Warning: Some Language . . .
"Did you hear me," he said, looking up. He saw her standing there and paused, contemplating the wide-eyed, gaping shock on her face. "What?" he asked. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"
She moved slowly around the door and to the front of the car. He turned to face her. She looked gobsmacked; like someone had hit her in the head with a two-by-four. Had she hit her head during the attack? He was beginning to think that he should have checked her physically for injuries rather than just visually, but he honestly didn't think she had been seriously hurt; just roughed up a bit and frightened.
"How did I not see it immediately," she asked in an awe-laden voice; her gaze searching his face. "Now that I know, it is so obvious!"
Nightwing blinked behind his lenses. "I don't understand," he said carefully. "What's obvious?"
Elle continued as if she were talking to herself. One hand moved up to touch his hair; to trace his jawline. "Everything is there! It's all the same, and yet I had no idea; no clue at all until just now."
He raised a hand and gently caught her wrist. He pulled it down, but didn't let go of it. He suddenly knew exactly what she was talking about, but he continued to play dumb . . . Just in case. He didn't want to confirm something, only to discover afterwards that she had been talking about something else entirely.
"No clue about what, exactly?"
She was shivering, he noted. The long-sleeved, silk blouse she was wearing with wool slacks wasn't enough coverage to ward off the cold.
"The eyes see only what they expect to see," she said, blinking; her eyes focusing on his behind their lenses. "When you showed up and I turned around, I only saw a blur at first. Then I realized who the costume and mask belonged to, and it was as if that was all I could see. I recognized Nightwing, and even though in the back of my mind, I noticed that you had the same height and build; the same hair and jawline; the same mouth and ears and breadth of shoulders . . . My God, even your ass looked familiar!"
Nightwing smiled, in spite of himself. "You were looking at my ass?"
Elle slapped a hand over her mouth and laughed, even as she shuddered with cold. She shook her head in complete amazement.
"It's hilarious, really, wh-when you think about it," she grinned, delighted. "I was sitting in the car just n-now, feeling guilty as I was mentally comparing the . . . the two of you, and it didn't even c-click until you s-spoke."
Okay, he thought, she knows. Even if she didn't come right out and use names, he knew that she had him pegged. He frowned, unsure if he should be upset or relieved. Although he had acknowledged already that he would have to tell her, he hadn't expected to do so just yet. He realized, however, he should have just come right out immediately and admitted it as soon as he understood that this was going to be forever between them. Well, as soon as she was home from the hospital . . . or maybe the night she had forgiven him and finally deigned to speak to him again . . .
He sighed. Okay, the morning after . . . Definitely, he should have said something the morning after. Although how he might have done that all considering the events of the morning after, he wasn't sure.
Oh, by the way, he could have told her as he made love to her with the dawn's rays spilling over their naked bodies, I'm not actually working the nightshift for the department. I'm actually the masked vigilante that you dressed up as for Halloween. I run about on rooftops in that skin-tight costume that you had so admired and kick criminals' asses.
Yeah, he was pretty sure that would have been a mood-killer.
And the perfect week they had enjoyed between that moment and this wouldn't have happened. He was pretty sure, in fact, that it would have been a replay of the four days of silence he had already endured, and quite possibly meant more sneaking past her building's security, and picking the brand-new lock he was positive Elle would have installed within the hour upon that announcement.
He couldn't help but wonder if his assumption was going to be prophetic of their immediate future. Her delight in her discovery was going to stall as information finally began to settle in. Any moment now . . . Here it comes; in three, two, one . . .
The joy in her eyes slowly seeped away as her brows came down. Her infectious smile disappeared as her lips flattened in consternation.
"Wh-when were you p-planning on telling me," she asked. The chill in her tone made the twenty degree weather feel almost balmy. "Or d-didn't you think I had a r-right to know?"
"You should put on your coat now," he said, noticing how violently she was shuddering now. The wind was picking up a bit. "Where is it?"
"Wh-what?" She was stammering. Her teeth had begun chattering quite a while ago.
He glanced around the parking lot and quickly located it halfway between the car and the fence where the three would-be rapists were cuffed. His jaw clenched as the memory of Elle fighting for her life flashed before his eyes again. A growl rose up in his throat. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone with those three for the next thirty minutes. Ten minutes with each of them would guarantee that thoughts of women never again crossed their minds without the corresponding loosening of the bowels immediately following suit.
