Silver’s Cave of Whump

“So what's your next move?” Dick asked, “Roast me alive for suggesting you exercise patience?”

No, he didn't want to hurt anybody who didn’t deserve it, and it was clear he needed to get better control of his emotions to achieve that. After all, Dick didn’t deserve to be hurt, did he? Not that Brion didn’t want to punch him in the face every five seconds, but did he actually, seriously, want to hurt the guy? No, he still needed him. Dick had promised to help, and Brion would stay for as long as the man worked to uphold his promise, that was the deal. Maybe he could try this ‘patience’ thing out one more time, give it a second chance the way Dick had with the whole league of assassins debacle.

“Huh,” said Dick, once Brion was finished. “Okay. Yeah, now I get it. See, I think you know we're doing everything we can to find Tara.”

On some level, Brion knew the man was trying his best to help. He did know that, didn’t he? There wasn’t much evidence to the contrary. It wasn’t hard to figure out that Dick was still hiding things, he could just feel it. But did the guy have good reasons? Brion thought he should be the judge of that.

“So, is this really about her, or is it about Markovia?

“You've been online every day, every hour, obsessively following your brother's every move.”

In hindsight, Brion might not have been as discreet as he’d thought when it came to his internet activity. Still, how dare Dick accuse him of caring more about his brother’s activities than the safety of his sister. He loved his sister, and he was doing this all for her, wasn’t he? So what if he also wanted to keep tabs on his incompetent brother, that just showed he cared about all his family members, didn’t it?

“Stay focused, Brion.”

Oh but he was focused, very focused in fact. Just not on the things Dick wanted him to focus on. The man’s words rang out in his head, the way they’d tried to distract him from all the lack of information about his sister. Who was Dick Grayson anyway? What reason did Brion have to believe him, to trust him?

“Because, right now, you have a decision to make.”

Yes, I do, he thought, whether to trust this man or not. He wasn’t sure, and he was still coming down from the adrenaline of anger. Thinking over Dick’s words once more though, didn’t help much when it came to his temper.

So he sat and stewed, made lava and burned things up. He didn’t put new clothes back on, and he hardly noticed when Conner came back on the motorcycle he’d nonsensically fixed and driven out.

Eventually, Brion decided to go cool off down by the beach, he didn’t want to destroy any more property than he already had. Though he was far from home, he was still a prince, and he still had manners. He’d just been...not so good at using them lately.

He arrived at the beach to an unexpected sight. There stood Dick Grayson, unwrapping bloody bandages from around his torso. It seemed he had come back while Brion had been lost in thought and not paying attention.

“Did—Did I do that?” he couldn’t help blurting out.

Dick did not startle nor turn around. He just continued steadily, as if he’d known Brion was there.

“No,” he answered calmly, “I’d been wounded this morning, before our little scuffle, but the rest of my activities today were what made it worse.”

Brion couldn’t help staring.

There were so many scars. He wasn’t an expert, but they looked like bullet wounds, knife wounds, maybe wounds from a whip? There was more scar tissue than Brion even thought was possible. Dick turned around once most of the bandages had been removed.

His front wasn’t much better.

For one, there was the actual, mildly bleeding wound that was only partly covered, and for another, the scars looked much more deliberate. As if they’d been specifically placed there, or certain attacks had been made repeatedly in the same place. Brion was so preoccupied with all this that he almost didn’t notice Dick’s arms.

“Wait a minute…” he began, “We’ve seen your bare arms before, someone would have noticed those scars.”

Dick grinned a tired grin at him, “I’ve been doing this for years, I wouldn’t be very skilled at managing different identities if I couldn’t hide things like this, now would I?”

Brion only half heard him, something had caught his eye amidst the extensive scar tissue: burns.

Internally, he cringed, wondering how Dick managed to be around so many people with powers that could be so easily used to hurt him. Then he dismissed the thought, reminding himself that the man had proven his competency, time and time again. If anything, it should be metas who would be afraid of Dick.

Still, how could the man do this every day? How could he fight so well even while injured? Brion remembered their confrontation earlier. Dick had reacted quickly and showed no sign of pain. Who was this guy?

“Getting hurt is part of the job, part of what you’re getting into if you decide to become a hero. It’s the ugly side of things, the side heroes try very hard to ignore. I signed up for this job, and I gave everything to it, do you understand? This is my life. There’s no turning back for me.”

Brion thought he kind of understood, Dick was trying to show him that he kept his promises, that he did this kind of thing for a living and wouldn’t back out.

“This might be your job, it might even be your life, but it’s not mine,” he retorted, “all I want is my sister back, I want things to—to change for the better, I don’t know, I just wish things had turned out differently. You don’t know what it’s like, I’ve lost everything!”

“You think we’re so different, Brion? You think I don’t understand how you feel?” Dick asked, tone a little bit bitter. But his words after were honest and sincere, “When I was a child, my parents were killed right in front of me. I left my world behind for an unfamiliar and unwelcoming one. Now I have family again, friends. I lived my life, I left my world, my past, I left it all behind. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still take part of it with me, wherever I go, whatever I do. It’s still a part of me, but I don’t spend all my time obsessing over it.”

Brion nodded, still reeling from the sudden realizations this gave him.

He’d been stupid to doubt Dick’s motives. And now, thinking back, he remembered countless times where he’d said things that must’ve sounded so rude to Dick, who had clearly gone through worse and still came out...well he’d handled it better than Brion was anyway. Who knows though? Maybe it had taken Dick years to get to where he was now, mentally. Either way, the man had reached a level of acceptance that Brion could respect and admire, if not strive for.

Dick held up some clean bandages, eyebrows raised. Brion shrugged, coming forward to help. They worked in silence, wrapping Dick’s wound back up and obscuring more of the scars that Brion tried diligently to avoid looking at.

After a while, they were finished, and they sat on a rock near the water, staring out at the waves in contemplative silence.

Dick had given him a lot to think about.

“You and I okay?” the man asked, glancing at him.

Brion nodded.

Dick continued, “And are you okay?”

He chuckled softly, “I wasn't, but moving forward, I think I will be.”

“Are you a man perpetually looking back at what he's lost, or a man looking forward to what he might become?”

Dick groaned, rolling over in the sheets.

They were so heavy and wet, he’d had to get them off him immediately, had to get her off of him. He couldn’t see her, but he knew she was there, she had to be there, right?

His head ached, and he couldn’t seem to fall asleep no matter what he did. Or was he already asleep? He couldn’t tell. He must’ve been drugged...Yeah, that seemed likely. He was always getting drugged, there were enemies around practically every corner.

Something rumbled nearby, and his heart raced… A funny feeling began in his stomach. What was that? Was there something in him? He couldn’t quite find the energy to move and check it out. His body felt weighed down. Where was he again? Dick shivered. Wherever he was, it was really cold. So cold. But he couldn’t put the...pull the...he couldn’t…

Nevermind. Damian was standing in the corner. Dick smiled at him, abruptly filled with happiness. Hey Little D, how are you? The boy came forward, and Dick giggled, reaching out weakly, as if it were he who was the kid, instead of the other way around.

