Nightwing #34--A Scent of Danger

“Quick, someone call 911!”

“Oh—”

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Is he breathing?”

“What about the other one?”

“Doctor?”

“Wheel him in, NOW! Someone get that door!”

“Heart rate’s dropping.”

“Hand me that!”

“He’s still losing blood fast.”

“…billionaire Richard John Grayson suffered massive injuries after—“

Dick’s eyes flew open. He sat up quickly, ignoring the painful spasms. He had to make sure of one thing.

“This isn’t my…I’m not…” He glanced around wildly. White walls… a TV in the upper corner of the room… surprised-looking white-robed figures…

Good.

He wasn’t at his funeral.

Glancing at the TV, he realized that he had heard a disinterested reporter delivering an update on his… condition? What was his condition?

His breathing slowed as he got over his initial terror. A rapid beeping filled the room, and to his left he saw a monitor declaring his accelerated heart rate. A nurse had materialized at his bedside and laid a hand on his shoulder. Glancing at her, he wondered what he had done to end up there. He remembered being terrified of something, but couldn’t remember what.

Scarecrow? He wondered numbly. He didn’t remember meeting him recently.

“Everything is okay, Mr. Grayson. Please calm down.” The nurse waited until he relaxed a bit. “There you go, now lie down here. I need to fix this,” she explained, holding up a needle connected to a plastic bag on a wire hanger. He stared at the bag in horror, then leaned over the bed rail and retched. He dimly heard the nurse saying something, but didn’t understand. He realized that someone was lifting him and moving him to another bed, but his mind was focused on the bag. He felt a prick as the nurse stuck the needle into his skin. He forced himself to calm down, employing a simple breathing exercise he had learned years ago. As the nurses and doctor around him prattled on, he remembered.

“Tim! Where is he?” Two nurses immediately tried to get him to relax, but he was through with being told to calm down.

“My ward, Timothy Drake. Where is he?”

One of the nurses, a petite brunette, glanced at the doctor.

“He’s okay, Mr. Grayson. He suffered a few injuries—nothing life-threatening.” Holding up a hand, the doctor interrupted Dick’s demands. “Soon, soon. Right now, I’d like to have a look at you.” He glanced at Dick’s face. “Do you remember what happened?”

Dick couldn’t quite repress a shudder, but he answered calmly, “yes. A shark attack.”

“Good,” the doctor said, taking out a flashlight. “Do you know what day it is?” He peered into his patient’s eyes.

After a few more questions, the doctor a few notes on his clipboard with a satisfied expression. He gestured toward Dick’s bandaged torso. “If you would just lie still…” Dick nodded and laid his head back, gritting his teeth as the doctor checked him over.

“How bad is it?” Dick asked, trying to swallow the sour taste in his mouth.

“A few lacerations, and some broken ribs. There are several rather deep incisions, as well. A total of thirty-four stitches—not bad, overall.” The doctor said, still peering at the wounds. “To be quite honest, it looked much worse than it was—you lost a lot of blood.”

Dick nodded impatiently. He was feeling tired and lethargic. He wondered how many painkillers he had in him. “If we’re all done I’d really like to see Tim,” he said.

The doctor smiled. “Of course. I’ll have a nurse change your bandages and then he’ll come down here. Sound good?” The doctor left after speaking with a blonde nurse Dick had seen earlier. Several minutes later, Tim half-ran into the room.

“Dick,” he said, eyes wide at the bandages and IV’s. “Are—are you okay?” Tim’s face flushed. What a stupid question, he thought.

Dick nodded. “I’ll live. You?” He asked, looking at Tim’s arm.

“Sprained my shoulder pretty badly,” the teen admitted. “And the shark left some holes where he bit me.” Wrinkling his nose, he said, “By the way, I’m really not interested in a shark tooth anymore. Maybe we can get an informative magnet or something, instead.”

Dick started to laugh, but then gasped at the sudden pain. He wondered about Tim. “How long ’til you’re healed?”

Tim shrugged. “I hear I’m gonna be sore for awhile, which I believe,” he winced. “Man, you scared me. You were out three days!”

