A/N This fic was written as a gift for the lovely Black Friar's birthday. A very special thank you to Sidekick Heroisms for the excellent beta!

Warning for mild swearing.

"The strength of the team is each individual member. The strength of each member is the team." ― Phil Jackson

oOo

Batman glanced at his watch for the fourth time in ten minutes and frowned. Robin was late. His partner had been spending more and more time with his friends at Mount Justice lately, but he took his missions very seriously and was never late for one, especially not when it involved Batman.

He switched on the tracking program on his wrist computer, a blue glow lighting up the darkness around him, and felt his scowl deepen when there was no blinking dot that indicated Robin was nearby or even in Gotham. He tapped the communicator in his ear.

"Robin, report."

There was no sound, not even static. It was as though Robin's communicator had been switched off.

A sense of foreboding settled in his gut as he activated the holographic interface on his wrist computer.

"Batman to Mount Justice."

It took a minute, leaving Batman to wonder if the rest of the team had already returned to their respective homes, but then the team's leader appeared on screen. "This is Aqualad."

"-is it? Hey, is that Batman? We're getting a new mission already?" the unmistakable voice of Kid Flash said off-screen before the speedster's eager face popped up beside Aqualad. "Sweet!"

Aqualad ignored him. "How may we be of assistance, Batman?"

"Is Robin with you?"

Aqualad raised his eyebrows and Batman's stomach tightened further. "He is not. He left over an hour ago to rendezvous with you. I believe he took his R-Cycle."

Robin left over an hour ago. Batman gnashed his teeth. It should've taken the boy approximately forty-five minutes to get from Mount Justice to the rendezvous point in the outskirts of Gotham, assuming he would've taken the R-Cycle from the nearest zeta-tube exit.

"Why?" Kid Flash asked, interrupting his thoughts, his eager look fading. "He's not with you?"

"No. He's fifteen minutes overdue and his tracker and communicator seem to have been deactivated."

"Deactivated? Wait, so- what does that mean? Are you saying Rob's missing?" Kid Flash asked.

Batman didn't miss the worried tone of his voice. Behind the speedster Superboy, Miss Martian and Artemis now also appeared on screen, their interest apparently piqued.

"I'm saying that Robin is currently unaccounted for and that he may be in trouble."

"How can we help?" Aqualad asked calmly.

"Dude! What do you mean, how can we help?" Kid Flash cut in, turning to Aqualad and planting his hands on his hips. "We go looking for him of cou-"

Aqualad silenced Kid Flash with a look.

"For now, I want you to remain at Mount Justice in case he tries to contact you," Batman said.

Aqualad frowned. "Batman, one or more of us could join you in Gotham to aid in the search."

"Negative."

"What? But-!"

"I will keep you apprised. Batman out," he cut off Kid Flash and shut down the interface. He started the tracking program once more and this time tuned it in to the tracker embedded in the R-Cycle. A small dot appeared on the screen, blinking weakly at him. It wasn't moving.

Batman punched a button on his utility belt and swung down from the roof of the abandoned building he'd been stationed on. He hit the ground running, small pebbles crunching beneath his heavy boots. The Batmobile screeched to a halt in front of him as he reached the main road, its headlights almost blinding him, and he flung the door open before throwing himself into the driver seat. He programmed the navigation system to zero in on the R-Cycle's tracking signal and floored the gas.

oOo

Batman frowned as he pulled away the thick branches that were clearly meant to hide a battered R-Cycle. The bike had been tossed into a ditch on the side of the road and his heart dropped when he saw the extent of the damage. The front wheel and most of the frame were bent and twisted and the back tire was missing altogether.

He examined the mangled mess for any clues as to Robin's whereabouts and physical well-being. There didn't seem to be any blood on the bike itself, but there had been several red stains on the asphalt on the main road that indicated Robin might be in bad shape. If the blood was, in fact, Robin's.

It looked like someone had run Robin off the road, on purpose, had attempted to hide the bike and then taken Robin. The chaotic pattern of tire tracks he had first come upon when he arrived at the scene told him Robin had put up a fight and given his assailants a run for their money.

Batman pulled a small camera from one of the pouches of his utility belt and was in the middle of snapping pictures of the scene when an urgent beeping drew his attention. Almost dropping the camera in his haste to switch on his wrist computer, he zoomed in on a small dot blinking rapidly at him.

Robin's emergency transponder.

Batman raised an eyebrow. Had the boy only just managed to turn it on or had someone else, one of Robin's attackers, found it and decided to use it to lure Batman into a trap?

He had no way of knowing. And it didn't matter. Trap or no, Robin needed him.

He briefly considered deploying the team as back-up but ultimately decided against it for the same reason he hadn't allowed them to assist with the search: the team was new. They were still exploring each other's strengths and weaknesses, still learning to work together and function as a unit rather than acting as five separate parts.

They still made mistakes. It had only been a week ago that they had gotten their memories erased on a mission in Bialya, and they'd gotten pounded by Clayface a few days before that.

No. He would not unnecessarily risk Robin's life by letting an as yet inexperienced team of teenaged superheroes assist in a rescue operation. Especially not in Gotham. He would notify the team of Robin's possible whereabouts and have them on standby in the event he wouldn't be able to handle Robin's assailants on his own.

Shutting down his computer, he jogged back to the road where the Batmobile was waiting for him. Once seated, he slammed the door and floored the gas, raising a hand to his ear.

