A/N: I really wanted to post this as one long story, but Doc Manager wouldn't let me for some reason, so it's all split up into chapters. Warnings: molestation and swearing.

"Batman, I-I can't… It's too… too..."

He closed his eyes.

"Robin, don't fall asleep-"

"..-gave you too much-"

"…- not wake up-"

"-Robin!"

/

"-don't you dare fucking touch him"

Whoever lifted him didn't seem to care about the growled threat. He was thrown over what felt like a shoulder, digging into his abdomen. There's someone grumbling indistinctly nearby, and he thought he recognised the deep baritone, but he was being jostled about too much and the nausea in his stomach was starting to overwhelm him.

His mouth opened and he vomited down the back of whoever was carrying him.

"Oh my god!"

Someone chuckled darkly. "That's my boy.."

It was a long fall down. He hit the ground with a loud thump, drowsily crying out when something in his chest echoed with a crack, the edges of the pain numbed down but still painful enough to hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut.

/

"-the infamous Robin?"

"Leave him out of this-"

"Or what? What could you possibly do?"

"This"

There's a rattling of chains and then a pained gasp. He faintly heard a slap, followed by multiple thuds and restrained grunts, sounding like they were pulled unwillingly through clenched teeth. The thuds stopped after a while, only heaving gasps filling the silent, empty air.

Someone snarled. "Not so talkative now, Bats, hm?"

A heavy, metal door clanged shut and the world went quiet.

/

He was tied up. Feeling light-headed, he took a deep breath to calm his suddenly racing heart – at least, he tried to, but something in his chest grinded against something it shouldn't have. He quickly released the air in his lungs, wincing as his ribs shifted. Cracked ribs then – great.

He took in more of his surroundings without raising his head, hoping that there was no one in the room with him. If there was, hopefully they hadn't heard his little gasp. Yeah, Dick was in a hoping mood.

He was sitting on the cold concrete floor, his back pressed against a thick pipe that was coated in rust, feeling the decaying iron drifting onto him in large flakes every time he shifted. His identity hadn't been revealed yet, thankfully, but his domino mask was beginning to get itchy around the edges. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he had passed out, but the spirit gum holding on his mask was beginning to irritate his skin, and he knew, from experience, that it was going to be a pain in the ass to take off.

He needed to get out of here. He stretched his fingers up over his palm to feel around his wrists, only to find that his hands were entrapped in an ordinary set of handcuffs. He huffed, slightly insulted – only handcuffs? Still, he'd take a stupid villain over a smart one any time. He turned his hands around, preparing to dislocate his thumbs; which, while painful and annoying, seemed to be his best and easiest option. Only, when he tried to jerk his thumbs, just like Bruce had taught him to, he found them carefully duct taped to his palm. Dick smiled bitterly and thought, begrudgingly – okay, it's a smart villain then.

Different tactic. Behind his back, he twisted his wrists subtly and slowly, grasping onto his belt. He twisted it around, counting the pockets until he reached the one he needed.

Catching movement in the corner of his eye, Batman snapped his head up and watched Dick's turning belt, realising what he was doing, and caught sight of a faint smirk on his son's downturned face. However, the young boy's good mood rapidly dissipated when he stretched to retrieve the lock pick set inside the pocket - the same lock set that, conveniently, wasn't there.

"He went through my belt?" Dick burst out unthinkingly, disbelief and indignation colouring his voice.

"Robin? Are you okay?" Batman interrupted, pressing, "Are you hurt?"

Lifting his head for the first time, the boy turned his attention to the man opposite him and started. Batman was pulled straight and tall; not quite on his tiptoes, but enough that Dick had to tilt his head to look him in the face. He's cuffed with an identical pair of restraints, the middle of cuffs caught in a carabiner held in the air by heavy, metal chains that hung from the ceiling. He tried to follow the chains and looked upwards, but the ceiling was so high that the light didn't even reach the top of the room.

