May 19, 2017
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Dick/Helena/Tiger trio
Getting an apartment
Learning each other’s quirks
Fighting over leftovers (if it’s still there after 3 days, it’s fair game)
Netflix and chill
Ridiculously hot sex
Beating up bad guys and taking down spy orgs
Maybe getting a pet
Homecoming Chapter 18
@prettybeefballs @iontorch @darkmagicianknight
The whole fic is a sequel to Human Connection (can be read as a standalone, but character personalities make more sense if read together)
All chapters
Read on AO3
Pairing: DickTiger
Rating: Mature
Length: 5.8k (this chapter)
Summary: The interrogator has a few tricks up his sleeve.
Notes: More torture. Mentions of a real technique but the one actually shown is a machine I made up.
Chapter 18
Dick was relieved to find Tiger was put back on caretaking duties. However, he no longer hung around once his job was done. The most he touched Dick outside of medical necessity was to squeeze his hand. They couldn't risk Bannon walking in on them again.
Bannon pushed the both of them even harder in interrogation. He still favoured electrocution and other methods that didn't require physical force. Maybe he didn't want to give Tiger a chance to hold back. Each session stretched longer than the last.
Dick needed this to end.
After one particularly packed day—Dick now knew what waterboarding felt like, and wished he didn't—Tiger still came to fetch him late that night.
Dick barely held back a groan. “What now?”
“Bannon needs you upstairs,” Tiger said dully, securing cuffs around Dick's already raw wrists. Even the loosest setting Tiger dared use felt like burning against his skin.
Tiger escorted him out of the cell block and into the facility proper. Helena was waiting by one of the doors in the world's most boring hallway.
“One of Dr Netz's machines is in there,” she warned. “It never made it past the prototype stage. It was designed as a torture device that left no lasting effects, but every test subject has suffered long-term physical ailments if used too long. So don't be a smartass.”
Just one more day, Dick reminded himself. Tomorrow, his family would arrive and they would get out of here. He had to keep himself in one piece for the occasion.
“You seen this thing before?” Dick asked Tiger, who shook his head.
They stepped inside. Helena didn't follow.
The machine took up most of the room, with big metal boxes of computer shit, a vertical gurney covered in straps, and an enormous control panel manned by Bannon and one of Netz's scientist protégés. Gloria hovered near another panel that appeared to be a heartbeat monitor.
“Strap him in,” said Bannon. “Tightly, if you please. We wouldn't want our friend hurting himself, now would we? And don't forget the electrodes.”
Dick was already worn out from three torture sessions during the day. But he couldn't do anything about it, so he let Tiger lead him to the gurney, dodging electrodes and metal spikes and other nasty shit. Tiger helped him step onto the platform and pulled the straps tight across his body. Dick's arms were trapped by his sides, which immediately freaked him right out. The scientist stepped forward to attach some of the electrodes to Dick's temples, which didn't help matters.
Tiger and the scientist retreated behind the control panels, leaving Dick up there alone. A glass dome slid into place around the lower half of his body.
“This machine is designed to help interrogators extract information,” Bannon said. He nodded to the scientist and the machinery inside the dome began to whirr and shift. A metal spike pressed against Dick's thigh and other, more blunt metal arms followed suit, creeping him the fuck out and they hadn't even done anything yet.
“The machine is primed for stage one, sir,” said the scientist.
“His vitals are up and running,” Gloria added. No hiding how much the machine freaked Dick out, then.
Bannon placed one hand on the control panel, leaning into it with a locked straight arm, and smiled up at Dick. “I have been very patient over these past few days. Despite your resistance, you have provided useful information. However, the questions I wish to ask now, I expect you will not answer without additional persuasion.” Bannon's shoulder gave an audible pop as he leaned more deeply into his hand. “Now, first question. Spyral had a file containing identifying information about the superhero community. It is missing. What have you done with it?”
“Nothing,” Dick answered. Helena had removed it herself. She probably had a copy as insurance, but Dick didn't know for certain.
“Are you sure?”
“I never witnessed him accessing such a file,” Tiger supplied.
“Perhaps he did so without your knowledge.” Bannon nodded to the scientist, who pressed a button.
Dick's head split with pain and he flopped against the restraints. His vision burst and suddenly everything was too bright and loud and he was drowning in it. Beeps turned to screams, whirrs into roars. If he could've covered his ears, he would have.
And then it stopped. He sucked down huge lungfuls of air as his head throbbed in protest.
“That was just a taste of what this machine can do,” said Bannon. “Now what did you do with that file?”
“Nothing.” Dick's voice cracked on the word. If his hands were free right in this moment...
“Again,” Bannon said to the scientist.
It was worse this time, sharper, louder in his head, coursing throughout his whole body. Somehow, it tipped over the brink, and suddenly it dimmed, quietened, but then there was a sharp pain in his thigh and he was back. He hadn't escaped. The metal spike had jammed into his leg, injecting something that forced him awake.
Fuck it. He screamed.
The room was pulsing, turning, blurring, burning. This wasn't Spyral. This was hell. He had died and gone to hell.
And then it stopped. Tiger's eyes were boring into him, but that was the last place he could look right now. The metal spike detached itself from his thigh, which fucking hurt.
“I'll ask again,” said Bannon.
“I had nothing to do with that file, you fucking asshole.”
“Then who removed it?”
“I don't know.” Now he was lying. If Bannon wouldn't accept that, maybe he'd have to lie again, pretend that he actually did delete the file. Claim it was gone and there was nothing anyone could do about it. That was only if he had to, though. Bannon would take far too much pleasure in punishing him for that. And he couldn't even pass out to get away from it because of whatever drugs had been in that spike-needle-thing.
Bannon watched him for a long moment, but then shrugged and moved on. “Very well. Turn the machine up to the next level. This next question will require more persuasion.”
“Remember you can't give him another dose of the wakeup drug for another four hours,” Gloria said. “The side-effects would make him incoherent until the original dosage stops taking effect.”
“Is the calibration complete?” Bannon asked the scientist, who nodded. “Good. Now, Nightwing. Owing to the fact our superhero files were stolen and our technology hampered, identifying you and your Gotham compatriots has proven quite difficult. You're going to help me with that.”
Like hell, Dick thought. He kept his mouth shut. Tiger had raised his eyebrow behind Bannon's back. It wasn't exactly a secret the Gotham vigilantes kept their identities particularly close to their chests. Asking one of them to give up that kind of information would be less productive than talking to a brick wall. Dick had plenty of experience with that, having been raised by a brick wall himself.
To be perfectly honest, Bannon probably just wanted an excuse to fry Dick to within an inch of his life, if not further.
The man's smirk was enough to inspire pacifists to declare war. “Now, where shall we start? Ah, yes. Why exactly does your face not exist to facial recognition software?”
“Uh, because that'd defeat the purpose of the whole secret identity thing?”
“How did Batman manage to infiltrate every piece of this software I have encountered?”
“Because he's Batman.” Any futher explanation would require digging into Wayne Enterprises, Bruce Wayne leveraging his connections with other companies that produce that kind of software, and the Justice League's space station that had technology designed to detect when a member of the community was at risk of exposure.
Bannon nodded to the scientist and the pain drilled into Dick's skull all over again. Light burst in his vision, which didn't help one bit.
“How has Batman gotten his hands on the software?” Bannon asked once it had stopped.
Dick took a few deep breaths before he could answer the way he wanted to. “Because he's a technological genius you can never hope to match. Ask him if you want the details. I just reap the benefits. Next question.”
Bannon eyed him for a solid minute. Dick didn't give him the satisfaction of breaking eye contact.
They moved on. “Very well. Next question it is. How many vigilantes affiliated with Batman reside in Gotham City?”
“I don't talk to everyone. I couldn't tell you.” This was true. Dick had a rough idea, but there were a few part-timers and newer heroes he didn't know very well. And Catwoman was anyone's guess regarding what side she was on.
“With your friendly reputation?”
“That was before Spyral, buddy.”
“Do you really expect me to believe you don't know who is operating within your own city?”
“As long as Batman knows, fine by me.”
“So Batman's word is law? That's how it is?”
“Obviously.” Dick wasn't quite picking up on the point of this line of questioning, but he couldn't tell if that was the lingering pain or Bannon being particularly squirrelly.
“And you have never disobeyed his orders?”
“I disobey a lot of people.”
“Does he know you're here?”
Ah. So that was the point. He wanted to know if Batman was about to mount a rescue.
“He forbade me from coming,” Dick said, which was somewhat accurate, even if Batman had ultimately relented.
“Does he know you ignored his orders?”
“I don't know. I don't usually tell people I'm about to disobey them.” Hopefully the vitals Gloria monitored wouldn't give away the lie, given the torture had probably thrown them off already. She certainly wouldn't tell Bannon if they did, but he could always look for himself. And then they would all be in trouble.
“And what exactly did you intend to do here?”
“I had received assurances that Spyral was heading in a less shitty direction. I came to see for myself. We all know what happened next.”
“And how likely is it that Batman is going to appear on our doorstep?”
“No idea. As much as I'd like to live in a fantasy world, it wouldn't serve me well to pretend he knew I'd been captured at this particular location.”
“If he did know, it wouldn't serve you well to tell the truth, would it?”
“I don't know what to tell you, man.”
“Maybe more persuasion will help clear up your confusion.”
It was longer this time. The pain, which had been concentrated in his head, exploded downwards into his neck, his already overtaxed shoulders, his chest, legs, feet. Everywhere. His teeth were fucking rattling.
Hell, they were screeching, right there in his mouth. It was all too bright, too loud, too sharp. A monstrous merry-go-round of pain and noise and light and death, whirling faster and faster and he screamed and screamed and begged to get off the ride.
His head was going to explode or his neck would snap or he would burn from the inside out—eyes popping, eardrums exploding, throat tearing—until there was nothing left but a smoking skeleton and then—only then—would he know peace.
“Enough,” said Bannon. The pain stopped. “Now, tell me the truth. Does Batman know you are here?”
That last bout had left Dick physically shaken, his stomach staging a protest. He swallowed against it. “No.”
“Do we need to go another round?” said Bannon. Tiger twitched, just a touch, beside him. Neither of them could afford the truth to come out. No matter how much he had to endure, it was better for Batman to be able to infiltrate the facility as planned than it would be for Dick to be in fighting shape. They could work around his condition, but Spyral anticipating the attack would leave the whole plan in shambles and then Dick would never get the fuck out of here.
The scientist adjusted the settings on the control panel once more and the machine began a deep, bone-rattling hum. Dick had to endure this.
He had to.
Hours later, Gloria tended to Dick, who had finally lost consciousness, in the cell. Tiger didn't want to leave.
“I've got this covered,” Gloria kept telling him. It didn't help.
Dick hadn't changed his answer, not even when Bannon changed tactics, leaving the machine running and swearing only to stop it when Dick provided the answers he wanted. Alia's imminent return had made him desperate for have something to show for the days of having a captured vigilante with no directorial oversight. Eventually, however, even the wakeup drug waned just enough that it couldn't stand against Dick's body trying to protect itself and he had passed out. There were perhaps two more hours until he could be dosed again, but it was late at night and there were preparations to be made for Alia's arrival so Tiger sorely hoped they were done with this.
“Tiger,” Gloria said firmly, at odds with her gentle hands probing the base of Dick's skull. “You need to report to Helena, make sure she knows Dick will be of limited use tomorrow. I'll medicate him best I can, but he will need help. The longer you're down here, the smaller your window to discuss that.”
Tiger forced a breath. She was right. With Bannon's suspicion, it would not be long before he sought Tiger out to make sure he wasn't misbehaving. It seemed unlikely Bannon knew the true depth of Tiger's allegiances, but at the very least he seemed concerned that Tiger was experiencing far too much empathy for Dick's suffering.
Helena was still seated at the desk in her office despite the lateness of the hour. “I expected you ten minutes ago. Report.”
Tiger rested his hands on the back of the nearest chair, but couldn't bring himself to sit down. “Bannon believes Batman knows Nightwing is here. Nightwing refused to corroborate that and passed out from the sustained torture. Gloria is tending to him.” Forcing himself to speak like this, like the person he cared for most in the world had not just suffered terribly before his eyes, took everything he had.
Helena drummed her fingers on the tabletop, frowning. “We will have to tread carefully, then.”
“Gloria believes his fighting ability will be limited.”
“I'll have you and Gloria help him as soon as you're able tomorrow.”
“Did you find anything useful?” Tiger didn't even try to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Using Dick's torture as a diversion so Helena could keep digging for information left a bad taste in his mouth. Allowing that machine to exist—how had Helena thought such a thing did not deserve to be destroyed?—made him furious.
“I found the automated alarm system. Batman and his allies can infiltrate the building entirely without detection. Of course, if someone sees them and manually raises the alarm, that advantage is gone.”
“Was it worth it?”
“Given we have little control over what Bannon does to—”
“The machine, Helena. That thing should have been destroyed.”
“I thought it was,” Helena admitted. “I ordered them all decommissioned as soon as the dust settled. Alia must have had access to one I didn't know about. She and Dr Netz kept many things hidden from me.”
Tiger swallowed down his anger, even though he wanted to throw something. “As soon as we have control of this place, destroy that thing.”
“I intend to.” Helena pushed back her chair. “It's late. We both need rest. I understand your frustration, but it is not productive in our current situation.”
That only made Tiger want to stab something now, but she had a point. He would just have to wait until the fight tomorrow. He could channel all his feelings into violence then.
Tiger had been neglecting his prayers these past few days, but there was still time to wash up for the final prayer of the night. He missed the peace it brought him.
There was no place of worship in this place, so he made do with his bedroom. He had almost forgotten what this was like. Slowing down, for a short time, to connect with something bigger than himself. Bigger than this whole mess they were in.
The process calmed him enough that he thought maybe, just maybe, he could sleep tonight.
Until Bannon barged in at the end, of course, like the piece of shit he was. “What are you doing awake at this hour?”
“That should be obvious, Bannon.” Tiger lifted his Quran, which he had just closed. “I have met infants with better observation skills.”
