Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Chapter Text
Chapter 1:
Gotham’s winter air was never something you could prepare for. Anticipate, yes, but prepare for? Absolutely not. There was no amount of layering or enforcing they could do to keep that bone-chilling wind from cutting into their bodies during patrol.
Dick was shivering and frantically rubbing his arms to get the circulation back as soon as he turned off the bike, hardly remembering the kickstand before marching away from it. Behind him, Jason and Tim rode in, followed closely by the Batmobile.
“Fuck, it’s cold!” Jason shouted, sprinting past Dick toward the showers.
Dick snorted. “You’re wearing the most out of all of us, what are you complaining about?”
In answer, he lifted a singular finger and disappeared around the corner.
There were others who were in worse shape, he supposed. One of them being Tim. While he was a grown adult at the wonderful age of twenty-two, his self-care had not matured much past fifteen. It was a constant struggle to keep him from supplementing meals with energy drinks or coffee. They’d had to remove the mini fridge he’d installed in the Batcave because he’d passed out from exhaustion and hunger after missing meals for several days in a row. Long story short, the kid was all lean muscle, which was fine, but it didn’t keep him all that warm.
Dick wandered over to Tim where he’d already planted himself in front of the computer and was working on his report. As he began rubbing the kid’s arms aggressively, Tim narrowed his eyes and halted his typing. “What are you doing?”
“Warming you up.”
“Well, you’re making it hard to finish this.”
Thankfully, Alfred had anticipated their chilly return and entered the cave with an armful of blankets. When he placed one in Dick’s hands, the young man nearly melted into a pile of joyful tears. They were warm blankets. “Oh, Alfred, you have my eternal appreciation. My first child will bear your name.”
“I don’t believe that will be necessary, Master Dick, but your appreciation is noted.” The butler tutted at Tim who hardly noticed the man lay a blanket around his shoulders.
Which left one stubborn Robin to take care of. Bruce was a lost cause, one Alfred was working on, but Damian was all Dick’s. “Alright, little bird,” Dick said, sliding up beside Damian. The teen scowled, but it didn’t hold any real heat.
It made his heart clench as he pulled Damian into a hug and the kid’s chin tucked into his collarbone. He’d gotten so tall! He’d grown up right before Dick’s eyes and was well on his way to outgrowing him.
He just hoped one day the kid wouldn’t leave him behind. Damian was his Robin. As the youngest of Bruce’s adoption addiction, Damian was the baby of the family. While Dick was still one of Bruce’s kids—he would always be a child to Bruce, he knew—the baby of the family was also his to take care of. There was a special place in his heart for Damian.
The thought of Damian growing up left him with tears in his eyes. “Don’t you dare grow up!” he wailed dramatically, wrapping his body around Damian’s protectively. It was a testament of how much Damian had changed that he didn’t really try to push Dick away.
“Richard, this is ridiculous. I need to take care of my equipment and finish my—”
“Nope. You’re stuck right here.” Dick squeezed him tightly in emphasis.
Damian was growing up. He occasionally convinced Bruce to let him go on solo patrols—as long as one of the others were nearby in case something happened. He was in high school and had a few friends he tolerated. He led the Teen Titans and had actually cooperated with other teams in the past.
Right before his eyes, his little Robin was growing up.
“Everyone, change out of your uniforms and meet me upstairs for tea. I won’t have any of you catching illness all because you decided to remain down here for the better part of the night.” Alfred cleared his throat, pointedly looking at Tim and Bruce, both having taken their seats at the computers. “Do you sirs hear me?”
They both had the good sense to appear embarrassed, nodding.
That was how they all ended in the sitting room with steaming cups of tea and a roaring fire quickly heating their frozen limbs. Even Jason had joined them, hardly requiring Dick’s pressuring and begging.
Not that it took much for him to stay at the manor those days. He came to family dinner every Sunday evening and occasionally joined them for Saturday brunch. While he wasn’t around the manor all the time, he often visited Dick’s apartment.
It had started as a ploy to get Tim to stop working and actually take a night off once in a while, but their brothers’ gathering in his apartment for a movie night quickly became a bimonthly meeting. Jason always bitched about his cramped apartment and his, as Jason put it, “shit kitchen”, but he never failed to come.
It was nice. The four of them had hit a good rhythm in their lives. With each other. With Bruce. With their vigilante personas. Tim and Damian were getting along better. They hadn’t had a true throwdown fight in months. Jason and Tim were on good terms as well. Dick had the picture to prove it, having snapped a photo of them asleep on his couch after they’d crashed during the movie. They teased each other mercilessly, but it was all in love. Mostly.
“Have you heard back from the girls?” Dick asked the room. The three of them—Steph, Cass, and Barbara—were on a girls’ trip for the week. He’d seen them off, laughing as loud, booming music poured out of the car as they’d driven away.
Bruce smiled softly. “Cass sent me a picture yesterday. They went to the aquarium.”
Tim lifted his phone, only half paying attention to their conversation as he typed away. Likely sending off emails even under Alfred’s watchful eye. It was a miracle the butler hadn’t confiscated it for Tim’s safety. “Steph has been sending pictures. I’ll throw them into the group chat.”
As soon as Jason finished his cup of tea, he stood with a stretch. “I’ll send my report tomorrow. I’m heading back.”
Bruce didn’t let the disappointment show on his face, but Dick knew it was there underneath the surface. They all wanted Jason to stay, but forcing it on him would only push him away even faster. He needed his space. He needed to want to come back. Dick had learned that lesson all too well with his brother.
“I’ll walk you out,” Dick said, getting up and walking back to the cave with him.
“You don’t need to escort me. Or try and guilt me into staying.” Jason shot him a knowing look as soon as Dick opened his mouth to deny it. Though, it was something he’d tried before. Sometimes guilting Jason worked. It made it seem like staying was his own idea. Honestly, that was how Dick had gotten Jason to movie night the first few times. “I have an early meeting tomorrow.”
Dick rolled his eyes but let Jason slide onto his bike. Before he put on his helmet, though, Dick said, “Want to patrol with me in Blud this weekend? No Bat, just two brothers enjoying the freezing cold.” He grinned for good measure.
When Jason hesitated, Dick added, “Come on, Little Wing. It’ll be fun.”
That did it. Inside, Dick jumped for joy. Jason grumbled under his breath. “Whatever.” That was a yes. Dick almost wiggled his shoulders in delight, but he restrained himself.
“I’ll see you this weekend!” Dick shouted as Jason stuffed his helmet on and drove out of the cave. He stood there until he lost sight of Jason. A moment later he was sprinting back to the fire and a second cup of tea. Gotham winters were nothing to joke about.
XXX
As it turned out, Dick would see Jason sooner than the weekend. A case had come up in Bludhaven that he needed help with. While Jason wasn’t the expert when it came to trafficking cases, he tended to have more connections than the other birds and bats.
It took Jason a few hours to reply to his text, but it was to be expected. Jason’s hours were even more chaotic than Dick’s. He told Dick to meet him in their usual spot and they’d discuss it.
Their ‘usual spot’ was one the two of them had found and designated as such. It wasn’t used by Bruce or their other brothers. It was a rooftop in Gotham, but it was theirs. Dick knew Jason enjoyed that part of it. Their meeting spot. Their roof. He was a territorial asshole, that was for sure.
Jason was waiting for him when he grappled onto the roof. The man wore his Red Hood helmet and stood motionless while staring at the expanse of Gotham below. He didn’t bother acknowledging Dick when he strode closer.
“Finally dragged out the heavy-duty winter suit,” he said with a grin, gesturing to himself as he came to stand beside his brother. “Adds a little weight, but I’m feeling toasty.” It was an overexaggeration. He was not, in fact, toasty. He was a little cold, but nothing he couldn’t handle. The suit didn’t look much different from his normal one, but it was certainly thicker. And the small heating unit running from the top to bottom was in the prime of its life.
Jason just snorted, shaking his head.
