A/N: So! Here is my Christmas gift to Haleykim based on one of her prompts/challenges as part of a gift exchange between her, myself and Black Friar! I must give a thank you to Black Friar for serving as a beta for this story :) Happy reading!

xxx

"Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I've ever known."
― Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters

xxx

There was a lingering moment during the night where Dick wandered into a rather elaborate dining hall, – one that looked more for show than for actual use – and caught sight of himself in the reflection of a shiny and expensive looking food tray lid. Its curved dome made his image look warped, which was not unlike the way he felt. He was Dick Grayson today, sure, but not really. Just a third, obligatory persona.

Still, Dick knew how to play them all well. He straightened his tie, fixed a stray lock of hair and ventured back into the party.

The Royal Hotel was a mesh of red, white and gold colors, reminding Dick at every turn that he was somewhere fancy. But as elegant as this hotel was, Dick found it a little anomalous to hold an award ceremony here of all places, even if it was to honor Wayne Medical's new scientific breakthrough. Then again, he supposed holding a party at, say, a hospital, would have been a little inappropriate.

Dick grinned at that.

Wayne Medical was a key player in keeping most of Gotham City's hospitals running and was well-known for its treatments rather than its research, but today was about a rather exciting innovation; a drug that could eventually be capable of allowing the human body to heal itself quicker of not only injuries, but of select ailments. All without (as far as Wayne Medical was aware of) the danger of risky side-effects. It was still worth further research, of course, but the idea itself was enough to grab the attention of people who cared for the well-being of Gotham's citizens.

Dick cared, too, but these parties practically sucked the life out of him. Thankfully, Wally's hair stood out like a flame and Dick floated to it like a moth. Even undercover, fitted into a nice suit and his hair gelled back, Wally was still Wally. Dick was slightly jealous that Wally was able to always be just one person, just be himself, no matter where he was or who he was with. But it was also that concrete sense of identity that gave Dick a great sense of comfort. It meant Wally would always know who Dick was, and would treat him as such. It meant that, even in a place like this, as long as he had Wally, Dick would be genuinely accepted.

For that, Wally was more of a best friend than he would ever realize.

xxOxx

Wally crinkled his nose. He could smell the gunk in his hair that kept it swept back, and he was pretty sure his suit was fitted wrong. There was tightness in the shoulders whenever he moved around too much. It was suffocating.

"Excuse me, sir," a proper voice floated into his ear and Wally swallowed a lump in his throat as he spun around to face it. He instantly melted at the sight of Dick standing there, a grin practically stretching across his entire face.

"Oh, thank God," the speedster sighed. "Finally, someone normal."

Dick chuckled, observing the bite-sized morsel in his hands, looking as though he wasn't even remotely hungry. "Don't act too chummy," he warned quietly. "As far as anyone here is concerned, we've never met before. That includes the team."

Reflexively, Wally's eyes darted around the room. He found Superboy first, dressed from head to toe in garb identical to his own, but with a massive scowl on his face. He didn't even bother pretending he wanted to be there, but party-goers seemed too interested in the desserts on his tray to be deterred by his foul mood. Wally couldn't blame them; the treats Superboy was carrying looked drool-worthy.

It was possible that the clone's attitude stemmed from the fact that his girlfriend was floating around with Kaldur, posing as a couple. Wally spotted her loose curls and her pretty red dress that flared out whenever she turned; she was hooked onto Kaldur's arm, while the Atlantian was sporting a dark suit jacket and a contrasting tie the color of the ocean. His face bore its usual focus as he conversed with an older gentleman, hardly glancing twice at M'gann. Clearly he didn't realize what a lucky man he was tonight.

It took Wally a few times realize that the hot blonde sitting at the corner table by herself, arms and legs crossed and tight long dress hugging all the right places, was Artemis. She had her hair pulled back in a messy bun, her face neutral and unreadable, and her high heel shoes discarded under the table. All in all, she was making Wally's mouth salivate more than Superboy's chocolates.

Wally blinked, bringing his attention back to his best friend, who was starting to look worried. "I know Dude, but this party is nothing but a bunch of-" he started, then bit his tongue as a busty middle-aged woman in a short black dress sauntered over to observe his tray of mini-sandwiches. After a moment, her lips tilted to one side, unimpressed by the selection, before directing her eyes towards Dick.

"Hey there, Sweetie. You wouldn't happen to know where I can find your daddy, would you?"

Dick winced at her tone. Like she was speaking to a baby. With a shake of his head, he shrugged.

"Shame," she pouted, meandering away.

Wally deflated. "Is this thing almost over?"

"Almost over? Bruce hasn't even given his speech yet."

Wally groaned openly, bringing his tray down to waist level to stare longingly at it. "Do you have any idea what it's like to lug these things around and not be able to have one?"

"Nope," Dick said simply, finally popping the sandwich into his mouth, and even while chewing, he was able to maintain a wicked grin.

"It's torture," Wally deadpanned. "It's inhumane."

"It's food," Dick added, swallowing. "What's stopping you from taking a bite? What are they going to do – fire you?"

From somewhere deep in the back of his throat, Wally actually whined.

"Relax, Walls. When this is all over, you can take home all the leftovers you want."

