A/N: Sorry for the delay, so without further interruption, please enjoy chapter 16!

Disclaimer: Refer to previous chapter.

If At First You Don't Succeed

By: Ada C. Eliana

Chapter 16: …Try, Try Again

"Dick! Here's the… chip," Roy said, his voice deflating from a shout into a whisper as he stared around. He had left Dick at the computer console, and he returned to find that area devoid of anyone, with the chair pushed back. "Dick!" he called, his voice echoing off the cave walls. With a sense of rising panic he turned to where Dick had stashed his gear – it was gone.

Immediately activating his com unit, he set it to Nightwing's channel. "Nightwing, come in! Arsenal to Nightwing; Nightwing, respond! Dick! Come on man, where are you?!" He received no response except silence.

"Okay, Arsenal, don't freak out," he commanded himself. "Maybe he went upstairs or something." He knew it was an implausible explanation, after all Dick knew he was coming with the computer chip. Even so, he would check the Manor.

Alfred's timely appearance saved him the trouble.

"Alfred, where's Dick?" Roy demanded.

"I was under the impression he was here," Alfred responded.

Cursing, Roy turned his com unit to Batman's signal. "Hey… uh… Batman, is Nightwing there?" he asked tentatively.

The bark that answered over the line told Roy all he needed to know.

Allowing Alfred to take over at the console and check the GPS on all of the vehicles, along with Nightwing's personal locators, Roy stood awkwardly to the side, wracking his brain for any idea of where he could have gone.

"I'm afraid the young master has deactivated the locators," Alfred announced, and Roy knew that neither he nor Alfred were surprised in the least bit.

Warehouse

Dick arrived at the warehouse in record time, filled with anxiety. The surrounding area was all boarded up buildings, and not a soul could be seen anywhere nearby. He parked his bike, and climbed off, hoping this was not some sort of trap, but relatively certain that it would be. There was just no reason he could think of for Tim to want to meet him in a place so deserted; a place where there would be no witnesses to whatever was to happen.

He approached the door. A rusted chain hung from it, but the lock had been cut off, allowing Dick easy access. He pulled it open, listening for any sounds behind it and checking behind him repeatedly. He entered the cavernous darkened space quietly, pushing the door mostly closed behind him.

He heard movement in the far corner and immediately turned his attention there. However, he realized his mistake in that moment as a group of disguised fighters dropped from the ceiling around him.

He moved into a fighting stance as they attacked, a thorough, coordinated assault. The men themselves were not the best fighters Nightwing had ever encountered; they were wearing bulky military issue body armor and their movements lacked the fluid grace of a trained martial artist. But there were many of them, and they had gotten the drop on him. Nightwing did notice that none of their assaults seemed designed to defeat him, they seemed to be trying to tire him. He fought back against the crowd, fists and feet a blur of movement. But his timing was off, his hand-eye coordination not as perfect as it should have been. His muscles burned slightly, and Dick tried to shake it off, he knew he was not in top form, but he could easily dispense of these men.

He had just downed two when he felt something sharp hit his neck. His hand slowly went up to it, and the men around him paused, watching silently. His fingers had just touched the edge of a dart when Nightwing felt his body failing him, collapsing to the ground without his consent. And then everything went dark.

Batcave

"Batman… Nightwing's not here," Roy said wearily, speaking into his communicator.

"What do you mean? Where is he?!" Batman demanded in his darkest voice. Roy winced as he listened, wishing Alfred had made this call instead of him. But the butler was too busy… hell Roy didn't know what the man was doing to be honest, he was over on the computer.

"I don't know. I came back and he was gone. He took his 'Wing gear with him, and a motorcycle. And before you ask – yes he deactivated the locator.

"What could he possibly be up to?" Batman shouted, knowing full well that Roy would not be able to answer that question.

"Maybe he's following a lead."

"No, he would've left the locator on – he knows better than that. Alright Harper, I'm coming back to the Cave," Batman sighed.

Wayne Memorial Clinic

Batman closed the communicator, holding it tightly in his hand for a moment. It was difficult enough with Tim gone rogue, for Dick to disappear in the middle of the night for no reason was just baffling. But he knew his first protégé could sometimes be erringly impulsive, especially if he felt someone he cared about were threatened. But who could have made him run out in the middle of an important investigation?

