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It’s the last night of the year and Bruce is spending it frantically searching a series of deserted tunnels for the missing Nightwing. Rarely has he seen a mission go bad so fast. In Dick’s last communication he had reported that everything was on track and he had planned to be home in time to drink some New Year’s champagne. But a few hours later with no word from Dick, Bruce had decided that he was going to take matters into his own hands.
Even though Dick’s location signal was no longer visible on their map, Alfred had managed to track down his last known location. And that was how Bruce had ended up here, a network of underground tunnels beneath the city of Gotham that had been built by one criminal gang or another. The tunnels are freezing, dirty and filled with areas of foul smelling water where sewage has leaked in. They are not someplace that Bruce is comfortable with the thought of Dick lying injured for a long period of time. And the fact that someone or something was able to take Dick down is even more worrying.
At first he was cautious, being careful to move as silently as possible, and checking each room before he entered. But as time has passed and he hasn’t seen any living thing other than a few emaciated rats, he starts to let down his guard ever so slightly. Dick is here somewhere and the more time it takes to find him the worse shape he could be in. Silently he calculates how long it will take him to get back to the entrance and redoubles his efforts.
He is just turning another corner when an arm comes up behind him, elbowing him sharply in the head. His first thought is disbelief. It’s impossible that someone could have come up behind him without him hearing, especially in these wet tunnels. He barely has a moment to consider the ramifications before blinding pain spreads through his back. Someone has hit him with a stunning device. Normally a device like that would have minimal effect through his suit, but in seconds he is unable to move and collapses, paralyzed against the tunnel wall.
Moments later he is dragged, helpless, into a pitch black room off one of the tunnels and shoved roughly inside. He lands awkwardly, unable to catch himself as he falls onto the hard concrete. The door is slammed shut and he hears the sound of a latch. He should be able to get out of the room easily enough but at the moment he can’t even move a finger. He can only lie on the cold damp floor as he waits for the effects of the stun gun to wear off. He tries not to think about how every minute he is delayed is a minute more that Dick could be suffering.
As he lies still he listens carefully to his surroundings, trying to see if there is anything that might help him when he recovers. It’s then that he first notices the breathing. Harsh and rasping like a person recovering from a chest cold. He’s not alone in this room.
Unfortunately, there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it until he recovers from the effects of the strange stun gun. The only positive thing is that whoever is in the room with him doesn’t seem to be in any condition to attack him either. Bruce can only assume that they were also stunned and hope that he recovers first.
It’s not a fast process. A normal stun gun doesn’t usually have any effect on him through his suit, and even if it did he would recover within a few minutes. To be able to effectively paralyze him it has to be a much more sophisticated weapon. He hasn’t seen a weapon like that recently but it’s certainly possible that one of the gangs has been able to get their hands on one.
Based on the amount of frustration he feels it seems like hours but it’s actually only about thirty minutes when he starts to feel a tingling in his extremities. Gradually he’s able to move again – just a few fingers at first and then his entire arm. After a few more minutes he is able to painfully push himself up to a kneeling position.
“Hello? Is someone there?” he asks cautiously. No response. It seems like the other person is unwilling or unable to move. He pulls a small light from his utility belt and crawls in the direction of the harsh breathing, careful not to get too close, although after being unable to move himself for thirty minutes he doubts it’s an act.
The light brightens the corner of the room and he sees immediately that it’s a man --naked and in bad shape. Dark bruises cover his chest, some red and some in varying shades of purple. Then, as he shines the light on the man’s face, an almost euphoric feeling of relief washes over him. That’s Dick – that’s Dick and he’s alive. Bruce had never actually allowed himself to acknowledge the possibility that Dick might be dead but it had always been there inside him. It’s a possibility that became a harsh reality many other times in his life, from when he knelt by his parents’ lifeless bodies, to when he held Jason in his arms and many other times since.
