Chapter Text
Really, you should have known operating a safehouse for vigilantes would catch up with you. You'd been warned that offering to help them would mean you were at risk if any of Gotham's numerous villains found out about you. The boys would sometimes stay away for weeks at a time if they thought they were being watched or if they were involved in a seriously dangerous case. According to Red Hood, they'd even been lectured by Batman about putting you at risk through their repeated visits, but these were your friends and none of you were willing to give up on that so easily.
And now you're paying the price.
The fucking Riddler. Of all the inmates in Arkham, he just had to be the one who figured out where you lived. Puzzled out as he put it, because of course that was how he worded it.
You are tied to a chair with a bomb strapped on your chest, and The Riddler keeps droning on and on with a monologue you can only halfway understand, fading in and out of consciousness. His henchmen weren't exactly gentle with getting you from your apartment to wherever the warehouse he's using as a hideout is, and you hadn't made it easy on them, fighting back with what you'd learned from the guys in your time patching them up and hanging out with them. You just wish they'd taught you more.
The Riddler keeps assuring you that you're the perfect bait and that your beloved will have no trouble finding you if he's clever, which doesn't even make sense. Sure you consider them all your friends, but you have no idea if they feel the same or if they just like the convenient location of your apartment and stealing your snacks, let alone which of them The Riddler believes is your one true love or whatever.
None of the guys have ever even mentioned past cases involving The Riddler, but considering until recently he'd been in Arkham maybe you shouldn't be surprised. You hear a lot more about whatever asshole of the week they're currently dealing with than their past work (with the exception of embarrassing stories. Those get brought up again and again).
Right now you're wishing you knew more about the current asshole situation, because if he keeps yammering in the background your headache is only going to get worse. Well, it might get worse on its own. You're pretty sure you have a concussion, and you're pretty sure you're not supposed to fall asleep, but no one is actually trying to keep you awake and it's almost easier to close your eyes and try to tune out the monologue behind you than it is to stay awake and risk being asked to solve riddles yourself.
Things never work out in your favor, though. The Riddler has decided his monologuing needs an audience, at least for a moment, and you feel gloved hands tapping across one of your shoulders, making you tense up as you lift your head to glare at him.
"You don't seem very confident that your darling Romeo is going to come save you. Usually my hostages are screaming by now that I 'won't get away with this' or something similar. Talk to me. Did we get the address wrong? Are you just that concussed? I need you awake and terrified for maximum effect, you know. I've been working on this for ages, and I really need everyone to play their parts."
He's talking to you as if this is some sort of school play and not a kidnapping with a literal actual bomb strapped over your pajamas. You give him a look that's equal parts furious and bewildered, and The Riddler actually sighs like he's some disappointed school guidance counselor and you a wayward youth.
It takes a moment for you to find your voice, but when you do you almost wish you hadn't spoken, because it's apparently your turn to not be able to shut up. In your defense, you're almost definitely concussed.
"Look, I'm not sure what's going on with the whole beloved and Romeo thing, but I'm not dating anyone. Whoever you're expecting to bait me with, I don't know if it's really gonna work. They're my friends, but like, there's nothing romantic there. Sorry to ruin your plan, now please can I go home? I have the morning shift tomorrow and if I call out without six hours notice I could get fired. Also I just got my top surgery, please don't kill me before I get the chance to actually enjoy the results."
"Just friends?" The Riddler sniffs disdainfully, "Not ideal, but I can still work with that. They'll just have to think a bit harder on the riddle is all. No, I'm afraid I can't let you go. But don't worry, there's still plenty of time left before you're in any more danger."
Somehow, you don't find that very comforting.
-----
Across town, Nightwing and Red Robin have just stopped into your apartment, ostensibly for a quick patch job on a minor stab wound, but also because Red Robin is kind of hungry. Both the injury and hunger are forgotten when they see what can only be one of the Riddler's clues. It's lit by a tiny LED, the green question mark blinking and casting an eerie glow across the otherwise dark room. Tim takes a step towards it, but Dick holds him back.
"We should let Hood know first," he says, with the silent 'you know how he feels about him,' heavily implied in his tone.
Tim nods and flicks on his communicator. "Hood, trouble at the favorite safehouse. Occupant's missing and there's a riddle here."
There's a beat of silence and then Jason's voice comes through on the other end, tense as expected. "Fuck. On my way. I'll bring the brat with me."
With backup inbound, Tim and Dick turn on the lights and investigate, leaving the clue untouched in case opening the envelope triggers something. There's signs of a struggle, but luckily the bloodshed seems minimal, which Dick can only hope means you're not too injured.
It's two minutes later when Damian and Jason arrive, and both head straight for the green envelope on your couch. It looks much less dangerous with the lights on, but the fact that you're missing remains.
Desperation makes Jason faster on his feet, and he slices open the envelope with quick efficiency, not bothering to check it for any sort of trap.
-----
In the warehouse across town, the bomb against your chest gives a startling click and then the rhythmic ticking begins.
"Ah," The Riddler says with a smile that makes you shudder. "It seems the show's begun."
You really hope the guys are having a smart day.
-----
Back in your apartment, Damian examines the device in the envelope while Jason reads the clue out loud.
"I hurt the most when lost, yet also when not had at all. I’m sometimes the hardest to express, but the easiest to ignore. I can be given to many, or just one. What am I?" Jason reads it silently a few more times, brow furrowed in concentration.
"The envelope is addressed to Nightwing specifically," Damian calls out, "and there's some sort of remote device inside of it. Whatever it is, opening it triggered it."
"What!?" Jason asks, spinning to look at his brothers with growing panic, the paper clue fluttering from his hand. "Can you figure out what it controls? What it connected to? Shit, I thought it was just a wire for the stupid light..."
"Why was it addressed to me?" Dick glances around your living room, bewildered.
"Answer's pretty obvious," Tim pipes up, holding the discarded clue. "Think about whose apartment we're in. Think about who's missing. It's addressed to one person specifically, and the riddle's answer is definitely love."
"What the hell are you talking about?" two voices ask in unison, Dick confused and Jason horrified.
"I'm not in love with him," Dick adds, dumbfounded. "Ja-- Hood is, but I'm not." Hood does not refute the statement, but he does glare and begin to pace.
"But does The Riddler know that? You brought flowers by the other day, and you've been here more often the past few weeks," Tim continues.
"The flowers were an 'I'm glad you survived surgery, get well soon' gift, and I was visiting to help him change his bandages and make sure he was doing okay..." Dick huffs, but Tim just gives a pointed look.
"Which, while totally friendly from you, could be viewed as romantic actions by an outsider."
"So The Riddler thinks I'm in love with him, and he kidnapped him because...?"
"Because you're the one that put him in Arkham most recently," Damian speaks up, breaking up the back-and-forth. "It's a classic revenge tactic."
"Fuuuuck," Jason groans, throwing his hands up. "So he's using my stupid fucking crush as stupid fucking bait for stupid fucking Nightwing!?"
Dick places a careful hand on Jason's shoulder, stilling him. "Hey, we'll find him, we'll get him back, and then we'll get him a better apartment. Once he's safe, you can ask him out. We'll let you take all the credit for finding him, and it'll be fine."
"We are not letting Hood take all the credit," Damian huffs.
"We can argue about credit and who's asking someone out once your friend is safe," Bruce snaps, climbing through the window. "I've been trying to reach you four over the comms for ten minutes now."
That seems to remind the brothers just what's at stake, and they begin divvying up tasks for tracking you down.