I told you it wasn't abandoned.

Don't worry. I'll post again this week.

I borrowed a few lines from the short story "State of Grace" by Harold Brodkey. It's a good story, if you haven't read it.

Chapter 9

Nightwing woke to a monotenous beeping. His mouth felt dry and he had a splitting headache. Moving was difficult; he body hurt...everywhere. It was rare that he ever felt like this after a fight. But this had not been a normal fight. There had been earthquakes, then the aftershocks, then the man in the shadows. He had appeared out of nowhere; the other men had already disposed of when he caught a glimpse of those glowing eyes. After that, everything went dark.

Opening his eyes he saw that he was in the medical lab of Titans Tower. Raven was in the room, that he could feel. To his right, curled in a ball, he saw her asleep on a chair. He weighed heavily whether to wake her or not; he knew she'd been through a fight every bit as difficult as his own and was tired. After all, it must have been she who'd saved him. But his throat was so dry. All he needed was some water.

He had meant to call her name, but instead mumbled "Nuhg," sounding more like a moan than a name. It was all that could come out of his mouth.

She stired and took a large, waking breath. His heart sank watching her come out of her peaceful sleep.

The look she gave him was one of concern, though she didn't say anything.Water. He thought over and over in his head. Water. After a few moments she got up and went to the sink. She returned to his side with a cup of water. She placed one of her her hands behind his head and lifeted it up a bit before placing the cup to his lips.

"It's... it's okay," he spat out, coughing a little as he spoke. "I got it." Having her feed him like a child made him feel like one. Taking the cup from her hand, he began to drink, though he did allow her to continue holding his head up.

"How do you feel?" she aske once he finished the cup.

"Like I was run over by a truck." He managed to push himself into a sitting position. A new twinge of pain hit his lowwer back. "And then it backed up and ran over me again."

She smirked. "That good, huh?"

He would have scowled at her, had he the energy to do it. Instead he just stared pasively. "What about you?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she responded then turned away. "I'm fine."

Why is she lying?

"Raven," he pushed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not the one in a hospital bed."

This time he really did scowl. He didn't like to be made to feel weak. At least she'd left his clothes on. The look on her face as she turned to face him made him even more upset. It was a look his mother had often used on him when he was little and he had done something unimaginably stupid. It puzzled him how anyone so lovely could be so impossible. She somehow managed it so that he hated her far more than he loved her. 1It was only after he started living with Bruce that it turned the other way around.

Where did that thought come from? Nightwing hardly ever thought about his mother except around the aniversary of her death. He specifically pushed all thoughts about her out of his head as to not distract himself from whatever problem was at hand. And there was always some problem at hand. Like now, why wouldn't this headache go away?

"Can you remember what happened?" she asked, sitting on top of the counter, next to the sink.

"Yeah. I was on the other helecopter, fighting with those guys who were taking the medicine. They were all down, then this other one just... appeared. His eyes were glowing. It was too dark for me to make out his face. I know that I wasn't shot, something else must have taken me out. Probably some sort of sonic weapon. Unles it was a psycic blast from that guy, and that's more your department of expertise... Raven?"

She seemed distant. Her gaze remained unfocused to a random spot on the wall. He knew she was thinking about something, but of course, had no clue what she was thinking about. He didn't even know what she was feeling. He wasn't an empath like her. This was all making him mad again. He didn't want to be there any more.

Summoning all his strength, he moved himself to the edge of the bed and swung his legs over the side.

"I don't think you should..." she began, but he cut her off with a death glare.

"I'm not staying here any longer."

Without so much as a wince, he took the medical tape off and pulled the I.V. out of his arm. He just rolled his sleeve down, not even bothering to wipe the blood away.

"You're on the strongest pain killers we have right now..."

"So what else is new?" he grumbled between his teeth.

"You're still weak. You need to rest."

"I can rest in my room," the replied curtly, stifling all his rage. Why would she call me weak to my face?

Taking a few steps, he stumbled, nearly falling. Raven caught him, slinging one of his arms over he shoulders and wraping an arm around his middle. It angered him, but he didn't protest.

Slowly, the pair made their way to the elevator down the hall. This feels familiar, he thought.

They took the elevator down two flights to the floor where all their bedrooms were situated. For some strange reason, it looked to Nightwing as though the hall had grown longer. Each step he took seemed to be weighed down. Will we ever reach my room? he wondered. This weight. What is this weight?

Finally, they came to somehow be in front of the door. The walk had taken a lot out of him. He wished Raven had just appeared them in his room from the start but supposed it was better he got himself there. At least he could do that.

He sat down on the edge of his bed. It was strange; he hadn't slept here in more than a year. Somewhere in his throat he found his voice.

"What did those machines say was wrong with me?"

"Nothing," she stated simply, removing his gloves as she spoke.

"Then why do I feel this way? I've been beaten worse, but it's never lasted this long."

"Well, on top of being blasted with a shot of what I'm fairly certain was dark magic, you haven't slept in four days. You're body is just plain refusing to go on until you rest." She splipped his boots off next.

"That rediculous. I've gone at least a week in the past without-- uhh, what are you doing?" he asked as she began to remove his shirt.

"Putting you to bed." With that, she yanked the garment over his head folded it neatly. The gentleness with which she folded struck him as nothing else since her return had. She's back? It finally hit him. Here. With me. In this place.Somehow, her simple act melted away all his defenses. It seemed he was always stripped of his defenses around her. Alone with her her, he tended to be most vulnerable and permitted himself to be...weak. He realized just how tired he was, not just physically. Innitially he had be enraged by her return and her mere presence, but it had been an effort to keep up the guise. He was tired of forcing himself to be angry and unapologetic toward her. He was tired of acting like he no longer... acting like...

Her hand was on his chest, pushing him backward onto the bed. He resisted, clutching her hand.

"Richard, please lay down. You need sleep."

"Stay?"

He met her eyes and saw her panic. He felt her tense. She never tensed, or at least hadn't when they...

"You need to sleep," she said carefully.

"I will. I'd just..."

Was he too proud to say it?

"It'd be easier if you were here."

Her face softened and her muscles relaxed. Without a word, she took off her cape and laid it over the back of the chair at his desk.

"Are you really going to sleep?" she asked.

At that he smiled. "What? You afraid for you honor?"

Her eyes narrowed at his cheeky comment. "I'm just going to pretend that's the pain killers talking. Move over."

Pulling the covers back, he huddled himself against the wall. It felt frightening the way her body was next to his all of a sudden. It had been so long; even in the past four days, he'd been trying to keep his ditance from her. What was he supposed to do? He didn't even know where to put his hands. He couldn't remember it being this awkward the first time she was in his bed.

He began to tense as her body lay down. She must have sensed it because she took his hand, wrapping his arm around her body and tucking his hand beneath her chin. It surprised him that she would take initiative like that. Why was she so comfortable when he was a nervous wreck? That hardly seemed fair. Hadn't she been completely on edge earlier that evening? What calmed her so quickly?

His thoughts were shortly interrupted by the exhausted Titan beside him.

"Sleep."

And he did. Just like that, her words made him realize how dumb he was being and reminded him how tired he was.

1The State of Grace, by Harold Brodkey