“So, this morning I found Tim lying at the foot of my bed,” Dick said.
He could practically feel Jason’s raised brow. “You stayed at the manor last night? Why? It’s the middle of the freaking week.”
Yeah, normally Dick wouldn’t have been there, but the night before had been special. “Damian had one of his art shows. The kid had some good stuff up.”
Jason rubbed at the back of his neck, the only physical sign of his guilt. “Tell him I’m sorry I missed it.”
“I will. Anyway, as I was saying. I woke up this morning with Tim lying at the foot of my bed. He was curled up in the smallest ball possible. Apparently, he fell asleep in the cave and sleptwalked his way to my room.”
It had been a shock to find him there. Tim had sleptwalked before, but normally he went to the sitting room and crashed out on the couch. Sometimes he made it to his bedroom, but it was usually the sitting room. Dick had taken advantage of it—before Tim could wake up, he curled around Tim and pulled him into an octopus hug. He’d only released the kid after he cried, “I have to pee!” Valid excuse.
“Did you look at the footage?” Jason asked.
“Of course I did. He walked into the wall a few times on his way out, but he was surprisingly steady on his feet.”
The two shared a laugh. Teasing Tim was a familiar and easy thing. Sometimes being the big brothers was all that had gotten them through the hard times. Though, Jason would always be his first little brother. Even if he was taller. And just in general bigger.
There was a long moment of silence. Dick could practically feel the brooding radiating from Jason.
“Let me know when Damian gets his art home.”
It was as much of an apology as they would get. He’d received an invitation through text, but it had been in the family group text. Dick didn’t think Jason’s absence had bothered him, but sometimes the kid was difficult to read. His usual tells hadn’t been there, though, so he doubted it was a big deal. He told Jason as much. However…
“Things have been good, you know. With all of us.” Dick turned his back to Gotham, turning toward Jason. “None of us would protest if you wanted to be closer, involve yourself more.”
Jason’s head turned slowly. “I’m involved as much as I want to be.”
As much as I’m allowed to be. That was really what he thought. They’d tiptoed around that conversation many times. Jason had come close to admitting it, but never came out and said it. Deep down, Jason didn’t come around because he didn’t believe he was good enough. Good enough to be involved. Good enough to influence the family, especially Tim and Damian. Yes, part of it was the difference in theologies and views on their nightly activities. Some of it was due to the past mistakes they’d all made. But they were all getting past those things. Apologies had been made. Forgiveness flowed through the manor like a river.
Maybe it was just good intention that had Dick trying there on that roof, as he always tried. It was his responsibility. He was the big brother, the first Robin. He was the emotionally stable one, after all. Everyone knew it. Not that it was always true. It didn’t matter if it was true all the time.
“I know. But it would mean a lot to everyone—”
Wrong thing to say. He knew it as soon as it came out of his mouth. Jason’s entire body tensed. “I’m not here to please everyone, contrary to what you all may think. I do what I want. I’m not going to start kissing ass all because you’ve got them conditioned to react to it.”
That stung. He tried not to let it show. “I didn’t mean that, Hood. I only meant—”
“I know what you meant.” Jason was fully facing him now, shoulders squared and fists clenched. Dick wasn’t scared that he’d swing at him, but he read the warning signs not to push too hard. “You always do this. You think you know better than all of us. You think you’re oh so wise and you can stick your fingers in our business. Well, guess what, Wing, you’re not infallible. Maybe once in a while you should mind your own damn business and let us live our lives. We don’t need your meddling or guilt trips all the damn time.”
Dick stood staring at him. He didn’t know what to add to that. He didn’t know how to take the conversation back.
Turned out, it didn’t matter.
The two of them noticed the looming figures at the same time. Across from Dick, behind Jason on the opposite roof, stood four figures, all dressed in black. He couldn’t make out much, but they each wore masks over the lower half of their faces.
“Behind me?” Dick asked, not daring to take his eyes off them.
“Three.”
A flick of his eyes told him there were even more on the buildings to his left and right. Shit. “Do you think they’re yours or mine?”
Jason growled under his breath. “Likely for me, but what the hell do I know? You tend to piss people off, so…”
“Would you let it go for a second? We can talk about this after.” After they took down a group of unknown attackers, severely outnumbered.
Dick pulled his escrima sticks out of their holders and prepared himself for the inevitable attack. His finger hovered over the panic button, but he held back. Bruce was the only one out that night and he was working on an abduction case. Tim and Damian had been convinced to take a rest night at home and he didn’t want to jump the gun and call them to action if he didn’t need to.
All at once, every single figure surrounding them jumped into action, leaping what should have been an impossible distance onto the roof the two former Robins occupied. Dick didn’t have time to feel startled by the display.
He stopped an attack with his escrima sticks, crossed in front of him as an X. The strength of the arm pressed against his weapons was shocking. Shit, they were either metas or enhanced humans. Not good. Not good at all.
What he caught onto, though, was even less encouraging. They all had knives on their belts. They each carried a handful that he could see, yet none of them reached for those weapons. They weren’t attacking to kill.
“Shit!” Dick cried as his escrima sticks were ripped away from his hands by another one of them. Assassins or soldiers. Whatever the hell they were. He raised his fists in response and threw himself into the fight before they could initiate.
It was like fighting panthers, or he guessed. They were all so fast and strong. He was used to being the quickest one in a fight, able to dodge and flip away like the pro that he was. But every move he made was followed closely by their attackers. They moved with such certainty that he knew he wouldn’t be gaining the upper hand.
He had a second panic button on his belt, but he didn’t have the time to reach it. Hesitating even a single second left him dodging the hands that reached for his throat.
The fight quickly came to an end as he felt a needle pierce the exposed skin on the side of his neck. He stumbled back from the dark-clad figures, vision already swimming. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Like pulling back a curtain, they moved aside and he caught a glimpse of Jason in a similar position. The man was on his knees, swaying dangerously. “Did you—” Jason started to say, but his body went limp and he fell to the roof.
Dick followed a second later, hardly conscious for the pain as the side of his face hit the rooftop. The last of his consciousness was ripped away a breath later.
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Summary:
Dick and Jason wake up and realize the situation. The Batfamily is on the case!
Notes:
So when I said the following chapters were going to be longer, I meant it! Prepare yourself for some pain!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Tim fought off a yawn—unsuccessfully—and blinked rapidly to get his vision to clear. Only when he reached for the mug beside him did he pull his gaze away from the computer. Oh. Empty. Damn.
He’d been sitting at the computer for…too long. He didn’t care to know how many hours had passed, honestly. From the ache in his spine and massive headache behind his eyes, it was likely approaching daylight hours. He vaguely recalled Bruce coming in from his patrol a few hours ago. He hadn’t turned away from his work, too involved to tear his attention away from the screen.
When was the last time he’d slept? Tim didn’t know, but that had been his sixth cup of coffee in…a short amount of time. Damn his brothers for taking away his mini fridge. Now he had to sneak up to his bedroom like a child all because Alfred refused to keep his energy drinks in the kitchen. He could load up on sleep when he was done.
Footsteps sounded. Tim blinked hard, eyelids heavy, and found Bruce padding into the cave with two steaming mugs and fatigue written on his face. “Do I look like that?” Tim asked, pointing to the bags under Bruce’s eyes.
“Worse.” He wordlessly handed his son one of the mugs. “I see you haven’t left the cave. I had hoped you would come to your senses and go to sleep. I was wrong.”
“Mmhm,” Tim echoed, sipping on the coffee.
Bruce looked over Tim’s shoulder at what he was working on, nodding in appreciation and agreement with his assessment. “You made good progress.”
Bruce’s praise always left him with a warm feeling in his chest, not that he would admit it to himself. He wasn’t a child caught up in watching Batman and Robin run through the city, mystified by their ability to save. He was an adult. He was Red Robin, a team leader, and had more than earned his place in the family and in the world of vigilantes. He’d seen them all at their worst—his heroes. But…it never failed to grip his heart when they acknowledged him.
