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“Hold on. I’ll get you the window you need. Trust me,” Oracle whispered to no one in particular. She was the only one in the apartment, but that didn’t mean she was alone. Her gaze kept flickering to the monitor at the corner of her desk. A beaten and bruised Nightwing filled the screen. His hands were cuffed behind his back and his ankles were shackled together. He slumped against the wall while his head lolled forward. Despite one eye being closed and the other nearly swollen shut, she sensed that he was actually more conscious than he appeared.
To say she was distracted was the understatement of the century. Her fingers flew across the keyboard by rote, accessing programs and executing commands without the direction of her conscious mind. She brought up every program she had ever put in place for nights like tonight—when one of their own was captured. And, Nightwing wasn’t just one of their own, he was hers. As prepared as she was, she always hoped they would never need her precautions. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she held her breath as the computer continued to churn out data and run the program which kept their identities secure.
Since the first reports of Nightwing’s disappearance from the safe house that morning, Oracle had been on the digital hunt for any glimpse of him. She hadn’t been the only one looking for him, but she had been the first of the good guys to find him. Two blocks from their apartment, she’d caught sight of him from one of the hacked CCTV cameras she had under her command when mercenaries, drawn in by the price on Nightwing’s head, had gotten the drop on him. As the goons outnumbered and overpowered him, Nightwing had dropped to the ground, making certain the camera (and, by proxy, Oracle) got a good view of him before he was knocked out.
After that, it had been only a matter of following the mercenaries’ route through the numerous cameras she had under her command until they reached their hideout. Unable to be the one who physically follow him, Oracle had bit back the stream of frustrated curses that threatened to erupt from the core of her being and called in Bat-backup. None of the others had been in town, which meant the minutes between discovery and rescue dragged towards an eternity. No one had thought Nightwing would be reckless enough to come back to Gotham.
Only, she knew differently. There’s nowhere else he would have gone.
The computer chimed and Oracle let out the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. She’d beaten the mercenaries’ computer genius to the punch as he had run Nightwing’s prints though every known database—both official and unofficial. Nightwing’s identity came back as a man who had been dead for a dozen years before the hero had been born.
She hadn’t meant for the ruse to fool anybody. Rather, she was trying to draw their attention away from him and onto her. So far there wasn’t any reason to worry that they would actually find her. While they were competent, they were no where near her level. Her lip curled as she added layers of distance between her digital footprints and Nightwing. She’d covered her tracks with misdirects and redundant loops that would tie up anyone attempting to digitally track her for hours and still land them in the wrong hemisphere whenever they thought they succeeded.
Her diversion had worked. A moment after the mercenaries had retrieved the misinformation, the guard watching Nightwing’s supposedly unconscious form, was called away from his post. He hurried away from the wall and out of the webcam’s view. For the first time since his capture, Nightwing was free from all watchful eyes save hers alone. His chest hitched as he struggled to breathe. He wriggled against the bonds and worked the problem despite his injuries and exhaustion.
“Come on, Boy Wonder,” she breathed, not daring to look away.
For a flickering moment, as if he could sense her watching, Nightwing’s good eye found the camera and stared back at it, meeting her unblinking gaze. I’m coming home. Trust me, he seemed to say without words, before his head lolled back in an approximation of unconsciousness.
“Oracle, I’m at the location,” Red Robin’s voice broke across the comms, startling her attention back to the myriad of monitors before her. “Can you send me the layout before I go in?”
She didn’t need to be asked twice. Sending blue prints of the hideout and still images captured from the webcam, Oracle adjusted the mic on her headset. She spoke in a voice that was calm, but far from steady, “Red Robin, bring him home.”
Despite the computer pinging with data requests and queries from half the League, Babs ignored them all as she waited. The tracker on Red Robin’s motorcycle marked his progress through the city. She held her breath every time the bike stopped for a traffic light. Every time Red Robin backtracked and took a false turn, Babs counted the seconds of delay.
When Red Robin finally came to a rest outside her apartment, Oracle thought she might have ceased breathing. Her heart had certainly stopped, lodged in her throat as she waited for the other shoe to drop. Not until Dick was safe in her arms, would she be able to breathe normally again.