"But if things go sour, there won't be much time for-"

"Just because you guys were told to keep an eye on things doesn't necessarily mean that something is going to happen. It's just… a precaution. You know how he is."

"Yeah," Wally said, lifting his tray over his head to balance it there. Out of sight, out of mind, after all. Ugh, God, he could smell it though.

"They are really good," Dick informed him, somehow able to read his mind.

"You're evil."

Dick smirked. "Rich spoiled brat, remember?"

And he was moving before Wally could counter the notion, swimming through the crowd with expert precision and leaving Wally with nothing but the alluring smell of miniature sandwiches.

xxOxx

Just as Artemis was adjusting the strap of her glittery teal dress, Dick approached her.

"I thought I recognized that face," he said chummily.

Artemis jumped, her hand reflexively reaching for the slit of her dress. Dick pretended not to notice.

"Grayson," she responded warily. Dick could see her brain working for an excuse as to why she would be at the party, and seemingly by herself, but Dick had no intentions of asking her. He took the chair next to her and smiled a big smile.

"It's kind of nice to see someone else my own age at these things," he said truthfully. Outside the world of heroes, Artemis Crock and Dick Grayson knew each other, but were not exactly friends. Dick wanted to change that.

That didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun in the process.

"By the way, I came over here to let you know – that waiter over there keeps staring at you. I think he likes you."

Dick saw Artemis stiffen, her eyes flicking over to where Dick had indicated. Wally was there, not-so-subtly trying to sniff at the meat and cheese sitting atop of another server's tray. Then her face pinched into irritation, her cheeks going red as she frowned deepened.

"What are you, five?"

Dick laughed, quickly covering his mouth as he did so to prevent it from giving him away. "Not your type, huh?"

"He looks like an idiot," she said flatly, her eyes sliding to the side. Then she mumbled, "But I suppose he's not the worst one in the room. Have you seen the help? One guy keeps stuffing fruit into his pockets when he thinks no one is looking, and that one in the corner is picking his teeth with, what is that, a fork? And then there's that guy," she continued, nodding towards the emergency exit. Dick followed her gaze. "He looks like he doesn't even belong here."

Dick stared. The waiter in question was standing with his back to the wall, eyes surveying the room with an air of disinterest. His attire was identical to that of the other servers, bar one thing; an ear piece that traveled from his ear to the breast pocket of his jacket.

Artemis was right; this guy didn't belong.

Dick stood up slowly, trying not to react openly when the man's eyes met his for the briefest of seconds. "Sorry, uh, I just remembered something I have to do," he offered lamely, and left.

Before every party, every event or function, Bruce went over a few lists with him. Repeat party-goers, important guests, staff – he was given names and faces, imperative details. Dick memorized all of them, and the server standing against the wall was a face Dick couldn't recognize. He had to let Bruce know. Surely this had something to do with the new Wayne-

"Oouf!"

Someone crashed into him, and Dick could feel something splash across his front, staining his clothes instantly. Acrobatic roots allowed him to capture his balance quickly and flawlessly, and when he glanced up to identify the culprit, he was met with a very pretty, very flustered, very apologetic Miss Martian.

"Oh, my gosh, I am such a klutz," M'gann covered her face with her hands, completely embarrassed. Dick shook his head, there was nothing to forgive, and it was nice to see someone being genuinely sorry for something at one of these damned things. The girl peeked through her fingers, then gasped when she realized who she was speaking to. "Y-you're..! Oh I am so sorry!"

Dick waved it away. He'd always hated this suit anyway. "It's really okay. Honest," he offered her forgiving smile. "Please don't worry about it."

"He said don't worry about it. The suit will be fine," a man within earshot interposed. Dick felt a sharp elbow dig into his side as the man he didn't recognize nudged him. "Besides, this guy can always just, haha, buy another one!"

The man guffawed until he was red in the face. Dick didn't even humor him with a counterfeit laugh.

"So, I'm going to just go wash this out," Dick mentioned, unable to look away from the man's giant row of teeth as his lips peeled back to continue laughing. During one of his first public events with his mentor, Bruce had told Dick that money was something like a disease if you let it be one. This man seemed to exemplify that, and Dick was grateful that Bruce hadn't been infected.

He rushed to the bathroom before anyone could convince him otherwise. In the hotel's seemingly spotless restroom area, Dick leaned over the sink to observe the stain. It wasn't too bad. Alfred was a whiz at stain removal anyway.

Still feeling frazzled by the man's comment, Dick splashed his face with water and scrubbed until it hurt. As he rinsed, he heard the door swing open. Several pairs of footsteps filed inside.

When he patted his face dry with the sleeves of his jacket, he stood tall to observe his reflection in the mirror. Two men were standing there, watching.

They jumped him, a heavy hand clamping over his nose and mouth and something sharp pricking his neck. It sent his world into a series of spins and flips, but one of Dick's flailing fists collided with someone's nose and he could feel the blood splatter across his knuckles.

Then he became heavy and weak. Voices were barking at one another in heavy accents. Dick was aware of strong arms wrapping around him to hold him up but he still felt like he was falling. And Dick felt like he was continuously falling, until complete and utter blackness swallowed him whole.

xxOxx

Superboy froze, ears twitching. What was that?

