"What do you mean Damian is gone," Batman asked, even his steady tone betraying the urgency in his voice.
"I mean he's gone! He's not in his room, he's not in the manor, and the tracker from his utility belt was dumped where the rest of his uniform should be!" Barbra replied, her voice rising with panic though she struggled to keep it level. "Shit shit shit…!"
"Calm down, Babs, we'll find him," Nightwing said swinging down into an alleyway. "In his condition he couldn't have gotten too terribly far."
"I wouldn't necessarily put your bets on that," Batman replied. "With his tenacity, he'd find a way to get anywhere, no matter the barriers in his way."
"God…I should have kept a closer eye on him," Barbra moaned, dropping her face into her hands. "I know he's like this, how could I have been so stupid?!"
"Don't blame yourself, Barbra, it's not your fault," Tim chimed in. "We're four of the best trackers in the city; we'll find him.
"Alright, listen up:" Batman's voice cut through as he took charge of the situation, "No one goes home until we find Damian. Stay in your sector and keep in contact. Immediately report any clues you find. Now fan out!"
Jason darted over the rooftops, his ears trained to every noise. The screen of his hooded mask obscured his vision, bathing everything in a red hue. Great for tracking the blood of an escaping convict, but not great for seeing in this dim of light.
He jumped down off an industrial HVAC unit and paused again to try to listen. He pulled the red hood off his head to try to hear better, as well as catch his breath from under the stuffy face shield. Wind tufted through his hair, but the only message it carried was the sound of the dense Friday night traffic, and the general reek that this city naturally seemed to emit. He strained his ears to try to listen anywhere for a clue—anything that might help find Damien.
A crash came from the alleyway on the other side of the building. Jason jumped and ran over to the end of the roof, leaning over the edge to try to see into the dark. A figure was moving down there, he could see that much, and they were making a lot of noise with the trash cans but as far as what was happening in front of him, it was anyone's guess.
Red Hood pushed his mask back down over his head and jumped down into the alley in front of the figure. He yanked his pistols out of the holsters on his hips. "Alright, you Son of a Bitch, whoever you are, I am not in the mood to put up with your bullshit! So come out peacefully or this is gonna get ugly real quick."
The blinding city lights streaming into the alleyway washed out the figure's identity. Jason stepped a bit closer out of the line of the light where the distinctive red and green Robin costume came into view. Jason immediately dropped the barrels of his pistols and holstered them as he rushed over toward Robin. "Damien! For fucks sake, what are you doing here?!"
"I slipped…" Damien replied weakly, stumbling and just barely catching himself against a large dumpster. "I tried to swing off the pole up there and my grip failed."
"Not that!" Jason scolded as he pulled him up out of the garbage heap. "I mean why are you out here and not back at home in bed like we told you!"
"You needed my help…" Damien coughed out. "I heard your communications with Oracle. They were clearly giving you trouble; I came to lend my assistance."
"Look here, you little shit, the one giving us trouble right now is you," Jason spat back, firmly planting a hand against Damien's forehead. Even through his leather biker glove the heat pouring off of it was tangible. "And—gee-zuss, Kid—your head is on fire," he exclaimed.
Damien struggled to shake Jason's hand off. "A slight fever does not frighten me. I hardly even feel ill." Just as he finished his sentence he erupted into coughs. Jason caught his shoulders to steady him; finally Damien regained his breath, shuttering a little under the slight breeze. His teeth gently clacked together. "S-see? I am already feeling much better."
Jason caught him again as his balance faltered. "You idiot, don't you know anything?" He scolded pulling Damien back toward him. Damien collapsed into his leather jacket, unable to even keep up the façade of feeling well anymore. "Look, Kid, I don't care what you say, you are going home," Jason argued, taking hold of him. He draped Damien's arms over his neck and hoisted him up. "Hold on tight," He warned grasping onto Damien's back. Damien wrapped his legs around Jason's waist, grabbing onto his shoulders as best as he could. His strength was waning, and this caused a small hot lump to start to form in Jason's chest. He swallowed hard and held Damien a little tighter. "Come'on, Kid, let's get you home," he whispered as he turned and headed out of the alleyway back the direction of his motorcycle at as fast a jog as he could maintain.
