Bound

It took longer than it probably should have for Dick to wake. He hovered between conciseness and nothingness, trying to break through to the other side for a time. Opening his eyes was an uphill battle. Fatigue wrapped around him like a blanket, lulling him back asleep. Dick forced himself awake. Something told him that he couldn't fall back asleep here. He felt a chill. There was something cold circling his wrists. The room that he was in also had a slight chill. His wrists were sore and felt like they were being burned due to the cold of what felt like metal rubbing against them. Dick looked down to see that he was handcuffed to a bed.

A rush of fear cleared his senses and Dick attempted to shoot up, but couldn't move more than a few inches. His eyes widened in fear. He looked around the room where he was being held. There was a slight light leaking under the door that presumably led to a hall of sorts, but, other than that, the room was dark.

Not belong able to move sent Dick into a blind panic. He began to thrash around in an attempt to escape. Realizing that he was making no leeway, he stilled himself.

"Okay, okay, be calm Dick," he told himself. "Let's figure this out."

This morning. What was he doing this morning? He had taken a week off from work and had asked Jason to cover as Nightwing for him. He had injured his ankle during patrol as a cop earlier and was taking a few days vacation to recover. He hadn't told anyone where he was going. Bruce wouldn't know he was missing. He wouldn't come for him.

Bruce wouldn't come for him. Fear flooded Dick's mind. His breathing quickened; he was panicking. Focusing on what he could control, Dick mentally checked himself over. He couldn't feel a mask and his clothes were loose, so he wasn't here as Nightwing. He was here as Dick Grayson. Why?

Dick had no idea, but since he wasn't in his suit and had no weapons there was little he could do. Even if he did break free through some marvel of flexibility, escaping would be hard. He had nothing to go on to tell him what was beyond the doors of the room. Dick Grayson wasn't known for escaping his kidnappers either.

Dick resigned himself to waiting. Hopefully help would arrive before he was lucky enough to meet his captor, but that wasn't up to him. No one even knew he was gone. Anxiety flooded his mind. The quietness of the room put him on edge. Usually, he had control of his nerves, but with the darkness of the room affecting his sight and with his hearing doing nothing to help him, they were bubbling over.

The anxiety of waiting for help was affecting his ability to hope and as time continued to drift past, the confidence of being saved that he had earlier was slowly fading away.

The door finally creaked open. Two figures entered the room, one looked small and was... being dragged? A light flickered on in the middle of the room. The figures walked into the ring of light and Dick could feel the strength leaving his body, leaving him numb.

God, no.

Not Damian.