He listened for it, but it did not sound again. Superboy pushed his way through the crowd, bringing his tray of chocolates with him, even as onlookers tried and failed to nab one from it as he zipped past. He ventured into the hallway, where he was almost certain was where the noise had come from, and shimmied along the wall to pass a man wheeling a cart. The white tablecloth draped over it brushed against his legs.

Then he darted into the bathroom, but there was no one inside, and everything looked relatively undisturbed.

He rubbed at his ears. Was he just hearing things?

Just then, he heard muffled applause through the door. The clone wandered back into the hallway; the clapping was louder and clearer now, and he could see people gathering on the north side of the room.

Superboy dove into the mental link. "What's happening?"

"Mr. Wayne is about to give his speech," M'gann's voice informed him.

The girl almost sounded excited to hear about Bruce Wayne go on about his latest and greatest, but Superboy rolled his eyes, deflated. "Boring."

Kaldur, sensing the clone's disinterest, reminded him and the others, "Stay alert."

xxOxx

Dick was disoriented. Before even opening his eyes, he knew he was far away from where he should be. Far from Bruce and the team that had been hired to look over the event – apparently, the new medicine was not the thing they needed to be keeping an eye on.

How much time had passed, he wondered. Long enough for the drug to wear off. Hopefully long enough that someone noticed he was missing.

He bit his lip, watching shadows dance at the base of a door. There were people on the other side of it, but Dick wasn't able to tell how many. Instead he tried to understand where he was; a dark room, with no windows and a single door. Small. A faint, almost ghostly smell of cleaning supplies. His ankles were strapped to the legs of a chair, his wrists secured tightly behind him. An easy escape with his gear.

Only he wasn't Robin right now.

Light flooded over him like an attack as the door was ripped open. Dick squinted, craning his head to the side.

"If you're looking for some sort of ransom, you're wasting you ti-" Dick was abruptly cut off by a vicious backhand to the face. His ears rang, but through the noise, he could hear someone yelling.

"Jesus! What part of 'in one piece' did you not get? We don't get paid to improvise."

"We're not getting paid. And besides, I can't help it. Rich people piss me off."

Dick felt his world tilt when someone grabbed the back of his chair and dragged him into the light. Voices filtered into his still-ringing ears, but one in particular seemed to be speaking to him.

"You will not be harmed again. You will be returned promptly once our objective is reached."

Dick took in the room quickly. He had been in a storage closet, albeit one that hadn't been used in years. He was now in what looked like the kitchen of a once-fancy restaurant. The place was old and worn down, but Dick could tell that even though the restaurant had been closed for some time, the building itself was still utilized frequently. By people like his kidnappers here. There were four of them; he recognized two from the bathroom earlier.

He probed at the inside of his mouth with his tongue, pondering whether or not to risk another hit to the face at the risk of a question.

Eh. Worse things have happened.

"What exactly is the objective?"

"Bruce Wayne handing over his latest from Wayne Medical."

Oh. Simple.

Dick snorted. "That won't happen."

"I assure you, it will be put to good use."

"Uh, yeah, that's the point. It's already going to be put to good use. That's what the ceremony is for."

"See what I mean?" an angry voice snarled. Dick recognized it as the one who really, really hated him. Joy. "He's a spoiled little punk."

"I'm just telling it like it is," Dick said, brows lowered. "It. Won't. Happen."

"Like hell it won't!" the short-tempered man bit back, reaching out and patting Dick around his pockets.

It took Dick a moment to realize that the man was stealing his phone. "Hey."

But the man was too busy finding his phone's camera function. He held it up, pointing it directly at Dick. "Smile," he said darkly, then snapped a photo of Dick's predicament. "Old Man Wayne's number is in here, right? In a little bit, he's gonna get a nice digital postcard."

"Enough," another man ordered. His voice was softer, but it was clear that he was the one in command. "It is pointless torment him. Just do what you were ordered to do."

Dick narrowed his eyes. These guys were just flunkies. Who was calling the shots?

"Right, right. Babysitting duty," the temperamental man growled. Dick swallowed; they were leaving him alone with this guy? "Send the thing and then wait for the go-ahead after Wayne gives up the drug."

"And nothing more. There is no need to hurt the boy. Just having him with us will be motivation enough. That is what Ra's tells me."

Dick froze. Ra's.

That meant this whole thing was premeditated and planned out to a greater degree than he had anticipated. But – and this was where Dick was confused – these weren't the kind of people Ra's typically put to work. They were too uninformed, and Tetchy over here was a bit too opinionated. Ra's' normal lot consisted of mindless drones who obeyed everything and questioned nothing.

That being said, did these creeps know he was Robin? So far, there hadn't been any clear-cut indication that they knew. Maybe Ra's hadn't told them? Dick bit his tongue, unsure how to proceed.

"Hello?"

Dick started. "Hu-what?"

"I said, looks like it's just you and me."

Blinking a few times, Dick noticed that the room had been cleared, save for short-fuse and himself. Dark brown eyes were narrowed in on him.

"You even scared?"

Wordlessly, Dick stared. Should he be? If these guys knew he was Robin, there should be no confusion about his composure. As Dick Grayson, he would need to play it up a little more.

"I am," he relied, forcing a slight shake to his voice. He had to be careful not to overdo it.