Bannon made himself at home on the end of Tiger's bed; now Tiger would officially be incapable of sleeping there. “Shall we talk?”
“Can it wait until morning?” Or until never, as Dick would quip. Thinking about him only served to bring back the impotent rage Tiger had managed to set aside. So much for peace.
“I'd prefer if it didn't.”
Tiger put his Quran away and leaned against the nearest wall. “Fine. Spit it out.”
“I understand your decision to hand Nightwing over to Spyral has put you in a difficult position.”
“I would prefer if you spoke plainly.” Tiger did not have the patience for this feigned concern and genteel bullshit Bannon liked to wear like a coat every once a while, before a shift in weather allowed him to discard it, now that it no longer served his purposes.
“You appear to feel remorse for choosing to remain loyal to Spyral rather than your lover. You have reacted poorly to his interrogations. I am concerned you will be unable to do what must be done when the director returns and provides orders regarding our prisoner.”
Tiger had to fight to keep his expression unreadable, even as his blood chilled inside him. Whether the order came immediately or not, Alia would eventually have Dick killed. Assuming the plan he had created with Helena and Batman worked, Dick would not remain imprisoned long enough for this to be an issue. But it was still a cause for concern. If something went wrong and Batman's attack was delayed too long, Dick could die. That could not be allowed to happen.
“This still does not explain why you have invaded my bedroom at this hour.” It wasn't hard to show irritation. Tiger was plenty irritated, and more.
“I think it best we put you under arrest until the boss's orders have been delivered and carried out.” Bannon plucked a keycard from his pocket. “Fortunately, I can lock you in this room rather than dragging you into a cell. You will have all your usual comforts.”
A wild thought crossed Tiger's mind that maybe he could fight and overpower Bannon right now, hide him somewhere until the attack. But Bannon had gotten the better of Tiger in their previous clashes, even when they had been on equal footing and Tiger was not chained to a wall and—he forced himself to cut that memory off before it took hold of him. Anything less than guaranteed success was too risky. So Tiger discarded the idea, for Dick's sake.
“If that is what you must do,” he forced out.
Bannon smiled benignly—when he was anything but—and patted Tiger's cheek on his way out. Tiger couldn't have stopped a flinch if he'd tried.
Tiger climbed into bed, even though he mind whirred far too fast for sleep. Perhaps it would happen eventually. All he could do now was hope Helena figured something was wrong when he didn't appear for breakfast in the morning.
Sleep did not come easily, but he found it.
And then the door creaked open, and he lost it again. Tiger whirled out of bed, seizing the nearest object—a lamp—as a weapon.
“I'm not here to kill you,” came Helena's voice, as the door snicked shut again. “Put that thing down.”
Tiger slammed it back on the nightstand. “Yes?” His patience had run out days ago, and that was before Helena had snuck into his room while he was trying to sleep. Never sneak up on a sleeping spy, even if Tiger did not consider himself much of a spy anymore.
“Gloria was coming to update you on Dick's condition,” she said. “She overheard Bannon speaking to you. We'll rearrange our plans. I'll assign Gloria to get Dick out of the cellblock as quickly as possible and meet with you at the extraction point, or on the way if you move quickly enough.” Tiger's room was on the other side of the extraction point, so they wouldn't miss each other. “She has already hidden his equipment in an adjacent cell and, if he is taken to the torture chamber, will provide him the means to free himself if Bannon attempts to kill or severely injure him.”
“How is he?”
“He woke briefly, coherent enough to understand what she said to him, but not in a condition to speak yet.” Helena pressed a copy of the keycard to Tiger's bedroom door into his hand. “Do not let them find that. Use it at 2100 hours.” When the attack would commence. Alia was expected half an hour after that. “If the time has to move forward, I will release you myself as soon as I have disabled the alarm system. Dick will need most of the day to recover enough to be worth interrogating, so he should not be in serious danger too early.”
Tiger hoped that would remain true. “Are you sure the agents we chose are loyal?”
“As sure as I can be in this business. Even if my assessment of the others is inaccurate, Gloria won't turn against me. Even if she wanted to, I know where her children live and have provisions in place should we not survive.”
Most other agents did not have loved ones who could be threatened like that. Once upon a time, Tiger had been one of them. Given what Dick had suffered because of him these past few days, maybe he should have stayed that way.
“Enough self-flagellation,” said Helena. “Go back to bed. We have a fight to win.”
Dick's head was killing him. Gloria had neglected to provide him pain relief all day, citing that it would be better if he remained useless until closer to go-time. It made sense to keep Bannon at bay, but Dick was fully prepared to jump out of his own skull. Even hearing Gloria's voice, soft as it was, had made him want to cry in agony. Sometimes Tim got these really bad migraines that knocked him flat for hours, though the severity had dropped off once he'd started taking medication—well, when he actually remembered to take it. Was this what it felt like? No wonder Bruce had benched him for a while.
Gloria's plan, as horrible as it was, apparently worked. Bannon didn't bother questioning him until well after dinner, when Gloria had finally relented and given him some pain relief.
“Where's Tiger?” Dick asked as Gloria led him—gently, by the elbow, like an old woman crossing the street—into the torture chamber.
“Bannon put him under house arrest,” Gloria said, quietly in deference to the lingering remnants of Dick's pain. “He doesn't suspect your ruse, but he also believes Tiger is too empathetic to tolerate your treatment for much longer.”
The bright lights of the chamber caused an explosion of more pain in Dick's head. Gloria led him to the chair.
“Close your eyes for a moment, dear.” The leather straps tightened around his legs. “Are these loose enough to allow for escape?”
Dick gripped the arms of the chair and kicked his legs forward, eyes open the tiniest amount to make sure he didn't hit Gloria. His ankles pulled free of the restraints. Gloria reset them and performed the same procedure on the wrist restraints until they were both satisfied he could force his way out if needed.
“Once the fighting starts, I'll come get you,” said Gloria. “Your equipment is hidden in the cell next to yours, beneath the bed. If Bannon attempts to kill or severely injure you, can you fight him?”
Days of torture, poor nutrition and yesterday's hell-machine had weakened him. But in this case, he would have the element of surprise if he played his cards right. Could he execute a headbutt without knocking himself out in this condition? He most likely would have to. He could possibly free one or two limbs before Bannon caught on, but he'd need the man distracted to do better than that.
Ideas were forming. The prospect of escape sharpened his mind.
“Yes,” he said. “Does he carry a gun?”
“Not while interrogating. He prefers a more personal touch.” Gloria smiled wryly. “I had a colleague like that once. Terrifying woman. She used to challenge the rest of the squad to fistfights. I only got out of it because I was their best medic and someone had to patch them up afterwards.”
“My kinda lady.”
“She would have hated you.”
“Some of my strongest friendships came from hatred.” The light wasn't killing him as badly now, but the throbbing was still there, an extra and unwanted heart living in his head.
Gloria shook her head at him. “I should leave. Only fight him if your life or fighting capability are in danger. Otherwise, I'll surprise him for you.” She pinched his cheek and left him in there alone.
So this was it. Soon, the fight would begin. Now he had to their endure Bannon one more time, or kick his sorry ass. Well, he had always hoped for the asskicking but he could wait if he had to.
Bannon arrived in short order, smiling as he often did. There was something particularly disturbing about it today, though. He wasn't just pleased he had a human chew toy. He was ecstatic. Hopefully not by having a human chew toy. Maybe he couldn't wait for Alia to get here. He could wait forever, as far as Dick was concerned.
“Today's a special day, Nightwing,” Bannon said fucking brightly, unrolling his leather toolkit of horrors.
“Is it your birthday? Gee, you should've told me. I would've gotten you something.” A boot in the ass, preferably. The night was still young.
“I suppose I shouldn't be surprised not even last night could fix your attitude.” Bannon plucked a set of brass knuckles from the kit. “If I could put you back in there right now, I would. Sadly, I have been informed that could kill you. Another day, perhaps, assuming the boss doesn't have something else in mind.” It didn't take a genius to figure out Alia would likely have Dick killed instead. He hadn't been a particularly cooperative informant, not with the big things that really mattered.
“Who is the boss anyway?” Dick asked. “Someone I've met before?”
“I believe you have, yes.” Bannon was outright grinning now, as he slid the brass knuckles onto his fingers. “I hear you know her quite well, actually. Or, rather, she knows you.”
Hopefully, Alia had not been exempt from the wipe that erased Dick's identity from the minds and databases of everyone who was not supposed to have that information. Hard to say. In any case, she had not shared any information with Bannon, assuming she even knew Dick was here yet.
“Now,” said Bannon, “you were very adamant that Batman does not know you are here. Is that still your answer?”
“Yes.” As if he was going to ruin everything now.
“Even now that you've had time to think about it?”
“Yes. Next question.”
“How are you feeling today?”
“Seriously?” He may as well answer. It was the easiest question he was likely to get. “My head's killing me and your voice is even more grating than usual. No offense.”
“Neck pain?”
“A little. Not as bad as the head.”
“Weakness?”
“Some fatigue. You put me through the wringer even before that machine came into the picture.” It wasn't a good idea to telegraph exactly how much that had weakened him, though. If Bannon got too cocky, he might start fucking with Dick just for fun. Or just kill him if he didn't think he was useful anymore.
Had Dick been in a better condition, he probably would've noticed the fist coming before it hit, slamming and cutting his cheek. His head pounded so violently it was as if someone was beating him repeatedly with a hammer.
“How's the head now?” Bannon didn't have a fucking reason for that one. He just did it because he felt like it.
Fuck. His vision was swimming. And he kinda wanted to throw up.
Fortunately—or maybe unfortunately—Dick was saved from answering when Bannon pressed a finger to a communicator in his ear. “Boss?”
Well, shit.
“Good to hear, ma'am. I have news. We captured Nightwing.”
Dick blinked profusely until his head cleared, just a little, and he braced his hands against the arms of the chair. If the kill order came, he would fight. Even if he'd rather curl up into a ball and cry.
“Shall I wait for your return? Okay. Will do, ma'am.” The grinned that stretched Bannon's face was the most sickening to date. “Bad news, prettyboy. The boss has decided you're far more useful to us dead than alive.” His hands came down on top of Dick's and he leaned in. “How shall we do this, hmm? Short and sweet? Long and painful? Perhaps I should fetch your lover, or do you think he sympathises with you a little too much?”
His head was just out of Dick's headbutt reach. Just a little closer...
“I suppose we could chain him up so he couldn't interfere even if he wanted to. What a tragic pair you two make. Betrayed for duty, and he can't even take pride in a job well done. I hear he used to be a fine agent, until you ruined him.” Bannon came closer. “I bet that was your plan all along.”
Dick reared back with all the strength he could muster and slammed his head into Bannon's, angling it best he could to make sure the thicker part of his skull made contact. Bannon recoiled, ramming into the instrument table, holding his nose, and Dick, his head screaming and reeling, wrenched his arms and legs out of their restraints.
He had to press his advantage while he still had one. He leapt at Bannon, ripping the brass knuckles from his slackened hand, and slammed them into his face.
Bannon got his fingers around Dick's weakened wrist and squeezed, forcing him to drop the knuckles. Dick pressed his free forearm to the man's throat, slamming his foot onto the hand on that side until he stopped trying to move it. Bannon released his other hand, choking loudly, and tried to pry Dick's arm away, but it was easy enough to shove it away with the hand he'd just freed. Dick had the stronger position, even if he was currently weaker. He pressed his whole body weight down.
But Bannon kept wriggling, coming close to dislodging him. This wouldn't have been a problem if it hadn't been for that machine last night.
Bannon managed to roll onto his stomach, but Dick stayed on him, wrapping both his arms tightly around the man's throat as he crawled on his stomach towards the instrument table, which had dropped all its implements on the floor, mostly on the other side except for the stun gun. Fuck. Dick couldn't let him touch that, but he was having little luck stopping him.
He had to think of something else. They were approaching arm's reach. Dick shifted his grip to Bannon's shoulders, his feet finding purchase on the back of the man's thighs, and shoved himself ahead, grabbing the stun gun. He rolled, clumsily, finding a kneeling position. Bannon got his hands under the table, reaching for something that glinted.
Dick shoved the stun gun against Bannon's neck and turned it on. He shrieked, arms flailing, body shaking. Dick felt with his free hand for the brass knuckles; just as well Batman had taught him how to punch with his left hand. He turned off the gun and slammed the knuckles into Bannon's temple.
Bannon went limp, but he would wake soon enough. Dick spied a set of handcuffs that had fallen off the table. Of course, now he had to drag Bannon somewhere he could use them. The chair was closest, and bolted into the floor. Dick secured one cuff around Bannon's wrist to free his hands, and got his hands under the man's armpits. He pulled. Bannon maybe moved an inch, if that. God damn it.
Dick pulled again. And again. He was already panting from the exertion but, little-by-little, Bannon slid in the direction he wanted.
Finally, he was close enough and Dick fed the cuff around the leg of the chair before securing the other cuff onto Bannon's remaining wrist. Bannon was already stirring, so Dick staggered out of the chamber, slamming the door shut.
He leaned against it for a second, catching his breath. Gloria had said his equipment was hidden under the bed in the cell next to his. Walking those few feet had him gasping for air all over again. He knelt on the floor beside the bed, uncertain he could even get up again, and slid his hand underneath until it hit a box. He dragged it out, lifting the lid. He'd missed that black and blue.
He dressed as quickly as he could while his body—head in particular—complained about what he had just done. In this condition, he had to find help, and quickly. Was it worth waiting in the cellblock for Gloria to find him, or would it be better to head to the rendezvous and meet her on the way?
What if one of Alia's agents decided to come down here to take him out as soon as the fighting started? Surely it couldn't be long now, if it hadn't already begun.
Dressed and equipped, Nightwing hauled himself into a seated position on the bed, catching his breath. He was weak and hurting, but at least he wasn't bleeding profusely or anything else that indicated he was about to die. He peered into the box, where Gloria had left one last thing:
One of Batman's low-dosage adrenaline injectors. Enough to help him get past the pain, but weaker than an EpiPen, which could cause health problems if used incorrectly.
