Over the next couple weeks, Dick patrolled like he usually did, occasionally running into Seabird. They would exchange some light banter that he especially missed on the quiet, lonely nights. There had been a whole week where she never showed at night, and Dick became worried something happened, she returned eventually saying that she was out of town on some personal business. He became closer and closer to trusting her.

Tonight, Nightwing had heard of some activity from a local crime lord, Blockbuster. He had fought Blockbuster many times before, foiling his plans to take over the city's criminal underground. The villain hated him and had sent assassins after him many times before. He even blamed him for his mother's death and had vowed to ruin the Nightwing's life by taking everything away from him. This time, Dick had heard a rumor of him consolidating a gang of criminals for a nefarious purpose.

Nightwing crept up on the warehouse, watching it from a distance. He tapped his mask to activate infrared and saw that there were guards outside the doors and right inside. The biggest figure, most likely Blockbuster, or his real name, Roland Desmond, was in the center of the room sitting at a table with 11 other guys. He activated x-ray vision to find the vents and remotely disabled the heat and motion sensors. Then, he quietly jumped down from his hiding spot to leap the fence.

He landed on the other side, bending his knees and immediately took off again, sneaking past the guards. He opened up a vent from the outside, crawled in, and shut it behind him, just as a guard passed it. He quietly shuffled through until he was positioned right above the table of criminals. He listened.

"I'm telllin' ya Jimmy, I say we just grab the guns and bust in there blazing."

"Oh yeah, that's genius!"

"Ya think so?"

"Oh yeah, Frankie, a genius way to get us all killed."

"Well, do you have any better ideas?"

"As a matter of fact-"

"What if we use a tank?" A new voice chimed in.

"Are you fucking high? Where the hell are we gonna get a tank?"

"My brother knows a guy in the military," someone else suggested.

"Well-"

"Enough!" A new voice, threatened. Blockbuster. "Would you idiots shut up? I already have a plan. We're going to-"

He cut himself off and before Nightwing could figure out why the vent beneath him gave and he dropped to the ground. At the last moment, he tucked into a roll and came up standing, his escrima sticks ready in hand.

It was a trap, he realized.

"Get him," Blockbuster growled.

The other criminals attacked all at once. Nightwing held them off for a while, but soon they started to overpower him. It was 11 against 1 and they didn't seem to stay down. If he stunned one with his sticks, they got right back up, although wobbly. Soon, they had him pinned down. Desmond walked to him slowly, a sinister smile on his face.

"Do you like my handiwork?" he gestured to the criminals, "Special formula so they can't feel pain. But you can, Nightwing." He spat the last word before sending a punch into his face, knocking him out.

When he came to, Dick was tied down to a chair. His jaw hurt and his utility belt and escrima sticks were gone. He inspected the rope which, he realized, was reinforced with iron. It wrapped around his waist, his chest, his legs, his biceps and his wrists. There was no getting out of this one. He lifted his head to see a criminal there, grinning at him. He spoke into a walkie-talkie.

"Yo, boss. Birdie's awake."

Almost immediately, Blockbuster walked through the door and the first guy left. Dick suddenly remembered something.

"Don't worry, your mask's still there. I wanted you to be awake when I took it off," he said, maliciously, "But first, let's have some fun."

He punched Dick in the stomach. If he could, he would have doubled over. Dick spat some blood from his mouth. "I can do this all day."

Blockbuster seemed to take that as an invitation. For the next 20 minutes, he punched Dick and taunted him, obviously enjoying it. He even took a few swipes with a knife. Then he stopped.

"I'll be back, Nightwing. By the end of the night, you'll be begging me to take your mask off." With that, he strode out of the room and Dick was left alone to groan in pain.

Suddenly, another thought came to him. Seabird. He had placed her transmitter thing in a concealed pocket on his leg. If he could just get it to bang against the leg of the chair then...There! He heard the quietest of beeps before it turned to silence. Now all there was left to do was wait.

