Note: Disclaimer - there's a little reference to an episode of the 1966 TV series (which is amazing!) called "Death in Slow Motion". The credit for that snippet goes to the writers of the script

This chapter is dedicated to Juliet and Jake, two very strong teenagers who have had to overcome so many things in their lives.


Two hours later:

Nightwing didn't want to, but he dragged his eyes open anyway. His head was pounding again, but this time it was a screw being used on his brain. The room was bright, making it even more painful for his sensitive head, and he was dripping with sweat.

Lifting his head, the young hero began taking stock of his situation. The first thing he saw was Batman, the dark-blue eyes almost black with anger, manacled and hanging by a chain that came from above. Nightwing didn't want to look above, where the lights were streaming from, so he just assumed the chain was attached to the ceiling.

And then he realized that he was in the same position, with one difference. Batman was against the wall, but Nightwing was gently swinging with no walls around him.

"Welcome back," Batman growled, making Nightwing wince. "How do you feel?"

Nightwing was too exhausted, in too much pain, and too confused to answer.

"Talk to me," Batman commanded quietly.

"T'rd," the younger hero mumbled, dropping his head again.

"I need more than that, chum," the older hero stated, again ignoring the fact that the word of affection had popped out.

Nightwing hadn't heard that word in a long time. He lifted his head again, his crimson eyes full of frustration. They were no longer friends, they were no longer partners, they were…he didn't even know what they were.

Batman was also frustrated. He could see the sheen of sweat on his son's face and had been watching it drip onto the floor for almost ten minutes. The first thing he had done upon awakening was look at his situation and test for weaknesses – the manacles, the chain, the steel beam, pushing against the wall with his legs, everything he could think of. Nothing worked, so he had then started to observe his former partner.

When Nightwing had lifted his head, Batman saw dark-red instead of light-blue, and his eyes grew dark with anger. James and Jasmina were going to regret everything. They would make a mistake sometime, and Batman would have what he needed to put them in prison. State Pen, Arkham, it didn't matter to him.

Nightwing was tired, Batman could already see that, so that answer wasn't helpful. His head was hanging down again, but Batman couldn't let his son fall asleep.

"I need more than that, chum," he repeated.

The word had made Nightwing lift his head again, even though it had slipped out of Batman's mouth by accident. It was obvious that the younger hero wasn't in the mood to talk, so the older hero decided to ask easy questions.

"Headache?" he asked, and received a small nod.

"Hot and then cold?"

That was a question he didn't need to ask, since he was continually seeing small bouts of shivering in addition to the sweat, but he wanted to keep Nightwing awake.

Nightwing mumbled something that Batman assumed meant 'yes'.

"Shoulders stretched?"

He didn't need to ask that one, either. The answer was obvious, since they were hanging from the ceiling by their arms. Of course their shoulders were stretched and beginning to throb.

"Y'ssssssss," Nightwing slurred softly. "Sssssc'w in b'ain."

"Has it been that bad the entire time? You've had a screw being twisted into your brain for five days?"

At least, he thought it had been five days. Maybe four, but his guess was close enough.

"Nail f'sssst."

The answer was almost inaudible and Batman growled softly as understanding filled his mind. The pain had to be excruciating. First a figurative nail had been pounded into his brain, and now a figurative screw was being twisted in there. Batman had had severe concussions before, and had felt like hammers were slamming against his brain, but he had never felt anything like Nightwing had just explained.

"Has it ever stopped?"

"Um, sssssssev'teen mins. Ba'-pills."

"The Bat-pills only worked for seventeen minutes?!" Batman shouted. "Why didn't you tell us?!"

Nightwing winced at the loud noise, and Batman attempted to calm down. Alfred's wise words danced through his mind: why would Nightwing tell him anything like that? Nightwing could take care of himself, Nightwing didn't need – didn't want – their help.

"Sssssss'rry," Nightwing whispered, the word slurred and almost indistinct.

"Not your fault," Batman immediately replied. "They drugged you, Nightwing. They have some kind of eyedrops that make…"

"No," Nightwing interrupted softly, "fight, sssssssss'rry fight."

He dropped his head again, the pain too intense for him to want to use his neck muscles.

"We'll talk about it later, chum," Batman stated, both surprise and hope rolling around in his chest.

"Not be 'round la'er," the younger man mumbled. "Gon' die. T'rd."

"No, Nightwing, you're not going to die," Batman stated confidently. "We're going to find a way out of this, and then we're going to find a way to get rid of that headache, and then we're going to find some kind of proof so we can arrest these two idiots."

"Sssss'rry," Nightwing mumbled again, and his body went completely slack.

"Don't you dare give up on me!" Batman shouted. "Look at me, Nightwing, don't you dare leave!"

"Oh, he's not leaving, Batman, he's just completely paralyzed."

