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Name changes, Bruce to Batman and Dick to Nightwing and vice versa are intentional. :)
Six hours later:
"Why hasn't he woken up yet?! Why hasn't he even moved?! And why are no chemicals showing up in his blood sample?!"
Bruce was loudly grumbling in the general direction of Alfred, who was tidying up the medical area after changing the bag that was feeding nutrients to Dick through an IV line.
"I don't know, Master Bruce," the butler replied with a sigh.
Then, too quietly for even Batman to hear, he continued, "But I do know you need to take better care of yourself. Will you never learn how to grow that seed of self-preservation? When was your last good meal, Master Dick?"
Bruce had been yelling at everything in the Batcave for a little over fifteen minutes, and it was beginning to take its toll on the ever-patient butler's ears.
As Bruce had said, nothing but normal blood had shown up in the several samples of blood he had taken from Dick. No known chemicals, no new ones that only the Blood Analyzing Bat-machine would have been able to detect. Nothing. Which meant no answers to any of the many questions that were flooding his mind.
While waiting for Dick to wake up, Batman had done some investigating. He had returned to both alleged crime scenes – the building across from Wayne Enterprises and the alley on the other side of the city. Nothing new had been discovered. The fat plank of wood had been where he had dropped it, the puddle of dried blood that had come from Nightwing's head, the faint outline of a body on the pebbles of the alley floor, and no sign of the new strangers who weren't proven criminals. Yet.
Batman had brought back the plank and examined it thoroughly, both by himself and with the help of some Bat-machines. Nothing unusual had been found, just some splinters one would expect to see on a piece of broken wood.
Now here he was, back in the Batcave and waiting for his son to wake up. It had been six hours! Even a severely concussed Nightwing should have woken up by now! Unless he had gone into a coma, which Alfred had assured him that he had not.
Unexpectedly, the waiting came to an end. Dick, without warning, opened his eyes and abruptly sat up. Alfred was on the other side of the Batcave, so the movement escaped his notice. Bruce, however, was standing seven feet away and had been scrutinizing his son for the last three and a half minutes.
"Dick," he stated, "welcome back."
The younger man turned his head, and Bruce instantly changed his instincts to those of Batman. Dick's formerly light-blue eyes were now a deep crimson color. They were slightly glazed, and the turn of his head had been too sharp for someone who had just woken up.
"Tell me how you're feeling," Batman commanded.
To the man's surprise, Dick immediately responded without any emotional change.
"I have a headache," he said simply. "Still. For three days."
"You've had that headache for three days?" Batman almost shouted. "Why didn't you tell me?!"
"Master Bruce," Alfred said quietly from behind him, "Master Dick doesn't live here. Batman and Nightwing rarely work together, sir, so why would he feel comfortable telling you?"
Batman gave a short nod of agreement and the Batcave fell silent. It was Dick who spoke first after almost two minutes.
"You're bleeding," he stated. "Both of you are. What happened?"
Batman and Alfred glanced at themselves and then at each other. There was no blood anywhere, on either of them.
"They know who I am," Dick continued. "My identity is not secure. They do not know who you are. I have to find them and take them out for good."
Dick's voice was so calm, so casual that he could have been talking about the weather. And the last sentence was said matter-of-factly, as if it meant nothing more than putting the strangers in jail. But that wasn't what Dick had meant, and all three of the men knew it.
"Master Dick, would you…"
"I'm fine, thank you," the youngest man interrupted. "I have to go. I have to find them. My identity must remain secure."
He started to stand up, but Batman was immediately in front of him.
"First," he growled, "you're not going anywhere. Second, you are not taking anyone 'out for good'. Ever. Third, we are not bleeding, we are perfectly fine and healthy. You, however, have eyes that look like they are on fire. Fourth, I need to know everything you can remember about the last four days. Now!"
The last word was a command, and the blood-red eyes of Dick narrowed in rebellion.
"First," he snapped, "you are not the boss of me. Second, I'm Nightwing, not Robin, and I don't take orders from you. Third…"
He trailed off then continued less than two seconds later.
