Y/N, known to the world as Starhawk, and Nightwing help save the live of a pathologist. Life is going well and her niece is visiting, but finding the truth of who hired the assassin leads to some frightening developments.

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings/Promises: some fluff, heck of a lot of angst, deadly influenza threat, violence, blood, needles 

Word Count: 3900 (longer than usual, more to say this time)

Note: Oh my God, you guys are going to hate me. Besides the obvious, please let me know what you think about the fic. Requests open. Tag lists open.

Blair Bones shoved the second magazine into his gun. The lab was covered in broken glass and leaking chemicals. He avoided bumping into anything as he stepped closer to his target. The scientist was huddled in the last available corner.

“I’ll give you anything you want,” he said, raising his hands in surrender.

“But you don’t have anything I want.” Bones cocked the gun.

“Then why are you doing this?”

Bones smirked. Always that question. “Because someone wants you out of the way.”

---

Nightwing smirked as the last set of handcuffs clicked into place. The would-be robbers were barely conscious. One was snoring.

“Is that the last of them?” You rightened the last file cabinet and straightened the pencils on the desk. The scientist who belonged to the office had called you several days ago about a possible break-in. And that another might occur. Which it did, but this time you and Nightwing were ready.

“Yes.” Nightwing signaled on his com, “Robin, order ready for pick-up.”

“Cops there in two. See you when you’re done.” Tim left the coms.

You leaned against the wall. “Two minutes. Topic or front door delivery?” Nightwing shook his head back and forth considering.

“As much as I would like to shoot the breeze, why don’t we-“ Both of you froze as gunfire filled the air. “Speaking of shooting… you guys, don’t go anywhere.” The robbers groaned. Nightwing lead the way towards the source of the shots. He slid along the tiles into a lab, you close on his heels. It was nearly completely demolished. A broad-shouldered person had their back to you, while a smaller man huddled on the floor, pleading for his life.

The huddled man attempted to squeeze himself further into the corner. “Please, don’t!”

Nightwing drew his batons. “Hey!”

The broad-shouldered man turned, and you instantly recognized Blair Bones. Gun for hire at a cheaper rate than his skills were worth, you’d never seen him in person before. Nightwing leapt into action, engaging Bones. You ran to the scientist’s side; he was shivering, and his eyes were beginning to glaze over. Staring death in the face usually had that effect on people. You hauled him to his feet, forcing him to hurry as the sparring between Blair and Nightwing escalated. Glass shattered over your head as Bones’ attempt to shoot your partner was redirected in the scuffle. The scientist stumbled, falling behind a table. Out of the way. Safe.

You joined the scuffle, giving Nightwing time to take a breather. In the haste to get away once he realized he was outnumbered, Bones stumbled back into a window weakened by earlier gunfire. You tried to grab his vest to keep him from falling, but he fell with a cry. Nightwing rushed to your side. Below, Bones rolled to a stop. Your goggles zoomed in on a flash-drive drive that fell out of his pocket. The assassin was more focused on getting away than the evidence he left behind and ran off into the night without it. A few seconds later, blue flashing lights rounded the corner and Gotham’s best swarmed into the building to collect the earlier sting.

“Are you alright,” you asked, turning to the scientist. He nodded, shivering. Nightwing helped him to his feet. “Can you tell us why you think you were targeted?”

“I am Doctor Daniel Havran, and I’m one of the pathologists here. I’ve been developing a cure for an H6N1 influenza virus.”

While Dr. Havran continued his story, you went back to the window and shot one of your smaller grappling hooks. Soon you had the dropped flash-drive in your pocket.

Dr. Havran accepted the fire blanket Nightwing used to combat his shock. “A few weeks ago I started to receive threats to stop my work. Such threats are pretty usual for this line of work, so I thought nothing of it. Until now.” He leaned against a lab table. You and Nightwing shared a look. If the threats had been going on for a while, then the threatener had plenty of time to hire Blair Bones. And plenty of time to plan an alternate if Bones couldn’t finish the job.