Nightwing jammed it into his thigh. It wouldn't work for long, but at least it would get him on his feet. Now, to find Gloria before someone found him.
Homecoming Chapter 17
@iontorch @darkmagicianknight @prettybeefballs
The whole fic is a sequel to Human Connection (can be read as a standalone, but character personalities make more sense if read together)
All chapters
Read on AO3
Pairing: DickTiger
Rating: Mature
Length: 4.6k (this chapter)
Summary: Tiger didn’t want to do this.
Notes: I am very sorry. More torture, of the suffocation and electrocution varieties.
Chapter 17
Tiger had known all along this was going to happen, but that didn't mean he was ready. He could never be ready for this. Dick had been worn down by hours of being chained to that pole without food or water. There was only so much Tiger could do without arousing suspicion. Helena believed Bannon would know Tiger had helped Dick even the small amount that he had. Tiger could not bring himself to care.
Helena had a smaller office than she used to, when she was director of Spyral. She also took less pride in its condition, half-heartedly dusting it every so often when visitors were expected. There was one window, looking out at distant mountains. They were oddly hypnotising, or maybe that was simply Tiger's exhaustion leading him to stare at them for long periods of time before Helena would finally catch his attention.
Helena joined him at the window. “Can you do this?”
Tiger was unsure, but that answer would not satisfy her. “Yes.”
“It may be more difficult than anticipated,” Helena continued. “We didn't account for the deprivation treatment. He may not handle it as well as he would have otherwise.”
That had been weighing on Tiger's mind ever since he'd discovered Dick's situation a few hours ago. A tiny amount of food, water and bladder relief would not help much.
“You need to have the strength he won't have,” Helena said.
Tiger nodded curtly, eyes still fixed on the mountains. Better out there than in here. Why had he ever thought returning to Spyral had been a good idea? It was difficult to not be bitter about Bruce Wayne's behaviour now, given what it had ultimately led to. Tiger never should have let Dick become involved in this.
“Bannon is interrogating you as much as he is Dick. Remember that. Remember your cover. Do not let either of them see how much it hurts you. I'll use the time he's down there with you to break into the director's office.” The one that should've been hers, which Bannon was currently using but didn't actually own. That honour went to whoever was in charge now, whose identity Helena had taken upon herself to discover.
Bannon found the two of them in Helena's office shortly thereafter. Tiger had to fight nausea every time he saw the man. He hadn't had a single good night's rest ever since Bannon had shown his face here.
Bannon smiled horribly. “I have a job for you, Tiger.”
Tiger didn't bother asking what that was.
Bannon turned on his heel and marched out the door, evidently expecting Tiger to follow, which he did. “Our guest has provided some limited information, but his attitude irks me. I would rather not continue wasting time with his word games in order to receive scraps of information. Perhaps you can help with that.”
Tiger would have to communicate to Dick after this what Bannon wanted. Maybe if Dick acted defeated, Bannon would go easier on him. Tiger wouldn't know. He hadn't been captured for long enough to reach that point, even if it had not been far away when Dick found him.
Then again, doing that was totally outside Dick's nature. Maybe it wouldn't be convincing if one session with Tiger seemed to break him. The thought of needing more than that to convince Bannon Dick's changed attitude was real made Tiger feel sick all over again.
Stop thinking. Compartmentalise. Getting through this first trial was all that mattered right now.
Dick was still chained to the pole, pallid from both the terrible lighting and hours of restraint. His eyes sharpened when Bannon and Tiger entered, but not by much. Tiger couldn't determine whether it was the pain, hunger, thirst or just plain exhaustion that had dimmed him.
Tiger unchained Dick per Bannon's instructions and half-carried him to the chair, doing his best to ignore the half-swallowed gasp when Dick was forced to use his shoulders in any way. Tiger strapped him in, focusing on the leather straps rather than Dick's face. They both needed a moment.
Then Bannon handed Tiger a stun gun.
“Something easy for your first time with us,” said Bannon. “All you have to do is press a button when I say so.”
“You're a real asshole, you know that?” said Dick. His voice was scratchy, likely from dehydration.
“Shock him.”
Tiger touched the stun gun to Dick's torso, well away from his heart, and pressed the button for as short a moment as he dared. Dick jerked in his seat, but didn't make a sound. This time. It wouldn't take long for Dick's muscles to be exhausted in his current state. Potential burns aside, the buildup of lactic acid would, at the very least, result in aches and pains and general fatigue after this was over.
“Now, I am very interested in how you managed to seduce our friend here,” Bannon said to Dick.
Dick tried to shrug, gritting his teeth as he evidently remembered the shit his shoulders had just gone through. “Just kinda happened. Take your victories when you can, you know?”
“And...?”
Dick came visibly close to rolling his eyes. “We slept together a couple of times. Shit happens. I figured having Agent 1 on my side could be handy, so I took it further. Clearly, that ended well for me.”
Tiger consciously reminded himself there was no way Dick was about to tell the truth to Bannon. Not on this. They had been through enough to know their relationship was secure. Dick had come all the way out there for him, after all.
“Feel free to shock him again,” Bannon said. “He is being quite rude to you.”
That was less of an invitation and more of a thinly-veiled order. Tiger pressed the stun gun to Dick's torso again, earning another jerk and a grunt this time. Dick exhaled loudly afterwards, and probably wouldn't have remained upright if he wasn't strapped securely to the chair. This was wearing him out quickly, and Tiger was only doing the bare minimum.
“And how did you come to sleep together?” Bannon asked. Oddly personal.
“I don't do well with isolation. Realising that, Tiger came onto me. I rebuffed his advances, then realised it was probably a good idea. Get in his good graces.” Close to the truth, but not quite there. Sometimes it was better not to stray too far from the truth so it was easier to keep the story straight. Other times, like the Batman communication question, the further from the truth they were, the better.
“You are aware Spyral has rules about fraternisation, yes?”
“Which generally aren't enforced,” Dick pointed out. “Don't tell me no one knew I was sleeping with Agent 8 once upon a time.”
“Any other agent lovers I should be aware of?”
“If there were, you'd already know.”
“Is there a point to this?” Tiger found himself asking.
“Oh, I'm just trying to determine the true breadth of Nightwing's influence on our agents,” Bannon said mildly. “No matter. Nightwing has clearly proven he is incapable of hiding his sexual conquests.”
“I feel like I should be offended,” Dick said. Tiger wanted to tell him to shut up.
Blessedly, Bannon ignored that. “Where did you and Tiger go after leaving Spyral?” It was a question Bannon could've asked Tiger, but maybe it wasn't as fun to ask someone you weren't torturing at the present moment.
“Gotham, obviously.”
“How did you convince Tiger to leave with you?”
“Spyral was a mess after the Daedalus thing. I figured that was my best chance for getting out and, at the time, I believed Tiger to be of the same mind. Just as well he never met my family, then. I'd hate to tell the big guy I brought a traitor into the batcave.” Dick made sure to voice that last part very pointedly at Tiger, who showed no reaction. There had to be a reason for the lie. Perhaps it would be safer if Tiger didn't appear to know the identities of the Gotham vigilantes.
“You should shock him for that,” Bannon said.
Tiger had to oblige. Dick cried out once as his whole body stuttered, and groaned once it was over. Sweat was collecting at his hairline and he was breathing far too heavily for Tiger's liking.
“You should really curb that tongue of yours, Nightwing,” said Bannon. “It seems to be getting you into trouble.”
Dick opened his mouth to make a smartass reply, but apparently thought better of it at the last second. Good. Maybe they could get out of this without too much more pain.
“Ah, you're learning.” Bannon retreated to his table—Dick and Tiger both held their breath—and picked out a... plastic bag? “You might want to get that breathing under control, Nightwing, before I do it for you.”
Dick had already been quite pale due to his previous treatment. This did not help.
“Now, your fellow vigilantes in Gotham City have proven to be quite a thorn in Spyral's side,” said Bannon, shaking the bag out until it formed a more open shape. “They have proven quite adept at finding our footholds and removing agents from the city. How were they able to find our agents so easily?”
“Tiger and I were followed into the city,” Dick replied. “Not that hard to figure out there are Spyral agents there. The rest was good old-fashioned detective work.”
“They completely bypassed our dummy bases. How did they know to do that?”
Dick and Tiger had provided their share of information about operation tactics in the time they'd spent at Wayne Manor. But Tiger, according to Dick's lie, had never been there. Dick had provided useful information, but most of it had been Tiger's. Whether Bannon would believe Dick had provided all the information himself was anyone's guess.
Dick seemed to realise that, too, because he was playing hard to get with the information Bannon sought. As in, he remained completely silent. Tiger hoped he was doing that on purpose to make whatever clever lie he had seem more plausible when he finally shared it.
“Shock him. Don't stop until I say so.”
Tiger had been dreading that order. He placed the stun gun in a new position—Dick probably had a burn in the old one—and turned it on. Dick's body shook, teeth jammed together. Tiger wanted to stop already, but he couldn't. Dick grunted from the pain, again and again, louder each time. Tiger was of a mind to kill Bannon and get the both of them out of here. Fuck the mission.
When Bannon finally told him to stop, Dick barely had a moment to gasp before Bannon had shoved the bag over his head, wrapping the base tight around his neck to stop any more air from getting in. Dick jerked weakly, locked in place by the restraints and his exhaustion. Bannon only let up when Dick stopped moving.
Dick was conscious, but only barely. He sucked down air.
Bannon shoved the bag into Tiger's hands. “Now. I'm going to ask again. How did your allies know how to tell the difference between a dummy base and a real one?”
“I stole files,” Dick said quietly. He breathed. “Before.”
“Before you left Spyral?”
Dick nodded.
“What files?”
“Field ops. Decoy protocols. Agent assignment algorithms.” Dick and Tiger had taken a whole lot more than that, plus the information stored in their brains, but the less Bannon suspected Batman knew, the better.
“Of all the available files, that's all?”
“We were in a hurry.”
“And how did Batman receive this files from you?”
“Ever heard of a flash drive?” Dick bit out, apparently having recovered just enough to be pissed off by the whole situation. “I handed it to him. Did you think I used some kind of high-tech brain link to beam the information to him?”
Tiger backhanded him before he said anything else that would get him in trouble. He couldn't pull back his strength as much as he would've liked, given Dick's condition, so his head snapped right to the side. Dick closed his eyes for a moment.
“It seems you want us to hurt you,” said Bannon. Tiger wanted to say anger was a natural reaction to what he'd been through, but wasn't sure how to phrase it without sounding like he was defending Dick. Even if that was what he wanted to do.
“I am uncertain he will provide any more useful information in this state,” Tiger said, hoping that would suffice. “Additional torture would be more entertaining than useful at this time.”
“I am quite enjoying myself, I will admit. Shock him again.”
Damn it. Tiger found a new spot, still far enough from Dick's heart that it wouldn't cause immediate heart failure.
“Don't stop until I say so.”
Tiger pressed the button, half-watching Dick's reaction and half-watching Bannon putter around his table of torture implements, putting the plastic bag away, straightening his knives, stroking the hammer. Dick screamed, breathless, barely loud enough to count. Tiger had to force himself to keep doing this. Stopping now, raising suspicion, would make everything Dick had suffered utterly pointless.
Bannon packed up his kit, taking his time to make it all neat and ordered. Dick's head listed to the side, eyes closing, and it was only then that Bannon finally gave the signal to stop. He took the stun gun from Tiger's hand, sliding it into the leather toolkit.
Dick's head drooped forward, shirt transparent with sweat.
“Put him back in his cell,” Bannon said, smiling his way out the door.
Tiger reached for the nearest wrist strap, slowly feeding it out of the buckle until it was open. “Are you with me, Dick?”
Dick's breathing shifted deeper, but he didn't respond. Tiger unstrapped his other wrist and knelt to free his ankles.
It was that point Dick's breathing hitched, fingers on his uninjured hand clenching around the arm of the chair. He didn't try to move, even after his ankles were freed. Tiger leaned sideways, to try and meet Dick's eyes. They were still closed, screwed shut, lashes wet.
“He's gone, Dick,” Tiger said, as gently as he could manage when all he wanted to do was chase after Bannon and snap his neck. “We're alone. I'm sorry.”
Dick had lost track of everything as soon as the last shock had begun. He came back to himself much later, head pillowed on Tiger's chest as they lay on the bed in his cell. Dick was lying more on Tiger than the bed, which would be a problem if Bannon returned, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
Dick's whole body was wrung out. He couldn't have moved if he wanted to. A few spots on his torso burned, but dealing with them would require getting up. Evidently Tiger had been unable to do much about them while Dick had been out of it.
“Are you with me now?” Tiger asked softly.
Dick nodded, not even bothering to lift it.
“You should eat something. Have some water.” But neither of them moved. “Are you in pain?”
“A little.”
“Burns?”
Dick nodded.
Tiger sighed, his chest lifting and dropping Dick's head. “Helena will look for me soon. And scold me for wasting time down here, most likely.” Not that he was making an effort to do anything about that.
The door squeaked open. “I heard that, Tiger,” Helena said, jabbing at the communicator in her ear as she stepped inside.
“No one told you to listen in.” Tiger's response was a little snappier than usual.
Helena ignored it, resting against the bars. “Injuries?”
“Burns,” Tiger replied. “I was unable to examine them earlier.”
“You should do that now. You've already spent far too long down here.”
The look Tiger gave her could've stripped paint off the walls.
“Don't look at me like that. You're well aware it's a risk.” She was right, but Dick also didn't want Tiger going anywhere. Being alone right now was... not ideal. In his exhaustion, he had no control over his body language. His thoughts were damn well on display, which sucked because Tiger was having a hard enough time without Dick telegraphing his anxiety all over the place.
“This was a bad idea,” Tiger muttered into Dick's hair, holding him closer.
“We're committed.” Helena was doggedly sticking to being the voice of reason. Someone had to, and Dick and Tiger certainly weren't up for it. “I got into the director's office. It's as we expected. Alia is behind this.”
