A/N: After their last argument, Bruce sent Dick to Bludhaven to investigate several murders where bodies have ended up in Gotham. Nightwing has had a busy time and the investigation continues to be hampered from other events. In the process of his investigation, Nightwing discovers someone is running guns into Gotham, guns with armor piercing bullets. Rumors are flying that Blockbuster, local kingpin of the underworld, is somehow involved. In the process of trying to stop them, he crosses into Gotham and meets up with his old mentor.

Dick is 19 and has been Nightwing for two years. Tim is 14 and has only been Robin for six months. He lives with his parents part of the time and living with Bruce when his parents are out of town.

Territory

By

AJ

Part 1

Stopping a dozen men wasn't easy. Despite the fact that Batman was there to assist, Nightwing felt like he had somehow violated an unspoken code. He should have stopped the men before they crossed the river, but they had at least a couple of hours head start, and by the time he relocated the van, the seven men from Bludhaven running guns and ammunition had already met up with their contacts in Gotham City. Why did it take so many? What were they toting? They were able to catch them by surprise and between the two Nightwing and Batman were able to apprehend all twelve men without anyone firing a shot. Once the men were tied up, the old argument loomed.

'Thanks for the assist," Nightwing stated even though his back was toward his mentor. "Though I could have handled them myself."

"Why are you here?" Batman asked. "I sent you on a mission."

"Seven of those men are part of my mission," Nightwing argued. "I'll be heading back to Bludhaven with them. You can keep the other five."

"It's been six weeks. You hadn't reported in," Batman stated.

"Checking up on me? There's nothing to report," Nightwing argued. "I've been a little busy. Finding who was responsible takes time. They haven't left a lot of clues to follow," Nightwing stated, remembering how Batman just weeks before rejected his help at every turn, saying he was reckless and unprepared. Those memories were still strong as they flashed across Nightwing's mind.

"I didn't ask for your help," Batman growled.

"Then let me know what's going on. You used to remember?"

"This isn't up for debate. You cost me an informant. You intruded on an investigation I'd been working on for days."

"Intruded, the man was going to shoot you in the back!" Nightwing argued.

"I had it covered. Go home!"

Nightwing ignored the last statement. "That's not what it looked like to me. I'll leave you to YOUR city. You could have at least thanked me for the help, but you've made it perfectly clear, you don't want any. Is that why you sent Tim away for three months? It's obvious you don't want me as a partner any more, but Tim, he's Robin. Didn't his words sink in six months ago?"

Nightwing could see that his words had stung his former mentor, but Batman held his anger.

"I don't have to explain anything to you, Nightwing. GO HOME!"

"I would if I had one, you threw me out remember . . ." Nightwing jabbed back. All the memories good and bad came flooding back to him. He remembered trying to establish a home for himself in Metropolis, but that was short lived. He went to New York but that also did not last. He returned when he heard about the new Robin, Jason Todd and tried to reconcile with Bruce. That didn't last either once he started to get to know Jason and realized just how troubled he was, and when Jason was killed, he tried to help Bruce through the pain, but once again he found himself out in the cold. Going home to Haley's Circus Nightwing thought he could pick up the pieces of his life, but learned instead that he couldn't fully return home. He didn't belong there either. It was there that he met Tim and it was Tim who told him about Bruce being out of control since Dick left. Worry drove him back to Gotham City once more. After Two-Face tried to kill them and Tim lectured Batman on why Robin had to live, Nightwing tried to let the old arguments rest, returning to the Manor to help Tim with his training, but returning to the Manor meant having to live under Bruce's rules, and once again their relationship was strained.

Soon after, Batman sent Nightwing . . . ordered him actually, like some disobedient child, to go to Bludhaven to solve a murder case, a murder case that had yet to be solved. Nightwing suspected that if he didn't get results soon, Batman would start to check up on him, making him feel like he was inadequate to the task. Now they were standing on top of a parking garage over a dozen men they had brought down together, and still Batman was treating him like a child, this time questioning his presence.

