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The night had gone south, fast.
It was just supposed to be a routine patrol for Nightwing. He would stop a mugging or two, or maybe a gas station robbery. A couple nice and straightforward petty crimes. Which is exactly what Dick thought he was getting himself into when he came upon a group of masked men at the Gotham docks that were surrounding an unarmed teenager. The poor kid was frantically looking from one assailant to the other as they hounded him, and he was clearly terrified. Dick quickly decided he needed his help as he swung down the fire escape from his position on top of a building nearby.
The cool breeze tugged through his hair as he soared through the air. He was soundless as landed nimbly on the asphalt, and began creeping towards the group, staying in the shadows to remain unseen.
They were backing the teenager towards the water, taking turns shoving him and smacking him in the face.
Dick came up behind the group silently, and once he was in fighting range, called out to grab their attention.
“Hey guys, I’m sure this is very important, but I have it on good authority that harassing minors is a pretty lame way to spend anyone’s Friday night.”
They whirled on him, and the nearest men to him immediately started swinging at him. Dick made quick work of the first two, but all of a sudden, footsteps echoed around him. He was surrounded and outnumbered 50 to 1. And they had the teen at gunpoint now.
It had been a set up.
“Easy now, Nightwing,” the one with the gun to the teen’s head called out. “You’ve been causing too much trouble for my group lately, and it’s time we teach you a lesson. If you cooperate exactly right, this kid may live to see his Algebra class tomorrow. If not, his blood is on your hands.”
The kid was shaking in the man's grip, and flinched heavily as the gun was shoved against his temple.
Dick held up his hands in surrender.
Within a few seconds, he was wrestled to the ground by at least five different men.
“I’m flattered you see me as such a serious threat,” he said, which earned him a kick in the face. His lip split over his teeth and he tasted blood.
They continued to wrestle him into a prone position and pulled his arms behind his back.
“Let’s see how well you can swim with your hands tied,” one said as he brandished a length of rope and began fastening it tightly around Dick’s wrists.
The rough fibers scratched against his skin, digging in tight when the knot was fastened. The man gave his restraint a tug for good measure, lifting him up off the ground slightly, then kicked Dick squarely in between his shoulder blades, grinding his face into the asphalt. He turned his head to the side to avoid breaking his nose, but he had no way to break his impact, and stars danced across his vision when his face slammed into the ground. Small rocks had ground themselves against his face, and he could feel the scratches they left stinging in the night air.
He was too stunned by his sudden impact with the ground to protest as two of the guys hauled him up and began dragging him along the dock towards the river. It had rained all week, and the river was swollen with the rainfall. He could hear the waves splashing against the wooden pilings, indicating how dangerous the current was.
He scrabbled his feet against the ground to try to find purchase, but it was no use. He was hopelessly outnumbered, and he couldn’t risk losing an innocent life.
“Goodbye, Nightwing,” the one on his left said with a sneer as they tossed him off the edge into the fast-moving water below.
Dick plunged into the roaring black water. The cold water took his breath away, and the current pulled him down and under and tossed him every which way. He struggled against the rope tying his arms, but it was no use, there was no way for him to get them undone on his own.
He tried kicking his feet to bring himself to the surface, but he had never been a strong swimmer, and he couldn’t even tell which direction was up.
His lungs were screaming for oxygen, and he needed air NOW. He was spinning out of control, and all he could see was black. He opened his eyes widely, ignoring the sting of the water, and tried to make out anything in the blurred blackness.
Another roll of the current sent him tumbling, and he realized he might actually die in this river. His hands struggled against the restraints, even though he knew it was hopeless. His lungs burned, he needed to breathe, he needed to inhale.
Dick continued to fight and struggle, but his lungs felt like they were exploding. He couldn’t take it anymore, he tried to inhale, and felt water surge into his lungs. The pain stopped. He no longer fought, and his vision began to go dark. He felt the vague sensation of something tugging on his arm, but he couldn’t put enough thoughts together to figure out what was happening.
So this is it, huh? He thought to himself as he slowly slipped away.
The next thing Dick knew, he was coughing up his lungs. Hands roughly turned him on his side and smacked his back as he heaved up dark water. He hacked and coughed and spit until he could finally catch his breath, and he went limp, breathing heavily as he dropped his head to the ground.
“That’s it, breathe. Just breathe,” someone said to him.
He was dimly aware of the hard ground beneath him and the other person standing over him, but right now, all he could focus on was drawing air in and out of his lungs. His body was overcome with violent shaking, and he was soaking wet in the cold evening air.
He gave a few more coughs and curled around his middle, trying to ease the pain in his lungs that shot through him with every breath.
After a few moments, when his breathing was under control, Dick blinked his eyes open.
“You with me?” the person said. They were peering down at his face from where they knelt on the ground next to him.
The voice sounded strangely familiar. He looked up to meet their eyes, and let out a startled gasp. It was him . Exactly how he looked in the mirror, down to the identical blue and black Nightwing suit his clone was sporting.
“What-, who-” Dick spluttered hoarsely.
“Hey, it’s alright. You’re alive. I called for help, your family will be here soon. It wasn’t time for your timeline to end. You’re still needed,” the other Dick said to him.
His head was spinning. This made no sense. Timelines? He was still needed? What did it all mean?
“I have to go, it's important no one else sees me. But good job tonight, you saved that kid’s life. Try to avoid risking your own, next time,” his other self said as he stood up.
Dick could barely make out the word “wait-” through his raw throat, but it was no use. He blinked, and the other Nightwing was gone.
He lay there on the ground, forcing himself to breathe in and out. His throat ached with the effort of coughing and his lungs seized again, drawing out another coughing fit. His whole body was run through with tremors from the cold water.
Someone was shaking his arm. He must’ve dozed off where he lay next to the river.
“Dick, hey. Dick! Are you with me?”
Tim. That was Tim’s voice.
He opened his eyes reluctantly. Tim was kneeling over him, and his face looked concerned.
“Hey..” Dick croaked out.
“We got your call, are you okay?”
“Didn’t … call…” he managed to say.
“Come on, let’s get you home,” Tim said, and scooped Dick up with one arm under his knees and one behind his back. Normally, Dick would protest such a treatment, but he was so worn out from the sheer effort of breathing right now, that he couldn’t do much but let out a small whimper as the movement made his head spin.
Tim eased him into the backseat of the Batmobile and the warmth of the car enveloped him. His body was still shivering violently, but Tim wrapped a blanket around his shoulders.
“This is the best I can do until we get you home. Hang in there,” he said, and settled into the driver's seat.
Dick was too out of it to respond.
The car hummed beneath him, and Dick’s mind was completely worn out. He had so many questions, and nothing in his reality made sense. He was curled up on his side in the backseat, and he began to lose his grip on consciousness as soon as the car set in motion.
Tim looked back to see Dick slumped in the back seat. His lips were blue, and his form still shook faintly. His breathing sounded ragged, and he clearly needed medical attention as soon as possible. Tim reached for his phone and quickly dialed Alfred.
“Hey, it's Tim. He’s in rough shape. I think he might’ve drowned. Someone must’ve pulled him out, but no one was around. He doesn’t remember calling for help. We’ll be there in five minutes.”
“We’ll be ready for him. Do hurry.” Alfred said, before hanging up with a click.
Tim shot Dick another glance, and stepped on the accelerator.