The caped vigilante still had his cowl on, but Dick could still see the swelling around his eye, the blood trailing from his split lip down his chin and the bruise that was beginning to darken the underside of his jaw. The man was tense, favouring his left side slightly and Dick thought he saw a wretch lying a few feet away. Dick vaguely remembered faint thuds and pained grunts echoing in his head.

"What the hell..." Dick breathed softly, his breath catching as he took it all in. By the reassuring quirk of the lips that Batman gave him, he assumed that he had been heard. He shook himself, remembering his mentor's question, and reporting dutifully, "I- I'm fine, I guess. My head's slightly fuzzy," he paused, pain spiking in his chest, as if to remind him, and he gasped out, adding, "-my ribs too"

Batman hummed, eyes narrowing. Trying to keep the boy's mind off the pain, he questioned, "What do you remember?"

"I- I remember…" Dick trailed off, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. Then he asked hesitantly, almost disbelievingly, "Did I puke on someone?"

Batman let out an uncharacteristic snort. "Yeah, kid, you did," he smirked, commenting, "As far as evasion tactics go, it was pretty effective actually"

The mask didn't quite cover the blush that spread across the boy's cheeks as his mentor teased him.

"Whoever did this must have been watching me for a while - whatever drug they used kept me down for just as long as they needed it to," Batman mused after a moment, filling the boy in, "But you haven't been out in the field in a while…"

Robin picked up where Batman had trailed off, working it out as he went along, "-so they didn't have any clue when the time came, and just dosed me with whatever was left, which was-"

"- far too much," Batman finished with a nod.

"Far too much," Dick agreed, with a sigh that sounded resigned. It had been exam week in school last week and Bruce hadn't let him out on patrol, saying he should revise instead. He was also smaller than most people his age, which probably didn't help matters. He had difficulty gaining weight, something he knew that both Leslie and Alfred hated it. Fatty foods and calories flowed through his body like water; in and out with no pit stops.

Dick raised his head. "But I heard you speak, shouldn't have you have been knocked out too?"

Batman saw his confusion and explained. "It was a paralytic drug – I could speak, but not move"

"Oh"

"You muttered a lot," Batman added, "Not fully awake… like you were floating"

Dick hummed in confirmation. That's what it had felt like. He pulled at his restraints and glanced at the door, "So, a John or a Jane?"

Batman looked up, checking out the cuffs, then followed his gaze to the door. "A John"

"Who's our John Doe then? You know him?"

Batman grunted, sounding slightly embarrassed. "He's a very… recent acquaintance"

Dick translated for him. Of course, Batman would be embarrassed by being caught by a new villain and wouldn't admit it. "So, you saying you know him then?"

"...Not quite, no"

"Well, that's just great," Dick muttered to himself. It was meant to come out sarcastic and overenthusiastic, but instead, embarrassingly, it came out as sounding young and scared. He stared at his knees, stretched out in front of him. If they had no clue who the guy was, then they didn't know his motive, or his tactics of getting information from unwilling participants.

He slowly looked up at Batman when the man purposely rattled his chains to get his attention. Bruce caught his son's eyes and breathed, earnestly, "Dick, we'll be okay"

Dick's eyes widened. "B-"

Batman shook his head. "No one is listening, don't worry," he explained, "If there was, they would have come in as soon as they knew you were awake. And, by the look of the place, there doesn't seem to be much money to spare for surveillance or that sort of thing…"

Dick snorted, rolling his eyes. "You're such a rich bitch. Do you always judge the interior design of each place you're kidnapped in?"

Batman smirked and clicked his tongue sarcastically. "Gotta see what colour schemes work and which don't, don't I?"

Dick found himself chuckling, despite his ribs. And the Justice League thought the Bat didn't have a sense of humour – they obviously hadn't spent a long time around the man. But, settling down and looking around, he had to agree with Batman that the place looked a little worse for wear.