"Batman to Mount Justice."

oOo

Robin's emergency transporter led him to Gotham Harbor, to a small cargo ship that lay at anchor a few miles from shore. Batman had summoned the Batsub immediately after he'd brought the Young Justice team up to speed. The team had clearly been unhappy about being sidelined – and that was putting it mildly – but had reluctantly agreed to stay put and monitor the situation from the cave.

By the time he'd arrived at the harbor, the sub was waiting for him. Once on board, he'd submerged the boat in order to approach the other ship undetected. The onboard scanners told him there were seven targets on deck and four more below deck, two of whom appeared to be in close proximity to Robin.

He expertly maneuvered the sub to within a few yards of the ship before letting it resurface behind the other vessel. As he emerged from the hatch, he glanced up at the night sky and was pleased to find it completely overcast, covering up any natural light that might give away his presence.

He boarded the cargo vessel quickly, the only sound a faint rustle of his cape. Advancing towards the port bow, he soundlessly took out two thugs, tossing their machine guns overboard. Before continuing, he checked his tracker once more. Satisfied that Robin's transponder hadn't moved, he swiftly incapacitated three more men, melting back into the shadows as he made for the remaining two criminals on deck.

He had just locked his arm around the nearest man's throat from behind when a sudden, strong wave rocked the ship, sending Batman staggering for just a few seconds.

It was enough for the thug to blindly reach for his weapon and squeeze the trigger.

The bullets sailed harmlessly into the air but the noise shattered the silence like a thunderclap. With a growl, Batman regained his balance and used the pressure points in the man's neck to disable him, letting the limp body slide to the floor.

Shouts and the sound of boots pounding the deck alerted him to approaching reinforcements and he sent a batarang flying towards the noise before he even saw another gunman round a corner. The man's weapon clattered to the deck and Batman rushed at him—

The ship was suddenly flooded with light as if a pair of stadium lights had been turned on.

"Hold it right there, Batman, or I'll toss your boy overboard!"

Batman froze. On the top deck, near the rail, stood a man holding a very pale, very unsteady Robin by the arm. There was a sizable bruise on Robin's right cheekbone and a gash on his forehead was leaving a trail of blood down the side of his face. His arms were drawn back, his hands apparently restrained behind him.

The man didn't seem armed but Batman felt his heart pound anyway when he realized Robin wasn't just unsteady; he seemed barely even conscious. He was listing noticeably and the man had to keep tightening his grip on the boy's arm to prevent him from falling over. Robin's wandering gaze told Batman he might not even be aware of what was going on.

The man smirked. "Not so big and bad now, are you?"

"Let the boy go," Batman growled, as he heard guns being cocked all around him.

"Oh, I will. He's not much use to me like this anyway. I do apologize, some of my men were a little…overzealous when they captured him," the man said, sending one of the men flanking him a withering look.

Batman frowned. This guy was obviously the leader. "Who are you?"

"The big bad Bat doesn't know who I am? Wow." The man smirked again and Batman felt a sudden urge to kick in his teeth. "But then I suppose I'm not exactly from Gotham. You can call me Linford."

Batman filed away the name for later. "What do you want?" he asked through clenched teeth, his hands balling into fists as he watched Robin sag even further in the man's grip.

Linford yanked Robin upright, a stab of impatience clear on his face. "Get up, brat," he snarled, shaking the boy roughly before returning his attention to Batman.

Batman gnashed his teeth. One way or another he was going to do serious damage to this guy.

"The more interesting question is what I'm going to do with you, now that I have you and your boy at my mercy," Linford said. "I suppose I could just have my men shoot you right now... Pretty sure we'd be doing the entire Gotham underworld a huge favor, but- that seems rather boring and I like to have a little fun."

The instant Batman saw the man's lips curl into a sneer, he knew what Linford was going to do. He felt the blood drain from his face.

"NO!" he shouted, just as the man picked up Robin by the waist – as if he weighed little more than a feather – and hurled him over the side.

Batman was sprinting towards the nearest guardrail before anyone had time to blink, shedding his cape as he moved. His utility belt clunked against the metal as he reached the rail and he peered into the dark water, desperate to catch a glimpse of a pale face.

He spotted a flash of red instead and swung himself feet first over the rail without a second's hesitation. As gravity dragged at him, he mentally prepared himself for the freezing waters he was about to plunge into. Winter in Gotham was in full swing and the waters of the Great Bay were bitterly cold. Despite his efforts to steel himself, the cold spray from the rolling waves spattering his face raised goose bumps on his skin.

It was nothing compared to actually hitting the water. His suit provided some protection from the frigid temperatures but the cold still punched the breath from his lungs and momentarily paralyzed his limbs, making him sink like dead weight.

A sudden image of a barely conscious Robin flashing before his eyes was what finally released his mind and body from the water's numbing claws and his legs began to kick furiously, propelling him to the surface.

He'd barely even taken a breath before he was frantically casting his gaze around in search of his partner – no, his son. He felt the current drag at him, and saw nothing but black water and white foam. Panic began to wrap itself around his chest, squeezing hard.

"Robin!" he shouted, desperately jerking his head around as he treaded water. "ROBIN!"

Something suddenly whizzed past him, creating a small splash two feet in front of him. Another splash, closer this time. Several yards west of him there were more splashes and he realized—

Goddammit, they're shooting at us!