She rolled to the entryway and opened the door of their apartment. Her fingers curled around her eskrima while her eyes swept the hallway for threats. He was so close, she wasn’t about to let anyone come between them. Above the elevator door, the numbers crawled slowly upward, each floor illuminated with the elevator’s progress. It was taking too long. She half feared they were going backwards. Though a glimpse over her shoulder at the elevator security feed showed Tim and Dick as they progressed to the top floor. While they were dressed in their uniforms, both men had dropped their vigilante masks and were simply themselves.
The elevator doors swished open with a ding louder than one expected. Dick was upright, but he leaned heavily on his brother’s shoulder. His feet scrabbled for purchase with each step and he gasped with each rasped breath, though the pain didn’t register on his face. Locking eyes on Babs, relief melted the anxiety from Dick’s expression.
“Babs,” Dick wheezed in relief as he looked up with unfocused blue eyes and saw her. “You’re okay.”
She bit her lip to keep from crying and reminding him she would be the farthest thing from okay if he had managed to get himself killed with the fool stunt he had pulled today.
“Where do you want him?” Tim asked Babs, ignoring Dick’s squawks of protest. The younger man half dragged Dick into the apartment. Half packed boxes cluttered along the edges of the wall in teetering towers. They’d been preparing to move before Dick had been forced to go into hiding. She had little motivation to continue the process without him.
“Bedroom,” Babs instructed. She locked the door and rearmed the security system. And the back up system. The redundant layers of security nearly made their apartment a fortress, but it was a fortress that was also an obvious target. By the time Babs returned to their bedroom, Dick was alone and sprawled out on the bed. His blood stained the bedsheets in brilliant crimson. The injuries were worse in person than they had appeared over the camera feed.
Babs manoeuvred her chair beside the bed and clasped his hand. Her fingers pressed against his wrist and she almost cried in relief at the weak but steady beat of his pulse. He stirred at the cool pressure of her touch. His bleary gaze struggled to focus on her.
“Dick, why?” She needed to understand his reasons. He had been safe. If Bruce’s predictions were correct, Dick would have been able to come home in another week or two. But, Dick had thrown all their plans up into the air when he had left the security of the safe house.
Before Dick could respond, Tim returned with an oversized first aid kit and placed it on the nightstand beside the bed. He dug through the contents for a package of gauze and a tube of ointment to bind his own wounds. “He won’t be able to stay.”
“I know. Give us tonight, please.”
Tim nodded succinctly, resuming the role of Red Robin. “If you can manage tending his wounds on your own, I’ll head out. Buy you that time and make certain my tracks are covered. I’ll let the others know he’s safe for the moment.”
Babs caught Red Robin by the wrist before he headed out. “Thank you. For everything.”
For a moment, the Red Robin facade faltered and was replaced by the concerned younger brother. With a shrug, he forced his gaze away from Dick’s battered body. “He’s my broth…he’s Dick. He’d do the same for me.”
With that, Red Robin vanished into the night, leaving Babs alone with Dick. She entwined her left hand with Dick’s. Their rings clinked softly against each other and once again Babs had to fight back tears. She lifted his hand to her lips and pressed a series of kisses across his fingertips. His nails were cracked and ragged from scrambling against the bonds. “You’re an idiot Richard Grayson. Why did you have to come? You were safe.”
Dick squeezed her fingers in a pale imitation of his usually strong grasp. His throat was dry and pained, leaving his words a hoarse rasp. “Babs….I couldn’t….stay away…”
And then she knew. She understood why he couldn’t stay away. Earlier today—before he’d run towards her, before he’d been captured—she had idly hoped that he would find his way to her. But, not like this. Never like this.
Her hand dropped to her stomach. Nothing was showing yet. It was too early. None of the others knew yet and she planned to keep it that way for now. This morning Dick and Babs had been gifted fifteen minutes on a secure line. She had told Dick then. The need to share the news with her husband had been overwhelming. It had been a gamble. She had hoped it would give him a reason to stay in hiding, to patiently bide his time until the rest of them were able to dismantle every facet of the organisation that would pay handsomely for Nightwing’s capture and eventual death. While she didn’t know which of their friends had been keeping him hidden, she received reports every few days on how he was doing. He hadn’t been doing well. Between the forced inactivity and not being allowed to go out, Dick had been going stir crazy. He hated being benched and wanted to do something to move the case along, but with every two-bit goon (and quite a few who were much more dangerous) hoping to make a name for themselves by going after the bounty on Nightwing’s head, the safest course of action had been to keep him hidden until the situation was resolved. Anxiety about what he couldn’t control and separation from her was making him impatient and reckless. There hadn’t been a day he hadn’t tried to escape his lonely exile. Apparently, instead of giving him a reason to stay in hiding, the news had brought him to her.