"Third, I don't know what to say about that. Fourth, I've already been interrogated by you, and I gave you everything I had. Fifth, get. Out. Of. My. Way."
Dick shoved Batman away and stood up. The shove was rather weak, by Nightwing's standards, and Batman was back in his face before Dick could react. The older hero placed his hands on the younger's shoulders and pushed him back down onto the bed.
"Don't make me strap you down," he threatened.
The red eyes widened and the tense muscles relaxed. Dick had been strapped down once before, during one of his many kidnappings as Robin, and it had been the worst three days of his young life.
"Don't," he whispered, sounding like a frightened child instead of the strong young man that he was.
"Then don't move," Batman replied, crushing the urge to gather his son in a fierce hug.
Dick nodded, and Batman removed his hands.
"My head hurts."
"I have some Bat-pills, Master Dick."
Dick looked at Bruce, silently asking to be allowed to sit up and take the Bat-pills. The man nodded, so Dick slowly sat up. His wide, red eyes stayed glued to the dark-blue ones of Bruce, as if he was waiting for something terrible to happen.
"There is no reason to worry, Master Dick. All will be well," Alfred stated quietly.
The young man didn't move, so Alfred gently opened Dick's fist and put two small Bat-pills on the shaking hand. Keeping his eyes on Bruce, Dick shoved the pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Dick," Bruce said, concern outlining the words.
Dick stayed silent and laid back down. Bruce looked at Alfred, who shook his head. Sighing, Bruce walked away to test the sample of blood he had drawn from Dick just before the younger man had woken up. Nothing new was going to show up, he already knew that, but doing this meant he wouldn't have to see the look on his son's face. The look that meant Dick was completely terrified of him.
An apartment in downtown Gotham City:
"Batman took him, so I don't know if it worked," James snapped at his momma. "We have to find a way to knock out Batman, too."
"Nous n'avons pas l'element de surprise comme nous l'avons fait avec Nightwing. It n'y a aucun moyen de le faire."
"English, momma!"
"No zurprise, no work."
"Yes, I know we had the advantage of surprise with Nightwing. But there has to be something we can do!"
"Prendre le plus jeune attirera…"
"English!"
Jasmina frowned and shook her head. English was hard, and she was tired of trying to learn it. Her son could speak to the heroes, all she had to do was listen and then sing a note or two.
"Fine, we'll take Nightwing and lure Batman to us. I didn't want to do it so early, though. I enjoy verbally sparring with Nightwing."
"Idiot," she murmured, relieved that the word in English was the same as it was in her native French. "Hez scared if work," she continued.
"I hope so, especially if he's scared of Batman," James muttered. "Are you sure you did the right note?"
Jasmina drew herself up to her full height and frowned at her son.
"Vous doutez de moi?!" she exclaimed. "Idiot encore!"
"No, momma, of course I don't doubt you! I'm just not used to that one, so I didn't recognize the sound. I'm sorry, momma."
The woman nodded then held her arms open. James stepped into the hug and she kissed him on the top of his head.
"Zees work. Nightwing be…" she trailed off, struggling to think of the right word.
"Mine, momma," James finished for her as he pulled out of the hug. "This will work, and Nightwing will be mine."
The next afternoon:
"Who am I to stop him, sir? He doesn't live here anymore. All I can do is suggest."
Bruce was fuming. He shouldn't have gone to work, he should have taken the day off and forced Dick to stay in the Manor. Dick had left two hours after Bruce had gone to work, claiming that he was fine and telling Alfred he would contact him if he needed any medical help or advice.
"He better be in his apartment resting," Bruce snapped. "Did he even tell you if the headache had come back?!"
"No, Master Bruce, he simply said he was fine. I suggested that he stay one more day, just in case it came back and he needed another dose of Bat-pills, but he said he was fine."
"That's the first place Batman is going tonight, Dick Grayson's apartment. Sometimes he's such an idiot."
"Forgive my bluntness, sir, but you are the pot calling the kettle black."
Bruce raised his eyebrows in surprise. His butler, the always formal and supportive Alfred, had just called him an idiot.
