Bad Day
By
Angelina
As Batman knelt on one of Gotham's many piers with his injured son lying at his feet, he couldn't help but think how bad this day had turned out to be.
It had all started that morning when Bruce had been woken by the sounds of someone vomiting in the bathroom down the hall. Quickly hurrying down the hall, the man found a very pale Tim cleaning his face of vomit with a moistened washcloth.
Tim looked up as Bruce walked in. "Flu," he muttered.
Bruce nodded and escorted his ward back to bed, being sure he was well settled in before leaving to find Alfred.
Strange, Bruce wondered to himself, Alfred never sleeps in this late.
The billionaire made his way down the grand staircase and down a long side hall to find Alfred's apartment at the end. The apartment consisted of a separate bathroom, kitchenette, a tiny sitting room, and an equally small bedroom. Many years ago Bruce had tried to get Alfred to move into one of the many unoccupied bedrooms in the Manor, but Alfred had refused, preferring to live in the space the deceased Wayne's had allotted to him.
When Bruce knocked on the door and received no response, he opened the door to find Alfred slumped on his threadbare couch in nothing but a large green sweater, union jack boxers, and gartered socks.
"This is going to be a long, bad day," Bruce mumbled to himself after taking one look at Alfred and hearing another round of retching above him in Tim's bathroom.
Pulling his cellphone out Bruce dialed a number he knew by heart.
"Bruce," Dick picked up on the second ring, "what on earth are you doing calling me during class?"
"Sorry Dick, I need some help."
Bruce heard Dick sigh on the other line, "what is it this time?"
"Tim's got the flu."
"So, get him some medicine and give him to Alfred," Dick paused to listen to someone on his end of the line, "hold on Bruce. Professor crabby pants is threatening me bodily harm if I keep talking on my phone in class. Yeesh, I'm leaving already."
Bruce felt bad as he heard the professor giving Dick an earful for having his phone on in class.
"Alright, I'm free. So why are you calling me over the flu?"
"Alfred's got it pretty bad as well and I can't take care of both of them and my board meeting."
Bruce heard Dick sigh on the other end and the sound of a car unlocking, "I'm on my way. You owe me though."
Bruce hung up the phone and took his usual seat in the front parlor as he waited for Dick to arrive.
It had been a little over a year since Dick had decided to go to a local University.
Bruce had been reluctant to let the boy go, but had eventually agreed to let Dick move out. His relationship with the boy had become more strained over the years and as much as Bruce wanted to hold onto Dick forever, he knew that if he did he would eventually lose him altogether.
But it ended up proving to be a good decision as Bruce had found that letting Dick go was the best thing he could have done for both of them as their relationship began improving.
He found that whenever he needed his first son, Dick would always be there with his usual joking and wordplay.
Dick arrived shortly afterwards, unceremoniously throwing open the front door, and immediately making his way to the fridge to raid the leftovers from the previous night's roast beef.
Bruce grimaced at Dick's bad manners but let the matter go as he had probably called the boy over before he could have lunch.
After Dick had finished eating, the two set to work. Bruce to deliver medicine and take care of his board meeting over the phone and Dick to make dinner and help Bruce clean up vomit from the Persian rug in Tim's room.
Really, Tim and Alfred probably would have been better off without their aid as Bruce got the dosing instructions wrong for Tim, gave Alfred Dramamine instead of fever reducer, and Dick burned dinner.
"You guys are completely incompetent, you know that?" Tim muttered. He was currently sitting on the couch watching a documentary on the rise of the Third Reich. He glared at Bruce as the billionaire tried for the third time to get the proper dosage. He finally succeeded and tried to shove the measuring spoon in Tim's mouth.
"You do know you're giving me cough syrup for nausea, right?" Tim pointed out, not even glancing at the measuring spoon currently shoved in his face.
Bruce glared at the boy, trying to ignore the laughter coming from the kitchen as Dick listened in on his failure. Tim swiped the medicine bottles from Bruce and measured out the proper dosage of the correct medication for himself. "Why don't you two go on patrol before Dick manages to burn the house down?"
"I heard that!" Dick hollered as he tried to clean a pancake off the ceiling.
Bruce's eye twitched, he did not want to know how that got stuck up there.
"Seriously you two are the Dynamic Duo, you know the periodic table backwards, you can come up with an antidote for just about any poison known to every race thus far encountered, you can fight off the galaxies worst, you can save the entire world, and yet you're clueless when it came to dealing with common place illnesses or making pancakes," Tim sighed as he got up.
"Where do you think you're going?" Dick asked as he finally succeeded at pulling the pancake off the ceiling, only to lose his balance and fall off the counter, landing on his rear end, the pancake falling on his face as he did so.
"I'm going to take care of Alfred since both of you clearly have no clue what you're doing," replied Tim in a bored tone as he disappeared down the hall leading to Alfred's apartment.
Dick picked himself up from the floor, chucking the pancake in the garbage, "So, how about, up for an early patrol?"
Bruce shrugged and the two meandered off for the Batcave, an amiable silence falling between them like it had for all the years they had been Batman and Robin.
