The Lines We Cross: Chapter 1

2:24 AM

"It's him. Nightwing, right?"

"He's dead."

"Nightwing is dead."

The whispers spread like wildfire through the small crowd of police officers forming on the rooftop of the Gotham PD.

It wasn't a sight that Commissioner Jim Gordon had ever wanted to see. Had ever thought he'd see. The body had been set down gently and with care, almost posed. Nightwing lay flat on his back and legs out-stretched, with one hand on his stomach and the other laying palm-up by his side. He had been deposited in a place where somebody knew it would be found by the right people; not left to rot in some back alley or forgotten yard where the murder had likely taken place.

A heavy sigh escaped Jim's lips as he took a knee beside Nightwing's body, looking down into the young man's face. There was a bruise on his cheek and one on the side of his jaw, but the rest of his body appeared to be in decent condition for a vigilante. Except for the kill shot. A bullet pierced through the black fabric at the notch at the top of his sternum. Blood was smeared down across his chest, marring the brilliant blue stripe; but it also dripped upward onto the neck, the chin, the face. It suggested that the body had been upside down, or carried over a shoulder.

The Commissioner reached up with one hand, and pushed his glasses out of the way to pinch the bridge of his nose. His eyes fell shut. He couldn't bring himself to look into the face of the dead man that he had known as a boy a second time. There was a terror that was about to be reigned down on the city.

"Don't you want to know who he is? We could take off the mask, get a little peek in-"

When the whisper reached his ears, Jim's eyes flew open.

"Nobody touches him," He growled, pushing himself back up onto his feet. "You got that?" He demanded, turning on the young officer. "Nobody. Touches. Him." When the young officer displaced his gaze, Jim too looked away.

"Boyd. Any sign of who deposited him here?" He barked, turning to look at where the Detective was squatting several yards away, over a small pile of blackened paper and string.

"Nothing but the remains of the firecracker," he said. "Or cherry bomb, of some sort." It had been the sound that alerted them that something was wrong on the rooftop. "I can analyze it-"

"No," Jim interrupted, his voice softening. He looked back down at Nightwing. The former Robin, boy-wonder. "This is out of our jurisdiction." Silence fell over the crowd of whispering officers, as they considered this. Jim paused a moment, before shrugging out of his long, fawn-colored trench coat. He laid it down over the body, using it as a temporary shroud. It didn't cover below the man's knees, but it would do for now.

"Everyone clear the deck. I have a call to make," Jim said, as he stepped over to the giant spotlight that sat in the middle of the roof. There was no pause in response this time, as every hand made for the door. Nobody wanted to be around when the Bat arrived.

Jim waited for the door to close before turning on the light. A beam was sent up onto the heavens, illuminating the area surrounding just slightly. Batman would be in for a rude awakening when he arrived without prior notice. Batman was on top of a lot of things, but Jim didn't think that this would be one of them. The body had still been warm when they found it, with no signs of rigor mortis setting in. He guessed that the young man had been killed maybe an hour ago.

Jim looked up at the sky for a moment, before walking back over to stand beside the body; to guard it himself until it was safe where it belonged.

Jim didn't hear Batman land. It was the shadow he saw out of the corner of his eye, the Dark Knight silhouetted against the oversize spotlight. His head was tilted down, slightly, and though Jim couldn't see his face he knew where he was looking.

Jim said nothing, but he stepped away from the wall he had been leaning his shoulder upon. As he moved, so did Batman. The dark mass descended down beside the shrouded one, his cape splaying out around him as he kneeled. Jim observed the faintest amount of hesitation before Batman pulled back the coat.

Already rigid muscles grew only stiffer. Batman planted a hand down firmly on the ground beside Nightwing's shoulder, his weight shifting onto it.

"Batman," Jim said, quietly, after minutes had passed and vigilante had not stirred. "We can-"

"What do you know," Batman said. His voice was almost impossibly low; each word grinding out from behind clenched teeth.

"Not much," Jim began, and in an instant Batman was on his feet, pushing the aging Commissioner back against the wall. Close as they were, Jim could still barely make out the man's face. He didn't fight back, but merely stared into the blackness where he thought the eyes would be. "We found him here, just like this, about fifty minutes ago now. Someone brought him here, and set off some crackers to alert us of his presence. That's all."

Upon considering this, Batman drew away and Jim's heels sank back down against the ground. He watched as the detective stalked away from Jim, immediately spotting the remains of the firecrackers. Batman stood over them, looking down, before he stooped and picked apiece up. Jim expected him to stow it away for safekeeping and analysis. Instead, the man crushed it in his hand.

"Do you know who is responsible?" Jim asked.

Batman didn't reply. He turned around and swiftly headed back towards them, releasing his hand. Stooping over, he pulled the rest of the Commissioner's trench coat off the body. Batman's demeanor changed as he began to pick up the body, becoming gentler than Jim ever would have thought possible. One arm under the man's knees and the other behind his back, Batman hugged the body of his former partner to his chest, and stood.

Jim had seen Batman lift men larger than Nightwing over his head before as if it was no problem, had seen him hanging onto screaming and squirming victims with one arm as he pulled them to safety. But Nightwing's weight pulled on him like lead, dragging his shoulders downward and hunching his body.

Jim said nothing as Batman turned to go. As the stooped vigilante passed close to the spotlight, Jim finally caught a glimpse of his face. Stony, with lips carved into a heavy grimace.

"We'll find who did this," Jim called, as Batman stepped up to the ledge. He shifted the body slightly, so that he had a free arm. "We'll bring him down," he said, and Batman was gone.

Jim knew they wouldn't. He would. Batman would find who was responsible, and God have mercy on their soul.

A/N: I know there's plenty of similar fics out there, but this is an idea that wouldn't leave. This isn't going to be a very long story. Next chapter will reveal what befell our poor hero. Thanks for reading!