Sick Bird.

68. Regretful.

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For the first time in years Crime Alley was silent. No crooked citizens looking for a new high or escaped convicts planning a new heist were to be seen.

The place reeked of blood, not the normal stench of forgotten crimes scenes or dripping blood of a fresh gang war, it was the tooth missing, jaw broken type of blood characteristic of only one person's rage.

"Where is he?!"

More pitiful groans and anguished screams filled the night. The petty criminals lucky not to be caught in the mess ran and hide. The police wanted nothing to do with anything, pretending not to see what they saw, skipping patrol for the night in lieu of some well deserved donuts and cups of coffee.

Only an idiot would get in his way when shit had gotten this bad, Jim Gordon had told his boys as lit up a smoke and took in a welcomed puff. He's dangerous when he gets like this, crossing the line.

Yes, the police was completely ignoring this night where the screams of criminals echoed after the sound of fist against flesh. The Commissioner hoped that tomorrow would be a better day.

"I don't know, man," a man said, stumbling over his words as he watched another member of his gang fall.

"I'm only asking you once," Batman turned from the unconscious man he held and turned to the one behind him with a clear.

"I. . . I. . ."

"Not a good enough answer." With a single punch, the Caped Crusader knocked out the last conscious member of the gang whose name got blurred in his mind. He had visited too many in the space of these few hours that he couldn't be bothered to remember this insignificant one.

Cracking his knuckles, he stepped out of the alley, mentally ticking off the Santiago gang. Come on! He couldn't have just disappeared into thin air!

He kicked the tired of the Batmobile in frustration. He was getting nowhere.

I shouldn't have left him behind.

Bruce didn't think that something could have happened when he left Dick alone with Alfred. In his mind Alfred was more than enough to keep the boy safe.

It was in surprise and horror that he came back to find a barely conscious Alfred in the Batcave. The butler had been calling him since the attack, not bothering to tend to his own wounds, but Batman's comm was off.

It was off because he didn't want any distractions. And now he might never see his little Dickie bird again...

The Dark Knight shook his head to clear his thoughts. No, he still had time. This wasn't the time to sink into despair.

Silencing the alarm of the Batmobile, he opened the doors and slid into the driver's seat. There were still more hideouts to check, Dick had to be in one of them. He had to be in Gotham. He had to...

Holding tightly onto the steering wheel, his gloves squeezed into it's leather, his eyes automatically fell on the passenger seat by him. Will Dick ever seat here again? Will Robin?

It had just dawned on him that he had lost more than his son, he had lost a part of himself.

Gritting his teeth, he started the ignition, about to drive off and leave burnt rubber in his wake. He had no time to waste on being regretful. He had already made too many mistakes these two weeks.

With his foot on the accelerator, he took a glance at the rear view mirror. "How long do you plan on staying in my car?"

"Aw, Basty Darling. I thought you'd like some help looking for the little bird." A hand crawled up his arm to rest on his chest.

Behind the mask, Bruce scowled.

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