Chapter Text
Bludhaven is unpredictable to even the most alert individual; someone Nightwing was far from at the moment. Exhaustion made his bones ache and his eyes burn as he tracked the drug ring to a warehouse near the pier. Mist from the sea mixed with the stench of sewage and rot that seemed persistent to linger in the darkest cracks of Blud, tainting what could have been a perfect night. He ran lightly over degrading metal slabs before settling on the roof of a shipping container, flattening himself until he was invisible to passersby down below.
Fuck, he thought. The late nights he had been pulling for the last few weeks had finally caught up to him. Three Advil tablets from earlier, unfortunately, did nothing for his headache and his fingers grew stiff with cold as he waited for the criminals to show themselves.
Hinges screeched as the warehouse door opened, rusty from the salt air, and revealed four men, all carrying large wooden boxes. The men were all armed but looked inexperienced in handling weapons.
This shouldn’t be too bad. Nightwing hopped off the roof, not bothering to mask the sound, as he approached the men. They jolted suddenly at his approaching footsteps.
“Who's there?” A man with a small scar on his chin brandished his gun wildly to the shadows around him.
Not bothering with the small talk he was known for, he threw a swift upper cut to the man and knocked him unconscious, his gun flinging over the edge of the dock. Spinning into a roundhouse kick, two more men hit the ground hard and crumpled into each other. The last man stumbled back, his hands fumbling to disengage the gun's safety feature.
Nightwing went to disarm him, but a searing pain in his abdomen blacked out his vision temporarily. He saw the man start to run away, and using the last bit of energy left in him, he tackled the man to the ground. The motion felt like a spear was being driven into his stomach, but he swallowed the pain.
A sharp punch to the face knocked the last man out cold, and Nightwing stumbled back, colliding with the wall of a shipping container. Looking down at his suit, he could see a smear of crimson dripping sluggishly out of the bullet wound in his side. It momentarily registered to him that he needed to pack the wound to stop the blood flow, but he could barely get his fingers to cooperate enough to get his phone out of a pocket in his suit. With one hand pressed weakly to his side, the other opened his emergency contacts, his fingers leaving red smudges on the screen.
B
The glowing contact on the phone lit up the dark dock, and when he pressed it, the soft buzz of the phone was muted by the waves crashing into the shore. It rang, and rang, and rang until the monotone automated voicemail crackled through the phone. He hung up quickly, his breath coming in shallow and wet. He was going to die, and it was all because Bruce didn’t care enough about him to answer his stupid phone.
He debated who else he could call. All the Titans were off-world for various reasons and everyone else was too far away to reach him in time. He leaned his head back against the metal wall and listened to the waves of Blüd's ocean crash over and over, drowning out the sound of his heart beat that was slowly growing weaker. The phone slipped out of his hand as his eyelids fluttered closed, exhausted from the rapid blood loss.
“I don’t know why anyone would choose to live in this hell hole,” Slade muttered to himself as he trekked across the crumbling rooftops of Bludhaven. Wind battered him relentlessly from every direction and the oppressive marine layer cast the sky in a dark cloudless black. He was just finishing up a job—strictly reconnaissance because as much as he seemed indifferent to the wishes of Nightwing, he respected him too much to go against the deal they made about him not killing in Blud—when a sharp scream cut through the night. It couldn’t be said that Slade was a curious man, but at this time of night, that sound could only mean something truly bad was happening. That and the chance to catch up with Nightwing was greatly increased, so he headed toward the noise. Nightwing always had a habit of putting himself in places he shouldn’t be.
Upon arriving at the dock, a saw a mound of black and blue sprawled near a cargo container. Nightwing’s face was contorted in pain, a slowly expanding ring of blood pooling around him, near black in the low light.
“Nightwing, can you hear me? Nightwing?” The man made no outward sign of recognition, although his harsh breathing calmed to an occasional whimper at the sound of his voice. The sound was so unnatural coming from the younger man that it made Slade's skin crawl.
“Nightwing, can you hear me?” Slade repeated again. Dick hummed a weak response, his hands moving up to feel for Slade, before tightening around his shoulder.
“Slade...” The hand on his shoulder loosened as his voice trailed off into oblivion. He scooped Nightwing up immediately, heading towards Bludhaven General, the best hospital in the city- although that doesn’t mean much coming from a city that is literally tearing itself apart.
It was a few blocks away, but Slade covered them rapidly. As he entered the ambulance bay, a few nurses backed away in fear, but seeing the figure of Nightwing, they snapped them back into action. Slade handed Nightwing over, quickly stating how he found him, the only medical history he knew, and his phone number before leaving. The many warrants out for his arrest had the cops in the hospital on high alert, but seeing as he was delivering Bludhaven's savior, Slade guessed that they gave him a free pass or they were just corrupt, as no one followed him.
This kid is ruining my reputation.
Beep. Beep. Beep. The nagging beeping of the heart monitor knocked Dick out of his sleep. His abdomen felt constricted, and looking down, he found it tightly wrapped in gauze. His hand shot up to his face, and finding his mask still in tack, he was able to relax slightly. He could always count on Blüd to protect him.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” The soft voice of a nurse drew his attention towards the door. A man in sea foam green scrubs walked toward his bed and adjusted a few knobs on the machines near him.
“I’ve been better.” His voice came out thick and raspy from disuse.
“How long have I been out?” He continued.
“Two days. You lost a lot of blood. You're lucky you were brought in so quickly, a few minutes later and we wouldn’t have been able to save you.” What a pleasant thought. The nurse checked his vitals and gave him a few bottles of antibiotics and anti-inflammatory medication that he was supposed to take over the next few weeks.
“Well it looks like you are all set to be discharged. Do you have a ride home?” The nurse looked expectantly at him.
“…No.” Dick couldn’t help feeling mildly embarrassed about not having a ride home.
“That’s okay we can get you an Uber.” The nurse said cheerfully, but he looked a little shocked that someone like Nightwing wouldn’t be able to get someone to pick him up.
Dick had the Uber drop him off three blocks away from his apartment and walked the rest of the way, shielding his face with a hoodie from the hospitals lost and found. Fortunately for him, the wind whipping through the streets cleared out most of the foot traffic that would have been there at this time of day.
He fumbled with the key as he tried to unlock his apartment, his shaky hands missing twice before he succeeded. The door swung open with a low creak, revealing a pristine apartment.
Wow. I did not leave it this way. He padded lightly around the room, finding Haley curled up on the rug with a comically large bone. She jumped out of her bed, and bounded across the tile floor, her paws slipping and sliding as she jumped on him. Even for a puppy, her weight was enough to knock him back a step. A sharp laugh tilted the corners of his mouth upward as he sidestepped her to go to the kitchen. Pangs of hunger gnawed on his stomach. He hadn’t eaten in days. Upon opening the fridge door, he found it filled with pre-made meals and fresh produce. A note on the counter read
“take care of yourself-SW.”
Softy, Dick smiled to himself.