I don't own Nightwing, Batman or any other characters. There's no point suing me because I'm a college student over my head in student loans. This is my first Nightwing fanfic…so sorry if it isn't up to the standards that the brilliant people at DC have created.

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Bruce sat at his side through the evening. Leslie came in every forty minutes to check on him, there was little change. She kept him calm and in minimal pain with regular doses of morphine.

Dick's dreams were warped by drugs and pain. He was back with his parents at the circus, he swung out to meet his father, who looked just like Bruce, who changed to Joseph Fyllen. Joseph smiled and dropped him. Dick fell to the ground, but never hit, he just fell forever. A blinding pain pierced his shoulder and spread through his body.

A little after three in the morning, Dick suddenly woke. He didn't know what woke him or even where he was. His heart pounded double time at his temples and his shoulder.

Bruce rested a hand on Dick's chest to hold him still. "Calm down or you'll rip out your stitches. You're all right."

Sweat soaked Dick's hair and Bruce could feel the heat under his palm. Dick groaned and held a hand to his stomach. Bruce held a glass of water to Dick's lips and helped him drink. Dick sunk into the pillows and tried to find a comfortable position. His bruised body ached with the start of a fever, his shoulder and head throbbed painfully and his stomach was upset from the morphine.

"Do you need anything?" Bruce brushed the young man's hair back.

"No." He breathed and drifted back to sleep.

Leslie came into the room. "How's he doing?"

"He had some water." Bruce looked back at her. "Seems a little warm."

She took Dick's temperature and saw that it was a few degrees above normal. "It might just be from him trying to heal, but I'll keep an eye on things."

She checked the bandage and Dick's blood pressure. She rested her stethoscope on his chest and listened to his labored breaths. Everything was stable, not good, but stable. Dick shifted under the touch. The pain he was in was evident on his face as he slept.

Leslie turned to Bruce. "If you need a few moments, grab a cup of coffee or something, I'll stay with him."

"Thank you." Bruce stood and left the room.

Dick surfaced from sleep and sighed. Leslie gently wiped his face with the damp cloth. "How do you feel?"

"Sick." He muttered.

"Do you want some more water?"

He shook his head a little. He coughed, rolled to his side and vomited over the side of the bed into the well placed trash can. Leslie held him so that he wouldn't strain his injury. After a few moments he rolled onto his back again. He rested his arm over his eyes and brought one knee up.

Leslie held his head and the water to his lips. He took a few tentative sips and she placed the glass on the table again.

"How much pain are you in?"

He shrugged a little. "Don't know."

Bruce came back into the room and sat at Dick's bedside.

Dick smiled a little. "Hey."

Leslie rested her hand on Bruce's shoulder. "He's still pretty drugged."

Bruce nodded and smiled slightly. "I'll keep an eye on him."

Dick coughed and held his left arm close to his chest to try and ease the pain. He struggled to catch his breath without stressing his broken ribs.

"'Spose you're wondering why I came here." Dick muttered with his eyes closed. "Know it crossed your mind."

Bruce didn't say anything.

"Didn't know where else to go, just wanted to come home." Dick slipped back into sleep.

Bruce wasn't sure how much of what Dick said was true and how much was influenced by the morphine and fever. Either way, there was at least some truth to the words. They both knew that a few words wouldn't fix things between them, neither Bruce nor Dick were very good at letting the past go, but perhaps it was a start.

When Dick woke again, it was Alfred at his side. His mind was slightly clearer, but the pain was sharper. His head swam and he felt too warm despite the fact that he was only in his jeans with a sheet over him. Before he was awake too long, Alfred held the glass of water to his lips.

"How are you feeling?"

Dick shrugged and pushed the sheet away. Alfred checked the young man's temperature. Dick saw Alfred's brow furrow slightly at the result.

"Bad news?" He whispered, his breath still tight in his lungs.

"It's a little higher than we'd like it to be."

Dick shifted on the pillows some in an attempt to ease his aching body. "How high?"

"103.5. Leslie went to find you some medication, unless I can convince you to go to the hospital."

