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Dick woke up groggily.
That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He worked as a cop during the day and a vigilante during the night, which meant he was used to sleeping very little. His body rarely made the mistake of letting him get more than an hour of deep sleep per night.
His feet felt heavy. It wouldn’t be the first time he fell asleep with boots on. The strange thing was how cold and hard his bed felt. Like stone.
He might as well get out of bed, if it insisted on being so uncomfortable.
He twisted—and smacked his head into a wall.
Dick hissed and rubbed his forehead. Since when was his bed so close to…?
He was not in his bed. Gray stone encompassed his vision when he opened his eyes, the same material that he lay on.
Dick craned his neck up. The stone went on, and on, and on, all the way up to a small ring that showed half a blue sky and half dark, ominous clouds.
He was in a well.
What the hell was he doing in a well?
Either he’d tripped and fallen into the well—unlikely, given the lack of bruises and aches and pains of his body—or someone had put him here.
At least he had his Nightwing suit on. Obviously the would-be kidnappers hadn’t thought this through. He could just grapple—
He didn’t have his grapple.
Well, Dick wasn’t an acrobat for nothing. That translated into rock climbing, didn’t it?
He tried to stand and realized why his feet felt so heavy.
A chain attached both his feet to a steel ball larger than his head, and the cuffs around his ankles had sharp inside edges.
If Dick tried to climb out with the cannonball weighing him down, the cuffs would cut his feet off.
Okay. So maybe his kidnappers were slightly smarter than he’d originally thought. But at least they hadn’t taken his comm!
“Hello, Nightwing to the Cave. Does anyone copy?”
No response.
Right—Duke was asleep, Bruce was off-world, and Steph and Tim were recovering from their latest encounter with Poison Ivy. Black Bat was in Hong Kong, and Damian had been instructed very strictly that he was not to suit up until Dick arrived for their joint patrol. Alfred wouldn’t let Damian ignore that rule, although they would get worried soon when Dick didn’t show up.
Maybe not soon enough, though. Dick had the unfortunate habit of showing up late to any and all events.
Thunder rumbled and the first cold raindrops hit Dick’s upturned face.
He tried again: “This is Nightwing. I need a rescue. Is anyone on comms?” Where was Babs? Oh, right, dinner with the commish tonight. Dammit.
The rain’s intensity increased from a sprinkle to a downpour. In seconds, Dick found himself soaked. And, worst of all, the rain pooled around his feet, not yet more than half a centimeter deep.
But rising quickly.
“Guys?” He slicked his sodden hair out of his eyes. Come on, where were his nosy siblings when he really needed them? “I need an extraction. Do any of you hear me?” Water ran into his mouth with every word he spoke.
The comm crackled and Dick’s oldest little brother snapped, “Cut it out, Dickwing. I’m trying to patrol.”
“Jay,” Dick exhaled with relief. “Listen, I need—”
“I heard you,” Jason said. “And I’m busy right now. Get someone else to save your fat ass.”
“No, you don’t understand—” Dick tried, but the line clicked and the water officially reached his ankles. Fuck. He tried again: “Please, anyone, do you hear me? I’m in trouble. I don’t know where I am and I’m stuck. I’m—” His breath caught. I’m going to drown.
No, he wasn’t.
Out of all the ways he’d imagined dying, drowning had never been on the list.
Dick heaved the steel ball up. He could climb like this, right? Except it was too large to hold with one arm, and climbing one-armed already posed such a risk he would only try it if absolutely desperate.
So that was out of the question.
Dick bent down to inspect the cuffs around his ankles. Water ran in streams down his nose and chin and he could barely see through the downpour. To his dismay, he couldn’t pick the locks. They weren’t even locks. Somehow, his kidnappers had fused the cuffs around his ankles. Dick was only human. He couldn’t bend metal.
He really, really needed Jason.
Dick turned on the comm and chanted, “Jay, I need your help, I need your help, I need your help, I need your help—”
“Oh my God!” Jason snarled into the comm. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“I’m going to drown,” Dick blurted out. “I need you to come find me or I’m going to drown.”
Jason waited three seconds before he said flatly, “What.”
“I think I’m in a well,” Dick said. “And I can’t climb out. And the rain is filling it with water.”
“Is this a joke?”
“Of course it’s not a joke,” Dick snapped. He spat rainwater out of his mouth, took a deep breath, and said, “I wouldn’t joke about this. I really need help. Like, a really strong wire cutter would be best.” The water reached mid-shin, but it barely mattered, since he was already soaked through.
“Okay. Fine. You’re in a well? There are no wells in Gotham.”
“Yeah, I know.” Dick kept wracking his brain about where he could potentially be, but he couldn’t think of a single possibility. “Can you track my location?”
“No,” Jason admitted, “I left that tech at home since almost everyone stayed in tonight.”