He didn’t care to look too closely at why that was. He knew why that was, but it was an ugly thing. Like a rotted corpse. Best to just bury it and move on with his life.
“You know, you really should get yourself on a better sleep schedule. When was the last time you slept even six hours?” Bruce asked.
Tim pursed his lips. He didn’t like the direction of the conversation. “You get less sleep than I do!”
“I came back from patrol and went to sleep. Did you?” The question was asked with an air of innocence that had Tim narrowing his eyes.
In all his brilliance, Tim could only scoff and turn back to his work. “Pft.”
“Good one, son.” Bruce clapped him on the shoulder and leaned against the desk. “I have hope that one day you’ll spontaneously develop healthier eating, sleeping, and caffeine habits.”
It was Tim’s turn to clap him on the shoulder. “You say things like that and I’m tempted to call Leslie to have you assessed.”
Bruce only grumbled in response.
Tim went back to his work, finishing the last few trains of thought. The only sounds were his frantic typing and Bruce’s occasional sigh.
“Did Dick not come back last night?” Bruce asked suddenly, glancing around. The locker Dick normally used for his weapons and suit was empty, door ajar after he’d marched in the night before and collected his things.
Hm. Now that he mentioned it…Dick’s motorcycle was gone. Tim hesitated. “Uh…I haven’t seen him. He went out on patrol last night, I think. Said he was going to meet up with Jason.” He’d been fairly preoccupied at the time, but he thought he’d heard Dick say he was going to patrol Gotham after their meeting. He should have been back by then, but maybe Tim had heard him wrong? “It’s possible he went to Bludhaven rather than come back here.”
Bruce hummed, eyes narrowed as he thought. But he didn’t look convinced.
“I didn’t see him last night. Normally if he’s patrolling in Gotham he swings by. You didn’t hear from him while he was on patrol?” Bruce set down his coffee mug, straightening as his brows came together.
Tim shook his head. He’d acted as Oracle for a few hours, but the city had been pretty quiet. No Arkham breakouts. No major trafficking raids. Nothing that required more than one bat. Damian hadn’t gone out yesterday, not since Bruce benched him for an injury to his wrist. He’d be back on the streets in a day or so, but the kid had kicked up quite a fight. Even as a teenager, he threw a fit whenever Bruce took him off patrol.
“No distress signals came in,” Tim said, checking the log just in case.
Bruce grabbed one of the spare comms and said, “Nightwing, do you copy?” He waited, staring a hole into the wall. Nothing. “Nightwing, report.” He waited a beat and then sighed.
“He was supposed to meet with Jason, I think.” Tim wasted no time calling Jason, but it immediately went to voicemail. Not truly surprising when it came Jason. Though, it was when Dick’s phone did the same thing.
Alright, the uneasiness in his gut was full-on panic now. Granted, it was eight in the morning and they didn’t necessarily keep business hours, but Jason was usually up early, and Dick kept his phone on at all times, just in case. Even if Jason didn’t answer, Dick should have his phone on. He would have heard Tim call.
“Trackers?” Tim suggested, already pulling up their locations on the computer.
It had been a long, rough discussion between each of Bruce’s kids about putting trackers in their suits. Some had been understanding—Dick. Others had fought the decision—Jason and Damian. Dick had several trackers on his person when he patrolled, both in his suit and in his weapons. Jason had agreed to a single tracker, one he could disable on his own if he chose to do so. However, it could also be remotely activated, as Tim was doing. Jason didn’t know about that feature, and no one was inclined to tell him.
Both trackers were at the same locations. “The hell?” Tim whispered, brow furrowing. Their trackers were extremely accurate. Unless his brothers were lying in the same bed, it didn’t make sense.
His unease only grew.
As it always was, Bruce was a man of action. He didn’t waste any time grabbing his suit and telling Tim to do the same. “We’re going to that location. Now.”
All Tim could do was swallow against the tightness in his throat and nod. As he moved, all he could think of was how stupid it had been to stay inside and play Oracle when he could have been out as Red Robin. He didn’t know what had happened—or if anything had happened—but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he could have helped prevent it if he’d been out there.
It didn’t take the two of them long to get to the location of the trackers. Tim found it unsettling being out in the daytime in his suit, but it wasn’t the first time and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. He grappled onto the roof first, staring at the blinking dot on his phone. He leaned over the roof’s edge and spotted a trash can. Bingo. He didn’t bother explaining to Bruce before leaping over the edge.
He hesitated for a single second before lifting the lid of the trash can. One second of hesitation where he imagined finding his brothers’ dead bodies lying in there, discarded and forgotten. One second where he thought of the agony it would be to lose them. To lose Dick. To lose Jason.
He didn’t find their bodies. The relief made his knees weak. But it left more questions. He balanced carefully on the edge, ignoring the way the metal dug into his stomach. Thankfully, the trash was mostly empty. There, lying atop a few crushed boxes, was a pile of his brothers’ things. Dick’s escrima, wing dings, and comm. As he sifted through the items, Tim sucked in a hissing breath.
The tracker in Dick’s suit had been sewn into the suit by Alfred and couldn’t be removed. At least not unless the fabric itself was ripped out. Tim held a swath of Nightwin’s suit in his hand. Staring and staring at the little tracker that blinked in time with the dot on Tim’s phone.
Almost worse were Jason’s items, lying underneath Dick’s. Knives, guns, grappling hook, outer jacket, and his helmet.
Tim gathered their things and shot back up to the roof. Bruce hadn’t come and joined him. Bruce didn’t turn, but he did ask, “What did you find?” That tone—it was all Batman. At the moment, Batman was missing Nightwing and Red Hood. Not his sons. They couldn’t be his sons or else he would be utterly useless.
“I didn’t find them. Their trackers were removed, as were their weapons. All of it was in the trash below.”
Bruce grunted. Correction. Batman grunted.
Tim wandered over to his side. There wasn’t anything on the roof, nothing to paint a picture of what happened. From what Tim gathered, Red Hood and Nightwing had been up there and had been attacked together. From what little he could find, it was what made sense.
“Is that—” Tim started, spotting what Bruce found.
“Blood. There are a few droplets over there, too.”
Tim’s stomach clenched. A few droplets of blood weren’t something to make him nervous. It would be worse to find two massive puddles of blood. His brothers were still alive. They had to be.
“Did you already get a sample?”
Bruce nodded. He stood, tucking the two samples into his belt. “Let’s get back.”
It was on the way to the cave that they found Dick’s motorcycle. It was tucked into a dark alleyway, partially covered by a broken board. Bruce hovered over the vehicle for a second too long. Thinking. Tim didn’t want to know what was going through his head. Bruce’s mind was a place no one should be in.
“I need you to take the bike and check his apartment. Make it quick; time is of the essence.”
Tim was swinging his leg up and over the motorcycle when he asked, “Do you want me to check Hood’s safe houses?”
Clearly it pained him to say it, but Tim understood. “We don’t have time to check all his safe houses. We don’t know which ones are still active. It will be better if we check the footage and go from there rather than search blindly.”
Of course. It made sense, but it felt wrong not to look for Jason on his home turf. It was logical, and Jason would likely have agreed with them if he was there, but it felt as if they were saying he wasn’t worth looking for. Tim’s jaw tightened at the thought.
Their relationship had gotten so much better. Jason and Tim had even gone out just the two of them on several occasions. They were brothers and actually acted like it! It had taken a while to get there, but their relationship was good.
They would find them. They had to find them.
“I’ll call as soon as I find something,” Tim said, not waiting to see Bruce’s familiar scowl before riding away.
XXX
The fire escape window slid open with little resistance. Clearly, while Dick used his front door like a normal person, he used the back window just as much if not more. Tim slunk inside and closed the window silently, then rethought his actions. “Dick,” he said, raising his voice just enough to be heard.
