A/N: So the main reason for this collection is I had a bunch of ideas for scenarios and situations I wanted to write about in this universe but wasn't able to fit them into the main stories. These stories take place in the 2 and a half (ish) years between Shadow of an Arrow and Beyond the Shadow. Right now I have 6 one-shots planned, but if I think of any more ideas before it's finished posting, then I'll add them on. Read on and enjoy!

"Bruce! I think Roy died!"

Bruce rolled his eyes a little bit as he finished scooping the half-burnt eggs from the pan onto the three plates in front of him. 'Why do 11-year-olds have to be so dramatic?' Or maybe it was just his 11-year-old. Regardless, he quickly moved the pan to a burner that wasn't hot and carefully picked up the three plates. When he walked into the dining room he frowned. Roy was sitting at the table with his head in his arms and Dick was periodically poking him with a fork. "Dick, stop that."

"I told you, he died!"

"He's not dead." Bruce set the plates on the table and slid one of them to his younger ward. "He probably just stayed up past his bedtime is all." Very gently, Bruce slid a plate in front of the teen. "Roy, time to wake up and eat."

"Mmmmm…" Roy moaned.

"Come on, Roy." Bruce reached out for Roy's arm and frowned. 'Why is his skin so warm?' Dreading the answer, he carefully lifted Roy's head enough to put his hand on the teen's forehead. "Shit! Roy, you're burning up!"

"Sorry…" Roy breathed.

"Language," Dick quipped from his seat.

"You eat your breakfast," Bruce told him. He sat in the next to Roy and lifted his head again. It scared him how unfocused and tried Roy's gaze was. "Your whole face is hot. Do you feel sick?"

"Feel….achy…" Roy mumbled. "And….tired…."

"Ok. Dick, eat your breakfast, then finish getting ready for school. I'm taking Roy back up to bed."

"Is he ok?" Dick asked, all trace of amusement now replaced with genuine concern.

"He's probably just got a stomach bug. I'm sure it'll pass in a day." Very carefully, Bruce put his hands on Roy's arms and helped him stand. Roy stumbled a little but Bruce caught him and led him toward the stairs.

"I'm sorry, Bruce…" Roy mumbled.

"It's ok. You're just not feeling good. You just need some rest." Going up the stairs took three times as long as normal due to how slow Roy moved. By the time they reached his bedroom, Roy was so tired he was practically leaning on Bruce. "We're all most there." When they got to Roy's room, Bruce laid him down on the bed, then covered him up "I have to take Dick to school, but I'll be back soon, ok?"

"Mhm…" Roy closed his eyes and only took a few seconds to fall asleep.

'Ok. I'll just drop Dick off at school, then come right home,' Bruce thought as he left quietly. 'Roy should be fine until then. He'll only be alone for 20 minutes.'

— —

When Bruce got home, he checked on Roy, who was still asleep. Nodding to himself, Bruce went down to his study to get some work done. 'I don't need Alfred,' he thought. 'I can handle this.' Which was good, since his butler wasn't due back from his yearly trip of visiting his family for another six days. For the most part, the day was quiet. Roy slept through the morning with no problem. Bruce managed to find some leftover chicken noodle soup from when Dick had been cold ridden a week prior and heated some up for Roy.

'Maybe that's what he has,' Bruce thought as he carefully brought the warm soup up to Roy's room. 'Maybe it's just a cold. I don't think Dick's cold caused a fever this high though.' Which was…? 'I should probably take his temperature. I think there's a first aid kit in his bathroom. Might be a thermometer in there.' He knocks gently on the door before entering. The lights were all off and Roy was laying in his bed, but he'd kicked the blankets off. "Roy? You awake?'

"Yeah…" Roy replied hoarsely.

"Throat sore?"

"Mhm."

"If Alfred were here he'd know the exact cup of tea to make you that would cure it. I think the best I could offer is a cough drop later if you want."

"Thanks." Roy sat up and leaned against his headboard as Bruce put the bowl in his lap.

"I'm going to find a thermometer. Eat slowly, ok?"