"Boy, you don't even know what fear is," the man sneered.

But Dick did know fear. He was paralyzed by it when his family perished and his new family faced it every day. He breathed it in on several occasions, like when he was bleeding out and mentally trying to calculate how much he'd lost and how much more he had to lose before it was too much. He quite literally came face to face with it whenever Scarecrow was in town. Dick shuddered at his latest memory of the villain; Wally had been there, and had he not been, Dick knew he would have been screwed.*

"You think you're the first people to use me against Bruce?" Dick stared as the man continued shifting through the contents of his phone. After a moment, he lifted his head, unfazed.

"It works, doesn't it?"

Dick had nothing to say to that.

xxOxx

Bruce looked down into the ruby red wine in his glass, thinking back fondly of the many occasions where Dick would ask him for a sip. The answer was always no, of course – he simply wasn't old enough – but Dick would tactically argue that he did plenty of other things someone of his age shouldn't be doing, but Bruce would always stand firm in his answer.

This crap was too dry anyway, even for his tastes. Dick wouldn't have liked it.

He scanned the crowd for the boy now; a difficult task, considering Dick's stature. Hopefully a growth spurt was in Dick's near future. Easier to keep an eye on him.

Bruce clutched a little tighter to the stem of the glass and tried to swallow some unidentifiable feeling when he couldn't spot Dick right away. Come to think of it, he couldn't recall seeing Dick in the crowd when he was giving his speech.

He was about to give the room another sweep when a feminine hand tapped at his shoulder, and stupidly, Bruce turned.

A chorus of giggles greeted him as three woman gushed at him. The blonde one reached out to stroke the lapel of his suit jacket, an excuse, Bruce knew, to feel his chest. She smiled broadly, the stark red of her lipstick making her teeth shine like pearls. "Brucie," she said. "For being the life of the party, you sure are hard to find."

"I've been right here." He tried to sound playful, but there was a flatness to his voice that he couldn't fully suppress.

"What's this you have?" the girl cooed, running her finger along the rim of his wine glass. He surrendered it to her easily, hoping she would just take the obligation off his hands. She took a long, slow sip, her eyes locking onto Bruce's when she was done. "A drink like this could really get to a girl's head."

One of the other girls, a brunette, rolled her eyes. "God, Theresa, could you be any more obvious? A man like Bruce isn't going to fall for an act like that," she said, taking place at Bruce's side and latching onto his arm. Bruce could feel her thumb repeatedly running over his bicep.

"Relax, a little harmless flirting never hurt anybody," the third one spoke up, folding her red hair over one shoulder and twirling the end strands of it with her finger.

Then Bruce felt a hand digging into his pocket – Theresa was taking his phone. Resisting the urge to snatch her wrist and make her drop it, he asked as kindly as he could, "Can I help you?"

"I'm sure plenty of girls will be sweet-talking you tonight. I just want to make sure that when I walk away, you have my number," she said silkily, thumbs working to find his phone's address book.

Very bold, Bruce granted, but gently he retrieved the phone from her grasp. "You can tell me, and I'll put it in myself," he lied, but Theresa seemed thrilled at the idea. Pink with joy, she recited her number, and Bruce mimed the act of putting it in. But as he did so, he caught sight of the notification at the top of his phone.

It was a picture message from Dick.

Call it parental instinct or pessimistic paranoia, but Bruce had a sinking feeling before he even opened it.

"Bruce? Brucie, you stopped typing," Theresa pouted at him, pawing at his arms for his attention. But Bruce refused to look at her. He couldn't. Not when there was an image on his phone of Dick, bound to a chair and in an unrecognizable background.

The three girls were talking, half at him and half at each other, but their words were lost to him. All he could hear was noise; his brain was careening through all the things this single file could mean. No one from Young Justice had reported anything out of the ordinary all night. Did they know? Batman had specifically ordered them to keep a close eye on Wayne Medical's latest scientific breakthrough – not the people attending the party.

Then another hand landed on his shoulder, tugging at him to turn around. He did, and suddenly, things made a lot more sense.

"Talia," he breathed.

"It is always good to see you, Bruce." Talia nodded at him. Immediately, the other girls sensed that their time was up. In particular, Theresa looked rather upset.

Bruce gripped Talia's arm and pulled her along until he found a semi-vacant corner to settle in. "What are you doing here?" he whispered darkly. He pulled up the multimedia message on his phone and practically pressed it to Talia's face. "And what, Talia, is the meaning of this?"

The girl lowered Bruce's hand and shook her head kindly. "The boy is fine. He will remain so, and will be returned to you in good time. But for now, there is a matter my father and I would like to talk to you about."

Bruce swallowed the snarl that threatened to escape. Through his teeth, he warned, "He had better be."

"My father has no desire to put him in harm's way. It would accomplish nothing. It is only an incentive to get you to listen."

"You didn't have to do that."

Talia shrugged. "Come, Bruce. Father is waiting."

He's here, Bruce acknowledged. He followed Talia as she led him to the man responsible for using his boy against him. Talia ended up guiding him into the main hall, where the head-count was significantly diluted. Bruce spotted Ra's effortlessly, and approached the other man with one of his darkest scowls.

