Christmas in Blüdhaven: Frozen
by Smitty
Dick Grayson popped off the high bar, executed a crisp half-twist, toes pointing to the ceiling of the cave, and regrasped for his dismount swing. He adjusted for his disrupted center of gravity and stuck the landing.
"I notice," Alfred's dry voice said from behind him, "that you are demonstrating uncharacteristic good sense in regard to your injury."
Dick glanced down at the arm he'd so carefully bound to his chest with medical tape. The sling had been hell to fashion on his own. He wasn't entirely sure whether Alfred was being sarcastic or not.
"Are those Christmas cookies?" he asked instead, swiping a gingerbread man from the tray Alfred held. "Already?"
"I thought it best to make them now, while I still have an audience," Alfred replied. He raised an eyebrow. "I had expected you to retreat at the earliest possible opportunity."
Dick glanced at his shoulder, but he knew that wasn't an excuse. He'd gotten up and walked away from worse before. He hadn't spent weeks letting Alfred baby him.
"What is it, Master Dick?" Alfred asked softly.
Dick unwound the gauze and flexed the hand of his damaged arm.
"My fingertips, Alfred," he said finally. "I can't feel them."
Author's Note: That bit sort of ended up getting written out of order. But rules are rules. Also, I'm pulling all my medical knowledge out my ass, so if anyone happens to know for sure that I'm screwing up...I only have two hundred words. Leave me alone. ;)
Christmas in Blüdhaven is written in the same general style as Jingle Bells, my attempt to write 24 200-word ficlets--one per day until Christmas, sort of like an Advent calendar--with characters from around the DCU. Christmas in Blüdhaven differs, however, by each of the ficlets being loosely linked and progressing toward a greater conclusion. The title was derived from the Trans-Siberian Orchestra's "Christmas in Sarajevo" because everything and everyone in Blüdhaven is currently something of a wreck.