"I . . . didn't want to . . . come here," Nightwing stated with gritted teeth; trying to hide the rejection he continued to feel since the last time they fought. "I had no choice. They crossed the river and . . .intruded."

Nightwing's words suddenly cut the part that was Bruce. 'Gotham was . . . is still your home,' Batman thought as he realized his words had affected his son very deeply. Strong words from a certain butler rang in his ears. Back pedaling, Batman tried to make amends. "There is no intrusion."

"You could have fooled me," Nightwing said sarcastically despite Batman's statement bringing a surprised look on Nightwing's face. I . . . I didn't think . . . you'd . . ."

". . . Come to the cave, we'll talk later."

Nightwing's heart skipped a beat. What was going on? Batman had been so cold lately, but now . . . They hadn't talked in weeks, and when they would it always seemed to end in an argument. Something had changed.

"We better wrap this up before the authorities get here," Nightwing stated. "The last time I was here . . . I nearly got shot by Bullock."

"I'll set the Detective straight," Batman said.

Once again, Nightwing was taken aback. Something had happened to Batman, but Nighwing wasn't about to figure it out at that moment. They had a dozen thugs, some from Bludhaven mixing in with Gotham's worse to sort out.

"I should take these seven back to Bludhaven since they're from my territory . . ."

"Let the police work it out," Batman stated. "There are more important things that need discussing."

"All right . . . What did you do with Batman?"

Batman gave Nightwing a momentary glare to reassure the young man that no one had taken control of his mind or that he wasn't some imposter. "Let's just say our mutual friend Agent A can be rather persuasive in reminding me what's important."

'So, Alfred got to him. Maybe it is time that we talk,' Nightwing thought. "We've got a job to finish here, first.0"

"You're right," Batman acknowledged.

As they were about to figure out what to do with the dozen or so men . . . handing them over to the Gotham PD preferably, Nightwing realized he needed one more piece of information in order to wrap up the case he had been working on in Bludhaven.

'I've got to get information that Blockbuster is behind those murders,' Nightwing thought. 'Detective Soames was the one who hinted at it. That was the reason why Bruce sent me to Bludhaven in the first place."

Nightwing walked over to one of the men he recognized from the case files he secretly examined. The man was suspected of being one of Blockbuster's dealers, but no one could link him to Bludhaven's notorious mob boss.

"All right Jacob Billings, I see that dealing drugs wasn't enough for you. Moving up in the underworld? Spill . . ." Nightwing pulled Billings near the edge of the roof of the six-story parking garage, hoping to put a little scare into the drug dealer turned gunrunner. "Whom are you working for?"

"I'll never tell."

'My arm's going to get really tired, Jacob" Nightwing stated. ""Don't know how much longer it can hold out. Falling's not bad, it's landing that's the killer."

"You . . . you can't get me to talk," Billings stated though his voice started to waver. "Ahhhhh."

Nightwing let the rope slip just a little. "You know, my hands are getting really tired. And you can get down, either the safe way or . . ." Nightwing let the rope slip a little more. "The fast way."

"All right . . . I'll talk . . . Just pull me up!"

Batman watched his son work, marveling that after all this time the methods that he would often use were being used by his former Robin. He had to admit, though Nightwing did appear to be reckless at times, he did have style. Then something caught his eye, a glint of moonlight on metal.

"Nightwing, look out!"

The first shot hit Nightwing near the center of his chest and spun him around while a second shot fired immediately after hit Billings in the head. Jacob Billings was dead before he hit the ground, while Nightwing was suddenly being dragged over the edge of the roof from Billing's weight. Batman sprang into action, grabbing a hold of his fallen son and former partner before he fell completely over the edge of the parking garage's roof. He pulled him back to safety then carried Nightwing behind the protective screen of a nearby stairwell. There wasn't much cover as the bullets continued to fly.

