Why do men fight who were born to be brothers?
~James Longstreet
Chapter Eleven
Damian grit his teeth. He was going to kill his 'brother'. He whipped the staff only to have it blocked by his opponent.
"You are not well versed with the Bo. What makes you think that you will stand a chance if you have not mastered your weapon?" The Heretic said with a small cackle.
Damian gave a roar of anger and leapt at his adversary. The Heretic simply punched Damian in the face and Damian fell backwards. He landed harshly on his feet, his knee buckling underneath him.
"You are injured. This will take no time at all. After I finish you here, I will go and attend to the other that you left behind. His time is limited already. It was as such when he decided to return your soul to its body."
Damian clenched his teeth tightly. He needed to shut out this nuisance speech. He couldn't allow for this clone to distract him. He had to fulfill his mission, he had to. Drake was bleeding out and if he didn't get back in time his death would be on his hands. Grayson and Father would never accept him if that happened.
But the Heretic was correct. He wasn't well adjusted to Drake's weapon of choice. A sissy stick in his opinion, but it needed to work for him. His adrenaline began to pump into his system.
The Heretic withdrew a knife from one of the many pockets that he had. He held it out, but made no moves to attack.
"My orders are to take you to Mother. Do not make this harder on yourself, brother."
Damian took a batarang from the utility belt. The edges were sharp enough to cut flesh. Not that that was what his father had intended for it to be, there were ropes that needed to be cut with them, but to hell with intended uses. Blood was going to be spilt.
He threw the batarang and swung the staff. The batarang was blocked, but the staff connected with his throat. The Heretic let out a choking noise as his air was cut off. Using the opportunity, Damian planted the staff and used it as a spring board to launch his feet into the chest of his opponent. Damian held back a wince when his injured leg connected.
The Heretic fell back to the ground, Damian poised above him, staff's end at his throat.
"Any last words, before I end your miserable life?" Damian growled.
The Heretic shifted underneath Damian. The clone smirked behind his mask.
"How does it feel to be the reason why your rescuer is dead?" He asked.
Damian narrowed his eyes. No, he was going to be back for Drake. He had promised. Even if only to himself. A debt needed to be repaid.
Damian used as much force as he could and slammed the staff into the side of the Heretic's head. He was knocked out. No, he wasn't going to be the reason why Drake dies. At least not at this time. Damian was going to kill Drake if he died, before he could get help back to him.
Damian took one of the knives from his defeated opponent and held it to his throat. He pressed the blade closer when he heard a voice in the back of his head.
He's out. Go.
Sneering at the truth behind the voice, he dropped the knife and stepped away from the body. Only then did he realize what he'd done. The fight had taken too long. Even if they made it back to the crash site, there wouldn't be enough time to do anything about it.
He'd condemned his brother to death.
Damian leaned heavily against the staff. All of the adrenaline that had been coursing through him was gone and he felt weary. His knee throbbed. He looked down. A small knife was plunged into his skin.
"Damn."
Oracle was busy. She barely had the time to rest. She couldn't remember another time where she was as exhausted. Well, she probably did, but her brain was so addled with caffeine and sleep deprivation, it was a wonder why she hadn't passed out yet.
She leaned over to look at one of her various computer screens. Nothing. Barbara let out an irritated huff and took off her glasses to rub her tired eyes. A crackle was heard over her headset. She raised her hand.
"O here," she said.
"The boys aren't here," Stephanie answered.
Barbara closed her eyes. So much for her lead.
"But there was something interesting that I managed to eavesdrop."
"What would that be?" Her fingers started to rapidly tap on the computer keyboard. There had to be something out there for her to trace. Tim may know how to cover his tracks, but not all of those that he came in contact with couldn't possibly have the technology or the knowhow to cover those tracks like him.
"There was anonymous tip about the smuggling ship. They tried tracing the call, but the funny thing they said was that it seemed to originate from the boat."
"Why would anyone on a smuggling ship call in?" Barbara's attention was half on her bed in the other room.
"That's not all; those that were arrested said that there were two male refugees that managed to get away before the police came. One of the smugglers was trying to give a description on one of them. And the description matched Tim. O, I think that they made it back to the States!"
"What was the description?" Her bed was forgotten.
"Um, black hair blue eyes, not to overly tall. There wasn't much else I could get, before I had the chance to interrogate him, the police took him to the station."
"That could match anyone Steph."
"I know, it's just, I want them to come back home, safe and sound."
"We all do."
The police scanner that sat in her room started to crackle wildly about something. Barbara reached over and turned up the radio.
"-Suspicious single vehicle crash out on county road. Request investigative unit. EMS is already en-route to Gotham Mercy General."
"Identification?"
"None to be found on him. Likely a passersby pickpocketed it without calling it in."
"What rose flags?"
"It looks like a small bomb blew on the road. There's something more behind this accident, I know it."
Barbara ran her fingers through her red hair. She really needed to wash it. But if this was what she thought that it could be, then someone needed to get over to the hospital quickly. Forget any sort of personal hygiene.
"Steph, I need to get back to Gotham as soon as you possibly can and meet me outside Gotham Mercy General."
"You found them?" Steph screeched. Barbara jumped a little and pulled the earpiece out for a moment.
"Just meet me outside the building," Barbara said before signing off and wheeling away. She glanced back at the electronic wiring and monitors. She allowed a half a hope to well up inside her.
She could get her family back. They could be whole again. She could get some sleep. Everyone could get some sleep. She grabbed one of Dick's hats that was lying around and pulled it over her greasy hair. She could make herself pretty later, her brother needed her.
Damian had pulled the knife out earlier. That was the dumbest idea he could have done. Now he was going to bleed out faster and end up like Drake.
No. He wasn't. He was strong. Raised by assassins. Trained by Batman and Nightwing. He would make it down the damned driveway.
