DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.
Author Comment:
Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)
WARNING: I have nooooo medical knowledge. There are likely to be inaccuracies in this story. I hope you can enjoy it despite this.
Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much.... I want to thank Bessie 1 and Shaindl who I haven't been able to send thanks to because I don't have their e-mail addresses.
Leslie entered the room like a whirlwind.
"Out," she ordered calmly, but very firmly. "All of you, out. Alfred," she prompted, reaching her left hand out for her bag as her right settled on Dick's brow.
"Leslie..." Bruce started.
"Out," the doctor repeated. "The last thing I need is you hovering around the bed in my way. Go. I'll take care of him... Shit, look at that bruising."
"He hasn't said a lot..."
"Out, Bruce. Now," Leslie repeated, pulling the blankets down. "Good God, Dick. What the hell have you been up to?" the Doctor muttered, eying the severe bruising, her attention zeroing in on the primitive stitching. "Close the door behind you, Bruce. Alfred, I could use some extra light if you can manage it."
Bruce backed out of the room to join Tim and Roy who had both made hasty exits. Roy sported a stunned expression. In all the years he had known Batman he had ever seen anyone order him around.
"We've got some memberships open in the Titans. You reckon Dr. Thompkins is available?" Roy chuckled.
Bruce glanced at Arsenal and smirked half-heartedly, his eyes echoing his great concern. "Not even Alfred argues with Leslie when she's on the warpath," he explained. "Come on you two. We'll wait downstairs. I could use a drink."
"I'll drink to that," Roy agreed. He glanced at Tim. "You can have soda pop, junior."
"And I suppose you think you're outstandingly witty."
"I know it," Roy laughed, slipping his arm across Tim's shoulders. The teenager smiled. For the first time in days, he felt relaxed, but the feeling didn't last long. Thoughts of Gotham intruded on his good mood. Batman had to go back and take control.
"Bruce, we need to talk about what's happening in Gotham."
"Right now, Dick is what is important. Until I know he is safe and well, I'm not prepared to entertain anything else."
Tim's eyebrows drew down. Roy's rose and then he smiled. Yep, Bruce Wayne was acting like a father. Better late than never, Arsenal thought with satisfaction as he took a seat.
"But, Bruce, things are really bad."
"Things are always really bad," Wayne dismissed, handing Roy a drink. "Both the police and the army are active. They can handle it."
Tim glanced at Roy looking for support, but it was clear that Arsenal agreed with Bruce. "The Joker is calling for people to join him. He wants to set up an organisation that..."
"Arsenal, are you intending staying a few days?" Bruce asked.
"As long as Dick needs me."
Bruce nodded, though didn't sit. His eyes flicked to the stairs as he paced unconsciously.
"He'll be okay," Roy offered.
Bruce's eyes remained on the stairs, his mind on the injuries his boy had sustained.
Without warning, Tim leapt to his feet and raced toward the phone in the hall. "Barbara! I have to call her."
"No," Bruce called after him.
"What?" Tim asked stunned, pausing and glancing back over his shoulder.
Wayne pulled his eyes from the staircase and let them fall on Tim. "I said no," he repeated without explanation.
"But... she thinks... why?" Tim asked confused.
"Because I said no." With that, Bruce turned and climbed the stairs. He couldn't wait any longer. He wanted and needed to be at Dick's side.
Tim watched him go and turned to Roy. "How can he keep this from Barbara... from everyone? They have to be told."
Roy sipped his drink and frowned. Strangely, he felt he understood Bruce's reasons. Just over twelve months earlier, Lian had been kidnapped. When she was found safe and sound, friends and family had come from everywhere. Roy couldn't get his hands on his daughter as well-wishers had passed the child around. He had been so frustrated because he simply wanted his little girl to himself.
"He just wants some time," Roy explained.
"Time for what? I'm going to ring Barbara," Tim growled, starting for the phone once again. He had never openly disobeyed Bruce but he couldn't, in good conscience, keep this from the woman who was in love with Dick.
"Tim, leave it," Roy ordered. "A few hours isn't going make a great deal of difference and... he deserves to spend some time alone with Dick." Roy never thought he'd ever say such a thing, but he'd seen something in Bruce Wayne today that he recognized - a father's concern.
Tim's brow wrinkled as he considered Roy's words. Reluctantly, he conceded. "We better get going. Robin is needed out there. Bruce doesn't have any idea of how bad it is."
"He asked us to stay in case Strange returns with some thugs in tow."
"But what about..."
"Gotham City can look after itself for one night, Tim. Right now, Dick needs us here to watch his back. Considering the number of times he's saved both of our necks, I think we owe him at least that."