"Nightwing! Nightwing!" Batman shouted, sounding frantic. 'I've got to get him back to the cave. 'That wound looks bad. Why isn't he wearing armor?' As Batman tried to staunch the wound in Nightwing's chest, he realized that Nightwing was wearing armor. The bullet had pierced through the Kevlar like it was butter. Not only that, there was no exit wound and Batman feared that the bullet could be close to Nightwing's heart. The bullet might have pierced a lung. Without examining him, Batman feared that Nightwing . . . 'No, I can't think that way. I need to get him back to the cave, now.'

Despite the critical injury, Nightwing continued to talk, admonishing himself for whatever wrong he felt that he committed. "Should . . . have stopped . . . them before . . . they reached . . ." Nightwing's words went down into a whisper that was barely audible. *Cough * Cough * "Territory . . . Stupid . . . Should . . . not have . . . crossed . . ."

"Stay with me, Nightwing," Batman coaxed, but he soon realized that Nightwing had passed out and that he was rapidly loosing blood. 'Don't bleed out . . . don't die on me, dammit!'

Batman pressed a cloth to Nightwing's wound, packing it to keep it from bleeding further. Lifting NIghtwing into his arms, he raced across the open area of the garage to the opposite side and dove. There was nothing he could do for the men that were tied up. They were sitting ducks, but Nightwing needed him more. Shots continued to ping past him. Whoever the assailant was that person didn't want them getting off the roof alive. He sent out a grapple to break his fall and landed right next to the batmobile. With a click of a button, he opened the vehicle and placed Nightwing in the passenger seat. Once inside the vehicle, he contacted the bat cave.

"Alfred, prepare for surgery," Batman stated.

"Are you hurt sir?" There was a hint of deep concern in his voice.

"No, it's . . . Nightwing. He's been . . . shot," Batman stated, his voice trembling. Overwhelming fear threatened to swallow him whole. It was too much like when his parents had been shot and killed. He kept seeing that image in his mind mixed with Nightwing's image of falling . . .

"Nightwing, Sir?" Alfred was surprised at that revelation. "I thought he was in Bludhaven."

"I'll explain when I get back to the cave. He's going to need blood as well as your ministrations Alfred. Please . . . I."

"I understand Sir," Alfred replied, interrupting his charge. 'I shall do what I can."

Batman willed the car to go faster. Time was a commodity they could not waste. 'Why did my ancestors have to build a house outside of Gotham?' Batman groused. 'I've got to make it . . .' His heart demanded but his thoughts were saying, 'It's too far.'

Batman pulled into the bat cave. He jumped from the driver's side and nearly ripped the hinges off the passenger side as he rushed to pull Nightwing from the car. He raced with his burden to the medical bay and laid him on the exam table. He turned to look at the old butler, pleading to help his . . . former partner . . . and son when he noticed the butler's ashen face.

"Pull it together Alfred," Batman stated. "He needs you."

Batman turned away, trying to hide the anguish he was feeling. He didn't know whether to go back out and search for the shooter, but at the same time, knew that the shooter would be long gone. Ripping off his cowl, he opted to stay, watching in the background, hoping beyond hope that Dick . . . his son . . . would not die, that he made it in time.

Alfred turned back to his patient, aware that Bruce at this moment was in deep anguish and worry for his son. Though it wasn't official yet, ever since the boy had entered this house, no . . . ever since Bruce carried the boy from the Center, Dick Grayson became his son. And right now the look on that father's face was one that Alfred recognized all too well. 'It was that very same anguish he faced when his parents died, even the night that Jason died. We are lucky that Tim is not here to see this. No. Master Grayson shall not die . . . not on my watch.'

Alfred swallowed the lump in his throat and put on a stony expression that rivaled Batman's. He immediately got to work, cutting off the Kevlar shirt with a special scissors that Batman had developed. He attached an IV to make certain that his patient received blood and other fluids before removing the bullet. With Nightwing unconscious, it was a blessing in disguise. He didn't need the painkillers. He would once the bullet was removed. Prepping for surgery would not take long. He had practice over the years, even secretly tested for his surgeon's license in the U.K. Not all of his trips home were family related. Alfred moved the portable X-Ray machine in place and slipping in a cartridge of film, he snapped the picture. This particular machine wasn't on the market. It was completely digital even though it still used a film cartridge. That was backup, just in case the digital file was lost. Alfred opened the digital file of Nightwing's chest to see that the bullet was lodged against the breastplate near the third rib right over the heart.