"Be the bigger man, Master Bruce, and apologize. He's your son, not some random crime-fighter with whom you have a feud. Master Dick is your son. As I said before, you are going to lose him forever if you continue on this path. Again, is that something you are willing to risk, sir?"
Shaking his head, Alfred turned around and walked toward the kitchen.
"Dinner will be ready at six, sir."
Bruce opened his mouth to reply, but the butler had already disappeared through the swinging door.
He's right. It's my fault just as much as it is Dick's fault. So why can't I just apologize?
Dick Grayson's apartment:
Dick was resting, just as Bruce had hoped, but not in the way Bruce would want. His head was pounding, he was dizzy, and he had just barely made it through the door before dropping to the ground. The door had closed, but Dick didn't feel like getting up and locking it. He was on his back, eyes squeezed shut against the dim lights of his living room, holding and then gently releasing his breath to push the nausea away.
"Gotta find them," he whispered between breaths. "Or let them find me. Can't handle this much longer."
The Bat-pills had eased the ache in his head, for all of seventeen minutes. He had ignored the pain, refusing to tell either Bruce or Alfred that their almighty Bat-pills had failed after so short a time. Six additional hours in the Batcave with the continuous feeling of a nail being shoved deep into his brain. Then Bruce had gone to work, and Dick had left. He didn't need the continued scrutiny from either man, he could take care of himself.
Sweat was sliding down every part of his body. He was hot, then cold, then hot again, and the cycle continued. These were new symptoms, and Dick knew he should get up and take his temperature. But he couldn't bring himself to even roll over, much less stand up.
Dick didn't want to move, but that didn't mean his senses were being lazy. The distinct sound of his bedroom window being opened didn't escape his sharp hearing. He should get up, defend himself against whatever threat was entering his room.
At least open your eyes.
The thought came in Batman's commanding tone, and Dick obeyed. The ceiling was spinning, and the young man wondered when he had painted it red. Was he even allowed to paint his apartment? His landlord was going to be upset.
"We meet again."
The voice was familiar, he had heard it so many times in the last three or four days. It motivated him, so he rolled over and pushed himself to standing. Leaning heavily against the wall, he allowed Nightwing to take over.
"I've been waiting for you to show up," the hero said, attempting to force strength into his voice. "What took you so long?"
"Actually, you've been waiting for a headache to go away," James retorted with a grin. "You were probably hoping to never see me again."
"Wrong on both counts," Nightwing replied casually. "For the third or fourth or fifth time, what do you want from me? This is getting ridiculous. You show up, talk, do nothing, and leave. What's the point?"
"You're drenched in sweat, your entire body is trembling, you're pale, and the only thing holding you up is that wall. I can help with that headache. I doubt Batman had any magical Bat-pill that helped."
Nightwing rolled his eyes and said, "I'm tired of this conversation again. Just tell me…"
"Fine," James interrupted with another pout. "I want you to put this on."
He tossed a Nightwing suit and domino mask in the general direction of Dick, whose eyes widened in surprise.
"Where…"
"Where did I get that? I didn't get it anywhere, I made it. You see, I wasn't absolutely sure that Nightwing and Dick Grayson were one and the same. But you just proved it to me with that sharp intake of breath and those beautiful red eyes pulsing with something akin to panic, along with your willing participation in the conversation. So, thank you. Now I know for sure."
The nausea returned with a vengeance, but Dick held it back. Now was not the time to show weakness by throwing up. Instead, he listened to the exquisite sound of a very familiar, high-pitched note that blissfully blew the ache right out of his head. With a brief smile of relief, Dick melted to the ground and into darkness once again.
French to English translations, in order of appearance:
Nous n'avons pas l'element de surprise comme nous l'avons fait avec Nightwing. It n'y a aucun moyen de le faire - We don't have the element of surprise like we did with Nightwing. There is no way to do it.
Prendre le plus jeune attirera... - Taking the youngest will attract...
Vous doutez de moi?! Idiot encore! - You doubt me?! Idiot again!
*I used Google translate so I'm sorry if I got some of them wrong!*