“Three…!” Dick frowned.

After a pause, Tim asked, “You hungry?”

Dick grimaced. “Actually, I’m kind of queasy.”

Tim nodded and sat down. Dick raised an eyebrow.

“If you’re hungry, go get something. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tim hesitated, unwilling to leave Dick. He looked at the nurse, who smiled.

“He’ll be just fine if you want to grab something from the vending machine. Right out those doors.” Tim thanked her and ran out, returning a few minutes later.

Dick’s stomach churned at the smell of the peanut butter crackers Tim had bought. At any other time, Dick would have been eating some himself, but the strong smell of peanuts didn’t help his stomach at all.

“Wonder how long it’ll be before we’re outta here,” Dick mused.

Tim smirked. “I think you’ll be here bit,” he responded. “It’s okay,” he lowered his voice theatrically. “I think the blonde likes me. I’ll be fine if we have to stay here awhile…”

Now it was Dick’s turn to smirk. “In your dreams,” he retorted. “’Sides, I think we’ll be out of here before long.”

In the kitchen, Barbara diced an onion while Alfred opened lids on pots to check on their contents.

“How bad was he, really?” Alfred asked quietly. “He wouldn’t give many details over the telephone. When pressed to elaborate, he persisted in changing the subject.”

Alfred couldn’t quite read the expression on Barbara’s face. “The shark actually got Tim first,” she began slowly. “Don’t tell Tim, Alfred—Dick asked me not to. When Dick saw that the shark had Tim, he was way too far away from shore to swim for help, and he couldn’t see anything because the shark had dragged Tim under the water. Dick’s arm—he actually tore up his arm hoping the blood would attract the shark.” She paused. “It worked, apparently.”

Alfred frowned. “He told you this, himself?”

Barb shrugged. “I heard it first from someone who had talked to the guys who picked them up. I figured it was something just crazy enough to be true, so when we were at the hospital, and Tim went to get a burger, I asked Dick about it.”

“How dreadful.” The butler frowned again. He was quiet for a few moments; the only sounds in the room were the stirring of his spoon and quick chopping of Barbara’s knife as it sliced through the onion. “How dreadful,” he said again, coming out of his reverie. “Though it was very like Master Dick to do so.”

When she opened the door, he was sprawled on the bed. “Hey,” she said. He didn’t respond. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough.” Tim mumbled.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Then, Barbara forced a laugh. “Well, this is going as well as a bad soap opera. I really don’t know what to say.”

Tim rolled onto his side. Barbara suspected he was about to cry. “I didn’t know he tried to lure the shark back to him.”

“Of course you didn’t. He didn’t want to you to know.” She sighed. “I’ll get an earful for upsetting you.”

“He should have told me. I ruined his case, not to mention got him half-eaten by a shark.”

“He wasn’t ‘half-eaten’,” Barbara snapped. “Besides, the doctors say he’ll be fine soon enough. The longest-lasting effect will probably be a strong aversion to Jaws.”

Tim shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about it.

Barbara bit her lip. Finally, she asked, “Ready to come eat?”

Tim stood up, trudged silently down the stairs, and slumped at the table. Remembering Dick’s cracked ribs Alfred had positioned a recliner at the head of the table, where Dick was now waiting. The older teen glanced at Tim.

“Beats cheeseburgers, eh? Told you it’d be worth it to wait.” He swallowed a forkful of scalloped potatoes, glad to be finished with hospital food.

Tim played with his green beans, forming an ‘R’ out of them. Dick frowned, then pushed his plate away. “Well, if you’re not going to eat, then I’m not going to eat,” he said childishly. Barb rolled her eyes. Tim stood up angrily, ignoring the remark altogether.

“Why would you do that?” He yelled.

Dick looked serious. “There was no other option,” he said. “At least, none that I could think of at the time.”

“Swimming to shore didn’t occur to you?”

“What kind of person do you think I am?” Dick wanted to know. “I wasn’t just going to let you die.”

“But what if you had died? You would’ve been dead, and Batman would be gone, and—”

Tim stopped as Dick held up a hand. “What’s Batman without a Robin?”