Nightwing gently took the scientist’s arm. “We can have you in a safe house in five minutes. Right this way.”

---

Later in the Batcave, you had started to rummage through the files on the disk.

“Bones wasn’t searching for one specific thing, or he didn’t have time. Pretty much the whole office is on here.” You gestured at the screen. “Schedules, RNA strands, a list of everyone’s favorite snack. If he was there to kill Dr. Havran, why take all this too?” Dick, fresh out of uniform, stood behind your chair and rubbed his hands down your back. “And I keep seeing files for the H6N1 virus, but another one stored under that called ‘Thunderbird.’ But that’s encrypted.”

“You can worry about that one tomorrow. Right now you have a visitor about to come through the front doors.”

You were off like a shot, shedding the last of your uniform as you went. By the time you caught up with Alfred in the atrium, you looked like any other young woman your age lounging in your home. You caught your breath and waited for the doorbell. Alfred smiled at you and opened both doors as dramatically as possible to let in a little girl no taller than three feet.

“Auntie Y/N!” She ran straight into your arms, squealing as you lifted her into the air and spun her around. “This place is so big! Do you really live here? Why is the driveway so long, and how come you don’t have a mailbox? I’ve missed you much!”

“And I’ve missed you too, Wiggle Bug.” You put her down and kneeled beside her, looking up at Alfred. “Isi, this is Alfred. If you can’t find me, he’s available for all questions and raids of ice cream.” She gave him an adorable tiny wave. “Alfred, this is my niece, Isi.”

Ne kneeled down to your level and took her small hand in his for a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Miss Isi. Do you have a favorite flavor?”

Isi curled into your shoulder, suddenly shy. “Strawberry. Please.” She looked up at you.

“It’s a little late for it tonight, but…”

“Perhaps at lunch?” Alfred finished. When Isi smiled in agreement, Alfred nodded and lifted her luggage to take to her room.

She met the family next. She took to Bruce the most. How could she not? He was like a giant teddy bear around children. Tim promised to show her the best hiding places in the mansion, and Jason let her see his tattoos. She seemed to like one of the black and white ones the best, asking if she could color it in for him with markers one day. Damian helped her disappear in order to show her his new kittens for a few minutes while you filled Bruce in on the night’s events.

“Keep looking through the files. See if there is anything in an earlier, more personal folder about who might have hired him.” He nodded at Dick, who walked in on the end of the conversation, then left for the cave to start his shift.

Isi came bouncing back into the den, just in time to see Dick kiss the back of your neck. “Is he your lover, Auntie Y/N?”

Dick chuckled and buried his head into your hair. “Am I your lover, Y/N?”

“He is my boyfriend, yes. Where did you get ‘lover’ from?”

She crawled up onto the couch to fiddle with a tassel on a pillow. “Mom’s neighbors call each other that. Do you guys hug a lot too?”

“It’s getting kind of late, so let’s show you your room.” You sat Isi on your hip, who drowsily rested her head on your shoulder. You walked by Dick and rolled your eyes. The questions of a child.

While you pulled down her covers, Isi finished brushing her teeth. On her way out of the bathroom, the door closed faster than she was expecting, catching her fingers. You rushed to her side as she began to cry. She quieted down to whimpers as you blew cold air across the injured fingers. You sat her on the bed.

“I’m sorry that big door got you, sweetie.” You wiped away her tears and kissed across her knuckles. “Are you going to be okay?” She muttered something close enough to a yes. The pain must have receded a bit if she could rub her eyes with her injured hand.

“I’d be better if I could have some ice cream.”

If she wasn’t your niece she could have been your child.

“Tomorrow for lunch. I promise. Now,” you kissed her forehead and eased her back into the pillows, “it is time for you to go to sleep. Sweet dreams, Isi.”

