A/N: As a reminder, italics are usually used as thoughts to oneself, but are sometimes used for emphasis. Also, "Work in Progress" is complete (yes, that's the actual title). Thanks for reading! :)


Normally, Nightwing wouldn't run from a fight. But Ra's al Ghul held the higher ground, and Nightwing was barely able to hold him off when they were even. Those swords were long and deadly and much more effective than Nightwing's escrima sticks. Falling off a short cliff while avoiding those swords was not unexpected. At least he hadn't received a major injury from the ten-foot drop.

"Let's talk, Nightwing."

The man was searching for him, but the hero remained silent. He was hidden in the blackest corner of a dark cave. It was stupid for the villain to put his headquarters on a tall mountain that had hundreds of caves where someone could easily hide. But, Nightwing supposed, it was probably useful for hiding dead bodies or other such things.

Nightwing was grateful for the many nights he had spent on stakeouts, because not moving for over an hour was something he had been trained to do. He was going to be a little stiff, but nothing he couldn't handle.

"You will regret this."

The man's voice was dripping with disdain. Nightwing internally growled, but forced himself to remain where he was instead of going to meet the villain head-on.

"Either you come out and join me, or you don't come out. The choice is yours."

What are you going to do, bring down the entire mountain? There are too many caves for you to guess my location, and you won't risk losing your headquarters.

"I hope you can hear me, Nightwing, because my voice is about to be the last one you will ever hear. You have five seconds to bring yourself out of whatever hole you have crawled into. Four…three…two…"

Instead of the number one, Nightwing heard the soft grumble that always preceded an explosion. He immediately tucked himself into a ball and covered his head with his arms. It was probably a trick, because only an idiot would explode a mountain that he himself was standing on. Ra's al Ghul was not an idiot. However, it was better to be safe than sorry, so Nightwing huddled into himself and waited.

He didn't have to wait long, but the explosion was not what the hero expected. Instead of rocks tumbling down a broken mountain, large masses of snow began flying past his hiding place. Ra's had started an avalanche, an effective explosion that wouldn't bring down the entire mountain.

Nightwing watched the entrance to his cave disappear as a mound of snow wedged itself inside his hiding place. Chunks rolled down the short hill, one coming to rest at his right foot.

I'm sure there's another exit somewhere.

The cave was full of tunnels, all Nightwing had to do was find the right one. It was going to take a while, but eventually he would find it. Because there was no way he could dig himself out of a mound of snow, not even if he used his escrima sticks. He thought about trying, but realized it would be a waste of energy that he needed to conserve.

Unfortunately, the cave was now darker than it had been before. Nightwing waited for his eyes to adjust, but even after counting to sixty he could only see a soft outline of his hand when he put it directly in front of his face. He closed his eyes and pictured the interior: three tunnels. The right tunnel – the one he was closest to – was as good a place to start as any, so Nightwing re-opened his eyes and sheathed one escrima stick. Putting the other out in front of him, the young hero put his hand on a wall and began walking.

The tunnel led to what felt like a dead end. His escrima stick suddenly stopped, so he ran his hand along every wall. No opening along the three sides, so he turned around and retraced his steps. At least, he thought he was retracing them; it was too dark to be sure.

The wall disappeared and Nightwing assumed he was back where he had started. A few more long strides forward confirmed that assumption when he ran into something cold and hard. He already knew it was the mound of snow, so he turned around and guided himself to the nearest wall. Traveling along the hard rock, he skipped the first opening he came to – he had already been down the right tunnel – and stopped at the second.

Nightwing paused. Perhaps he should try to dig himself out. The snow was compacted, and probably wouldn't move, but maybe he would be able to at least get some light. Turning around again, he went back the way he had just come until he hit the cold mound. Digging at the top would be best, so he began attempting to climb.

Luckily, the snow was hard enough that he was able to scramble his way up. Unluckily, he didn't stop in time when he got to what he didn't know was the top. His head hit the roof of the cave and Nightwing tumbled back down the short incline, receiving another hit to the head when he landed on the rocky floor.

It took the hero a while to be able to think straight. He didn't know how long – it was hard to keep track of time with no sun or watch or ability to think clearly – but it didn't really matter. When Nightwing finally decided that he could get up without falling right back down, he crawled to the nearest wall and carefully stood up. His sense of direction was completely gone now; he had no idea which tunnel he had already explored.

