"Dick!"

"Dick!"

Barbara feels like she's been screaming his name forever.

What the hell happened?

She looks around the shop.

A car is where (moments ago) Barbara and Dick were sitting. Debris is everywhere: Tables and chairs, brick and mortar.

It's a total mess.

Worse, it's a total mess, and Dick's nowhere to be found.

Tears threaten to flow down her cheeks.

'What if... what if he's...'

No!

She shouldn't be thinking about that.

Dick Grayson cannot be dead. He can't be - he just can't.

Despite her best efforts, the floodgates open, and big fat tears flow out.

The redhead's so upset she didn't notice the approaching sirens or the police officers and firefighters entering the shop until big, muscular arms scooped her up. Suddenly Barbara's being carried away bridal style by some firefighter.

Barbara yells out, "Wait! What about Dick!"

She squirms, attempting to escape his grip, go back into the shop, and continue looking for her closet friend.

"Stay calm and try not to move, baby girl," A deep voice, presumably the firefighter, tells her.

"Dick is still in there! I tried to find him, I kept calling his name but I couldn't... He must be hurt badly!"

"If he's in there, we'll find him. Just focus on yourself for now." The firefighter keeps a tight grip on her while he shushes her.

She's finally released from his hold when he sets her down inside an ambulance on a stretcher, where a paramedic is waiting for them. The aforementioned paramedic wastes no time and begins to exam Barbara as soon as she's placed on the stretcher.

"What's your name?" A soothing voice asks her.

"Barbara," She answers.

"Good. My name's Ethan."

He pulls on a stethoscope, asking her to breathe in and out so he can check for internal injuries.

"Does anything hurt, Barbara? If something does, you need to tell me."

"No. Nothing hurts - I mean, my head hurts, and my arm stings a little. But what about Dick! Have they found him?"

He ignores her concern for Dick, focusing on her head.

"Let me look at your head. You might have a concussion." He uses a tiny flashlight he pulled from his pocket to check her pupils.

Her protests die on the tip of her tongue because right then, she hears a commotion.

Looking over at the damaged front of the ice cream parlor, she spots the limp body of a dark-haired boy being carried out on a stretcher. Dick is definitely unconscious: He's not moving at all.

Barbara can't even tell if he's breathing.

She attempts to run over to him.

However, Ethan stops her before she can even get a foot on the ground.

"You need to stay here," He tells her.

"They're taking Dick away! I need to be with him!" She pretty much screams at him, still attempting to leave. At the same time, Dick's being placed inside of an ambulance.

He, despite her obvious distress, remains calm.

"They're professionals. Let them do their jobs."

"He's my friend! Let me go, you-"

"Barbara!" A familiar voice interrupts Barbara's response.

She sees her father jogging toward her, "Dad!"

He hugs her when he reaches her.

Jim lets go of his daughter before looking to the paramedic.

"Is my daughter okay?"

"Nothing obviously life-threatening. Maybe a mild concussion and some abrasions, but nothing too serious, at least far as I can tell. However, she needs to be transported to the hospital for a more thorough examination."

Ethan raps his knuckles on a small glass window that provides a view into the cab (where she just now notices another paramedic is sitting) before yelling, "We're ready. Let's get moving!"

Jim joins Barbara in the back of the ambulance, closing its double doors behind him.

"Do you think Dick's okay, dad?" Barbara softly asks him.

"I'm sure he's fine, sweetheart. I saw an ambulance leaving as I pulled up."

'Good. Maybe he's already at the hospital.'

Soon enough, the vehicle roars to life, and they're on their way to Gotham Memorial.


Doing paperwork is an absolute pain.

But that's the price you pay as CEO of a billion-dollar, multinational corporation.

Admittingly, he does not involve himself in the day-to-day management - what CEO of a multinational corporation does? - but he has kept himself aware of the corporate business going on at WE.

Which is why Bruce has been in his office for the last hour looking over and signing paperwork. Before that, he spent what felt like three years, though ultimately turned out to be three hours, in a board room while some guy in a moderately expensive looking suit droned on (for like 30 minutes) about stuff that Bruce honestly can't be bothered to remember.

It was that boring.