Isi yawned. “Sweet dreams, Auntie.” She was asleep before you left the room.

---

Dick brought you a cup of coffee the next morning as you continued pouring over the flash-drive. “How’s it going?”

“Bruce was right. It was called ‘music money,’ but I found the list of clients. He had a few targets to go after, but Dr. Havran was supposed to be the easy one. I’ve already alerted the other targets and gotten them some protection. Oh, and” you took a sip of the coffee, humming at it’s perfection, “I talked to Havran this morning. Took me ten minutes to get off the phone for all of his appreciation.”

Dick chuckled. “He did almost die.”

“Yeah.” You scrunched up your nose in thought. “But this other virus… Thunderbird… it’s super encrypted.” You continued observing the client list, smiling when you found what you were looking for. “And look at this.” You leaned back so Dick could read the screen.

“Falcone? Seriously?” Dick opened the recording of the video agreement. Seems Bones liked keeping good records in case someone wanted to backpedal on their contract. Dick whistled. If Falcone found out that Bones had a taped hit order of his, there wouldn’t even be bones left of him. “But why a pathologist? That doesn’t sound like him.”

You nodded your head in agreement. “Let’s go and ask him. Tonight.”

The rest of the day was consumed by entertaining Isi. There was indeed ice cream at lunch, and after a private and quiet tour of Wayne Tower, there was a pizza dinner in Bruce’s office. By the time you made it back to the manor, Isi was exhausted. She also complained about her stomach hurting. You figured that last slice was too much for her small stomach. Alfred carried her to bed so you and Dick could get ready for the night’s mission.

For all of Carmine Falcone’s mob boss bravado, it was laughably easy to sneak into his office. There was one tripped signal on the way in, but you made sure the camera only saw a stray cat. You and Nightwing waited in the shadows for only a few minutes before you heard voices approaching.

“I do not want to be disturbed,” Falcone said, pushing the double doors open. “And if that buffoon Bones shows up at our door, shoot him.” He slammed the doors shut and eventually collapsed into his desk chair. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his eyebrows to his temples. “I know you’re in here. You’ve used the cat before.”

“Damn,” you partner grumbled under his breath. He tapped your shoulder and followed you out into the dim light provided by the desk lamp.

“Why did you hire Blair Bones?” There was no use making small talk, so you cut to the chase.

Falcone shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I’d been paying that little lab weasel to create a new virus and antidote. I take it you’ve met?” He nodded as you both remained silent. “He became… erratic. Kept talking about a New Gotham. A new start. Originally, I was in it for the money, and for once didn’t want to kill anybody. He told me he’d found an influenza strain that was weak enough to do what I wanted: create a panic for a cure without wiping out all of my future customers.”

“That sounds a little out of the box for you, Falcone,” Nightwing said.

Falcone got up and took a small case from his bookshelf. “Agreed. But I have learned my lesson. I’ve come to believe there are more psychos in lab coats than in Arkham.” He opened the case where you could see there wasn’t a gun. Instead, there were rows of pills. He picked one, rubbing it between his fingers.

“Wait-“

Falcone swallowed the pill. For a few seconds, none of you moved. You were confused when Falcone gave a sigh of relief.

“Havran told me he had another virus. Thunderbird. Lethal and quickly spreading. I made sure he had an antidote as a stipulation for the funding. These are a few of the test trials, good for emergencies but not for duplication. Also,” Falcone sighed, “Thunderbird was going to be most dangerous to the elderly and to children.”

“A new start,” you whispered.

“Yes. The weasel infected himself the night Bones showed up. The goal was to kill him before then, though after would have worked too. Unfortunately, Bones failed in both. Because of you two.”

Nightwing stepped closer to Falcone. “How long until he is infectious?”

“You two are probably already infected. Carriers of Thunderbird.”

You swallowed hard and grabbed Nightwing’s shoulder. Children. Lethal.

Isi.