But, nobody knew where he was. Nightwing knew that for sure, because there were too many caves in the mountain and probably too many snow-blocked entrances for anyone to find him. He was his best chance to escape, so he put his hand on the wall and began traveling around the room again.


Four hours later:

He was not going to give up. He was Nightwing, he had been trained by Batman, and he would eventually find a way to escape. The hero had not encountered the wall of snow for a long time, so he figured he had probably taken a wrong turn – or two or three – and was now deep in the mountain.

The headache had begun a few hours ago, caused by both the strain on his eyes while trying to see in the dark and the two hits to his head. But he was Nightwing, and he was not going to give up.


Five hours earlier:

Ra's al Ghul had left his complex, Batman had watched him climb into the helicopter as an avalanche took down the west side of the mountain. Nightwing was not with him, so he was either dead or dying. A picture of the younger hero appeared in Batman's mind: the one he had seen the last time Nightwing had taken on Ra's. Lying in a pool of his own blood, not breathing or moving or reacting to anything.

"No, he's not dead. He will find a way to send out a signal, or get himself out of whatever predicament he's in because of the avalanche. He is Nightwing, he will find a way."

"You sure about that, B?" Red Hood asked skeptically. "If he was over there…"

"He will be okay, we will find him," Batman growled.

"How?" Red Robin asked.

"There are caves."

"Yeah," Red Hood countered, "but they're all covered with snow now."

Batman had no answer to that observation, because he knew it was true. There would be no way out if Nightwing was trapped in a cave. No light, no sense of direction if he went the wrong way, and the mountain was so big that there were probably no other exits in any of the plethora of caves.

"There's no signal from him."

"Of course there's not, Replacement," Red Hood snapped. "He's in a freaking mountain!"

"Red Hood, left side, Red Robin, right side, I'll go down the middle."

"We're…going down the mountain right after an avalanche?" Red Robin exclaimed.

"How else are we going to find him?" Red Hood grumbled.

"Red Robin, Bat-icepick and Bat-rope," Batman commanded. "Red Ho…"

"I know how to get down a snowy mountain," Red Hood muttered as he stalked away.


Five hours later:

The three heroes had finally reconvened on a ledge about halfway down the mountain. Their muscles were aching, they were all breathing heavily, and they were losing hope. All of their tools had been useless against the dense walls of snow; nobody had been able to dig their way into a cave. Nobody even knew if they had ever been close to a cave.

Finally, Red Robin quietly voiced the thought that was in each hero's mind.

"We're not going to find him."

Nobody answered, because nobody had a response that would refute that statement.

"Maybe, uh, Ra's already, you know, so he's not trapped because, um…"

"Replacement, just say it," Red Hood grumbled. "Maybe Ra's killed him and threw him down the mountain so at least he won't die of starvation or dehydration or whatever."

"Yeah," the youngest hero replied with a sigh.


Nightwing, who had no idea of his location, was currently leaning against a random wall. He was exhausted, and dizzy, and still had the monstrous headache. If he could find the snow again, he would at least be able to hydrate himself. But he didn't know forward from backward, or up from down, or right from left. Perhaps he had even gone all the way to the other side of the mountain.

The hero had no way of knowing how much time had passed. Hours, days, maybe a week, he had no idea. Shifting his thoughts, he wondered if his family had made it out of the avalanche. He was okay with dying, as long as they were all safe. What if they weren't? What if they were all trapped in caves, hopelessly lost and waiting for someone to rescue them? What if they were counting on Nightwing to get them out?

The questions gave him some energy, because there was no way he was going to leave a family member stuck in a dark cave in a large mountain. He had to find a way out, had to make sure everyone was safe. Shoving himself away from the wall, Nightwing strode confidently into the nearest empty space. All he had to do was find the snow and get some water. Then he would dig himself out or die trying.


Two hours later:

Six dead ends, one near-fall-off-a-cliff, ten feelings of wandering in a circle over and over, and one hopeless thought later, Nightwing ran into something hard. Something he could dig his fingers into, he found as he removed his glove and scraped the cold object.

A shout of joy erupted from his chest: he had found the snow! He scratched several handfuls off the mound to hydrate himself. Then, after putting his glove back on, Nightwing began to dig.