Robin adjusted his mask determinedly. Dick was dozing, partly due to the long trip home, and partly due to the pain medication, which Alfred had forced on him. The butler was currently dusting the living room. Robin decided to seize the opportunity to escape. He glanced around for his gloves before he remembered that he had left them in his room. Quietly, he crept into the kitchen.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” A voice behind him demanded.

Robin whirled around. “Um…”

“You’re going to try to solve that embezzling case on your own, are you not?” Alfred asked disapprovingly.

Robin glanced down at the floor, then back up at the butler. “Yes,” he said hotly.

Alfred shook his head. “I expected as much.”

“Someone has to,” Robin insisted. “Barb got that emergency call from the New Outsiders and took off like a shot. She’s gotta be three states away by now.”

“And just what would Master Dick say if he knew what you were planning?” Alfred asked.

Robin frowned. He could very well imagine just what Dick would have to say if he knew. He was just happy that Barb had left after Dick had gone to sleep. Staring at Alfred, he thought his options over quickly. “Don’t try to stop me, Alfred, or I’ll jump,” he threatened.

The butler’s expression turned to one of confusion. “You’ll what, Master Tim?”

“I said,” Robin repeated slowly, looking meaningfully behind Alfred, “that I’ll jump.”

Alfred glanced behind him and then turned back to glare at Tim.

“You cannot possibly be holding my cake hostage, Master Tim.”

Tim smirked.

Alfred’s mouth went flat.

“Try to stop me and I’ll jump so hard the whole thing will fall,” Robin threatened again. “It’d be a shame,” he noted sorrowfully, sniffing the air. “It smells pretty good.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow, then threw his hands in the air. “Fine. Go. You are aware, I suppose, that I will have to awaken Master Dick, who will not be at all happy?”

Tim smirked again. “Go ahead and try. Did you read the label on those meds you made him take? He’ll be out for hours.”

Finally, Alfred looked concerned. “Master Tim, I’m sure the police—”

Tim shook his head as he ran back to the Batcave. “Forget it, Alfred!” He yelled. “I have to do this.” He looked around for a spare pair of gloves quickly as the butler ran down the stairs. Desperate, he opened the display case that housed old costumes, took Dick’s old gloves and ran for his bike. Then he raced away.

He swallowed as he hit the accelerator. Alfred was concerned about the crook? Tim was far more worried about someone else.

He was so dead when Dick woke up.

Alfred contacted him over the radio several minutes later. “How are you holding up, sir?”

“I’m fine,” Batman responded. He was trying to focus on finding Tim, and resisting the urge to sleep. The Batmobile’s quiet purr wasn’t helping on that score. “Able to reach Tim yet?”

“I’ve tried to raise him on the radio. Regrettably, he has either switched it off, or he is simply refusing to pick up.”

Oh, yeah, Batman decided. Big trouble. “All right,” he said with a deep sigh. “You told me where he went, anyway. I’m nearly there.”

“Good luck, B.”

“Thanks.” But I’m not the one who’s gonna need it, he vowed to himself. Just wait ’til he found Tim.

Batman grumbled as he stepped out of the Batmobile. He’d parked it directly behind Robin’s bike. Maybe Bruce had had the right idea years ago, when he had stolen Robin’s wheels to keep him from going on a certain case…

He noticed an open window three stories up and fired a grapnel to the ledge below. As he entered, he could hear a man speaking. He stopped as he realized that he was listening to Elkson’s confession. He waited until the man had finished before he stepped out of the shadows.

“You mind repeating that to the police?”

Batman had the satisfaction of seeing both Elkson and Robin jump at his voice. Robin whirled wide-eyed to face him.

“D—Batman? What’re you doing here?”

“Solving a case, of course. The case of the missing bird.”

“What?” Elkson exclaimed. “I don’t know anything about any birds…”

“Shut up,” Batman snapped.

Elkson obeyed.

“For someone who doesn’t know anything about birds, you were sure singing a lovely tune, a moment ago,” Robin told him.

“At least come up with something original, kid,” Elkson muttered.

“Yes, please,” Batman agreed.