Disclaimer and notes in part one.

Author's Notes: What can I say? I'm sorry, first of all. Real life hit me hard in December and I thought that going back to school would make things better, but really made things worse. So, from there, time just flew as I got things in order and so on. Needless to say, nearly 6 months late I'm back. I hope that people are still around to read this. I take off for Boston in a week and a half, so there will be a hiatus then, but this should be finished before the end of August. This time for real. Anyhow…

Masquerade

Part five

It was worst twenty-four hours that Jack had ever experienced. When his son had been missing during the Gotham Quake, it was a different kind of terror that took hold of him. Then Jack hadn't known where his son was, what he was doing, or if he would ever seen him again. It was the unknowing aspect that caused Jack so much grief. But now, he knew exactly where Tim was. Well, figuratively speaking he did. Tim was in the hands of his bookie more or less. Everything was out of the older man's hands and all he could do was sit and watch as Bruce and his little soldiers looked for clues to his son's whereabouts.

Jack spent the last twenty-four hours feeling guilt consume him. This entire incident was his fault; for once any problems within the family he couldn't attempt to put on Tim's shoulders. He still couldn't get Dana's shocked and hurt face out of his memory. They were both holding on by a thin thread; somehow their love proving stronger than all the secrets that had been hidden between their family. Once this incident was over, Jack was certain he would look at Dana with new eyes. The strength she possessed was simply amazing.

And then there had been her near adoration that Dana exhibited when Jack told her
about Tim's nightly activities. There was part of the older man that felt bad for spilling his son's secret so easily, but, he knew, it had to be done. He needed Dana now and, afterwards, he knew Tim would need her too. She had responded so well to the news that Robin lived under their house for years that Jack felt his anger seemed misplaced when he spoke with her about all the lies that Tim had told; all the secrets he had kept. Dana smiled, put a hand on his cheek and simply said, "your heart is in the right place, your head simply is not."

Jack hadn't known what to do with that cryptic message so he kissed his wife and they held each other in silence.

Regardless of this precise moment amidst the darkness, Jack didn't feel any better about the current situation. Of course he knew, the Bat-People had to keep a low profile, but didn't he deserve an update? He hadn't heard anything since he left the Manor and was growing more worried by the moment. Gardenee said forty-eight hours and already half of that was gone. Jack knew the stories of Batman and, from what he had also read in Tim's diary, Bruce was good. The best really. And although Jack had no experience of how good his son was as Robin, he'd heard just as many stories about the Boy Wonder of Gotham.

In truth, Jack, since the whole Robin incident, made a special point to ignore anything he heard about Robin or remembered. Some part of his brain worked to tune out Robin information; he didn't want to hear about all the crazies his son faced. But now that his son's well being was in the hands of those he once called friends and mentors, Jack couldn't help but wonder how good his son really was.

What had his son been capable of?

The question swarmed in his mind and he was slowly walking towards his computer just as the phone rang.

Rushing over to it, Jack breathlessly answered. "Hello?"

"I've received no word about my money. Where is it and when will I have it?"

Jack felt his stomach clench once again with innate fear. "I'm working on it," he managed to sputter out.

"Twenty-four hours left. Then the kid is on my turf."

The line went dead.

Jack carefully put the phone back in its cradle and sank to the floor. He wasn't sure how much more he could take. He needed to have his son found. He needed to know he was safe, because if he wasn't, Jack could never forgive himself.

…….

Tim thankfully passed out not long after the brutal assault on his leg. Mic and Hal left after the incident, being unable to handle the young man's weak and painful struggles against the pain. Neither knew the damage that had truly been done and, for the first time, they had doubts. They knew the Mike wouldn't be that upset so long as the kid lived, after all this was business, but neither of the bodyguards were prepared for the impact their actions would have on themselves. Being in the bookie business meant you had to, literally, break a lot of knees, but never had such an attack been done on a mere child. More unnerving however, had been the kid's ability to suppress his pain; more so than most of the grown men they'd hurt even less.

By the time Tim grew fully conscious, he wished he hadn't. There'd been many times in his career as Robin that he felt indescribable pain and wished for nothing more than to fad into oblivion. This, however, topped them all. As soon as Tim's senses came back to him, he was met by sheer agony pulsating in his leg. The teenager's first response was to jerk away in an attempt to get away from the pain. That resulted in a way of nausea as he jerked unforgivably on his leg. Tears, once again, came unbidden to his eyes, but he held them back. He was Robin, the Boy Wonder. Or at least he had been.
At any rate, he could push the pain away; he could center himself and forget about the searing agony that now was his leg.

