A/N: Thanks for the reviews, mystery guest and jmichallick! :)
The Batcave:
Batman, for some inexplicable reason, had a small flame of worry burning in his chest. It was a normal Thursday night, there was no Bat-signal – yet – and he hadn't received any news about breakouts or riots from any prisons. He also hadn't received any calls from the commissioner, so he was preparing for a normal night of patrolling the city. There was absolutely no reason to be worried.
But he was. The hero couldn't explain it, couldn't justify it, but also couldn't push it away. He was probably just being paranoid. About what, he had no idea.
The night turned out to be anything but normal. It was uneventful; he didn't have to jump in the middle of any gang wars, or foil any nefarious plots by random villains, or even stop a mugging. Batman was still fresh and uninjured when he climbed out of the Batmobile after a boring four hours of patrol.
Boredom begat fatigue, and Bruce probably could have fallen asleep rather quickly. However, there was that small flame of worry, which had turned into a nagging pulse in the back of his mind. Pulling out his cellphone as he walked up the stairs, Bruce typed in a familiar number. After five rings, Dick's cheery voice told him to leave a message. He had no reason to worry about that, though, because Nightwing was probably just heading home from patrol. Which meant he wouldn't be answering Dick Grayson's phone.
Was there something going on tomorrow that he had forgotten about? A meeting he wasn't prepared for, perhaps? Bruce searched his memory but couldn't think of anything at Wayne Enterprises that would merit this sort of concern.
"Maybe it's indigestion," he grumbled as he climbed into bed.
Closing his eyes, Bruce began slowly counting backward from one hundred. It took longer to fall asleep than it usually did, but he was softly snoring before he made it to sixty.
The next morning – Bludhaven Mercy Hospital:
"Well, he made it through the night," George muttered as he attempted to wake Nightwing up for the eighth time in ten hours.
The young hero's entire right leg was encased in a cast. His ribs were loosely wrapped to help the three broken ones heal. And those were the only things they had been able to see on the x-ray. His skull was intact, but that didn't mean he wasn't bleeding. Broken ribs couldn't tell them if he was bleeding internally. Nightwing's breathing was a little raspy, but no blood had been coming through his airways, which was a good sign. Now they just needed him to wake up so he could tell them where he was hurting and how much it hurt.
Wayne Manor:
Bruce Wayne subscribed to both the 'Gotham Gazette' and the 'Bludhaven Bugle'. Every morning, he checked the 'Bugle' for news about either Dick Grayson the police officer or Nightwing the hero. Rarely was there a morning where either name was mentioned.
Fortunately for Dick, the man who had taken the picture at the scene of the accident had needed money. So, he had sold the picture to the 'Bugle' for fifteen dollars. Unfortunately for Dick, almost everyone in Bludhaven was either corrupt or apathetic, so the picture of Nightwing lying motionless in the street was buried on page sixteen. It was so small, and the caption underneath it so short, that Bruce didn't even see it as he rifled through the paper.
Bludhaven Mercy:
Nightwing made it through the day, also. His condition didn't change, and there was nothing Dr. Michaels or his staff could do to help it, but at least he wasn't going downhill. Herb had been working the phones, as George had called it, but was having no success. Nobody he talked to knew where Nightwing had come from, so nobody had any relevant information to give him.
Wayne Manor:
The worry was back. It had fled during the night, but now it was a solid ball of concern in his chest. Bruce called the commissioner, as Batman of course, but Gordon hadn't heard of any recent villainous activity. He called Dick, but it went to voicemail. That wasn't unusual; it was Friday morning and Dick was probably already at work.
Bruce had an uneventful day at Wayne Enterprises. He had been prepared for every meeting and no unexpected things had popped up. Obviously the worry had not been about something at work. So now here he was at home, filling out some paperwork and waiting for Dick to call.
It was Friday night. Dick always called on Friday night to confirm their normal Sunday dinner. But it was seven o'clock, and Dick hadn't called. Maybe he was working late, or had been called in for some reason. Perhaps he was taking a shower or getting some rest in before going back out as Nightwing. There was no reason to be concerned, even though Dick always called at six o'clock on the dot. He was just late, that was all. People were allowed to be late. Dick had a busy life of his own. It was actually surprising to Bruce that the young man had never called late in the six months since he had left the Manor. Everything was fine.
Eight o'clock came and went with no word from Dick. Not even a quick text explaining away his tardiness. The ball of concern was a full-fledged, raging fire in his chest, but Bruce decided to give his son one more hour.
Nine o'clock. A few more minutes, because there was always crime in Bludhaven and perhaps Dick had been forced to go home, change directly into Nightwing, and go out again.
Bruce gave up when he checked the clock for the fourth time in two minutes.
"Alfred, I'm going down early," he called from the study door.
Without waiting for his faithful butler's reply, Bruce ran to the Batpoles and slid down. Batman went directly to the Current Criminal Activity Unit and input a single word: Bludhaven. He impatiently waited a long ninety seconds for the familiar 'ding' as a card slid from the output slot.
He quickly snatched it up and read it. Normal crimes – muggings, break-ins, attempted murder, assault on a police…
"Dick!" he exclaimed.
"Master Batman?" Alfred inquired as he walked into the Batcave.
"Bludhaven, assault on an officer, Dick is an officer!" the hero yelled, lifting his head.
"What are you waiting for, sir? Go!"
Batman sprinted to the Batmobile, practically jumped in, and blasted through the tunnel. Bludhaven was exactly thirty-three and a half minutes away, but Batman made it to the police station in twenty. Most citizens of both cities knew better than to be out after nine o'clock, so the hero wasn't worried about speed limits, red lights, stop signs, or oblivious pedestrians.
