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Chapter Text

Nightwing was no match for Ra's al Ghul, and both men knew it. But the villain had sent all of his minions to Batman, forcing Nightwing to fight him. The escrima sticks were useless against the two long swords wielded by Ra's; the young hero couldn't get close enough for them to be effective. He could only use them to block the villain's quick, strong strikes.

He was holding his own, but it wouldn't last much longer. One of Nightwing's weapons had already been thrown off a cliff, and the twenty-year-old's muscles were screaming for relief. Suddenly, Ra's lowered his swords. Nightwing thought about using his speed to get close, but then the man started talking.

"You are brave, strong, and intelligent," he began. "You will be very useful to me."

Nightwing was breathing heavily, trying to regain control of both his body and the situation. He managed to chuckle, the sound full of disbelief.

"Thanks for the compliments, but the word you want is could, not will. I could be useful, if I suddenly became an idiot and joined you."

"You would be an idiot if you did not join me. You have no chance of defeating me; that is a fact you already know. I can see it in your eyes."

"Then I'll go down fighting. I will not betray everything I stand for, everything Batman stands for, just to spare my own life. If the roles were reversed, would you give up?"

"No, because that is a scenario that could never come to pass."

"Then you understand. And I said 'if'."

"Why are you so loyal to that man? He has done nothing for you."

"Batman aims for justice, not power. All you want is power."

"But you are strong enough that you could one day take over the organization. I will teach you how to lead, how to become a better fighter, how to be a man."

"Thanks, but I'm already a man. I grew up, tends to happen to everyone."

"Physically, yes, but mentally you are still young and impressionable. And so very emotional."

Nightwing didn't know what to say to that. He was tiring of the conversation, but it was allowing his body to regain energy, so he wasn't going to stop it.

"So I'm not stoic, nobody gives a crap about that," he commented. "People are different, including heroes and villains."

"I am not a villain," Ra's snapped.

"Yeeeeeah, can't agree with you on that one. We don't have much to agree on, do we? Guess I'm not cut out for your organization; I'm not one of your little lemmings who will follow you anywhere."

"I will give you one more chance. Choose wisely, or send yourself to your doom," the man threatened darkly.

"Can I have a moment to think about it?" Nightwing asked.

He paused for exactly two seconds, not enough time for Ra's to even open his mouth.

"Just considered it carefully, and the answer is still no," the younger man quipped.

"Then you have sealed your fate."

With a shrug, Nightwing stated, "So be it."

He had no time to react. Before he could raise his escrima stick to block it, a curved sword plunged itself into Nightwing's torso and was quickly yanked out. The hero's eyes widened in shock, and the useless weapon dropped to the ground. He looked down, astonished at how much blood was suddenly gushing out of him.

"We could have been good together," Ra's commented, then turned around and left.

Nightwing dropped to his knees and attempted to cover the gaping hole in his stomach with his trembling hands. He had known this was going to happen, but he hadn't known it would hurt so much. In the back of his mind, the hero knew it was better than becoming a slave to a villain.

Nightwing could feel the coldness of shock seeping into his bones, making him shiver. His body involuntarily tilted sideways, then crumpled onto the ground. The hero's hands were still pressed against his torso in a futile attempt to stop the blood flowing out of the wound. He thought that maybe he should try to get up, but the waves of pain coursing through his stomach convinced him to stay still.

His breathing was coming in short gasps, and the young hero vaguely understood that his time was nearly up. Nightwing closed his eyes.

Fifty men. Ra's al Ghul had sent fifty men to the other side of the complex, where Batman was easily disarming the bomb. Why had the villain placed a bomb in the home of his own organization, and why was it so simple to disable?

It's a trap.

Batman decided that the trap was for him when men began pouring into the room. Well-trained assassins, ready to carve him to pieces. He knew that he had little chance of surviving, but was determined to go down fighting.

Instead of surrounding him, the men fought in small units. When one group of three grew tired, they were replaced by another. This, Batman knew, was very unusual. They could have killed him within two minutes if they had all converged at once. It was like they were toying with him, keeping him occupied while also tiring him out.