Why was it so long?
He held onto the staff. He had kept it in case there were any more secret ninjas that decided to jump out and attack him. But as he travelled further and further down the road, it was clear he was in no condition to be fighting and the staff was only there to hold him up. Every breathe hurt and his leg couldn't support his weight any more. It had to have been the kick. Blood was slipping from between his fingertips and dripped down his shirt onto the ground as he walked.
A part of him wondered what he was going to say when he reached the door. It wouldn't matter, if he never got there to begin with.
He shuffled a little faster.
Dick was leaning on the counter in the kitchen and played with his phone. He was expecting a call from his fiancée any moment. She promised to call after Stephanie had investigated the possible lead that she had found. He hadn't heard back yet. But it hadn't been too long. And yet it had been.
His phone gave a little beep indicating that he had a new text message. Quickly he swiped his phone open and read it.
I'm heading over to the hospital with Steph. There's something that I need to check out. Love you, Babs.
The hospital? Dick felt his heart rate pick up a little bit. Was his brother's back in the states? Were they injured? God, what if one of them was dying?
The doorbell interrupted his endless parade of questions. He got up and walked to the front door. No one was expecting anyone. The public wasn't even aware that he and Jason had even been there the past few days, or had it been the past week. Time was screwing with his head.
He opened the front door and looked out into the yard. There was no one there.
Odd, I didn't think that ding-dong ditchers could get on Bruce's property, Dick thought to himself. He began to go back inside.
"Di-ick."
Dick's heart stopped. He stared down at the steps. His brain for a moment spluttered. It couldn't be. But it was. It really was.
"Little D?" He asked.
The boy was in bad shape. He was bleeding all over the stoop and there was a large bandage on his head. It looked old and it was obviously wrapped by someone with experience. His knee was swollen and discolored.
It only took him a moment to gather Damian in his arms and carry him into the house. He was careful of the stab wound in his side and his head, but rushed towards the Batcave screaming.
"Bruce! Alfred! I need medical attention, STAT!"
The door to the basement level opened and he ran down the stairs without waiting for a reply. He looked down at Damian and saw that his eyes were closed.
"Dami, wake up buddy, c'mon, don't go to sleep." Damian didn't respond. "BRUCE!"
He stopped in the middle of the Batcave floor looking for his adoptive father.
Bruce came running from the stairs and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw just who was being held in Dick's arms. It was only a hairsbreadth before he had taken his little boy from Dick's arms and set him on the medical table. He began to press against his side. Alfred rushed past Dick and began to telling Bruce what needed to be done.
"Master Dick, I need you to grab that gauze over there. Master Dick? RICHARD!"
Dick finally tore his eyes from the small boy on the table.
"The gauze, Master Dick if you please."
"Oh, right," Dick rummaged through the drawers looking for the clean gauze. He finally gripped it and set it near where his family was working.
"Dick," Bruce said looking up at his son. "Call the others. Tell them about Damian. Call in to the hospitals and police stations, see if anyone has seen Tim. If Damian's hurt, then it's likely that Tim didn't escape scotch free. Go."
Dick spun on his feet and ran upstairs to find his phone. He got up to the kitchen and fumbled around with his phone. It slipped from his hands due to the blood. He realized then just what had happened. Tim and Damian had almost made it home before they had been attacked. He started crying. Tears of happiness, tears of sorrow, tears of exhaustion, tears of worry. He stared down at his hands.
They were red. With his baby brother's blood.
Where was Timmy?
He wasn't aware of how long he'd been standing staring at his hands when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Dick," Bruce said softly.
Dick spun around and hugged Bruce tightly, not worrying about blood; it was on both of them. He cried into Bruce's shoulder. He felt Bruce's arms wrap around him as well. It wasn't a tight grip. But it was there and reassuring.
"Damian's going to be fine, Alfred's working on him. He's going to be fine."
"But Tim's out there alone," Dick murmured into his father's shirt.
"Tim'll be fine. He's a brilliant kid remember? He'll make it back."
Dick sniffled. He always did seem to come back. But in how many pieces? He'd already lost his spleen and was susceptible to infections more easily. If he was injured as badly, or worse, than Damian and didn't get to a hospital quick enough, there was the possibility that an infection could kill him. If he didn't bleed out first.
Oh, God. Where is he?
Talia was furious. They had failed to retrieve her son. Bang. The Heretic had failed where he didn't last time and Damian made it to his father. Bang. When they went back to collect Drake's body it was gone and the police were there investigating. Bang. That last one wasn't terribly bad, but she had underestimated the amount of time that it would take for people to find the wreck.
Three bodies lay on the ground and she tossed her gun on top of them.
The worst news of this yet. She had to explain this mess to her father.
"Princess, it would be easy to infiltrate whichever hospital they have Drake and finish the job," one of her lieutenants offered.
"NO. He is in the protected zone of the Bat. Do not waste resources which nature itself will handle."
"Pardon?" He asked.
"Drake is missing a spleen. With no medical records as a John Doe, it will take time to figure out what is needed to treat him. Giving plenty of time for an infection to set in. Do not fret. Even if he manages to survive, he will be of no threat. Such injuries could end a crime fighting career. "
Her lieutenant nodded and continued with his work. Talia boarded her plane and prepared to organize what she was going to say to her father to explain this mess.
"Talia."
She froze. "Father. What brings your presence to my private jet?" She knew the reason. She wasn't surprised that he had followed her. She had just hoped for a little time to organize her thoughts.
"You know. We have much to discuss about your behavior and handling of this situation." He didn't even look up from his wine.
Talia inhaled through her nose. This was going to be a long ride back. And it wasn't going to end well.
A/N: I apologize if any fight scene lacked in any way, I haven't quite mastered that skill yet.