"Ok. Can I have a glass of water?"

"Sure." Bruce grabbed the empty cup from the bedside table and refilled it in the bathroom (where he didn't find a thermometer) before returning the glass and looking for the thermometer. He looked in Dick's bathroom next, since the boy was the last person in the Manor to be sick. When that turned up nothing, he checked his own. Sure enough, he found one. 'Ok, now I just have to take his temperature and-' Bruce's thoughts were cut off by the sounds of vomiting the closer he got to Roy's room. 'Oh no.' He rushed in and found Roy throwing up in the bathroom. Wincing at how the teen whimpered wretchedly between heaves, Bruce knelt down and rubbed his back. "It's ok, Roy. It's ok. Just relax. It's ok." It felt like far too long before the teen's stomach stopped torturing him and he was able to sit back. Bruce's brow furrowed in concern at how Roy look even paler than he had 15 minutes ago and he seemed to be sweating. "Are you ok?"

"Mhm."

"Come on." Bruce flushed the toilet, then helped Roy stand up. He led the teen back to his bed and made him lay down. As he did, he spotted the bowl of soup, which looked like it'd barely been touched. "Drink some water." Bruce held out the cup, but Roy shook his head.

"My stomach feels too…weird."

"Ok, well…try to drink something in a bit when it settles. Ok?"

"Uh-huh."

"Open up." Roy opened his mouth and Bruce slipped the thermometer under his tongue. "Ok, keep that in there for a while, got it?" Roy nodded. Very awkwardly, Bruce didn't know how long he was supposed to keep the thermometer under Roy's tongue, so he left in the miserable teen's mouth for ten minutes. When he took it out he looked at the little screen. '102.5 degrees.' That probably wasn't good, but it wasn't critical, or was it? "Ok just, stay in bed and rest."

"Ok."

Bruce looked at the soup but decided to keep it in the room in case Roy decided he was hungry later. He glanced at the teen again, who seemed to be drifting between awake and asleep. "I don't think I'll need to stay here with him,' Bruce thought. 'He's just going to sleep anyways.' He snuck out of the room and left the door open a crack.

Unfortunately, though, Roy didn't go to sleep. He tossed and turned as the heat burned through his body. He moaned, then kicked the blankets off again and curled himself up into a ball. A deep aching feeling persisted through his legs and torso. Every breath felt like it had to force its way into his lungs. 'Can't sleep,' he thought as he moaned miserably. Which felt like a really unfair paradox. Part of Roy wanted to read since he couldn't sleep, but he also didn't have the energy to get up or actually read. So instead, he grabbed the remote off the bedside table and turned the tv on. The sudden loud noise of the television caused him to jump and he quickly muted it. It took him roughly 15 minutes to be able to lower the volume enough so that he could handle it and put not eh subtitles. He found a Harry Potter movie, then laid back down. Everything was a little confusing because he kept drifting off, but at least the movie was giving him something to focus on.

— —

Everything was quiet for the rest of the afternoon. Bruce worked his study for the whole afternoon, but he did keep one of the security camera's feeds pulled up on his computer. It showed the hall outside the bedrooms, so he could keep an eye on Roy if the teen tried to leave his room. Fortunately, it seemed like Roy was probably sleeping the whole afternoon because there wasn't a peep from him. By the time it was time to pick Dick up at school, Bruce was feeling hopeful that Roy would feel well enough to eat dinner. However, when he actually went up to Roy's room, it was clear that he wasn't feeling better at all. When Bruce put his hand on the teen's face, it was burning so much that his cheeks were red. A thin layer of stuck sweat seemed to be lining to Roy's face and neck. "Roy," Bruce said softly as he put his hand on Roy's forehead, which was also hot. 'Should I take his temperature again?' Probably a good idea. "Roy? Wake up."

"Hmm…" Roy moaned. His eyes cracked open and he liked his lips. "Bruce…?"

"Yeah. You're really warm. Have you been drinking water?"

Roy started nodding, then shook his head. "Got…sick…when I drink…"

"Can you try to drink some? You're probably dehydrated."