The apartment was small but cozy. Jason bitched about the size of the place every time they had movie night. Tim liked it. There was personality splashed all over the place. From the curtains to the dishes in the cupboards. None of it matched, but Dick didn’t care. He’d always been so excited to show off his newest decoration, grinning like an idiot whenever his brothers made fun of him for it. To him, that newest thing made an apartment a home. The dresser inside had
Dick had a spare bedroom, and they’d each used it at some point. The dresser inside had spare clothes they used after patrol or whenever they crashed at his apartment rather than make it all the way home. And Dick never once complained about the intrusion. In fact, he’d encouraged it. Because Dick was Dick. He was Nightwing and the first Robin. He was the best of them, the older brother who never failed to gather them together under his wings and make everything okay.
He wasn’t there to make it okay. Tim rushed around the apartment and found no trace of his older brother. Neither of them. There wasn’t any blood he hadn’t cleaned up. His first aid box was completely stocked. Nothing.
“Where are you, Dick?” he whispered. There wasn’t an answer. Just empty, silent apartment. It seemed lifeless without Dick there.
XXX
While not completely awake, Jason was aware enough to suppress the groan he nearly let out as the feeling like a vice around his temples hit him full force. He kept his eyes closed and breathing steady. It wasn’t as if confusion and pain could get rid of all the training he’d gone through, both as Robin and Red Hood.
He was in a compromising position. He didn’t need to look around to figure that out. The first thing that he recognized was the smell. Antiseptic. The sting of cleaner and sterile procedure hit his nose and hung there, burning his sinuses.
There was pressure around his his wrists and ankles. Not metal cuffs. No, something soft but restrictive. That only accentuated the fact that his arms were bare. He’d worn enough hospital gowns to know when that was all he had to cover his skin.
But he wasn’t in a hospital. The noises weren’t the same. No monitors beeping nearby or the bustle of hospital staff. And they didn’t normally restrain their patients, though it had happened before.
Where the hell was he?
He couldn’t help the small furrow of his brow as he desperately searched his memory. Everything was fuzzy, like waking up from a dream and attempting to recall the details.
When the details began to trickle in, he didn’t like what he found.
On the roof with Dick. Dark-clad figures. A fight. And then…nothing.
Oh. Right. He’d taken a needle to his neck, rightin the space between his undersuit and helmet. The bastards had stuck it there so fast.
Questions buzzed through his head faster than he could control. Who were they? Why had they captured him rather than kill him? When someone had the chance to kill Red Hood, they normally took it. Where was Dick? He hadn’t seen his brother before losing consciousness. How long had he been unconscious? Where the hell was he?
It was time to wake up and face the music. There was only so long he could play opossum.
Opening his eyes didn’t make any of it better. In fact, the situation seemed to worsen.
It was a lab of sorts. He’d seen his fair share of them. It wasn’t as if the League of Assassins didn’t have one. Most nefarious groups did. Though, he supposed he wasn’t laying in the lab itself but rather a room adjacent. From his position restrained on a cold, metal table, he could see a sliver of a lab beyond. The room he was in was more of a…makeshift medbay. If a medbay and torture chamber were combined.
There were machines sitting lifeless behind him, waiting to be turned on. A curtain to his right cut the room nearly in half, leaving part of it out of his sight. The chill in the air sent goosebumps up and down his body. He bit the inside of his cheek hard—he was just so vulnerable. He would always be a large man, covered in muscle and scars, and his personality and grit was a weapon of its own. But they’d taken his suit. They’d taken his weapons. At least if he’d had his boots on, he would have felt less like a child.
Jason didn’t like feeling vulnerable. It put him on edge. Even more than the damn dungeon did.
There was a soft movement behind the curtain, a slight stirring of the air that had him tensing. He narrowed his eyes. “If you bastards are going to do this, get on with it. I’m tired of waiting,” he growled.
A pause. There wasn’t another movement. For a moment he thought he’d imagined it. His head was still a little hazy from whatever drug they’d administered.
“Hood?”
Jason’s brows shot high. “Wing?” he asked incredulously. Relief and dread hit his stomach simultaneously.
“Well, shit. I was hoping they hadn’t taken you.” Dick sighed from behind the curtain. “You restrained to a table too?”
“Yup.”
A pause. “You didn’t happen to hit your distress signal, did you?”
Honestly? Hadn’t occurred to him. “Nope. You?”
Another sigh. “No.”
Jason’s head hit the table again with a small thud. “This fucking sucks. Like, really sucks.”
That got a chuckle out of Dick. “Understatement, dude.”
More silence. Jason was letting it all sink in. The two of them had been captured and hadn’t been able to call for help. The trackers in their suits had likely been destroyed or discarded before they’d been moved too far, so that was out.
It wasn’t as if he needed to rely on Batman or the rest of his family to get out of there, but…it would have been nice. It would have been so, so nice.
Wasn’t the first time he’d been forced to escape a place like that. Still, it never got easier.
That was another thing. They’d been ambushed while on patrol as Red Hood and Nightwing. Which meant it was most likely their captors had intended to capture their vigilante personas rather than their civilians ones. That never boaded well. Neither of them had enemies that would take things easy on them. Likely torture and then death.
Wonderful.
Jason’s head whipped to the side as soon as he heard movement. There, standing in the corner of the room, was one of them. A tall, muscular figure wearing that same black body suit. A man, clearly. There was a mask covering the lower half of his face. Eyes expressionless and drilled into the back wall above their heads.
“Hey, asshole,” Jason started, sneering at him. The man’s eyes didn’t move. He might as well have been a statue.
Jason huffed. “Who do you think they are? They’re not with the League as far as I know. My contacts don’t give me all the information, and I know I’ve been out of touch with them, but I don’t think these are the same people.”
“Not the same,” Dick confirmed. “And Ra’s wouldn’t send anyone after us unless we attacked first. Not when he knows Red would go ballistic.”
Accurate. For whatever reason, that old bastard was obsessed with Tim in a way that made Jason’s skin crawl. He had no love for Ra’s and wouldn’t feel a single thing after killing the man. But Tim had argued for them to keep Ra’s alive. “He’s more useful alive than dead,” the kid had said when Jason had offered to kill him. It had been after Tim revealed what exactly the man had taken from his younger brother. That scar, no matter how old, would always remind Jason of the leader of the League.
“The Court?” Jason asked, already knowing the answer.
What was it with his brothers being involved in crazy assassin shit? The Court of Owls had been mostly disassembled after they’d tried to kidnap Dick a few years ago. They’d nearly succeeded in getting away—to turn Dick into a fucking Talon, further pissing Jason off. Bruce had hardly scolded him for killing so many of them. The leaders had all been imprisoned or killed—courtesy of Jason and his team—and the rest of the Talons had disappeared, dispersing into the wind.
They didn’t move like Talon, not exactly. They were clearly trained, possibly metas with how strong they were, but Jason’s instincts told him that wasn’t the case. “I don’t think so,” Dick answered tiredly. Resigned.
Jason glared daggers at the guy in the corner. A guard, he supposed. “Maybe you can tell me. What the hell are you?”
Of course, the asshole didn’t answer.
However, they weren’t left to wait long.
The first introduction they had to the man that would be the main source of their problems was the sharp clipping of footsteps against the floor. Jason could only watch from the table, gritting his teeth until his jaw ached. So vulnerable. Too exposed. He needed a weapon. He needed something.
The man appeared in the doorway, standing beside the guard and appearing surprisingly small. He was probably of average height, but next to the athletic-looking man, he was pathetic. The man wore a white lab coat and those stupid-ass round glasses. They always made Jason urge to reach out and smash them against the wearer’s head. The man was severely balding and had grey streaks throughout what little remained.
But it was his mousy little smile, the thin-lipped smirk created by arrogance that had Jason’s blood boiling. The man came to stand between Jason and Dick, greeting the two of them. “Good morning, gentlemen. I’m glad to see you awake and in good spirits.”
