A/N: Thanks for commenting, JessicaRae95 and VintageRoseTaylor!

As always, italics represent thoughts to oneself, but are sometimes used for emphasis. Thanks for reading! :)


An apartment building somewhere outside Radiance, Pennsylvania – present time:

The car was idling, and Dick was freezing. Cold air seeped through the tiny holes in the trunk and the continual loss of blood, although it was small, wasn't helping. The trunk suddenly popped open and Shorty appeared.

"Number," he demanded, but the teenager was shivering too much to reply.

Sighing, Shorty stepped away and Teddy appeared. Sliding his arms under Dick, the big man picked him up and began walking. A minute or so later – Dick was having a hard time concentrating enough to estimate time – warm air washed over his body.

"Welcome to your new home," Teddy stated.

"Clean up the mess."

That was Scruffy's rough voice, and Teddy immediately released Dick. The boy shut his eyes in anticipation of pain, but was pleasantly surprised when he landed on something soft. Now he was being encased in a warm blanket and Shorty was whispering some words that Dick couldn't quite catch.

"Now," Scruffy said, suddenly appearing beside the teenager. "Now you are going to give us the number of Wayne Manor. Or, I can use my knife again and send a nice package to Mr. Wayne. A package that, when he opens it, will take his breath away and maybe even cause him to faint. I'll start small, maybe your left hand."

Dick's brain was waking up and he understood what was about to happen. He definitely didn't want Bruce to receive a package like that.

"267-347-9058."

"That wasn't so hard, was it," Scruffy commented with a smirk.

The man disappeared and Dick propped himself up on his elbows. He was tired, but he needed to find something for Batman. Even a tiny clue would help. But a hand pushed him down, and Dick glared up at Shorty.

"I'm just trying to help you, kid. Boss won't like it if you're moving around."

"I've been lying in the trunk of a car for however long!" the teenager exclaimed quietly. "I need a new position!"

Shorty hesitated, then nodded. He helped Dick sit up and leaned him against the tall headboard of the bed.

At that moment, Teddy entered the room. He had some red and white rags clutched in his hands, and his nose was wrinkled in disgust.

"I hate blood," he muttered as he headed toward a different room that Dick couldn't see.

That statement reminded the teenager of a knife. He glanced down, but he could only see the thick blanket that was wrapped around him. There was no way he was going to choose to get out of that. It was the first time he had been warm in what felt like hours.

"Good evening, Mr. Wayne," Scruffy said from the other side of the room, his voice both smooth and smug.

Dick began searching the room with his eyes, looking for anything distinctive that could help Batman locate him. It was a normal-looking bedroom, with a door in front of him and a window over by Scruffy. But it was completely covered with closed curtains, making it impossible for Dick to see anything that might be helpful outside.

Okay, what do I know? In the car for an hour-ish before getting in trouble. How long after that?

For all Dick knew, he could have been in the trunk for thirty minutes or three hours. His brain had been fogging up, making thinking and estimating difficult.

Cold outside, small bedroom…

And that was it. He could be in a house, or an apartment, or a cabin in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing for him to give Bruce, and he was immediately frustrated. Batman would be frustrated with the lack of clues, if he wasn't already, and Dick would be disappointing him. Again.

"Of course you can have proof of life," Scruffy stated calmly.

Teddy was suddenly scooping Dick up and striding across the room. The teenager looked around again, frantically searching for some kind of clue.

"Dick?"

The phone was against his ear, and Dick recognized the tone. It was the combination of fake concern and faux fear that Bruce Wayne had perfected after the first kidnapping. But this time there was a tinge of frustration and a hint of real worry.

That meant Batman had nothing, and Dick was about to give him nothing.

"I'm fine, Bruce," the teenager said softly.

There was nothing else to say, no reassuring words or tiny clues. It didn't matter anyway, since Scruffy took the phone away as soon as Dick had finished the short sentence.

"I'll let you know what I want next time I call. Start gathering money, Mr. Wayne. I won't give you much time once I tell you."

The slight threat slid through the phone and then Scruffy quietly hung up. Grinning, he nodded to Teddy, who turned around and headed back to the bed. The big man propped Dick up again, then he and Shorty went to join Scruffy on the other side of the room.

The men began conferring in low tones, their voices so quiet that Dick couldn't hear the words even when he stopped breathing. It was a good time to try to escape, but the teenager was sleepy. He was warm, and comfortable, and so, so tired. His eyes slid closed and he slipped into exhausted slumber.


The Batcave:

"Good evening, Mr. Wayne."

The voice on the other end of the phone was both gruff and smooth at the same time. Batman's right hand unconsciously clenched the black phone tighter and a scowl formed on his face.

Alfred quietly cleared his throat, as he had before, and Batman became Bruce Wayne.

"What do you want?" he asked, his tone the perfect combination of concern and fear. "Where is Dick? I want proof of life!"

The kidnapper easily agreed and there was the sound of rustling…something. He would have to re-listen to that later. Silence surrounded him.

"Dick?"

He waited impatiently, hoping that he wouldn't hear pain or fear in his teenager's voice.

"I'm fine, Bruce," Dick said softly.

Batman waited for more, for some tiny hint of Dick's location, but nothing else came from his ward.

The kidnapper was immediately back, and Batman was both surprised and angry. The crime-fighter had no Bat-tracker, and now he had no clues from Dick.

"I'll let you know what I want next time I call. Start gathering money, Mr. Wayne. I won't give you much time once I tell you."

"Wait!" Bruce exclaimed, but the line was already dead.

Alfred quickly rewound the recording and both men began listening carefully. There had to be a noise or…something…that could help them. They listened seventeen times with no positive results. The only sound was the rustling, and they couldn't even figure out what that was.