He dove. Despite his rage towards the men firing their weapons at them, he knew that by doing so they had given him an important clue as to where to look for Robin. He kicked hard to escape the current and the weight of his armor dragging him down and ignored the chill seeping through his suit.

Robin. He needed to get to Robin. That was all that mattered. He refused to think about how long the boy had been exposed to the freezing water by now and how the current may have pulled him further away, or pulled him under.

When his lungs began to scream for air, he broke the surface and swung his head around to get his bearings.

No…

His heart dropped to his stomach when he realized that despite his powerful strokes, he'd drifted off course, closer to shore. It meant he was now out of range of the men's fire, though it seemed they had stopped shooting anyway, but not much closer to where he'd estimated Robin to be. He set off in that direction once again but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that even if he did reach Robin's last known location, the strong current would've ensured that Robin would no longer be there.

All he saw was blackness and he stopped swimming, looking around wildly. "ROBIN!" he bellowed, his voice tinged with desperation. "ROBIN! Robin, damn it, where are you?!"

His heart pounding, he plunged beneath the surface again, aware that it was a futile effort, but refusing to give up, to give in, to admit defeat.

To accept that he may have lost his son.

NO! NO, GODDAMMIT!

He kicked to the surface and threw his gaze around once more. Nothing. There was nothing.

Cold fear was making his chest feel tight, his limbs like lead, his throat dry. No, no, no, no… "ROBIN! Robin, answer me, dammit!"

But there was no response, no flash of color among the blackness, no life.

A sense of loss threatened to overwhelm him and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to distract himself from feeling. "ROBIN!"

Oh god…Robin…Dick…no…

Then, suddenly, something pale rose up from the depths of the dark waters several yards ahead and his heart stuttered. Whatever it was, it started moving towards him, and as it drew nearer he realized it was a man with light hair and brown skin – Batman squinted, no, it was a teenager…

He recognized the boy before he noticed the tattoos.

Aqualad.

The teen was clutching something against his chest. Hope bloomed and relief swelled – until Batman got a good look at Aqualad's burden.

It was Robin.

It was Robin, but the boy's face was so white and his lips were so blue that he looked like he was already dead. Batman's throat closed up and his heart seized with panic and dread when a traitorous voice in his head whispered that maybe he was.

"—in need of assistance? Batman!"

Batman shook himself and tore his eyes away from Robin when he realized Aqualad had paused beside him and was speaking to him urgently, his voice raised to be heard over the sound of the waves.

"Save Robin, dammit!" Batman shouted back. "Go, don't wait for me!"

Aqualad nodded and did not hesitate. He tightened his hold on his unconscious teammate and set out to shore with powerful, one-armed strokes.

Batman followed immediately, propelling himself forward with hard kicks. He had no idea what the hell Aqualad was doing here and how he could've possibly known they were in trouble, but right now he didn't give a damn. He was just grateful that he was here, because now there was hope, even if it was a fool's hope.

It wasn't long before his own exposure to the freezing temperatures and exertion began to catch up to him, and he had to fight to keep the current from pulling him under. Ahead of him he saw that Aqualad had reached the shore and had scooped Robin up in his arms as he ran up the beach. As Batman drew nearer, he saw a yellow and red blur streak past, and when it came to a halt beside Aqualad, he realized with a start that it was Kid Flash.

Then- it wasn't just Aqualad. The Team. The Team was here.

How the hell-?

Now is not the time, Wayne! Swim, dammit! Concentrate on swimming! Get to Dick!

Fatigue dragged at him and every single kick and stroke became a struggle, his arms and legs feeling like they were being weighed down by blocks of cement. He tried to estimate the distance to shore and realized his body might shut down before he made it there.

No! I have to get to Dick!

He summoned all his remaining energy and stubbornly managed to swim several more yards. The shore was noticeably closer now, but his leg was beginning to cramp up and the strength in his arms was failing. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his head above water, and he choked on a mouthful of salt water.

It dawned on him that sheer force of will wasn't going to be enough to keep his body, with the fifty pounds of added armor, afloat.

Just as he was about to go under, there was a mighty splash somewhere to his right and a few seconds later a strong arm wrapped itself around his torso from behind, shoring him up. His first instinct was to fight the powerful hold because he had no idea who the arm belonged to and whether they were friend or foe.

But as he tried to turn his head, coughing and sputtering, he caught a flash of steel blue eyes in a young face, and short dark hair.

Superboy.

Batman's knee-jerk reaction was to scowl and snarl because Superboy reminded him of the Boy Scout and when it came to Superman, he would always, always deny that he needed any kind of assistance. But this boy wasn't Superman and this wasn't about him and his goddamn pride anyway, it was about Dick and the fact that he needed to get to him right now, and Superboy was helping him achieve this goal.

Didn't mean he had to like that he was essentially being towed to shore by a teenager. His only consolation was that Superboy was far less talkative and chipper than the Boy Scout.

They made it to shore in under a minute and Superboy supported him as he dragged himself onto the beach, gasping and his muscles spasming. Now that he was on dry land, he felt like he weighed ten times heavier and was glad for Superboy's supporting arm, though he would never admit it.

"C'mon, dude, breathe!"

His ears picked up the desperation in Kid Flash's voice immediately and despite his exhaustion Batman raised his head so fast that he almost gave himself whiplash. Just a few feet away, Kid Flash and Aqualad were bent over Robin's still form. The speedster was administering chest compressions while Aqualad gave the younger boy mouth-to-mouth.

