Dick and Harley had a fight.
It wasn't a little one, either, it was a fight in which things were said by both parties that shouldn't have been said, and it shouldn't have been left unresolved. It's a bit rocky, heading out to patrol, but Batman left Dick in charge. What can he do?
When Dick arrives at the circus he doesn't find quite the firefight that he was expecting. Nonetheless, the police called him in to help, and he has a job to do. He just hasn't figured out what his job is yet.
"All call, Batfamily, come in," Nightwing spoke clearly into the comm, barely noticing the cold as he sped through Gotham on his motorcycle.
"Robin already reporting," Damian's voice came over the communicator.
"Location," Nightwing said shortly.
"Uptown Gotham."
"Good." He turned a corner, nearly slipping in the snow. "Red Robin. Spoiler. Blackbat. Respond," he said, his voice commanding. Their phones would have gotten alerts when he sent out the emergency call.
"This had better be important," Spoiler muttered into the comms.
"Red Robin, here," Red Robin responded more seriously.
"Blackbat already out." She continued down the street she'd been patrolling.
"Batgirl, Red Hood; Report," Nightwing said sharply, waiting to give any explanation until they had all received the call.
"Sam was called out," Batgirl replied, "I'm here."
"Good. Slim chance of Red Hood showing his face, right?" Nightwing joked, but Batgirl and the others could hear the edge in his voice. Something was off, and it wasn't the job. "Okay, the Joker was reportedly at Haly's Circus as of twenty minutes ago. Our job is to assist in any way we can, whether that be giving medical attention to those who need it, or apprehending the Joker. Priority one is obvious. Civilians first. But catching that bastard would be nice, too. Questions?" he asked, a bit shortly.
"Yeah, who spit in your bean curd?" Spoiler asked.
"Be professional," Red Robin hissed. He knew that when Nightwing sounded like this, it was best to keep his mouth shut.
"I'll be fine," Nightwing assured her, ignoring his brother.
"Okay," Spoiler shrugged it off.
"Twenty minutes ago?" Robin asked. "There's no telling what the situation is like now. Any news from the cops, Batgirl?"
"When Dad paged Sam, he said they were going to wait for backup to go in quietly rather than storming the circus by force. I can only assume we're backup."
"Sounds about right," Nightwing said, stopping his motorcycle outside of the ring of police vehicles a few hundred feet from the half-finished main tent. "And one more thing. Under no circumstances in the foreseeable future of the next few hours is anyone to alert Batman," he said quietly, walking towards a cluster of officers. "Commissioner Gordon," he said, stopping near them.
"Nightwing," Gordon nodded, "I'm glad you got my call. We don't know the situation inside that well, unknown number of men, possible hostages, suspected Joker toxin at play. I thought you could handle this better."
"Of course, Gordon," he nodded, and then turned away and pressed his comm. "Locations. How far out are you guys?"
"A few minutes," Blackbat said shortly.
"Nearly there," Robin told him.
"It's going to take us a bit," Red Robin answered for him and Spoiler.
"Five minutes, tops," Batgirl assured him. Nightwing bit his lip, knowing that he should wait for backup, but also knowing that every second he wasted just added time to the minutes lost when he and Harley were fighting. Who knew how many of his friends had been hurt since then?
"Upon arrival I want Robin, Batgirl, and Blackbat with me. Red Robin and Spoiler, assist law enforcement," he decided, walking towards the tent and disappearing into the shadows that it cast.
"You're not waiting for backup, are you?" Batgirl asked.
"I can't afford to," he said quietly.
"You should wait for one of us," Robin advised.
"Don't be a numbskull," Spoiler added.
"I've already been informed that I am, in fact, doing everything wrong," he hissed. His voice was quiet, but the deadly tone was just as effective as a shout. "People could be hurt or dead, people that I know and love, and I'm not going to stand around and wait for you to get here while he murders more of my own."
"I can see the circus," Blackbat cut in. "Where are you entering, so I can have your back?"