He pushes the feelings away as he always does and concentrates on cataloguing Dick’s many injuries. No blood but so many bruises. He runs his hands along Dick’s chest and there are definitely broken ribs, possibly a punctured lung. That could account for the difficulty in breathing. He also has marks around the neck that appear to be from strangulation. There had to have been multiple people involved to leave him in such bad condition.
Dick moans as Bruce’s hands run over a particularly nasty bruise on his side and he starts thrashing.
“Keep still. You’ll hurt yourself.” Bruce holds Dick down as he continues to struggle against him. He still isn’t fully conscious, his eyes just barely open. Bruce uses his ‘this is an order from Batman’ voice in an effort to get his attention. “Nightwing, wake up. Look at me.”
Dick’s eyes open more fully but he still looks disoriented. “Batman? Are you really here?”
“I’m here. I need you to stop moving.” Dick stops thrashing and Bruce releases him. “Moving isn’t going to help those injuries.”
“Why am I—” Dick looks down at himself. “Where’s my suit?”
“I was hoping you could tell me that.”
“I got jumped. It was a group of five or six. They had some sort of weird hi-tech stun gun. I couldn’t move. Then they beat on me for a while when I was paralyzed.” Dick relays it to him in a matter of fact way that would almost sound normal except for the fact that he is now shaking so hard his teeth are clattering. “Why is it so cold in here?”
“Well, one, we’re still in the tunnels. Two, you’re naked.”
Dick glares at him. “It was rhetorical.”
Bruce tries not to smile. “Moving away from this corner would probably help too. You’re lying in a puddle and judging by the smell I’m pretty sure that it’s raw sewage.”
Dick makes a face. “Delightful. I knew I loved it down here.” He tries to move and makes a sharp sound of pain. “I’m not sure about the moving part though.”
“There’s not much of a choice if you want to stay alive while I try to get us out of here.” Bruce tries not to think about how Dick’s lips have taken on a blue cast.
“Wait, how did you get in here?” Dick asks as Bruce helps him move to a sitting position.
“Something very similar to what happened to you. Except with less bruising.”
“You were looking for me.” Dick looks away like he can’t stand to meet Bruce’s eyes. “This is my fault.”
Bruce shrugs. “I’ve had worse New Year’s Eves. It’s not ideal, but still better than the company party at Wayne Enterprises.”
Dick manages a laugh. “That I can actually believe.”
Bruce tries to keep talking—keep Dick engaged so that he is less focused on the pain, but it’s difficult. He is barely able to stand even with Bruce supporting him and the shaking keeps getting worse. Using the light, he manages to maneuver Dick over to a slightly drier corner of the room. He helps Dick lean against the wall and covers him with his cape while he goes to examine the door. Even if he is able to get out of the room quickly it’s going to be difficult to get Dick out of this maze of tunnels without help and his com is still out of range.
He looks at the door closely. It’s heavy, made of something like reinforced steel so there’s no way he’ll be able to break it down. It’s also latched from the outside. There is a small amount of space visible under the door, however, which means that it isn’t completely impenetrable. With some effort he should be able to use his tools to dislodge the latch. Unfortunately, it’s also going to take time, something Dick doesn’t have a lot of at the moment. He should search the room and make sure there are no other potential exits. Before he can finish the job he hears Dick calling his name.
“I’m here. How are you holding up?” He can already tell from the increase in shaking that it’s not good.
“I’m okay—I just, wanted to make sure it wasn’t a dream. You being here.”
“It wasn’t a dream,” Bruce confirms and brushes Dick’s hair back from his face. He leans into the touch.
“You’re so warm,” Dick says, his speech slurring slightly.
Bruce removes one of his gloves to get a better idea of Dick’s temperature. His skin is clammy and like ice to the touch. He sighs and puts his glove back on. Dick’s body temperature has dropped significantly. He can tell that it’s getting to dangerous levels. His desire to get them both out of there as soon as possible is warring with his desire to get Dick’s body temperature back up to something at least a little closer to normal.