Batman growled as James walked into view. The man was smirking and swinging a wooden cane lightly in his right hand. Jasmina walked in and went straight to Nightwing.

"Leave. Him. Alone."

Batman's tone was threatening, and Jasmina paused to glare at him. Then she turned back to Nightwing and began doing something that Batman couldn't see. James was right in front of him, and they were completely blocking his view.

"Both you and your protégé have asked me to stop monologuing," James began with a slight grin. "However, neither of you have actually heard one of my monologues. So, now you can. Don't worry, Nightwing can hear and feel everything, he just can't move or do anything about it. Oh, except his eyes. He can move his eyes, but that won't really help him here."

"Shut up and leave, before I…"

"Batman," James sighed, disappointment bursting from the word, "you really should learn to listen. How often has Nightwing, or Robin, had an idea that you immediately dismissed? How many times have you made him feel smaller than an ant because you ignore something he tries to tell you? How many times have you apologized, I wonder. I doubt he has ever heard the words 'I'm sorry' from you. He's been with you for nigh on ten years, and you've never apologized. Tell me I'm wrong," James taunted, throwing Batman's words back at him.

The questions and comments sliced into his heart, but Batman shoved the feelings aside for now. He had more important things to focus on, escaping and taking James down, for example.

"Do you want to know why we're here, why I've decided to do this to you?" James continued.

Batman remained silent, but drove his darkest Bat-glare deep into the other man's eyes.

James rolled his eyes, tossed his cane up, and easily caught the curved handle.

"Maybe this will help you answer," he snarled, turning around and walking over to Nightwing.

Jasmina had moved away, and Batman's anger grew. She had lifted Nightwing's head and put a collar around his neck, then attached the collar to the manacles. The younger hero's neck and head were forced upright and completely immobile, and his dark-red eyes were full of fear. Batman had only seen that terrified look once, when Robin had been strapped down for those three days.

"Remember, he can see and hear and feel everything," James stated as he strode up to the younger hero. "Batman hates you, and asked me to do this for him."

The man swung the cane, hard, and Batman clearly heard the 'crack' of a bone in his son's torso. Nightwing's nostrils flared as he forced himself to breathe through the pain. The hit twisted his body around and the chain began swinging from side to side.

"Only his eyes," James turned back to look at Batman. "He can't move anything else at all. He can't even open his mouth, so you don't get to know how much pain he is in. I can do whatever I want, and you get to wonder about how much it hurts him. Like this, for example."

James turned to the swaying Nightwing and slammed the cane down on one of his shoulders. The distinct 'pop' of a dislocated shoulder echoed around the room and Batman pushed his legs against the wall as hard as he could. There had to be a way to escape, and he needed to do it before the criminal beat the younger hero to death.

Jasmina stopped the chain and Nightwing stared at Batman, pain outlining his red eyes, but strength emanating from the middle.

I can do this. I can take it. You find a way out, I'll keep him occupied.

They were no longer partners, but they could still easily communicate with their eyes.

I will get us out of here.

I know. And I can take this.

I…know.

Batman wished he didn't know that, wished he had no idea of Nightwing's level of pain tolerance. If he had never brought ten-year-old Dick into this life….

"Okay, now that I have your attention," James said with a grin, "I'll begin my monologue."

"I have evidence now," Batman said quietly, his voice dark and dangerous.

"Yes, well, we'll be gone before you escape. And Nightwing will be dead. Did I not tell you that? I suppose that's part of my monologue. Spoiler alert! That's how this ends. Nightwing will feel everything we do to him without being able to move, you will watch it happen. He will slowly drift away to his death, and you will watch it happen. We will leave, you will eventually find a way to escape, and then you can mourn the death of someone close to you. Like I have for seven years, and will continue to until the day I die."

"Obviously you want revenge on me," Batman snapped, "so leave Nightwing out of it."

"Oh, Batman, you still don't understand. Let me explain."

"There is nothing to explain. Shut up and release him."

"Her name was Aline. It means beautiful, and that's what she was. She was my shining light, I looked up to her in so many ways. When things went wrong at school, she was there. If I made some kind of mistake that our father…" James spit that word out with disgust, "…wasn't happy about, she was there. Everything I did was for her, she was my life. And suddenly her light was taken away."

James paused and roughly swiped a hand down his face. Batman wanted to make a sarcastic comment about the man's obvious emotions, but he glanced at Nightwing. The younger hero's crimson eyes were full of sadness and outlined with compassion. So, because of his son, Batman stayed quiet.

"You were there," James continued, "and so was your precious Robin. At least he tried to save her. All you did was watch as the bullet flew toward her. I'm no hero," that word was also spit out in disgust, "but I know your reflexes are quick enough to throw a bad-gadget and knock a gun out of a man's hands. But you were relieved, weren't you? That gun had been pointing at your sidekick before my beautiful sister unwittingly stepped into the line of fire."