Yeah, no. “Why don’t you just get on with this? Skip the pleasantries and quit pretending to be anything but our tormentor. We’ve been through this shit enough to know what part you play in all this.”
The man only smiled softly, gaze lingering on Jason. His eyes were a murky brown, like that of a dirty, still pond. Jason wanted nothing more than to shove a knife into his orbital sockets.
“Red Hood. I understand your urgency, but you’ll have to bear with us. We have a process and it cannot be rushed.” The man looked over at Dick with the same smile. “And Nightwing. Both extraordinary men.”
Ew. Ew, ew, ew. Jason did not like the way the man said that. With delight. With promise.
“Gentlemen, my name is Dr. Robinson and I’m the coordinator for the Drone program within Trident. I heard you discussing the League of Assassins and the Court of Owls. Both groups with excellent track records and products, however we’re a step above. As with everything, time has allowed us to take advantage of evolution. Technology and medicine has advanced since the beginning of their time and we’re the pioneers in our field.”
Jason blew out an inpatient breath. Trident. The Drone program. What the hell? “How long did you practice this speech? Gotta be real with you, I’m not impressed.”
The man continued as if he hadn’t heard him. “Here at Trident, our Drone program has been unwavering in success. You’ve already witnessed what we can do with our Drones.”
Silence around them as both Jason and Dick realized what he was talking about. Those dark-clad figures had been Drones. The man standing in the corner—a Drone.
“Trident once tried creating clones, using superior genes and enhancing DNA to get the product we were looking for. But there’s just no replicating the natural product of life. Critical thinking. Combat skills.” The man shrugged.
Dr. Robinson looked at Dick. “We’re in the business of skills. There’s always a market for assassins and soldiers. It’s why you came across our radar. Your skills had been noticed by the Court of Owls, if I’m not mistaken. They had an eye for talent, though got carried away in the end.”
Jason’s stomach was tied in a knot, nausea climbing in his throat. Shit. Shit, shit, shit! Having that man looking at Dick made him more uneasy than he cared to admit. “A crush on Nightwing. You’re not the only one,” he said, attempting to get the man back over to him.
The doctor didn’t acknowledge him. “Gotham wasn’t on our radar until a few years ago, but once we started looking, we found several people who caught our attention. The Board considered going after Batman as well, but it was deemed too risky. Same thing with Red Hood. In the end, his movements were often unpredictable and he was considered a higher risk. You, on the other hand…”
Dr. Robinson flashed his teeth in joy. No, exhilaration. “Nightwing was perfect. A skilled assailant with the skills and intellect we wanted. Of course, we couldn’t utilize those skills until the Court of Owls had been removed from the picture. That was an enemy we did not want.”
Jason heard Dick snort. “Thanks for the confidence boost. Really made my day.”
The doctor nodded. He didn’t look fazed. “Imagine our delight when we not only captured Nightwing but obtained Red Hood in the process. It was an unanticipated reward.”
So…Jason hadn’t been a part of the plan. If he hadn’t been there that day, if they’d chosen to go after Dick another time…
He was glad he was there. Not because he was a masochist who enjoyed whatever torture they had planned but because he didn’t want Dick going through that alone.
“You thought I was risky before?” Jason started with a laugh. “Oh, you have no idea. Batman can’t handle me. You think you can?”
Dr. Robinson never lost that knowing, arrogant smile. It grated on Jason’s nerves. “You are not the first stubborn, willful man we’ve dealt with. In the end, we always win.”
“You’ve never met someone like me.”
“They all say that. I have yet to be proven wrong.” He clasped his hands behind his back and tilted his head at the two of them. “You’ll go for a high price. We’ll take as much time as necessary. It’ll be worth it.”
Jason turned to look at Dick only to remember he couldn’t see his brother. The headache squeezing his brain hadn’t gotten any better. That must be why he felt like vomiting. It had to be.
XXX
Bruce had practically thrown himself at the computer as soon as he’d arrived at the cave. Dick and Jason were missing. Dick and Jason were missing. DICK AND JASON WERE MISSING. It kept going through his head, a mantra he couldn’t control.
He couldn’t be a father looking for his kids. While his heart wanted to run a hundred miles an hour, overreact and cry and scream, he had to be smart about it. Logical.
Logically, they’d been missing for less than twenty-four hours. It was entirely possible they weren’t in terrible danger. It was entirely possible they’d decided to go off the grid for a reason.
The pile of items Tim had found didn’t comfort him in the least. It shredded the false positives he was feeding himself. While his sons would most certainly go to extreme lengths to complete a mission, they wouldn’t have dropped off the face of the earth like that. Jason might have a year ago, but not now. Not without telling one of his brothers, at least. Then there was the blood…
It matched his sons. Only his sons. He’d scoured that roof. Not a single hair or secondary source of blood that he’d been able to find. Only his sons’.
He’d trained his sons for trouble. He’d anticipated it and it had worked in their favor. He’d been the one to train them and he knew they could handle almost anything. Wherever they were, he had to trust they would be fine until he could find them. They were tough, even in the face of—
No. He couldn’t start thinking about that now. He couldn’t.
“Father?”
Bruce turned, schooling his features as Damian entered the cave, eyes already narrowed as he took in his father still dressed as Batman. “Why are you wearing your uniform? Did you just get back from patrol?”
Damian was a teenager. Really, he was an adult inside a teenager’s body. But he was still young. Bruce hesitated to burden him with the knowledge that his brothers were missing, but it wasn’t something he would be able to hide from his youngest. There was hardly anything on that earth that he’d be able to hide from his son.
“Tim and I discovered Dick hadn’t returned from patrol last night. We traced both his and Jason’s trackers and found their weapons and trackers had been discarded together. At the moment, they’re missing.” Bruce kept his tone neutral and without a hint of his devastation and anxiety.
His sons were missing. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, but each time it occurred he tensed, asking himself is this the last time?
Damian, of course, reacted exactly as he suspected he would. Cool, collected. Tight. Obviously worried, but he wore his emotions just like Bruce. The older he got, the more Bruce saw it. “Have you looked at the footage? Where, exactly, did you find—”
In answer, Bruce let the footage play. He’d narrowed the timeline down to an hour or so, going off the last recorded movement from Dick’s tracker. In silence, Batman and Robin watched.
Bruce could only narrow his eyes as he saw Red Hood and Nightwing meet on that roof. The angle wasn’t great, but it allowed him to see the two vigilantes have what appeared to be the beginnings of a heated argument. Then—
“There.” Damian paused the video and pointed.
Bruce’s stomach dropped. They were hardly visible, but he could still make out vague figures in the background. From that angle, he could only see two of them, but as he started the footage again he understood they’d prepared for a fight. As the unknown attackers descended on the vigilantes, Bruce counted ten total.
The fight only lasted two minutes and forty-three seconds. Both Nightwing and Red Hood were sedated and dropped to the roof. The figures effortlessly picked them up and left the camera view.
Damian paused the video again. Staring. They couldn’t do anything but stare at the empty roof.
It had been so quick. Assassins, most likely. From the way they moved, Bruce deduced they weren’t from any group they’d fought before. Not the League. He’d recognize their fighting style half blind. Not the Owls either. There were a few others he knew of, but they’d either changed their entire organization over the years or dropped off the face of the earth, likely dispersing or having been taken over by another group.
He had no reference for their attackers.
Tim pulled up on Dick’s bike a few minutes later. He approached quickly and took in their disappointed faces. “How bad?”
Damian scowled, rubbing at the brace on his wrist. Alfred had told him he could remove it in a few days, but Bruce could already tell the thing was going to come off shortly. It was about to be an ‘All Hands on Deck’ situation and there was no way Damian was going stand by while they worked on finding two of their own.
Bruce let the footage play, taking in the finer details instead of the entire, awful picture. His sons remained silent at his sides, doing the same.