He turned and looked at Barbara and Helena, who were both unconscious and sleeping in hospital beds. Someone had initiated a brilliant plan tonight. They had captured Helena months ago, drugged her and implanted that chip in her skull. It could have been the chip or she might have been brainwashed in to attacking Barbara. If he had arrived even one minute later, things could have ended so much differently. Barbara had been moments away from hitting the pavement and dying when he showed up.

And then there was Helena. Harper explained that she had seemed un-like herself, her eyes had been glassy and she had insisted on fighting them rather than come up with a handy excuse and escape. So filled with rage, she had not taken necessary precautions to protect herself. She had set the tower on fire, and still engaged Batgirl and Arsenal in the midst of the smoke and the flames.

As for the other problem, there was Tim, who had left the Titans and returned to Gotham. He had been acting odd, acting angry with Dick and refusing to talk to him. He was distancing himself from the Bat clan, and he had officially disappeared recently. He had been interrupted while going through Tim's computer, by a series of false 'crimes-in-progress' as if someone had specifically sent him out on a wild goose chase in order to keep him from something more important.

And now, Dick had taken off. There was only one logical explanation, Dick must have been in contact with Tim. That would certainly cause him to drop everything and go to him if Tim needed his help. Batman set his jaw in a determined line, ready to go back to the Cave and find some trace of Dick's whereabouts.

Gotham City Reservoir 11:45pm

The first thing Nightwing noticed upon waking up was dampness. He was lying on something cold and wet, concrete it felt like. He blinked, trying to make his sluggish eyes respond to his command. Wherever he was did not have good lighting, it looked like some kind of pipe and a few exposed bulbs hung from the ceiling. His head felt like it was fool of cotton and his mouth had an odd taste in it. He recognized the tell-tale signs of having been drugged. It happened too often for his liking anyway. He thought back to the warehouse, the ambush, the military men. All the variables pointed in one direction, and he would have gladly taken another dose of whatever it was that knocked him out to avoid having to reach that conclusion.

Slade.

Slade was behind this, he knew something had been off with Tim, he had just taken too long to figure it out. He would have thought that maybe Slade had captured Tim, but something made him think differently. He remembered hearing about Huntress' rage driven violence at Oracle's tower, and unfortunately, all of the pieces fit. Slade's gotten to Tim. He thought in anger. Even though they had tried to protect him, they had failed, and Slade had gotten to him somehow, had implanted a chip in him or drugged him, or something else to make him help Slade.

But why? What was it that Slade wanted so badly? He had no time to muse over that because a frighteningly familiar voice was suddenly echoing in the halls.

"Awake yet, Nightwing? It's almost time for the show."

Nightwing sat up slowly and saw what he expected. Slade was standing in the darkened hall, his lone eye leering down at Nightwing in a way that used to make him shiver involuntarily. Nightwing merely stared him down, recognizing that for the second time in his life, Slade held something he found precious in his hands, and Nightwing had no choice but to cooperate to find out what it would take to save Tim.

"What is this all about, Slade?" Nightwing asked as he followed a few paces behind the assassin. Slade had his hands clasped behind his back and was taking a slow pace, which Nightwing was thankful for. His body remained sluggish, still overcoming the drugs in his system, and he frequently found himself touching the wall to retain his balance.

He could not have been in a worse position right now. If Slade decided to attack him here, in this small space, with the drugs still in his system he would stand no chance.

"All in due time, Nightwing," Slade said without turning around.

"This is about Robin, isn't it?" Dick demanded.

"Isn't it always? I must say, I was surprised by the new Robin, he's much different from you. He doesn't have the same freedom of movement or grace that you possess. But I suppose it's a difference of background. This newer version is skilled however. I recognized some of his style from a certain martial artist – Lady Shiva, correct?"

"Why would you care?" Dick asked.

"Just trying to make conversation. I heard that you enjoy talking before your fights, Nightwing."

"And when is this fight going to take place? Are you leading me to your gym or something?"

"Who said you would be fighting me?"

"Slade – what the hell are you talking about," Dick asked, his mind reaching the same conclusion over and over but he kept blocking it out, not wanting to know, not wanting to believe it was possible.

"You did come here for young Robin, didn't you? I'm just going to deliver you to him," Slade responded. It was eerie the way he refused to look at Dick, but kept walking along in front of him, never turning his head, never letting their eyes meet.