He had only been waiting for about 5 minutes when out of nowhere, a figure dropped from the sky.

Seabird.

He almost sighed in relief.

The whites of her mask widened in horror as she quickly got to work.

"Oh my god, Nightwing. Are you okay?" she asked frantically, pulling out a knife that sliced through the ropes like butter.

"Just peachy," he groaned as she gently pulled him to his feet.

"You reckless idiot," she said, shaking her head and supporting him.

Dick grinned at her, almost it was probably more like a bloody grimace.

"Nightw-" Blockbuster came back and saw him and Seabird. He growled and then attacked.

Percy just had enough time to push Nightwing out of the way when Blockbuster sent her flying back into the wall. She barely registered Nightwing calling out her name. Next to her, she saw his discarded escrima sticks and utility belt. She fastened the belt around her, grabbed the sticks, and lunged at the villain slamming the stick into his forehead. He stumbled back and she took the opportunity to land a couple powerful kicks and punches. Even though he had super strength, Percy's newfound rage, and stunning sticks managed to knock him to the ground.

She looked like she wanted to finish him off, but she glanced back at Nightwing and ran to him, helping him up again.

"Come on, let's go, 'Wing," she urged and they limped towards the window. She fired her grappling hook through the glass and at the next building and told him to hold on. Together, they soared away.

Nightwing didn't know where she was leading him and for once, he didn't ask. He started to close his eyes, but Seabird nudged him awake.

"We're almost there," she said.

Finally, she led him down a fire escape, into a window. She laid him down on the couch.

"This is my apartment," she said before heading into another room, "One second, I'll be back."

Dick took the opportunity to look around the room. It was a simple one, with not much decoration and just the basic furniture. There were some picture frames, but they had been turned over as if they were trying to be forgotten but not lost. He respected her privacy enough not to look at them.

Seabird came back into the room carrying a bag of what looked to be medical supplies. She sat down in a chair beside him, opened the bag and took out a couple of things.

She pulled her gloves off, got a wet towel and started to wipe the blood from his face. The coolness from the cloth came as an immense relief. He couldn't help but notice how her movements were soft and careful. She was shaking her head fondly.

"What?" he asked her.

"Nothing, just," she started, before continuing, "You just seem like the person to get yourself into this kind of trouble."

He snorted good naturally. "Don't we all?"

She didn't have a response to that. He was quiet while she finished wiping his face.

Then she paused and inspected his torso. "You're going to need stitches for that cut," she observed.

"I'll do it," he assured, reaching over to look at it then immediately winced. He hoped she didn't notice but with no such luck.

"Absolutely not," she said firmly, "You're hurt."

She pulled out a needle and some medical thread, then looked back at him with a very slight blush on her cheeks.

"You're, um, going to need to take that off," she muttered.

Dick looked down and realized she was right. He reached to pull off the top part of his costume but winced again and, once again, Seabird came to his aid.

"Here, let me help."

She helped him pull off his shirt and he waited for the shock that came with seeing his scars. There was none. Instead, she looked at him sadly.

"What, no pity?" he asked, slightly bitter.

Seabird traced the scars lightly and Dick forced himself not to shiver at her warm touch.

"I have my own collection," she replied still looking down, "And I know pity doesn't help."

Dick clamped his mouth shut, but looked at her with a new light. She pulled her hand away and got to work stitching him up.

"You ok?" she asked him, as she pulled the string tight.

"If I lived through the cut, I can make it through the stitches," he replied.

After a few moments, she tied the thread and cut it off.

"There, all done," she said, finally looking up at him with a smile.

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

There was a comforting silence before she spoke up again.

"You can stay here for the night if you want, to rest up. I promise I won't touch your mask."

Dick sunk into the comforting cushions of the sofa, looked up at Seabird's almost hopeful face and threw all of Batman's training out of the window.

"Goodnight," he muttered.

The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was her smiling softly at him as she pulled a blanket over his shoulders.

AN. Comment please! and I will gladly accept suggestions if you have any.