Batman's first impulse was to run over there, shove the both of them aside and take over himself; the thought that other people were in control of saving his boy's life when he was right there was almost unbearable. But he knew he was in no shape to perform CPR right now, and the two boys seemed to know what they were doing.

Nevertheless, he shrugged off Superboy's arm and stumbled towards them, his legs cramping. He was three feet away from them when his knees gave out and all he was able to do was kneel in the loose sand, clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering, and watch how his son's friends tried to save his boy's life.

Something about the way Kid Flash was performing the chest compressions was off, and he frowned when he realized what it was: Robin's hands were still restrained behind his back, which had prevented the other boys from laying him out flat. It made the chest compressions a lot more ineffective.

Before he had a chance to remark on it, Aqualad looked up suddenly, and nodded at something or someone behind Batman. A second later Superboy brushed past him and he watched as both Aqualad and Kid Flash paused to let him snap the handcuffs around Robin's wrists. As soon as he was done, Aqualad and Kid Flash laid the younger boy out properly and resumed their efforts – fear, desperation and determination written on both of their faces.

"C'mon, Rob, breathe! Don't do this, dude!" Kid Flash sounded out of breath, but the fear in his voice echoed in Batman's ears.

As the seconds ticked by, Batman dug his shaking hands helplessly into the sand as his heart pounded so hard it was becoming difficult to breathe. The debilitating cold wasn't helping. He kept his eyes glued to Robin's face, watching for any sign that he might still be alive.

But he was so pale. So goddamn pale, the blue lips and the wet, dark bangs plastered to his forehead making the contrast even more frightening. He tried to calculate how long it had been, how long Robin had been in the water, how long Aqualad and Kid Flash had been working on him, but the cold was numbing his brain and his mind drew a blank. It felt like hours, but it might have only been a few minutes.

The sound of feet pounding the sand made him tense. Forced to tear his eyes away from his son, he looked up to see Artemis arrive, Miss Martian flying beside her.

"We got the bad guys," Artemis was saying. "They're secured on the ship. How's Robi- oh god."

Batman vaguely registered Artemis stopping dead in her tracks and staring, while Miss Martian landed on her feet beside her, both hands covering her mouth in shock.

There was a sudden strangled sound, and Batman whipped his head back around just in time to watch Aqualad and Kid Flash quickly but carefully roll Robin onto his side, before the younger boy started gagging and coughing up half of the Great Bay, finally expelling the water that had threatened to drown him.

Relief washed over Batman, and he saw the same emotion reflected in the team's faces.

The two older boys supported Robin as he convulsed and gasped, and after a while, Kid Flash leaned forward and laid a hand on Robin's shoulder. "Dude, can you hear me?" he asked, peering into the younger boy's face from above. "Dude? C'mon, Rob, wake up."

Robin shuddered as the last of the water dribbled down his chin but he didn't respond. His eyes remained closed and his body went limp once more.

Batman frowned, noting that Robin wasn't shivering. That was bad. They needed to get him warm. Fast.

Before he could open his mouth, there was a sudden sharp intake of breath, and he looked up at Miss Martian, who was staring at Kid Flash. "Wally, your- your hands…"

At the horror in the girl's voice, Batman immediately shifted his gaze to the speedster and felt his eyes grow wide behind his mask; Kid Flash's hands were covered in blood.

"Uh… that's- not mine," Kid Flash said, staring at his bloodied gloves, before the color drained from his face. "It's got to be Rob's- oh god, he's bleeding somewhere!"

Batman immediately wanted to bark orders, but his tongue was frozen and numb in his mouth and all he got out was a pathetic stutter. Instead, it was Aqualad who gave the orders.

"Kid, hold him still." As Kid Flash gripped Robin's shoulder tightly, holding him steady on his side, Aqualad quickly and efficiently ran his hands over Robin's body. "Gunshot wound to the lower back," he reported grimly.

Goddamnit! The fucking bastards shot him! Batman's hands dug deeper into the sand and his jaw clenched so tight, his molars ached. A gunshot wound to the lower back meant possible kidney damage and spinal injury. His heart pounded in his ears.

"Oh god, he needs the hospital, like, right now!" Kid Flash was saying, his voice rising in panic.

Aqualad tugged off one of Robin's gloves and pressed his fingertips to the boy's wrist. "His pulse is very weak. We must hurry. M'gann-" Aqualad began, but was interrupted by Kid Flash.

"No, I'll take him," the speedster said, his face pale but determined. "I can get him to Gotham General faster than if we get the bioship."

Aqualad looked at him. "Can you hold him steady?"

"What?! Dude, what kind of question is that? Of course I can!"

"Kid, this is important. Robin is hypothermic; if he is moved around too much, his heart may fail. I believe the entry wound is located far enough from the spine to not have caused significant spinal injury, but we must limit risk of further injury as much as possible."

Kid Flash gulped. "I'll be careful."

"All right," Aqualad said. He replaced Kid Flash's hand on Robin's shoulder with his own, and as the speedster got to his feet, Aqualad very slowly tipped Robin onto his back in the sand. Unprompted, Artemis knelt by Robin's head – Batman had almost forgotten she was there – and supported his neck with one hand as she gently raised his upper body by half an inch with her other, so Aqualad could slide his arm beneath Robin's shoulders. He slipped his other arm under Robin's knees and slowly, very slowly, stood up, Artemis hovering near Robin's head.