"I don't know where he is," Batman whispered, the frustration replaced with concern. "And I don't know what they want. Why didn't he give me anything?!"

Frustration jumped back into his voice as the last sentence loudly echoed around the Batcave.

"Perhaps he had nothing to give, sir," Alfred replied, his calm tone belying the concern that he, too, was feeling.

"There's always a clue, Alfred," Batman disagreed gruffly. "He always gives me something."

"There is a first time for everything, Master Batman. Perhaps he was blindfolded, or didn't see any signs."

"Or stuffed in a trunk," Batman murmured, anger in his voice.

Alfred didn't reply to that suggestion. Both men knew that Dick hated being in complete darkness. And, unless they had given him some other clothes, the teenager was only in his boxers. There would be no heater in the trunk.

"He didn't sound injured or frozen, sir," Alfred finally commented.

Batman nodded, but then shook his head.

"That doesn't mean he's not."

"Of course, Master Batman. However, he would not have been able to so easily talk to you if he was freezing, sir."

"He's very good at keeping pain out of his voice, Alfred."

"Pain, yes, I know that as well as you do, sir. But at least we know he is not frozen."

Batman hummed in agreement and then played the tape again.

"I don't even recognize the voice."

"Nor do I, sir."

The Caped Crusader began pacing again. He had nothing, not even a place to start.

"You will find him, sir. Perhaps there will be something in the next call."

"Sure," Batman muttered cynically. "Just like there was this time."

"Have faith, Master Batman. Master Dick is resourceful, he will figure out a way to find a clue for you."

"I better start gathering money, just in case. I might actually have to pay this time."

"As I said, sir, have faith. I trust Master Dick, and so should you."

"I do trust him!" Batman replied defensively. "But if there's nothing to find…"

With a sigh, Alfred repeated, "Master Dick is resourceful, sir. He is also intelligent and has experience with this as both Dick Grayson and Robin. He will figure something out, sir."

"He better," Batman growled, causing Alfred to shake his head.

"If you sound like that the next time you talk to him, sir, he will hear only disappointment. You finally made him realize how important he is to you, Master Bruce. Don't break that still-tenuous thread of self-confidence you have given him."

"Why are you always so wise," Batman mumbled, continuing to pace.

"I care for a crime-fighting duo, sir. I do have some experience with these situations."

"So do I," Batman whispered.


An apartment building somewhere outside Radiance, Pennsylvania – the next morning:

"Wake up, sleepy head!"

The loud voice belonged to Shorty, and Dick grumbled in reply. He was too tired to wake up and, in his opinion, everyone should just leave him alone.

Suddenly the blanket was whipped away and the teenager's eyes popped open as his cocoon of warmth disappeared. He gasped as the removal of the blanket made cold air fly across his body.

"Okay, I'm awake!"

Dick hoped the statement would bring back the warmth, but Teddy tossed it away and Scruffy sat down next to the teenager.

"Do you want to know what I want?"

No, I've only asked you like three or four times.

Dick nearly rolled his eyes, but stopped himself and nodded instead.

"The identity of Batman," Scruffy replied, and the fifteen-year-old internally sighed.

"He doesn't know," Dick stated. "Do you know how many people have tried this? Kidnapping me in order to force Bruce to give them a name he doesn't even know?!"

"He knows, he has to know. He's a personal friend, you said so yourself. A personal friend of Batman should know the guy's biggest secret. You might not know, or even know that he knows. But trust me, he knows."

"You want me to…trust you?" Dick asked incredulously. "You took me out of school at gunpoint, took away my clothes in freezing weather, stuffed me in a trunk, and now you want me to trust you?! You are some kind of idiot," he finished, shaking his head.

The knife that he hadn't even seen slid lightly across his bare chest, making him shiver.

"You might want to watch your words. I am very talented with my knife."

Because I've never been threatened at knifepoint.

Dick kept that sarcastic thought to himself. There was no need to further antagonize the man who was now holding the knife against his neck again.

"He gives me the identity, I tell him where you are, I leave you to bleed out. We are a long way from Gotham City. I'm going to tie you to the bedpost standing up. That will make all these tiny cuts bleed a little faster."

"Closed," Dick muttered, knowing he should keep his mouth shut but hating to appear weak.

"They can be reopened," Scruffy said with a laugh. "Now who's the idiot?"

Standing up, the man walked away and Teddy immediately began wrapping the blanket around Dick's now-shivering body.

It doesn't matter, he'll never give up Batman.

Dick knew that possibility didn't exist, not even for him. Bruce would never put Alfred in danger, and Bruce would always choose Alfred first. As he should, in the teenager's opinion. The butler had raised Bruce, was always supportive, always by the man's side ready to help with whatever he needed. Dick? He was just an orphaned kid who had lived with the man for a few years. Dick knew he was important, to both men, but Bruce would always choose Alfred first.

The thought didn't make him angry, or sad, or even afraid. Alfred was more important than Dick, there was no doubt in the fifteen-year-old's mind about that. So the idea that he was going to bleed out because Bruce wouldn't put Alfred in danger didn't even bother him. Batman's identity would remain secure and both men would be safe. If Dick had to sacrifice himself for that to happen, he would do it willingly. And Batman would know that. Bruce might not like it, but Batman would understand that it needed to be done.

Cold air swept through the room and Dick, even though he was completely wrapped in the thick blanket, automatically shivered. Shorty walked in, and the teenager heard the distinctive sound of an outside door squeaking as it closed. He also heard something else, something that sparked a tiny flame of hope in his chest. At first he thought he was imagining it, grasping at straws because he had no clues for Batman. But when a gust of wind pushed the door back open, causing Teddy to rush out of the room to close it, the sound intensified. It was a soft sound to him, so he didn't know how far away he was, but if he could somehow let Batman know, it would definitely give the hero a place to start.