DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.
Author Comment: This was the third Dick Grayson story I ever wrote. Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)
PLEASE NOTE: I have no medical background so their are likely to be gross inaccuracies. I hope you can enjoy my story in spite of this.
Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much. I'm in your debt.
The Batmobile rocketed its way across town, the driver's mouth set in a deep frown as he reflected on what the hired assassin had told him. "He knew I was going to shoot. He jumped in front of Bruce Wayne. Saved his life. Positioned himself so I couldn't get a bullet past him... He moved so quickly. I've never seen anyone move like that."
Nightwing had literally used his body as a shield. What the hell had he been thinking?! Why hadn't he yelled out - the noise from the fireworks and music, Batman realized. It didn't excuse Nightwing's recklessness, though. He'd always been reckless. He never took the correct precautions. He... Batman swallowed and released his breath slowly. Even as a child, Dick had always disregarded his own safety when it came to protecting his partner. Batman had never been able to train that out of him. The Dark Knight shook his head... and the burning in his chest grew.
With great effort, Batman tried to assure himself that it was simply anger plaguing him, but the feeling was fast becoming unbearable and impossible to ignore. The crimefighter cursed. He was being distracted from his mission. He honestly believed he was being stupid and stupidity was not something that usually afflicted him.
Again, Batman set about convincing himself that everything was fine. Nightwing had taken a single bullet to the back, high on the right side. It would have missed his spine and his heart and was too high to have hit his liver, kidneys or spleen. It may have nicked a lung. Alfred was with him. He'd be in hospital now and Leslie would have fixed everything the way she always did. Nothing was wrong... and yet the burning refused to ease.
Unexpectedly, the image of Nightwing lying on the stage popped into Batman's mind unannounced and it was then that Batman realized his error. Nightwing had not been his saviour. Nightwing hadn't been at the party. Somehow, Bruce had convinced himself that his partner had been doing his duty, but that wasn't correct either. In battle, Batman could expect Nightwing to risk his life if necessary, but that hadn't been the case. Dick had leapt in front of him. It was Dick who had been shot.
Batman released a shaking breath. "Stupid kid."... and the burning intensified, clutching at his soul. He reached down for his communicator and fingered it, but withdrew his hand.
I'm okay. Get him.
There hadn't been words, but that had been the message as clear as if Dick had shouted it. 'Him' was the person behind all of this and catching that person was what Batman was determined to do while the trail was still fresh. Then he could go to the hospital and put Dick's mind at rest.
Despite this logical reasoning, Bruce couldn't dismiss the strange heaviness in his chest.
"What the hell were you thinking?! Dammit, Dick!
VVVVVVVVVV
"Bruce?" Dick's face clouded with concentration.
"I beg your pardon?" the oarsman asked.
"I thought that I heard..."
"No, you can not hear him here. You can see his image, but not hear him."
Dick searched for Bruce on the bank, but he was being masked by the collection of other people.
VVVVVVVVVV
Alfred left Dick's side reluctantly to go out into the corridor to make a number of necessary phone calls. First, he tried Bruce's communicator and wasn't surprised to find it still switched off. Then, he dialled Barbara's number.
"Miss Barbara?"
"Alfred." Her voice was strained, her sniffling advertising the fact that she had been crying. "I saw it on the news. An attempt on Bruce's life but some stranger stepped in front of him." Barbara paused, her voice breaking. "It was Dick, wasn't it? He was there. It was Dick?"
"Yes."
"He's alright though, isn't he?" she begged.
Alfred considered his answer carefully and decided that the truth was the only course open to him. "I'm afraid not. He is in intensive care."
"Intensive care! Okay... umm... okay. I'm almost there. I left as soon as I saw the news. I knew it was him. Is Bruce with him?"
"No. Master Bruce has gone after the shooter. I haven't been able to contact him since." That was a growing concern.
"Yeah... okay... ummm... oh, God, Alfred." Barbara began to sob.
"Calm down, my dear. It is important that you arrive here in one piece. How long?"
"Not long. I'm doing double the legal limit."
"You must slow down, my dear. I don't want to be standing next to your bed as well."
vvvvvvvvvv
The mist that had been swirling around the boat suddenly began to lift. "What's happening?" Dick demanded.