Standing toe-to-toe, the gravel in his voice made him sound very unlike Bruce Wayne. "Ra's, I will warn you right now; just because we are in a crowded place does not mean I am obligated to act civil."

"Understood," Ra's affirmed, but the miniscule upturn of his lip did not go unnoticed. Bruce grasped that he would not be intimidating Ra's today, and perhaps it was stupid to even try. "But you and I both know, you will."

xxOxx

Wally ran his tongue over the length of his lower lip for the umpteenth time. He had no idea what condiment was on those little sandwiches, but it was good. He savored it fully before exiting the bathroom stall and meandering to the sink. Hiding alongside a public toilet to sneak a few bites was not exactly his proudest moment, but Wally had no regrets.

He observed his teeth in the mirror, then rolled up his sleeves to wash his hands. It was then he caught sight of red speckles along the edge of the sink.

Wally frowned; he was pretty certain it was blood. How did that get there?

Not wanting to tamper with what could very well be evidence, Wally washed his hands in a different sink, then hurried out the door into the hall-

-and crashed into someone.

A strong hand grasped him by the arm and yanked him to the side. He was thrown up against the wall and was immediately trapped as a much larger body pinned him there.

"Wallace."

"Holy crap, I'm sorry!" Wally pled, eyes pinched shut as if expecting to be pulverized. Bruce Wayne was a scary guy when he wanted to be, even without the cowl. The man looked pissed. God, how did he know!? "It was just one sandwich, I swear! Maybe two, I don't know! I won't take another bite for the rest of the night – I won't even sniff anything!"

Wally peeled his eyes open when he felt Bruce take his hands to place something into them. He forced the speedster's fingers to curl around it tightly to keep it from sight, and Wally knew this was about more than a couple of sandwiches. A deep voice rumbled at him, "There is a tracker embedded in the clip on Dick's tie."

Dick was missing? Guilt wrapped its claws around him instantly – he had just mingled with Dick not that long ago.

Instead of apologizing, Wally held his breath, recalling Dick's many lectures about the workings of his mentor. Bruce was direct and liked getting to the heart of things. How things like excuses and apologies only slowed the process of getting things done that needed to get done.

Wally knew he was being entrusted with a great responsibility. Bruce Wayne was a guest of honor and couldn't just disappear in the middle of everything, which put Batman out of commission as well. "I'll get the team together and-"

"No," Bruce's voice was low and secretive. Wally couldn't hear any stress in his voice, but he could see it in the creases between his brows. He could see the man's brain working, teetering between what he wanted to do and what he needed to do. "I still need someone to keep an eye on things here."

"Okay," Wally nodded awkwardly, tightening his grip on the tracker. Determination pulled at him. Batman was asking for his help, and just like that Wally suddenly had an inkling as to why Robin always felt so driven to please his mentor. Batman's trust was empowering and very, very real. "I won't let you down."

Bruce Wayne straightened up, tugging on Wally's attire to eliminate the creases, then told him, "See that you don't."

Wally watched him walk away before snapping into action.

Out of all of his teammates, Superboy was the first one he found. He snatched the other boy by the tie and urgently pulled at him.

"Whats the big idea?" Superboy growled, clearly unhappy with being dragged around so suddenly. He tugged free of Wally's hold and crossed his arms defiantly, propping himself against an empty food cart.

"Change of plans," Wally rushed out, still trying to grab at his arm, but Superboy was like a boulder and refused to move without intel. Wally sighed irritably. "You know Bruce Wayne's kid? He's gone, and we have to go get him."

"Gone? What do you mean gone?" Superboy's face narrowed in confusion, but Wally could see that he at least had the other boy's attention. "Wait, how do you know?"

"Because I… Batman told me." Technically not a lie.

"He told you? Why would he tell you and not the rest of us?"

"Does it matter?" Wally barked, trying not to raise his voice. They were wasting time!

Superboy's eyes slid to the side in thought. He uncrossed his arms, no longer closed off. "Come to think of it, I heard something strange a little bit ago. From the bathroom, I think. But I didn't see anything when I went in there."

"You… you did?" Wally gaped. Superboy must not have noticed the blood on the sink. "And you didn't say anything?"

"There was nothing there," Superboy defended.

"You didn't see anything?"

"All I saw was someone pushing one of these stupid things." Superboy was irritated now, kicking at the cart next to him, causing the cloth draped over it to flutter. For the second time, a flash of red caught Wally's eye.

More drops of blood.

His stomach twisted. He had a very strong feeling that both bloodstains had something to do with Dick's disappearance. Ugh, those carts. Was that how they got Dick out unnoticed?

"Come on," he urged, and to his relief, Superboy followed him without further question. He even kept up with Wally as he darted out of the hotel and onto the streets, sneaking peaks at the tracker in his hands and following the GPS in Dick's tie clip. His friend was several miles East. "This way!"

"How do you know where you're going?" Superboy asked evenly, but Wally just kept running. Dick trusted him with his biggest secret and Bruce was trusting him with Dick's safety. Superboy's suspicion could really back him into a corner if he wasn't careful, but Wally didn't want to risk coming to Dick's rescue by himself, and maybe end up needing help and not having it. He knew Superboy was going to nag at him more about this later, but for now the clone seemed to grasp the importance of what they were doing, even if he didn't understand it. Wally was inwardly warmed by this – it meant Superboy trusted him.