As Damian got closer, Dick started to see animals around him, cows, dogs, cats, birds, all sorts of animals. Soon, Damian faded from view. Dick didn’t see anything weird with that...

Then, it started to rain. Big fat droplets, pouring down and hitting him hard...Dick felt obliged to cry. After all, the sky was unhappy, and now so was he...

Who am I? The thought crashed into his head. He didn’t know who he was...why didn’t he know who he was? Dick didn’t understand. Has someone taken his identity? He felt terrified. The shadows lurked around him in the darkness, waiting to tear him to pieces.

...No, I want to live, he thought, then, do I? What if I don’t? What then?

Dick shivered again, curling in on himself. What if he was already dead? So many people had hurt him...they were all in the room, watching him, judging him. He knew they were there…

A door opened, and hundreds of bees came through, buzzing their way into his room. Dick yelled at them angrily. Go away! He thought, leave me alone!

The bees made him angry, they were interrupting him, and his limbs didn’t seem to be working with him to shoo them away.

Steph froze, staring at him. Jason stared back.

Neither of them moved.

“What are you doing here?” he asked gruffly.

“Probably the same reason as you,” she answered back steadily, “I know you’re in the group chat.”

Jason scoffed, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steph grinned, “don’t worry, Dick wasn’t the one who told me. He’d let you in very discreetly, but even he can’t keep a secret forever.”

With a grunt, Jason pushed past her to walk into the building.

Steph’s expression remained unchanged as she followed behind him.

They went up several steps of stairs in mildly awkward silence before reaching the fifth floor of Dick’s dingy apartment building.

Every time one of the Robins was inactive for a concerning amount of time, someone would inevitably notice and the request for that person to be checked up on would be sent in the group chat. They said other things in there, of course, but this was one of the more important reasons for having the group chat.

Steph knew the other bats were busy and hadn’t even thought that Jason might respond to the request, though now that she thought about it, Jason seemed closer with Dick than any other batfamily member. It made sense, she supposed, Jason was a hero at the end of the day, he worked with the bats, so therefore he must have a conscience of sorts. He cared, somewhere deep down in that angry little rebel heart of his. Steph could dig it.

They walked down the hall to Dick’s door, and she took the emergency key Dick had given her out of her pocket. She wondered if Jason had one as well.

In a moment, they were entering the apartment, looking around at the messy place that looked like it’d been heavily lived in and then abruptly left.

Jason was the one who found him.

“He’s in here,” he called, sounding shocked.

Steph hurried over, it was Dick’s bedroom. “What? But the rest of the place looks like it hasn’t been lived in for a few days.”

It was when she walked into the room that she could see why.

There Dick lay, sweating heavily and muttering incoherently as he rolled around in his sheets.

“Go away...leave me be,” he giggled, sounding unhinged, “oh look, more friends...wait, Bruce? What are you...nobody needs me...I’m useless...poison...no I don’t care…”

Steph strained to hear him. She went to kneel by his bed, putting a hand to Dick’s forehead and finding it to be very warm and sweaty under her fingers. She looked at Jason, “he definitely has a fever.”

Jason snapped out of whatever surprised daze he’d been in, “uh...yeah, it looks like he’s delirious too.”

Leaning forward, Steph waved a hand in front of Dick’s face, his eyes tracked it for a bit, before skittering off to the side. “Dick?” she asked, “you in there?”

The man’s unfocused gaze turned to her, “Dick? Who’s that? Where...Where am I? Who—Who are you?”

He started breathing heavily, panicking.

Jason spoke up, “shhh, you’re alright. You’re in your bedroom. We are here to help you.”

Steph nodded, thinking about what she knew about fevers and delirium. “When was the last time you ate or drank water?”

There was some random muttering, and then, “three weeks?”

Steph sighed.

“Feed a cold, starve a fever,” she said, “what happens if he hasn’t been eating properly either?”

“We’ll have to feed him something, like soup or some other food that has a lot of liquids in it,” he replied. “We can’t let him starve to death, but it’s better that we don’t give the fever too much to use.”

Steph nodded, that made sense.

Dick coughed, spitting blood on the boots of the idiots who’d somehow managed to take him down.

“That's the best you can do?” he asked, voice hoarse and cracking.

“Not even close,” said the leading thug, grinning down at him.

Dick resisted the urge to sigh. This was too cliché, why didn’t they ever switch things up a little?

Behind his back, he worked at the knots tying his wrists together. They were well tied, but Dick was better.

“The rest of the bats will be here any moment,” he said, deciding to go the way of the bluff, “I’d run if I were you.”

“Well,” said the man, leaning down, “You’re not me, and I happen to know the bats are busy tonight.”

Dick did his best to grin cockily, “And here I thought Gotham’s criminal underground was smarter than to fall for our ruse. Guess I was wrong.”

The guy growled, stepping back to kick him harshly in the side. Dick coughed wetly, trying to roll away as the rest of the thugs advanced.

“Really? A..beating? How—unoriginal,” he gasped out.

There was a foot slamming into his chest.

“Uncreative.”

A club to his stomach.

“Typical.”

A kick to the back of the head

“Rudi…Rudimentary.”

Something bashed into his kneecap.

“G—ah! I’ve…dealt with…worse…”

One of his ribs might’ve cracked under the onslaught, Dick wasn’t sure. All the pain was blurring together.

“You guys…probably don’t even…know what those words mean…”

A strong kick to his face practically flipped him over, and he lay on his back, trying to muster the strength to curl up and protect himself. This time he was silent, mouth filling with warm copper from a badly bitten tongue.

Just then, the leader got a call from who Dick assumed was his boss.

Alarms started blaring in the warehouse, and the thug ended his call. He walked over to Dick and kicked him once more in the ribs, cracking at least one from what Dick could tell.

“Looks like you weren’t bluffing after all,” the guy muttered, “doesn’t matter, this place will come down on top of you and any of the other damn bats in a moment. We’re not sticking around to watch.”

Soon, they’d all disappeared, leaving the warehouse with a haste only cowards could show. Dick lay on the ground, trying to get himself to roll.

He really hadn’t expected anyone to come for him. Not because they wouldn’t want to, but because last he’d checked they were all busy.

“Nightwing!” yelled a familiar voice, young and serious.

Dick tried to turn his head. “Robin?”

“I’m here. Black Bat accompanied me as well.”

Cass was in town then, Dick hadn’t known that.

“You...You should still be recovering, Robin,” he said, giving his little brother a look.

“Tt, as if I would leave your safety in the hands of incapable fools...anyone besides Black Bat.”

Dick grinned with his bloody teeth, “I knew you were warming up to her. Now hurry, you need to get out of here. I think there’s a bomb in the building.”

The boy scoffed. “I will not depart without you, Grayson.”

Cass stepped into Dick’s field of vision, standing besides Damian. She nodded solemnly.

“Will not leave. Take you with us.”

“There’s no time,” he rasped out.

His siblings ignored him, simply picking him up, one person under each arm, and then they were half-dragging him along.