Nightwing nodded and called the safehouse from coms. Falcone shook his head when nobody answered. You walked further away and called the manor. Alfred’s words froze your blood.

“You need to get here. Now.”

You left Nightwing to deal with Falcone, racing home.

---

Isi’s labored breathing stopped you in your tracks. You leaned heavily against the doorframe and did your best not to cry.

“Auntie?” she rasped.

“I’m here, sweetie. I’m here.” You forced yourself to walk on solid feet to her bedside. All the way home you had replayed the incident with the smashed fingers last night. Wiping away her tears. Blowing on her fingers, which she used to rub her eyes. You fell to your knees and took Isi’s hand.

You had infected your niece with Thunderbird.

“How’s my wiggle bug feeling?” You could be strong. You could be there for her. You could fix this.

Alfred tucked in the comforter around her on the other side of the bed. “Fever. Chest pains. She was a little confused when she woke up as to where she was, but we’ve got that sorted out now.” He gave you a small smile and left you too alone.

“Alfred won’t let Damian bring me any kittens,” Isi pouted. She gave your hand a weak squeeze and let out a shuddered breath.

You tried to smile. “You don’t want to get him or the kittens sick, do you?” Isi shook her head no and closed her eyes. You placed your hand on her forehead, terrified when it was so warm. You could fix this. Isi was going to be okay. You can do this. Your ignored tears sank to make your chest hurt. As quietly as you could, you left the room. Alfred was waiting outside.

He spoke before you could get a chance. “She’s stable. And I will call you with any change.” He patted your shoulder and sent you on your way to come up with a plan.

---

Batman gave his blessing to you and Nightwing to finish the case. He stayed in the cave with some of your infected blood and a list of everyone either your or Nightwing came into contact with. If all else failed, perhaps he would be able to make a few calls and come up with an antidote.

The safehouse was empty and cold. That wasn’t unusual from the outside, but inside? Inside was… terrifying.

Nightwing had sent for someone earlier to check on the guard. He was alright but was being held in quarantine. The atrium showed the struggle from where Dr, Havram attacked him after inviting him in for coffee. There was glass from a shattered vase, a tangled rug that tripped the guard, and an empty injector gun. You audibly gasped at the sight of the kitchen. Crystalline glasses and hot plates had been transformed into make-shift chemical equipment. Papers obliterated with writing covered every other available surface. Where Dr. Havran had run out of paper, more formulas and ramblings were written on the walls.

“Here,” Nightwing said, pointing out a line of text. It was written in larger letters and seemed to be burned into the wall. “With death comes rebirth.” Nightwing grit his teeth. “I am really starting to not like this guy.”

In one notebook you found addresses of other labs scattered between other ramblings. The whole notebook was written backward to only be read while standing in front of a mirror, like Da Vinci’s notes. But that’s what the high-tech goggles were for. With a quick check on a map of Gotham, you found the one that was closest to the safehouse location. It was dying apartment complex across the road from a school that taught almost all of Gotham’s underprivileged children.

Your body vibrated, your nerves hovering between checking every nook and cranny for anything about how to save Isi and rushing to the lab to take from the source. The stay was only a few minutes, though it felt longer. You were glad to be off when the apartment complex came into view. A man sleeping by the stairs said that a ‘crazy dude in a white coat’ had kicked everybody out a month ago by claiming the building was condemned. Technically it was, but the ‘imminent threat’ of collapse seemed to convince everybody this time around. The man even knew what floor he was on.

Once inside the building, it was not difficult to find the spare lab. Dr. Havran had taken over what had been a promising renovation for a community study hall. Most of the 80’s computers had been thrown into the hallway, their broken screens illuminated by the harsh lights freed from their lampshades. The desks had been pushed together to similarly resemble the kitchen at the safehouse.

In the center of it all, Dr. Havran was peering through a glove-case finalizing a vial. While the exterior was being disinfected by a small motor mist, he freed himself of the gloves and stepped back with a chuckle.