“Do we know when she will return here?”
“In five days.”
“It is possible she will simply order Bannon to kill Dick. We should arrange the attack to begin just before she arrives. Too soon for her to aid the defence too much, but too late to retreat.”
“I'll find the exact timing and make the arrangements. Tiger, when Dick is feeling better, help him memorise the building's layout.”
Dick had to endure this for five more days. How could a unit of time be so short and yet horribly long at the same time?
Helena rested her forehead against the bars. “Dick? Have you eaten?”
Dick shook his head.
“I'll bring you something. Tiger, check his injuries.”
Tiger pushed him into a seated position and helped him remove his shirt. Tiger had hidden a first-aid kit under the bed, since Bannon didn't seem to give a shit about the cell. All the more reason to get the attack underway before Alia arrived. She probably would care about such minute details.
Tiger cleaned the three burns from contact with the stun gun. Dick tried not to flinch, but he had little control over his body, which was aching all over as if he'd run a marathon without warming up first. Lactic acid was an asshole.
Tiger pressed his lips to Dick's bare shoulder and used stick-on bandages to cover the burns, just for a little while. Helena returned with a small amount of fruit and fresh water, plus a clean shirt. Dick didn't feel like doing much of anything, let alone eating, but he wasn't about to give either Tiger or Helena the opportunity to force it in his mouth if they had to. Which they totally would.
“Don't stay much longer,” Helena warned Tiger, taking the finished tray away with her.
Tiger helped Dick into the fresh shirt and they lay down again.
“You'll have to leave eventually,” Dick said.
“I'll leave when I'm ready,” Tiger muttered bitterly. “When you're ready.”
Dick was never going to be ready. He'd spent hours chained up, in pain and alone, and had just been tortured by the man he loved against both their wills. He wanted Tiger to stay, both for his own sake and for Tiger's.
Tiger made a slow circle on Dick's back with his palm. “Get some rest. I'll leave when you're asleep.”
Despite his exhaustion, sleep wasn't really on the cards. He was more in the mood to lie here and be miserable. Maybe it would've been kinder to make Tiger leave, knowing the man was paying very close attention to how Dick was feeling, but Dick couldn't bring himself to enact that kind of selflessness right now.
“We can do five more days,” Tiger promised.
Dick almost said he didn't want to, but that wasn't helpful, even if he'd rather have a complete nervous breakdown than spend another minute in this place. But he had to. He chose to do this.
But, fuck he hurt all over. If he never had to move his shoulders again, he would be a happy man. So far, he'd been able to lie his way out of providing accurate information that he didn't want Bannon knowing. But he couldn't rely on that. Sooner or later, his creativity would fail him. He certainly couldn't have come up with a lie if he'd been asked something sensitive at the end of today's interrogation.
Tiger cradled the back of Dick's head, resting his chin on top. “Dick. You need your rest. I will wake you in a few hours, I promise. You will need to eat small amounts at regular intervals anyway.”
Dick had managed to sleep while chained to the pole, but it seemed impossible now. He'd known this thing with Tiger was coming, but that hadn't helped. There was no way he could voice that without making Tiger feel worse than he already did.
“You're quiet,” Tiger said. Dick didn't have it in him to be a smartass, even with Tiger stating the obvious. He dislodged his head from beneath Tiger's to meet his eyes, which were full of concern. Dick managed the weakest of smiles and reached up with what little strength he had to kiss his cheek.
Bannon didn't always call on Tiger to assist in interrogations. Helena continued using Bannon's interrogation time to investigate restricted areas, passing the intel onto Batman.
Tiger, when he could afford to linger, set about helping Dick memorise the building's layout and the plan they were putting together. There weren't many points of entry available to outside forces, so the bulk of the family would be entering through the front door, with a few slipping in through other, smaller, entrances. They would wait to enter until Bannon was with Dick and Tiger would then help him take the man out.
“And what about those allies you and Helena were going on about?” Dick was propped up against the wall on the bed, nursing a nosebleed into a tissue. Nothing broken. It would pass soon enough.
“Most are not interested in fighting either side,” Tiger said, passing Dick a fresh tissue. “Those people have escape routes planned. A small group have agreed to assist. Gloria is one of them.”
“Huh. Been a while. Would've thought she'd want to escape so she could see her kids again.”
“She wishes to make sure we succeed. Desertion will put her family at risk if we do not.”
“Fair enough.” Dick pushed the map further down his legs, the better to see with his tissue-holding hand in the way.
“How's the bleeding?”
Dick dabbed at his nostrils. “Getting better.”
“Did you tell him anything?”
“He asked how much Batman knew about hypnos. He had to make this nosebleed happen before I answered, so I guess I convinced him Batman hasn't had a chance to study them properly.”
Tiger dampened a tissue in the sink and passed it to Dick, who cleaned the dried blood off his face. Tiger took the tissue from his hands after a few moments, taking over the task. That was fine by Dick. His shoulder had been killing him anyway.
“Will you be able to fight when the time comes?” Tiger asked, swiping the damp tissue across the corner of Dick's mouth.
“In this state? Probably. I don't know if my answer'll be the same if I have another round with that pole.”
“Just three more days, Dick. Are your shoulders still hurting?”
“When I use them too much, yeah. I probably won't notice it as much in the middle of a fight.”
Tiger threw the tissue into the toilet on the other side of the cell and hid the map underneath the mattress. “I'll try to get to you as soon as the fighting starts. You will not be left alone if I can help it.”
“I'm starting to suspect I'm more of a hindrance than a help.”
Tiger cupped Dick's cheeks between his palms. “No. You are providing a useful distraction for Helena's investigation and, to my shame, I prefer having you close, even under these circumstances.”
“You smooth talker, you.”
Tiger made a sound of disgust. “You must be feeling better.”
“For the moment.”
Tiger pressed his lips to Dick's forehead. “I love you. I'm sorry I put you in this situation.”
“Well, to be fair, you did try to stop me.” Dick could just feel Tiger wanting to argue, but he kept quiet. They were both doing a lot of that. Some things were better left unsaid, especially in a situation such as this.
They kissed instead of arguing. The door squeaked and they separated, which was just as well, because Bannon had returned.
“Well, isn't this cosy?” The man looked like he'd just won the lottery. Fuck.
“Someone had to clean up the mess you made of my face,” Dick shot back immediately. It wasn't technically a lie, so...
“Still mouthing off, Nightwing? Haven't you learned your lesson yet?”
“I'm a slow learner.”
Tiger shot him a look that clearly said shut up. It was probably in Dick's best interests, but he'd never been good at looking after himself.
“Who did you think was patching me up after you were done with me, Bannon?”
That just made Bannon smile even wider. “You seem awfully keen to defend your betrayer.”
“I don't see many people down here and you're a grade-A asshole, so I don't have an endless supply of people who'll patch me up and talk to me every so often.”
“Guilty conscience, Tiger?”
Tiger always seemed to struggle with answering back to Bannon, which was no surprise. “A healthy prisoner will last longer,” he finally came out with. “The longer he survives, the more information he will give us.” Dick made sure to school his expression into that of hurt, though he couldn't telegraph it too much or Bannon would realise he was bullshitting. This whole plan could fall apart if Bannon stopped believing Tiger's handing Dick over to Spyral was an act of betrayal.
Bannon's face was positively gleeful. “Oh, I'm sure. Perhaps you could convince me further. But don't bruise your knuckles too quickly. Or perhaps I'll let you borrow my brass ones.”
That was all the warning Dick got before Bannon had Tiger deliver him to the torture chamber once again.
Multiple sessions in one day wore Dick down, breaking him faster. Perhaps that was why Bannon always made sure he'd had his own session before he brought Tiger in to do the dirty work.
This time, however, Tiger was not permitted to stay and tend to Dick's medical needs. Dick's head throbbed as he lay in bed, lights out in a mimicry of night. No dinner had come, but Dick probably couldn't have eaten anyway. His ribs were definitely bruised and there had been a few gut punches that made him want to vomit.
But the door squeaked on its noisy hinges. Dick thought, for a second, maybe Tiger had managed to get away for a moment, but...
“Hello, dear.”
“Gloria?”
“Matron sent me.” A flashlight clicked on and she unlocked the cell door. “Your partner couldn't get away from Bannon. I only have a moment, so show me where you're hurt.”
“Not much you can do without ice,” Dick said, lifting his shirt to show her the bruises on his torso. Gloria produced a handful of washcloths.
“These won't work as well as ice, but better than nothing.” She dampened them in the sink, pushed Dick onto his back and laid them over the worst of the bruising. She put one over his eye, which had swollen slightly. “Whoever is bringing you breakfast will take them, but be sure to hide them just in case.”
“Do you think Bannon suspects Tiger now?”
“Bannon suspects everyone. If Tiger's position is too tenuous, I will take over his caretaking duties until the reckoning begins.” She patted his hand. “Matron tells me you're Nightwing. I take it that's your preferred name?”
“Around people who can't know my identity? Yes.”
Gloria's smile was barely visible in the thin beam from the flashlight, but it was refreshing all the same.
Homecoming Chapter 16
@iontorch @prettybeefballs @darkmagicianknight
The whole fic is a sequel to Human Connection (can be read as a standalone, but character personalities make more sense if read together)
All chapters
Read on AO3
Pairing: DickTiger
Rating: Mature
Length: 4.3k (this chapter)
Summary: The interrogator interrogates.
Notes: There is a lot of torture here. Pain-based and deprivation-based.
Chapter 16
The first few hours of Dick’s captivity were incredibly boring. Not one visitor. Not even a spot of torture. Then again, he and Tiger had arrived in the dark hours of the morning. It was a miracle Bannon had even deigned to acknowledge their presence. Guess it wasn’t every day you got to manipulate a former victim of yours to give someone else up for the same treatment.
The mattress was thin, doing little to soften the metal frame digging into Dick’s back. He’d already counted all the cracks on the ceiling and had started on the little black specks of indeterminate origin. Mould? Spiders? A visual representation of humanity’s collective soul?
Well, at least it could be washed—or painted over—if that were the case. It was a nice thought. A few dark spots here and there didn’t have to ruin everything.
The door to the cell block creaked open and Tiger slipped inside. He looked even more worn than he had the last time Dick had seen him only a few hours ago.
“Bannon will be here soon,” Tiger said, sliding a key card into the lock on Dick’s cell door. “He has tasked me with moving you into the…” He trailed off, nudging the door open.
Dick rolled off the bed. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”
Tiger didn’t bother cuffing him for the short trip to the door at the other end of the cell block, keeping a perfunctory grip on his arm instead.
The torture chamber was the same concrete as the previous room, which shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but Dick had somehow expected something a little more… medieval. A flaming torch on the wall rather than fluorescent ceiling lights, perhaps?
Tiger sat him in the metal chair in the centre of the room, strapping his wrists in place. There was also a thin metal pole nearby with scrapes along its surface. Probably from cuffed victims writhing in agony. Happy thought.
“Bannon’s preferences vary,” Tiger muttered, strapping Dick’s ankles to the chair. “He does like to leave his victims chained to the pole for extended periods of time, but that is not his plan today, it would seem.”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll be best friends by the time I kick his head in at the end of all this.”
“Do not run your mouth in front of him.”
Dick tended to run his mouth whenever people tried to interrogate him. He wasn’t sure if it was a problem or not. Sometimes it got him in trouble, but other times it distracted the interrogator from whatever they’d been trying to get out of him. A Spyral interrogator probably wouldn’t be so easily led, however.
Tiger must’ve seen something in his face, because he gripped Dick’s shoulders. “Listen. You cannot afford to be seriously injured by angering him.”
“I’ll do my best, but if he’s asking for information I’m not willing to give, there’s gonna be hell to pay anyway.”
“Bannon does not always inflict pain for the sake of information.” Tiger’s grip on his shoulders was bordering on painful. “Sometimes he does it for fun.”
“Wonderful.” Dick had seen enough of that shit with people like the Joker back home. At least it was familiar. And maybe he could learn a thing or two while he suffered this man’s hospitality. No one ever said interrogations had to be one way. In fact, Batman had trained him from day one to turn them into sources of information. There had even been occasions when they had let themselves be captured on purpose just so they could gather intel.
“I’ll be careful,” Dick promised. He’d be no use to them if he aggravated his captor enough for receive an injury severe enough to render him unable to fight.
“You had better.” Tiger pressed his lips to Dick’s forehead, just for a moment. “I will do what I can to protect you.”
On any other day, Dick might’ve teased him for that protectiveness. But, in this situation, he’d need all the help he could get.
“I’ll try not to make your job any harder than it has to be.”
Tiger had to leave quickly after that, evidently not wanting to cross paths with Bannon when he didn’t have to. That gave Dick a few minutes to assess the situation.
The chair and the pole were the two forms of restraint available in the room. There were no windows and the door was the only way in or out. However, being so far removed from the security system and the rest of the building, it would take time for anyone to notice if someone went missing down here. That could both work for and against Dick, depending on whether he was the one missing or had caused someone to go missing.
The level of soundproofing was unclear and noises would likely echo off the rough concrete that comprised the walls, ceiling and floor, but the distance from the rest of the building also made that unnecessary anyway.
This place could either be his saviour or his undoing. Only time would tell.
Bannon’s arrival put an end to his wondering, at least for now. There was a little metal trolley in the corner, on which Bannon set a rolled up piece of leather that likely contained the tools of his trade.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Bannon said mildly, unrolling his toolkit. Dick wasn’t seated at a good enough angle to see its contents. “Had to catch up on my beauty sleep.”
“I was just thinking you looked oddly beautiful this fine morning.”
“I see captivity hasn’t curbed that tongue of yours yet,” Bannon said, running his fingers along the tools without picking any of them up. “Good.” He stepped away from the table, rolling up the sleeves on his cheap buttoned shirt. He probably had a thousand of them in the event any were ruined during torture. A little blood spray here or there, perhaps. A standard-issue Spyral t-shirt probably would’ve served him better, but clearly this guy thought he had an image to uphold.