Kid Flash held out his arms and Aqualad gently transferred his burden to the speedster. Robin groaned, the movement apparently causing enough discomfort to penetrate his subconscious.

The sound made Batman want to break something. He had never felt so useless in his life.

"Sorry, dude," Kid Flash murmured as he held Robin's limp form against his chest protectively, the younger boy's head propped against the speedster's shoulder.

"Do you have him?" Aqualad asked, arms still hovering beneath Robin's body.

Kid Flash nodded, his eyes glued to Robin's pale face.

"Good," Aqualad said, straightening. "Take him to Gotham General-"

"N-no. F-Free Cl-Clinic," Batman managed to force out between his clenched teeth, and god, how he hated, loathed the stutter.

"The what?" Artemis said, throwing a look over her shoulder.

"Gotham Free Clinic. I know where that is," Kid Flash spoke up, glancing at him, and Batman had never been more glad that Kid Flash knew about their lives beyond the mask. "Uh…Rob showed me once."

Aqualad nodded. "Very well. We will meet you there with Batman as soon as possible."

Kid Flash hesitated. "Uh…can somebody-"

Artemis immediately stepped forward and carefully positioned Kid Flash's goggles over his eyes. He gave her a weak smile. "Thanks."

"Just don't drop him."

Kid Flash scowled. "What, you seriously think I would drop my best friend? Come on-"

"Kid, time and place," Aqualad interrupted, and Kid Flash immediately looked contrite.

"Right, sorry."

"Wait," Miss Martian said suddenly, touching the speedster's arm to prevent him from taking off. She reached up to unclasp her cloak, pulling it from around her shoulders and quickly covering Robin with it, tucking in the edges carefully.

Batman could hear Robin's labored breathing from where he was still kneeling in the sand and wished the Team would stop dawdling and get his boy to Leslie already. He knew, rationally, that what Miss Martian was doing was important and necessary; Robin needed to be protected from the increased wind chill from travelling at high speeds, but he couldn't help but feel that time was running out for Robin and all this standing around wasn't getting him any closer to the medical attention he needed.

Apparently, Aqualad felt the same way. "Go," he said as soon as Miss Martian had finished, and with a blast of air Kid Flash and his precious cargo were gone.

Batman stared at the spot Kid Flash had just vacated and tried to estimate how long it would take him to reach the clinic. It would be minutes, but he wanted to know how many minutes. But now that Robin was finally getting help, the cold began to overwhelm his senses again and he struggled to understand what Aqualad – when had he crouched down beside him? – was saying.

"-getting the bioship. Are you hurt?"

Batman jerked his head, or thought he did.

"Good, I will- "

He missed what Aqualad said next because he couldn't hear over the sound of his teeth chattering. Ice was running through his veins instead of blood, and when his vision began to tunnel, alarm bells started to go off in the back of his mind because it meant his heart rate was slowing down to the point where his heart was having trouble pumping blood to his brain. He tried to remember the mental techniques he'd learned years ago that would help pull his mind free from the numbness, but the cold had already devoured too big a part of his brain and he couldn't focus. Couldn't think.

He barely registered the hand that landed on his shoulder; reflexes made him jerk belatedly and clumsily at the contact, no longer having any control over his body. He sensed a shape leaning close and he lashed out at it, but he never felt his fist connect and the next thing he knew he was on his back and his eyes were closing of their own accord.

And didn't open again.

oOo

"—Hrts…"

"—okay, Rob, you're gonna be okay. Just hang in there, dude, alright?"

"Hrts… Please…"

The voices, interspersed with quiet moans, penetrated the darkness before the smell of antiseptics. It took a while for Bruce's brain to reboot, his thoughts slow and jumbled. His limbs felt heavy and stiff when he moved them, and he gradually became aware he was shivering a little—

"S-Stop…hurts…"

It took another few seconds for the voice to finally register with the right part of his brain, and he jolted upright. Dick!

"Shh, Dick, I know it hurts, sweetie, I know. Just a little longer, I promise."

Leslie.

Bruce turned his head towards the far side of the room, where he saw Leslie Thompkins lean over a figure lying in a bed, who was practically buried in blankets. Kid Flash was standing on the other side of the bed, his back to Bruce.

Bruce shoved the heavy blankets he had been covered with aside, noting in passing that he had been stripped of his Batman suit and was wearing green hospital scrubs instead, and swung his feet to the floor. A pair of slippers had been thoughtfully left out for him and he quickly crammed his feet into them before rising, ignoring the head rush that made him sway a little.

The room was fairly warm but he still had to fight the occasional shiver as he made his way over to the other bed.

"…hurtss…m-make it s-stop…"

The broken plea tugged at his heart and he was growling before he was even halfway. "Why haven't you given him anything for the pain?"

Leslie glanced up at him, looking distinctly unintimidated. "You should stay in bed, Bruce."

Bruce gave her a look and Leslie rolled her eyes. "We need to raise his core temperature a little more before I can give him a sedative," she said as Bruce joined Kid Flash by the bed. "If I give him anything now it'll send him straight into cardiac arrest."

His eyes fell onto the figure in the bed and his mouth grew dry. Dick no longer looked like he was dead but instead he looked like he was in agony, which was almost as bad. He was still horribly pale, his eyes were clenched shut and his mouth was twisted into a grimace. He was moving, trembling, tossing his head from side, moaning and muttering like he was caught in a fever-induced delirium.

