Work Text:
"Well, shit," Gordon sighs. "They were right."
The alleyway's been cleared. Nobody's around for an entire block. He was notified the second the body was found, and well, he can't lie. It's a body.
It's Batman's.
He knows better than to get too close. He doesn't feel like getting zapped tonight. It's bad enough he has to stare at his old friend on the ground, unresponsive. Unmoving.
A motorcycle revs down the street. Too close. It should have been diverted by his barricades, unless…
It screeched to a halt behind his cruiser. Based on the weight of the footsteps, the rustle of the utility belt, and the fact that the vigilante used a motorcycle to get here suggets it's Red Hood. Gordon doesn't feel like he can move even to check.
"What the hell?" A modulated voice whispers. "Gordon? What's going on?"
"He seems to be dead."
"Fuck that," Red Hood knelt beside Bats.
The Dark Knight is on his stomach, cape covering most of his body, but he hasn't moved in ten minutes. He's never been hurt this bad.
"B," Red Hood gives him a shake. "It's me."
Nothing.
"Baman. Status report."
Gordon's not sure how much longer he can stare at this.
"Oracle, how are his vitals?"
Gordon grabs a cigarette from the box in his coat.
Red Hood sighs but through the helmet it's hard to tell if it's relief or not. "Send the Batmobile to my location. I'll ride alongside it and make sure he gets back to the cave."
"He's alive?" Gordon stops before he can light the cigarette.
Red Hood nods and lifts Batman onto his back, carrying him out of the alleyway. The Batmobile wasn't far, since it arrived nearby within seconds. Whoever had attacked Bats had done it early tonight.
"You'll know when he's back in action. Leave everything to us."
"When don't I?" Gordon's not sure whose mood he's trying to improve.
As much as he wishes he could, Dick can't stop himself from rushing to Gotham when his family needs him. When Jason called, he was surprised, because when the hell does Jason ever want anything from him?
Bruce has been immobile the whole three days Dick's been here. He's hooked up to IVs and has tubes keeping him fed and hydrated, and the blood tests are taking too long. They need to find out what's wrong with him.
Best guess is a drug. Mask footage cut out about ten minutes into his patrol, which was an hour before anyone found him. They had nothing to go on. There's not even an active file in the Batcomputer. This is someone new.
These machines won't keep Bruce alive forever. They might only have a few days max before they have to move him to a real hospital, and there's not a cover story Dick can think of to explain how Bruce Wayne ended up paralyzed without a single scratch on him. And then there's the matter of the scars. Paparazzi will have a field day and then it's only a matter of minutes before the secret is out.
"Please tell me you left a hint somewhere in here we just haven't found yet," Dick sighs as he drops into the chair at the bedside. Alfred's cooking for everyone, Jason's been locked in his room so he can get some sleep, Tim's at the Batcomputer—sleeping too, but Dick knows he'll be mad at himself once he wakes up—Cass is hunting for clues in the area Bruce was found, Damian and Duke are with her. "We're good, but a detective can't do shit without evidence."
Bruce doesn't move. Not even his eyes were spared. In most paralysis cases, at least the victim can give yes or no answers with their eyes, but Bruce can't even do that.
"I don't know if you're awake or not. I just…" Dick sighed. "I hope this drug runs its course soon. Also you're benched once this is over. No more patrol or staying up late. Got it?"
Nothing.
"Do the macarena if you disagree with that verdict."
Well, seems he agrees.
It's part revenge for all the stupid times he's benched the others over the years, but Dick's worried. Hearing Jason's voice on the edge of glass saying that Bruce might be dying terrified him. The last time Bruce couldn't be Batman, it was hell. Dick can't take that mantle again. They'll have to let it die with their father this time.
He goes to shake Tim awake, and puts a headset on to connect with Babs. "We get anything on the blood samples yet?"
"No," she yawns. None of them have slept. Except Tim. He's just gone longer than the rest of them. Dick shakes him again as Babs keeps going. "We need to start planning a cover story."
"I know."
Tim sits up slowly and rubs at his eyes. "Anything?"
"Not yet."
He sighed and runs a hand through his hair. "He's going to die, isn't he?"
"Not if we have any say in the matter."
Batman has not slept. He can't. Even paralyzed, his mind is being stimulated. Artificially. This drug contains a strong level of adrenaline that hasn't worn off yet. He's running over everything in his head again and again, not like there's anything else for him to do aside from listen to his kids fuss over him.
He's made no progress, by the way.
He will not be staying in once this is over. If he has to, he'll do the macarena the second he's back on his feet.
It's been a week, from what he can gather. They're all standing around the computer trying to come up with a cover story for when they move him to the hospital. They're all so bad they're funny.
Alfred sighs, places his hand on Bruce's forehead, and steps out, shutting the door behind him.
Batman's hand twitches, and for the first time in days, he can feel it. The numbness is fading ever so slowly.
He taps it on the table, then a few more times to make sure it's not a fluke.
D-I-C-K, he taps in Morse code.
It's not loud enough to stop anyone from talking. Jason and Tim are arguing, but with the doors closed, Batman can't make out a single word.
A-L-F-R-E-D.
"Go take a walk!" Dick is shouting. The group must have started an argument. "Jason, Damian, go spar. Tim, go. to. sleep!"
The door opens and Dick slams it shut before dropping into the chair nearby.
"I bet you heard some of that."
Y-E-S.
"Holy shit," Dick mutters. "You're finally awake! It's wearing off?!"
Y-E-S.
"Got any info we can use to stop the person who did this?"
He wishes he could say yes.
"Bruce?"
N-O.
"Great," he sighed.
M-A-C-A—
"What? Slow down, I wasn't looking."
M-A-C-A-R-E-N-A.
"You're not allowed to veto this. You're resting and recovering. Not leaving the house at all."
H-Y-P-O-C-R-I-T-E.
"Says you. I'll have Alfie chain you to your bed if I have to."
B-E. F-I-N-E. F-E-W. H-O-U-R-S.
"How sure are you about that?"
G-O. G-E-T. T-I-M.
Dick rolled his eyes. "He's sleeping. I think you've gotten more sleep than him this past week."
N-O. A-D-R-E-N-A-L-I-N-E.
"Well, regardless, I'm not waking him up just so you can ask him to side with you. He won't. Literally nobody will. You're resting."
F-I-N-E.
"Good," Dick pat his shoulder once. Bruce can just barely feel it. "I'll tell Alfred, we'll leave someone with you until you're better."