And he probably liked walking around with the blood on him as if it made him look intimidating. Seemed like the type.
“Let’s start with something easy.”
Dick bit back a snarky comment about how he would never give away his mother’s recipes. It’d be a shame to waste that one on this asshole. At least the Joker would find it funny. Then again, he found everything funny.
“Who helped you gain access to Spyral?”
“It wasn’t hard,” Dick replied. “For a big, sneaky spy organisation, you’ll let anyone join.”
That earned him a backhand across the cheek. Subtle.
Dick rolled his eyes. “The Matron needed a new partner. I needed to disappear for a while. It worked out for both of us.” He wasn’t exactly sure how much information this guy had about his identity, aside from knowing he was Nightwing. Helena had tried to wipe all traces of identifying information about him from Spyral’s files. Best to keep the details under wraps, just in case.
“And why would someone like you be interested in such a position?”
That was a piece of information Dick was not interested in sharing. “You mean, aside from the fact I needed to disappear? Because that’d be a great motivator for most people.”
Another backhand. It stung, but wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to him. Bannon didn’t bother asking the question again. He could always be saving it for later. He had no reason to believe anyone would be coming to help Dick given that Tiger had made such a show of betraying him, so they had time to draw things out.
“I suppose I should be nice today,” Bannon said. “After all that heartbreak.”
Dick glared up at him. It wasn’t difficult, considering all the shit he had done to Tiger, even if he was angry for a different reason than Bannon believed.
“Oh, I don’t doubt your original plan was to seduce him for your own ends,” Bannon continued. “But, clearly, that didn’t work out too well for you, falling for your own game. That’s the problem with you heroic types. You can never keep your heads on straight. Spies don’t make good lovers, sweetheart.”
“Gee, I hadn’t noticed.”
“Did Batman put you up to that?”
Dick snorted. “Please. You think I’d be his first choice for that kind of mission?”
“With Tiger’s preferences, yes.”
“You seem to think we had access to more information than we actually did, buddy.” Dick leaned back in the seat best he could; not quite the lounging smugness he was going for, but it would have to do. “I hate to break it to you, but we don’t actually know all that much about Spyral.”
“You’re a better liar than I expected, Nightwing.”
Dick smiled. “It’s a gift.”
“We have plenty of time to change that.” Bannon left him there, still strapped to the chair.
Time passed in fits and starts, flowing in and out with Dick’s concentration. He hadn’t been hit all that hard yet. He was just bored as hell. Just as the thoughts of forced starvation and dehydration flitted into his mind, the door opened to deliver Tiger into the room.
He rushed forward to undo the restraints. “How long have you been sitting here?”
“Not sure. A while.” At least an hour, probably. Time was funny in this room.
“I only saw him in the hall a few minutes ago.” Tiger helped him up, gripping Dick’s arms when his legs weren’t quite ready to wake up after sitting for so long. Dick’s head ended up on his shoulder somehow. Tiger held him, just for a moment, before he led Dick back to his cell.
Dick sat on the bed, shaking out his legs, while Tiger crouched on the floor beside him. “I’m okay,” he promised. “He smacked me around a little but I’ve done worse to myself in training. He definitely thinks I’m heartbroken over your shocking betrayal.”
Tiger nodded sharply, just once. “He will attempt to use that. I may still be forced to torture you.”
“Whatever happens, I trust you.”
Tiger lowered his gaze, hand reaching up to squeeze Dick’s. “Helena and I will continue to gather what intel we can. We may still have an ally or two left in the building.”
“Be careful. They could’ve been turned.”
“I know.” Tiger kissed his knuckles. “I should leave. The longer I am absent, the greater the suspicion upon our ruse. I have been assigned caretaking duties, so I will be along soon enough with a meal.”
“Assuming Bannon doesn’t decide to try the good old food and water deprivation trick.”
“He better not,” Tiger said darkly. He left shortly thereafter. Dick lay down, feeling his cheek throb from the blows Bannon had inflicted. Annoying, unpleasant, but could’ve been worse. Would most certainly get worse before this was all over. Of that, Dick had no doubt.
However, he would continue to hope. Positive thinking could do wonders.
Tiger couldn’t linger when he came to provide… well, it was probably breakfast. Or lunch. Dick still couldn’t get a handle on the time. He’d figure it out come dinner time, probably.
Bannon left him alone for the rest of that day. Dick’s internal clock reoriented itself at dinner as expected. Tiger turned out the lights for sleep, which meant it had to be night. Surely. Unless they were trying to confuse him on purpose. Nah. It was night.
Tiger was quiet when he brought Dick back to the torture chamber shortly after an unsatisfying breakfast of soggy cornflakes. Dick was almost more offended by that than the whole being a prisoner thing.
He’d more or less forgotten about it by the time Bannon showed up in a fresh white shirt. “I take it your accommodations are comfortable?”
“Oh, absolutely. The bars are a nice touch.”
“You’re far more interesting to talk to than your former partner,” Bannon said lightly, back slightly turned as he sorted through his toolkit of terror.
“A sense of humour goes a long way.”
Bannon picked up a hammer and Dick was suddenly all-too-aware that his hands were strapped in place. A smash to the fingers would be unavoidable. Dick took a deep breath and didn’t let that spike of fear show on his face. He’d faced worse than this. He’d had a bomb strapped to him and had to be killed just to stop it from blowing. This was nothing.
Bannon bounced the hammer in his hand. “I think you know what this is capable of. Shall we talk?”
“You’re a lot more polite than you were to Tiger.”
“I was pressed for time. Here? I have all the time in the world. You will talk, one way or another, even if I have to wear you down little-by-little.” He rested the hammer against the fingers of Dick’s left hand. Nice of him. “Now. How exactly did a vigilante get access to Spyral?”
“Quite easily, really. I already told you Helena was looking for a new partner and that I needed to disappear. I had a number of useful skills already, so it wasn’t the same as training a newbie from scratch. Hell of a culture shock, though.”
“Did Batman send you here?”
That was pretty obvious, so Dick let that piece of information go. “Who else would?”
“How did you communicate with him?”
That information, however, was not negotiable. Helena had access to similar technology to keep Batman informed, so he couldn’t afford to say anything. Dick smiled at Bannon instead of answering, which, predictably, resulted in a thick burst of pain in his fingers. Dick grunted, but managed to curtail the rest of his reaction.
“I’ll ask again. How did you communicate with Batman?”
Dick wasn’t sure how far Bannon would go to secure this information. He needed a believeable lie. And he also needed to hold out against the torture long enough that Bannon would swallow it.
His fingers were throbbing, and the next blow was stronger. His fingers weren’t quite broken yet, but it wouldn’t take long if Bannon kept upping the force each time. He couldn’t afford to break his fingers. He needed that lie, but the pain slowed his thoughts.
Bannon asked the question again. Then, an idea. Would it be unrealistic that he possibly could get off St Hadrian’s grounds to speak to Batman personally at a nearby location? That could work. But how would they—OUCH—arrange a meeting?
“Your fingers cannot take much more,” Bannon said. “How did you communicate with Batman?”
Dick had the answer. “I snuck off the grounds every so often to brief him in person. We would arrange the next meeting then.”
“And if circumstances changed?” The hammer hovered, threatening.
Dick swallowed against pain-nausea, the throbbing in his fingers somehow igniting a sympathetic throb in his temples. “I’d pay a local to send a letter to a mailbox Batman rented under an alias in Gotham. Don’t bother asking for the location, or the alias. He stopped using them after I got out.”
“Convenient.”
“But true.” Dick wasn’t looking forward to his fingers breaking if Bannon didn’t accept that.
But Bannon stepped back and set the hammer down on the table. “It appears the Matron didn’t keep as tight a leash on her charges as she should have.”
“Minos was in charge when I got there, and we all know he was shit at his job. Matron’s takeover had a rather messy transitional period. Unavoidable, really, considering it was all quite sudden.” At least talking kept his mind off the painful throbbing in his fingers.
“You had issues with Minos?”
“Who didn’t?” He made a killer robot and tried to murder both Dick and Tiger with it. Of course he held a grudge. Dick definitely wasn’t going to volunteer any information about that, however, much less that Minos’s construction of the robot in question was the original reason Dick was assigned to infiltrate Spyral in the first place.
Mercifully, Bannon left him. Of course, his absence meant there was nothing left to distract Dick from his hand. Strapped in as he was, there was no way to relieve the pain. There was a whole heart, throbbing just in his hand, pushing burning blood through his fingers. He couldn’t bring himself to look. One of his fingernails hurt more than the others. He didn’t want to know why that was. Ignorance, in this case, was surely bliss.
Time was slow this time. Dick counted his breaths. He had to focus on something other than his hand before he lost it. It was just a hand. Nothing was broken as far as he could tell. He would be fine. Breathe.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Dick lost count three times, at which point Tiger finally came to put him out of his misery. His face was thunderous as he unstrapped Dick from the chair, not even giving him a chance to try and stand before he lifted him and carried him to the bed in his cell.
Dick sat on the edge, leaning sideways against the wall. Tiger reached for his hand, but Dick recoiled, unable to stop himself.
“I need to examine your hand,” Tiger said slowly.
Dick had to hold his breath before he could let Tiger touch it. Tiger bent each finger and Dick swore loudly in response.
“They’re not broken,” Tiger said. “This nail is severely damaged. Rinse it in the sink and then keep your hand elevated. I’ll get you some ice.”
Holding it under the water provided some relief. Tiger was back quickly, breathless, with a tied cloth full of ice cubes. Less suspicious than raiding the medical supplies, perhaps.
“Lie down.” Tiger moved Dick’s hand onto his own chest once he had, setting the ice on top. “You’ll be okay. Nothing’s broken.”
“I’m fine,” Dick said, a little croaky. Tiger helped him drink from a cold bottle of water. “Any luck finding the boss?”
“Not yet.”
“But you suspect Alia.”
“I do.” Tiger sat on the edge of the bed, resting his hand on Dick’s knee. “What did you tell Bannon?”
“Nothing dangerous. Some truths and a lie. Batman assigned me, everyone hated Minos, I made up some lies about how I communicated with Bats. Face-to-face meetings, anonymous mailboxes in Gotham.”
“Are you still in pain?”
“Not as much.” The ice had dulled it somewhat, even if he’d still prefer his fingers didn’t exist. “Will he come back today? It’s still early.” Dick couldn’t keep the trepidation out of his voice, which was the last thing Tiger needed to hear.
“Possibly. He did little to you yesterday. He may need to compensate.”
“Great.”
“You can survive this, jaanaana.” Tiger had used that word on a few occasions before. Dick had been tempted to look it up, but felt that wouldn’t be in the spirit of things.
“Are you ever going to tell me what that means?
“When we get out of here, perhaps.”
“I’ll hold you to it.” Dick really needed to learn Pashto.
Tiger definitely lingered longer than he should have, until someone else entered. Fortunately, it was only Helena.
“You’ve been down here too long,” she warned. “I could’ve been someone else.”
A muscle jumped in Tiger’s jaw, but he nodded all the same.
“Any news?” Dick asked.
“Communication with your backup has been established. Now we need to minimise it to necessary information only. I got them a schematic of the building and will pass additional information as I find it. Tiger, we need to get out of here. You can come back here at lunch.”
Tiger squeezed Dick’s knee and followed Helena out, leaving the ice behind. Dick supposed he could either hide it, or possibly not even bother, if Bannon showed up. Would he even care? Hard to say. But he’d probably figure out Dick had been icing it even if he did try to hide it. So maybe it wasn’t even worth trying. Maybe it would appear that Tiger was fucking with his emotions. That could work.
Bannon did come back sometime after lunch, only to chain Dick to the pole—hell, he even did his own dirty work this time—and leave him there with his arms twisted uncomfortably as they remained in a raised position behind him. Lovely.
Dick couldn’t be certain, but he was sure hours passed with no one looking in on him. His shoulders were prickling with pain and his back ached from trying to contort himself into a position that would relieve them. Standing didn’t work. He had to bend himself backwards in a way the pole wouldn’t quite allow, because his hands were chained too low for that. He had to keep shifting between sitting, crouching and half-standing in an attempt to find relief for short spaces of time before a different part of his body would start complaining.
It had to be past dinner time by now. Surely. Was Bannon really going the deprivation route? Could Tiger or Helena possibly help him out before it got too dire? Food and water aside, he’d have to pee sometime and he’d really rather not wet himself if at all possible. He wasn’t sure he would be given a change of clothes.
He already kinda had to pee. Not urgent yet, but that did not bode well for the hours to come. His stomach was already grumbling, throat already dry. This was going to suck.
Time passed slower when you were hungry. Or thirsty. Or needed to pee. There was a dripping sound echoing through the room, from a leak in some hidden corner somewhere. That did not help.
Dick couldn’t decide what was the best thing to focus on. If he could just pick something out of the postural discomfort, hand pain, full bladder, hunger or thirst then this all would be so much easier.
The bladder thing was definitely what he had to focus on least. And, of course, knowing that made it that much harder to think of anything else. God damn it.
Was having a penis more or less convenient in times when you had to hold your urine? There should be a study on that, if there wasn’t already. It was an important question. And one that was not helping Dick right now.
His shoulders were really starting to hurt. His hand still throbbed. And his tongue felt like sandpaper. Or like he’d eaten the entire Sahara Desert.
This was not going well. If he could just find a comfortable enough position to sleep, maybe he could get away from this for a few hours. He certainly was tired enough.
He’d have to sit for that. If his shoulders could take it. Maybe if he just closed his eyes, it’d happen eventually.
Or he could try to knock himself out on the pole. Probably ill-advised.
He couldn’t rest his head against the pole comfortably in this seated position, so he let his head droop forward instead.
It worked, at least for a time. There was something to be said for Batman’s training. Sleep where and when you can. Even when your shoulders are at risk of being removed from their sockets.
But the whole situation had only become more dire in however long he’d managed to drift off. Probably not long. But now his mouth was drier, stomach emptier, shoulders almost numb except for stabbing pains, and his bladder needed to empty yesterday.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He was going to bust a kidney or something at this rate.