It was quite a small room, all things considered, and Dick was only about four feet away from Bruce, who was the centrepiece of the room. The walls were caked in peeling white plaster with suspicious stains - the boy tried not to think too much about their origin – and a labyrinth of old pipes lined the walls, occasionally creaking and groaning in a strained effort to complete their task. A large oak desk was shoved against the wall to Dick's right, near to the large, metal, double doors.

The rattling of chains drew his attention back to Bruce once again. The cowl was faced upwards, his eyes following the chain up to the ceiling. He peered down and caught Dick's eyes, grumbling, "Keep an eye on the door for me. Call if you hear footsteps"

Dick nodded jerkily. Bruce stared at him, searching for something on his son's face, before he nodded and returned his gaze upwards once more. Pushing off the floor, he jumped and wrapped his hands tightly around the chain. Bruce exhaled - now for the difficult part. He definitely wasn't as young as he used to be, and the Batman suit was built with brute strength and power in mind, not speed or agility. As a result, it made the suit heavy and this situation particularly challenging.

Using his feet for momentum, Bruce swung forward before he surged upwards, grasping the chain firmly once more. With just his hands carrying him higher up the chains, it was slow progress, and he knew that Dick would have clambered up the chains in no time, without breaking a sweat - the little acrobatic squirt that he was.

Dick jumped as the door suddenly swung open with a loud clang. Shit, he had meant to be listening out for someone. Bruce had already made his way up half the chain by that point, and he had gotten distracted by watching his mentor shuffle his way upwards.

"What is-?" the man in the doorway began, before his eyes narrowed and he snapped his gaze skywards. He stormed forward, picking up the wrench, and began to swat at Batman with it, as if he were a bothersome fly, "Hey!"

The wrench clipped his armoured boot and Batman grunted in pain, but continued his ascent. If he could just reach the top-

"Get down here now or I'll snap this kid's leg"

Bruce froze and looked down. The man had Dick by the ankle, wrench held threateningly above his shin. The boy was sprawled awkwardly on his back, his hands still attached to the pipe behind him, straining on his shoulders, with one leg held aloft in the tight grip of their jailer. Dick's mouth was slightly agape and Bruce could hear his breath hitching, even from his elevated height. He didn't need the white lenses to be pushed up to be convinced of the fear on his son's face.

"Okay, okay," he pacified after a moment, his voice slightly hoarse as he locked eyes with his son, "I'm coming down now"

"No funny business, you hear? Birds may not need legs to fly, but your boy sure does"

Batman growled at the threat, but kept quiet, concentrating on shuffling down the chain. From this height, if he lost his grip and fell, he might as well say goodbye to his shoulders – double dislocations were no joke.

A few feet from the ground, he let himself drop, landing lightly on his feet. The man didn't let him catch his breath as he unceremoniously dropped Dick's ankle, swinging the wrench around. He drove the air of Bruce's lungs with a hit to the side of his torso. He jerked away as he grunted in pain.

"Batman!" Dick gasped out as he scrambled up and surged forward, straining against the cuffs.

"Stay out of it, Robin," Batman snapped, catching his breath and scowling at the boy. Dick quivered at his mentor's suddenly sharp glare.

The man stepped to the side from where he had his back to Robin. He glanced between them both. "Oh, no, no. I love a bit of audience participation," the man said, mockingly clapping his hands in glee.

Batman snarled. "Yeah? Well, I don't"

"So sharp," he said, and then turned to Dick, ignoring Bruce's warning growl, "Honestly, I don't know how you deal with the catty Batty all the time"

Dick didn't answer, but he let his lips quirk upwards. The man's voice was American but had an underlying twang of European that Dick couldn't specify from his limited experience with accents. He wasn't old, but he wasn't young, either. He had a full head of tangled, black hair, but strands at his temple were starting to turn a dull grey. His stubble was short, and seemed to emphasize the hollows of his cheeks. The man was tall; not gangly, but certainly not muscled either – he was more lithe. He wore a seemingly black suit, but it shone midnight blue at the right angle.