Dick tried to help, to get his own feet back under him, but they couldn’t seem to cooperate. “Leave...me…”

“Shut up,” said Cass, from where she walked with Dick’s arm around her shoulders. Damian was recovering from a stab wound injury, so Cass was taking most of Dick’s weight.

He sighed, “We’re not gonna...make it...in time...I want you guys...to live.”

Damian glared at him, “We will survive.” he said.

They hurried forwards, heading for the entrance to the warehouse, Dick trying not to show how much pain he was in as they went.

The bombs began to go off, loud and sudden. The walls and ceiling shook around them, and Dick pleaded one last time for his siblings to run.

“Please, you have to go...”

Shaking their heads at him, the two just forged on ahead, tightening their grips on his limbs.

They were just reaching their destination, already passing through the doorway, when the whole thing collapsed.

Dick’s legs, which had been trailing behind him, were not yet over the threshold. Everything came down at once, landing harshly on his legs, crushing them instantly.

“Leave me alone!” she shouted at him.

“Stop killing people!” he yelled back.

The woman didn’t respond, simply firing three more arrows at him.

Dick dodged them with ease. Concentrating on the invisible tattoos on his arms, he made the air around him flow between his fingers, channeling the air near his palms to push in strong bursts of wind that propelled him across rooftops.

The air parted around him as he sped towards his target. She was a chimera of some kind, that much was sure. Dick thought she might’ve been part cheetah, or some other fast-moving predator.

She carried a bow, and was a decent shot with it. Her arrows were lethal broadheads, pretty wide and very sharp.

Dick had to tread carefully, his wind alchemy was not enough to block bullets, and had a fifty percent success rate against these arrows, as he’d soon found.

The chase went on for quite a while, Dick throwing batarangs and doing his best to keep up with her.

Eventually though, he almost had her cornered. Just one more block and she’d have nowhere to go. Apparently she knew it too, and that’s when she acted.

Three arrows, two arrived first and he barely avoided them, the last one—he didn’t.

Dick bit back a scream.

He crashed to the ground, throwing a batarang at her in a last ditch attempt to put her out of commission. She knocked it away with her bow.

The arrow buried in his thigh had a cord attached to the back of it which had caused it to be slower than the other two. She held the other end of the cord, and gave it a hard yank in retaliation. The sharp metal was ripped out of his leg, tearing through the flesh—it had gone pretty deep. This time, he couldn’t hold back his shout of pain.

The archer disappeared around the corner with her horrid arrow.

Dick grimaced, clutching at his bleeding leg.

Crimson gushed out at an alarming rate, and he could not seem to stop the flow. The arrow hadn’t come out cleanly, had made an even bigger hole and torn brutally through, leaving a gaping, four inch long puncture wound in the middle of his thigh.

If she hadn’t removed the arrow, he might’ve had a chance. But as it was, his future looked pretty bleak. His knowledge of healing alchemy was limited at best, and even if a healer did arrive while he was still breathing, Dick doubted they could fix this.

He tapped his comm. “O, you there?”

“Yeah I’m here Wing, what’s up?”

“I...no alchemy could save me now, even if someone did get here in time. Just tell the family I loved them, alright? Tell them I loved them.”

“Dick? What do you mean?” she sounded frantic. “Answer me!”

“...goodbye Babs,” he said, turning his comms off.

He didn’t want her to listen as he died, and he didn’t want to listen to her trying to reason with him.

Dick was already feeling lightheaded, and his attempts to stop the bleeding proved futile. There was nothing more he could do.

“Wing?” came a familiar voice.

Dick looked up.

“Jay?” he asked tiredly, recognizing the red helmet right away, even with his blurring vision.

“Yeah, Dick, it’s me. What happened? We need to get you to a hospital!”

When...When did Little Wing get so close? Dick blinked. The man seemed to be right in front of him now, and there was a new pressure on his thigh, making the wound throb even further.

“Not…” he heaved, “gonna make it…”

“There has to be a way, I’m not just giving up like this, and neither should you.”

Dick looked at him sadly, “Little Wing...alchemy can only do so much...don’t—don’t try to bring me back…”

“Oh Dickie…”

But Jason’s words rang through his mind, not giving up, and neither should you. A thought flitted through his mind, distant and hard to catch.

Dick lifted his head, “Maybe...Maybe you could—could cauterize it.”

Jason startled, “But my precision isn’t very good yet, you know that. I’ve been working on it...but if I fail, I could just give you a quicker, even more painful death.”

“Well…” Dick cracked a grin, “I’m...dead anyway, aren’t I? Rather...try.”

His little brother nodded, looking solemn and nervous.

What he’d said was true, his flame alchemy before his death had been well mastered and precise, but when he came back, it was out of control and destructive. Jason hadn’t been focusing much and it affected his abilities. Recently though, he’d been studying more and practicing. Dick had faith in him.

Jason slipped on a pair of fresh ignition gloves, they were white with the red transmutation circle of Flame Alchemy on each.

He held his hands above Dick’s wound, thumbs touching, pointer fingers touching, forming a rough triangle in the air above the tear.

Dick grabbed an escrima from his back, holding it up to put into his mouth. He would need something to bite down on.

“You ready?” He grimaced, sweat sliding down the side of his face. “Just do it.”

Then he put the stick in his mouth, and stared straight ahead.

“This is gonna suck,” Jason warned.

Then the air seemed charged with energy, and a searing pain began in his thigh. Dick screamed around the stick, vocal cords working overtime as heat overwhelmed his body and agony took over his mind. He couldn’t think, black spots danced in his vision and all he could smell was the scent of burning flesh. It filled the air until it was as if he was surrounded by only his pain and the products of his suffering.

It was only after it was over that Dick realized tears were streaming down his cheeks, and his hands had clenched so hard they now ached.

“Did…” his voice was hoarse and garbled.

Nevertheless, Jason seemed to understand, “Yeah, yeah I think it did. I’m so sorry for that, Dick, I—”

“Come on,” said Steph, “it’ll be fun.”

Dick glanced at her, sighing. “I don’t know Steph, I have a lot of work to do tonight…”

Just then, the roaring of a motorcycle filled the cave.

“Let me guess, he’s too out of shape to beat me for once?” The sound of Jason’s voice echoed throughout the cave.

Dick snorted, finally giving up and turning away from his work. “Jay, you’ve never beaten me, what makes you think you will now?”

“Falsehoods and fallacies,” Jason waved his hand through the air as if wiping away Dick’s many undefeated records—he held them all, of course.

“So, you coming?” Steph asked, casually leaning over the desk and hitting the close button on the file he’d been reviewing. “I even got the self-proclaimed outlaw rogue brother to join us. What more do you want?”

Dick shook his head, smiling. Nothing, I already have so much, he thought, looking fondly at his siblings. Maybe he would take a break for once, spend time enjoying the peace and be thankful for what he had while it lasted.

—

Dick strained against his bindings.

“No!” he yelled, “don’t!”

But they wouldn’t listen.

Jason tried hard not to let out any noise but was unsuccessful.

Dick hated the sounds of his little brother’s screams.

