Bruce spent years training to control himself, every single part of himself, his thoughts, his body, his heart. He'd learned to control how fast it beat, and up until a few moments ago, he'd almost never failed. Until that moment.

Until that moment when he'd seen the blast and the only thing he'd been able to think was "Dick!" Even now, half way to Bludhaven he couldn't convince his heart to slow down, it was pounding so fast he felt sick. If Dick died because Jason had kept him from getting there, but he couldn't finish that thought. He was shaking too hard as it was, if it got any worse he'd probably drive off the road.

"No," he snarled, clenching his teeth. He was the Batman, nothing ever stopped him from doing his job. There would be no driving the Batmobile off the road. He would get his emotions under control or he wouldn't be able to help the boy at all.

Yes, in his head, Dick was still a boy. Bruce didn't spend a lot of time in his head, thinking about Dick, it was too much of an emotional minefield that he wanted to avoid that but somehow, without meaning to he was already right in the middle of it and there he was, calling Dick "boy".

His hand's clenched around the wheel. He couldn't push the gas pedal harder without pushing his foot through the floor. It was reckless, it was dangerous, he wasn't paying attention to the curves and twists in the road and heaven help anyone rodent or absent minded pedestrian who strayed into into his path.

Dick would be doing something incredibly stupid right now, Bruce knew it. Maybe that was his own fault.

No, there was no maybe. He had taken a child who was smart and kind and brave and had striped him down into a weapon, more concerned about his mission than his own life. When Dick died, it would be Bruce's fault.

Could he survive burying another son?

Could he survive burying Dick?

"Focus Bruce," he muttered to himself when he realized that he was almost in Bludhaven and hadn't noticed. God, he was loosing time now. How was he ever going to find Dick like this? He needed to get himself under control right now or the boy was going to die.

There was someone in the road. He slammed on the breaks as hard as he could. It was a young woman, she looked at him with terror written all over her face. She was carrying a backpack and crying. She was fleeing the city, Bruce realized. Once she was out of the way he stamped on the gas petal again, but he'd only gone a few hundred yards before he had to stop for a family, complete with a dog running down the road and a hundred yards after that there was a group of men, barely older than Dick. He was never going to get into the city like this. Not even close.

"Alfred," he asked. "Where's the nearest base from here? I need a motorcycle."

"Master Richard has one about ten miles east of your current location. I believe he has it secured for himself only, but I assume you could bypass his security."

"Yes," Bruce agreed as he forced the car off the road and through what was once a nice, white picket fence.

"Do you have Master Richard with you Master Bruce?" Alfred asked anxiously.

"No Alfred," Bruce answered. "I'm looking for him now but I can't get into the city in the Batmobile. It's taking too long. At this rate Dick'll get himself killed before I'm even in get in the city limits." The moment the words were out of his mouth, he regretted it. If Alfred was worrying himself sick, casually throwing in his fears was hardly going to help. "Have you been able to reach him?"

"No," Alfred said. "I can't get in touch with him on any frequency you have ever used. All I get is static."

"That's not surprising," Bruce said as reassuringly as he could. "With radiation levels like that, communication will be practically impossible. That means you probably won't hear from me either, once I get in the city but I'll let you know as soon as I find him."

"Please do," Alfred agreed. Bruce could hear Alfred's tone, and it twisted his guts.

The base was well hidden of course, as he'd expect from Dick, in an old industrial complex just outside the city. It was dilapidated, vandalized and barely structurally sound, but even so the parking lot was full of refugees, streaming out the city, some of them in cars but most people on foot. They were going to make it very difficult to get into Dick's base.

Knowing Dick, he would have hid his equipment high up, so he could enter through a skylight or a window, not stairs like a normal person. That might have been subtle for someone on foot, or even on a bike, but he was in a car crossed with a tank. There was no way to sneak around.

Despite the crowds he got the car in very close to the building and was out of it and onto the roof before the anyone could stop him. Some of them shouted at him, calling out to him, speaking his name like he was a god coming to save them, but he wasn't. All he was that night was a father who had completely failed his son.

He did have to hack his way around Dick's security, every second of it was basically torture but he managed at last, despite his hands shaking so much he almost missed a few keys. He didn't even look around once he was in, just went straight to the bike, which Dick had lovingly displayed in the middle of the space. Bruce wasn't sure how Dick was getting out, but there was a boarded up window at one end of the large room. Dick might be pissed off at him later, but only if he was alive to see it so Bruce planted a charge, set it with a ten second delay and took off through the plywood.