'A centimeter higher or lower and to the left, and we would be burying the very first Robin,' Alfred thought. 'I must be cautious.'

The bullet came close, very close. It was nearly touching the soft tissue and with every beat of Dick's heart, Alfred feared the bullet would pierce it all together if he didn't act quickly. Not only that, Alfred observed just how close Dick had come to loosing his life. The breastplate and third rib barely stopped the bullet. The Kevlar at least slowed the bullet's progress, but it should have stopped it all together. What kind of bullet was this to have pierced the young man's uniform and flesh? The young man was lucky to say the least. It was a miracle. It was also a tricky operation. Very few could accomplish such a feat. Only one other surgeon could do it. He wasn't available, and to contact him at this stage would cause questions he and Bruce were not prepared to answer. Dr. Thomas Elliot, Bruce's childhood friend, had saved Bruce from a crippling, even life-threatening injury two years ago. They covered up that injury with Dick's help, and Elliot was called in. This time, it was up to Alfred.

Silence prevailed in the cave, making it feel like an underground tomb. The only sound that could be heard was the faint squeaking of the bats high up in the cervices and stalactites. Alfred was also very much aware of Bruce's pacing. He had dealt with his charge's fearful nervousness before. When Alfred pulled out the bullet and dropped it on the tray, it was with welcome relief. Even he did not realize he was holding his breath as he extracted the foreign object that abused the young man's body. He was applying the last of the stitches when Bruce approached.

"He is going to need a lot of rest and rehabilitation," Alfred said. "That . . . that bullet came close to piercing his heart."

"It's an armor piercing bullet." Bruce said his voice becoming hard as steel cable, letting Batman enter his world.

"Armor piercing bullets? You have to inform Commissioner Gordon on this new development. If the criminals get a hold of those things . . ."

"I'm aware of it Alfred."

"How did . . . Nightwing get shot?" Alfred asked.

"Sniper, neither one of us saw." Bruce stated. "I . . . should have . . ."

" . . . Master Bruce . . ." Alfred commanded sharply drawing Bruce's attention. "It is not your fault, but the arguments you have been having with your son must cease. He nearly died tonight."

Bruce had to concede that Alfred was right. The arguments had gotten out of hand and if Dick had died . . . There would have been no way for them to reconcile. Bruce had to admit that Nightwing had been treating their latest argument as a rejection, and Batman could sense that.

The faint sound of a respirator machine caught Bruce's attention. His heart sank to his stomach when he moved back to the medical bay and found his eldest son hooked up to the machine, aiding the young man's breathing.

"How . . . What?" His tongue was thick in his mouth, preventing the words from escaping.

"Master Richard will be fine, but there was damage to his breastplate from the bullet. Breathing would be difficult, so I took the liberty of hooking him up to a respirator. I have placed him in an induced coma so he will be able to heal."

An induced coma . . . breastplate damaged . . . The words barely registered. "When will he be out of danger?" Bruce asked.

"You know that is up to him, Master Bruce."

'I should go after the person who did this,' Bruce thought, 'But . . . how can I leave my son in such danger.'

"Master Bruce, it will be several hours before Master Richard will come to. Perhaps there is something you can do."

'He knows I need to be out there,' Bruce thought. "Of course Alfred. Inform me once he is awake."

"I shall immediately," Alfred stated. 'He is no good here. Master Richard will not be able to tell him who shot him until he is awake. Though I would prefer he stay, Master Bruce may do some good being out there, searching for the person who did this.'

Alfred watched as Bruce put on the cowl one more time and climbed into the batmobile and headed once more to Gotham City.

'Good hunting, Sir,' Alfred thought. "I hope you find the person responsible.'

Continues with Part 2