Anyway, now that he's done with the meeting and almost done with his paperwork, Bruce is just about ready to run for the exit when his personal phone starts vibrating (he had previously placed it on vibrate to minimize potential disturbance).

He huffs in annoyance before dropping the pen he was holding and grabbing his phone, which laid inside his desk's drawer. Not recognizing the phone number, Bruce is initially tempted to ignore the call but decides to answer at the last moment.

"Hello?" He answers.

"Hi, my name is Ashleigh Stone. I'm a nurse at Gotham Memorial Hospital. And I am calling to speak with the parent or guardian of one... Richard Grayson."

Bruce suddenly finds himself quickly forgetting about his paperwork, more concerned about why he's getting a phone call from an - alleged - hospital about Dick.

"You're speaking to him: I'm Bruce Wayne. What's this concerning?"

He's genuinely mystified about why he would be getting a phone call from a hospital about Dick.

As far as he knows, Dick has never been a patient there. They have Leslie for whenever Bruce, Dick, or on rare occasions, Alfred gets seriously sick or suffers a severe injury that's beyond Alfred's competencies.

In Bruce's and Dick's cases, most of their injuries occur due to their nighttime activities. Obviously, meaning they can't go to a hospital for treatment of those injuries.

Or questions might be asked. Very uncomfortable questions. Especially regarding Dick. Bruce does not need to have some doctor seeing Dick hurt, thinking Bruce caused it and reporting him to CPS.

"Your son has been in an accident, and he has been brought here to Gotham Memorial for treatment."

Bruce thinks he hears his heart stop when those words come to his ear. For a moment, it feels like the world stops spinning; For a moment, he's his 8-year-old self again.

He takes a second to compose himself before saying, "What's his condition?"

"Critical, but stable." She continues, "He suffered some significant injuries due to the incident; Though the extent of his injuries is not believed to be life-threatening."

He allows himself to let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"However, before you arrive here, I would like to inform you that he is currently still unconscious."

Bruce doesn't quite know what to say, so a few moments of awkward silence pass before he says anything.

"Thank you for telling me that, and for the phone call. I'll be there as possible."

Bruce rather rudely hangs up without waiting for her response. It isn't his intention to be rude, but he has to call Alfred and let him know the situation. Alfred's waiting, down in the building's parking garage, for Bruce. The initial plan was to leave Wayne Enterprises and head directly back to the manor, sleep for a few hours, then head out on patrol tonight with Robin.

That plan has undeniably been derailed.

Bruce presses Alfred's contact on his phone's contact list; The line trills once and is in the middle of trilling a second time when Alfred answers.

"How goes the paperwork war, Master Bruce? Are we any closer to claiming victory?"

Normally Bruce might be inclined to make a sarcastic quip back or at least crack a small smile (out of fondness for the old man's sarcasm).

But these are not normal times.

"Alfred, there's been a change in plans: We're going to Gotham Memorial," Bruce solemnly tells Alfred while he's gathering his stuff before heading out the door.

"May I inquire about why we're making an evening trip to the hospital?"

"Dick's been in an accident." Bruce has already left his office and is approaching his private elevator.

"Oh, dear." He hears Alfred breathe out as he presses the indicated elevator button for the underground parking garage.

XXX

The hospital is about as busy as you would expect any big city hospital to be when Alfred and Bruce arrive at the non-emergency entrance. People are entering and leaving the busy hospital entrance, some in hospital uniforms (likely doctors and nurses), others in civilian clothes. Several people, most in uniform, linger - chatting amongst themselves, smoking, talking on their phones - in front of the building as Alfred pulls the shiny black Rolls-Royce up in front of the building.

"Master Bruce, perhaps you should go on ahead while I park the car."

"Sounds like a plan, Alfred."

Bruce promptly exits the car. He heads straight into the building, going to the front desk. A blonde lady is too busy talking to a brunette coworker to notice when Bruce walks up, only noticing him when he noisily clears his throat.

Blondie gives him a mean look that mostly softens when she takes in his expensive attire.

"What can I do for you... handsome?" She asks in a tone Bruce finds ridiculously sultry for a supposed professional. It takes all of his willpower not to wrinkle his nose in disgust at this woman's obtrusive flirting.