He paused again, anger flooding his eyes and filling his expression.

"She was walking home from rehearsal, she shouldn't have even been there!" the man yelled. "All she did was turn the corner, and the bad guy's focus was diverted from your precious sidekick!"

"Her death was a criminal act, not the fault of either Nightwing or myself," Batman growled. "Your quarrel lies with the criminal."

"You. Just. Watched," James snarled back. "You probably don't even remember that night. Let me go back and set the scene."

"No need, I understand," Batman stated. "There was a criminal with a gun…"

"SHUT UP!" James exploded.

"Jaques," Jasmina said softly.

Taking a deep breath, James continued, "Batman and Robin, the 'Dynamic Duo', the 'Caped Crusader' and the 'Boy Wonder'. You two couldn't even take down a measly criminal and his goons without sacrificing an innocent victim."

Batman heard a quiet noise and his gaze shifted to Nightwing. His former partner's eyes were wide and recognition was racing through them. Apparently he remembered, but Robin and Nightwing were much more sensitive to the deaths of innocent civilians than Batman himself had ever been.

"He remembers," James stated, hearing the noise and glancing back before returning his gaze to Batman. "Too bad he can't tell you. The Joker and his thugs. You two idiots were too busy fighting to see the gun that came from the pocket of one of the thugs. But then the one you were fighting went down, and you turned toward the next one. That's when you saw the gun that was pointing at your little sidekick. You yelled his name, he turned around and saw the danger, and my sister rounded the corner that was just over your boy's right shoulder. Think, Batman."

A distinct memory flashed through his mind. A fist flying towards Robin's face and a bullet about to fly through his heart. A person, someone walking out of an alley, distracting the gunman. A shifted barrel, a diving Robin, a dead civilian.

"Now you remember," James commented, anger flooding his tone. "The boy dove, trying to throw his body between the gun and my sister. You watched, you didn't even pull out one of your bat-gadget things you are so proud of. You just watched. Her death is on you. And on Robin, but more on you."

"It was unexpected, unforeseeable," Batman replied through clenched teeth. "We can't prevent everything."

"Now you know why Nightwing has to die with you watching," James stated, his voice much more casual.

"Were you even there?" Batman demanded. "How do you know what happened?"

"There are these things called street cameras," James responded sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "And if you know the right people, or have the right things, you can get into a monitoring station and look at recorded videos from any night you want. I happen to have the right things. A spritz of red into someone's eyes and a momma who sings like an angel."

James grinned and the puzzle fell into place in Batman's mind. Somehow, the man had created a chemical that was activated by a specific note. From his encounters with James, Batman knew two separate notes could incapacitate a person and another could force a person to do…what? Nightwing had sent himself into unconsciousness, but the cause of his action was unclear.

"You look slightly confused," James stated. "Because we will be gone before you can get out of your restraints, I'll be happy to explain. It's quite ingenious, really."

"I don't…"

"Of course you care," James interrupted. "You want to know how I'm controlling the mighty Nightwing. I'm sure you've figured some of it out, since you've seen the eyedrops and heard my momma's beautiful voice."

"This is…"

"I'm filling in the gaps," the criminal interrupted again, "so you should shut up. The eyedrops gave him a never-ending headache, which eventually led to flu-like symptoms. I'm sure you've seen the shivering and sweating, obvious signs of a fever. But he doesn't have a fever."

"Let him…"

Without missing a beat, James continued, "The headache will stay until my momma sings a certain note. You've heard that note, remember the alley? When the 'strong' Nightwing melted to the ground like a rag doll? Relief filled his face, but you probably didn't see that part. The second note you heard that night makes him feel like his brain is on fire, also incapacitating him."

"I know…"

"But the note you heard today," James continued, ignoring Batman's continual attempts to speak, "is the best one of all. Whatever emotion he is feeling at that moment is increased ten-fold. Obviously he was confused and angry, since he punched you, his partner. But he was also disappointed in himself, which is why he, how should I put it?"

There was a short pause and Batman opened his mouth again.

"Punished himself," James finished quickly, not allowing any time for the hero to speak. "He knocked you out, he hasn't defeated me, or even figured out how to defeat me, he has woken up at least twice to you staring at him, he was probably ashamed that he needed your help to fix him up, he…"

"ENOUGH!" Batman roared. "You have just confessed and now I have everything I need to take you down."

"That headache will never leave, Batman, no matter what you try to do to help him. He will never be a hero, even if he's still alive after our activities here. It will drive him mad to be in so much pain all the time. Perhaps he will even take his life into his own hands, do something drastic that neither of you would ever contemplate doing."

