I do apologize for being so brutally slow. It's my month of April resolution to not be this slow anymore, but the internet tells me that most people don't keep their month of April resolutions. Or most other resolutions. Still, I'll do my best.

"I can't believe that you're doing this for a few dead thugs," Tim grunted brokenly as he carried Dick down the stairs.

"It's like you don't even know me," Dick panted. "What else would I do with a couple of dead thugs?"

"If Bruce finds out, he's going to kill us both," Tim gasped. Dick stumbled and most of his weight came down on Tim's shoulders.

"He won't," Dick groaned.

"Right," Tim agreed. "He's the world's greatest detective. I'm sure he won't be able to figure out what happened when he finds our bodies on the stairs."

"Can we stop for a second?" Dick asked, swallowing audibly.

Tim was pretty quick about lowering Dick to the ground, setting him against the wall and dashing off for the closest garbage can. "How you doing?" he asked when he was back next to Dick who had his head between his knees and was breathing too deeply and rhythmically to be natural. He set his hand on Dick's shoulder, kind of rubbing it gently and soothingly. Dick managed a smile.

"Don't let Damian see you like that," Dick muttered. "I'm not sure if he'll try to break your face or blackmail you."

"If blackmail is the worst thing he can come up with, I'll handle it," Tim said. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I can't spent another six days in bed Tim," Dick said. "I can't."

"If Bruce hadn't raised you I'd say you're being ridiculous," Tim said. "But compared to him you're being sensible. Let me know when you're ready to try again. Or if you'd rather, I don't know, have me get you some pillows and blankets and ginger ale and leave you here for a while."

"You just don't want me throw up on you," Dick muttered.

"Obviously."

They sat there in silence for a few minutes. Dick wasn't sure talking was a good idea and Tim couldn't think of anything to say. But it wasn't an awkward silence, it was a friendly one. Dick looked up at Tim when the movement of lifting his head didn't sent shooting pains through his head, and nausea crashing around in his stomach and smiled at him. He was clearly deep in thought about something, focusing on a knot in the wood a few steps down. "We need to hang out more," he said.

"What?" Tim asked, tearing his eyes away from that spot and looking at him.

"We need to hang out more," Dick repeated. "Just for fun you know. When one of us isn't about to vomit." He paused. "Unless it's for a fun related reason anyway."

Tim laughed. "Sounds good," he agreed. "As long as you don't bring the demon child."

"I love the kid but some time apart never hurts us," Dick agreed. "Come on, help me up and let's give these stairs another try."

"You sure?"

"Yup."

"No puking?"

"Hope not."

"Okay then," Tim said. "I'm going to grab your elbow now." He stood up, moved the garbage can out of the way and reached down for Dick.

"Solid," Dick agreed, lifting his elbow up a few inches helpfully. Tim laughed.

They made it all the way down to the bottom to the stairs before Dick pointed down at the bench at the bottom of them. "Please?" he whined.

"Yup," Tim agreed. "Will you be okay if I leave you for a minute? I'm hungry."

"Go for it," Dick agreed. "Pretty sure I'll still be there."

He took a few deep breathes. Once that air had settled him a little he wondered where Damian was. Probably in the Cave. Tim had appeared shortly after Damian had left and Dick hadn't seen his little bird since. "At this rate Damian will have found the murder before I even get there," he muttered.

"Talking to yourself?" Tim asked as he ambled back with a sandwich.

"Looks like," Dick agreed. "I miss food."

"Alfred's rules," Tim answered. "Stay in bed, hospital food, daily reports."

"We're already breaking one of those," Dick pointed out. "What's one more?"

"No," Tim said. "You're won't be the one who has to clean it up. You look better though," he added, sitting down next to him. "I mean, not good enough to take out six armed street thugs or anything, but better."

"Thanks," Dick said cheerfully. "Tim, I'm," he broke off, glancing over at Tim for a second. "I'm glad you're here."

"That's just because the demon child would be the most unsympathetic nurse ever," Tim said with a smile.

"No," Dick insisted. "It's because you're my little brother too. Now can you help me up please?"

Tim kind of half grinned and half grimaced. Dick started wondering if there was a word for that expression, decided there should be one but before he could decide what it should be Tim was pulling him up.

The last set of stairs was hell. Dick was pretty sure that he blacked out there for several seconds because suddenly he and Tim were suddenly sitting on the floor with stairs digging into their backs. "Sorry," he muttered weakly.

"No biggie," Tim said breathlessly.

"Drake what are you doing?" Damian snarled from somewhere above his head.

"Helping me," Dick said, even though it came out as a slurred mess of syllables instead of actual words.

"Obviously not that well," Damian insisted. "Grayson, I have hacked into the surveillance tapes from around where I found the bodies but there are hours of footage. It's going to take forever to go through it."

"I'll go through it in a minute," Dick said. "When I get off the floor."

"Also off me," Tim pointed out from behind him.

"That'd be good too."

Damian sighed very loudly, reached down and kind of pulled Dick off the stairs. Somehow Dick ended up more or less on top of him long enough for Tim to scramble up and grab Dick's other side. "Med bay," Tim muttered and like some clumsy three headed monster they managed to stumble over to the bed.

"Thanks guys," Dick muttered as he grabbed onto the mattress and dragged himself up onto it. "I'll help in a minute okay? Just one minute." He was still mumbling those words as his head hit the pillow and his eyes shut.