"We've got your son," a voice says. It's robotic like it's being run through a filter and if he weren't grieving then Bruce would be more inclined to find out exactly who the voice belonged to. Yet he found he didn't have the energy which was no real surprise. Everything felt like it took too much nowadays with Batman being the only thing worth getting out of bed. He simply couldn't allow another child to die on his watch. He did, however, have the energy to feel anger wash over him, adding a particular bite to his words. 

"I have no son," he snarled before hanging up. Jason had died a little less than a month ago. He'd buried the body. How dare someone attempt to give him hope that somehow he was still alive through all that? Bruce was a man in the throws of grief but he was certainly not a fool to be played. When he had the energy, he'd trace the call but for now, he let his phone sit heavy in his hand as he dealt with the reminder that he'd lost Jason and there was no getting him back. 

I have no son.

Dick let the words wash over him. He felt sick at first but there was a small voice at the back of his mind asking why on earth he'd thought any different. The last few years between them had been filled with fighting and words they could never take back. Jason dying meant Bruce pushed him away further and he couldn't help but wonder why he was surprised to hear it. 

I have no son.

Of course, he didn't. Dick wasn't his son and if he was feeling particularly bad about it then he'd tell himself that he never was. That even when they were close, Dick was a protege at most and a kid who simply knew too much at worst. There was something nice about the conclusion he guessed. Now he knew for sure that he wasn't even close to a son figure judging by the firmness in his ex-mentor's voice. He looked between the kidnappers as they stared at the phone. They glanced at each other, evidently dumbfounded, then glanced at him before their eyes once again fell on the phone. For some reason, he felt like he was supposed to comfort them. They would've done a good job if Bruce had still cared about him. He didn't though.

If someone had told Dick this morning that he'd be in this position, he probably would've believed them because of course this would happen. Of course, a casual walk to clear his head landed him tied and gagged to a chair, forced to listen as his father figure denied any connection to him. That was just his luck. He'd apparently had it too easy lately so the universe decided to ruin a day that could've been 

"Uh. What do we do?" Kidnapper 1 asked. "Should we call again and specify? He is a foster kid."

"We definitely grabbed the right person, didn't we?" Kidnapper 2 questioned. They were masks so it was hard to pick out features but he knew 1 has a noticeable scar running over their lips. Both of their voices sounded masculine but weren't gruff with age. He assumed they were about his age, maybe a little older. 2 pulled out a phone and held it up to the acrobat's face before humming. "Definitely this guy. Call again but say his name this time." Dick rolled his eyes. Saying his name wasn't going to give them much more. Their plan to use him for ransom was officially out the window, there was no saving it now. The gag meant he couldn't voice his thoughts so he let out a low groan and tried to make himself comfortable on the rickety chair. They hadn't hurt him yet so he was going to enjoy the quiet whilst he could. 

"Let's give it a minute so he doesn't immediately hang up."

Ten minutes after receiving the mysterious phone call, he got another call from the same number. He declined it swiftly. Whoever was calling him was brave for trying again. That or they were incredibly stupid to play with him. He turned off his phone in case they once again tried to contact him. The last thing he expected was for his butler to come rushing down the stairs with the house phone in hand only a handful of minutes later.

"Master Bruce, there's a man on the phone. He claims to have your son," Alfred told him, his voice pitched slightly as though distressed but the billionaire couldn't think as to why. Wasn't it obvious that the kidnapper was just bluffing hoping to play on their panicked states? They were doing it with outdated information no less so Alfred shouldn't be as worried as he seemed. Perhaps it was an instinct thing. Maybe he'd been so panicked, having received calls like it when Bruce was a child, and briefly forgot why it couldn't be possible.

"You know better than to bother me with such matters," Bruce replied, hoping the brief silence had brought the man back to his senses. The butler frowned, taken aback by his comment and for some reason confused by it. Did he hit his head? 

"Sir, I can assure you that this is an important matter. They have your son-" 

"Jason is dead, Alfred!" Bruce stood up and snatched the phone from his hand, throwing it across the room in a fit of anger and barely registering the way the plastic cracked from where it hit the wall.

"What are you talking about?" 

"Jason is dead so how on Earth could they have my son?" The same anger he'd held before now transferred to Alfred, the butler glaring at him with something akin to disgust or disappointment.

"They have Master Richard, sir," he spat out venomously. "After all you've put that boy through, you're telling me you still deny your place as his father? Did he truly not even cross your mind when they claimed to have your son?"

Oh. 

Fuck.

