Chapter Text
Dick’s POV:
I was on autopilot as soon as I received the call, heading to the place where I last traced her phone signal from. Why did she come back to Gotham? I don’t know. All I know, is that I have to see her, I have to know that she’s safe.
‘Please, help me.’ she begged through the phone, her voice filled with the fear I’ve never heard she uttered before. For as long as I knew her, she had never been like this. She was always so full of life.
Rain started to pour down in Blüdhaven and though the steps can be slippery, I didn’t care, not breaking my pace. I have to get there before it’s too late. And why the hell did she decided to be in Iceberg Lounge, out of all places? Hell, why did she decided to be alone in Gotham, at night? I know she could handle herself, but she didn’t have to come here.
Guilt hits my chest as the thought crossed my mind. I was her friend, I should be glad that she’s here, but that’s the truth, I’m not. I made another giant leap across the roof of the building and climbed down the building, surveying the area once I feet landed on the ground, with my night vision still activated.
The alley of the Iceberg Lounge is as disgusting as the owner itself. Two dumpsters stood facing each other, with one top open and the other shut. A foot was dangling off of the edge of the one with the open top. A whimper broke against the silence of the alleyway. No, no way. I ran towards the sound, lifting the familiar body from the filth and gently laying it down on a cleaner ground, a few feet away from the dumpster.
I cradle her head in my arms, she had never looked this fragile. Her dress is ruined and tattered, or what was left of it anyway. Her beautiful red hair was cut short. Bruises were all over her skin, but the most prominent one was on her face, a broken jaw, broken nose and a swollen eye. Blood flows down her temple as she shivered, her hands shaking as she let out a sob.
“Y-you’re h-here.” she whispered, bringing one bloodied hand up to my face.
“I’m here. Cheyenne, who did this to you?” I asked, my gaze drifting to where her hand had been. Blood flowed from between her legs, the red staining her white dress. I turn back to her, cupping one hand on her cheek, my thumb wiping away her tears.
“Y-you ha-have to p-promise me not to s-seek vengeance.”
“Cheyenne-“
“N-no, Nightwing, n-no. H-help me e-end this instead.”
I hesitated, unsure of what to do. Judging by her injuries, I could call for reinforcements, get Bruce to help, maybe Alfred could stitch her up, we could bring her to the hospital. I was about to do just that and she must’ve known, because she begged me to end it instead.
“P-pl-please, Nightwing, please.” she begged, her sobs racking her body.
I scrunched my face, trying to block the pain in my chest, the tears that are threatening to flow. I nodded, placing a soft kiss on her forehead as she whispered, “T-thank you.” and place my hand on her throat. My hands trembled as I laid her head on my thighs and wrap my hands around her frail neck. Her eyes were on the sky, reflecting stars from her dark brown eyes that is slowly losing life as I tighten my grip on her neck.