And then, finally, salvation. Tiger.
“We don’t have long,” Tiger hissed, unlocking the cuffs. Dick’s arms were stiff and he needed Tiger’s help to bring them down against his sides.
“I am going to piss myself if I sit here much longer.”
Tiger hauled him to his feet and back to the cell. He leaned against the outside of the bars, watching the door while Dick relieved himself. It was painful after holding it that long. Once the urgency had died down a bit, he was able to take in his surroundings a little better. There was a tray of food and drink on his bed.
“Only have a little,” Tiger advised once Dick had finished, washed his hands and sat on the bed. “I may not be able to get you out again for a while. He’s wearing you down for something. I do not know what, but he has been very interested in my whereabouts.”
This could be the time, then. Dick took a few sips of water, ate enough food that his stomach wasn’t digesting itself. Any more could create problems if he was stuck on the pole for too long. His kidneys probably couldn’t take much more of those bladder emergencies. Whatever happened, he knew he’d have to have his wits about him. Tiger would need that from him.
“I do not know how I will fare,” Tiger said, still watching the door rather than Dick.
“Me neither. I’ll try not to traumatise you too much.”
“I share the sentiment.”
All too soon, it seemed, Tiger had to chain him back up, but he’d swapped the cuffs, apparently, because Dick was damn sure his hands hadn’t had quite that much freedom to move along the pole previously. Tiger put a finger to his lips. Message received.
The door shut behind him with echoing finality. Soon, they would both be tested. Pain was one thing, but coming from Tiger, and knowing how much it would affect the both of them, was something else.
Homecoming Chapter 14
@iontorch @prettybeefballs (you’ve changed your URL again?? :P) @bisexualdinahlance @darkmagicianknight
Guess what, guys?? I UPDATED.
The whole fic is a sequel to Human Connection (but can be read as standalone)
All chapters
Read on AO3
Pairing: DickTiger
Rating: Teen (for this chapter!! overall the smut is strong with this fic)
Length: 4.7k (this chapter)
Summary: Nightwing returns to Gotham’s skies.
Notes: Accidental hiatus is now over by some miracle. Got more free time for the next few months so I’m hoping to finish this fic before time disappears again. Enjoy the angst.
Chapter 14
Nightwing flew again, back in blue and with a nifty new design. He didn't interact with the GCPD or the public, except during rescues. He could already hear the talk, about how he had changed. Maybe he was an imposter pretending to be Nightwing. Or maybe it had turned into a legacy role like Batman.
The truth was, of course, that Nightwing was simply more cautious with people than he used to be. The recently-rectified exposure of his identity and his time in Spyral had seen to that.
Months passed without a word from Tiger. Nightwing flew almost every night, taking down the few spies with the gall to keep infesting Gotham. He also fell back into the old tradition of stopping muggings between missions. After so much time looking of his shoulder, worrying just how much he'd have to bend his morals just to stay in Spyral's good books, being the closest thing Gotham had to a Boy Scout again was downright refreshing.
He'd had the most to do with the Red Hood of late, which was odd but encouraging. The Red Hood generally avoided killing around the bats and seemed to put in a special effort around Nightwing. Maybe that was why Batman never complained Jason got to see his son more than he did.
“I'm still angry,” Dick said one night he and Jason were eating pizza on a rooftop, masks and helmet discarded for the cool night air.
“You have every right to be,” Jason replied through a mouthful of pepperoni. “The demon's asking after you again.”
“I'll arrange another joint patrol soon,” Dick promised.
“Any word from loverboy?”
“He'd kick your ass if he heard you saying that.”
“I'll take that as a no.”
Dick sighed. “Yeah, it's a no.”
“I'm sure he's fine.”
“You suck at platitudes.”
“Shut up and eat your anchovies, you disgusting human being.”
“You had anchovies the other night.”
“It's okay when I do it.”
Dick had made a point to spend time with his siblings whenever he could. Jason and Tim loved their pizza dates, though tended to bicker if Dick ever scheduled them together. Stephanie went for waffles and mashed potatoes, sometimes at the same time. Cass preferred tea dates over meals. Damian preferred to spend their time together fighting crime rather than eating, but Dick had convinced him to settle down for a late night snack a few times.
“Seriously, though,” Jason said, licking his fingers. “As much as it disgusts me to say, Tiger loves you to bits. He'll come back.”
“I feel like an army wife.” Dick tore an anchovy off his pizza, eating it by itself just to watch Jason's disgusted expression. “When will my husband return from the war?”
“Well, you're practically married to the guy.”
“Don't give me ideas.”
“Christ. You're actually considering it.” Jason threw up his hands and dived back into his pizza.
They patrolled together afterwards. It was still strange with the Red Hood. He avoided kill shots, but was all too happy to shoot people and beat them to the limits of what was survivable.
It was after one such fight, where Nightwing was tying a strip of a henchman's shirt over a gushing gunshot wound to the man's thigh, that Batman showed up.
“You're late, big guy,” Nightwing said, testing the tightness of the makeshift bandage. The henchman was out cold.
The Red Hood's face was hidden behind his helmet, so he made a show of shrugging with the entirety of his arms. “He's here for me. Making sure I'm toeing the party line or whatever. I didn't kill anyone. You can chill.”
“You're using excessive force,” Batman pointed out, gesturing to the unconscious henchman.
Hood snorted. “Right. And you never do the same.”
Nightwing could hear sirens. “We should vacate.”
They headed for the roof to watch the police search the warehouse. Nightwing crouched on the edge, watching an ambulance join the crowd of vehicles. So they had taken his suggestion to bring paramedics seriously.
“When was the last time you finished a fight without breaking someone's bones or leaving them gushing blood?” the Red Hood was saying. “I'm playing by your rules. Stop checking up on me.”
“While you're working with the family, it is my responsibility—”
“That's my job when he's with me,” Nightwing said. He'd already been privy to several of these arguments over the past few months.
“You already drove away one of your allies by being an insufferable asshole,” Hood said to Batman. “I've got even less incentive to stick around than Golden Boy did. The only reason I haven't cut and run is because someone needs to watch out for the brats living under your roof.”
“Aw, you do care,” said Nightwing, because he wanted this argument to end already.
“Shut up.”
“Is it out of your system now?” Batman asked.
“I don't know. Are you done stalking me?”
“Are you two planning to go around in circles for hours?” Nightwing interrupted. “Because I am not sitting through this again.”
The police loaded up a few henchman into their cars while the paramedics took the ones who'd suffered most from the Red Hood's bullets. Nightwing watched them drive away while Batman and the Red Hood continued bickering.
Nightwing eventually got up, fishing out his grapnel line. “Job's done. Are you two planning to patrol or should I tell everyone you're busy?”
“I'm outta here,” said the Red Hood, shooting his line for the nearest building. He swung away, leaving Nightwing and Batman alone on the roof.
“He's trying,” Nightwing said. “He doesn't need you looking over his shoulder. It just stresses him out and makes it more likely that he will kill someone.”
“I came to see you this time,” Batman admitted.
“But you couldn't resist ripping into my little brother while you were here.” Nightwing bounced the grapnel in his hand, tossing up whether to shoot the line and leave Batman standing by himself. “Did you have something to say? Crime doesn't stop because we're tongue-tied, B.”
“You still haven't heard from Tiger?”
Right. So this visit wasn't even about him. Nightwing hoped his glare showed well enough through the lenses of his mask.
“No,” he said curtly. “Anything else?” They'd had a few arguments before over this past few months, specifically about whether Tiger intended to come back at all. Nightwing wasn't in the mood for another.
“I... may have been hasty in my actions,” Batman finally said.
“Did I hear that right? Was that almost an apology?”
“Yes.” Batman shifted feet, a nervous tell. Not something he typically let people see. “I'm concerned. If something happened to him, I would feel responsible.”
Nightwing wanted to twist the knife, to tell him that yes, he would indeed be responsible if something had happened. But he needed to be the bigger person. Holding a grudge against people he cared about didn't come easily to him, and it hurt. Batman had come here to present an olive branch. Maybe it was time.
“Sorry,” he said, as calmly as he could. “I haven't heard anything. If I do, I'll let you know.”
“Thank you.” Batman pulled out his own grapnel gun. “Shall we patrol? For old time's sake?”
“Oh, all right, then.”
He was still upset about the whole situation, but that didn't mean he couldn't start to forgive. Of course, if he found out Tiger was hurt or... worse...
They stopped ten muggings and a bank robbery together before Batman had to meet with the GCPD. Nightwing soared alone around the city, losing himself in the rushing of the wind against his ears and through his hair.
He became aware of someone following him near the Narrows. Not a bat or a bird. No distinguishing marks at all, just an all-black ensemble hiding his face. But his movements were familiar.
Nightwing came to rest on a roofstop overlooking one of the few banks in Gotham that hadn't been robbed recently. Batgirl had a tip that something big was going down there soon, just not the exact date. Nightwing had a feeling, though. Maybe tonight was the night.
“I know you're there,” he said after a while.
There was a huff behind him. “I suspected as much.”
Nightwing didn't turn around, but he let a smile stretch across his face. “You're pretty handy with a grapple line. I barely had to slow down for you.”
A laugh, soft. “Barely.” A crinkle of paper. “I brought you a gift.”
“Is it food?” Nightwing backed away from the edge of the roof; Batgirl had planted cameras and sensors to keep the bank under surveillance anyway.
“Get over here and find out.”
Nightwing finally turned around. Tiger's face was hidden by a ski mask, but Dick didn't need that to know it was him.
“Black suits you,” he said, grabbing the paper bag out of his hands. “Come on.”
They ducked behind a chimney, sitting with their backs against it. Tiger rolled up his mask. He looked a little paler than usual, a little washed out, which made the bruiselike circles under his eyes seem darker than they really were.
Dick pulled cardboard cartons out of the bag, cracking one open to take a sniff. “Oh, that's the good stuff. How'd you know where to find the best Chinese in Gotham?”
Tiger gave him a tired smile. “Research.”
Dick shoved a carton into Tiger's hands. “Eat something. You look like death.”
“You flatter me.” Tiger jammed his chopsticks into the carton. “Are you angry?”
Dick had just taken a huge mouthful of noodles, forcing him to swallow before speaking. “No. I'm sure you had your reasons for not contacting me sooner.”
“I honestly cannot tell how you are feeling without seeing your eyes.”
“Oh.” Dick laughed. “Right.” He pressed a button on the side of his mask, and the lenses slid away. “Better?”
“Yes.”
Dick poked his thigh. “Didn't you once say you would never wear spandex?”
“This is not spandex.”
“It's certainly tight enough. You dog, tricking me with the best Chinese food in Gotham when the real gift is sitting right next to me in skintight... whatever material that is.” Dick could practically see the outlines of every individual muscle. Nice to see Tiger was still training hard, despite his evident exhaustion.
Tiger smirked a little. “When in Rome...”
Dick had to kiss him. It took all his willpower not to climb into his lap. The night wasn't over yet, and he would still be patrolling for another hour or so.
“Are you going to ask why I haven't contacted you?” Tiger asked.
“I was working up to it.” Dick twirled his chopsticks through the noodles. “I'm guessing things are pretty hectic.”
“They are. It took time to re-establish myself as a loyal agent. Fortunately, my affiliations with Checkmate are not common knowledge, or I would likely be dead. Even so...” Tiger let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes.
“We don't have to do this now.” Dick closed up his noodle carton and set it aside in favour of holding Tiger's hand. “You really do look tired.”
“I am tired,” Tiger admitted. He closed his own carton one-handed somehow, placing it back into the bag. “We have much to discuss. Are you still patrolling?”
“For a little longer, yeah. How much time do you have?”
“Enough.”
“Do you know where I'm staying?”
Tiger nodded.
“Of course you do, stalker.” Dick squeezed his hand and gave him the code to the apartment's security system. “Wait for me there. I won't be too long.”
“You father would have a coronary if he—”
“Don't worry about him. We only just made up, so he's not about to rock the boat.” Dick packed up their food. “Stick this in the fridge for me?”
“Leave me to my own devices and I will fall asleep.”
“Go ahead. You need it.” Dick got up, pulling Tiger to his feet.
“Wake me when you arrive,” Tiger said, accepting the bag from Dick.
“Okay.” Dick gave him one last kiss. “I'll see you soon.”
He watched Tiger shoot a line to the next building, sliding the lenses back into place. Batgirl's sensors, tied into the bank's alarm system, sent an alert to his communicator.
“I'm in the area,” Nightwing said over the comm line. “Anyone up for a little heroing?”
The whole family, minus the Red Hood, showed up to deal with the robbery. It was just as well; whoever organised this thing had hired a lot of muscle.
Nightwing nudged a goon with his foot when it was all over. “Yeah, looks like everyone's out for the count. Anyone hurt?”
A chorus of no came through his communicator. Batman put in a call to the police.
They combed through the bank, looking for any hostages they'd missed. Mostly guards and one night manager. Minor injuries. The bats gathered everyone in the atrium.
Nightwing pulled Batman aside. “So, I hate to cut and run, but an old friend just contacted me.”
“You let him into your apartment, didn't you?” Batman sounded more amused than angry.
“He's exhausted. Want me to pass anything on?”
“An apology.” Batman headed back over to the hostages, shooting over his shoulder, “Ask the others.”
At least Batman hadn't asked to visit. Even if Tiger weren't so obviously drained, he and Nightwing had a lot of catching up to do.
Nightwing asked the others as Batman suggested, mostly receiving well-wishes to pass on. Robin threatened to hunt Tiger down if he didn't show up in person soon.
It didn't take long to get back to the apartment via rooftop. Nightwing had been experimenting with different routes for months, shaving a few more seconds off his time with each new attempt.
He deactivated the security at the window and climbed into his bedroom. Tiger was sprawled facedown on the bed, snoring lightly. Dick discarded his mask and sat by him, gently shaking his bare shoulder.
“Hey,” he whispered. “It's me.”
Tiger blinked, a little blearily. “Dick?”