"…hurts…"

"What about the bullet wound? He needs surgery," Bruce said as he watched Leslie gently run her fingers through Dick's damp hair and Kid Flash pat Dick's bare shoulder in what was probably meant to be a reassuring manner.

"Tell me something I don't know," Leslie replied, "but we need to raise his core temperature or he won't survive the surgery. I'm sorry, Bruce, but the only thing we can do right now is try to calm him down. I've cleaned the wound and the bleeding has slowed enough to buy us a little time, but we need to get him to stop moving around so much. We don't want the bullet to do more damage than it already has."

Bruce nodded and clenched his jaw. Dick was writhing and struggling beneath the mountain of blankets, clearly agitated. Clearing his throat, he moved in closer and leaned forward, only barely aware of Kid Flash stepping aside to give him room.

"Dick?"

Dick's head jerked and he muttered something unintelligible, but that was the only response.

Bruce found Dick's roaming hand beneath the blankets and took it in his own.

"Dick? C'mon, Dickie, open your eyes."

Kid Flash shifted beside him and he felt the speedster's eyes on him suddenly. Bruce grimaced, realizing Dick would be mortified if he found out Bruce had called him "Dickie" in front of his best friend, but he would deal with that later. Right now, he needed Dick awake and coherent so they could get him to calm down. He squeezed the hand he was holding, small in his grip, hoping to provide more stimulus. Dick's head jerked again but his eyes remained closed as he groaned and whimpered.

Bruce could feel claws of despair beginning to tear at him; Dick's movements, though uncoordinated and sluggish, were only growing more volatile, his legs constantly shifting and kicking beneath the blankets, and Bruce heard Leslie instruct Kid Flash to pin Dick's shoulders to the bed.

A sudden memory of another time where Dick had been injured and unresponsive stirred in his mind and he recalled how, after several tries of rousing him gently, the boy had finally responded to the commanding voice of Batman.

Having nothing to lose, he leaned forward once more and lowered his voice to a rumble. "Robin."

Dick's hand twitched in his grip.

"Robin," he tried again, louder and more commanding. He could feel both Leslie and Kid Flash stare at him. "Robin, wake up and look at me."

At first he thought it wasn't working; Dick kept tossing his head to and fro, but then finally, finally, his blue eyes snapped open.

Bruce fought to keep from crushing Dick's hand when he saw the dilated pupils and the wandering, unfocused gaze, both possible symptoms of a serious concussion. The pain reflected in the boy's eyes made him want to storm back to that damn ship or wherever the hell that Linford guy currently was and beat the bastard to a bloody pulp, but he wrestled down the urge.

He was Bruce Wayne the father right now, not Batman the vigilante.

"Dick?"

It took a few seconds, but finally Dick's blue eyes found Bruce's.

"B-Bruce?" Dick's teeth were chattering, which in itself was a good sign. It meant he was warming up enough that his body's natural heating mechanism was kicking in.

"Hey- hey," he repeated when Dick's eyes slid away. "Dickie, look at me." He waited for Dick's eyes to find his again and smiled. "That's it. Listen, I need you to lie still for me, okay? Can you do that?"

"Ngh…i-it hurts, B-Bruce…"

"I know it does, Dickie, I know, but it's important. I need you to try, okay?"

A small whimper escaped Dick. "B-but-"

"Please, Dickie, it's important."

"O-okay."

And Dick did try, valiantly. But it was a losing battle. Tears stood out in his eyes as he struggled to breathe through the pain. Bruce tried to get him to remember some of the pain management techniques he'd taught him, but Dick's head injury was interfering with his ability to focus and it was taking all of the boy's strength just to remain conscious.

It was another fifteen minutes before Leslie decided it was time to take Dick into surgery. His core temperature was still dangerously low for a major operation, but Dick had been growing steadily weaker and his blood pressure was dropping.

They couldn't wait any longer.

Before she wheeled Dick out, she replaced his mask, transforming him into Robin once more. As much as Leslie trusted the people she worked with, she knew they couldn't take any chances, and Bruce was glad for her caution.

Dick was barely conscious at this point, his eyes almost closed and his head lolling. Bruce leaned in once more and gently brushed his fingers through Dick's still damp hair.

"Hang in there, Dickie, okay?" he said, watching his son's features closely for any sign of response. "You're going to be fine. Dr. Thompkins is going to look after you."

He glanced at Leslie, who nodded and gave him a tight smile. It took him all he had to step back when she wheeled his son out of the room. He stared at the doors that closed behind her, his fingernails digging into his palms.

"Is-is he gonna be okay?"

Bruce whipped around to face Kid Flash, irritated with himself that he'd forgotten the boy was there. The look on the teen's face surprised him. He was pale, his eyes wide and his hands were trembling slightly. He had never seen the speedster look so anxious, so…scared.

"I don't know," Bruce admitted, and wished he was better at this kind of thing when he saw the devastation on Kid Flash's face.

Something else occurred to him suddenly, and he froze. Where was the rest of the team? And who the hell had taken off his costume? He would've been too heavy for Leslie to lift by herself and she and Kid Flash would've been too busy looking after Dick anyway. The Team must've done it, but had they discovered his identity in the process?

"Kid Flash, where is the Team?" he demanded, sounding harsher than he meant to.