And then he realized that the trap was for Nightwing. Ra's was nowhere in sight, which meant he was going after the younger hero. The assassins were keeping him occupied, that was their one job. Not to kill him, not right now. That would come later, after Nightwing was already dead or dying.

Because, Batman knew, Ra's al Ghul was going to attempt to get Nightwing to join him. Just like he had done with Batman before. And there was no possible way in the entire universe that the villain would be able to convince Nightwing to join his side. Nightwing was too good, too pure for the evils of a man like Ra's.

But Nightwing was also no match for the man. Batman knew it, Nightwing knew it, and Ra's probably knew it. Or, if the villain hadn't known before, he would soon. The twenty-year-old was fast, and strong, and nimble. But Ra's was stronger, and his weapons were much more deadly. Nightwing wouldn't be able to get close enough to do damage to his opponent, so Nightwing was going to lose.

"Why do you have to make it so dang hard to find you?!" a voice behind him exclaimed angrily.

Several gunshots rang out, taking down six men without killing them. Red Hood jumped into the fray, followed by Red Robin. Batman was both relieved and concerned. Even with the three of them, there was very little chance of winning against forty-four men.

More shots echoed around the room, and eight more assassins dropped to the floor.

Unless he uses his guns.

Batman glanced at each fallen man as he continued to fight the small units. Incapacitated, but not dead. Jason was improving. It took them twenty minutes to finish off the assassins. Batman didn't like the use of the guns, but he had to admit that the three of them might be on the floor themselves if not for Red Hood's good aim and multiple weapons.

"Robin," the Caped Crusader growled.

"At home," Red Robin answered. "Agent A didn't give him a choice when we found out where you were."

Batman grunted in approval as Red Hood asked, "Nightwing?"

"Comm cut out sixteen minutes ago. Fan out, but stay close," Batman commanded. "We don't need anyone getting ambushed with no backup."

The boys nodded and they began their search. Batman went straight, Red Hood went right, and Red Robin went left. Red Hood was the first to see him, a pile of flesh on the hard dirt on the farthest side of the complex.

"Have visual, he's down! Courtyard on your right!" he yelled.

The three heroes converged and stopped in momentary shock. Nightwing was more than just 'down'. His eyes were closed, his face was abnormally pale, and there was blood all around him. It was spreading out, and they all knew exactly what that meant: he was still bleeding.

Batman reacted first, racing to the fallen hero and dropping to his knees, not caring that he was in the middle of a pool of fresh blood. He carefully turned Nightwing onto his back in order to find the source of the blood. It wasn't hard to find.

There was a gaping hole, partially covered by Nightwing's limp hands, that could only have been made by a sword. Red Hood and Red Robin arrived just as Batman pressed his hands down on the wound. Nightwing didn't react to the hard pressure, didn't even flinch or quietly groan.

"Is he…gone?" Red Robin asked softly, fear in his voice.

Red Hood had one hand on Nightwing's neck, searching in vain for a pulse. His other hand was on the fallen hero's chest, hoping that it would soon begin to rise and fall, even if it was shaky or slow.

"I've…got nothing, B," Red Hood stated, despair filling his voice.

"No, he's not gone," Batman snapped. "We can bring him back from this. Red Robin, gauze and wrap. Red Hood, listen instead of feel."

The boys immediately did as they were told, a rare occurrence. Red Robin's hands dove into his utility belt and grabbed a roll of gauze. He had no wrap, so without asking he opened a pocket in Batman's belt. A pocket he was very familiar with, having spent time as Robin and needing to use Bat-wrap more than once.

Red Hood kept a finger on Nightwing's neck and laid his head on the man's chest, not caring that blood was now creeping into his hair. He heard nothing, so he pressed his ear down harder. Closing his eyes, he mentally counted to ten, his ears focused solely on finding a sound from inside the body.

Batman had stuffed gauze into the wound and was now holding the entire roll of Bat-wrap on Nightwing's stomach. The blood slowed to a trickle, then stopped completely.

"Red Hood."

The young man shook his head as he lifted it off Nightwing's chest and dropped his arms.