"Dick Grayson. Which room is he in?"

She gives him an overly flirty smile, "Sorry honey can't give out patient info just anyone ya know; Patient confidentiality and all that jazz."

"I'm his father."

She looks at him like he just told her he's a martian from Mars.

"You look too young to be a father."

"Adopted father."

"Oh! That explains a lot!"

She turns to her computer, types a few things before looking at Bruce again.

"Room 515. Fifth floor, pediatric ICU."

He goes directly for the elevator, not wasting any more time with the flirty woman, before pressing the button for the 5th floor.

Once he reaches his destination, he slips unnoticed into Dick's room. It's quiet, eerily quiet except for the sound of the medical equipment. Dick, for his part, is lying unnaturally still in his hospital bed.

Bruce takes a seat in a chair located next to the bed.

Dick looks so small and weak.

He hasn't look that way in a while. Bruce grabs the fifteen-year-old's hand, squeezing it, hoping for some sort of response.

None comes.


Alfred is nearly at his destination - Master Richard's hospital room (as has been texted to him by Master Bruce) - when he notices something that catches his eye. Or rather someone.

A familiar young red-headed lady...

Miss Gordon.

He notices the young lady sitting on a gurney (her face partially obscured by a curtain surrounding the gurney), holding an ice pack on her head, and is intrigued enough to stop by to check on her.

Alfred walks up to her gurney, closing the curtain fully behind him, "Miss Gordon?"

She looks up in surprise, "Alfred!"

In the excitement of the moment, she drops the ice pack, so Alfred picks it, dusts it off then hands it back to her. While handing her the ice pack, he takes note of the noticeable bump on her head.

"It's not as bad as it looks," She speaks up.

"May I asked how it happened?"

"Me and Dick were just talking and eating ice cream... when... some car just came out of nowhere, crashed into the shop. Dick pushed me and..." Tears start flowing from the young lady's eyes, with her voice breaking.

"He-he pushed me outta the way, Alfred! He saved me!"

Alfred wraps the obviously traumatized girl in his arms, comforting her, giving her his handkerchief so she can wipe her face. Once she calms to a manageable level, he asks her about her father's whereabouts.

"He... uh... he went to go get us some food. Probably from McDonald's or Wendy's or something like that."

"I see."

Normally Alfred wouldn't approve of a fast food dinner, but if there's ever a time where a McDonald's would be appropriate, this would have to be it.

Nothing further is said for several after that. Until Miss Gordon breaks the silence.

"Have you seen him?"

She doesn't need to say who "him" is: Both of them know who she's referring to.

"No, not yet; I was actually on my way to see him when I noticed you, Miss Barbara."

A few more moments of silence follow. Then, yet again, Miss Gordon speaks.

"How bad do you think it is?" She whispers, just barely loud enough for him to hear.

There isn't a clear answer in Alfred's mind to her question. He hopes with all his being that Master Dick hasn't been hurt too badly, and the optimist in him wants to believe that everything will be okay. But the realist in him knows that life often does not have happy endings.

He does not wish to lower her already dismal hopes, however, so he tells her the most positive thing he can.

"We should not indulge negative thoughts, Miss Barbara. Instead, you should try positive thinking. For all you know, Master Dick could be walking out the hospital tomorrow."

Even while he said it, the words felt empty, almost like a bald-faced lie.

The commissioner has impeccable timing as he parts the curtain before any more questions can be asked.

"They didn't have any cherry pies, so-" The commissioner stops speaking when he sees Alfred.

He sets the fast-food bag on the edge of the gurney.

"Mr. Pennyworth, is there a problem? Something I can help you with?"

Alfred releases the now very calm girl from his hold.

"There's no trouble, commissioner. I was just passing by and happened to notice your daughter; I just wanted to check on her."

"Oh... well then, thank you for that."

"It was no problem, commissioner."

He starts to leave when he remembers the other reason he waited with Miss Gordon for her father to return.

"Commissioner."

Jim, who was having an indistinct conversation with his daughter, turns his attention to Alfred again.

"Yes?"

"Do the police know who or what caused the accident?"

"Ahh... It's still preliminary, but it's lookin' like a pretty simple DUI case."

