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When Dick opened his eyes he could just see red and green smudged across black. It was when he blinked and the bells started ringing that the pain started.
And oh the pain was bad. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to get up, but he couldn't, he was being crushed and he couldn't move his legs and there was something in his shoulder. He still couldn't make sense of the coloured lights but he managed to turn his head and he saw the wreckage, and oh god, the blood.
There was a twisted pole, or piece of scaffolding, or something, sticking out of his shoulder. It seemed to be part of the building that was collapsed on top of him and he could feel where it was pressed inside, the way his flesh pushed against it every time he breathed. If he tried to get it out he'd either probably bleed out or the remains of the building would collapse on top of him.
He tried to raise his head but couldn't get far and could only see a charred mess of debris, but it felt like one leg was definitely broken under all the mess. He shifted the other and the whole structure creaked.
He was trapped, really trapped and why the hell were all the bells ringing?
It was easier to just let his head drop to the side. There was a hole in the wall of the building and he could see over the city, the strange colours were Christmas decorations, hung up in Gotham's usual smog and sodium light, and the bells, the bells were because it was midnight and it was Christmas Day.
For a moment he hurt too much to do anything, there was snow whirling past and somewhere it sounded like someone was crying. It was very cold too, apart from where hot sticky blood was leaking from his shoulder.
He was going to die. Of bitter cold, or blood loss or a bleeding brain, or the bad guys coming back to see what their bomb had left, if he couldn't get out of here. And it was Christmas, his and Bruce's first Christmas married and official and he didn't want to die here.
He scrabbled at his belt with his free hand and that hurt, breathing in hurt too, but eventually he managed to find his radio and lifted it up. He must have fallen on it. It was cracked and the light inside was stuttering on and off like Christmas lights. He blinked and shook it.
“Oracle...Oracle come in.”
It didn't make a noise.
“Babs, come on, come in.”
The light just hurt his eyes as it flickered. He shut them again firmly, breathed in deep to steady himself, and oh fucking hell that hurt wherever the pole was stuck inside him.
“Come on...someone...come in...”
He couldn't even hold his arm up and as it dropped down the radio slipped out of his fingers and bounced away from him, almost to the hole in the wall. He flailed to reach it, but it was too far, his fingers just brushed the edge of it.
For a moment he lay there, eyes shut, hurting. He'd never, f he was really honest, expected to make old age, but that was different to death being here, now, coming on him and making the flickering Christmas lights go dark.
He could see his fingers and see the communicator, snow falling on it. Close, but not close enough.
He looked back up at Gotham, almost pretty iced in snow. Far off, beyond much more garish colours, he could just make out the bat signal that had called them all out tonight.
He was so tired...
The wreckage creaked above him and he opened his eyes. Time had passed, the black radio had almost turned white. There were sirens screaming. His eyes focused on the shape of the bat and he couldn't die here cold and frozen on Christmas Day. If their relationship, their goddam marriage, was in any slight way, a chance for Bruce to find peace, he was not dying here without fighting it.
If he moved too far that piece of metal could stab his lungs or heart, the wreckage could tumble, but no one seemed to be coming and he didn't know how much longer he could hold out.
He stretched out for the radio and his shoulder burnt, his muscles screamed and the metal slid deeper, but he managed to flick it towards him and felt it hit his hip.
He was panting and his fingers were shaking as he grasped it and pressed the buttons again.
Still nothing.
He clenched it in his fist and heard the slightest, crackling hiss.
“This...this is...”
“Nightwing?”
“Oracle, oh thank god, Oracle I'm...”
“I've got your position. Are you okay?”
He brought his hand up to his ear, “Kind of stuck.”
“Nightwing, that's where the lab exploded.”
“Yeah, felt that.”
“Red Robin and Batman are on route to you now. Do you need medical assistance?”
He laughed and then gasped with pain and she snapped, “Dick, Dick are you hurt?”
“Sort of pinned. Babs, don't go okay, keep talking...”
“I'm here, not going anywhere.”
He pressed his hand against his face, tried to imagine she was there, her hair blocking out the snow.
“Barbara...”
“Okay, so what are you getting me for Christmas?”
She sounded so calm and Christmas, yes it was Christmas, he couldn't die on Bruce at Christmas.
“No, no you can't. That would break the man for good. How about him, what are you getting Bruce for Christmas?”
“He's hard to buy for...”
“Yes, yes he is.”
There was flapping and the zing of a zip wire and then Tim was landing lightly onto the ledge and looking down at him, his jaw clenched and tight.
“Jesus, Dick!”
“Guess it looks bad.”
“Hell yeah it looks bad. Um, sorry.”
Tim knelt down next to him, one hand stretched out as though he wasn't sure what to do and he was talking rapidly on his radio.
“Yeah, he's kind of skewered. We're going to need specialist tools to get him out, and guys you need to hurry, he's in a bad way.”
His costume was very red, like Christmas and Dick probably shouldn't have told him that from the look Tim gave him.
“Sure Dick. Bruce is nearly here by the way, you're staying with me until he gets here okay?”
He nodded, it hurt, but he nodded again and Tim very cautiously rested his hand on Dick's free arm.
“Good because I do not want to have that conversation with Bruce.”