“Let’s check out the damage.” She said instead of the one hundred and one sweet nothings she wanted to whisper in his ear. Instead of chastising him for being more concerned about her than himself.
His breath caught as she carefully peeled off his uniform, leaving his bare skin open to the cool night air. Though his cheeks were flushed, goose pimples covered his exposed skin,.
“My ribs,” he moaned. His bruised and swollen jaw matched the black eye that nearly blocked the vision in his right eye.
She studied the mottled bruising splashed across his side. With a skilled touch she carefully ran cool fingertips over his ribs. She winced in sympathy every time he spasmed in pain. While he never made more than a whimper, the extent of his pain clearly played across his face. As for his ribs, they were certainly strained and sprained, but nothing felt badly broken. Small fractures, but no jagged, broken ends pierced his internal organs.
Small mercies, she thought.
“You should have gone to the Cave.” She continued her examination of his injuries. It wasn’t that she wanted him gone, but at least at the Cave they would have been able to scan for internal injuries. All she could do from here was hope that she didn’t miss anything serious. Beyond his ribs, a number of gashes requiring sutures slashed across his chest and arms. She could handle that. The swelling in his knee worried her. Probing the joint, it felt loose where it shouldn’t have and it wouldn’t straighten completely.
“I didn’t want the Cave.” Dick hissed between gritted teeth and forced his body onto his side. Reaching across the distance, he cupped her face with his calloused hands. He drew her close until his breath was a whisper against her lips. Resting his feverish forehead against hers, he breathed in her scent. “I needed to see you.”
Her examination momentarily forgotten, she leaned in the rest of the way and kissed him. Truth was, she needed to see him too. He’d been in hiding for the past three weeks. Hiding so secure that even the nigh on omniscient Oracle could not find him. Left in the care of friends, Dick had been sequestered away without a trace. He’d broken out of his hiding place and came to the one place anyone might expect to find him. He’d come home.
All the anger and frustration that masked her fear for him, melted away as the kiss deepened. He was here. With her. Safe for the night. He’d be gone with the morning light. Whisked away by another of their friends. Hidden in a new spot. But, they had tonight and she wasn’t going to waste anymore of it with worry. She was the Oracle after all. Her home was secure. If any intruder approached, she’d know about it long before they knew what was in store for them.
As the kiss ended, Dick collapsed back in the bed with an audible moan.
“Let’s get you bandaged,” she murmured, handing him several painkillers and a bottle of water before leaving the room to wash her hands. As she returned, her face was set with determination to finish the task before her. “When we’re done with that, the rest of the night will be ours.”
Dick nodded and wound his hand in their bedsheets while Babs began to clean and stitch the first of the oozing gashes. She worked in silence, occasionally taking a break from the stitching to attend his other wounds. As she tied off the last suture, he exhaled sharply. His fingers limply releasing the sheet.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she spoke softly, wiping away the last traces of blood. She wondered if the words would actually reach him between the haze of pain and exhaustion. Part of her hoped they would not. She wanted him here with her more than words could express, but to see him like this—bruised and beaten—simply for the opportunity to see her…she felt selfish for wanting him. Why had he risked everything when she—they—needed him to come through this ordeal safely?
Swallowing hard, Dick fought the pain for words. At last he exhaled sharply. “I needed to see you tonight.” He reached for her, trailing his fingers along her skin. His fingers fell away from the caress before he reached her stomach.
Carefully she worked her way to the other side of the bed and pulled herself up beside him. She held him gently as she ran her fingers through his hair in featherlight caresses. Despite his overwhelming pain, his body relaxed into hers. Contented, he hummed though his breathing still rattled in his chest.
After a moment, he mumbled something in a whisper too quiet for her to hear.
“What is it?” She didn’t dare move for fear of jostling him.
He licked his lips, winced, and tried again. “Happy anniversary, Babs.”
“You remembered.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead and held him a little closer.
“I’d never forget anything to do with you,” he murmured. His fingers clutched the front of her shirt. “I love you.”
Resting her cheek against his head, she closed her eyes and breathed in his presence. “I love you too.”