FIC: Drifting between (2/?)
TITLE: Drifting between (2/?)
AUTHOR: Demon Faith
RATING: PG-13
CHARACTERS: Bruce/Dick, Alfred, Tim
SUMMARY: Nightwing's down, and the Batclan must pull together to avert tragedy.
WORD COUNT: 726
NOTES: As I have lots of revision to be doing, I'm writing so much faster. It's always the way.
Thank you for all your kind feedback.
Tim laid out the IV bags and started frantically opening drawers. What did he need? What could Dick possibly need? What if he didn't have it ready in time? What if Bruce…what…
"Easy, Master Tim. Just breathe now. We've all done this before."
There had been injuries before, of course, but Tim had been *there*, he'd seen him go down with his own two eyes and he'd stayed with him all the way to the Batcave. Or he'd heard the gruff tone of the Batman over the comm., saying that he was taking Dick back to the Cave; he had heard Dick's laughter in the background, or a whisper over the radio letting him know it was all okay.
All he had was Oracle, the flat metallic tones that told him…nothing. Dick could be dying, dead, and the voice would still be flat, intoning his demise as if it were the weather report.
He couldn't lose Dick too. Not after…everything, after his parents, Steph, Cass…no, he couldn't let it happen again.
The roar of the Batmobile speeding into the Cave startled him into action and he ran out to meet them, just Tim Drake, Robin all packed away, and Bruce charged out of the driver's seat, cowl back, eyes dark, lifting a blanket-smothered bundle into his arms.
"Fluids?" Bruce barked, as he marched past, Dick hanging limply in his embrace.
"All ready, sir," Alfred said, the tinge of terror lingering in his clipped words.
"Set up two lines - he's going into shock. He's definitely been drugged." Bruce's sharp words belied his gentle hands, as he set Dick down on the gurney, stripping off the blankets and starting on the clothes.
"I'll do the tox," Tim volunteered quickly and Alfred deftly drew off a vial of blood before hooking up the saline.
Running away to his computers was what he did best. Barbara would help him hide within the technology, and he could forget for one, brief moment everything that was at stake.
~
He stayed quiet, listening. They had captured him. This was terrible. Bruce would be so disappointed.
They had wires in his body, sucking out his life. He had to escape this strange floating prison, this house of horrors. Perhaps, if he was patient-
No, no! His hands seized up, then his arms, shoulders - buck, kick, just like a mule - and he was flung out of reality.
~
"It's a seizure! Lorazepam now!"
Alfred rushed to the drug cabinet, withdrawing the ampule and hurrying to Dick's bedside. Bruce had slipped his hands under the flailing head, providing a cushion of flesh to prevent further injury. Alfred slipped the drug into the IV, and after what seemed like an eternity, the seizure finally slowed and stopped.
Shaking slightly, Bruce withdrew his hands, a trail of blood creeping down his hands. "I'll…I'll bandage these," he said softly, eyes resting on Dick's face, as he moved towards the dressings. Alfred tried to ignore the raw pain behind his eyes and continued making Dick comfortable.
He finished stripping away the sweats and found the stained bandage. He peeled it off and observed the leeching wound, taking in the angry red lines marring the flaking skin. Infection. When would things ever be simple for his family?
"I will bring them to justice."
Alfred sighed softly. It was always the same. A brief of flash of panic, concern - dare he say love? - and then it was gone, buried under years of self-discipline. And Dick was rarely conscious and alert at the time, never catching those moments of naked affection that could reveal-
But a butler always kept his master's secrets. Even if they threatened to tear them all apart.
"I've got it!"
Tim ran in from the Cave proper, waving a printout in their faces. "Atropine! It's Deadly Nightshade!"
Bruce took the paper with his clumsily bandaged hands - Alfred made a note to redress them later - and scanned over the symptoms and treatment, as Alfred discretely peered over his shoulder.
"We're…" Bruce let out a breath. "We're doing everything right."
Alfred almost reassured him, patting him on the arm and telling him that Dick wouldn't care if he'd been doing everything wrong, as long as some day, soon, he actually told him that he loved him, that his affection was returned and that they could both stop pretending now.