“Come here.” Bruce sits against the wall of the room and pulls Dick towards him. “Lean against me.” Gradually he is able to get Dick situated so that he is pressed against him, Dick’s face turned into his neck. Bruce makes sure his cape is tucked tightly around Dick so that as little skin as possible is exposed. They sit that way for a while as he listens to Dick’s raspy breathing. Just when he thinks Dick might have fallen asleep he starts to speak.
“Are you sure this is okay?” Dick asks. His voice lowers and he adds, “I thought you didn’t like to touch me.”
The last part is said in a mumble but Bruce doesn’t have to ask him to repeat it. “I think you know that’s not true.” God, he hopes Dick doesn’t remember this later. “Sometimes I don’t trust myself around you.” From Dick’s sharp intake of breath he can tell that he has been heard and understood.
"Bruce—"
“You should stop talking. Conserve your energy.” Dick presses in closer and Bruce holds him tightly against his body, trying to rub some warmth back into his icy skin, careful to avoid the worst of the bruises. Gradually, the shaking slows and then stops, but his breathing is still harsh.
“That feels good,” Dick says finally, sounding drowsy. “I like it when you touch me. Maybe you could do it in some place that doesn’t smell like a sewer next time.” His voice sounds so hopeful that it makes Bruce’s heart beat faster. He freezes for a second and then continues rubbing Dick’s arms and shoulders.
“We’ll see if we make it out of here alive first,” he finally responds and presses a soft kiss against Dick’s hair. Dick makes a little huff of contentment and clings to him more tightly. Bruce allows it for a few more minutes and then starts to disentangle himself, ignoring Dick’s noises of protest. “I have to get us out of here now, Nightwing.” He uses Dick’s alias in an effort to put some professional distance between them. It seems to work and Dick releases him, leaning back against the wall with a sigh.
“Close your eyes and rest,” Bruce orders and is relieved when Dick obeys without protest. He pulls out his tools and goes back to working on the door.
An hour later they are free.
***
Getting Dick out of the maze of tunnels back to an area where their communicators work isn’t the easiest task. Dick is groggy and disoriented, and doesn’t seem to be able to walk in a straight line. Bruce considers carrying him but Dick won’t allow it and Bruce doesn’t want to fight him in his current condition. But in addition to not having clothes, he’s also not wearing shoes and Bruce worries that his feet might get frostbitten, wading through areas of dirty water that are barely above freezing.
Just when he thinks Dick might be out of it enough that he won’t protest being carried he gets a call on his com. They must finally be back within reception range.
“Batman, Batman, are you there?” It’s Alfred voice sounding slightly panicked and Bruce breathes a sigh of relief. Dick is barely conscious and he lowers him to the ground gently.
“I’m here. Can you get a read on our location?”
“Affirmative. Do you need me to direct you out?”
“Yes. Nightwing is injured. We need a pick-up at the closest exit.”
“What is his condition?” Alfred hides it well but Bruce picks up on the concern in his voice.
“Bruising, some broken ribs, possible punctured lung and severe hypothermia.”
“Understood. I’ll make sure we have the necessary medical supplies on hand.”
Bruce puts the communicator down and leans over to help Dick stand. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are barely open. Bruce’s cape is wrapped around him but the protection it provides from the cold is minimal.
“Was that Alfred? Is he coming to get us?” His words have started slurring again and Bruce is thankful that he will soon have the medical help he needs.
“Yes. You just need to hold on a little longer.” Bruce puts his arm around Dick’s shoulder for support and Dick leans heavily against him.
“I knew you would get us out. You always do.” Even in this state, Dick’s blind faith in him hits Bruce in unexpected ways. “Still think this isn’t your worst New Year’s Eve ever?” Dick asks.
“It definitely could have been worse,” Bruce says and pulls Dick more firmly against his side.