It was a two story drop but the second he hit the ground Bruce was too focused to worry any more.

The city was smoking, it smelled of burning rubber and toxic fumes and meat, there wasn't more than a block in a row that didn't have rubble in it. The further into the city he got the few people he passed, the smaller the crowds became and the higher the stacks of bodies got. He would never find Dick in all of them.

Nightwing would have gone to the police station, Bruce assumed. He still had friends there, friends who would be in danger. Downtown, near the main blast. The radiation alone would probably kill a healthy person, although presumably Dick would have anti-radiation meds with him and an air filter so he could still be alive.

"Batman," someone said quietly.

"Damnit Clark," he snarled, breaking the bike so hard if he'd been any less practised he'd have flipped off. "What do you want?"

Superman was standing next to him and he looked beat. It wasn't often that Kal-El looked sick and tired, and although it did give Bruce a sliver of cruel satisfaction, it worried him much more.

"You're the second person I've ordered out of the city today Bruce," he said, taking a few steps closer so that no one in the dead street could hear him. As far as Bruce could see, there was nothing alive for blocks and blocks but if Superman was going to use his name, he wasn't going to complain.

"You've seen Dick," Bruce demanded. "Where? Where is he?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I told him to stay out of here, I told him it'd kill him to go back into the city, but I don't think he listened."

"Obviously not," Bruce hissed at him. "Where did you see him last?"

"The radiation can kill you too Bruce," Clark pointed out. "Get out of the city."

"I'm not leaving without him Superman," Bruce growled. "Either point me in the right direction or get out of the way. Where is my son?"

"When I saw him last he was jumping off police head quarters about an hour ago. I left him there. Good luck, Bruce. Once I finish with the city, I'll join you."

"Fine," Bruce answered.

"Take care," Superman said to him quietly as Bruce sped away.

An hour ago, Dick had been alive. The radiation still could have killed him, but he had been alive less than an hour ago. Bruce pulled on a mask. The toxic smell of the city had settled in his stomach like a poison. Or maybe it was worry, he didn't know. Either way, he couldn't risk vomiting, he didn't have the time.

Once when Dick was very young they'd been out chasing down some human traffickers, who happened to have a rocket launcher with them. The Batmobile was damaged. Bruce had hidden it in one of his safe houses, but by then it was almost five in the morning and Dick could barely hold his head up. He'd looked so young, in his yellow cape and those ridiculous boots with his eyes half shut and his head leaned back against a wall as he tried so hard to stay awake. If he'd been alone, Bruce would just have made whatever repairs he could but seeing his boy like that, he couldn't. He'd picked Dick up and set him on the front of the motorcycle. When the boy started shivering, Bruce pressed him up against his chest, miraculously keeping the bike upright as he tucked the ten year old in with one arm.

He swerved to avoid a car that was forcing it's way through the debris.

"Batman!" someone was screaming. "Batman!"

He spun the bike around without really wanting to but Clark was too far away to help those people. It was a red headed woman who was shouting at him as she ran towards him, holding something over her mouth. "Batman," she rasped. "Nightwing's gone after Westbrooke but I'm worried. I don't think he can keep going like this. Please, he saved my family."

"Where?" Bruce asked.

"Do you know the Lakeview apartment tower?" Bruce nodded.

"Get your family to safety," he ordered.

He could see the tower from where he was, it was no more than fifteen blocks. He was almost there. He would save his son and "he's alive," he snarled at the voice in the back of his head that whispered Dick might already be dead. "He's alive."

Bruce could see the parking lot for the tower, he was almost there, he almost let himself hope. He would get there in time, Dick would be alive, sick of course, probably too sick to object if Bruce forced him to come back to the Batcave, back to Alfred, back home for a few days. They needed to talk. The boy had been reckless lately. He'd always been driven but never suicidal before now. That business with Blockbuster must had messed with his head more than Bruce had realized. He would set Dick straight, and things would get better. By the time Dick was on his feet again they would have sorted a few things out.

And then an explosion ripped through the tower.

Bruce didn't hear himself screaming, but he could feel it.