“They’re skilled, that’s for sure. Did you see how one of them pushed Hood back a step?” Tim asked, pointing to the screen. “Strong and fast. Possibly metas. But they’re all too uniformed in their abilities to be metas. Unless someone has figured out how to replicate meta abilities like that. I thought we were at least five years away from that technology, though.”
So had Bruce. “I don’t think they’re from any group we’ve encountered before. I don’t recognize the way they move.”
Tim pursed his lips, thinking. “They ambushed them while on patrol. Getting the two of them together isn’t necessarily uncommon, but it’s not easy to predict. They don’t regularly meet up on patrol.”
Bruce was mulling through the same thought process. “They kidnapped them in vigilante gear. Which means they wanted their vigilante personas. It’s possible they knew their civilian identities, but I doubt it. Besides, Jason still hasn’t changed his status from deceased to alive in the records.” He didn’t know if his son ever intended to do so. Apparently there were perks to remaining as a ghost to society.
Tim sighed. “We haven’t received a ransom, so I doubt their civilian identities are involved.”
Damian braced his hands on the desk. “The question is—were they there for both of them or only one?”
The three of them groaned internally. The question was an important one. If they were looking at potential enemies of Nightwing and/or Red Hood, they had a long list to go through. Especially for the latter. Bruce loved his son dearly, but Jason tended to revel in pissing people off.
And if the answer was only one of his sons, then that meant there was the possibility one of them was just collateral damage.
However— “They kidnapped both of them, which means they wanted them alive. If only one of them was the target, the other would have been disposed of then and there. They wouldn’t go through the trouble of keeping them both alive.” After all, their attackers had managed to sedate both of the vigilantes. That was not an easy feat.
Damian went to inform Alfred of the situation—and put on his suit, though he didn’t bother telling Bruce that—while Tim sent a message to the girls. Their trip would be cut short, it seemed.
XXX
As soon as his phone began to ring, Tim knew he would have to explain more than what he’d sent in his cryptid text. After all, they couldn’t exactly explain what was going on over the phone.
It was Stephanie. The smooshed picture of her face that Tim had kept as her contact photo almost made him laugh. Almost.
“Hey,” he answered, stepping away from Bruce where the man seemed to be manifesting a dark cloud over the entirety of the cave. Not that he blamed the man.
“‘Hey’? ‘HEY’? That’s what you’re going to start with?” Stephanie shouted. “What the hell is going on there?”
“I can’t explain in too many details, not on this line. Wing and Hood were kidnapped. We’re searching for them now, but we need everyone’s help. Right now, we don’t have a lot to go on.”
There was a huff, breath causing the audio to crackle. There was a scuffle on the other line. “It’s Barbara. I have all my stuff with me. We’re working on getting a returning flight now. Looks like it might be a day or two. Until then, I’ll work on things on my end. Send me the information you have and I’ll run from there.”
Tim could have kissed her. Suddenly, the thought of facing the problem ahead didn’t seem so scary. Now, it wasn’t just the three of them. Their family was on it.
“I appreciate it. Sorry to cut your trip short.”
There was a laugh on their end. “Don’t be. It’s been fun, but we’ve all almost been arrested a few times. Long story, don’t ask. I think we’re all ready to get back in the action.”
He nodded, though she couldn’t see it. “Thanks, Babs. You’re the best. Tell everyone I said thanks and I look forward to getting this shit over with.”
“Us too. Hang in there, Tim. We’ll get through this. Together. We’ll get our boys back.”
Hanging up felt like taking the last step before jumping off a ledge. He stood teetering over the chasm below, wondering how the hell they were going to get over it. He couldn’t help but feel it would be easier if Dick and Jason were there. Despite their issues, despite how insane his brothers were, they were the oldest of the bunch, the heart and soul of the family in their own way.
“We’re coming,” he whispered.
He marched back over to Bruce and put a hand on his shoulder. “Alright, what’s our next move?”
XXX
It was infuriating. Dick had already bitten his cheek raw quelling his screams of distress to the ceiling. Strapped to a metal table was not the position he wanted to be in. He was cold and scared and pissed off.
And he was so, so happy Jason was with him.
He hated himself for wanting Jason there. What kind of monster wanted his younger brother in the same torture as him?
They’d been left alone for a few hours at most. It was difficult to tell how much time had passed—without windows or a clock in the room, they were trapped in a timeless cement box. Though, every so often Dick heard someone or several someones moving in the rooms outside of theirs.
The guard remained. He hardly seemed to be breathing. He didn’t twitch a single muscle even though he must have been aching. A Drone. That was what Dr. Robinson had called him and those like him. Despite never coming outright and saying it, the two vigilantes knew the intention was to turn them into Drones. Pawns for Trident, whatever the hell that was. It was just another Court of Owls. Just another League of Assassins. An evil head with mindless puppets for it to manipulate.
Dick stiffened as a small group of people entered the room. They separated, some going to Dick’s side of the curtain and others striding to Jason. Only one of them stopped long enough to smile from behind their surgical masks. “We’re assistants of Dr. Robinson’s. We’re going to begin monitoring your vital signs to ensure you’re in top form for the procedure.”
Her sickly sweet tone had him curling his hands into fists. “And what procedure is that?” he asked.
The woman continued smiling as she moved around him. The others began sticking electrodes on his skin. Blood pressure cuff. Pulse ox. All things he recognized but felt revolted by in that moment.
“Dr. Robinson will be best at explaining everything. We’re here to set up the monitor,” she said kindly.
If he had run across her while on patrol or on the street, he wouldn’t have thought anything of it—her kindness. In fact, he would have liked her. He would have thought she was a wonderful ray of sunshine in Gotham. But there? Whatever the hell was about to happen, whatever had already happened, it was disgustingly out of place. It felt wrong. Oily on his skin.
That kind tone didn’t hide the fact that they all played a part in the things hidden behind the curtain. They played a part in the horror, whether they realized it or not.
Eventually, they left him alone, though not until they had started an IV in his arm, forcing the limb down as he fought against it. On the other side of the curtain, he could hear Jason doing the same.
When the bodies left, that woman nodding to him with that grin behind the mask, Dick let out a sigh of relief. Their presence felt like sitting in the same room with a cobra rearing back and ready to strike.
“This isn’t great,” Dick pointed out, letting his head thump against the table. “And I really miss my bed.”
Jason snorted. “No shit. About this sucking, not about your stupid bed.”
“Rude.” Despite their teasing, he knew they were both fully aware of the gravity of the situation. “Before I forget to say it, I’m sorry you’re here, but I’m glad to have you with me.”
Jason was silent for a long time after that. So long, in fact, he’d almost thought that was the end of it. But, of course, it was never the end of it with his brother.
“I’m glad I’m here, too. Honestly, I’d rather it just be me. I’m—” He cut himself off, though Dick knew what he’d been about to say. They’d had that conversation more than a couple of times.
Don’t call yourself expendable. You’re not, Jay. Not to this family. Not to Bruce. Not to me.
No matter how many years they worked on bringing him back into the fold, not matter how many times they reminded him that he wasn’t his mistakes or shortcomings or rage always simmering underneath the surface, Dick didn’t think Jason would ever truly believe them. And it ripped his heart to shreds when he mulled it over in his brain. How did he get his brother to see himself the way they all saw him?
“You know what I’m going to say,” Dick started, breathing up at the ceiling. He’d never been shy about voicing his feelings, especially when his siblings were being hard on themselves or downright terrible. “You’re my Little Wing. You’re the first person to ever get the mantle of Robin after me. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. You know that. You were worthy of it then and you’re worthy of it now. No matter what you think, you’re my little brother and I’m always grateful to have you, even if it’s just a glimpse of you.”
Jason’s voice softened, almost hesitant. “You know the circumstances of why I got Robin. Wasn’t exactly because of the quality of my character.”
Yeah, it had been a bad time. But that didn’t stop what he’d said from ringing true. “The reason why you got Robin doesn’t change how you wore it. You’re good. You’re kind and wonderful and too caring for this world. Yeah, sometimes you’re kind of an idiot and a rageaholic, but…”
He revelled in the short laugh that echoed between them.