"We're sure the Wayne kid will be there?"

"I'm sure," Wally answered, coming to a full stop and observing the tracker carefully. According to the small device, Dick should be just ahead. Wally lifted his gaze and found an ancient looking eatery nestled between an apartment building and a once-upon-a-time coffee shop. It was falling apart, which wasn't saying much since the rest of the neighborhood they found themselves in wasn't much to look at in the first place.

"Get down!" Superboy hissed, shoving Wally to the dirt and flattening to the ground himself as well. Wally stayed low as he observed three men walking the perimeter, all armed. A balcony sprouted out from the second floor; an easy way in if they played their cards right.

Superboy must have seen it too. He didn't even hesitate, plucking Wally off the ground and bounding high into the air towards the balcony. It gave Wally the temporary sensation of flight, a joy that was interrupted when Superboy landed. The balcony shook under their touchdown, and Wally knew the noise would reach the ears of the men patrolling the area.

"What was that?"

"It came from up there."

Crap, Wally fretted.

Superboy's face was not even remotely apologetic. "Let them come up," he said. "We can take them."

"Fine," Wally granted. If they took care of these goons now, it would eliminate any nasty, unexpected run-ins later, he supposed.

"We'll be quick about it," the clone alleged, cracking his knuckles. Wally nodded firmly.

"I can do quick."

xxOxx

Bruce warned him many times after patrol to watch his mouth in front of the enemy. That it was the reason he sometimes found himself on the wrong end of a beating. Dick knew this, but it was a part of his identity he could never fully cut off. Like no matter who he was at the time, it was innate.

He regretted it today, however.

Dick tried to speak, to tell this idiot to stop, that Ra's' instructions clearly stated that he was meant to be unharmed, that he took back the smart comments he made earlier, but every time he opened his mouth, blood would bubble over his swollen lips and all he could manage was a gurgle.

How long had he been trapped in this room with this lunatic? For the first time, Dick wanted his captors to come back.

"I know what you're thinking," the man teased, wiping his hands along his pants to clean off the blood. He gripped Dick's shoulder with one hand for stability while he arched back his other to drive his fist into Dick's face again. "Why am I breaking orders?" The next punch got him in the temple. The head-splitting pain was instant. "You know what I was told I would get for doing this? Eternal life – what bullshit. I've been busting my ass for weeks now and I haven't gotten jack shit. And then I realized; my payout would be living the rest of my life as a mindless drone for that creep? Them other guys might be okay with that, but me? No thank you."

Dick wheezed, only half paying attention. It was unlikely that Ra's would have any intention of hanging onto people like this guy, eternally or not. As for the reasoning behind it? Dick stopped caring long ago. He wanted to go home. Or for Ra's to walk in. Surely he wouldn't tolerate someone breaking his word like this. Ra's knew what he meant to Bruce.

A hand grabbed his face, squeezing his cheeks until blood and spit oozed out over his chin.

"And we got all the time in the world right now. Those clowns are waiting on my word to come back, but I don't have any intention of hanging around."

Dick's lips trembled. "Why are you… even here, then? If you're so… you're so set on breaking it off, then why?"

Instead of justifying his actions with a sensible answer, the man shrugged. "I told you. Rich people piss me off."

"They will find you. Ra's… will find you," Dick swore, closing his eyes. God, his head hurt.

"And boy won't he be mad," the man near-chortled, clearly not caring about the repercussions. Dick was feeling rather discouraged at this point. Without meaning to, as a hand snaked its way into his hair and took a firm hold, he released a desolate moan.

Then something pounded at the door. It wasn't like a knock, Dick discerned. More like someone was trying to break in.

His tormentor stiffened at the sound, hand tightening in his hair.

Then the door flew off the hinges, shattering when it flew across the room and hit the opposite wall.

xxOxx

The last gunman fell to the floor with a groan. To Wally's pleasure, Superboy hadn't been wrong about being able to handle the guards without a hitch. He snapped his head towards Superboy, who was rolling his neck to relieve the kinks.

"Where?" he half-asked, half-demanded.

Superboy didn't flinch. He closed his eyes and opened his ears, and only a few seconds passed before he narrowed his gaze towards the bar area. "There."

Wally bolted for it, finding only one other door in the room besides the one leading to the stairwell. He rammed into it angrily, rubbing at his shoulder when the thick barrier didn't budge. Superboy came up next to him, flexed his fingers, then pulled back his right arm to deliver a heavy punch to the woodwork.

The door sailed across the room and broke when it hit the wall. The scene that was revealed made Wally's skin crawl.

Dick was bound to a chair and had obviously been beaten. His face was bruised and covered with splotches of red. Next to him was a man, one hand clutching tightly to Dick's hair and the other reaching for his pocket once he realized he was cornered.

"Who the fuck are you!?" the man choked out, rounding Dick's chair and yanking the boy's head back. Wally watched as he produced a small knife and pressed it against his best friend's jugular. The speedster stood perfectly still – rushing the man while he had a blade to Dick's throat could end really badly if he fudged it up – and inwardly prayed to all things holy that Superboy would have the mind the do the same. Next to him, the clone was snarling.