"Uh-huh…" Bruce helped Roy sit up and brought the cup of water to his lips. The teen took a few tiny sips before pushed at Bruce's hand weakly.

"Ok." Once he had Roy laying down again Bruce covered him with one thin blanket. 'I don't want him to overheat.' He rubbed Roy's back a little bit. "I have to go pick Dick up at school. Don't try to get up and I'll be back soon. When I get back I'll take your temperature again. Ok?"

"Uh-huh…"

"Good. Just rest."

Roy blinked and Bruce was gone. His brain couldn't quite find enough energy to care though. For a while, the miserable teen just laid in bed and stared up at the ceiling. Every inhale felt like it was stabbing the inside of his lungs. Roy's whole chest felt like it was crushing his lungs when he started coughing and hacking. He buried his face in his pillow tilt he coughing finally subsided and he moved his head to the side. 'Throat hurts…' Roy thought. 'Maybe….water?' He reached out for his glass, but his weak fingers accidentally knocked it off instead. "Ugh…." Roy suffered through another coughing fit, then threw the blankets back. Another coughing fit, then he swung his legs off the bed. He winced at the deep ache in the muscles as they touched the ground. Swallowing, Roy pushed himself to his feet, only to fall back onto his bed as his legs nearly gave out. 'Want water…' he thought determinedly. Swallowing, then nodding, he pushed away from the bed again and this time managed to stay on his feet.

When he reached down to pick up the glass, he nearly pitched forward onto his face, but he managed to stay on his feet. 'Ok…ok….' Roy started walking to the bathroom, but then had to stop when another coughing fit hit him. He had to grab on to the footboard with one hand as he coughed up a lung into his other elbow. When it finally finished he kept shuffling to the bathroom. It wasn't a far distance to travel, but it felt like miles and miles. By the time he reached the doorway, he had to lean on it for support. 'Almost…' Roy pushed away and his vision suddenly blacked out and he was vaguely aware of his legs giving out underneath him.

Meanwhile, Dick was passing Roy's room, having just gotten home from school, and stopped when he heard a loud crash from the teen's room. "That didn't sound good," Dick muttered as he dropped his backpack, then ran into the bedroom. Roy wasn't in the bed, but a split-second survey showed the bathroom door was open. Dick ran over to it and gasped. Roy was passed out on the bathroom floor with blood under one of his hands. "Bruce!" he shouted. "Bruce, help! Bruce!" The closer Dick got to the bathroom, he could see that Roy was breathing. When he knelt down beside the teen, Dick put a shaky hand to his neck, trying to find his pulse. "Bruce! Bruce-"

"Dick?!" Bruce called back. He ran into Roy's bedroom and his eyes found the two boys within a second. "Roy!" He dashed into the bathroom and Dick backed up as Bruce knelt down. "What happened?!"

"I don't know! I was walking by and I heard a crash! So I came in and he was just…here!"

Bruce checked Roy's pulse, which felt a little slow to him. His frown deepened and he leaned over Roy to tap his face gently. "Roy? Roy, wake up." A little bit of tension left Bruce's body when Roy moaned in response. 'Ok. Ok.' First things first, get Roy back to bed. As gently as possible, Bruce picked Roy up and carried him back to his bed. 'You're getting heavy, kid,' Bruce thought. When he set the teen down, he covered him with a light blanket, then pulled out his phone. Dick scrambled onto the bed and felt Roy's forehead, then darted back into the bathroom. Bruce frowned after him but didn't get a chance to ask, because the person on the other line answered.

"Hello?"

"Leslie, it's Bruce."

"What can I do for you, Bruce?"

"I need you to come to Manor as soon as you can. Roy's really sick. He's burning up and he just passed out."

"I'll be there in half an hour."

"Thank you, Leslie." Bruce hung up as Dick came back. The boy had a very damp washcloth in his hands. He climbed onto the bed, then folded the washcloth up and put it on Roy's forehead.

"What's wrong with Roy?" Dick asked, clearly concerned.

"He's just sick. When Leslie gets here she'll be able to tell us what he has and we'll give him some medicine."

