Alfred and Tim flank Dick as he moves into the warehouse, looking around anxiously; until he spots her, a crumpled heap of blue leather and red hair.

He wants to race over to her, lift her off the floor, promise he'll never leave her side again. He wants to smooth her hair off her face, hold her close, kiss her until everything is OK again.

He's still Nightwing.

They advance slowly, checking everything for a possible trap. Tim covers his back; Alfred keeps the shotgun raised.