"He's gone, B, I've got nothing."

The declaration caused a quiet sob to escape the mouth of Red Robin. Batman felt the tears welling up, but refused to let them fall. He needed to be strong. Nightwing, his brave, strong, valiant, good-hearted, eldest son…was gone.

Chapter Text

Nightwing felt pressure on both his stomach and chest, but didn't have the strength to react. He heard murmurs, familiar voices talking, although he couldn't figure out the words. The hero couldn't breathe, and the pain was so intense that he didn't want to even try. His heart, however, refused to give up. It was beating, just barely, but not enough for anyone to feel or hear.

A word made it into his mind – gone. A choking sound from somewhere, and the pressure on his torso increased. Nightwing wanted to say goodbye, wanted to ask whoever was there to let him go and leave, but his body wouldn't allow him to do it.

Suddenly, the pressure was gone and Nightwing could breathe again. It hurt to do it, but he automatically drew in a gasping wheeze. Loud voices assaulted his hearing, and another word made it through – stay.

But Nightwing didn't want to stay. He wanted to go, leave the pain behind and free himself from the loud voices. The hero tried to say no, but wasn't strong enough to do anything, including trying to speak.

His body was moving, and he didn't know why. He went from a surface that was hard to one that was a little softer. The movement caused his heart to speed up. Something hit his neck, and the voices became even louder.

Batman finally removed his blood-soaked hands from Nightwing's torso. He didn't want to believe it, but the evidence was right in front of him. Ra's was going to regret this; he had just brought the wrath of the entire Bat-family upon his head. A quiet sound, almost like a wheeze, caused him to look at his son's face. It was still slack and pale, but the lips were parted and another soft gasp exited the boy's mouth.

"Nightwing, come back!" Red Robin suddenly yelled. "Stay with us, please!"

"I've got a pulse!" Red Hood shouted, his finger pressed against Nightwing's neck again.

Batman ripped off his cape and laid it on the hard ground. Carefully, he and Red Hood picked up the limp body and moved it gently onto the cape.

"Stay with us, son," the man whispered.

"We can't stay here," Red Hood stated. "Ra's is still around somewhere and his team of assassins won't be down for much longer."

"We can't move him, he'll bleed out!" Red Robin exclaimed.

"He already bled out and we took care of it! We gotta go!" Red Hood shouted.

"Enough!" Batman commanded. "Red Hood is right, we have to leave. I packed the wound tightly and we'll wrap it just as tightly. Go!"

The command caused them to jump into action. Red Hood snatched the still-folded Bat-wrap off the top of Nightwing's body. Batman carefully lifted the young man's torso, and the boys began wrapping. It took less than two minutes. The Caped Crusader lowered Nightwing's torso and then wrapped his cape around his son's motionless form.

"Red Hood, the Bat-jet is at the bottom of the mountain. You're the fastest, go get it," Batman demanded as he gently picked up Nightwing.

Normally, Red Hood would have argued that Batman couldn't order him around anymore. This, however, was about saving Nightwing, and he wasn't going to take any chances with Nightwing's life. He took off down the mountain, Red Robin and Batman following but going much more slowly.

"Only mostly dead. There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead. Mostly dead is slightly alive."

Batman glanced sideways at Red Robin and asked, "Are you actually quoting 'The Princess Bride' right now?"

"We're not doing anything except walking and I need to think about something other than what I just saw," the boy replied.

The Bat-jet suddenly rose in front of them. Red Hood lowered the stretcher that was kept in the back for emergencies. Batman gently placed Nightwing on it and sent Red Robin up the rope ladder that Red Hood had also lowered. The Caped Crusader hesitated, one hand on the ladder. He wanted to go after Ra's al Ghul.

"Batman, Nightwing needs you more!" Red Robin wisely yelled down, already knowing what the man was thinking about doing. "We'll take care of Ra's later!"

With a short nod, Batman followed the advice of his third Robin. Ra's could wait, Nightwing could not.

"You should be worried, Ra's," he whispered to the wind as he began his ascent. "Very worried."

THE END