“So Falcone tipped you off that I’m unstable? You wouldn’t have been here for another few hours at the earliest if he hadn’t.” He unlatched the side of the case for the vial. Swinging it back and forth, threatening to drop it, he tutted at your attempts to rush him. “I wouldn’t if I were you. This is the only collection of a viable antidote. If I drop it, it won’t survive outside of the glass. You’ll need an injector gun, much like this one. Oops.” Dr. Havran held up the tool with a grin, then smashed it onto the floor. The delicate muzzle shattered on impact.

A shiver of anger crawled up your spine. There had to be another way to use the antidote. You had to keep him talking.

“Then what?” you asked. “You infect the school. The children take it home to their parents who take it to their coworkers who take it home to their children.” Stepping around a table, you moved slowly towards him. “You wipe out a generation, all for nothing.”

“No, not for nothing,” he cooed. “Like mushrooms from dead trees or fresh fields from volcano ash, with death comes rebirth. Gotham will be an example to other cities that it must care for its children more than they are doing now. Make new laws, cast old ones out. Gotham will be the epicenter of rebirth.”

You growled, “innocent children. Did you lose someone? A son or daughter, or a niece or nephew?”

Dr. Havran shook his head in confusion. “Why do I need to be connected with the persecuted to see the need? To help them?”

It was twisted. You had heard enough. And had distracted him enough for Nightwing to circle behind him. He grabbed the vial and sent the scientist to his knees with a flick of his baton. Nightwing placed the vial in the belt clip-on made exclusively for vials to keep them from breaking. He turned to rush back to the manor, but Dr. Havran grabbed his ankle. Nightwing cried out as he fell and found himself under the doctor’s mad attack.

Rushing forward, you kicked Dr. Havran’s claw-like hands away and descended on him yourself. He reached back under the desk and pointed the found gun at your face. You rolled away barely evading the bullets that impeded themselves in the furniture around you. When you fell out of sight, Dr. Havran turned his attention back to Nightwing, shooting at him too.

For a scientist with terrible aim, he had both of you pinned down pretty well.

“How desperate are you for the cure, Starhawk? Nightwing? Who did I infect through you? A son or daughter? A niece?”

Your rage boiled over. With a scream that revealed that he had hit his mark, you flipped over the cabinet covering you. Arms outstretched and hands ready to claw out his throat, your anger blurred your vision too much to see the handful of long-needled syringes aimed at your chest. You gasped as the needles pierced through your suit and snapped off from their shafts. They stuck out of your chest like darts in a bar.

Dr. Havran took your pause of shock to break away. He almost made it to the door when Nightwing’s grappling rope wrapped around his ankles. Nightwing was on him in a second, handcuffing his wrists tightly. He broke a glass pill filled with sleeping smoke under his nose ensuring that he would asleep long enough to transport him to Arkham.

“Havran secured, Batman. Send in the blues and we’ll be home soon.” He rounded the corner with that smile he always wore when a crisis was averted. It fell away when he saw the needles. “No, no, no, no. Hang on.” He moved to kneel by you, but you waved him off.

“Isi. Get to Isi.” One or more must have pierced deep enough to your lungs because each breath felt like you were being stabbed over and over again. “Please. Isi.” You pleaded with your eyes, not trusting your voice not to betray the pain you were in.

He nodded. With one more glance to the blood seeping over your suit, he ran out of the building. Over the coms, you heard him tell Batman he was on his way. Faintly you heard Batman promising to meet him halfway to take the antidote to Isi. Then Nightwing could come back to you.

The windows reflected with flashing blue. The icy hot in your chest seeped further into your torso.

Isi was going to be okay. She was going to get the antidote. Isi was going to live.

Dick’s voice called you out of the sleep threatening to overtake you.

“I’m coming, Y/N. I can save you. We can fix this. You’re going to be okay. You can do this.”

Masterlist 

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