The Caped Crusader strode into the station and straight up to the reception desk.
"Can I help you?" the officer stated, his voice filled with boredom as he stared down at a form he was filling out.
"I…"
The officer flipped his head up when he heard the single word, shock in his eyes.
"Uh, Batman? What are you doing here?"
"I heard about some unusual activity and decided to investigate," he answered, skating around the truth.
"Unusual activity?"
The policeman began typing on his computer. His eyes swiftly shifted back and forth as he read, then he began shaking his head.
"Dispatch hasn't received anything unusual," he replied.
"Print it," Batman commanded.
"I can read it quicker," the man responded. "Breaking and entering with attempted robbery, a drug deal gone bad, and assault. That's it."
"Give me the details on the assault."
The man clicked on the offense, read a little, then said, "Oh."
"Oh?!" Batman exclaimed. "Oh what?!"
"One of our officers, but it doesn't have a name yet. Shot, taken to Bludhaven General. This was earlier in the day, let me check our time sheets."
He clicked a few more times while Batman tried to read the man's neutral expression.
"Dick Grayson hasn't checked in today. But that doesn't mean…"
The officer turned his gaze from his screen back to Batman, but the hero was already gone.
Eight minutes later Batman was striding through the front doors of Bludhaven General Hospital. The person at the reception desk almost stood up and ran away, assuming the Caped Crusader was here for him. Then he realized that he had done nothing wrong, so it was a stupid assumption.
"Where is Dick Grayson?" Batman demanded.
"I, um, hold on, let me check our records. Please give me a few moments."
The man sounded terrified, and the last sentence was more of a question. It took longer than a few moments, and the already impatient Batman was becoming more frustrated by the second. A question came to him while he was waiting: why hadn't the hospital called Bruce Wayne?
"Uh, there's nobody here by that name, sir. I can't, um, help you, uh, sorry."
"WHAT?" Batman exploded. "There was an assault on a police officer earlier today!"
"Grayson is not the only officer in this city."
Batman turned around and came face-to-face with an angry chief of police.
"I won't tell you my wounded officer's name, but I will tell you that he's not Grayson. That rookie didn't even show up for work today. His partner is lying in a hospital bed because he didn't have someone backing him up!"
Fury raced through Batman's body, but it was washed away by concern. A villain had him. No, Dick was just sick and didn't have the energy to get up and call in. Or he was lying in an alleyway dying. No, he was probably in his apartment, resting to heal some injury he had received as Nightwing. But Nightwing never rested to heal any kind of injury unless it was something that required the services of Alfred. And Nightwing had not come to the Batcave last night or Wayne Manor this morning.
"Did you try to find out why Grayson didn't show up?" he snapped, the fury back and filling his tone.
"I've been a little busy being the Chief of Police," the man retorted.
Without replying, Batman turned his back on the man and strode toward the door. His next stop was Dick's apartment.
Bludhaven Mercy:
Dr. Michaels walked through the hospital, checking all the patients one last time before going home. Most of the druggies were still being flushed, the homeless man who had come in with chest pains was fading, and Nightwing was still motionless. He was pale, but not because of blood loss. That had been taken care of before they had taken him to the x-ray room last night. His pulse was thready and his breathing more wheezy than raspy. But he was alive.
"George, call me if he wakes up. I need to know what happened as soon as possible. Call me, then keep him awake."
"You got it, Doc," the nurse replied. "I doubt he's going to, but I'll keep trying."
"Herb?" the doctor inquired.
"No luck," George responded. "He's called all his contacts and has asked them to call all their contacts. If there's any kind of connection to find, Herb's army of volunteers will find it."
"Okay," Dr. Michaels responded with a sigh of resignation. "We need to get better funding."
The last sentence was almost inaudible, because the man knew that nobody would want to fund Bludhaven Mercy Hospital enough that they could buy adequate machinery.
"And care less about whether or not a hero has any flipping insurance," George muttered angrily as the doctor walked away. "He takes care of this entire city, but General refuses to take care of him and we don't have the proper resources. Crappy way to say thank you. Nightwing, you really need to wake up," he stated a little louder.
The apartment of Dick Grayson:
The door was locked, but Batman easily picked it and walked inside. It was dark and quiet. He flipped on the light switch and glanced around. Seeing nothing unusual in the main room, he went into the kitchen. There was a bowl in the sink and some breadcrumbs on the counter, but nothing concerning. Turning around, he went to the bedroom, hoping to find a sick young man sleeping.
Nobody was in the bedroom or the bathroom. Batman stopped by the bed and glared at the sheet and blanket. There was no recent imprint, but Dick wasn't a heavy man so that wasn't unusual.
The hero turned to the closet and sifted through the clothing. Some civilian clothes and two police uniforms. He pulled the hook on the inside wall and watched the hidden panel slide open. Nightwing's uniform was gone.
"At least you can defend yourself," he murmured.
Nightwing could fight better than Dick Grayson, so the fact that he was currently Nightwing was good. But, somebody had been able to either defeat the younger hero – and possibly take him – or injure him enough that he couldn't get home. Time to interrogate some villains.
Bludhaven Mercy:
Nightwing's pulse slowed down significantly, dipping below the already-dangerous level of sixty beats per minute. His wheezy breaths became infrequent gasps, and George ordered Wendy to call Dr. Michaels. Then he began preparing a ventilator, because he was almost positive that the doctor would decide to do that procedure.
George was right. Dr. Michaels was in the hospital sixteen minutes after Wendy called, and the three of them worked together to put Nightwing on life support.