Each time the heated iron was pressed against his little brother’s skin, Dick felt incredible anguish.

“Don’t hurt him,” he sobbed, “Please. Don’t hurt my brother anymore.”

Instead, there was a resounding snap! of a bone breaking, and Dick’s breathing grew louder in his ears, his body awash with the pain of having to watch his brother go through such horrors.

Dick turned away, attempting to hide his face, block his view.

“Keep watching,” growled a voice in his ear, “or we’ll slit his stomach open and you can watch him die slowly and painfully, never able to do anything about it.”

Dick stilled. “Fine, fine. Just—please, please stop.”

There was a pause, but then nothing changed.

A long, thin black stick was brought out, and Dick knew what it was for.

“Don’t, please. Just hurt me, only hurt me…”

The electrical surge traveled through Jason's body, and Dick cried out along with him.

“Stop this!” he yelled. It had been so long, he had forgotten when the torture began, and he wasn’t sure if Jason could last much longer.

The stick was like a cattle prod, and their captors began beating his little brother with it, as if he was an animal and not a living, feeling human being.

Dick thrashed in his bonds, screaming for them to stop as blow after blow came down, as Jason was shocked repeatedly, making his muscles spasm and clench with pain.. “No...don’t hurt him…”

After a while, the beating stopped, and Dick felt as if his entire body was in disarray, though it had been Jason who’d gone through it.

Dick didn’t understand why they weren’t both tortured. Why only focus on his little brother? Dick didn’t like it.

One of their captors produced a knife and began to precisely carve Jason’s skin. Dick shivered, feeling as if the ghost of the lines were haunting his own body.

Jason was biting his lip, holding in any noises of pain anyone else might’ve made.

“It’s okay, you’ll be okay,” Dick whispered, wishing he could take the pain so his brother wouldn’t have to suffer.

Soon, blood was streaking down Jason’s torso, and their captors were searching for yet another way to hurt him.

—

“Tt, Drake is late,” Damian observed coldly, but Dick could tell he was excited.

“Remember what I’ve taught you?” he asked.

“Of course,” replied the boy, “I recall when we first participated in this activity. My memory is impeccable and my performance tonight will surely reflect this.”

“If you say so,” Dick said, “but remember, we’re here to have fun, not fight with each other.”

Jason scoffed, “Easy for you to say...”

“Ha!” said Dick, sounding triumphant, “you acknowledge that I've won all the train surfing competitions.”

“I said no such thing,” he replied.

—

Their captors forced Jason’s head underwater in a tub they had brought from somewhere. Pushing him under again and again. Dick screamed himself hoarse, yelling for them to stop. He wasn’t sure how much more his little brother could take.

Dick’s own lungs didn’t seem to be working properly either, and he quickly devolved into coughing fits. His vision was constantly distorted and fuzzy at the edes, and each movement seemed painful.

He really hoped the others had gotten away, so that they might find and rescue them before it was too late.

Dick’s hope for that took a dive when their captors brought out a saw and grabbed Jason’s arm, holding it in place.

Both brothers put up as much of a struggle as they could, but they were too weak.

“No!” Dick yelled, “leave him alone! Don’t you dare touch him!

He was ignored yet again, and this time, the pain was excruciating.

Dick thought he might pass out, he had never felt anything so painful in his life.

He drifted for a bit, mind detached and confused, frantically trying to make sense of things.

“Look down, Dick, look down,” said a voice in his mind.

Dick listened to it, lowering his head and attempting to focus his gaze—only to find that his arm was—it was no longer there. Blood gushed onto the floor, the room seemed to tip, and Dick closed his eyes, too exhausted to figure out what had happened.

—

Flipping and leaping, rolling and running, Dick loved the wind in his hair and pushing against different parts of his body depending on how he positioned himself. It'd been so long since he'd last gone train surfing, he'd almost forgotten how much fun it was.

The smiling, happy faces of his family members around him also helped to bolster his mood.

It'd been a while since they'd done anything like this together.

He'd have to try working more stuff like this into his busy schedule.

After all, what better way to take a break than to manage his emotionally constipated family?

Just having them all in the same area without bloodshed was rare.

Dick wished their peaceful evening would last, but it seemed Gotham's criminal underbelly had something in store for him tonight.

He was hit in the face with the fear gas and restrained before he even knew that was happening.

—

Jason rushed to stop the bleeding as his siblings fought around him. Jason did not care for revenge at the moment, he only wanted to make sure his brother was all right.

He had watched the whole thing. From the moment they were captured till now.

He'd seen Dick burned, electrocuted, and beaten.

Watched as Dick’s unseeing eyes and uncooperative mouth were forced underwater.

And Jason had looked on in horror when his older brother’s arm had been severed from his body.

The whole time, Dick had been muttering pleas, stuck in a fear-toxin induced haze where he mistook the tortures happening to him as being forced on someone else.

“Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…” Dick muttered to himself.

“Really?” snapped Jason, glaring at him.

“Would you rather I sing ‘give up and die?’” he replied, pausing his strokes to glare right back.

“I’d rather you not sing at all,” he huffed, “and what’s so bad about giving up, huh? We’re not gonna make it no matter what we do.”

“Shut up,” Dick grunted, putting on a burst of speed. “We. Are. Going. To. Make. It.”

“Too loud,” a new voice joined their conversation, it was Cass, and it was the first time she’d spoken in the past twenty four hours.

The brothers fell silent.

“Sorry for waking you,” Dick said softly, stopping to tread water.

“My turn,” she said, grabbing the rope that connected to his makeshift harness.

Dick knew better than to protest, simply pulling himself up and out of the salty water.

“How many water purification tablets do we have left?” he asked.

“Not enough,” grumbled Jason, “we’ll be dead by tomorrow.”

“We’re not dead,” Dick replied evenly.

His brother’s words reminded him of a similar situation he’d been in, many months ago. He had escaped with his life then, and he would now too.

Maybe you might, but what about your family?  Whispered a voice in his head. You’ve already lost—Dick cut it off, shoving it back into its usual cage.

Everybody still alive would make it, no matter what. Dick would make sure of that.

“Look at me,” Jason demanded, voice bitter, “look at my leg!”

Dick sighed, glancing down. His little brother’s leg was wrapped tightly, but a bit of red still seeped through. It’d been awhile since they’d last changed his bandages and Dick knew it’d have to wait longer. They didn’t have any left.

“What about it?” Dick asked, forcing himself to sound apathetic.

Jason scowled at him, “I’m injured, Dick. Can’t you see? I’m useless like this. The others—after me, no one else has to die. All I am is a burden right now, but you guys—you might still have a chance without me.”

“No,” Dick said, voice deadly calm. “See, I don’t think you really get how this works. I will not lose another family member. I will not live in a world where you are dead and I will not live in a world where Cass is dead. Do you understand me? I have made up my mind, what has happened is—it’s in the past now. We need to move forward and we—we need to live on, no matter how hard it will be without them.”

Jason looked him in the eye, and they stared at each other for a moment.

“Fine.” His little brother’s voice was quiet and reluctant, but Dick would take what he could get.