"So he'll be ok?"

"I'm sure." At least Bruce hoped so. Whatever it was Roy had, he silently prayed it was something they could treat on their own. It wasn't as if they could take him to a hospital. 'I can also treat him downstairs and worse come to worse I could take him to the Watchtower.' Roy's moaning caught Bruce's attention and he saw Dick wing the washcloth on the teen's face. "Dick, don't do that, I don't think he likes it."

"He likes it. See?" Dick pulled the washcloth away and Roy frowned in his semi-conscious state. He moved his head in Dick's direction as if searching for the missing contact. "I told you."

"Ok, ok. Just be gentle."

"I will."

Bruce sat by Roy's bed, his face creased with worry, and watched the teen sleep. Every breath Roy took seemed to take enormous energy on his part, but it was reassuring to Bruce because breathing meant alive. He didn't bother trying to tell Dick to go do his homework because he knew the boy wasn't going to listen and he didn't have the energy to fight with him on it at the moment. Occasionally, Bruce would reach out to out his hand on Roy's face or collar bone to see how warm it was. It was always really warm; as the red color in his cheeks suggested. When Leslie called to say that she'd arrived and was outside the Manor door, a small bit of tension in Bruce's chest eased. Leslie was a good doctor and would help Roy. "I'll be right back, Dick. Watch him."

"Ok." Dick remained in the same place he had been for the last half an hour, kneeling beside Roy on his bed. He touched the washcloth he'd put on the teen's forehead and discovered it was no longer cold and not as wet. "Don't move, Roy." He grabbed the washcloth and ran into the bathroom. The cold water dampened the washcloth quickly, then he ran back into the bedroom. When he walked in he saw Leslie coming in with Bruce. "Hi, Dr. Leslie," he said.

"Hi, Dick," Leslie said as she went over to Roy's bed. She set her bag down, then put her hand on Roy's forehead. "Roy? Can you hear me?"

"Hmmm…" Roy moaned. His eyes fluttered open. "Hi…"

"Hi, sweetie. Can you sit up for me?" Bruce came over and helped Roy sit up and lean back against the headboard. "I'm going to take your temperature." She pulled a thermometer out of her bag and put it in his mouth. "Has he been drinking water?" she asked Bruce.

"I don't think so," Bruce replied as he put a hand on Dick's chest to keep him from getting too close. "He's been throwing up everything he swallows."

"Hmm." The thermometer beeped and she pulled it out. "104. He's definitely running a fever." She checked his pulse. "Roy, are you experiencing any aches?"

"Uh-huh…" Roy replied. " 'M tired."

"Is your throat sore?"

"Uh-huh." He coughed and Leslie rubbed his back in sympathy.

"His pulse is a little slow." She pulled her stethoscope off her neck, then listen to Roy's breathing. Bruce watched as she listened to his lungs in several different places on his chest and back. Occasionally, she nodded, before eventually putting the stethoscope away. "Based on his symptoms, I'm going to diagnosis him with the flu."

"Just the flu?"

"The flu can be a nasty virus, Bruce. Rest and hydration are what he needs. Since he can't keep anything down I'm going to recommend you take him downstairs and put him on an IV. With his fever so high, it's important he stays hydrated."

"Ok." Bruce started to pull back the blankets from Roy's feverish body as Leslie kept talking.

"You can give him ibuprofen for the fever and his aches, but do not give him aspirin. I'm serious about this Bruce, do not give him aspirin, understand?"

"I got it." Bruce lifted Roy up and started heading for the Cave.

"He can't be light."

"He's not. I'm sure you noticed that he's put on a bit of weight in the last year."

"Now that he's no longer malnourished, his body is able to start building more muscle. That's most likely where the weight is coming from. Recent illness aside, he's very healthy."

"I'm glad." Dick ran ahead and got the entrance to the Cave open for them so Bruce could carry Roy downstairs. They went to the med bay and Bruce set Roy down on a bed.

"Hmm?" Roy frowned and looked around. "Where…?"