"Huh?" Kid Flash looked up at him. "Oh, uh…they're waiting outside. In the hallway, I mean. Or they were after they brought you in."

"Do they know?"

"Uh…know what?" Kid Flash stared at him, clearly not comprehending. "Oh. No, they don't know your identities," he said, frowning a little. "Superboy and Aqualad, they uh…they got you out of your suit and into scrubs, but they left the cowl on. It was Dr. Thompkins who took that off."

Bruce nodded, grateful that at least he didn't have to worry about their identities being compromised. "You should update the team on the situation and return to Mount Justice. Superman or Red Tornado will debrief you."

"What? But-!"

"The surgery will likely take a few hours," Bruce interrupted patiently, but firmly. "Waiting here will be a waste of your time, and having a team of young superheroes camping out in the hallway – even if it is secured – will only increase the chances of someone finding out what's going on. Head to Mount Justice, get cleaned up and debrief."

Kid Flash scowled. "Okay. But once that's all done, I'm coming back in civilian clothes." The teen looked him straight in the eye and despite everything the corner of Bruce's mouth twitched.

The kid was nothing if not loyal.

"I would expect nothing less," he replied.

Kid Flash nodded and headed for the door as Bruce began to gather up the Robin uniform that had been flung over the back of a metal chair.

"Bat- uh…Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce turned to find Kid Flash hesitating at the door, his hand on the doorknob.

"You'll…let us know if you hear anything, right?"

Bruce regarded the teen for a long moment, noting the determined set of his mouth and the tightness around his eyes, and nodded.

oOo

It was several hours before the doors to the room opened again. Bruce had spent that time either pacing a hole in the floor or sitting in a chair, pulling at his own hair in fear and frustration. He had – barely – refrained from punching anything, knowing Leslie would not be amused if he broke anything, whether it be expensive medical equipment or his hand.

Kid Flash had returned, barely two hours after leaving, dressed in jeans, sneakers and a sweater. Bruce had watched him pace the room and listened to him worry and fret and ask inane questions for over an hour before banishing him to the hallway. This had drawn heavy protests from Kid Flash of course, but Bruce had the advantage of being Batman and that had been enough to persuade the teen, despite the fact that he probably didn't look very intimidating right now in his green hospital scrubs and slippers.

When the doors opened, the chair Bruce sat in was knocked backwards and instantly forgotten as he surged up to meet a tired-looking Leslie, who was just removing her operating mask.

"How is he?" Bruce demanded, only just managing to refrain from grabbing her by the shoulders.

Leslie sighed and pushed back a lock of graying hair. "He was extremely lucky, Bruce. While his protective gear didn't stop the bullet, it did slow it down enough to prevent major damage. The bullet missed the spinal cord completely and only nicked a kidney. There will probably be some blood in his urine for the next few days, but the kidney should heal by itself."

Although the sense of relief was almost overwhelming, Bruce said nothing. Leslie obviously had more to say and he knew from experience that she didn't appreciate being interrupted.

"There was some surrounding nerve and tissue damage that we've had to repair but nothing he won't recover from," Leslie went on. "Provided he stays off his feet for at least a week." Leslie gave him a stern look before continuing. "I'm actually more concerned about the head wound. He was too out of it prior to the surgery due to the combination of hypothermia and shock, so I haven't been able to get a proper handle on the severity of the trauma. We'll have to monitor him closely over the next few hours."

Bruce nodded. Close monitoring wasn't going to be a problem: he wasn't planning on leaving Dick's bedside anytime soon.

"Then there's the comparatively minor injuries: two broken ribs, a sprained wrist and ankle, multiple lacerations and contusions- Bruce, what happened?"

"It's a long story," Bruce said, shaking his head. "I don't have all the details yet."

Leslie raised an eyebrow but let it slide, though he knew she expected to be briefed on all the facts later.

She led him through the double doors into a corridor that was currently sealed off from the main clinic. It was an area that lent them the privacy and security they needed to keep their identities safe whenever he or Robin were in need of serious medical attention.

Leslie turned a corner and stopped in front of the second door to the left. "I have to make sure my staff isn't getting overrun by ER patients, but I'll be back to check on Dick in a couple of hours. In the meantime, I don't expect him to wake up from the anesthesia any time soon but if he does or if he shows signs of discomfort or agitation, page me. You know the number."

Bruce nodded and as Leslie departed, he pushed open the door to Dick's room.

He didn't think he would ever get used to seeing Dick laid up in a hospital bed, deathly pale, bruised up, covered in bandages and hooked up to half a dozen devices.

Quickly striding to Dick's bedside, his practiced eye immediately picked up and catalogued all the cuts, scrapes and bruises before he'd even gotten close enough to touch. When his eyes fell on Dick's face, however, he swallowed hard.

Up close he could see the split lower lip and the bruised and swollen cheekbone, marks that were more likely caused by fists than a bicycle crash. The angry gash on his forehead was now covered with a heavy bandage, but it was the pallor of his skin coupled with the dark smudges under his eyes that got to Bruce most.

He looked so young.

With a sigh, Bruce pulled up a chair and sat down, noting that at least Dick didn't seem cold anymore; his lips and fingernails were no longer blue and though he was still far too pale, he no longer seemed translucent.

Mindful of the IV-line snaking from the hand that lay on top of the mountain of blankets, Bruce took Dick's thin fingers in his own hand and settled in to watch and wait. He would have to call Alfred to bring him up to speed and ask him to bring a spare suit for both himself and Robin, along with a few other personal items.