Dick stroked his cheek. “Just letting you know I'm here. Go back to sleep.”
Tiger dropped off within seconds. Dick left him to rest, stepping into the bathroom for a much-needed shower. It was incredible how much dirt and grime one could pick up from spending the night out in Gotham.
Afterwards, he sat in his living room in a pair of sweatpants, eating the cold remnants of his noodles in the dark. He'd left the door to the bedroom open so he could hear Tiger breathing. It was strange he could miss something he'd barely noticed on a day-to-day basis before.
While he was still up, Dick usually left the communicator in his ear, especially if he came home early. Jason's voice crackled in his ear.
“You still up, Goldilocks?”
“For the moment. Everything okay?”
“Not sure if the demon's pulling my leg or not. Apparently Tiger showed up?”
“Yeah. He brought me Chinese.”
“Well, that's romantic.”
“Aw, Jay. Don't feel left out. I treasure our pizza dates, too.”
“Fuck off.”
“Want me to say hi? When he's not snoring my apartment down.”
“Sure, whatever. Tell him he better have a good reason for waiting this long or I'll kick his ass.”
“He's been swamped,” Dick replied. “Haven't gotten much out of him yet. We'll talk more when he's had enough sleep and stopped looking like a zombie.”
“As a zombie myself, your statement offends me.”
Dick rolled his eyes “I'll tell him you said hi. Goodnight, Jay.”
“Yeah, yeah. Goodnight.” Jason cut the link.
Dick polished off the noodles and stayed up a little longer, checking his computer to make sure the rest of the family got home okay. Then he heard sheets rustling, and a dull thud.
“Tiger?” Dick pushed away from his desk, letting the momentum of his chair roll him closer to the bedroom.
Tiger appeared in the doorway, still a little out of it. “'M fine.”
“Nightmare?”
Tiger grunted in response, leaning against the doorframe. Dick got the impression it was the only thing keeping him upright.
Dick wheeled back to the computer and shut it down. “We can stay up a little longer if you need some time.”
Tiger shook his head, retreating to the darkness of the bedroom. “You need your sleep.”
“That wasn't what I asked, T.” Dick followed him to the bed, where Tiger was fumbling with the tangled sheets. “This is the earliest night I've had in months.”
“Technically, you did not ask a question at all.” Tiger finally managed to get the covers straightened out. Dick touched his shoulder, finding a new scar there. He ran his thumb along the raised ridge, feeling Tiger stiffen beneath his hand, and then forcibly relax again.
“I missed you,” Dick said quietly.
Tiger lifted Dick's hand from his shoulder, kissing his fingers. “I missed you, too.”
Dick pulled him closer, stealing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “If you're sure you're okay, we can talk in the morning once you've slept enough.”
Tiger's face was barely visible, but his wry smile filtered into his voice. “I have barely returned and already you are practising your parenting skills on me again.”
“You never know what the future holds.” Dick pushed Tiger onto the bed. “The fam says hi. Bruce says sorry. Damian says you should hang out with him or he'll hunt you down. Now go to sleep.”
Dick was dimly aware when Tiger got up to pray early in the morning, and half-woke when he returned to bed, kissing Dick's forehead.
He woke properly not long before noon. The sunlight was unseasonably golden, unlike the usual silver that filtered through Gotham's clouds and smog.
Tiger was curled around him, an arm thrown over Dick's stomach. One of Dick's own arms was trapped beneath the man's body. He wasn't going anywhere in a hurry.
Dick lifted his free arm above his head, stretching out his torso best he could. Tiger shifted a little, sleeping through it. He looked a little better now, with more colour in his cheeks and some of the purple under his eyes having receded. It'd take more than a single night's sleep to fix whatever he'd been going through, but it was a start.
Tiger's face scrunched up in his sleep, and he couldn't lose the little crease between his eyebrows. He looked like that sometimes when he was under a lot of stress, unable to shake it even in sleep. Dick gently pressed his thumb to the crease until it smoothed out, slackening Tiger's entire face along with it.
That last week or so at the manor together had been the first time Dick had seen the man without that crease working its way into his sleep. Something about facing his demons, about trusting Dick enough to talk about them, had allowed Tiger to relax. He looked younger like that.
Dick was still watching him when he woke, grumbling about the light. Dick sat up to block it and Tiger rolled onto his stomach and shoved his face in the pillow.
“'Morning, sunshine.”
“Shut up.”
“That's way more coherent than I expected.”
Tiger kept his face glued to the pillow. “Would you prefer I grunted at you?”
“Depends on why you're grunting.”
Tiger huffed at him. “And you tease me for my libido.”
“Maybe I wasn't referring to sex. Maybe I have something heavy I need you to lift.”
“Lift it yourself.”
Dick leaned over, pressing his lips to the point of connection between Tiger's back and neck. “How long do we have?”
“Until the evening.” Tiger rolled onto his back. “Your breath is disgusting.”
“You're no better.”
Tiger sat up, pushing Dick over. “I am not doing this on an empty stomach.”
“Doing what?” Dick asked innocently.
Tiger grumbled under his breath and shut himself in the en suite. Dick laughed at him, loud enough to carry through the door on purpose, and went to the kitchen to find his instant pancake batter. He just really wanted pancakes this morning.
Dick was setting a plate of slightly misshapen pancakes on the shitty card table when Tiger emerged from the bedroom, hair slightly damp. He still hadn't bothered to put on a shirt. Dick was okay with that.
“I expected cereal.”
“Oh, these aren't for you. They're all mine. The Cheerios are in the pantry.”
Tiger fell into the nearest dining chair. “Funny.”
Dick dropped a few pancakes onto Tiger's plate. “I try.”
Tiger sighed. “Just sit down.”
Dick felt a surge of affection for him then, in the way he would get so exasperated at Dick's antics and resort to bossing him around to cope with it, knowing full well Dick wouldn't listen to him half the time. And all the times he resorted to gruffness when it was too hard to process everything he was feeling, or when he was desperately close to laughing but still holding onto that final scrap of seriousness before he tipped over the edge.
Tiger raised an eyebrow. “You're staring.”
Dick's throat squeezed and he had to laugh through it to stave off the tears. He wasn't particularly successful. Tiger's throat bobbed as he swallowed, lips pressed tightly together, eyes like smashed glass. The whole of him was like that in a way; even more dangerous when damaged.
“Don't,” Tiger croaked. That danger was written all over his face; he was doing no better than Dick was, but where Dick was more than capable of softening himself for the people he loved, Tiger had to work at it. Whatever ordeal he had been suffering had evidently taken the strength out of him.
Dick breathed, finding a smile. “I love you.”
Tiger gripped the edge of the table, the corners of his mouth thinned into daggers. Dick dragged his chair close and sat down, gently covering Tiger's fist with his hand. He didn't expect him to say anything back; everything Tiger had was devoted to keeping himself from shattering, leaving no energy behind to find that gentle place that had started to become easier for him the longer they were together. The months apart—whatever he'd suffered—had robbed him of that ease.
“It's all right,” Dick assured him. “I know you feel the same.”
Then something in Tiger did break after all, hand spasming against the table. He closed his eyes, taking in a shuddering breath. Dick stroked his knuckles.
“I can't—you deserve—”
“Shh.”
“But I—”
“Don't,” Dick said firmly. “I know it's hard for you. We'll get back to that place eventually. You don't have to force it for my sake.” With his free hand, he pinned a few pancakes with his fork and transferred them to a second plate. “Eat something. Then you can tell me what you came here to say.”
Tiger ate silently, staring into his plate. Dick didn't want him to go back to Spyral again, if this was the result. That new scar on his shoulder was bright and awful in the daylight, but Dick dutifully waited until they'd both finished eating and Tiger had insisted he help Dick wash up. There was no arguing with him in this state, so Dick handed him the towel for drying.
Dick tried to keep the question casual, making sure neither of them were holding anything breakable in the midst of the washing up. “What happened to your shoulder?”
“Infighting,” Tiger muttered, twisting the towel around in his fists. They were shaking.
“Honey...”
“The man who tortured me...” Tiger swayed, just the tiniest amount, but steadied himself before Dick could reach out to grab him. “He's Spyral. Part of a rival faction.”
“He gave you that scar?”
Tiger nodded. The rest of his body was frozen, tight as a coiled spring. No wonder he was so messed up.
Dick gently freed the towel from his hands. “Go lie down. I'll finish up.”
“I can—”
“There's not much left to do.” Dick slipped his hand into one of Tiger's, squeezing when the man provided no resistance. “I don't want you going back to Spyral just as tired as when you left.”
Tiger was silent when he finally shuffled out of the room. Dick breathed and focused on the washing. He had to keep himself in one piece. Knowing Tiger had recently faced his torturer again—and possibly came off worse—it was absolutely vital that he became as stabilising an influence as he could be.
Tiger was flat on his back, staring at the ceiling from the bed when Dick joined him and perched on the edge. He didn't pull away when Dick held his hand again, but he didn't particularly react either.
“I'm sorry,” Tiger muttered. “I didn't want to be like this.” His lips cracked into the most brittle of smiles and it was almost worse than watching them turn into daggers. “I wanted this to be...” He laughed. Sharp and broken. “Happy. I wanted this to be happy.”
Dick leaned in, pressing his lips to Tiger's forehead. “You don't have to put on an act with me. I want to see how you're really feeling.”
“Terrible.”
Dick climbed onto the bed properly, curling around Tiger's body as if he could somehow form a protective cocoon against everything outside this room. “Wanna talk about it?”
Tiger shook his head. “There are more pressing matters. I need your help.”
“What can I do?” Dick could almost hear Bruce's voice in the back of his mind, telling him not to bow to the needs of others without hesitation. But Bruce was a large part of why they were in this mess in the first place, so he really wasn't the greatest person to listen to right now.
Tiger found just enough softness to smooth the sharp edges in his eyes. “I need you to come back with me.”
“I don't know how much use I'll be, sweetheart.” Dick would go back in a heartbeat if there was a way he could be useful, but the spy game wasn't something that came naturally to him. But if Tiger was asking, that had to mean he was confident Dick could do something.
Tiger closed his eyes again. He didn't speak for a while. Dick was almost convinced he was never going to speak again. He would've done anything in that moment to pull that pain out of him. Stroking Tiger's hair was a good start.
“I didn't want to drag you into this,” Tiger finally said, quietly.
“It's okay,” Dick soothed. “I want to help.”
“It's not. I made a promise.”
“You said you wouldn't bring me back into it unless absolutely necessary,” Dick reminded him. “I know you. You wouldn't ask me to do this unless you thought it was.”
Tiger opened his eyes at last, but Dick almost wished he hadn't, pained as they were. “The situation is delicate,” he said, voice rough but pretending it wasn't. “You'll need to pose as a prisoner. The other agents—the few we have left—are suspicious of newcomers.”
Dick nodded. “I can deal with that. What do you need me to do?”
“Helena cannot hold onto control for much longer. We need to convince her to shut it all down, before we are overrun by the rival factions. Agents are abandoning us for our rivals every day.”
“We'll need more help than just me,” Dick said.
“Yes. We need your family.”
“I'll talk to them tonight.”
“If you can convince them.” Tiger breathed deeply. “Understandable if you cannot. I would be skeptical in their position.”
“I'll convince them.” Dick was going in to help Tiger no matter what. The family wouldn't let him go in alone, not unless they wanted him to die for real this time.
Tiger closed his fingers around Dick's wrist, still stroking his hair. “Thank you.” Another deep breath, eyes shut for a moment. “I love you.” It was the calmest he'd sounded all day.
Dick kissed him then, unable to bring himself to move away even when they stopped for a moment. “We have a few more hours. Feel like catching up?”
Tiger lifted his head just enough to press their foreheads together. “Yes.” He squeezed Dick's wrist. “Please.”
Dick: Are you a big spoon or a little spoon?
Tiger: I'm a knife.
Homecoming Chapter 13
@iontorch @bisexualdinahlance @darkmagicianknight @prettydamianwayne
The whole fic is a sequel to Human Connection (but can be read as standalone)
All chapters
Read on AO3
Pairing: DickTiger
Rating: Explicit (again I bring sex)
Length: 3.2k (this chapter)
Summary: Bruce had spoken to Tiger about something. But what?
Notes: A bit shorter than average, but it ended in the right spot, I think.
Months Ago
Dick and Tiger had holed up in the foreman's office of an abandoned warehouse in the steel district of this city. There was already a mattress on the floor and the desk had been pushed to the wall by its prior tenant.
“I keep a few safehouses across the country,” Tiger said, dumping their bags by the bed. “No one knows about this one.”
Dick toed off his shoes. “Perfect.”
They'd had to run from another pursuer today. The encounters seemed to be happening more and more often. Dick had the distinct feeling of a noose tightening around his neck. They hadn't slept much the past few days, too preoccupied with travelling as far as possible. Tiger had finally thrown in the towel this morning and dumped their car. Dick had already made arrangements to grab a new one at the wreckers.
“I know another place we can go if need be,” Dick said. “Across town, near the wrecking yard.”
Tiger unwound his lungee and set it inside a bag. “Good.”
They undressed quietly, stepping into a small washroom. Mercifully, it still had running water so they could clean up after days on the road. Dick felt marginally more human when he was clean.
“We can purchase more supplies tomorrow,” Tiger said, running a washcloth under the tap.
“Staying in tonight?” Dick kissed Tiger's damp shoulder.
“Yes.” Tiger lifted Dick's chin, and they kissed properly. “I bought lubricant at our last stop.”
“So romantic.”
“There is no time for romance,” Tiger pointed out.
“True.” It was a testament to how little they'd been able to touch each other lately that even the thought of sex was enough to get Dick started.
Tiger dug his fingers into Dick's hips, pressing his lips to the man's throat. Dick melted against him, offering no resistance when Tiger pulled him against his chest. And other areas.
“Enough romance?” Tiger whispered against Dick's skin.
“Works for me.”
The mattress was firmer than Dick was used to, but that just meant more leverage. He'd become very adaptable since the first time they'd fucked. Tiger blanketed him with his own body, warm as always.
