Hello everyone! Sorry this update took over a week. I was camping, and then I decided to try a little harder to make the writing better. Thank you for those who reviewed :) You are all very sweet 3 This is for you guys

He was concentrating on the lulling head of his 3rd son when all body language of the men surrounding him indicated action behind him. He turned, arms drawn and ready when he felt something large collide with him, sending him flying almost ten feet. While he was flung backwards through the air, in the 2.5 seconds it took, he deduced what had happened.

The object that had been thrown into him was Nightwing, and whatever had done it was powerful (hence being thrown just over ten feet). He also noticed as they landed, Nightwing on top of him, that his oldest was completely limp. Deciding that he was unharmed by the impact, he sat up, dragging the upper body of Dick with him as he did, and contemplated his next move. All at once his senses took in the surroundings. Trafkensk was screaming above him. Very angry disappointed screaming by an obviously raving lunatic who's plan had been throttled. Under normal circumstances, that sound was usually like music to his ears. Considering, though, that it was because his son had taken whatever shot had been made for him, there was no celebration to be had in that.

Next to Trafkensk, Tim laid unmoving, and Batman wasn't sure if he was unconscious or just injured.

The henchmen that were still standing from the previous battle were advancing on him. Normally he would have been up and at them, but the limp body in his arms concerned him. Nightwing was completely limp. Not 'ouch, give me a minute Batman' kind of limp that in moments would have his boys wiggling like a fish in his arms when they were injured worse than they wanted to admit. No, the boneless heap in his arms had absolutely no assisting muscles at all.

He was between a rock an hard place. Could he fight and manage to keep his boys alive at the same time? What if Dick needed immediate assistance? What if Trafkensk managed to kill Tim before he could get there?

Before he got the chance to choose, he heard another shot ring out and noticed that the angry yelling had stopped.

"Nice shot, boy, but you'll have to try harder than that," Trafkensk growled, landing from a jump. An all too recognizable figure stepped out of the shadows, holding a gun, and landed a hefty kick into the henchman closest to Batman. Bruce couldn't remember a time when he was more happy to see his wayward son show up shooting a gun.

There was a loud whistle and almost immediately Trafkensk's men started retreating. Within seconds the warehouse was empty except for the Bat clan, with a voice echoing a goodbye.

"This isn't over Batman."

Every instinct in Batman told him to follow after. Capture the man and bring him to Justice. Interrogate him. Do anything to stop him. But the burden in his arms kept him still.

For the first time since Nightwing had been thrown into him, Batman could finally take a moment to look over him.

"Red Hood, check Red Robin," he ordered.

"The kids' fine. Getting up off his lazy ass now."

"What are you doing here, Hood?" Tim called, clearly irritated. He jumped down beside Batman as Jason stepped forward.

"Heard some hired gun was out to kill Bats tonight. Thought I would come and enjoy the show." He said simply. "Didn't think I'd actually have to save your butts or anything."

"We were fine," Tim growled, and as he did he looked over at his mentor and fallen brother, and his eyes grew wide. "Nightwing!"

Dick was still as limp and still as he had been the moment he was thrown into Batman only minutes before. Really had it only been minutes? It had felt like hours.

There were no outward wounds, nothing he could see to explain his unconsciousness. There was no entrance wound from whatever gun had been used. It had obviously not used bullets. What had it been? The idea of what it could be terrified him.

He covered Nightwing with his cape and did something he rarely did. Ripping off Nightwings mask, he needed to get a look at his face. What he saw ran his blood cold.

For a moment Bruce thought he was dead, half lidded eyes staring completely unseeing. But he could hear him breathing, though shallow, and a quick check to his pulse proved a slow heartbeat. Not great, but he wasn't crashing.

He'd seen dead eyes, before. And Dicks eyes were dead.

"What's wrong? He's fine, isn't he? He's not bleeding," Tim said, stepping closer. Bruce hurried and ran his fingers over Dick's eyes and closed them before Tim could see.

"I don't know," Batman answered.

"I demand to know what is going on here. Is Golden boy dead?" Jason's asked casually, his voice echoing through the warehouse. If Jason had not been exactly like him, he would have never known that inwardly Jason was also scared to death.

"No."

"No? You mean no thanks to you?" Jason's voice raised. "What were you doing exactly when this happened? Letting Nightwing take a bullet for you?"

"Now isn't the time," Bruce hissed as he put his arm under Dick's knees. Bridal style was not the easiest way to carry someone, nor was it the humble way, but Dick wasn't coherent enough to know and it was the best way to jostle him the least. He just didn't know what was going on, and he didn't want to take any chances. "Tim, call Alfred. Tell him to get Leslie over at the Batcave asap."

Thankfully, Tim and Dick had driven the batmobile over in case they needed it. If the situation had gone any smoother than it had, Jason was sure Batman would have taken Dick's emergency key.

Once they got to the batmobile, Batman opened the back seat and motioned Tim to crawl in. Before placing Nightwing in he looked back at Jason with his famous bat talk and asked 'are you coming?' with no words.

Jason shrugged and threw his hands up. "Whatever. Someone who didn't screw up tonight needs to make sure Dickie-bird makes it through this." And with that he crawled into the backseat and helped Batman lay Nightwing across his legs, with his head in Tim's lap.