“You’re not expendable. Not to anyone, but especially not to me. I’d fight the world for you.”
“I know,” Jason whispered.
Dick knew any further lingering on the subject would make Jason uncomfortable. He pulled his hands against the restraints, ankles too. Nothing. They were too tight, too unyielding. “I’m assuming you haven’t had any luck with the cuffs?”
A defeated sigh. “Even for me, they’re impossible. Short of breaking a majority of my hand, I’m stuck. And unless they decide to help with that, I can’t do shit on my own.”
Yeah, that was what he thought.
XXX
The assistants didn’t expect Dick to bite them. Honestly, he hadn’t expected to bite them, but something had just…come over him.
The spirit of Jason, maybe. Who knew?
The next time their small group entered the room, the same woman gently explained they were going to put a feeding tube in. A feeding. Tube. Dick only stared at her in horror and disbelief. She continued to smile under her mask, bright eyes practically willing him to trust her, to give in without a fight.
Dick Grayson never went down without a fight. He was many things, but not a pushover.
“You’re doing great,” she said, gently taking his chin and tilting his head back.
Great. He was doing great. She must not have noticed the narrowing of his eyes or the half snarl he managed to suppress because she advanced with the small tube. “Swallow as I go and this entire process should—”
Dick raised up as much as he could and bit down on the hand that held the tube. His hand, while restrained, grabbed onto the front of her scrubs and pulled her closer. A part of him was prepared to bite her throat out, prepared himself for that sinful act. However, in the back of his mind, he knew it wouldn’t accomplish anything. Biting her was one thing—a reminder that he wasn’t some well-behaved pet—but killing her was…not him.
He released her quickly, not even drawing blood. Her hand would certainly be bruised, and she held it to her chest with a gasp as she backed away from him. The feeding tube fell to the floor.
For one moment, he saw true anger in her eyes. A glint of something sinister that whispered of sharp threats, but in the next instant it was gone. She blinked several times and took in a few steadying breaths. The other assistants around him hadn’t moved, seemingly frozen at the aggressive display.
“You’ll have to sedate me if you want to do anything. Next time you try to come near me, I’ll bit your finger off,” he warned.
The woman huffed, neutrality returning to what little of her face he could see. “I’ll speak with Dr. Robinson.” Then she left, heels clicking on the floor in her wake.
He heard Jason snicker from behind the curtain. “You’re welcome to try it with me. See if it turns out any better,” his brother said, tone biting enough for them to get the hint.
Though, in the end, the two of them were still helpless to their situation. Dr. Robinson entered a few minutes later with a small scowl on his face. “I understand this is overwhelming and likely frightening to you,” he started, addressing both men. “However, that was the one and only time I will overlook your behavior. We’re all civilized human beings and I won’t allow my staff to be harmed. Do you understand?”
Dick stared at the man with narrowed eyes. But it was Jason who spoke his thoughts. “You won’t overlook our behavior? You understand we have very little to lose, correct? Why wouldn’t we fight? Why would we just roll over and play dead for you? You’re dumber than I thought if you truly believed we would roll with the punches.”
Dr. Robinson took several steps toward Jason, disappearing behind the curtain. His voice was low when he spoke, but it chilled Dick to the core.
“You are at my mercy, unless you’ve forgotten that fact. My staff here have been instructed to be kind to you. That was intentional. To make this entire process easier on you. But my patience does have a limit. Misbehave and I might be forced to take extreme actions. I’ve heard you are both extremely protective. It would be a true shame if an innocent ended up getting hurt because of you.”
Jason didn’t have a cutting reply, and Dick felt his heart skip a few beats. They…wouldn’t. Right? Hurting them was one thing, but someone else? Just because they fought back?
No, they absolutely would. He knew it without having been in their care for long. There was something sinister throughout that place. It lingered in the air like smoke. Behind the smiles and politeness were monstrous actions.
At the door, the guard only shifted his feet before going still once more. A Drone.
“Now, while you both process that, Mia here is going to give you something to make the process easier.” Dr. Robinson nodded to the smiling woman and left.
The woman, Mia, returned to Dick’s side. Two other assistants held his arm still while she injected a syringe into the IV, flushing it with another. “This is just a sedative,” she assured him. It did nothing to make the flipping of his stomach cease.
Both Jason’s and his struggles grew slower and then still. Dick was hardly aware of what was happening around him, though he could feel people moving him. The room blurred quickly and his vision stuttered as he attempted to move his gaze. Strange. A tingling sensation took over most of his body, like a static blanket draped over his senses.
Hands moved his chin, though the sensation of their fingers on his skin was dulled. It felt similar to when he’d been forced to have a tooth pulled a few years ago—a terrible numbness spreading around his entire jaw from the local anesthesia. He could feel what was happening, but it was distant. Dulled.
He could only blink as something touched his nose. It felt like a bug. He attempted to raise his hand and swat it away, but something held it down. Oh, shit. The bug was crawling into his nose. As it kept going, he gagged, sluggishly jerking his head away.
His eyes fluttered and he felt himself losing time. Seconds. Maybe hours. It was difficult to tell. The next thing he knew, someone was touching his cheek and then retreating.
It almost had him whining. Come back, he wanted to say, but his mouth refused to move. It was like his tongue had been ripped from his mouth.
When he still lived in the manor, when he’d been young and so many things hadn’t happened, hadn’t torn away some of the innocent parts of him, Bruce would come to his room and tell him good night. The man didn’t kiss his forehead often—he didn’t show affection like that, not really. Not unless he was scared. Not unless he was desperate. Instead, he’d often place his hand on Dick’s cheek and offer his version of a comforting smile. Soft, hardly anything, but it was his. And it didn’t matter how small his smile was because his eyes always spoke volumes when he couldn’t force his body to react. His eyes were always tender and caring, dripping with enough love they could drown in it.
Dick missed those tender touches. He missed staring up into Bruce’s eyes even as he fought sleep. The man still did it, still held his kids as he’d once held them when they were younger, but it wasn’t nearly as frequent as before. But he always did it when it was necessary. When they woke up confused after an injury. When they found themselves in the throes of fear toxin. When they were stressed or worried or even angry.
Bruce was notoriously terrible at expressing his feelings. He didn’t clamp down on his feelings on purpose—Dick had discovered that early on. He just didn’t know the right things to say. He didn’t want to ruin it by speaking. The man was always so damn worried about being perfect that he fumbled with the execution and often let things slip through the cracks.
But he showed his love in other ways. Like the way they hugged each of them in different ways. He knew how they liked physical affection and how often they tolerated it. He knew their favorite breakfasts and often asked Alfred to prepare it when they were having rough days. He was there for the nightmares and three am conversations when they were stewing in their thoughts. He was there when they were injured and worried himself sick until they were better. Sometimes he came off as overbearing. Sometimes he came off as harsh, especially in the way he trained them. But it was him ensuring their survival. It was him making sure they made it to another day so he could see them again.
Dick missed Bruce. While lying on that table, floating in his thoughts, he missed his dad. Suddenly, he was thirteen again and had bitten off more than he could chew. Suddenly, he needed Batman to save the day so he didn’t have to.
Being the leader was difficult. It was a burden. And Bruce all too often was willing to shoulder it for his kids, despite never having anyone truly take his.
He fell asleep imagining Bruce’s calloused hand touching his cheek, whispering that it would be alright. Even in that state, he knew it wasn’t real. But he needed it to be.
XXX
It was when three Drones entered the room that Dick knew something was about to happen.
It had been a day or so since they’d first woken up in that room, if he had to guess. It hadn’t been more than a few hours since the two of them had recovered from their sedation naps. In that time, both he and Jason had been fed through the newly placed feeding tubes—which he had not been thrilled to discover when he’d opened his eyes. The tube was taped to his cheek and he couldn’t reach it to pull it out. A pity. At least along with everything, he wasn’t left with the gnawing ache of hunger. Though, there were plenty of other feelings to keep him occupied.