Almost.
AUTHOR: Demon Faith
RATING: PG-13
CHARACTERS: Bruce/Dick, Alfred, Tim
SUMMARY: Nightwing's down, and the Batclan must pull together to avert tragedy.
WORD COUNT: 726
NOTES: As I have lots of revision to be doing, I'm writing so much faster. It's always the way.
Thank you for all your kind feedback.
Tim laid out the IV bags and started frantically opening drawers. What did he need? What could Dick possibly need? What if he didn't have it ready in time? What if Bruce…what…
"Easy, Master Tim. Just breathe now. We've all done this before."
There had been injuries before, of course, but Tim had been *there*, he'd seen him go down with his own two eyes and he'd stayed with him all the way to the Batcave. Or he'd heard the gruff tone of the Batman over the comm., saying that he was taking Dick back to the Cave; he had heard Dick's laughter in the background, or a whisper over the radio letting him know it was all okay.
All he had was Oracle, the flat metallic tones that told him…nothing. Dick could be dying, dead, and the voice would still be flat, intoning his demise as if it were the weather report.
He couldn't lose Dick too. Not after…everything, after his parents, Steph, Cass…no, he couldn't let it happen again.
The roar of the Batmobile speeding into the Cave startled him into action and he ran out to meet them, just Tim Drake, Robin all packed away, and Bruce charged out of the driver's seat, cowl back, eyes dark, lifting a blanket-smothered bundle into his arms.
"Fluids?" Bruce barked, as he marched past, Dick hanging limply in his embrace.
"All ready, sir," Alfred said, the tinge of terror lingering in his clipped words.
"Set up two lines - he's going into shock. He's definitely been drugged." Bruce's sharp words belied his gentle hands, as he set Dick down on the gurney, stripping off the blankets and starting on the clothes.
"I'll do the tox," Tim volunteered quickly and Alfred deftly drew off a vial of blood before hooking up the saline.
Running away to his computers was what he did best. Barbara would help him hide within the technology, and he could forget for one, brief moment everything that was at stake.
~
He stayed quiet, listening. They had captured him. This was terrible. Bruce would be so disappointed.
They had wires in his body, sucking out his life. He had to escape this strange floating prison, this house of horrors. Perhaps, if he was patient-
No, no! His hands seized up, then his arms, shoulders - buck, kick, just like a mule - and he was flung out of reality.
~
"It's a seizure! Lorazepam now!"
Alfred rushed to the drug cabinet, withdrawing the ampule and hurrying to Dick's bedside. Bruce had slipped his hands under the flailing head, providing a cushion of flesh to prevent further injury. Alfred slipped the drug into the IV, and after what seemed like an eternity, the seizure finally slowed and stopped.
Shaking slightly, Bruce withdrew his hands, a trail of blood creeping down his hands. "I'll…I'll bandage these," he said softly, eyes resting on Dick's face, as he moved towards the dressings. Alfred tried to ignore the raw pain behind his eyes and continued making Dick comfortable.
He finished stripping away the sweats and found the stained bandage. He peeled it off and observed the leeching wound, taking in the angry red lines marring the flaking skin. Infection. When would things ever be simple for his family?
"I will bring them to justice."
Alfred sighed softly. It was always the same. A brief of flash of panic, concern - dare he say love? - and then it was gone, buried under years of self-discipline. And Dick was rarely conscious and alert at the time, never catching those moments of naked affection that could reveal-
But a butler always kept his master's secrets. Even if they threatened to tear them all apart.
"I've got it!"
Tim ran in from the Cave proper, waving a printout in their faces. "Atropine! It's Deadly Nightshade!"
Bruce took the paper with his clumsily bandaged hands - Alfred made a note to redress them later - and scanned over the symptoms and treatment, as Alfred discretely peered over his shoulder.
"We're…" Bruce let out a breath. "We're doing everything right."
Alfred almost reassured him, patting him on the arm and telling him that Dick wouldn't care if he'd been doing everything wrong, as long as some day, soon, he actually told him that he loved him, that his affection was returned and that they could both stop pretending now.
Almost.