next to the blue-and-black vehicle.

"We can't both…ride my bike," Nightwing commented, attempting to keep the pain out of his voice.

"I'll walk," Batman responded. "Meet you at the Batcave."

Without waiting for an answer, the Caped Crusader removed himself from Nightwing's grasp and strode away, only slightly swaying at random times. A thought came to him, and he turned around.

"Nightwing, are you injured? Can you ride?"

"I'm good," the younger hero responded. "Just gonna rest for a minute – you're kind of heavy," he finished with a slight grin.

"You're hurt," Batman stated, already knowing that he was correct because Nightwing would never admit to something being heavy.

Nightwing didn't answer, but the older hero saw the boy press his hand tightly against his waist. Changing his mind, Batman walked back to his partner, arriving just as Nightwing sagged against the wall.

"Move your hand," Batman commanded.

Nightwing lifted the hand that wasn't pressed against his side and wiggled his fingers.

"Don't be an idiot," the older man snapped. "You're losing blood, this is not a time for jokes."

Pushing Nightwing's hand away from his waist, Batman crouched down and examined the wound. It was deep and jagged, no doubt from a serrated knife, and blood was continually sliding out of the hole.

"Dang it, Nightwing, why do you always feel like you have to hide your injuries?"

Batman snatched some Bat-gauze out of his utility belt and pressed it hard against his partner's side.

"You…were pretty out of it," the younger man replied with a quiet gasp. "Had to, uh, get you out."

"Were you actually going to ride back to the Batcave in this condition?!"

"No, was gonna rest, stop bleeding."

"Stay here, chum, I'm going to get the Batmobile and come back for you. Don't pass out; stay awake for me."

"Yeah," Nightwing breathed as he closed his eyes.

"NIGHTWING!" Batman shouted, causing the light-blue circles to instantly reappear. "Keep your eyes open."

"Open, yep, got it."

Batman now had a pounding headache, but his vision was no longer blurry. He sprinted the three blocks, climbed into the Batmobile, and flew back to where he had left his son. Nightwing was sitting down, leaning against the wall with his head tilted back.

The Caped Crusader jumped out of the vehicle, pulled the boy to his feet, and practically carried him to the Batmobile.

"Nightwing, no matter what condition I'm in, never hide your injuries," he commanded as he turned the vehicle around and began the drive to the Batcave. "If I had just left you there, you probably would have passed out before you could even get on your motorcycle. Which means you would have bled out in that dark corner of Crime Alley, or easily been captured by some of those extra goons we left behind."

"Had to…get you, uh, out," Nightwing mumbled. "No choice."

"There is always a choice!" Batman exclaimed angrily, pounding the steering wheel with one hand. "Instead of taking almost my entire body weight onto yourself, making you work harder and lose blood faster, you could have said 'hey, Batman, I'm about to pass out from a knife wound so can you help me get us out of here'. That is a much better option than the one you chose. You really do have no sense of self-preservation," he finished with a frustrated sigh.

"Family first, can't lose you," the younger hero whispered.

"Dang it, Nightwing, have you ever stopped to consider that you are part of my family?! You can't lose me? Well, I can't lose you, either! So stop ignoring your body when it's telling you to slow down, especially when you've just been STABBED!"

Nightwing grunted in response. Shaking his head, Batman sped up. He needed both Alfred's medical knowledge and wise advice. Someday, hopefully, one of them would get Nightwing to understand that he was just as important to them as they were to him. Batman secretly hoped it would be himself, but if Alfred did it first he really wouldn't mind. At least Nightwing – Dick – would finally understand. Someday….

THE END