"So I assume the driver is in custody?"

The commissioner nods his head in affirmation, "We're charging him with DUI and fleeing the scene of an accident, at least for now; More charges may be added."

XXX

When Alfred finally arrives in Master Dick's private room, Master Bruce is standing vigil by the hospital bed.

"How is he, Master Bruce?"

"He has a few fractured ribs, a broken right arm, some head trauma, and no shortage of cuts and bruises." Bruce adds, "Dick has been unconscious since he was brought into the hospital. The doctor couldn't say how long any unconsciousness might last. Only that it might last a few hours at least or a few days at most."

Taking the seat on the other side of Master Dick's bed, Alfred observes the young master's bruised, bandaged body. He looks so small and vulnerable. It's been a while since he's looked that way.

Even Master Bruce is showing more vulnerability than usual.

"To think a drunk driver caused all of this," Alfred says, simultaneously voicing his thoughts and interrupting the silence that had taken hold.

Bruce, rather abruptly as if Bruce just got slapped in the face, turns his head to Alfred, clearly expecting some sort of elaboration.

"I had a conversation with the commissioner, in which he told me the police believe this to be a 'simple' DUI case - at least at this early stage."

For a few seconds, Bruce has a multitude of emotions visible on his face, mostly anger and relief.

Then his emotional mask takes over.

"What's Jim doing here?"

"Miss Barbara was apparently with Master Dick at the time of the accident; She was also hurt though to a far less significant degree."

"I wasn't aware they were hanging out today."

"Well, they are friends."

"I know," Bruce responds (a little too snippy for Alfred's taste). "I just didn't realize they were still close."

"I take it that you're still of the mind that Master Dick's friendship with Miss Gordon is a liability?"

"..."

Bruce's silence in response to Alfred's question might as well be a resounding yes.

Alfred sighs.

Master Bruce has never been particularly fond of Master Dick's friendship with the commissioner's daughter.

It's nothing against the girl personally, just that her relationship with Jim creates an intolerable risk (at least in Master Bruce's mind) of exposure. Then there's the fact she's far too smart for her own good. Lastly, Alfred suspects there's a control issue: Allowing Master Dick to have a romantic relationship with someone would (again in Master Bruce's mind) lessen his control over the young lad.

Granted, Bruce isn't the most emotionally sensitive person.

But surely, even he must've noticed how Master Dick's face lights up whenever her name is so much as spoken. Or maybe two years ago, when for several weeks after Miss Gordon's unfortunate encounter with the former district attorney, Robin spent curiously spent a large amount of time patrolling her neighborhood. One might say the boy was standing watch like a sentinel (or a teenage boy who spends his nights fighting crime and has a crush on a girl but is acting remarkably shy).

Of course, his work with his coterie of young heroes has kept him busier lately. Consequently, there is a dearth of time to spend with Miss Gordon.

Miss Gordon has clearly accepted the reality - or at least her reality given the truth so far seems to elude her - given she doesn't even bother calling to make plans with Dick anymore.

She stopped calling after the third, "I'm sorry, Miss Gordon. Dick is away at summer camp and won't be back till late August, at the earliest." or "Unfortunately, Master Bruce had a last-minute business trip, and Master Dick elected to accompany him, so he regrettably won't be able to accompany you to the zoo.".

He's told that girl so many lies, it'll be a relief the day he won't need to lie (to her) anymore.

Alfred's about to prod Master Bruce about his disdain for Master Dick's and Miss Gordon's friendship when a noise from Master Dick stops him cold.

"Bbs... Ba... bs."

He continues mumbling incoherently, with his head moving ever so slightly.

"Dick!"

"Dick!"

Alfred's just about to suggest Master Dick was probably mumbling in his sleep and that Master Bruce stop yelling when Master Dick's eyes open. Only slightly at first, then fully.

He still seems a bit out of it, but it's certainly a big deal nonetheless.

The young lad opens his mouth, attempting to talk. However, his throat must be dry after so much time spent unconscious because his voice comes out very raspy.

Alfred bends down so his ear is close enough to Dick's mouth he can hear even a whisper.

"Where's... Babs." Comes out of Dick's mouth, very hoarsely, more as a breath than words before his eyes close once again.