—

“Damian! Tim! Where are they?” Dick looked around frantically.

“Steph,” Cass whispered, sounding terrified.

Panic flooded his mind. “I’m going back in after them.”

“I...I can’t lose you too,” said Jason weakly, and then his next words were garbled by the sounds of the crashing waves around them, but they sounded like “it’s all my fault..”

No, Dick thought, it’s not your fault, Jay, it’s mine. I chose to save you first, and I don’t regret it. But I should have been strong enough to save the others too.

Then he dove back in.

—

Cass had caught them enough fish to last a few days. But the problem, of course, was not the fish. They had enough food, what they didn’t have was drinkable water. Surrounded by the stuff on all sides, and yet, it was really just a sea of poison.

Dick had accidentally swallowed mouthfuls here and there, but any more would do way more damage than he could afford.

“Land?” came Cass’s voice from his right.

Dick hummed, “I’d say we’re about...two hundred miles away from some, unless there’s a random undiscovered island laying around on our way over.”

“Maybe,” she said.

Jason scowled, “Probably not.”

Cass threw a fish at him, hitting him right in the face.

Dick sighed.

Those two had been fighting a lot lately, ever since Jason suggested they kill him, Cass had first ignored him, then began throwing things at him. Dick was just glad nobody had gotten hurt yet.

Jason threw the fish right back, and the cycle continued.

“Don’t kill each other,” Dick muttered, forcing his poor, aching body back into the harness, sliding quietly into the water. Soon, his siblings wouldn’t even have the energy to throw things three feet across the life raft. Dick was not looking forward to it.

Let them play, he thought, They might never be happy since the others are gone. Maybe if we’re gone too, we can be with them again. Maybe this is for the best…

Just then, he noticed something in the distance. A small figure, growing bigger as it neared, and it was in the shape of a boat.

Maybe not, then.

—

They pulled him out, and he lay there, choking and gasping, eyes stinging with tears.“I—I found Tim…” he whispered, eyes open but all he saw was the pale face of his second brother, and the teen’s crushed chest, a cloud of blood rising to the surface. “He—He’s—”

Cass’s expression hardened.She went to dive in as well, but Dick would not let her make the same mistake. “No—”

Jason held her back, and Dick forced himself to his knees, grabbing the paddle as the wreckage of their plane sank behind them.

If she really wanted to, she could break free and swim. Dick suspected she had gone down after him before while he wasn’t looking. Now though, she did not attempt again, just went limp in Jason’s arms.

Dick sighed, rubbing absent-mindedly at his right shoulder. Sometimes it acted up for no reason. But it wasn’t that bad, he could deal with a little pain here and there.

He was busy with at least five cases as Nightwing, and three as officer Grayson. He told his brain not to do the math on how many that was and how much self-care he’d been doing lately in correlation to that number, but alas, no can do. It was times like these where he wished he wasn’t so good at math.

Nevertheless, he was alive and fit and functioning properly, so he counted that as a win. Those were all that was necessary to do his job—both of them—and since his professions were all about saving people and taking down bad guys, that’s what took precedence. Crime would continue, and there would always be innocents in danger.

Dick had learned long ago which parts of his life could be put on the back burner and for how long they could stay there.

He was a pro, he was the first, the one who inadvertently dragged all the others into this life. The least he could do was dedicate himself to saving others so that one day teenagers might not have to.

“We’re here,” said Amy from beside him.

Dick looked up, hand drifting away from his shoulder. “Wow, that was fast.”

“Not really,” she replied, frowning down at him, “you’ve been quieter than usual today, Rookie. Your old wound giving you trouble?”

For a moment, Dick thought back to the time when the Joker shot him in the right shoulder, the final straw that made Bruce order him to leave, that led to Dick deciding not to go back.

Of course, it hadn’t turned out that way, he had gone back.

But...that wasn’t what she was referring to.

“Nah, I’m fine. Ready to check out some suspicious warehouses!” he grinned at her.

She sighed, opening her door and stepping out.

—

Why did it always have to be the right shoulder? Dick groaned internally, At this point, there had to be hardly any flesh left in that part of his body, what with all the criminals that seemed determined not to let him keep any.

Each time he’d heal and build the muscle back up, and then boom! Gone, just like that.

The old wounds had been acting up lately too, Dick should’ve known something would happen. Rainy days, and criminals who aimed for the wrong side of his chest. Didn’t they know the heart was on the left side of his body?

Well, to be fair, Dick probably subconsciously tilted to protect his most important muscle, but still. Couldn’t his poor shoulder catch a brake? No rest for the unprotected, he supposed. In the end, he was just glad Amy hadn’t been hit in the crossfire.

She reached for her walkie talkie, probably to get someone to come pick up the unconscious thugs littered across the floor and call for an ambulance. Dick’s left hand caught her arm in a weak grip.

“No...don’t…” he murmured, “can’t go to...hospital. Just...just get me back to...my place…”

“You need to go to the hospital,” she said, glaring at him, “this isn’t up for debate.”

“N—No,” he gritted out between clenched teeth, “my family will know...immediately, I can’t worry them for...something so...stupid...”

“You idiot,” Amy snarled at him, “they’ll feel even worse if you’re dead.”

“It’s fine,” Dick replied, sounding faint, “I’ve...dealt with worse...before...on my own.”

“Sure,” she said, unconvinced. “But I’m not taking any chances. We wouldn’t want a repeat of last time, now would we?”

Dick sighed, hissing as she put more pressure on the wound with one hand, her other busy calling for an ambulance.

“Well, I lived that time, didn’t I?” he muttered.

If looks could kill, blood loss would be the least of his problems.

After a moment, she finished and hung up.

“They’ll be here in about ten minutes, can you make it that long?”

“Of course,” Dick’s voice slurred, vision going blurry.

“Hey! Grayson! Stay with me! That’s an order, dammit!”

—

Jason, Tim, and Steph arrived at the hospital, Steph had won the rock-paper-scissors contest, and so they drove the whole way there weaving in and out of traffic at top speed in Bruce’s fastest, most ridiculous looking car.

Or at least, it hadn’t used to look so ridiculous, until Steph had it repainted to be purple a few months ago and claimed it as hers.

Jason had to hand it to her, the expression on the old man’s face when he’d seen it had been priceless.

Now, Dick was in the hospital, and Jason shouldn’t be having such light hearted thoughts at a time like this. He just had a feeling that the guy was fine, that’s all. Goldie could handle himself, and plus, the doctor said it hadn’t been urgent, that Dickface was gonna be alright, and that’s all Jason really needed to hear.

It was only Blondie and Replacement who were the worried ones, really. That’s why Jason was here, he’d been bored today too, why not kill some time and check on a wounded brother all in one quick drive to a hospital miles away? Not that Jason cared, or anything.

The trio walked through the halls, white on either side, surrounded by that disturbing hospital air smell.

Just as they reached the door at the end of a long hallway, a voice filtered through.

“You really have to stop getting shot in the same place, Rookie, this is the second time!”

Jason exchanged glances with the other two.

It seemed neither of them had known about this either.