"H-hold on, now," Wally said. He wanted to throttle this loser, but there was no belittling the situation they had found themselves in. "We're not here to complicate things."

"Right," the man hissed, tugging even harder on Dick's hair to emphasize the vulnerability of the boy's throat. Wally heard Dick's breathing deepen, and a single drop of blood snaked down the length of Dick's neck to his collarbone.

He just needed this guy to remove the knife for a second. Just one, precious second. If he did that, Wally could end this.

But the guy was not only angry, he was feeling trapped, and Wally knew things like that could make people lash out. Wally resisted the urge to say please. "Look, we're unarmed. How about you put the knife down and-"

"Fight fair," Superboy tacked on bitterly.

The man snorted, and Wally feared they may have screwed up. A mountain of terrible things flashed across his mind, all of them ending with Dick's blood on his hands, and Wally knew he would never in a million years be able to wash it off. "Do I look like an idiot to you? Fighting fair in a city like this gets you killed. I wasn't going to kill the runt. Just rough him up a little. Make a point."

Wally must have missed something. There was actually logic behind what this guy was doing to Dick? The very concept made his blood boil. He glared daggers. Waiting was never something Wally took pleasure in, but perhaps patience really was a virtue, because it paid off.

"As you can see, I'm running the show here." The man lifted the knife to show off his trump card, carelessly so. The quick motion caused a slight red line to appear across Dick's neck. Wally's heart pounded – easily he could have slit Dick's neck open.

Wally tried not to let it distract him from the fact that he had his opening. While the man was flashing his weapon, Wally moved.

He dove for the knife, grabbing at it with both hands and yanking it from the mercenary's grip. Wally chucked it across the room where it sunk into the doorframe, then delivered a well-aimed sucker-punch to the man's jaw. It was a powerful hit that caused him to stumble back, where his foot caught on the leg of Dick's chair. The man, the chair, and by extension, Dick, all toppled to the floor.

"I'll get the kid," Superboy informed him, somewhat oddly, but Wally stopped him.

"No, let me. You take care of this idiot."

Superboy blinked at him, his lips tightening into a straight line, but he did as he was instructed. Wally knew someone like Superboy would be able to handle a short fuse like Dick's kidnapper, so now he was finally able to refocus his attention.

"Hey," Wally got to his knees and quickly loosened the knots securing Dick's wrists and ankles. "You okay?"

Dick made a strange noise, brows drawn low and eyes screwed shut. After a moment, he launched a wad of pink spit to the floor. Wally slid his arms under Dick's to help hoist him to his feet.

"Wa… Wall-"

"Eh, Kid Flash," Wally corrected him loudly. They were, after all, in a room with someone possessing super-hearing, who also didn't really know Dick Grayson, or that he knew who Kid Flash really was. Boy, that could have been a disaster. "Call me Kid Flash. And- and that's Superboy."

"What? Kid Flash? …Superboy?" Dick's face scrunched oddly, trying to work out why he had to refer to his friends like this all of the sudden. Then his eyes opened warily, and Wally could see understanding seep into them. Dick's bat-logic must have finally clicked.

Superboy approached them, having already subdued the criminal. His face was stern. "Can you walk?"

"Yeah," Dick answered quickly, but then never made an attempt to unlatch from Wally's support.

The clone shook his head. "You're just as stubborn out of costume as you are in it."

Wally deflated. "Oh mannnn, Bats is going to kill me! How long have you known!?"

A small, proud smile crept into Superboy's face; a rare expression that looked good on him. "I just figured it out, really, but I had my suspicions earlier tonight when you dragged me out of that party. You acting like a weirdo is nothing new, but it was your heartbeat that gave you away. I know it sounds odd, but your heart takes up a very particular pattern whenever you see Robin in mortal danger. And your heart picked up that same pattern a couple times tonight."

Wally was certain that the edges of his mouth were touching the floor, his frown was so big. He really wanted to hash this out further, but Dick was growing steadily heavier in his hold and was being uncharacteristically passive, considering Superboy had just revealed something kind of big, so he logged it away for later. He scooped Dick up in his arms. "Try to keep up with me."

"Go," Superboy urged.

So Wally ran, distractedly. The stupid suit and tie made it difficult to run comfortably or at a speed that he preferred, but he managed. Dick appeared to be in a state of great discomfort anyway, which slowed his speed a few more notches. To a point where Superboy could almost match his pace.

"Wally," Dick voiced, sounding strained. Wally could feel Dick's fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, and he sensed that his friend was stressed. Wally slowed.

"What is it, Dude? Talk to me."

"Something's… Something's not right," Dick breathed, slowing dragging his hand up to rub at the back of his neck. "I can't tell what it is."

"Okay, just hang tight," Wally tried to soothe, but inside he was panicking. An injured neck was not something to be taken lightly. His heart thudded again, and this time Wally wondered if Superboy could hear it. "Almost there."

Ugh. It wasn't like he could control his heartbeat. It wasn't his fault Superboy could eavesdrop on things like that. Superboy wasn't stupid, though. Had anyone from the team been in the clone's place, they still might have been able to figure it out, too.

He made good time, stopping just outside of the Royal Hotel, deciding it might not be a good idea to rush into a building teeming with rich socialites and reporters with the well-known son of Bruce Wayne bleeding in his arms. Thankfully, Superboy was there to tackle the hurdle.