"We are over halfway. Relax, you're almost there."
Dick shot a look back at his companions. At Leslie, Alfred and Tim who were reaching out to him. To Barbara a pace behind them. And to Bruce whom he couldn't see, but who he knew was there.
"They will learn to cope with your loss. You must try to relax, Dick. In a little while you will be with those you love."
VVVVVVVVVV
Barbara reached out, picked up Dick's hand and drew it to her cheek. Her face was puffy from crying, her tears still trailing down her face. Alfred moved across and put his arm around her.
"Oh, Alfred. I..." Again she broke down.
"Talk to him," Leslie encouraged. "Some say that the unconscious are aware of those around them. Talk to him, Barbara. He may hear you."
Barbara swallowed. "Now, listen to me, Short Pants. I know you and I used to do the 'anything you can do I can do better' thing, but this is just taking it a bit far. You think you're winning by getting shot worse than I did?"
Alfred squeezed her shoulder. "I'm afraid Miss Barbara is going to win this round if you don't wake up shortly, Master Dick. She regained consciousness quite quickly, if I remember correctly."
"That's right, I did."
"Can't let Barb beat you, Dick," Tim added. All waited for some sign that Dick had heard them. His bandaged chest continued to rise and fall rhythmically. His brain activity that was being monitored showed no sign of change.
"Come on, Dick," Barbara whispered, lowering his arm back to the bed and reaching up to place her hand on the side of his ashen face. She could barely reach. Tim moved forward, lifted Barbara into his failsafe arms and stepped up to the bed so that she was close to Dick. "You and I have so much living we need to share. You said you were going to take me back to the circus so we could soar through the air together again, like we used to. I want to do that with you. Please... please, Dick." Her resolve crumbled. "Don't... leave... me," she wept.
VVVVVVVVVV
"Barb," Dick acknowledged quietly. The woman had just moved forward to join the others at the water's edge.
"Mmm. An interesting one. Her reaction I cannot foresee. You have touched her in a way she never predicted. Her feelings for you run very deep, but she is afraid."
"I know, but I don't understand why."
"That wheelchair..."
"Doesn't mean a damn thing! I don't care about it. She's still Babs to me."
The oarsman smiled. "Your feelings for her appear to run just as deep... Look."
Dick glanced at the other bank. There was a young man standing with his parents. "Jason?"
"He is waiting for you. He has a lot he needs to tell you."
Dick stared at the youth. He could see his face quite clearly. Jason looked serious, but he waved. Dick's parents were also waving and reaching out toward him.
"It will be easier if you focus on them from now on. You have left your life behind. Focus on your eternity with them now."
VVVVVVVVVV
Batman entered the Buster and Oyster through the back entrance. It was an upmarket bar for the rich and unscrupulous. Neon pink and green lights flashed though the noisy room as a loud jukebox belted out some trash.
As Batman walked in, half of the well-dressed clientele, who were flashing cash like candy, rose to their feet and discreetly made their exit.
"I'm looking for Mr. Smith," Batman growled. "He hired a sniper to assassinate Bruce Wayne. I'd like to discuss his reasons with him."
The barman eyed Batman carefully, slowly edging toward an exit. Everyone else remained still, too scared or too fascinated to move. Batman scanned the room, his gaze stopping on one man who was shaking vigorously. He made his way over with long, easy strides. As he did so, all those he passed dashed from the room, deciding morbid fascination wasn't as important as saving their own skins.
"Something on your conscience? Where can I find Mr. Smith?"
"I don't know. I've never heard of him." The man stuttered badly, his eyes wide like saucers.
"So why do you look like you're about to shit yourself?" a man to Batman's left asked. The Dark Knight turned towards the speaker as fifteen men filed in through the two entrances to the bar. "Everyone out. I have a message for Night Rat from Mr. Smith."
In less than five seconds, Batman and the sixteen men were the only people remaining. The speaker smiled, the neon lights reflecting off his yellowed teeth. "Mr. Smith said to tell you to mind your own business. This is between him and Bruce Wayne."
"It became my business when an innocent man got shot."