"We can't do this all night!" Red Robin exclaimed when, again, the three heroes converged on the ledge and sat down. "We'll freeze!"

Batman had demanded that they continue their exploration of the mountain, and the boys had complied, but the search had been fruitless. The snow was too hard for digging, even with Bat-icepicks.

"B, we gotta go," Red Hood agreed. "We're no use to him if we're frozen."

Batman knew they were right. He didn't want to give up on his son. But he had two other sons to take care of, plus another at home. Nightwing would want him to choose to save three – himself included – at the expense of one. But Nightwing had been his first Robin, the young boy who had wormed his way into Bruce Wayne's heart and lightened up the stoic, dark image of Batman.

"I told him I would always come for him. I told him to never give up on me, and I would never give up on him. I…"

Batman dropped his head and closed his eyes, willing away the moisture he could feel forming on the bottom lids. He was going to have to leave his eldest son, sentencing the young hero to death in an icy cave. If he was even still alive. Perhaps Red Robin had been correct. Perhaps Nightwing had died in a heroic attempt to take down a villain. At least his death would have been quick.

Dying trapped in a mountain, however, would not be quick. Especially since Nightwing wouldn't just give up. He would do whatever he could to get out. But the snow was hard – Batman couldn't even break through it with a Bat-icepick – so there was no way Nightwing would be able to dig himself out.

Batman, however, was underestimating the determination Nightwing had to save his family.


Eighty-seven minutes later:

His gloves had torn apart a while ago, and Nightwing had been scratching at the snow with his bare fingers. The fresh blood would immediately freeze when he drove his hands back into the pile, so he didn't have to worry about bleeding out. Frostbite was a possibility, but if any of his family members were stuck, frostbite didn't matter.

The hero had carved out a hole that was just big enough for his head. His skull was tougher than his hands, so Nightwing was now shoving his head in and out, creating a small pathway that he was hoping would eventually lead outside. All the ramming into hard snow had increased both his headache and dizziness, but that didn't matter, either. The thought that someone could be stuck drove everything else out of his mind. He ignored the pain and continued using himself as a battering ram.

Suddenly, a pile of snow toppled down, trapping his head inside the hole while the rest of his body was out. For a moment, Nightwing panicked. He had been working on digging out for who-knows-how-long, only to bury himself alive?! The moment passed as the hero gathered his thoughts.

Flexibility, not strength, was required for this problem. Nightwing was lying on his stomach, knees bent like a frog and hands planted on the rocky ground. He walked his legs up to his shoulders, put his feet on the mound of snow, and pushed as hard as he could. It only took thirteen seconds of pushing to pop his head out of the makeshift hole. The momentum tossed the hero backwards, causing him to land on his back and hit his head on the rocky ground. Again.

Ignoring the spike of pain, Nightwing rolled onto his stomach and pushed up to his hands and knees. He crawled back to the snow and dug out everything that had just covered the hole he had painstakingly created.

Time for more drastic measures.

Nightwing stood up and moved back several paces.

This is a bad idea.

Disregarding that thought, the hero took two quick strides and threw his entire body weight against the pile. He bounced off, stood up, and did it again. And then again. Three tries later, a small ball of ice tumbled from the top of the mound of snow. Nightwing couldn't see it, but he did hear the quiet 'clink' of ice hitting ice.

And so he continued. After almost twenty minutes, a tiny hole appeared near the top of the ceiling, causing Nightwing to both take a short break and grin.

Let there be light.

Break time was over, so the hero continued throwing himself against the compacted snow.


"Did you hear that?" Red Hood suddenly asked.

Batman opened his mouth to reply but Red Robin answered first.

"It was just some ice, Hood. No need to get all worked up."

"Avalanche ice? No. So what was it from?"

Batman was standing up. He had turned around and was surveying the mountainside. He, too, had heard the soft sound, but nothing unusual was happening. Everything was quiet, and Batman decided it was time for his sons to leave.

"It's getting dark, time to go," the Caped Crusader said gruffly.

Both boys were surprised. Batman was giving up?

"The greater good," Red Robin whispered, and Batman gave a short nod.

"Three for the price of one," Red Hood stated, his voice somehow both strong and full of sorrow.

Again Batman nodded, and the boys stood up.