They pushed open the door, walking in to find a tired-looking Dick munching on ice chips and a frustrated Captain Amy Rhorbach, who got up and left soon after.

“...what was that about?” asked Tim, because he had no tact.

Dick shrugged, looking uncomfortable.

Steph was gaping, “Second time?”

“Well, this would be the second,” began the Replacement, “and right before you moved out of the manor, you were shot by the Joker, right?’

“Something like that,” Dick mumbled, putting an ice chip into his mouth.

“Hey, leave Goldie alone,” Jason intervened, “His secrets are none of our business.”

“But Rohrbach wouldn’t know about that,” blurted Steph.

Tim’s eyes widened. “You’ve been shot three times, in the same place, haven't you?”

Jason didn’t like where this was going.

Dick sighed, “Yes, and Amy was there when the second time happened.

“But that would mean…” Tim trailed off, looking lost, “I’ve never seen any record of a second shooting in the bat records.”

“That’s because Bruce doesn’t know,” Dick said, voice serious, “I went to a lot of trouble to hide all evidence of it. Bruce thought I was still with the Titans during that time, he didn’t know I was a police officer and I knew he wouldn’t approve.”

What other injuries have you hidden from us, Dick? Jason wondered, watching sadly as his brother waved away their concern.

Dick sighed, staring at the mess of papers on his dining room table.

There had to be something in here, some sort of discrepancy. Jason couldn’t be dead, he just couldn't. Not again.

It’s my fault, Dick thought, bringing his hands to his head, clutching at his hair.

It’s my fault, I failed him again.

Dick read the autopsy report.

He read it again and again, he went over all the details, all the supposed proofs of Jason’s death. He looked over the pictures, knowing they’d haunt him forever, even if Jason did turn out to be alive.

He hadn’t eaten, couldn’t remember when he’d last slept. Reality was no different from a nightmare, and that’s all he saw, no matter what position his eyelids were in.

Dick didn’t even need the pictures, of course, out of everyone, it’d been only him who’d—

Only he knew.

Jason had to be alive.

The family was in mourning, too busy to drag him out of his supposed delusions. Everyone was drowning in grief, everyone, except Bruce. Of course, the man put on a good show, but Dick wasn’t fooled.

He’d gone to see him right away, but it hadn’t done anything.

It was as if Bruce simply didn’t care about any of his children anymore.

The sight of his stoic, uncaring face made Dick sick just thinking about it. Was this man truly entrusted with the care of Dick’s beloved family?

No, no that wasn’t right. It wasn’t up to f***ing Bruce, it was up to Dick, and he wasn’t about to let history repeat itself. Over and over again, his family members died and came back, only to face a worse future than before.

This would be the last time.

Jason was not dead. Maybe he had died, Dick knew he had because—because—he just knew. Jason died, for a moment. His pulse was g—gone, his heart had…it had stopped beating.

But Dick knew intimately the way it could stop and continue, later on at a later date. How a body could be taken and switched for a fake that appears just as real as any other.

Yes, there was an explanation for this, Jason had sacrificed himself for some great reason, and Dick was determined to find out what it was.

“Bruce! Where is he? What have you done with him? Tell me you didn’t do it again!”

The man simply stared at him, face blank, eyes watching impassively.

“Where’s Jason? I know he’s alive! I won’t let you do this to him!” Dick was desperate, it had to be Bruce, there was no other way.

“Can’t you tell that I’m grieving too?” Bruce yelled, “the difference is I’m not deluding myself. Jason is dead. He died serving this city and it was an honorable death. Now we must move on.”

“No!” Shouted Dick back, “cut the crap! Where did you send him? Dammit, where did you send him?”

“Face the facts, Dick. You were there when he died. He’s gone for good this time.”

“H—How can you say that? After everything we’ve seen?” Dick’s voice cracked. A single tear rolled down his face. He wiped it away.

“I’ve seen the body myself, run all the tests. I would not repeat the same mistake I did with you. I did not set this up, and I’ve ensured no one else has brought him back or will. There is no explanation, no way Jason didn’t die.”

“I swear, if you’re wrong, if you lied to me, if Jason is alive and it’s your fault the rest of the family is grieving, I will kill you myself.” Dick’s words were dark and venomous, filled with bite.

Bruce simply glared at him.

Dick turned, and left the cave.

--

Nightwing moved swiftly through the streets, weaving among cars as he raced silently towards his destination. The place where it happened. He’d been back a few times already, but he couldn’t help feeling that there was something he’d missed.

He arrived on the scene, turning off his motorcycle and leaping off without flair. Putting a finger to his mask, he turned on the night vision mode. Then he crouched down, staring at the dirt, sifting through the debris. They’d removed everything that had Jason’s blood on it, of course, but there could still be clues in the area. Dick just hadn’t looked hard enough yet. Yeah, that was it, he hadn’t paid close enough attention the other times.

On the night of Jason’s…disappearance, a warehouse had partially collapsed on him, and the remnants were still here now.

Staring at it brought back all the memories of that night.

Dick swung down to the ground, bending his knees at the impact, ignoring the pain. He began to run, going at top speed.

“Hood, what’s going on?”

“I—I’m sorry Dick, I didn’t want you to be the one to—” his voice cut out.

“Jay?” Dick yelled into the silence, “hang on, I’m coming!”

Just as he neared, a loud creaking permeated the air, and a large part of the warehouse collapsed, wooden planks scattering across the ground.

Dick faced what remained of the warehouse, suddenly filled with anger at the sight.

Why was part of it still standing? Why was anything still standing when his little brother wasn’t?

He reached back, and pulled out his escrima sticks.

Kicking aside the rubble, digging through the bigger piles, he searched.

“Jay! Little Wing?” he called out. Please be alright, he thought. I can’t lose you again.

At last, he glimpsed a bit of red from underneath the biggest pile of them all.

Dick swung, tearing through the boards, whacking at the ones that rained down on him with his other hand. He smashed through the walls, the supports. He dodged when some of the ceiling fell, and turned to attack that too. He struck and kicked and punched and threw whatever was in sight.

“No,” Dick muttered, “no no no no no, please, not not now, not here, not again.”

He had dragged his little brother’s body out from under the debris only to find a chest that did not move with breath, and a wrist that did not pulse with life.

Dick began chest compressions, ignoring the blood slowly pooling around him, soaking into his suit. He did not know where the crimson was coming from, only that it was there.

“Jay, please, please wake up.”

He was not aware of when his family finally found him, for he had continued deep into the night, never stopping till his mind shut down and his body would move no more.

Dick sank to his knees, staring blankly ahead at the pile of wood and glass that had once been a warehouse. His suit was heavily damaged, scratches, nicks, and scrapes covered his aching body, but he did not care. There were probably a good many splinters that made their way into his body as well, and he was sure he’d have to deal with them later. But later was later and now was now, and what even was later anyway? He did not know.

There was the sound of a gun cocking from behind him, and Dick didn’t even turn to look.

His mind had retreated, and his body acted on autopilot.

There were about forty of them, too many for Dick to take on alone in the state he was in. But he barely even took note of the odds, didn’t even consider a smarter course of action than charging straight at them.