"I'm all right." Dick sighed. "Was Bruce here?"

"He was at your side most of the night."

Dick winced as the pain sharpened. "I don't remember much."

Leslie returned to the room. She set her medical bag on the end of the bed and took a bag of intravenous medication out. She hung it on the bedpost above Dick's head.

"This will help with the infection and keep you hydrated." She inserted the line into the back of his hand and taped it down. "How's the pain?"

"A little sharper, but it's all right."

She started to prepare another dose of morphine.

"Please, I don't want it. I don't like being confused and clouded. It's fine."

"Dick, your body is currently under a lot of stress. The pain will only make everything worse. You need to rest."

His head swam and he struggled to keep his eyes focused on Leslie. "Please."

"I will give you a lower dose, but if you are unable to rest from the pain, then I will return to the previous dose."

Dick agreed only because he was too weary to continue the fight. He felt the needle in his arm and the flood of the drug a few minutes later. He couldn't fight sleep much longer and let himself slip back under.

He slept for most of the following day and night. His fever held, but the injury didn't look infected. He woke with morning light behind the curtains and his head throbbed. The chair at his bedside was vacant for the first time in nearly two days. He slowly pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The room spun, but after a few moments everything mostly went back to where it should be.

With his arms braced on the edge of the bed, he pushed himself to his feet. The intravenous line pulled at his hand and he tugged the needle out. He held onto the bedpost until he was sure that he wouldn't fall over. The walk to the door made him dizzy and nauseous, but he ignored that.

He made it out into the hall before he was discovered. Bruce found him leaning heavily on the banister at the top of the stairs. Dick's face was pale with a twinge of green and his breath was in short, painful gasps.

"Where are you going?" Bruce asked the question as one would ask about the weather.

Dick turned and leaned against the wall for support. "Home."

"Did Leslie clear you?"

Dick looked intently at the floor. "Not exactly, but I'm feeling much better."

"You look it." The sarcasm was impossible to miss.

"I just don't want to be any trouble."

Bruce knew he should say something along the lines of 'you could never be trouble' or something equally comforting, but it didn't seem to be the sort of thing that Dick expected from him.

"Sit down before you fall down." Bruce compensated by making the command as suggestive as possible.

Dick slid down the wall to the floor like he had no other choice. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes to the spinning and shifting around him.

Leslie came out into the hall. "Bruce have you seen, oh." She then saw Dick sitting on the floor. "I was wondering where you went."

Dick opened his eyes and tried to smile. "Thought I'd go home."

"The only place that you'll go is either back to bed or to the hospital. You shouldn't have been up at all."

Dick glanced up at Bruce, perhaps for help in defending himself against Leslie. For a moment, Dick thought he saw a slight smile.

"Bruce, either help me get him back to bed or please move out of my way."

Leslie and Bruce helped Dick to his feet and guided him back to his room. Dick sat heavily on the edge of his bed and tried not to pass out. Leslie reinserted the line into his hand and taped it down.

Dick had to admit to himself that the walk up and down the hall was about as far as he was able to go. He couldn't get rid of the dizziness. He moved back onto the pillows and closed his eyes. Leslie went about checking his temperature and blood pressure.

"How's it look?" He asked with his eyes closed.

"Still have a fever, no change there. I'd expect you to remain in this bed until that goes down. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." Dick knew better than to cross Leslie when her eyes burned angrily like that.

Bruce stood by the door, out of the way if Leslie should desire another target.

She turned and passed Bruce in the doorway. "Make sure he stays there."

"Yes, ma'am." Bruce walked into the room and sat in the chair.

For a moment Dick and Bruce exchanged a knowing glance and repressed smirk. Dick suddenly dissolved into a coughing fit. His breath was shallow and fast in an attempt to lessen the pain. Finally he sunk into the pillows, his pallor more obvious in contrast to his flushed cheeks from the fever.

Bruce handed him the glass of water and he took a few sips. He returned the glass to the table and closed his eyes. Dick fell asleep without trying, from the exhaustion of trying to do more than he was able.