VVVVVVVVVV
Bruce stood quietly in the doorway for over twenty minutes watching as Leslie conducted her examination. Dick alternated in and out of consciousness throughout, mumbling answers to the doctor's questions. Finally, Leslie pulled the covers up around Dick, kissed him on the forehead, turned to Bruce and beckoned him forward.
"He looks worse than he is," Leslie assured. "The bruising is deep, but outside of two broken ribs there don't appear to be any other major injuries. The puncture wound wasn't from a rib but from something externally. He has a slight fever but that is due to exertion. His lungs don't sound good. He's definitely had water in them. I'll know more when he wakes up."
"His inability to remain coherent?" Bruce checked, staring down at Dick.
"There is some head trauma as evidenced by the bruising on the left side of his face, but I don't believe that is responsible for his conscious state. Quite simply, he's exhausted. He said something about not sleeping for three days and I'm inclined to believe him. He needs rest. I'm going to get some heat into his chest to help bring out the bruising. I've injected him with some painkillers, taped his ribs and re-stitched the puncture. I need to take some x-rays but that can wait until he wakes. If I need to reset the ribs, I can do it then." Leslie stepped up beside Bruce and slipped her arm around him. "He's going to be okay. I don't know where he's been, but someone has been caring for him and they did a pretty good job of it too."
Bruce didn't move. He swallowed and allowed all of the emotions he had been suppressing to surface. His body shuddered as realization settled - Dick was alive. His boy was back from the dead and Bruce Wayne's heart felt overwhelmed.
Leslie glanced at him. "Are you okay?"
Wayne didn't respond. He crouched down beside Dick, staring at his son intently. Slowly, he reached out and placed his hand on Dick's head, tears welling in his eyes.
Grayson stirred. He blinked up at Bruce and mumbled something incoherent, but the last three words were clear. 'I'm okay, Dad'. Grayson's blue eyes disappeared under his heavy lids and he exhaled deeply. Bruce Wayne's heart soared. It was far from the first time Dick had called him dad. The word had slipped out every now and then over the years when Dick was very tired or very excited. However, this had been the first time in a long, long time. That single word had always been important, but today, it meant more to Bruce than anything in the world.
Wayne smiled, smoothing Dick's hair back. "Yeah, I know. I just... Dick, I..." He had so much he wanted to say and yet the words he needed weren't there. "Dick... you..."
"He's asleep, Bruce," Leslie whispered.
"I know. I just... God, Leslie." Wayne dropped his head and desperately fought to maintain some semblance of control.
Alfred, who had been standing on the other side of the bed, walked around, stopped beside Bruce and dropped his hand down onto the emotional man's shoulder. "There will be plenty of time for you to talk to him when he wakes. Right now, sleep is the best medicine in the world. Isn't that right, Leslie?"
"Yes. A few hours sleep and he'll be more aware of what is going on around him."
Bruce rose to his feet and turned to the doctor. "Thank you for coming so quickly, Leslie."
"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Now, time for me to have a look at you. You seem to have lost quite a bit of weight," the physician diagnosed, critically. "When was the last time you had a decent meal?"
"I had some apple pie earlier," Bruce replied absentmindedly, his attention returning to Dick.
"You sit with him and Alfred and I will make you something," Leslie encouraged. Wayne didn't move. Alfred guided Bruce down into the chair beside the bed.
Once again Bruce was a million miles away. Leslie and Alfred exchanged a knowing look and exited the room. Both knew that Wayne had been given a second chance. Now, it was up to him how he intended using it.
Bruce reached out for Dick's hand and encircled it with his huge fist. The sensation of Dick's hand slipping from his grasp repeated for the hundredth time. "I've got you," Wayne promised.
VVVVVVVVVV
The computer screen flickered with images of Gotham; constantly changing as Oracle's sophisticated equipment intercepted various transmissions. Barbara was largely unaware of what was happening. She had tried to remain focused but the pain in her heart was too strong for her to ignore. In her hands she held a photo frame. Her emerald eyes brimmed with tears as she stared down at the face of the man she loved.
Her finger rubbed against the glass and she smiled through the steady stream of tears that were now cascading down her face. "I love you," she said aloud. She heard the words and her resolve crumbled. Dick was one of only a handful of people she had ever allowed to get close. Unlike so many others who had said things hadn't changed between them after she had lost the use of her legs, he had meant it. He had treated her no differently. As a matter of fact, it was as if he hadn't seen the chair at all. Unfortunately, she had continued to question how he could do so. Now, when it was too late, she realized that the genuine love he had shown had been real, not a result of sympathy and was the reason he simply hadn't cared about the chair.
Barbara pulled the photo to her chest and held it against her, her grief tumbling out of her in loud, unrestrained sobs.