"You're in the Cave," Dick explained while Leslie and Bruce set up the IV. "You have to stay here until you're feeling better."

"Oh…"

"Just focus on keeping him hydrated and give him some medicine to help with the pain," Leslie advised Bruce as she expertly put the IV in Roy's arm. "Call me if you have any questions, understand?"

"I understand," Bruce replied. He cast a worried look down at Roy, who seemed to be falling asleep.

— —

Bruce chose to stay in the med bay while Roy was sleeping. He watched as the teen slept, tossing and turning throughout the night. Dick stayed too, but eventually, Bruce sent him up to bed. Unfortunately, this also meant Bruce was left by himself watching over Roy.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Roy woke up, mumbling with his eyes still closed.

"Roy," Bruce said gently, he put his hand on Roy's. "Roy, wake up. It's ok, wake up."

Roy's eyes fluttered open and he stared up at Bruce with a confused look on his face. "Uh…?"

"You're downstairs, remember? You have the flu-"

"Ollie?"

Bruce's heart stopped. "….Roy-"

"Hi, Ollie." Roy seemed to relax a little bit and his fingers weakly wrapped around Bruce's hand.

"Roy- I'm not-"

"You're taking care of me?" Roy's eyes never left Bruce, but they were wide and clearly feverish. It made Bruce extremely uncomfortable. "Thanks, Ollie."

Bruce swallowed. "You're welcome…"

"You….always take care of me…" Roy yawned, then winced as the action disturbed his sore throat.

"You- You should sleep."

"Ok…" Roy's eyes closed and as soon as his breathing evened out a bit more, in between hacking coughs, of course, Bruce busied himself with making sure the IV was giving him enough saline.

'Why was he calling me Oliver?' Bruce wondered as he did this. 'Is he having a flashback? It doesn't seem like it, he's usually having a panic attack when one of those happens.' What was happening then? 'The fever is probably confusing him. He's sick and dehydrated. I think some sleep and saline will help him. He'll be fine.' That theory seemed more likely to Bruce as Roy slept soundly through the rest of the night. Sometime close to the morning, Bruce checked the teen's temperature again. It was still several degrees above 100 and the red tin to Roy's cheeks remained constant. Everything was relatively peaceful enough, barring Roy's coughing, that Bruce managed to nod off. He didn't even bother moving from the chair he was sitting in with his head dropping onto his chest. It seemed like he had just dropped off for a few minutes when a loud noise woke him up. Bruce's head snapped up and it took him a second to realize the noise was Roy. The teen was sitting up in bed, doubled over and clutching the edge of the bed with his hands. "Roy," Bruce said, reaching out to put a comforting hand on his back. The teen kept coughing, almost seeming to choke on the sensation. "Roy, it's ok-" Roy flinched away from Bruce's touch, a whine making its way through the coughing.

"No…" Roy moaned, managing to choke out the word between coughs.

"Roy, deep breaths-"

"I'm sorry!"

"Roy, shh. It's ok, it's-"

"Ollie." Bruce froze and the next reassurance died on his tongue. "I'm sorry, Ollie. P-Please don't be mad." The coughing fit started to die down, making it easier for Roy to talk. "I'm sorry, Ollie. I don't mean to be sick…"

"Roy, it's Bruce. You're in Gotham."

"I'm sorry…"

Bruce reached out to try and help Roy sit back and rest, but he was rejected when the teen pulled away again.

"I'm sorry, Ollie."

"Just…lay back, Roy. Lay back." Roy did as he was told and stared up at Bruce with a deep look of regret and sadness that managed to make it through his feverish gaze.

"I'm sorry….Ollie…"

"Shhh… It's ok."

Roy's fingers settled on Bruce's. "I miss you…."

It took nearly every ounce of self-control Bruce had to keep his features from registering his shock. "Just sleep, Roy. Just get some sleep."