"He should have minded his business too, then, shouldn't he?"
Batman watched as the group of well-muscled thugs slowly spread out. They were armed with iron bars and chains.
"So, what are you?" the Dark Knight demanded. "Rent-a-twit?" Batman froze as he said the words. They weren't his own. They were the exact words Nightwing had said to a group like this the last time he and Batman had fought together almost six months earlier. All of the sudden, Bruce was consumed by the dreadful feeling of loss. His heart ached, the burning in his chest igniting. Before he could reflect on what all of this meant, the mob attacked.
VVVVVVVVVV
Bruce? BRUCE?" Dick jumped to his feet again.
"Sit down!"
Somehow Dick knew something was wrong. He could feel it and if there was one thing that Dick had learned in his lifetime, it was to listen to his instincts - and at the moment they were screaming at him.
"Bruce's in trouble."
"He can handle it," the oarsman stated confidently.
Dick stared across at the bank. The faces of his friends had become indistinct. He could see their outlines, their outstretched arms, but he could no longer read their expressions. Behind those at the water's edge was Bruce. Dick's eyes narrowed. He concentrated. Bruce's face came into focus. Unlike the others, whose faces had been shocked and worried, Bruce's face was blank.
"What's wrong with him?!" Dick yelled, turning to the oarsman.
"You and he share a remarkable relationship if you can see him from this distance."
"What's wrong with him?!" Dick repeated.
"Nothing."
Dick reached across and grabbed the elderly man. "I want the truth. Why isn't he moving? Why isn't he standing with the others?!"
The oarsman's face remained calm. "Sit down, Dick; your journey is almost over."
"He doesn't know, does he? He's out looking for who's behind the assassination attempt," Dick suddenly realized. "Bruce doesn't know that I'm..."
"Dying. You're right. He doesn't know yet."
"Why?"
The oarsman wriggled free. Strangely, the boat was still moving toward the other bank even though the oarsman wasn't rowing.
"WHY hasn't anyone told him?... He's turned his communicator off," Dick realized. "He's shutting everything out."
"This is not something he is prepared to face."
"Dammit, Bruce."
VVVVVVVVVV
"Dick?" Momentarily distracted but the sudden awareness of his former ward, Bruce walked directly into a punch. He went down under a mass of bodies as the thugs dived on top of him. Too stunned by the clarity of the awareness to fight back, Batman accepted his fate.
VVVVVVVVVV
Dick watched as Bruce was knocked backwards by invisible hands. "What's going on?"
"He is being attacked. But don't worry. He is more than capable of protecting himself. Sit down, Dick. It won't be long until you are on the other side. There is no pain there, I promise you. Look at your mother. She is crying tears of joy."
Dick obeyed the instruction. His mother's face was so clear and so were the other faces on the bank. The young couple was now in focus. Dick would recognize them anywhere. How many times had he seen Bruce gazing at their portrait in the main hall? Martha and Thomas Wayne were smiling at him, but their eyes echoed great pain. Tim's mother's did also. Jason looked concerned.
"I've got to go back," Dick whispered.
The oarsman stared up at him and shook his head. "No, son, you must sit down and relax."
"You don't understand. I've got to go back. He needs me. They all do. And... I need them." It was a revelation for Dick. He really did need them - every one of them.
"I'm sorry, son, it's too late. Once we passed halfway, there was no turning back."
"WHAT?! I've got to go back! Turn this boat around! Now!!"
"It is out of my hands. See," the oarsman pointed to the still oars. He no longer needed to propel the boat. It was being drawn to the other side.
"I've got to get back. You've got to help me!"
"There is no way back."
Dick stared at the oarsman. He started to open his mouth when the peaceful silence was shattered by a booming noise. The boat began rocking from side to side as the water churned around them.
"Sit down."
"What's going on?" Dick stared back at his friends. All but Leslie were stepping back from the water's edge. "Something's happened?"
The oarsman nodded. "I'm afraid so."
VVVVVVVVVV
The silent hospital ward resounded with a booming alarm. Leslie leaped toward her patient, her face shadowed with distress.
"Step back from him!" she shouted.
"Leslie?" three desperate voices cried as one.
© June 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.