Two for the price of one.

"Climb," the oldest hero commanded.

Red Robin started up the mountain, as did Red Hood on his right. Batman didn't move.

Red Hood was suddenly beside him again.

"No," he said flatly. "You are not allowed to send us up to safety while you stay here and freeze to death."

"He's my son," Batman whispered.

"So are we," Red Robin almost snapped as he, too, dropped back down. "And so is Robin. We are going together or not at all. You don't get to sacrifice yourself just because Nightwing is…"

The boy paused; he couldn't say it.

"Dead," Red Hood supplied helpfully, his tone rough as he tried in vain to keep the despair out of his voice.

"He's not…" Batman began.

Silence fell between the three. It was time to accept the inevitable. Nightwing was gone, buried somewhere in this forsaken mountain.

"Robin…"

"Is not going after Ra's," Batman instantly finished. "That man is mine."

Suddenly, a clump of snow dropped onto Red Hood's head, which was currently sans helmet. He looked up, expecting to see another avalanche on its way down the mountain. Instead, he saw nothing. A small circle of nothing.

"DIG!" he yelled as he began kicking at the snow right in front of them.

Batman and Red Robin joined in, using whatever they had to try to get the snow to move. Another small clump fell down, and the three heroes felt the pile of ice shake.

"Some…one is on the other side!" Red Robin exclaimed. "That has to be the reason!"

"Great job, Captain Obvious," Red Hood grunted as he began pounding the snow with his helmet.

Six minutes later, a large chunk of snow almost shoved Red Robin off the ledge as it flew out toward the heroes. Batman snatched him out of the air just as his second foot slipped off the edge. Red Robin was regaining his balance when another blast burst out of the snow. A shadow exploded out of what they could now see was a cave, a shadow that had the exact shape and build of a certain hero.

"Nightwing!" Red Robin exclaimed as the shadow stumbled toward the edge of the cliff.

Batman again snatched one of his sons out of the air, although this one was much heavier than the last. Red Hood grabbed Nightwing's other arm and they yanked him to safety, where he landed on his right side. Three heroes started to kneel but the fourth hero abruptly forced himself up to standing. That's when they got their first good look at him.

Nightwing's head was a mess of blood, ice, and dirty snow. He was favoring his right side, almost completely balanced on just his left leg. His hands were bloody, although Batman couldn't tell if it was from holding his head or a different injury.

"Look at me," the Caped Crusader demanded.

Everyone except Nightwing immediately looked at Batman. Nightwing was glancing around as if trying to find the source of the voice.

"Concussion," Red Robin stated softly.

"Really, Replacement, you have to think of better ways to state the obvious," Red Hood said with a roll of his eyes.

Batman gently grabbed Nightwing's head and turned it so he was looking straight into his son's eyes.

"Look at me, Nightwing."

Light-blue finally connected with dark-blue, and Batman breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Nightwing's eyes were clear, although the pupils were dilated, and he was able to focus on Batman for the entire ten seconds that the Caped Crusader silently counted.

"Where are they?" the younger hero demanded, his voice slightly hysterical. "Are they stuck, trapped, gone, where?!"

"Everyone's fine, chum," Batman replied, taking his hands of the hero's face. "Hood, Red, come into his line of sight."

Batman had just used nicknames, leaving both boys stunned but obedient. They were instantly on either side of him.

"Robin?" Nightwing asked, concern filling his tone.

"At home," Red Robin replied. "Safe," he added.

"Nobody's trapped," Nightwing stated, still not sure.

"No, you were the only one," Red Hood stated.

Nightwing grinned slightly and Batman could see the tense body relax just a little bit.

"How did you.."

"We couldn't even…"

Nightwing held up his left hand, asking for silence. Batman grabbed the appendage and examined it closely.

"You scratched and clawed your way through," he commented.

"Yeah," Nightwing admitted, "and some other stuff. Can we…"

"Yes," Batman interrupted. "We're going home now, you're taking a shower and a nap, then you'll tell us everything. Is that clear?"

Nightwing could have said something about the fact that he didn't live in Wayne Manor, and neither Batman nor Bruce Wayne could tell him what to do anymore. But he was exhausted, and in pain, and everything Batman had just said sounded really good to him right now.

"Yeah," he agreed quietly, "let's go home."

THE END