Fighting was...happening...all around...why?

...why not?

Must...must move...can’t stay here...forever...

It was halfway through, after he had taken down several of them and was being taken down himself, that he finally surfaced in his mind long enough to activate the emergency beacon in his suit.

Blows rained down on...someone...somewhere.

There was...pain...probably...

It...didn’t feel nice.

...no strength to…

Something...changed. There were...people, familiar shapes and voices.

Dick slowly came back to himself. He was lying on the ground, purple and red and yellow dancing around him.

It was...Steph, and--and Tim. They must’ve come for him.

Abruptly, a loud boom thundered through the air.

Dick lifted his head, and there stood Jason, wearing only a domino mask and his usual Red Hood get up.

Was he hallucinating?

“Hood?” Steph’s voice trembled.

“But...y--you’re supposed to be dead,” stammered Tim.

Jason grinned, a look in his eye that Dick did not like.

“Well, it seems rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

--

Dick awoke to find Jason leaning over him, looking concerned.

“You took quite a beating back there, looks like you owe me one,” his brother grinned a grin that did not reach his eyes. “Here,” he said, helping him sit up and handing him a glass of water, “drink this.”

He took it, sipping silently.

Jason continued, “I grabbed you before the pipsqueeks could notice, and brought you here, figured it'd be the last place they’d look.”

Dick gazed around, the familiar scenery of his own apartment gazing right back at him.

“I...I knew you were alive.”

His little brother snorted, “Is that why you were destroying a building in the middle of nowhere?”

“It wasn’t just any building,” Dick returned quietly.

“Yeah.”

They were silent for a moment.

“So,” Jason said, “guess this means I get to join the ‘Robins Who’ve Faked Their Death’ club, huh?”

“You didn’t fake your death.”

He opened his mouth to argue.

“It..It still counts, Jay. Trust me, I know.”

Jason’s eyes widened, “You…”

Dick turned his head away, “For how simple it sounds, it took me quite a while to figure out that my heart stopping still counted as dying.”

He gave a short laugh, trying and failing to not sound bitter.

“I can’t believe...but we gave you so much crap for that… Gah, Dick, I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

Dick waved his hand dismissively, “It’s in the past, I knew you still loved me, and it was okay. It was on me for not telling you anyway.”

There was silence yet again. After a moment, Jason spoke up.

“How did you know that was me? How could you see that and not believe I was dead?”

“We live in a messed up world, Jay. There was the possibility that you had died but were revived, and I clung to it.”

“Oh Dickie…” Jason looked at him with sympathy, “I’m so,” his voice cracked, “I’m so sorry...I didn’t want to, I swear! I didn’t want to do it…”

“I know something about that too,” Dick’s voice was raw, anger hidden beneath the words, “it’s okay, Jay. I forgive you. You’re not the one I’m mad at.”

“He--He said it was too dangerous, the organization, th--they knew about me. It was a suicide mission. He said that if you guys knew, you’d all be killed trying to save me. He threatened me himself, Dick, I--I didn’t know what to do. ”

Dick opened his arms, drawing his little brother into a hug, ignoring the wet spot that grew on his shoulder.

“He was supposed to be different! It was supposed to be different this time Dick! Why wasn’t it different? It--It’s my fault, there must be something wrong with me.”

“No Jay,” Dick whispered into his hair, “It’s my fault, I’m the one who’s sorry.”

--

“How could you!” Dick roared, tone heavy with vitriol.

“Control yourself, don’t let your emotions get the better of you.”

Bruce was expressionless, as uncaring as ever.

“You know what? F*** you, Bruce, f*** you. I won’t let you do this to us anymore. I meant what I said.”

“It was a necessary sacrifice, Jason made the decision himself. The rest of you may die because of his error now.”

Bruce turned back to his work.

This would be his downfall.

In his hands Dick held two knives, one in each hand.

He was wearing his Nightwing gear, and countless weapons were hidden on his person.

Dick was ready for a fight to the death.

Infection

 Dick found himself in a small cell. It was maybe eight feet long and six feet wide, with a height of six feet. There was a thin mattress on the floor, taking up eight by two feet of the space. A hole with a diameter of about eight inches was in the corner, and water trickled endlessly out of a faucet in the wall above it. The floor of the room seemed tilted ever-so-slightly in the hole’s direction. It didn’t exactly throw his balance off, but it did make him feel a little odd at times. 

 He’d been here for about three days, as far as his internal clock knew. Food was pushed through a small, one-way window in the wall opposite the side the mattress was on. He’d tried catching it when it was open, but his hand wouldn’t fit through, and there was no light on the other side.

 He had only his bottoms and the mattress, not much to work with.

 They’d taken him as Dick Grayson, so he couldn’t do a lot anyway.

 He exercised and stretched, ate the two times they’d given him food. He drank a little of the water, and wondered whether this was normal civilian behavior.

 At the moment, he was sitting on the mattress, back against the wall, staring at the wall opposite.

 That’s when it happened.

 Screeching filled the air, and so did the sounds of rapidly flapping wings. Dick looked up. Faster than he could react, a small hole had opened in the ceiling and released three small bats into the room. He stood, but the hole was already closed by the time he’d gotten to his feet.

 The bats flew towards him, still screeching.

 He stared at them. What were they here for?

 The bats were so small, maybe three inches long in body length. He estimated their wingspan to be about nine inches from tip to tip. Their bodies were a color combination of dark browns, light browns, and light grays. There was a white ring of fur around their necks, and their heads were small with darkly colored ears, a long beak-like mouth, and big yellow eyes.

 Dick knew a lot about bats, but he didn’t recognize these, which was a little concerning. Especially since he was here to be experimented on. The bats looked like normal fruit bats, but Dick knew how looks could be deceiving. Should he kill them? He wondered.

 No, that wouldn’t be very civilian-like. Plus, the bats looked kind of cute. In the end, he decided to ignore them for neither of these reasons, but because the scientists that captured him had also captured his family; and their captors surely had cameras hidden in the cell, if they saw him do anything they didn't like they might decide to go back on their end of the deal, assuming that they had kept their word so far.

 --

 Day 1, Two Weeks Later

 Dick awoke, feeling like crap. His muscles ached, reminding him of their presence each time he moved. His joints weren’t doing much better.

 This wasn’t new, exactly. He had been here for a while after all. It wasn’t new, but it was certainly different. 

 At least a week ago, the first time he’d woken up covered in droppings, he had briefly reconsidered his no-killing fruit bats policy. But it hadn’t mattered anyway, when they died a few days later.

 He’d shoved any evidence of them into the hole in the corner, not caring for once about whether it would anger his captors or not. The smell was awful, and no amount of water seemed to help. Even now, traces still lingered.

 Dick pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. Hmmm…maybe a fever?

 The food slot opened up, and a piece of bread sitting on a thin square of cardboard slid through.

 He crawled over to it, knowing he needed to keep up as much strength as he could.

 Dick thought of his family, he hoped they were okay.

 Jason was back from the dead, alive in the eyes of the public, it was finally official.