"I know what you did to Huntress," Dick announced suddenly. At this Slade did pause, and Dick could imagine him smirking before he continued on his slow walk. "What I can't figure out is why."

"Every good plan requires a diversion, Nightwing," Slade sighed as if speaking to a small child. "And a test subject."

Nightwing finally stopped walking, knowing that Slade would notice and have to stop. "What do you want, Slade. Just tell me what it is, no more games."

"You bore easily these days. The game hasn't even begun yet. And you know what I want."

"An apprentice, yeah, I get that. But who – Robin or me?" he asked wearily.

Slade turned to face him. "Either will do. Follow me and I will explain everything to you and your younger counterpart," he said.

Reservoir 12:00a.m.

They had been walking through the hall (pipe) long enough for the drugs to work their way out of Dick's system when Slade stopped abruptly. Dick looked around him and saw a door blocking the end. Slade put a key in the lock and turned it, opening the door and then stepping aside.

"Nightwing," Tim's voice called from across an expanse. Dick stepped through the door and took a look around. They were in a large space, it was at least 20 feet tall. Seven feet from the ceiling he saw a second level with railings looking out over where they were. The entire place was composed of concrete block and gave an industrialized, cold feel. Some ten feet away from him he spotted a figure he could recognize anywhere.

Tim was there, but he was not Tim, and he was not Robin either. Clad in a black costume that bore no symbols, he stared at Nightwing through a mask with black outlines. "Robin, what's going on?" Dick asked, trying not to flinch when the door behind him shut and locked, trapping him in the room with Tim.

"It's just Tim now, I don't need any stupid codename, not anymore, and not here," he hissed at Dick, taking a couple steps closer to him. Dick, unsure of Tim's intentions, also moved forward – away from the wall so he could not be easily boxed in.

"Slade!" Dick called. "Explain, now!"

"What, are you afraid to face me, Dick?" Tim asked. The use of his real name brought Nightwing out the haze he was in and forced him to look; really look, at the teen in front of him. Tim was holding himself differently, tall and square. His jaw was set and his eyebrows were pinched towards his nose as if he were squinting.

"It's simple Nightwing," Slade's voice boomed from above them, and Dick wondered how he had managed to get up there so quickly. "Tim is determined to fight you, and he wants to kill you. So, if he wins, you'll be dead and he'll still be here with me. But if you decide to join me, and I mean really join me, not just wait for an opening to kill me, then I will let little Timmy here go home to his daddy and stepmommy. No harm done."

Tim did not seem to be fazed by listening to Slade talk about him in such a demeaning manner, and Dick wondered if he was even paying attention, if he even knew what was really going on around him. Or was he so trapped in his own rage; his own mind; that he had no sense of what was happening?

"Tim's not going to kill me," Dick scoffed.

"I suppose you've chosen then," Slade sighed, and honestly he did sound a little disappointed. Dick half expected his next words to be 'it was worth a shot.' Dick's looking at Slade, who's leaning on the railing watching him, and that's a mistake, and he should have known that, he did know that; because you never turn away from your real enemy. It's just, he couldn't wrap his head around who the enemy here was.

And just like that, without even giving Dick a chance to prepare, or beginning a bad-guy monologue, or asking if he's ready, Tim is on him. He's all feet and fists, and Dick can barely comprehend what's happening, can scarcely believe that Tim is attacking him, attacking him, the person he idolized for years, the person who helped him become Robin, who helped him understand Batman and become the hero he had always wanted to be. But even as his mind sluggishly tried to follow what was happening, his body responded, and he blocked and he countered, and he guessed what Tim was about to do before he did it. And now that his brain had caught up with his fists, he found himself thinking I taught him that move, or I remember the first time he tried that flip, and if anything it makes this harder.

But Tim's not stopping, he's not giving Dick a chance to ask him a question or to catch his breath, he's relentless, and Dick has never seem him like this; so singularly focused, so caught up in the moment. And then Dick realizes that Tim's whispering something over and over. "Liar, he's a liar," Tim whispers again and again.

"Tim you're wrong!" Dick cried, but Tim is not listening to him, and Dick wonders what he's supposed to do to stop this before Tim does something he'll regret.

...To be continued in part II!

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review!

Ada