God, he'd come so close to losing Dick tonight. The Team had been instrumental in Dick's rescue. In fact, if he was honest with himself, Dick would not have survived if the team hadn't been there. He would've drowned, plain and simple. It was a hard realization to swallow, that other people – teenagers – had been more capable of taking care of his son than he had.

He recalled the gentleness with which they'd handled Robin, the worry on their faces, the solemn determination in their actions – they obviously cared a great deal about Robin. Bruce had to admit he was surprised they'd already forged such powerful bonds in the few short months they'd been together as a team. It had taken him and his fellow Leaguers years to feel relatively comfortable around each other and even now they weren't exactly…friends.

Speaking of friends, he remembered Kid Flash – Wally – who was probably still waiting outside the treatment room for news on Dick. He felt guilty about leaving the kid sitting there but he couldn't exactly leave the room to go get him now.

Without letting go of Dick's hand, he reached for the phone that lay beside Dick's mask on the bedside cabinet and began to dial Wayne Manor's secure line. He would have to ask Alfred for another favor.

oOo

Batman waited impatiently outside Robin's room at the clinic. The Team was currently visiting his partner, their teammate. They'd really only been inside for about twenty minutes but Batman was still reluctant to leave Robin's bedside.

It had been two days since Robin's kidnapping and subsequent rescue, and the boy's condition had steadily improved. His head injury turned out to be a moderately severe concussion, which meant he was still a little out of it at times and suffered from headaches and blurry vision.

His other injuries, however, were well on their way to healing and it looked like Batman would be able to take Robin home for further recovery tonight.

Muffled laughter sounded from the other side of the door and Batman checked his watch irritably. He would give them five more minutes. Robin still tired quickly and he didn't want them to wear him out too much.

Two minutes later though, the Team was already filing out.

"-take it easy, dude," Kid Flash was saying as he backed out of the room and closed the door behind him.

The teens paused when they saw Batman standing there, smiles dropping from their faces. Batman regarded them for a moment.

"You disobeyed my orders to remain at Mount Justice," he began sternly. "You will not do so again."

The Team looked at each other in disbelief, and both Artemis and Kid Flash looked like they were about to protest, but Aqualad once again managed to silence them with a look.

"However," Batman continued, "I am aware that if you had obeyed my orders this time, Robin would not be alive today. I am- grateful you were there to assist."

"You're- what?" Kid Flash said, his eyes wide. "Wait, was that a thank you? Holy-" Artemis elbowed him in the ribs. "-I mean, uh…you're welcome?"

Aqualad frowned at the other teen, who gave him a sheepish smile, before turning to Batman.

"Robin may be your partner, Batman," he said, "but he is also our teammate and, more importantly, our friend. We look after our own, and if Robin is in trouble we will come for him regardless of the circumstances."

"Even if you don't want us to," Kid Flash added firmly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Batman stared at them, feeling slightly chastised but also strangely proud. Finally, he inclined his head a little.

"Noted."

oOo

Batman soundlessly pushed open the door to Robin's room and found the boy asleep, his mask firmly in place. His friends had just left and as Batman had feared, the brief visit must have worn Robin out.

As he pulled up a chair and pushed back his cowl, however, Robin opened his eyes and smiled, reaching up with his uninjured hand to take off his mask. "Hi."

"Hey, kiddo, I thought you were asleep," Bruce said with a smile of his own. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay."

Dick looked pale and tired, but also in better spirits than before. The thin lines of pain around his eyes and the small crease between his brows that had been there since he'd woken up two days ago didn't seem quite as prominent now. Perhaps the Team's visit had done him good after all. Bruce sometimes forgot how much of a people person Dick was.

"Are you in any pain?"

Dick shrugged stiffly. "A little. The drugs help a lot."

"You look like you could use some more sleep though."

"I am tired," Dick admitted, "but I've been sleeping so much I'm starting to feel like a zombie. I kinda want to spend a little more time in the land of the living."

Bruce chuckled. "Okay."

"Hey Bruce? What- what happened to that Linford guy? Do you know who he is?"

Bruce squashed the anger that surged at the mention of the guy who had landed Dick in the hospital. "According to Commissioner Gordon his name is Lucas Linford Fairchild, but I haven't had a chance to investigate him yet. Your teammates took care of him; he and his men are in police custody."

"Okay. I think the whole point of him kidnapping me was that he wanted me to hack something for him, but I was so out of it that I couldn't even type. I don't remember much, but I do remember he totally blew up at some of his minions for laying into me."

"Clearly, his men are idiots. I'll start looking into Fairchild after Alfred and I get you home tonight."

Dick's face lit up. "I get to go home tonight?"

"Provided you get some more sleep."

"I will in a little while, I promise," Dick replied.

"I'll hold you to that."

"Okay," Dick said around a yawn. "Hey Bruce?"

"Yes, kiddo?"

"Did you call me Dickie in front of Wally?"

Bruce started. He had completely forgotten about that. "Uh…"

Dick's eyes widened. "You didn't!"

"I…may have."

"Bruuuuuuuce! You promised you wouldn't call me Dickie anymore! I'm thirteen, not five!"

"I'm sorry, Dick, it was the heat of the moment."

Dick groaned and palmed his face dramatically with his good hand. "Wally's never going to let me live that down!"

Bruce fought to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching.

- End -