"Ok…" Roy's fingers curled around Bruce's weakly. "Miss you…"

Bruce swallowed but remained silent. He watched as Roy eventually fell asleep again. 'He must be hallucinating because of the fever,' he thought as he used his free hand to gently wipe some sweat off Roy's face with a cloth. 'It's just the fever. He doesn't know what he's saying.' It didn't really feel true, but it was the story Bruce was sticking with. Footsteps behind him alerted him to Dick's approach.

"Here," the boy said, handing Bruce one of two plates he was carrying. There were a few slices of toast on it with jelly spread across. "Breakfast."

"Thanks, Dick." Bruce grimaced a little as he took a bite. 'Right. I also have another kid I'm supposed to be taking care of.' He took a few more bites of the toast. "Sorry for being so preoccupied-"

"It's ok. I want you to take care of Roy. I mean, we can't take him to a hospital if he doesn't get better, right?"

"No, we can't. However, if he gets worse I'll take him up to the Watchtower. It's as good as a hospital."

"Good." Dick was quiet for a few minutes as he ate his own toast. "Is he better than he was yesterday?"

"No. I think the fever is getting worse, but he's sleeping pretty comfortably for now. Hopefully, he'll sleep until the fever breaks."

"I hope so."

Bruce let the conversation drop, too preoccupied with Roy's rambling and instance that Bruce was Oliver. 'His fever is probably making him hallucinate.' Which wasn't exactly a comforting thought. A fever that high must be dangerous. The worry caused Bruce to double-check the IV drip to make sure it was keeping Roy hydrated. 'I can't give him too much,' he thought. 'That'll kill him.' He sighed, then turned to Dick. "Can you go get cold presses and ice packs?"

"Absolutely." His toast was only half finished, but Dick jumped to his feet and ran to get the requested items.

'Good. I need to get his fever down.' Bruce felt Roy's forehead, which was still burning hot to the touch. 'if I can cool him off, his brain can relax, then he'll be better. He'll be better.' He had to be. Bruce didn't know if he could handle Roy thinking he was Oliver. 'I don't want to think about how that monster would've handled Roy when he was sick.' Just the thought of Roy being so weak and dependent on the aid of someone who'd hurt him made Bruce burn with anger and simultaneously sick. "Roy," he said quietly as he put his hand on the sleeping teen's hand. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. I would never hurt you. I'm going to make you better, ok? You're going to get better and everything will be ok. I promise."

Dick returned not long after that with the cold presses and ice packs. He handed some to Bruce, then got to work packing them in around Roy's feverish body. "Will this help him get better?"

"I hope so." Bruce hesitated for a moment when Roy moaned in his sleep, but he didn't wake up. 'As long as he stays asleep,' Bruce thought as he put the ice packs around Roy's body. 'These will help. They have to.' Once that was done, Bruce resumed his seat to keep vigil.

For a while, Dick kept him company, but the boy wasn't known for his ability to still in silence. After half an hour of squirming and tapping, Dick left the medbay, but not before checking Roy's forehead himself, and giving his brother a kiss on the cheek before he left.

A small smile appeared on Bruce's face. "I'm glad you two are so close," he said quietly to Roy's sleeping form. "I can see how you're being here helps Dick. It's great." Roy didn't wake up, but Bruce decided that was for the best. Sleep was the best thing for Roy to get better. 'I really hope he sleeps until the fever breaks.'

— —

Through some stroke of good luck, by the time Roy was stirring again, his fever had gone down a few degrees. Just as the thermometer beeped, the teen's eyes fluttered open. Bruce took a moment to check the reading, 101.3 degrees, then set it aside and looked down at Roy. "Roy?" he asked cautiously. "How do you feel?"

Roy frowned and looked around like he was confused. "Why 'm I d'wnst'rs?"

"You have the flu. Leslie told me to bring you down here so you could be on an IV."

"Oh. M'ks sense."

'Why is he speech slurred' Bruce wondered, starting to worry. "Roy, is your mouth ok?"

Roy made a face. "I's dry an' fussy."

"Dry and fuzzy. Ok, that's just because it's been over 24 hours since you've had water." Bruce retrieved a cup of water for Roy and handed it to him. Before he could warn Roy not to down the whole thing, the teen did exactly that. "You shouldn't have done that. It'll upset your stomach."