"I'll get him," the clone said, and another knot tightened in Wally's stomach. Oh God, that's right. Superboy was able to piece together that Bruce Wayne was Batman. Oh, he was toast. He wondered how Bruce would react to Superboy of all people informing him that Dick had been recovered, and then he wondered what kind of slow torture the Bat would plan for him for letting Dick's secret spread.

Not much time had passed but Wally noticed that Dick hadn't spoken for any of it. Before he could question it, however, Bruce Wayne came running out of the front doors.

Silently, he surrendered Dick to Bruce's arms when the billionaire reached them.

xxOxx

Wally didn't know much about Ra's and Talia other than they approached Batman and Robin with warped rationality rather than blatant scare tactics. He also knew that the father-daughter team were relentless in their advances. Wally didn't really much care for these details, but he took great pleasure at the very recent memory of Bruce Wayne having them removed from the premises.

Now at the hospital, Wally not-so-patiently waited at Dick's bedside for his friend to wake up. Earlier, Dick had been irritable and dizzy and complained of a splitting headache and a pain in his neck. From what he could overhear from the nurses and doctors, Wally was pretty sure Dick had some sort of mild whiplash, courtesy of being struck across the face so violently.

Dick had succumbed to sleep shortly after that, and Bruce had hesitantly ventured into the main waiting room to ward away that obnoxious paparazzi that dared to follow them to the hospital. Dick chose that moment to wake up.

"Walls," he grinned groggily. "Hi."

Wally opened his mouth to respond – Hi, he thinks it might have been – but the door cracked open, and the speedster wondered if Bruce had already returned.

It was the team.

Wally's eyes turned into saucers. Had Superboy blabbed? Was he trying to get them all killed!?

"Wh-what are…"

"Relax. They know," Superboy informed him simply. Calmly. As if he didn't just nail the coffin shut.

"They know?" Wally was choking. He spun around to face Dick, throwing himself over the bed with his hands folded together, groveling. "Oh man, oh man, on a scale of one to ten, how bad do you want to kill me right now?"

But Dick laughed. He actually laughed. "Chill out, Wally, its… kind of nice."

"But it's not my fault! See, I… what?"

Artemis stalked over, flicking Wally on the forehead before standing at the foot of Dick's bed. She then thwacked Dick on the leg. "You have got to be kidding me. I should have known; you're such a troll, no matter who you are."

Dick laughed again, harder this time. Wally had to admit, it was nice being able to hear Robin's trademark laugh and see the smile reach his eyes.

"What are you going to do? Shiv me with that diving knife you've had strapped to your thigh all night?"

The archer gasped shortly, hand flying immediately to her leg, then frowned. "How did you... you know what? Nevermind."

Meekly, M'gann clasped her hands together. "Does this mean you won't be wearing your sunglasses all the time?"

"I don't know about that," Dick said, unsure. Wally was almost positive Batman wouldn't let him walk around without his shades. But Dick being able to walk around freely without them? It was a nice thought, regardless.

"I hope this does not alarm you," Kaldur said tactfully. "I understand this might be a lot to digest."

Wally was sort of floored at how calmly Dick was taking this, and wondered if the drugs were making him take the news better. But then again, his friend's smile looked positively genuine.

"I don't think you understand how much this doesn't alarm me," Dick admitted. Then his face grew serious. "But… this has to stay a secret."

He didn't have to expand on why it was so vital. Wally was grateful for that. One less reason for Bats to rip him apart.

The visit only lasted a few minutes longer before Kaldur insisted that Dick rest further, to which Dick regretfully agreed to. As they began to file out of the room, Dick caught Wally's arm to hold him back.

"Duuude, that was not supposed to happen," Wally groaned. Why was Dick taking this so well?

"You act like Pandora's Box has been opened."

"It's worse than that!"

"Walls, this… this is a good thing."

"You mean until you-know-who gets wind."

"I'm pretty sure he already knows. World's greatest detective and all that. But seriously, Walls, there are so many secrets in my life. It's nice to finally lighten the load a little."

"Okay, I get that, but-"

The click of the door informed Wally that someone had entered. It was Bruce, as if on cue, as if some weird freakish bat-sense has summoned him (and at this point in his life, Wally really didn't put it past the man to have such a feature). The man froze at the sight of them, making an unreadable expression. Whether that expression was directed at Wally for sitting on Dick's bed (he didn't remember hopping on it, really) or at Dick for being awake and looking happy, Wally didn't know, but he was back on the floor with his hands innocently tucked behind his back before anyone could blink.

"Uh, I was just leaving," he said, making a beeline for the door. A heavy hand caught him before he could slip through. Mentally, Wally imagined his shoulder shattering, should Bruce squeeze. "No one else will find out. I promise," Wally whispered hoarsely, unable to meet the billionaire's eyes.

A low voice crept into his ear, and Wally would never forget.

"See to it that no one ever does."

His arm was released and Wally ambled into the hallway, shutting the door behind him. There it was again; that penetrating sense of responsibility and credibility. That need to do right by Batman simply because he was Batman. But regardless of who Wally made his promise to, it was one of many he had every intention of keeping.

End.

*A little nod to Haleykim's fic, 'Fear' :)