Dick Grayson: [looking at Bruce Wayne's wounds] You should go to the hospital and get that looked at properly.
Bruce Wayne: I'm fine.
Dick Grayson: You're fine? That's great. I'm gonna put that on your tombstone. "He said he was fine. He was wrong."
Sineater said this screamed Tracy…and she's not wrong…
As Virgil knelt beside his brother and ran the Medscanner over he heaved a sigh at the ambers and reds the machine flagged up.
Scott, fidgety under the scrutiny, attempted to bat him away several times.
'I'm fine, Virgil.'
His brother wasn't fooled for a moment. Even without the scans the sheer quantity of blood outside Scott's body, not to mention the obviously broken bones – no, Scott, arms do not bend in that direction naturally – were a clear indicator that he was not, in fact, fine.
'You're fine? That's great, Scott. I'm gonna put that on your tombstone. "He said he was fine. He was wrong."'
The pressure he was applying got a little more and Scott grunted. His brother had a point, sure, but Scott would never admit he was anything less than fine. He was the eldest, and he couldn't show weakness to a younger brother.
'If you are so fine, I guess you can fly One home, then.'
Ok, now that sarcasm dripping from his brother was just uncalled for.
'Honestly, Virg. I'm fine.'
'If you can sit up then I'll think about your definition of fine.'
Sit up, right, that couldn't be too hard. Could it?
Turned out it was too hard to do with a broken arm and whatever else was wrong with him. Scott wasn't going to admit defeat, though, and he struggled even harder until a gentle hand rested on his good shoulder.
'Admit it, Scott. You are far from fine.'
Scott's eyes flashed, but he really couldn't move. The hell he was going to admit that, though.
Virgil sighed and busied about getting Scott ready for transferring to Two.
'Alan, you have One. John, let Grandma know we're on our way back please. Protocol Indigo Bravo has been initiated.'
'FAB,' both brothers chorused back.
Scott struggled harder to move, but Virgil had already strapped him down, and as he watched his brother turned to the medkit and withdrew something out of his sight.
Wait – what was Protocol Indigo Bravo? He'd not instigated that. Scott opened his mouth to demand an answer as Virgil took hold of his good arm. He looked down at the needle and then up to the medic. His brother was looking apologetic but slid the needle in and injected the contents before he could offer his customary protest.
Scott was asleep before Virgil and Gordon had lifted the stretcher.
Gordon watched over him fondly. Scott's fast metabolism meant that he often burnt through sedatives far earlier than the average person would, but hopefully this would last long enough for his arm to be set.
His eldest brother really was an idiot when it came to looking after himself.