"My mouth feels better, though," Roy responded, now able to reply properly since his mouth no longer had the consistency of cotton. However, this argument didn't feel relevant for very long, because a few seconds later his stomach started to lurch. "Don't feel good…"

'I told him,' Bruce thought as he grabbed a small bucket. He got it in position just as Roy started vomiting. He rubbed the teen's back as he heaved until it eventually stopped. Bruce then set the buck aside and got Roy another cup of water. "Three small sips. Understand?"

"Mhm." Roy took the cup and took the three sips.

Before he could take another sip, Bruce put his hand over the top of the cup. "Now we'll wait a minute."

"Ok." Roy laid back, somehow exhausted, but kept his grip on the cup.

"How do you feel?"

"Chest hurts… Warm… Uh…" He coughed for a few seconds. "Coughing. Head hurts…"

"I'll put some pain medicine into the IV drip."

"Thanks."

Bruce moved his hand and let Roy drink four sips before he put his hand back over the cup. "I know it's annoying, but you need to take small sips or you'll make yourself sick again."

"I'm sorry."

"It's ok. I know you're thirsty right now." Bruce hesitated for a moment, then cleared his throat. "Roy, did Oliver ever take care of you when you were sick?"

Roy was quiet for a full two minutes. "Sometimes. I didn't get sick a lot, luckily, but if it was small like a cold he'd tell me to just tough it out. One time I was throwing up and he got mad at me for throwing up my dinner. He brought me water and soup, and he let me sleep instead of doing school work and practicing my archery." Roy shrugged. "When I was really sick he was nicer. As long as I wasn't sick for a long time."

"Oh. Ok." Something in Bruce's chest loosened. 'It's not great, but it's much better than what I'd feared.' He moved his hand and let Roy take another four sips before covering the cup again. "Do you remember waking up earlier?"

Roy shook his head. "No. I was awake?"

"Yes. You were…hallucinating as a result of the fever."

"I was?"

"Yes. You thought I was Oliver and kept apologizing."

"Oh."

Bruce hesitated for a moment before continuing. "You also said that you missed me."

"I did?"

"Yes." Bruce put his hand on Roy's when the teen turned away, but the hand twitched away. "Roy, it's ok."

"It's not." Roy's voice was tight with unshed tears. "I- It's not all the time, but sometimes, I miss him. I miss how safe I felt when I first lived with him. How excited I would get on good days when he was nice. I miss him teaching me new archery shots." Roy pushed the cup away and rubbed at his eyes. "I know I shouldn't miss him, but-"

"Shh. Shh, it's ok." Bruce set the cup aside and rubbed Roy's leg over the blanket. "It's ok. I'm not mad and you're not in trouble. You don't have to explain yourself to me."

"R-Really?"

"Yes. Your…feelings about Oliver and about the situation are valid, and they're yours. You don't have to justify it to anyone."

"But he abused me! He used me and lied to me! How can I miss someone like that?!"

"Because before he did all those things, he was your friend. Someone you trusted in your most vulnerable hours. It makes sense." He squeezed Roy's lower leg gently. "You're the only who can decide how you feel about Oliver. Even if I, or Dick, or anyone, don't understand your feelings, that's ok. I don't need to understand them."

"You don't?"

"No. But, if it upsets you, maybe you should talk to Black Canary about it next time you go to therapy."

"Ok." Roy laid back down as he wiped his tears. "Thanks."

"Of course. I'll get you some pain medicine." Bruce was mildly proud of himself for remembering everything Dinah and taught him about how to handle Roy's emotions toward his situation. 'I'm not as terrible at this as she thinks.' He injected the pain medicine into the IV, then sat next to Roy's bed again.

"'m tired…" Roy yawned.

"Sleep then. You don't have to worry about getting better fast."

"Ok." Roy snuggled down in the bed and Bruce covered him more with the blanket. "Bruce?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you…"

"You're welcome." Bruce watched as Roy was asleep within seconds. 'Take all the time you need to get better, Roy. I'll be right here until you do.'