VVVVVVVVVV
It was around nine a.m. the next day when Dick rolled over and gradually returned to his senses. His mind was foggy and blank. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were so heavy that he found it a real effort to get them to co-operate. His mind moved in a vacuum and then cleared.
"Bruce!"
Wayne awoke with a start and instantly reached for Dick. "It's okay," he assured the confused man.
"Bruce?" Dick stared around the room and a long sigh of relief echoed out of him. He'd made it home.
The billionaire pulled himself up straighter in the chair that had served as his bed, nodded and smiled. "Welcome back." Grayson's and Wayne's eyes connected and their souls touched. For several seconds neither spoke, allowing the nebulous connection between them to communicate all that was needed.
Finally, Dick sighed and his pale lips curled into a hint of a smile. "I didn't think I'd make it." He reached up and rubbed his eyes, the action evoking a groan.
"Take it easy," Bruce warned, rising to his feet and checking Dick's brow for fever. "You're black and blue from head to toe." One side of Dick's face was swollen and sporting a kaleidoscope of dreadful green, purple and blue bruising. The other, in stark contrast, was ashen, almost as white as the sheets he was resting on.
Dick became aware of a second person leaning over him. He smiled up at the relieved face hovering above him. "Hey, Alf."
Pennyworth patted Dick's head with great affection. The deep lines of worry that had been etched into his elderly face earlier were gone, replaced by a beaming smile that allowed the years to evaporate. "It is wonderful to have you home, son."
"It's good to be home," Dick whispered, raising himself up to hug the man who was the cornerstone in his life. No matter how crazy his life got, Pennyworth was the stable force Grayson could turn to. Alfred held Dick, careful not to hug too tightly so he didn't aggravate the horrific injures the young man had sustained. Silently the butler gave thanks to God for providing the miracle that had returned both of Alfred's boys to him.
Bruce watched the two express their affection for each other. They did it with such ease. Envy blanketed Wayne's heart. He loved them both and found himself longing for the same ability to express what he felt.
Tears brimmed in Alfred's eyes as he released Dick and watched Bruce lower the injured man back to the pillow. "You were very badly missed, my boy."
Before Dick could respond, his name was shouted from the doorway.
"Dick, you're awake!" Grayson glanced to his left and spotted Roy and Tim entering the room, both smiling like Cheshire cats and bouncing like jackrabbits.
"Guys."
Alfred stepped back to allow the two newcomers access to the bed.
"Hell, Robbie, you look a sight," Roy grimaced, eyeing his friend's battered and puffed face. "Looks like you went three rounds with Trigon."
Grayson smiled wearily and turned back to Bruce. "How are you?" Wayne's face was drawn from stress and loss of weight, but for the first time in days, his eyes were bright.
"Better than I was this time yesterday," Bruce admitted, quietly.
The grin left Dick's face and he reached for his former guardian's arm. "I... as soon as I could get on my feet I..."
Bruce squeezed the young man's shoulder. "Relax. It's not your fault. I just... I'm fine, now," he assured. For several more seconds they just stared at each other.
I'm sorry, Bruce.
Everything's alright. "Leslie said it was important to get you to drink some water as soon as you woke up," Bruce stated.
"I'll get some!" Tim cried, rushing off to do so.
Dick attempted to pull himself up, but his chest pinched with vigor, causing him to gasp. Two sets of hands darted out to assist him. "I'm okay. Just... "
"You look like shit," Roy stated seriously as he and Bruce steadied the injured man.
"Reckon I feel like it too, Speedy." Harper crouched beside the bed and watched Dick settle against the wall while Bruce began arranging the pillows behind his boy. Once again, Roy was stunned. This was not the man he knew as Batman.
"You look dreadful, Dick," Tim grimaced, handing his friend a glass of water.
"I don't believe I have ever seen you this badly beaten, Master Dick."
Grayson glanced at Bruce. "You got somethin' to add?" he demanded, an annoyed twang permeating his voice.
Wayne couldn't stop the smile dancing onto his lips. "How do you feel?"
Dick sighed and sipped the water. "To be honest, everything hurts. My head. My feet. My arms. My legs. Hell, even my damn ass." He smirked at the unimpressed look Alfred shot him.
"Considering the beating you've taken, it's to be expected," Bruce stated, noting that Dick's hand was trembling slightly. The billionaire took the empty glass from his son and watched with concern as Dick allowed his head to rest back against the wall. "I'll call Leslie."
"I'm fine, Bruce. Just dog tired. I walked for three days straight. Wasn't sure if I was going to make it." Dick's eyes closed momentarily.
"Dick, what happened?" Tim whispered. "We looked and looked for you."
© August 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.