Tim wasted no time in looking Dick over more carefully, and Jason was grateful for that. Jason knew the basics when it came to someone getting injured and how to treat it, but everything else he left up to Alfred. Tim and Bruce knew a little bit more than that. But Bruce hadn't divulged any information. Tim was more talkative.

"Who was that guy?" Jason asked once Bruce had gotten in and was making his way to the manor.

"Trafkensk, a very specialized hitman from Russia. Leads a small group of rebels and is trying to create his own country," Batman answered automatically. "Honestly haven't bothered learning more than that. The man hasn't taken jobs outside Asia and Europe and stays under the radar."

Tim was tapping Dick's cheeks and calling his name in different tones as he probed his chest. The complete unresponsiveness unnerved Jason. "Did he hint to who hired him?" he asked, trying to distract himself.

"A little. It had nothing to do with Gotham, that I gathered. I suspect this goes above that and all the way to the league."

"The Justice League?" Jason raised an eyebrow, and noticed from the corner of his eye that Tim had a small penlight out. "Does that mean your superhero friends have hitman on them too?"

"I don't-"

"Does no one care that something is seriously wrong with Nightwing?" Tim interrupted, practically screeching. "There is no injury anywhere that I can find. Nothing to explain why he's unconscious. And his eyes! Bruce! His eyes aren't responding at all to light! Do you know what that could mean, Bruce? This doesn't make sense-"

"Tim, please," Batman rasped. "We have no idea-"

"- and you guys are just going on about who that guy is, and who hired him and whatnot! Who cares right now!? Shouldn't we be going after that guy with the gun? I need to get my hands on that gun!"

"Tim!" Jason yelled, shaking him. He stopped shouting and took a deep breath. His hand was curled around Nightwings.

"Tim," Bruce started again. "It's all connected. Someone supplied Trafkensk with that gun. We find out who that is, we can get that gun a lot easier."

"Easier?" Tim gasped. "We need faster!"

"Master Bruce," Alfred's voice came over the batmobile speakers. Jason looked outside the car to find that they were pulling into the Batcave. That was unbelievably fast. What speed was Batman going?!

"Is Leslie here?"

"She is on her way, sir. But I am surprised to see you driving. I was under the impression she was coming for you." They had pulled completely into the Batcave, and they could see Alfred waiting nearby with his headset on.

"No, Alfred."

As the car came to a stop, Jason wasted no time in getting out and running around to the other side where Tim was quickly pulling Dick out on his own. Dick was short and lean, sure, but he was also very muscular and Tim was still a teen.

"Master Richard!" Alfred gasped, motioning Jason and Tim, who were carrying Dick between them, over to the med table he had readied.

"What happened to Grayson?" Damian's voice rang out grumpily as he entered the Batcave. He was in his pajamas and he looked like he had just woken up.

"We'll explain later, Damian. Alfred, how close is Leslie?" Bruce asked as they started to unzip Nightwings suit.

"I'm afraid sir that we haven't put a tracker on her quite yet," Alfred replied with a little hint of sarcasm. "It's the middle of the night, so I would give her a couple more minutes."

"I demand I be explained to now," Damian marched up to the group, determined. "This was supposed to be simple. Why is Grayson unconscious? What is wrong? He looks ok to me."

"We don't know what is wrong, Damian," Tim answered impatiently. "And I'm not exactly sure what happened. Trafkensk, the guy who hired those guys that captured Batman earlier, got a good hit to my head and I missed a good couple minutes."

"I got there after it happened," Jason hurried and explained before the brat could ask him.

"Father?" he asked, glaring.

"Where is Leslie?!" Bruce practically yelled, a growl in his voice. Luckily, just as he said that, Leslie's arrival was being announced via zeta tube.

"Tell me what's happened," she jogged in. Everyone looked to Bruce in agreement and Bruce tried to relax as she began attending Dick.

He explained everything as he saw it, with TIm and Jason filling in their own parts.

Not a second later Leslie was shooing them all away. He needed to work without them looking over her shoulder. She was more efficient that way.

"I'm calling the league," Batman said as he made his way over to the computer.

"I can't believe you call yourselves heroes. Letting those fools get the better of you tonight," Damian huffed angrily before Batman turned and started the call to the watchtower.

"This all happened really fast, Damian. We didn't have much time to come up with a plan. Plus, we had no idea who we were dealing with. It's not like you fared any better than we did." Tim defended.

"T-t"

The three brothers stood there in silence while Leslie and Alfred worked on one side of the Batcave and Batman was talking with various league members on the other side. It felt like forever before Bruce ended his call and approached them.

"No one else has been attacked as far as they know. They are looking into it right now." Batman started. "I'll be doing what I can on this end."

"Bruce," Leslie suddenly said, making her way over to them.

"What is the status, Leslie?"

Her expression was unreadable. "I'm sorry Bruce. I don't know what to tell you. I don't really know what is going on. The only thing I can tell you is this. His brain is completely unresponsive, and his vitals are slowly dropping. The closest thing I can call what is happening is a coma."

"What kind of coma?" Tim asked solemnly.

It looked like all light in her eyes had disappeared. "One I don't know if he'll wake from. He's dying."

I know next to nothing about medical stuff. Sorry

The more I write this I wonder if I should change the category to Batman. What do you guys think?