 Bruce had been back for years now, it was almost as if he had never left.

 Dick didn’t know how to feel about that.

 Tim was doing well, he seemed to be happy.

 Damian came to Blüdhaven every other weekend to hang out.

 Cass was in town, back from Hong Kong and here to stay. 

 Steph immediately decided to have a prank war with Cass not-so-secretly on her side.

 It was short lived, but no less fun. 

 None of them had meant to be in the same place at the same time, that night.

 But as it was, Dick should have known the peace wouldn’t last.

 --

Day 3

 Dick stared at the food, swallowing nothing with his dry mouth. There was a pounding in his head, and sweat dripped down his face. He blinked. 

 I need to eat, he thought. But the sight of food just made his empty stomach clench in further pain. It was so far away too…even in this tiny little cell, he could not reach the food with his arm outstretched. When he shifted to the edge of the mattress, his fingers were still a couple inches away. The stone floor was cold and hard. He did not have the energy to move, nor the will to eat.

 Ah, so ironic, that what had made him so sick had probably been the bats.

 His throat was sore and his lips were cracked. He knew he needed water too, and soon, or he might dehydrate and die. But who was he kidding? He was probably going to die anyway, why not just let death take him?

 But no, he already knew the answer to that. Dick would fight to live, if only to see his family one last time.

 Dick coughed, yeah, definitely just a cold. He refused to believe it was anything else. Those damned bats wouldn't be the death of him, not if he could help it.

 Mind made up, he made the strategic decision to drag himself to the space between the hole with the water pouring down and the little food window.

 In the end, it was only Dick who was supposed to be there.

 He’d mentioned it offhandedly to Damian, and maybe Tim, but he knew they’d be busy tonight.

 Everyone else would be busy tonight, Dick told himself, that’s why he didn’t tell them about this.

 Really though, it was because he kind of wanted some time to himself.

 Time to just be out and about, in the city that had been his home for years.

 He wanted to take a break from helping the people in his own city, and this was the only way his conscience would allow him to do it.

 —by helping the people in another city.

 Dick wasn’t going to overthink the implications of that.

 This specific event was important to him too, he’d volunteered here a lot when he was younger and feeling down, it had helped him through a couple of rough times.

 Just being able to see the people he protected up close, meeting with them and learning more about them, it helped remind him of the humanity he risked his life for every night.

 The soup kitchen was opening a new branch, closer to crime alley than any they had before. 

 Dick knew it was a big day for them, there were only a hundred or so people in the volunteer organization after all, and they had only four locations in all of Gotham.

 There were no soup kitchens in the city that weren’t a part of that organization.

 Because of this, Dick wanted to be there, just in case.

 Crime Alley was a dangerous part of Gotham, and even as just a civilian, he could still protect the people as a man who has police training, who’s just a phone call away from the Bats of Gotham. 

 Dick strode through the crowd, inconspicuously dropping an envelope into the donations box.

 He had turned to check the perimeter for a second time when it happened.

 Someone accidentally ran into him, knocking his glasses askew, pushing his hat off his head, effectively dismantling his poor disguise.

 There was a quiet click soon after, and Dick’s head swiveled to look, finding a young woman, staring at him, mouth ajar.

 Her phone was in her hands, held up with the camera aimed straight at him.

--

Day 5

Dick’s vision was blurred, he could not remember…

 Pain erupted in his stomach, and Dick groaned, dropping his head down as bile filled his mouth. He thinned his lips, attempting to suppress the urge to vomit for the umpteenth time.

 It didn’t work.

 The contents that had previously been within his body spilled out, splattering across his bare thighs, some falling into the hole below. He flinched back, knocking his head against the wall, panting.

 It was warm, sliding off his legs, pooling around him on the floor.

 Dick felt miserable.

 Vaguely, in the back of his mind, he heard the sound of the food slot opening.

 He turned his aching head, and for a moment, his vision became clearer. He tried to reach for the food, but his arm wouldn’t move.

 Dick’s gaze dropped down, refocusing on the dark splotches he found there. His skin was marred with them, up and down his arms, across his chest and all over his legs. The rashes were hideous against his pale, bruised skin. 

 He must’ve removed his pants at some point, but he couldn’t remember where they went...

 Something dripped, hitting his thigh in wet, warm droplets. Dick brought his hand up weakly to touch his face. 

 It came away wet with blood.

 There was only one thing this could be, and he could no longer hide from the truth.

 He had been infected with Ebola.

 Damian came, arriving straight from his parent-teacher conferences, acting glum and muttering about imbeciles.

 Bruce was at his side, looking exhausted.

 “We left early, he remembered you mentioning this and wanted to see you right away.”

 Dick nodded to him, filing away the information for later.

 Damian didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk.

 Regardless, the boy practically glued himself to Dick’s side.

 “Are we late to the party?” said a voice from behind him.

 It was Jason, standing with his arm slung casually around Steph’s shoulders, Cass not far behind the two, busy observing all the people around them.

 “Jason?” Dick was surprised, “How--”

 “It’s all over the internet,” interrupted Steph, waving her phone.

 The screen displayed the picture that one lady must've taken.

 “We wanted to see what the Big Bird was up to, being that you’re back in town and all.”

 Internally, Dick cursed.

 This wasn’t what he wanted.

 Well, maybe some good could still come of it at least, now that Bruce was here, they could donate a more sizable sum of money.

 Tim arrived on the scene a few moments later, claiming boredom and a curiosity about why Dick would leave his own city to come to Gotham to help like this.

 It was a half an hour after Tim’s entrance when the three white vans pulled up, and out came four thugs from each.

--

Day 7

 Dick hiccupped, feeling as if his entire body had been drained of anything that had ever made it useful. All that was left was agony. Pain was overwhelming his mind, the copper tang of blood filled the air, and dying parts of his body were everywhere he looked

 He wanted to cry, but he was too dehydrated, and the water was too far away… 

 Dick lay on the floor of his cell, staring at nothing as blood made its way down his face, pouring down from his eyes, a mockery of the tears he’d once been able to shed. The crimson streaked down from his nostrils as well, it trickled out of his ears. He coughed wetly, yet more of the coppery fluid came out, heading down to mix with the rest of it all. These weren’t the only places he was bleeding from, it just had to come out of every orifice, and Dick’s body could not refuse. The pain was intense, all he wanted was for it to finally end. Hadn’t he suffered enough already?

 This was it, he knew. There would be no coming back from this. He knew now why the room was tilted in such a way. All his bodily fluids only had one direction in which to flow. He was disgusted with himself, and ashamed, deep down, for being forced to live in his own filth.

 Yes, he was ready to go, to leave his destroyed body behind. He only hoped his family would not find him like this, he did not want them to see, nor did he want them to get infected.

 It would undo everything he had worked so hard to protect, after all.

 “Let us go!” Dick yelled, “What do you want with us? We can’t give you money if you have all of us.

 He was the first to awaken from the drugged sleep, and so the first to bargain for the safety of his family.

 “We don’t want money, we just want a healthy subject with which we can experiment..” whispered the voices.