"Northwest corner of the structure," he replied, relieved at her tone. At least one of them is focused, he thought, again swallowing the pain and guilt and anxiety he felt.
"Robin take a different entrance when you arrive," Blackbat instructed. Robin didn't say anything, but they knew he'd heard.
"Keep us updated," Red Robin requested.
"Can do," Nightwing agreed. He sensed Blackbat come up behind him, and he pulled back a break in the tent to allow her in, following close behind. The tent was quiet and dark, an advantage to them, but a serious red flag. Nightwing glanced at Blackbat. Their view of the half-constructed center ring was blocked by several large storage crates housing equipment and supplies.
"Da da, dada dada, da da da da," someone sang an off pitch circus beat.
"Anyone home?" a man called in the dark.
"Are there any little bats hiding that want to play?" someone else called. "Come out, come out wherever you are!"
"Maybe they're all too scared to show up," another man cried, laughing. The first voice sang louder. Nightwing glanced at Blackbat confusedly, creeping around one storage crate to look out to the center ring.
"Oh ringmaster!" a scrawny man called. There were a half dozen men wandering the center ring. They all had sloppy red smiles painted up their cheeks. "Will you call for attention please?" He prodded the clown Sam in the side with a knife, and Sam cried out in pain.
"Wonderful!" a robust man cried. He was sitting on a crate, his stubby legs swinging. "Again, again!" Blackbat saw Nightwing's eyes narrow furiously. He looked up at the support poles of the tent, ropes dangling from them, and then glanced at her, pointing up. She nodded in understanding. The man who continued to sing the song was lying at center ring, staring up at the top of the tent.
"For my next trick," the scrawny man called out, "I'll make this knife disappear," he warned. Nightwing watched Blackbat vanish into the shadows as she climbed the ropes up into the tent, and then he stepped out into the ring, walking forward slowly.
"I don't think that's a very good idea, guy," he said calmly, watching the man with the knife. All six men focused on him at once, and he could tell something was off. They weren't drunk. Drugged?
"An audience!" the man cried. "And just in time for the show!"
"Nightwing's here!" another man squealed, pushing the man sitting on the box. The man singing smiled and sang louder.
"I don't think there's going to be a show," he stepped closer cautiously. "Are you alright?" Nightwing asked, looking at the clown. Sam nodded. One of the final two men stumbled over toward Nightwing, while the other eyed him like a snake that was about to strike.
"I am alright. Thank you for asking," the stumbling man gushed.
"What happened to you?" Nightwing asked, looking between the six of them. For now, they seemed to be harmless. He kept a wary eye out for the Joker. The stumbling man stopped.
"I don't know," he decided. "One?" He looked at the scrawny man.
"I don't know." One shrugged, scratching his cheek with the knife. The man on the box raised his hand. "Yes Five," he called on the man like a student.
"We were made for a show," Five told him, nodding vigorously. Nightwing looked between them, his eyes narrowing behind his mask.
"What kind of show?" he asked, lifting a hand to signal Blackbat to wait on her attack. "Did the Joker… 'make you'?" Suddenly, the man who had been glaring at him tackled him.
"Three!" Five whined. "You're ruining the show!"
Nightwing threw him off over his head and then jackknifed to his feet, brandishing both escrima sticks. He moved around them so that he was facing all six of the men. "Did the Joker make you?!" he reiterated.
"Well duh," One laughed, scratching his chin with the knife. "Shut up Two." He kicked the man lying down, but he just kept singing. The stumbling man stopped in front of Nightwing.
"I'm Four by the way. It's lovely to meet you, we've heard so much about you."
"Make him do a trick!" the one beside Five, Six, called. Nightwing examined them, his guard raised. He still didn't call on Blackbat. By now, the others would have arrived.
"You said you were made for a show. What do you mean by 'a show'?" he asked.
"We're here to entertain!" Five cried.
"I think my next trick will be," One drew out a lighter, "fire." Six booed him.