Patrol had just added to Bruce's already lousy day.
Bane and Killer Croc had teamed up to rob a warehouse that night. The fight had been a bad one. Batman came away with a torn costume, a few bruised ribs, and a gash over his right eye that he would have a hell of a time covering up. Nightwing came away with several cracked ribs, a dislocated pelvis, and a concussion.
And once again, Batman owed his life to his partner. The young man had taken the rather nasty hit that Batman hadn't seen coming his way until it was much too late.
Stumbling onto the pier outside the warehouse, Batman gently laid Nightwing on the ground, taking stock of his injuries.
In an ideal situation Batman would have gotten the kid back to the Batcave where Alfred would have sedated him so he and Bruce could reset his hip and bandage his ribs. But the Batcave was at least half an hour away if Bruce broke eight traffic laws and Nightwing had refused the sedative he had tried to give him. Bruce was either forced to reset the limb on his own, or risk further aggravation of the injury transporting Nightwing back to the Batcave. He chose the former.
"I'm going to have to reset this," Batman instructed as his hands ghosted over his son's dislocated limb.
"Just, get it over with," Nightwing ground out through clenched teeth.
Batman complied and reset with the limb with a quick jerk, Nightwing's cry of pain still echoing in his ears hours after the task was done.
Carefully, Batman helped Nightwing stumble back to the Batmobile.
The ride back to the Batcave was silent save for Nightwing's labored breathing. Batman could tell how hard Dick was trying to hide the pain he was in as he struggled to take breath. And again, Batman found himself cursing this no good day.
Once back to their base, Bruce helped Dick over to a medical table where he bandaged the boy's cracked ribs and took care of his cuts and bruises. His concussion would have to be checked hourly, but both heroes were well used to that routine by now.
Dick was fairly out of it by now, the pain medication and concussion putting him in a state somewhere between sleep and the waking land.
"What a day, a no good, rotten day," Bruce mumbled to himself as he finished patching Dick up. Everyone in the house was now either injured or sick.
When Bruce was finally satisfied with the patch job on his son, he shook the boy.
However, Dick didn't budge, instead the eighteen-year-old stuck him arms out like a toddler desiring to be carried. Bruce sighed, "you're getting too big to pick up, Dick."
Dick looked up at him with half-lidded eyes and an expression of utter exhaustion and pain. After a minute, Bruce relented and gathered the young man into his arms as he had done many times over the years.
"You know what you did tonight was reckless," Bruce ventured as he boarded the elevator.
Dick gave a noncommittal grunt.
"You shouldn't give yourself up for me like that."
Dick fixed his father with a glare worthy of Batman.
Bruce sighed, "how many times will I have to tell you not to take risks like that?"
"Always one more," replied Dick, his voice scratchy.
Bruce smiled sadly at that, it would always be one more time. At least until one more time got him killed, like it had Jason. No, he wasn't going to think about that now, not when he was just climbing out of the black hole of depression he had slipped into after his second sidekick's death.
Exiting the elevators, Bruce carried Dick up the stairs, ignoring the aching muscles in his back and arms. "You're getting heavier, have you been eating right?"
Dick mumbled something about DaddyBats that Bruce chose to ignore. Arriving at Dick's old bedroom (and the one he still used whenever visiting), Bruce deposited his son on the bed, tucking him in carefully. Satisfied that Dick was comfortable, Bruce turned to leave, "I'll be back in an hour to check on you."
He was almost out the door when a voice stopped him, "thanks, dad."
Bruce smiled as he left. Maybe this day hadn't been that bad after all.
Angelina: I took some artistic liberties with this as the new episode left so many more questions than answers. I have no clue if Dick is still in Gotham, going to college, or in Bludhaven. He's only eighteen and he seems to have a good relationship with Bruce so my comic history is out the door (and even that history has been revised more times than I want to count).
In other news, I just watched the new YJ episode and Greg Weisman is going to die a slow and painful death for what he has done. I am not very happy, and am only watching the show to figure out what happened in the five years they decided to skip!
That being said, however, I am excited to see what this new team will bring. And Superboy and Megan have broken up *happy dance* Maybe now Greg will consider adding some depth to relationships (I'm not opposed to them getting back together as long as we get something other than a one-dimensional relationship).
Sigh, I never wanted Tim Drake…
Arthur: Just get on with your ridiculously long Author's Note…
Angelina: Shut up, Arthur, no one asked you what you thought.
Arthur: In that case, I for one am very intrigued by this new twist.
Angelina: Of course you are…
Arthur: I wish to announce, since I am the muse, that I will not be giving Angelina any plot bunnies for the new series for a while (okay, maybe you get some batclan stories, but that's about it). We both wish to get comfortable with the entire cast of new characters and the new personalities that the old characters will have after five years.
Angelina: If this causes me to lose any readers, I apologize and blame it on Arthur.
Arthur: Don't even bloody think about blaming your idiocy on me, I most certainly didn't ask to get stuck inside your head.
Angelina: Shut up, Arthur!