He managed to frown up at Tim, “Thanks.”
“I guess I don't want you to die either.”
Laughing hurt again, and then all the snow and lights and Gotham were blacked out by Batman's cloak and Batman was there, kneeling beside Tim and he sounded human and horrified as he managed, “Dick...”
“Sorry, it's Christmas...”
Tim gave him another strange look but Batman was barking commands. He couldn't follow them and tried to apologise, but Bruce wrapped their fingers tightly together and if he pretended he could feel his wedding ring through the kevlar.
Tim stood up and bent over him, “No dying before I get back okay? Or when I do either.”
And then he was gone, cloak catching in the wind, and Dick just looked up at Bruce.
“Bad first Christmas.”
His teeth were chattering and Bruce knelt closer, flicking his cloak over Dick's body and saying, “Christmas isn't the important thing here.”
“Still better than last Christmas.”
He could almost see Bruce's eyebrows going up under the mask.
“How?”
“We were still doing the polite civilised thing. This is better.”
Bruce lifted his head slightly and Dick guessed he was looking at the mess trapping him.
“No it isn't.”
Dick tried his best to squeeze Bruce's fingers, “Is, we're married now.”
“You think I'd...”
“Don't!”
It actually made Bruce stop and Dick raised his free hand and cupped his jaw.
“Don't. I'm happier now than I've been for years. You know that...it's worth it. It's all worth it.”
The white lenses were like snow and snow was catching on the ears of Batman's mask
“Don't say it's not. I'm not dying on you.”
Bruce's hand stroked across his cheek.
“Don't say it's not.”
He could feel the snow and white catching at him, pulling him under and Bruce slid his hand beneath his head, “Dick, I'm ordering you, don't black out.”
And then there was noise, wires and material and Damian and Tim squeezing onto the ledges with bags. There was activity, chaos and the Christmas lights shining between their bodies, catching their cloaks in shadow.
Bruce squeezed his shoulder and said, “I need to lift this up. Focus on Damian, I'll be back.”
He tried to follow him but Damian punched his arm. “Look at me, not what they're doing.”
“But...”
“Well look if you want, but you'll seriously probably just be sick on yourself and have to lie in your own vomit, which will be disgusting.”
Metal screeched, pulled and he screamed and grabbed Damian's thin arm. And it hadn't hurt before, hadn't been real pain before if this was pain now. Damian's fingers curled round his bicep and he hissed, “Stop it, come on Grayson, you can do better than this.”
The pain didn't go, just faded down, washed to a bruise and Bruce knelt over them both.
“Dick we're going to have to cut the pole free, but I don't want to take it out of you until we're at the hospital.”
The pole was a lesser thing to his legs right now and Bruce squeezed his hand and nodded at Tim.
The metal sparked and then the pressure was hell, was a nightmare and a lot of voices were talking at once and they were all drowned out by the siren and Bruce turning his face towards him.
“We need to get you down to the ambulance. You understand, this has to look like you were just walking past.”
“Nightwing?” Tim wanted an answer too, and Damian was leaning closer, snapping “Grayson,” and he could hear Oracle's voice again, but he couldn't stay conscious anymore and the last thing he saw was Bruce's mask, eyes, mouth, lit from behind by the blue from the ambulance and red from some cheap sputtering lights.
The next time he opened his eyes it was to white. Snow, but not snow, walls.
Barbara was asleep in her chair, head in her hand. He turned his head and saw Tim asleep on a sofa, his arms over his face and breathing deeply.
“Dick?”
There were fingers curled around his, and he followed them up to see Bruce looking at him, dark shadows under his eyes. He blinked trying to work out the walls, and the colours and Bruce squeezed his hand and he saw their wedding rings, still so shiny, locked together and a few more bits of his mind came together.
“Is it still Christmas?”
Bruce huffed one of his almost laughs then and bent over and kissed his forehead.
“For a few more hours.”
Which meant it was well into the night, “I messed up Alfred's dinner again, didn't I?”
“It's okay, Master Dick.”
He turned and Alfred was there, but that made hurt start, undefined hurt, but bone deep pain and his fingers were fumbled around a button and Bruce was saying, “Press this when it hurts too much.”
Alfred pulled up another chair and said, smiling, “It is alright. I'm probably better at making turkey sandwiches these days than roast dinners.”
He had important things to say. “I got you a present too, Alfred.”
“Of course you did.”
Bruce tightened his grip on Dick's fingers.
“Press the button.”
“Thought you didn't like painkillers.”
“I know how much of you is held together with stitches right now. Press the button.”
He did and tried to knock their rings together.
“I got you an amazing present. You're tricky to buy for you know, so I thought what do you definitely like doing a lot, with me, and went from there.”
The door slammed, and he heard Damian's voice cracking and disgusted saying, “Oh god gross!”
It woke everyone else up and the noise level went up too. He shut his eyes as Bruce brushed the back of his hand across his cheek.
“Merry Christmas, Dick.”
He couldn't reply, but turned his face and pressed his fingers against Bruce's knuckles. It might be a shit first Christmas, but it was theirs and there was always next year.
The End.
Epilogue. Alfred ended up making turkey sandwiches next year too.