The three Drones all appeared the same. Masks on their faces. The same suits. The same stances and movements. Though, there were subtle height differences and hair colors. Still, watching them move around each other was unsettling.
No matter how many times Jason engaged them, they never engaged back, and, boy, did he put his heart and soul into it. They didn’t even look at the two vigilantes. It was unsettling—they didn’t have a glazed look about them and appeared to be completely aware of their surroundings. And yet…
Dr. Robinson entered and went straight to Dick. Jason cursed at the man, but he, too, grew silent. Despite their situation, despite their instincts to raise a fuss and do what they could to throw their enemy off balance, what they needed was information. They needed to remain levelheaded.
“You’re ready for your first procedure. Nightwing will be taken in first. A second team is on their way in and will operate on Red Hood,” he said.
Dick’s heart began to speed, galloping away in his chest. Despite the terror in the back of his head at hearing the word ‘operation’, he had a question. “You keep calling us by our vigilante names. Do you not know our identities? I figured you would since you removed our masks.”
The doctor smiled politely. “I know who you are. Trident knows who you are. Richard Grayson and Jason Todd. Sons of Bruce Wayne, the Batman. It wasn’t difficult to figure out. We don’t put value in knowing your identities, however.”
The room seemed to drop several degrees. They knew. They fucking knew. It wasn’t just their identities. They knew who Batman was, which meant they likely knew the entire family’s identities. And they…didn’t care.
“If you would prefer we call you by your civilian identities, we will. I just assumed you felt comfortable with the idea of animosity your vigilante personas give you.” Dr. Robinson blinked at Dick, waiting for a response.
From behind the curtain, Jason cursed at the man, as colorfully as he could. “Call us whatever the hell you want,” he continued. “Doesn’t matter much, does it?”
Dr. Robinson nodded sagely. “It does not.” The man turned back to Dick. “In that case, Mr. Grayson, my team will come and collect you in a moment and prep you for the OR. We will be administering anaesthesia and putting you under completely. Some people find these operations frightening, but you have no reason to worry. Our surgeons are highly skilled.”
Distantly, he heard Jason scoff, “‘Mr. Grayson'.”
Surgeons. Operations. Dick’s heart was beating faster by the minute. He wasn’t one who let himself get overwhelmed by…shocking information, but it made his body feel weak.
Suddenly, the thin hospital gown he wore was much, much too little. He was too vulnerable, too open. Unable to protect himself and completely at the whim of those who had captured them.
Jason continued throwing insults at Dr. Robinson. Once Dick collected himself enough, he tuned in just in time to hear his brother say, “Go fuck yourself. And get a toupe while you’re at it.” It made him laugh, though hollowly.
The doctor didn’t appear upset. He let out a small sigh. “We intend to make this process as painless as possible, but I know you’ll do everything the hard way. Believe me, this will be much less shocking if you just cooperate.” He nodded to the two of them. “I’ll see you in a little while, Mr. Grayson.”
As soon as the man left the room, Jason turned on the table. Dick couldn’t see him, but he could practically feel Jason’s energy shifting. Like a restless cat. Or maybe a dragon. “I think I like Red Hood better. Mr. Todd. What an asshole.”
Yeah, Dick thought to himself. An asshole.
“We’re not escaping before this, are we?” Dick asked. He tugged on the restraints again, pulling and pulling until his hands screamed at him to stop. But they were too tight, too strong. Whatever they were made out of, it was obvious they’d been made with men like them in mind. Bruce had taught them how to get of restraints like those early on in their Robin training. Bruce had taught them how to escape. But…
Dick wasn’t going anywhere.
He wanted to believe there was help coming. He wanted to believe they weren’t alone, forced to save themselves.
“They have clues to find us,” Jason said softly. “They’ll follow the trail. With Tim and Bruce on it, it’s only a matter of time. I’m sure the demon brat is already up in arms and is preparing for war.”
Yeah, that sounded like Damian. Dick smiled at the mental image. “He hurt his wrist. Bruce took him off patrol for a few days.”
A snort. “You really think he’s going to enforce that with this going on? Damian is going to take the break and run with it. And you know Tim. He’s not going to sleep until he’s solved this mystery.”
Dick sighed, briefly glancing at the Drones standing around. Waiting. Always waiting. “The girls are still on their trip. They’ll probably be headed home now, huh?”
“Well, yeah. You really think Barbie is going to stand by when you’re missing? Even if you two aren’t together anymore, she’s got a protective streak in her.”
That she did. She was probably all over the case. By then, if Tim hadn’t already done so, she would have looked at the footage and figured out what happened to them. Unfortunately, Dick and Jason had been unconscious and didn’t know what had happened after the initial attack. He didn’t know if there was anything to follow. He didn’t know where they’d been taken or how far from Gotham they were. For all he knew, they could be at the bottom of the ocean.
It…wasn’t looking good.
XXX
The time came. Jason fought his restraints as Dr. Robinson and a few assistants, followed closely by two Drones, wheeled Dick out of the room. He strained his neck to look back once and finally caught sight of Jason. His brother was doing the same.
For a split second, it was just them. Two desperate brothers who had fought for too long and over things that didn’t really matter. Two brothers stuck in the same hell without a way out. Dick opened his mouth to say something, anything, but he couldn’t find the words. Fear was stuck in his throat. He wanted to reassure Jason, to tell him everything would be okay, to make sure his Little Wing wasn’t as scared as he was, but nothing came out.
Then the moment was gone, and so was Dick.
They walked him down a short hallway. No one spoke. No one even looked at him. He took it in, memorizing the layout and immediately spotting items he could use as weapons. Then…then…
Then he was in the OR. It mimicked a true operating room, even down to the blinding lights above his head. There were three masked and gowned individuals. Surgeons, maybe a nurse to assist.
“Mr. Grayson,” Dr. Robinson said, grabbing his attention. The man stood at his side, putting on a surgical mask. “We’re going to start shortly. I would like you to be fully informed of the procedure. First, we’ll be starting with your eyes. Because of the procedure, you won’t be able to see for a few days afterward. We’ll keep your eyes covered to allow them to heal.”
“My…eyes?” Dick wheezed, chest suddenly too tight. His eyes. His eyes.
The doctor nodded. “Yes. Don’t worry, your sight will return and it will be vastly improved.” The man looked up and nodded at someone over Dick’s shoulder.
“Now, we are going to sedate you before moving you to the operating table. It is best for everyone if you remain calm.”
Remain calm. Remain calm? Yeah. No.
Dick jerked against his restraints, causing everyone in the room to jump. “I’ll get out of these restraints at some point. When I do, you'd better pray for mercy.”
Dr. Robinson frowned behind his mask. “There’s no need for such dramatics.”
A mask was brought down over his face and oxygen flowed freely through it, smelling of plastic. He jerked away, refusing to make it easy. There were a few more attempts—someone even tried to hold his jaw, though he nearly bit their fingers off before they got the hint—before Dr. Robinson said, “He’s at a hundred percent. We’ll oxygenate as soon as he’s sedated.”
“Yes, sir.”
His arm was held down and there was a flurry of activity. Something was pushed through his IV. Then he was released.
Almost immediately, the room wavered and grew fuzzy. No. No! The fight left his body, leaving him dizzy on the unmoving table.
Though, he was still able to turn and look at the doctors waiting for him to stop fighting. The doctors who were going to do something with his eyes. They lifted a series of needles and syringes. Scalpels and hooks. Devices that should not go anywhere near his eyes.
“No,” he managed to say.
Please, Bruce. Anyone. Save me.
The last thing he saw before his eyelids grew too heavy was one of the masked torturors holding up some sort of clamp.
Notes:
Thank you so much for reading! Bear with me, this is my first time writing in the DC universe and I'm still learning each character's voice. If you have suggestions or corrections, please feel free to send them my way!