"D-Dick!"
"No names," he snapped at her.
He winced when she flinched at his anger. It was enough to cool his temper, however. He wasn't angry with her . . . Just with the situation; with Brian and Igor and every other man that worked in the club with her that failed to walk her out and make certain that she wasn't stranded in a deserted parking lot in the middle of the night in a town that could still make most grown men shit their pants after dark. Nightwing shook his head . . . Grown men were afraid, but not his Elle. He sighed. Never Elle.
"Wait here," he barked, but his tone was softer this time.
He walked to the coat, and bent to pick it up. It was tan and made of a quality wool that was soft and warm. And it had flecks of blood across it. There were more dark spots staining the pavement in the light of the streetlamps a couple of yards away. He ran his gloved thumb across the damp spots on the coat. This was someone else's blood, he determined based upon his quick assessment of Elle's injuries. It belonged to one of those men. Blood that Elle herself had drawn from one of them.
That blood; those spots near where her purse lay . . . That belonged to Elle. It wasn't much, all considering, but every drop of her blood was precious. If she needed blood, there was no place in the city that had a supply of it that she could use; no one who could save her life except him, and he was limited to just a pint at a time.
He kept a small supply in his apartment. Just a couple of pints was all. If he needed more than that, he was up shit creek anyway. He knew Bruce kept a larger supply of his blood on hand in the Batcave, but even then when all was said and done, Bruce himself shared his blood type and was compatible should Nightwing need more. But Elle only had him.
He would start tomorrow, he determined as he moved to retrieve her bag. He would collect a pint for Elle every two weeks until he had at least six pints of his blood on hand for her express use. He should get her to give blood once a month, and have it kept in storage at the hospital if ever there was a time he couldn't be there. Four pints of her own precious bagged blood against the probability that she might become seriously injured a second time in city that routinely bled out its own lifeblood in its alleyways every night.
When he turned back to Elle, he saw she was sitting in the open door of her car in the driver's seat. He could see her shivering even from a distance. He trotted over to her with her belongings in his hands. Even roughed up, Elle's classic elegance shone through, making the sight of her sitting in that car-shaped piece of scrap metal incongruous at best.
He sat her bag down on the pavement between her feet as he helped her on with her coat; sliding first one arm and then the other into the sleeves as if she were a child. Hair tousled and a slight scrape on her chin did nothing to hide her beauty; but the combination of the adrenaline crash and the bitter cold had made her clumsy. He needed to get her home.
He buttoned up the coat, and then turned to close the hood of the car. He hadn't fixed it, though if he took the time, he knew he could with some effort. The vehicle had seen better days and needed a slew of new parts. He still hated the thing, ridiculous as it sounded to blame an inanimate object for the bad decision made by its owners, but twice this hunk of junk had created the circumstances that had put Elle into danger. If he had his way, he would drive it off of the pier down by the docks and let the fish have it.
He didn't understand why she liked this piece of crap she called a car except that he thought that maybe she believed it gave her some measure of freedom without leaving her beholden to her father. That, he knew, was important to her. And it was like what she had told Damian about how she felt about him weeks ago; he loved her, and because he loved her, whatever was important to her also became important to him.
His eyes found his girlfriend through the windshield as he slammed the hood down. She wasn't looking at him, but staring off into the distance. She was in shock, and the effects of it were just beginning to show. He had planned to take her to her apartment, but he had more medical supplies at his place, and it wasn't as if he had anything to hide from her anymore.
He hadn't talked to Babs in months. He seldom, if ever, relied on Oracle anymore as a result, even though making use of her skills and connections would make his nightwork a whole hell of a lot easier. It just hadn't been comfortable, and although Bruce was an expert at separating his emotions from his night personae, Dick wasn't nearly as proficient at it.
He tapped the comlink, expecting a certain measure of discomfort, but interestingly all he felt was a vague sense of awkwardness.
"Oracle." Bab's voice floated into his ear. "Nightwing? What's wrong?"
Maybe he would have found a certain satisfaction at the concern he could hear in her voice a few months ago, but right now all he felt was gratitude that she picked up his call. His gaze fell on Elle, and his worry ratcheted up a notch as he noticed her beginning to nod off. It was too cold to just fall asleep normally, and drowsiness was a sign of hypothermia. He moved around so that he could see if she was still shivering, whether her pallor had improved or worsened, or if her lips were turning blue.