"He said his kid was dead. Who the fuck are you then?" Kidnapper 2 asked. Dick shrugged, still reeling from the emotional blow of being told once again that he wasn't even considered to be Bruce's son. The only son of Bruce Wayne was dead and left behind an unwanted foster kid that had outgrown his cuteness years before. The dread of being kidnapped had long since worn off when his captors didn't make any moves to hurt him but any grip he had on the situation had loosened, forcing him to feel distant from his place in the tiny room. He couldn't get over that the person who replaced him got closer in the short time he had than Dick did in all his years of knowing Bruce. The only thing grounding him was the pain at the sides of his mouth being cut from the tight gag.

"Dude, I think he means the other kid," Kidnapper 1 suggested. "He just doesn't give a shit about the one we have either way."

"Well, what do we do about him then?" He lifts his head up to look at them but not to plead. Just to make eye contact. If they were going to kill him, he was going to make sure to look at them the entire time. 

"I don't wanna kill him," 1 said. "But we can't let him go."

"Alright, let's just take a breath. We'll go outside, have a smoke, and decide what we're doing." The pair left through the only door to the room and Dick let his head drop to his chest, fighting back tears. It shouldn't hurt this much but it did. He sort of wished he'd just been tortured or that they'd gone the route of live-streaming his kidnapping. Maybe if Bruce saw him sitting there strapped to a chair, it would've been easier for his ex-mentor to care but without seeing his face it was easy to treat him like the unwanted bother he was. He'd been lost in his spiralling thoughts when he heard the kidnappers return. Kidnapper 1 was now holding a brown bottle and he recognised the label as chloroform. He'd been knocked out enough times in his life to remember its packaging.

"We're giving you a choice here. We're going to knock you out and untie you. We will leave you the rest of the chloroform and we will lock you in here. You can overdose on the chloroform or you can starve to death," Kidnapper 1 told him. He stared at the bottle and the rag. Honestly, this would be the best option since he'd be able to pull out some Nightwing moves without them watching. He ignored that small part of him asking why he should bother. "Sorry about all this." The kidnapper doused the rag in chloroform and held it to his mouth and nose. He didn't fight it. The sooner they drugged him, the sooner they left and the sooner he'd be able to get out of wherever they dragged him.

When Dick awoke, he didn't feel the gag nor the rope pulling at his skin so he'd assumed that he'd been left as he was told. Yet he was confused to feel something soft beneath him rather than the uncomfortable chair or the cold concrete floor he'd been expecting. He wondered briefly if they'd changed their minds and returned him to his home although then he'd have to think how they knew where he lived exactly. He forced his eyes open, fighting through the thick cloud laying over his mind from the chloroform. It didn't matter how many times he got a hit of it, he still struggled to wake up afterwards. When his eyes finally did open after great effort, he was met with a white ceiling. He frowned as he dragged his gaze over it and his stomach dropped at the familiar stain he'd given it when he was younger. He'd been playing with slime and thought it'd be funny to throw it at the ceiling only for it to remain stuck there. When he finally managed to get it off, to his horror there was a green stain there. That got him grounded for three days. Slime incident aside, he still felt confused because how the hell had he ended up in his room at Wayne Manor? He didn't remember ever leaving the room he'd been confined to but maybe he'd done it in a haze? Still, that didn't explain why he came here rather than go to his apartment in Bludhaven. He pushed himself up, swallowing down nausea from suddenly being upright, before getting off the bed entirely. Whatever drove him to come here was no longer with him and it's not like his presence would be welcomed. 

As he made his way down the hall, he came face to face with Bruce. They both froze on the spot and that little kid in Dick went giddy at seeing him again. They hadn't talked since he found out Jason died and as much as they fought, he still craved the comfort the billionaire used to provide for him. Daddy issues truly were something. He got a hold of himself before he got too happy at the sight of Bruce. The man didn't care, he reminded himself, and he wasn't family. Dick's dad was dead and he shouldn't have to make do with a father figure that didn't even want him.

"I'm not doing this," Dick said as soon as he saw Bruce make a move to speak. He couldn't do it. He didn't know what to say or how to say it without blowing up and the last thing he needed right now was to give his ex-mentor a chance to lecture him on anger management. 

"I didn't know they were talking about you."

"Yeah because I'm not your kid, I get it. I understand alright? Don't fucking toy with me and pretend this is all a miscommunication because I've known you for more than a decade now. I should've been your first thought."

"I'm grieving. Jason is all I think about nowadays and you just slipped my mind-"

"Slipped your mind? Again, more than a decade of knowing each other and I simply slip your mind. You are unbelievable."

"As soon as I realised, I saved you," Bruce told him as though that made up for everything. 

"I wish you didn't," he spat back. "I can save myself. I don't need you and you don't want me so let's just go our separate ways." This was the part where Bruce was supposed to object but he didn't. He stayed quiet and fixed his gaze on the floor. "Unbelievable. Y'know I can only hope that one day you'll grieve me half as much as you do for some kid you knew for a few months." Dick knew it was a low blow and his stomach dropped when he heard the words leave him. He stormed off before he could register the fallout.