"Who are you?"

The man pushed his chest out, like preening bird. He answered Batman with a loud, booming voice, as if he were a ringmaster, "My name is Puck. Salem Puck"

His name is Puck, Dick thought, slightly hysterically, I always hated Shakespeare. Similarly, Batman was decidedly unimpressed. "What do you want?"

"Um, nothing, really"

Dick scoffed quietly to himself and, even from behind the cowl, Dick could tell Bruce was raising an eyebrow. "'Nothing'?"

"Yeah, nothing, Big B. You see the whole 'I'll kill you thing' is really not my thing, if you get what I mean? I'm more into-," the man clicked his fingers in the air a few times, as if trying to remember something that had slipped his mind. He turned to them, gesturing to them as if asking them to help him. Bruce and Dick just watched him flounder. "What do you call it?"

His whole playful demeanour shifted suddenly as he straightened up, a sickening smile spreading across his lips. "Ah, I remember now - power play"

Batman tensed so fast it almost looked like he flinched. He stood up straighter and eyed the man even more warily than before. Dick just blinked in confusion. What did that mean?

Puck answered the question on his lips. "It's not what you'd give me that I want – it's what I'd take from you, and you'd let me"

Batman shifted and lifted his head to stare unnervingly at Puck. "What could you possibly take from me? I will give you nothing"

Puck moved. Dick jumped as the man was suddenly in Batman's face, causing the vigilante to jolt back, jarred. Their kidnapper raised the wrench malevolently, pushing it under his chin until Bruce was forced to tilt his head. Puck whispered, nearly snarling, "What makes you think that you'll be the one doing the giving?"

He sneered, stepping back. Batman stayed silent but followed his every step with narrowed eyes - what was he playing at?

The man suddenly giggled – an ugly, twisted thing that made Dick wince and want to cover his ears. "Oh, the confusion in your eyes is so beautiful. You still don't understand, do you? But I can tell that you're trying to work it out – I can see that little machine of a mind whirring"

"To be truthful," he continued, twirling the tool in his hand, his body language and voice completely from what it had been a moment ago; back to being relaxing and easy. Dick was getting whiplash. "I don't really know what I want from you guys – I genuinely didn't think I would get this far…

"I'm slightly…. disappointed, if I'm to be honest with you…" he trailed off sadly. He carried on, throwing his arms out dramatically, "The big Bat and his little brat didn't seem to put up much of a fight, did they? I mean, here you are"

Here they are, indeed, Dick thought as he shifted uncomfortably. He could feel blood beginning to run down his hands from his split wrists, rubbed raw from the cuffs, and his shoulders were starting to ache and go numb from being pulled back for so long. His ribs were starting to hurt more, also, and his lower back didn't appreciate being sat in this position for so long. He was one big ball of hurt.

Dick turned his attention back to the occupants of the room when Puck sighed dejectedly. "Oh well," he suddenly perked up and both vigilantes tensed, "Anyway, Batsy, you asked me what I could take from you and, well, the most obvious thing is your identity"

Dick was betrayed by his body and froze, but Bruce carefully didn't react, staring back uninterestedly.

The man carried on. "I mean, I could just pull off your mask right now and see who you are, but that's me taking it. I want you to give your identity to me – willingly"

Batman swung around on the chains as the man started to circle him, the wrench still held loosely in his hand. "I would never"

"Well, obviously, dummy," Puck mocked. His easy tone juxtaposed with his actions as he slammed the wrench against the pipe above Dick's head. Dick bowed his head and gritted his teeth as the rough surface of the pipe vibrated against his aching wrists and a shower of rust fell down on him. "You don't hand your identity out to anyone and everyone do you? That's the whole point"

Bruce ignored the man and said nothing, training his eyes on his son's slumped form.

"You see, I want more than just your identity. I want you begging to give it to me"