Christmas in Blüdhaven: Peripherals
by Smitty
"You two better get moving," Dick said. "Tim's out there alone and he's not exactly running in top form. I'll stay here and run comms."
Cass lingered as Superboy headed up the stairs to the roof. "Because of your arm?" she asked, her head tilting quizzically. Dick froze.
"Huh? What's wrong with his arm?" Kon asked, sticking his head back into the room.
"Nothing," Dick returned. He fixed Cass with a hard stare. "There is nothing wrong."
She gave him a look that clearly told him to cut the crap.
"It's getting better," he muttered. "And it's not why I'm staying behind. Now get out there and keep an eye on Tim."
Her face was inscrutable beneath her mask. She gave him one last measure before turning on her heel and hustling Kon up the stairs.
Dick turned away and flexed his hand. He tapped each finger against his thumb and wondered if he could really feel the touch or if he was just remembering the sensation. He crossed the room to the computer and typed in a series of commands.
"I know you're listening," he said. "I know you gave Alfred the list of doctors. Thank you. G'night, Babs."
Author's Note: 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.