"You will pay for this," Batman snarled, his voice filled with rage. "You will regret every second of your measly existence. No matter what happens here, I will find you, and you will be sent to prison in a body cast. And you'll lose your 'dear' momma forever."

"But you'll never find me," James scoffed. "And if the mighty Nightwing is still alive, you'll spend all of your time trying to find a cure. But the only cure is my momma's singular note, which you'll never hear again. Even when I'm not here, I'll be controlling the 'near-indestructible' Nightwing."

"You. Will…"

"Now, what should we do next?" James asked, turning toward Jasmina and ignoring the threatening tone of the Caped Crusader. "Momma, any ideas?"

Jasmina shook her head and said, "Iz nuff."

"But mommaaaaaa," James whined, "I've just only started!"

"Rib ez broke, oui? Bad zhoulder. Iz nuff."

"For Aline, momma! Batman must pay for Aline's death! Batman doit payer pour la mort d'Aline! You just don't want to see it, right? How about if you leave, momma, and I'll finish up in here."

"Iz nuff," Jasmina repeated. "Personne ne doit mourir. Maintenant, Batman le sait et se sentira toujours coupable. C'est assez."

"Your momma is right," Batman growled. "It's enough."

"A broken rib and dislocated shoulder are not going to kill your sidekick," James retorted. "even combined with the pain of the headache. But…losing blood will help."

"Whatever you're thinking about doing, you will regret it," Batman threatened.

"Let's see," James mused, ignoring the threat, "what will make him lose enough but not too much?"

The man began pacing, swinging the cane and staring at Nightwing, who was using his best version of the Bat-glare. It looked more menacing coming from the blood-red eyes, but James was confident. His special drug would last for at least a day, so even if the blood was just trickling out, it would be enough to slowly kill him.

"I've got it," he suddenly yelled, moving his gaze to Batman. "Buuuuuuuuuuut, you'll just have to wait and see. I'll be right back."

With a sneering grin, James dropped the cane on the ground and left the room. His momma shook her head and followed him out.

"It's going to be okay, Nightwing. I'm going to get us out of this."

Nightwing couldn't move his head or open his mouth to answer. And the chain, which was still slightly swaying, was turning his body away from his former partner. A muffled grunt was the only thing Batman heard, and then he had to stare at Nightwing's back.

"You can do this, Nightwing. I'll find a way quickly, just hold on."

The only answer was the continued swaying of the young body. And then James returned. He was carrying a small cube of foam, some gauze, and some thin medical tape. He laid the supplies on the floor, picked up the cane, and turned Nightwing's body around. James waited until the younger hero was completely still before he began speaking.

"Nightwing," he began, "have you ever had a broken nose? Oh, right, you can't answer me."

Turning to Batman, James repeated, "Has Nightwing ever had a broken nose? Or have you? I've heard it's quite painful. And," he glanced back at the younger hero, "bloody."

Nightwing's eyes widened, but the movement was so tiny that only Batman noticed.

"I'll take it," Batman snarled. "Go ahead," he challenged, "break my nose."

"Oh no, that's too easy!" James exclaimed, his eyes full of both surprise and disbelief. "You really think I'm going to make this easy on you?!"

"If you even think…"

"Why do I have to tell you to shut up again, Batman,?" James sneered. "As a reminder, Nightwing can't move at all. Which means he can't open his mouth. And when a broken nose bleeds, it comes down through the nostrils, filling them with blood before streaming out."

Both Batman and Nightwing recognized what was about to happen. Batman growled and yanked his arms down, attempting to get out of the manacles. All he accomplished was dislocating his shoulders and making the chain swing side to side. He was against the wall, so his body didn't turn away from them, but it did slightly move sideways with the chain.

Nightwing stared at Batman, terror in his eyes. This was it, he knew it. Batman was about to watch him suffocate on his own blood. And there was nothing either of them could do about it. He couldn't move, and his former partner couldn't escape. His mind yelled at him to attack, to use any muscles he could in order to keep James from doing this. But his attempts were completely useless. Nothing obeyed him; all he could do was watch.

His gaze went from the mix of fury and concern in Batman's eyes to the approaching James. The man was gently swinging the cane, and it reminded Nightwing of the Riddler when he had impersonated Charlie Chaplin.

Riddler is an excellent impersonator.

The thought distracted him, but only for two seconds. Suddenly the cane was coming towards his face. Nightwing couldn't turn his head away, he couldn't even attempt to turn away, and the straight end of the cane smashed onto the bridge of his nose.


French translations, in order of appearance:

Batman doit payer pour la mort d'Aline! - Batman must pay for Aline's death!

Personne ne doit mourir. Maintenant, Batman le sait et se sentira toujours coupable. C'est assez. - Nobody has to die. Now Batman knows and will always feel guilty. It's enough.

Google translate again, please forgive me if I got something wrong. :)