Once Tim had the pain under as much control as possible, enough that he could think somewhat straight, the young man realized that he was in terrible trouble. Although, he hadn't watched the attack on his leg, he knew the damage that was done to his kneecap or at least very close to there. Most of the time, due to the intensity of the hit and the shattering of the bone, any sort of damage like his leg was permanent.

Right now, Tim knew he needed help and he needed it now. Shifting as carefully as he could, Tim craned his neck up as much as possible in an attempt to look at his leg. As soon as he had done so, he wished he hadn't. Some point after he passed out, the henchmen removed his jeans leaving him lying in only his boxers and t-shirt. The lack of modesty didn't bother him, but the disfigured, swollen, and mostly bruised leg did.

It was bad. Really bad.

Tim allowed his head to fall back on the bed and he tugged lightly on the bonds that still held his hands. But, there was no strength behind his pulls; his energy having been sapped and, what hadn't been, was quickly leaving him in a haze of pain. Tim felt his breathing start to speed up as the first signs of panic set in. The quickening pulse-rate did nothing to neither calm him nor settle the pain. He was on the verge of a full-fledged panic attack.

Suddenly, as he struggled for air, the door to the room opened. Tim's panic now became full-fledged as he wondered what these men would do to him now.

"What- what are you going to do?" Tim asked, his voice cracking.

Hal simply looked at the prone figure and walked closer to the bed. Tim wanted to close his eyes, but he couldn't removed his eyes from his captor. Without a word, Hal moved to the young boy's injured leg. The man cut the bond and Tim's leg fell slightly to the bed. The young man bit his lip, but a moan of pain still escaped and tears gathered in the corners on his eyes. Hal watched all this as impassively as possible as he cut the other leg's bond. As quickly as he could, the bodyguard left.

Whatever peace Tim had been able to obtain with his leg, was once again shattered.
With a frustrated and agonizing groan, Tim pulled wildly on the bonds that held his hands. The tears he'd been able to hold back all this time, now rolled freely down his face as the pain and frustration increased. Finally, the young man was exhausted and lapsed into unconsciousness again, with tears still falling on his cheeks.

……

While Tim had the worst last twenty-four hours that he remembered, Bruce and Dick were working with Barbara attempting to track him. Tim's watch had been a dead-end since it was removed from the young man and given to the Drakes as a sign their son was held captive. After that, Bruce worked another aspect; this one more head-on.

As Batman, Bruce had a few dealings with Mike Gardenee and missing persons, but Gardenee had yet to make a real impression on the crime scene in Gotham. In truth, Gardenee was one of the lesser-known bookies that existed in the city. Of course, that didn't mean that he didn't work like the other, more gruesome bookies. The few dealing that Batman had with him found that Gardenee was just a brutal to those who crossed him as the bosses in the heart of Gotham.

It was because of this that Bruce wanted to make certain he found Tim as soon as possible. Over a hundred grand debt to any bookie was obscene and Gardenee said Jack had forty-eight hours, after that it would be a free-for-all. The only problem was that Bruce still had to be Batman, on top of being Wayne, and crime didn't stop for one missing teenager. The last twenty-four hours had produced few results, which didn't surprise Bruce all that much. Gotham was a large city, Gardenee was a cautious man, and Tim was only one small missing kid. Even with Dick and Barbara on the case,
Bruce knew forty-eight hours would be a rush to find Tim. At least on their own.

Bruce had faith that Tim was working just as hard on his end of things to get home. Of
course, he also knew that the young man had to keep a low profile and work as Tim Drake not Robin. But still, Tim was effective undercover and, so long as nothing kept him from freedom, Bruce was certain the young man would be freed before the forty-eight hour deadline.

Still, it never hurt to be safe and so Bruce had sent Nightwing on a mission to Mike Gardenee. Although Batman might have been more effective, Bruce knew Dick was protective over Tim and, in the end, that edge would help them get the needed information. Besides, Bruce still had another life to live during the day, as tedious as it was.

"Mr. Wayne, there is a Miss, uh, Bunny on the line for you." Bruce rolled his eyes before hitting the button.

"Ah, I'll get it in here!" The older man sat down in his chair and prepared to dumb himself down for the sake of a secret identity.

…….

Daytime was a very unfamiliar time for the Bat Family when they were in costume. Bruce trained all his protégées to live in shadows and, during the day, that was rather hard. Or, at least, harder. However, Nightwing was able to improvise with the best of them and lurk in the shadows that did exist, however marginal they may be. Besides, this was for a good cause. His little brother was missing.

