Hello readers! I've tweaked the story since its initial publication. Timing: shortly after Robin becomes Nightwing.

Disclaimer: Not my characters or universe

"Tie him up and put him in the cells," snapped the large man, nervous and impatient as he and his men strode across the gravel yard and into the dark interior of the compound. Keeping the Bat's protege alive had been a dangerous decision, and he wanted the kid out of sight before his nervousness made him change his mind.

Two of his men, broad shouldered thugs sporting identical scowls, dragged Nightwing's limp form through the guarded doorway and down the hall, feet shuffling awkwardly in an effort to counterbalance the kid's weight - he wasn't light - and stepping quickly to escape their boss's wrath. "Tie him up?" grumbled the taller of them, irritably. "With what? It's not like we got rope or cuffs just lying around. And why should we tie him up if he's just gonna be locked in a cell, anyway?"

"Don't you know who this is?" his companion snapped back. "This is Batman's kid. He's probably a better escape artist than Houdini. I think we've got some chains back in the storage room - we'll have to make do with those."

Dick hung limply between them, knees dragging on the rough cement, head drooping deeply. He could hear and feel everything, but whatever drug they'd injected him with was an effective paralytic agent that left him limp as a rag doll, heart thumping loudly in his ears. He could do nothing as they stopped by a small door and retrieved the chains, then continued until they came to another door, this one bigger and heavier. The interior was dark and windowless.

They dropped him unceremoniously onto the cement and proceded to wrap his wrists tightly in chains behind his back. They used another length of chain to then secure his arms to his sides. It was a sloppy job, relative to previous experiences he had, but when the drug wore off, he would be unable to slip his feet through his arms and get his hands in front of him, which was just one more thing making his life more challenging. The thought made his stomach sink, but he pushed the feeling aside in an effort to keep a clear head.

If the men were aware that he was still conscious, they didn't let on. They finished their work in brusque silence and left, closing the door and leaving him in utter darkness.

Nightwing, are you okay? M'gann's voice came through the psychic link loud and clear.

I'm fine, Dick replied, relieved to hear that his friends were back in range. I'm drugged and detained in a holding cell on the east side of the central compound. Rider and his crew are headquartered in the northern el of the building. From what I could tell, the barracks are either beyond my cell on the east side, or elsewhere on the compound, because there wasn't a lot of foot traffic.

Wally's voice rang through the link, the smirk on his face evident in his mental tone. Does this mean you're stuck, and need rescuing? I love playing 'save the damsel in distress.'

Nightwing would have grit his teeth if he had had control over that function of his body. Instead, he calmly replied, We discussed this possibility in the briefing, Kid Flash. We have a plan to deal with it. Now please focus on the task at hand.

Wally didn't respond, which Dick took as a positive thing. Unable to do anything else, he listened through the link as his team checked in, reporting that they were ready to go at their assigned positions. With his job - getting captured and leading his team to the drug cartel's base - done, he simply had to wait and let his team do what he had prepared them to do. While he hadn't wanted to volunteer for this part of the mission, he had been the obvious choice. Batman wouldn't be happy, but the mission was going smoothly.

Ten long, tense minutes and a lot of frantic yelling and shooting later, Superboy burst in, flooding the dark cell with light from the hall. He quickly moved to free Nightwing from the chains without a word. The lack of teasing was appreciated, especially when Superboy had to lift Dick, bridal style, and carry him out of the compound.

It was hours later before the drug finally began to wear off. The team was back in the cave, taking advantage of the last hour of downtime before those with homes outside the cave were expected to return. Nightwing spent those hours in the medical bay, sitting mostly upright with the support of the adjustable bed. The first function to return was his speech and eye movement, so he requested that a mobile computer station be brought so he could write up the mission report with voice commands.

He had been hoping that Batman wouldn't show up to check on the team. It had been a simple, straightforward mission, and so Nightwing fostered that hope with a great deal of optimism. He was sorely disappointed when his father and mentor appeared in the doorway, scowling more deeply than usual from behind the black cowl.

Dick shut down the report with a command and prepared himself for a chewing out. He was pretty sure he'd broken about ten of Batman's rules of field conduct on this mission. Not that he cared, he reminded himself, trying to quell the anxiety with that bitter feeling he'd been harboring for months. He wasn't sure which side won.

"How are you doing?" the man asked gruffly, approaching the end of the bed, making Nightwing's throat clench.

"Fine," Dick replied as nonchalantly as he could. "Uninjured. I can talk, and I think I'm even starting to move my pinky finger." He offered his signature dash of humor, in spite of his audience.

There was a long silence before the Batman finally spoke.

"The cartel was rounded up. Not one man escaped. There were no injuries to the team."

Dick hadn't been prepared for praise - for this was praise, in Batman's own way. He didn't reply, unsure whether answering would be followed by one of Batman's infamous buts, so he simply waited for the man to continue.

"Did you deem it necessary to submit yourself to such a helpless situation?"

There was the question. It was a thin mask for Batman's skepticism of his former partner's competence, in light of the stresses of recent events. Dick's answer would determine whether he would be reprimanded or praised for his decisions. Not that he needed Batman's approval.

Nightwing breathed a sigh and fell into business mode. "Working within the time constraints placed upon us, there was no other way to quickly and effectively locate the compound and recover the chemicals. I was the best choice to act as hostage, because the cartel's previous experience with you would tempt them to keep me alive for their own purposes, whereas any other team member would have been deemed a threat and likely killed."

"If they had decided to kill you on the spot?" Batman prompted, his tone darkening.

"Theatrics," Nightwing responded readily. "I played up some fear, asked them what they were going to do with me. I deduced their plans before allowing them to inject me with the drug."

"And if the drug had rendered you unconscious, instead of just paralyzed?"

"We were prepared for that possibility. I gave Kaldur the code for the GPS tracker in my arm."

Batman's eyes narrowed at this. "And the code now?"

"Already changed. I'm due for a replacement next week, anyway."

Silence stretched across the small room. Dick knew that, contrary to popular belief, Batman was not deep in thought at this stage. He knew that his mentor had already made his judgment on the matter. Rather, the silence was intended to make his audience squirm and tell. But Dick had figured out Batman's tactics years ago, and he didn't feel the need to squirm like he had as a child. Furthermore, he had nothing to feel guilty about - the readiness with which he'd answered Batman's questions were proof of that. So he simply waited for the Batman's decision. What he couldn't help feeling was a level of unease and anticipation about how Batman would respond. Would he disapprove? But he set aside the internal emotion and boldly participated in this stoic staring contest.

"Congratulations."

That one word was all it took for Dick's spirits to soar to the ceiling and beyond. The emotion surprised him. He felt like jumping out of the hospital bed and hitting the gym with fervor to work off all this energy that had sprung to his body in that happy instant. But Batman had more to say, and Dick was still paralyzed in the bed, so Dick contained his childish joy.

"Your willingness to set aside your own need for control and security was the necessary element to fulfill the mission. You played your part and trusted your team. Good job."

Dick couldn't help it; a smile, albeit a small one, escaped his lips. He could tell that Batman saw it as the man turned to leave. "Thanks, Batman."

"Oh, and Nightwing," the Batman stopped at the doorway with a final thought, the name ringing across the empty space. "Don't think this means I condone the use of this tactic in future missions."

Dick's grin widened. "Good job, Nightwing. Don't ever do it again," he summarized with a fair amount of mirth. "Got it."

But the Batman was already gone, leaving Nightwing alone with his whirling thoughts in the quietness of the medical bay.

Hey fellas! I hope you enjoyed it!

If you liked it, please write a review! I like constructive criticism as the best form of feedback!

TerraThorn