"That's already been done before. Remember?" Six asked. "He told us that's been done." Three attacked Nightwing again, charging him with a choked growl. Nightwing used his momentum and spun around him, swinging an escrima stick at the back of his head and knocking him out cold. He turned angrily on the others.
"Is the Joker here?" he demanded.
"Three!" Four cried, staring at his limp friend. "You hurt him!"
"We just wanted to give you a show, and you hurt him," Six added. Two started singing faster as the other four advanced angrily at Nightwing. Sam used their distraction to back slowly from the ring.
"He promised us if we gave you a nice show, none of us would be hurt anymore," One told him. Nightwing backed up a bit.
"That's one thing you should have counted on," he said darkly. "The Joker always lies."
"We just want the pain to stop," One told him, before all four charged him at once. Nightwing dove out of the way and pressed his comm.
"Now is a good time for backup," he said, and then trapped One's arm with his escrima sticks, throwing him to the side. "Try to incapacitate, with as little harm done as possible- they're drugged, somehow, their actions may not be their own."
Blackbat swooped down on Four taking him out, as Robin materialized and hit one of Five's pressure points; he dropped. Six was taken down just as easily.
"This was too easy," Robin muttered. No one could argue. The Joker had played them, but why? Two stopped singing. They glanced over at him as he sat up.
"I have a message," he told them seriously.
Nightwing stared at him warily, walking closer. "And what might that be?"
"I have a message for you," he repeated, staring up at Nightwing. "He says: I bet you wish you stayed home." His face broke out into a sickly grin as he began to laugh.
Nightwing stared on in shock and horror.
'We were made for a show.'
'Make him do a trick!'
'I bet you wish you stayed home.'
"Oh God," he breathed, feeling like all of his breath had rushed out at once. He couldn't take it back in. Two continued to laugh maniacally. Nightwing stumbled a bit and then broke into a run towards the exit, bursting through the flap in the tent and sprinting straight towards his motorcycle. He had it running and speeding away before he was even properly seated, his heart pounding in his chest.
I left her. Alone. If anything happens- what happens- it will be all my fault. Nightwing thought, biting down on his lip. The call, the men- they'd all been a distraction. A show. The Joker had known that Batman would put him in charge. He'd known that he'd be out tonight, but just to be sure- he'd made the distraction the circus. He was exactly where the Joker wanted him.
And she was right where he wanted her, too.
'"Please don't go," she pleaded with him.'
Nightwing pushed the bike faster, tearing through the Gotham streets.
"Nightwing!" Batgirl cried into the comms. "Where are you going?"
"I just left her there!" he practically shouted, fighting to control his panic. "He got what he wanted- me at the circus, and Harley completely unprotected-" There was a moment of silence on the comms.
"We're on our way," Red Robin assured him.
'"I don't want you to go. I don't want to be alone worrying again. Not tonight." She shook her head, looking down.'
Nightwing leapt off of his motorcycle, barely pausing to turn it off before he was running up the front steps. He pulled at the door handle, locked; Nightwing backed up a few steps and threw his weight against the door, breaking the lock as he stumbled in. Snow tracked from his boots over the carpet as he searched the downstairs rooms.
"Harley!?" he shouted, taking the stairs two at a time. Wally and Clark sat up from where they were laying in front of the bedroom door, and Dick knelt beside them, his gloved hands tracing over the deep scratches clawed into the bottom of the door. Despite the warmth of the house, Dick felt cold to his very core as he stood in the dark. He turned the knob and pushed the door open.
The light from the streetlamps outside fell over the crimson blood stains on the carpet from the open window; the curtains billowing slightly from the frigid air as ghostly little flakes of snow gently fell from the night outside. The snow was piling on the window frame, slowly covering the streaks of blood. The bed was still messy from where they had been, just an hour ago, lying there laughing and holding each other. In the glow of the street lights Dick could see a joker card resting on his pillow, and as he moved closer, something shone on it's surface.
Harley's engagement ring was placed delicately over the face of the smiling jester on the bloodstained card.