“Of course,” Dick sighed. Then a thought occurred to him: “Wait, I still have my flare gun. Do you think you could follow it?”
“If I see it, then yes,” Jason said.
“Okay,” Dick said. “Here goes.”
Hoping desperately that the rain hadn’t soaked it too much, he pulled out his flare gun and pointed it straight up. He squeezed the trigger.
The recoil almost staggered him. The red light shot up, lighting up the raindrops around it like a haze, and flew further and further away.
The water reached Dick’s knees now. His teeth chattered; he was cold. “Did you see it, Little Wing?”
“Shut up, I’m looking.”
Dick counted twelve seconds before Jason exclaimed, “I see you! Shit, what are you doing all the way in Bristol?”
“Bristol!” Dick exclaimed. It made sense.
“I’m probably fifteen minutes away,” Jason said. “Can you last that long?”
Dick said, “I guess I have to.”
Jason hummed, then said, “I’ll make it ten.”
Dick dug his fingers into the side of the well, although he knew it would change nothing; he couldn’t climb out and he couldn’t lose the weight around his ankles unless he wanted to lose them, too. All he could do was wait for Jason.
“Shit,” Jason said two minutes later. The water had just reached Dick’s mid-thigh.
Dick tensed. “What?”
“The road’s flooded. Can you send up another flare?” Jason paused. “Do you have another flare?”
“I think this has three charges.” Dick fumbled with the gun and squinted at its handle, but if any information was printed there, he couldn’t see it in the dim light. “Here goes nothing.” He aimed, squeezed, and hoped; the gun obliged and sent another flare blazing through the air. This one didn’t reach as high a height as the last, but Jason made a sound of encouragement so Dick took it as a win either way.
“Are you almost here, Little Wing?” he asked nervously. The water had just reached his hip.
“I think I’m close,” Jason grunted. “Who still has wells in this day and age, honestly.”
If Dick’s lips weren’t chattering so much, he might agree with a laugh. As it was, he could hardly speak.
“Just hang on, Dickie,” Jason said. “I’m so close, I promise.”
“I know, Jay,” Dick said. “Do you even have wire cutters?”
Jay clicked his tongue. “I can make something work, I’m sure.”
“Right.” Dick nodded his head, although Jason couldn’t see him. Pretending that he was close made Dick feel warmer.
He was so cold. And tired. He just wanted to sit down and fall asleep.
“Dick?” Jason asked sharply.
“Yeah, Little Wing?”
“Talk to me,” he demanded.
The water reached Dick’s stomach. “About what?”
“I dunno. Did you eat anything today besides cereal?”
“No,” Dick grudgingly admitted. “Listen, Special K has strawberries in it. That’s nutrition!”
“Yeah, but Lucky Charms doesn’t,” Jason retorted. “This is why your ass is so fat.”
“Hey!” Dick squawked. “You know, some people would call a fat ass—”
“Ew,” Jason complained, “you’re so gross sometimes. Five minutes away,” he added. “I think. I don’t exactly know where the flare originated, I’m just driving where I first saw it.”
The water reached Dick’s armpits. Maybe he could just swim with the ball until the water reached the top of the well? Dick could climb out and everything would be fine.
He took a deep breath and plunged under the surface of the water. The steel ball felt fifty pounds heavier to his cold muscles, and Dick panted from the effort of swimming it to the water’s surface. He maneuvered onto his back, the ball on his stomach, and tried to kick on the water’s surface, but it was too heavy. With a gasp, the ball slipped out of his grip and thudded back to the bottom of the well. Dick inhaled some water and heaved with a coughing fit.
“—ick. Dick. Dick! Goddamnit, Dickhead, answer me right now!”
“Jay,” Dick said hoarsely. “I’m still here.” The water was over his shoulders now.
“Okay,” Jason said. “I’m going to yell. Tell me if you hear me, okay?” The comm line clicked off.
Dick strained to listen, but couldn’t hear anything over the thunderous roar of the rain as it filled the well. Once the water reached his neck, he tapped into the comm line and said, “I don’t hear anything, Little Wing.” He tried not to, he really did, but his voice quivered just the slightest bit. The water reached his chin. The chain had enough slack that Dick could float about a foot away from the ball before the cuffs started to constrict around his ankles.
The water buoyed him up.
Jason cursed thoroughly. “Okay. Shoot your flare one last time, all right? I’ll find it, I swear. I’ll find you. Just hold on.”
“I know you will, Little Wing. But really,” he added, “it’s not your fault if you don’t.” Jason would beat himself up forever and Dick didn’t want himself to be the reason for his little brother’s guilt.
Dick squeezed the gun’s trigger one last time. As it soared out of the well and lit up the raindrops, hissing, he sucked in one last deep breath before the water closed above his head.