They started slow, arms and legs squeezing in close, rocking gently as the heat built. Dick stroked Tiger's hair.
“I've missed this,” he whispered. “Us.”
Tiger kissed his face. Dick took that as agreement. He hitched his legs higher up Tiger's waist, bettering the angle. Tiger wasn't hitting the right spot yet, probably on purpose. They had hours to kill. No need to rush. Dick was happy lying under Tiger for however long it took.
Tiger deepened his thrusts, taking advantage of Dick's adjustment. Dick felt Tiger's back muscles rippling under his hands. Sex with Tiger was a mess of feelings, from the physical to the emotional to the downright spiritual at times. Dick loved letting it all wash over him, overwhelm him. And if he could make Tiger feel a little of what the man made him feel, all the better.
It was hard to get much noise out of Tiger at first, always starting with half-aborted grunts and groans. Dick prided himself on getting him to open up. It got easier every time, even if Dick would always be the louder of the pair.
“You feel...” Tiger trailed off, biting his moan in half.
Dick laughed, which brought a whole new series of sensations that left the two of them breathless. “It's been a while, hey?”
“Mm.” Tiger hid his face for a moment, pressing their cheeks together.
“This is good lube. What brand was it?”
Tiger groaned in earnest, kissing Dick just to shut him up. Ever since he'd learned Dick would happily stop talking when he did that, he had been using it to get his way during all manner of both appropriate and inappropriate moments.
Maybe Dick even chattered incessantly at times just to make him do it.
Tiger finally hit the right spot, knocking a moan out of Dick. He smirked, way too proud of himself for picking the right moment.
Dick grinned back. “You gonna keep looking pleased with yourself or are you gonna fuck me properly?”
“And what do you call properly?”
“Well, I haven't screamed yet. Chop chop.”
“As you wish.”
It took Tiger eighty-two seconds to make Dick scream. Another thirty to make him come. Tiger needed another ten to join him.
They lay entwined together afterwards. “Please tell me you did not time us again.”
Dick snorted. “Sorry.”
“At least you did not use a stopwatch this time...”
“Hey, I'm just trying to spice things up.”
Tiger pinched his ass. “You are insufferable.”
“You still love me.”
“Yes. And you love me.”
“Yep. I feel sorry for you.”
Tiger rolled his eyes. “Don't. Despite your inability to shut up and your tendency to bring ridiculous practices into the bedroom, I do enjoy your company.”
“Aww. I enjoy your company, too.” Dick draped himself across Tiger's body—still hot like a furnace—and peppered kisses across his face until he got a laugh out of him.
Tiger's eyes were soft. “You should sleep.”
“Prayer time?”
Tiger kissed Dick's forehead. “I will return. Go to sleep.” He threw a blanket over Dick as he got out of bed. Dick shut his eyes dutifully, dimly aware of Tiger moving around the space.
He half-woke when Tiger returned to bed, and again when he got up in the morning.
“Shh,” Tiger whispered. A hand brushing through Dick's hair. “Go back to sleep. I will be back with supplies.”
Dick grumbled out some response even he wasn't able to translate. Tiger chuckled warmly and traced a finger down Dick's nose.
Then, he was gone.
Now
Tiger wasn't in bed when Dick woke in the morning. That wasn't so unusual, especially when he was feeling restless or the nightmares had been particularly brutal the previous night. The nightmares had been there, of course, but Dick hadn't thought them the worst of the bunch. Maybe he'd misjudged.
Tiger wasn't in the gym or the prayer room, nor was he in the dining room. Dick tried not to let it worry him. He'd keep looking after breakfast. He was alone at the table today. Had something happened on patrol?
“Everyone is fine,” Alfred assured him, pouring a glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice for him.
“Thanks, Alfie.” On both accounts. Dick sipped his juice, tapping his fingernail against the glass as he pondered where exactly Tiger could be. If he was tired, he could have dozed off in one of the dozen or so sitting rooms. Or maybe he just wanted space to think. A house full of people could get too much for him sometimes.
The rest of the family gradually filed in for breakfast. Bruce didn't show.
“I think he and Jason had a fight or something,” Tim said, pouring his usual cup of coffee. “I don't know. Ask Jason.”
“Yeah, ask me.” Jason was the last of the family to show up. There was something in his expression Dick didn't like, something that made Dick abandon his breakfast to drag his brother out of the dining room.
“Is everything all right?” Dick asked him.
“Not really,” Jason admitted, pulling an envelope out of his pocket. “I guess he didn't tell you.”
“Who?”
“Bruce. Or Tiger.”
“Tiger?” Now Dick really was concerned.
Jason passed him the envelope. “You should hear it from him. Or read it, I guess. There was a...” He shook his head. “Just read the thing.”
The envelope had been tucked closed rather than sealed. Dick pulled a slip of paper out. He didn't often see Tiger's handwriting—the man could write in both perfect cursive and the most horrific chicken scratch Dick had ever seen—but he still recognised it on sight. The handwriting was rushed, closer to his chicken scratch reserved for unofficial messages, covered in crossings-out. Tiger typically rewrote letters to hide such errors, but not this one, apparently.
Dick,
I am sorry you have to find out like this. Your father knows I communicated with Helena. If you are reading this, then he has demanded requested that I leave. I have entrusted this letter to Jason. He has promised to watch the situation in case I do not have the chance to say goodbye in person.
I am returning to Spyral with Helena. Together, we will find out who followed us and who tortured me. If need be, I will ask for your assistance but I do not wish to bring you back unless it is absolutely necessary. While you made a decent good spy, I understand it is not your natural inclination and I do not wish to cause you further anguish.
We will see each other again. I promise. I have no desire to remain separated from you any longer than necessary. Your father has your best interests at heart and I understand why he may wish me to leave. I hope the news is not too distressing.
Regards
With love,
Tiger
“God damn it,” Dick muttered. He folded the letter and put it away before he gave into the temptation to rip the thing.
“Yeah,” Jason said. There was a tightness in his jaw that betrayed how much the situation was affecting him personally. “Tiger caught me before I left for patrol and asked me to pass that on to you if he was forced to leave without saying goodbye. Want me to have a few words with Bruce?”
“That won't be necessary. I'll do it myself.”
“Hey, I can back you up if you want. I'm always happy to rip the big guy a new one.”
“You're bigger than him, Jason.”
“So?”
“Whatever. Beside the point.” Dick wasn't about to drag Bruce out of bed for this. He had a more... dignified response in mind. “We'll wait for him to get up. Then I'm having words with him. Come along if you want. I can't be bothered stopping you and dealing with him at the same time.”
Dick didn't want to examine his feelings too deeply. It felt familiar, echoing the time he'd found out Tiger had been abducted. He shut that down before it consumed him. This wasn't the same. He had a good idea where Tiger was. Helena would watch his back. He had to trust the two of them to look after each other until Dick found them again. Or, more likely, they found him.
He just had to deal with the more immediate issue of Bruce. Shit.
Jason put a hand on Dick's shoulder, squeezing gently. “Hey, I'm sorry this happened.”
Dick couldn't let his brain linger on apologies right now, or he'd probably break down. “Do you know why Bruce kicked him out?”
“Yeah,” Jason said calmly. “Tiger told me.”
“And you're not mad about it?” Dick found that hard to believe.
Jason shrugged. “I've done worse things. Hell, Bruce has done worse things. Seems hypocritical.”
“Who would've guessed you'd be the most level-headed out of the two of us...”
“I'm always more level-headed than you.” Jason's tone was very deliberately light. Maybe even joking.
“As if.” Dick didn't have it in him to laugh. After everything he and Tiger had been through, and this was how things were going down.
Dick had a lot of resentment towards Bruce that he'd bitten back during this whole ordeal. But fuck it. Now was the time to let it all loose.
Months Ago
Tiger wasn't back when Dick woke. Dick washed up and dressed before he let himself worry. Maybe it hadn't been that long? Except the light seemed different now. Dick scrambled for his watch. It was past noon. Tiger definitely should have been back by now. They hadn't needed too many supplies, just some food and maybe more medical supplies in case something went wrong.
Dick couldn't shake the feeling something had, in fact, gone very wrong.
They'd kept an eye out for stores on the way to the safehouse. There was a convenience store a few blocks away that had everything they needed.
There was a television in the corner of the room. Dick tuned into a news program while he mulled over options, packing the few things they had taken out of their bags the previous night.
He was pulled out of his thoughts almost immediately by a news story, accompanied by a picture of the very store Tiger had likely gone to.
“...the police are still investigating this armed robbery, but early reports would suggest little of value was stolen.”
Blurry CCTV footage of a group of men. It was hard to tell, but it looked like Tiger was just in frame. Shit.
Was it a robbery or a cover? Hard to say. Dick threw on a jacket and a set of hypnos, just in case, and rushed out the door, all those promises Tiger had forced him to make be damned. He couldn't just leave him.
Dick avoided people as much as possible on the way to the store. The shopkeeper was just returning from a lunch break.
“Hi,” Dick said, flashing the man a smile he hoped was nonthreatening. “I heard you had a bit of a scare this morning.”
The shopkeeper grunted, jamming a key into the lock on his register. “Ain't my first armed robbery, kid.”
“I think one of my friends might've been here when it happened,” Dick went on. “Undercover cop, if you'll believe it. He's been working on these armed robberies, but his cover may have been blown.”
“And why didn't the officers this morning tell me about this?”
“Undercover missions are on a need-to-know basis,” Dick replied. He'd anticipated resistance. Just as well he'd put in a set of hypnos. He used them now, pushing through the throbbing in his head.
“Ah. Right. Sorry about your friend.”
“Would you mind letting me take a look at the CCTV footage? I need to make sure it was him.”
“Sure, man.” The shopkeeper stepped into a small staff room on his side of the counter. Dick rounded the counter like a normal person to follow, resisting the temptation just to vault over the damn thing.
Dick watched the robbery on the man's small TV screen. That was definitely Tiger. While a few men aimed guns at the shopkeeper, a few more overran his position. Too many to resist.
“Yeah, that's him,” Dick said, watching the group leave with Tiger in their midst. “Thank you.”
“I thought he was one of them,” said the shopkeeper. “Casing the joint, you know.”
“It's all right. They wanted it to look that way. Leave it with me. I'll take care of it.” He watched the group load Tiger into a car out the front of the store, barely visible. He caught the direction they drove. That was enough to get started.
Dick returned to the safehouse to rid himself of the hypnos, his eyes bleeding profusely for several minutes. He forced himself to breathe, to not get frustrated.
Then, once more, he set out.
“If something happens to me, you leave,” Tiger had told him once. “Do not look back. Do not try to rescue me. Save yourself. Do not let them find both of us. Promise me.”
“Sorry, Tiger,” Dick murmured. “Where I come from, no man gets left behind.”
Dick didn't care how long it would take. He was bringing Tiger back, safe and in one piece.
Now
Bruce, at least, had the grace to look ashamed. “You're too close to this, Dick. He lied to you, to all of us. I do not have the luxury of simply forgiving someone who is a potential threat.”
“How many times have you forgiven me?” Jason pointed out. They were in the batcave, where Bruce had previously been designing a new batarang.
“This has nothing to do with you, Jason.”
“Tiger trusted me to make sure he wasn't forced to leave without telling Dick,” Jason replied. “When were you planning to tell him? Never?”
“I deserved to know when it happened,” Dick added. “I had to find out from a letter, B.”
“Good thing Tiger suspected you were going to kick him out, hey? What were you planning to say? That the guy snuck out in the dead of the night?”
There was something in Bruce's expression that made Dick suspect that, yes, that had been his plan. Dick had to keep breathing, deep and low, before he lost his temper. He wasn't sure it could be avoided at this point, but the longer he put it off, the more seriously Bruce would take him.
Jason had apparently drawn the same conclusion Dick had. “You're a piece of work, Bruce. You know that?”
“If it keeps this family safe, I will be anything I have to be.”
“Excuse me while I vomit.”
Dick had to say something before he exploded. “I didn't drag Tiger halfway across the country, on death's freaking door, to lose him like this, B. You can't just—this wasn't your decision alone. We all deserved to hear about it so we could talk it out like a family, not a—not a fucking dictatorship.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Are you done?”
“No. I'm not. Was this your plan all along? Play nice, get Tiger to let his guard down until you could find a good excuse to get rid of him?”
“No, Dick. It wasn't.”
“Really? Because it damn well feels like it.” So much for not losing his temper. “You've driven him back to Spyral, B.”
“That wasn't—”
“Where the hell else could he go? He didn't have anywhere else to turn! Did you even think before you jumped on the chance to get rid of him?”
“I will not have a Spyral operative living in this house,” Bruce said firmly.
“He didn't go back to Spyral until you forced him out!”
“And yet he was communicating with its leader.”
“Helena's a friend,” Dick replied. “She was looking out for us.”
“Don't be naïve.”
“Don't be paranoid.”
“Paranoia keeps people alive.”
“Yeah, if you call being friendless and alone living.” Dick started for the stairs. “I'm just—I'm done. All this talk about trusting me as an adult, planting me in fucking Spyral because you believed in me so much... nice to know you're still just as manipulative to your own family as you are to everyone else.”
“Dick, that's not...”
Dick had one foot on the bottom step. “If you trusted me, you would've talked to me. You didn't. I'm done letting you play me like a fucking fiddle.”
“I do trust you, Dick. Just not with matters like this.”
“Yeah, if you're trying to win him over,” said Jason, “that's not gonna work.”
“I'm moving out.” Dick took the next step, then the next. “You'll see me out in the field, I guess. I'll work with the rest of the family. We've still got spies in the city that need their asses kicked.”
“Make sure you say goodbye to everyone,” Jason called after him. “I ain't dealing with the demon if you hurt his feelings.”
“I'm sorry it came to this, Dick,” Bruce said. He almost sounded like he meant it.
Dick kept climbing the steps. He didn't respond. Who knew what kind of vitriol would spill from his mouth if he let it? He'd said his piece. He needed to leave before he made things worse.