As Jason carried Damien down the city streets, the thick snow clouds above opened up, releasing a deluge of wet and heavy sleet. Jason clutched the sick boy closer to his chest, struggling to shield him from the icy rain. He reached up and pushed the talk button on his earpiece as he ran. "Red Hood: I have the fugitive. Batman, we need the car. I'm headed back to where I dumped my bike— rendezvous with me on the way." He slipped on a patch of the icy slush and just barely caught himself from slamming both him and Damien head first into the ground.
"Understood, setting coordinates to your tracker now." Batman's voice repeated through Jason's earpiece.
Jason continued to run through the icy walkways, occasionally slipping a bit as he went. Despite the heat pouring off Damien's skin, he shivered violently even as Jason clutched him to his chest to shield him from the cold. Finally he had to stop. He pulled off under an awning and leaned Damien against the wall of the skyscraper. There he started pulling off his thick leather jacket. "Come on, Kid, I need you to work with me here. Stay with me, alright," He asked, draping his jacket over Damien's shoulders and wrapping it securely around him.
Damian hardly seemed to notice. He kept fading in and out of consciousness. Despite his violent shaking, sweat trickled down his face in visible beads. Jason clenched his jaw as he sat up and glanced up and down the street. "For fuck's sake, where the hell is Bruce?" He cursed under his breath. Still seeing no sign of the batmobile, he lifted Damian back up into his arms. But just as he was about to start running again, the squealing tires ripped around the corner of the block and a second later the blinding headlights flashed across his back illuminating the entire street as the vehicle screeched to a halt at the curb right next to Jason and Damian. The hood of the car slid open with a hiss. "Hood, bring him over here," Batman called out.
Jason turned and carried Damien over. "He's burning up, we need to get him to the hospital," he reported, setting Damien down into the passenger seat with a surprising level of delicacy.
Batman took a hand off the wheel and pressed it to Damien's forehead. "No, he'll be fine, we just have to get him home."
"Are you out of your fucking mind!" Jason snapped, scowling at Bruce from under the hood. "Are you even looking at him?! He's in really bad shape!"
"And I also happen to know that a hospital wouldn't do any good," Batman shot back. "Not only would it put all of our identities at risk, but medical staff would only give him some fluids and send him home anyway."
"Would you stop worrying about this whole stupid vigilante mission you're on for five seconds?" Jason snapped. "Who gives a shit about secret identities or whatever! How could you possibly know that the hospital wouldn't do any good?!"
"Number 1:" Batman retorted, raising his voice to speak over Jason, but not yelling. He gestured with his fingers as he counted. "Little can be done about viral infections aside from just letting them run their course. Number 2: the fever might be high but I can already tell it's not dangerous. Fluids and Over-the-counter anti-inflammatories will do fine. Number 3: Everything we need is already at the Batcave. Even if we did need further medical expertise, Leslie Tompkins is on speed dial." He put his hands back onto the steering wheel. "So are you going to keep arguing with me or are you going to get in?"
Jason's face flushed from under his hood. Bruce and he butted heads a lot—ok, almost constantly—but in this case he seemed to bring up good points. And he hated it when Bruce was right. "Jason," Bruce said again in a lower voice, knocking him out of his fuming and pulling him back into the conversation. "I know you are really close with Damian. You're worried about him. I get it—I'm worried about him too, but I need you to trust me on this. And the longer you sit here and argue with me over it the longer it's going to take to get him back home. So are you going to ride with us, or are you going to take your motorcycle back to the house?
Jason hesitated for a second. But finally he growled to himself as he shoved his personal issues with Bruce aside and jumped into the back of the Batmobile. The hood of the vehicle slammed shut over all of them and with another squeal of tires on the wet icy pavement they zoomed off.