Much like Bruce, although neither shared their beliefs, Dick knew Tim could take care of himself. It wasn't a lack of confidence that drove Dick to search for Gardenee, but rather, it was the worry that something could happen to Tim. The young man had to keep a low profile and Dick knew Tim embraced his secret identity with a vengeance even if, in reality, Robin was no longer his to keep safe. Regardless, the older man knew Tim would act the appropriate role and, because of this, his chances to get free may dwindle. So, Nightwing was out on the town in order to find his kid brother.

Landing softly on the top Gardenee's penthouse apartment, Nightwing let himself in
through the window. Dick was pretty certain the bookie would be out at some downtown business building and this was a purely information gathering venture. Nightwing began his searching with the obvious places- computers, desktops, desk drawers- any place that Gardenee might have made a note about his business with the Drakes. The closest that Dick came to finding anything useful, however, was a computer file documenting the money that had been issued to Jack. Although it was informative and Dick felt a stab of pity to the man who thought his problems could be answered in gambling, there was nothing telling him where Tim could be.

While Nightwing was making a copy of the Drake file, the front doors to the apartment opened. Dick resisted the urge to roll his eyes because of having his searching interrupted, removed the disk and carefully positioned himself back out on the ledge. Sparing a glance inside, Nightwing noticed Gardenee had come alone. Smiling, Dick threw up a decel line up to the roof, pulled it tight, and then swung outwards aiming for the window.

The shattering of glass caused Mike to draw his gun as he turned and faced whatever came in through the window. All he could see, though, was a blur of black, and before he knew what happened, Mike was pinned against his desk with a masked face inches form his own.

"Hello, Gardenee." The man holding him said and Mike felt his heart rate increase.

"I need some information from you and I need it now. Where is the Drake kid?"

Gardenee swallowed and stared up into the black mask and white eyes. "I don't know."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Gardenee felt an arm being placed across is throat and his air supply lessen.

"I said, I need this information now."

Mike did his best to calm himself down and avoid panicking.

"I don't know." He ground out between his teeth. The hold over his throat left and Mike took a large intake of air. The weight that had been holding him to the desk also left.

Gardenee straightened his suit as he looked up at the costumed being before him. The all black suit with the blue bird-type figure on the front was not from Gotham, but Mike knew enough about the underground superhero world to recognize Nightwing. Instantly, Mike's interest was peaked as to why a Bludhaven vigilant would be concerned about some small time bookie in Gotham and missing kid.

Nightwing crossed his arms in front of him unimpressed with Gardenee, but also aware that he didn't know where Tim was. As a general rule, those in charge of operations like kidnapping for a ransom didn't know where their victim was being held. That way when the police (or a costume superhero) came, they could really play dumb. Of course, that didn't mean that he didn't know who knew where Tim was and that was what Nightwing betting on.

"Why do you care about the kid?" Mike asked as the two men faced off.

Nightwing smirked. "I ask the questions here. I want to know where the kid is and, since you don't know, who does?"

Gardenee just shrugged his shoulders. "I make it a point not to know who is in charge of such...dealings. Mister Drake owes me money and I intend to receive my dues."

Nightwing stepped closer to Mike, and poked a finger into the man's chest. "If the kid is hurt, you will receive your dues personally from me."

Gardenee, who had grown more confident without Nightwing sitting on his chest, only stared the vigilant down. "Why do you care so much about Drake's kid? What does he mean to you?"

Dick, outwardly, didn't look phased by Gardenee's words, but inwardly he felt his stomach twist. This man didn't need to know how much Tim meant to him. "I don't even know him, but apparently he means a hell of a lot to Mister Wayne who took care of him as a kid." Okay, so it wasn't the total truth, but neither was it a total lie. "And Mister Wayne has a lot of money and attracts the attention of a lot of well-known people."

"Like yourself?"

"Like Batman. Be careful, Gardenee, you're out of your league now."

With that, Nightwing jumped out of the window he'd broken earlier. Whether or not Mike knew information on Tim's whereabouts didn't matter; he wouldn't talk, or rather, couldn't talk about what he didn't know. Dick had learn, through the course of his costumed career, when people would give in and when they wouldn't. Gardenee, although not unafraid of him like many of the crazier criminals, had nothing to lose from talking about the Drake kid, but had everything to gain. Nightwing could have pressed him, and probably harder, but right now that didn't matter. Gardenee knew that Batman was on the case and, hopefully, that would make him slip up.

And when he did, the tracking device and bug Nightwing placed would be ready.

TBC