"Nightwing? Dick, are you all right?"
He hadn't given Babs any reason to believe he was injured, but after not hearing from him in months and the fact that he was slow to answer, Dick thought he understood her assumption.
"Oracle," he said. He wanted this to remain professional. "I need you to contact the Bludhaven Police Department for me. Tell them there is a pick up at my location; three perps. Aggravated assault, attempted robbery, and . . ." his temper flared again when he considered what might have happened had he decided to swing by her apartment instead of coming here first. "Attempted rape," he said, ending on a growl.
After all, how hard would it have been to grab the bag out of her hand and run? The car was an obvious waste of time, and even Elle's assailants had realized that. There was only one thing left that they could have wanted from her.
"You could have contacted them yourself. What's going on? Are you injured?"
"I'm busy with the victim. She's showing signs of emotional shock and mild hypothermia. It's too dangerous to leave her waiting in the cold for the police to arrive."
She wasn't shivering anymore. Dick doubted the coat had a chance to warm her that much yet. It was impossible to tell the color of her lips because of the lipstick she was still wearing. He pulled a tissue out of her bag, and wiped the makeup away. Damn! The lipstick stain was interfering. They looked purple, he thought. The low level lighting out here also made it difficult to tell the color, but he thought they looked darker than they should. Her skin was still pasty pale.
"What hospital are you taking her to so that I can relay that information to the police? They can meet her there and get her statement."
He pulled off his gloves and picked up Elle's hand. It was like ice. He began chaffing it; a worthless attempt to draw blood to it. That wasn't what she needed now anyway. Drawing the blood to the extremities would only cool it, when right now it was receding to her body in an effort to retain its heat and prevent her organs from failing. Still, she wasn't into a truly dangerous level . . . yet.
"I'm not taking her to the hospital," he said. "I'm taking her home. Let the police know that she will be in in the morning to press charges and give a statement."
"You know her? The victim, I mean." Curiosity laced the words. He wasn't paying that close of attention, but it was enough that it broke through his distraction.
"I know her," he confirmed.
"You realize you might just be risking your identity by taking her home, don't you? She might figure out who you are if you show you know her well enough to have her address."
Dick frowned. Curiosity and was that a hint of jealousy? Considering how she had been treating him for the last ten, or was it eleven, months now, he was a little bit stunned. And amused. How ironic that she should become jealous of some amorphous female after he had already given his heart away to another. He almost laughed, but Elle chose that moment to pitch forward.
His heart did a little flip, but she was already coming around. She still seemed dazed and a bit out of it to him though. He wasn't sure how much of her stupor was from shock or from a dangerously low body temperature while out here. He didn't want to take her to a hospital again, if he could avoid it.
"Elle, can you hear me? Talk to me," he demanded.
Relief flooded him as her eyes focused on him, even briefly.
"H-how long? How long h-have you b-been . . ." She stuttered, but her teeth had stopped chattering. Not a good sign, but she wasn't as completely out of it as he had feared.
"Sh. Not here," he interrupted her; reminding her of their insecure surroundings.
Tension eased a bit as she nodded in understanding. No, she didn't need a hospital. She needed some warm milk and an electric blanket and to be pressed up against him while under it . . . And if that wasn't enough, he could think of some aerobic exercise they could try to get her blood pumping and her body temperature elevated. His lips quirked up at the idea.
"Oh my God! She knows? What the hell, Dick?" Oracle's voice sounded shocked. "Does Bruce know about this?"
Dick sighed. He forgot that she would be able to overhear his conversation; another sign of his distraction. It was just as well. He was done for the evening anyway. "Did you contact the police yet?"
There was a pause as Babs considered what his silence on the subject might mean. "I did. They should be arriving soon," she said.
"You obviously don't know Bludhaven's police force all that well. Thanks for that. Nightwing out." Nightwing broke the connection and turned the comlink off.
Taking Elle's key to the restaurant, Nightwing picked up her bag and then picked up Elle. She hung over his shoulder slightly, but was alert enough to lift herself a bit as he trotted off for warmer climes. He would scrounge some civilian clothing out of the back of the club and call for a cab. Once Elle was warm and comfortable and resting, Nightwing would go back out and collect his bike.
He didn't dare leave it until morning. This was Bludhaven, after all.
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