Chapter Twenty-Two:
"Good News & Bad News"
In was early the next morning when the cutest nurse Dick had every seen—she must have been in her mid-twenties—came into his hospital room and informed him that she was there to change his head bandages, as per doctor's orders.
She also had instructions, if he chose to have one, to help him to take a bath.
Despite the nice offer, he knew he could use one, he decided to only take her up on the head bandages, and that he would save the bath for another time. Besides, it would avoid any unpleasantness later. If Barbara walked in and found him naked with another woman, it would be disastrous, even if it was a nurse.
She offered to get a male nurse, but he declined even quicker.
Barbara wasn't in the hospital room when the nurse had arrived. She had awoken earlier and decided to have a wash, and when the hospital boutique was open, chose to pick out some new clothes, because she had only brought three days worth, and she wasn't prepared to drive all the way back to Bludhaven to grab a change of clothes from her apartment, then drive all the way back.
Dick told her it was her treat and she was to pick out anything she wanted. Besides, with all the money Damian had made him, he could more than afford it. It was a thank-you gift for all the support she had given him during these last couple of rough weeks—or had it been months?—He wasn't sure. He mentally laughed, because he couldn't remember. And he figured that was the best kind of forgetfulness.
He couldn't think of what his life would have been like if he didn't have his family and friends, and he didn't wish to. The attack on him had failed and he knew he would soon be back in action.
When the cute nurse was finished, she smiled, and asked, "Are you sure you wouldn't care for a sponge bath, Mr. Grayson?"
Tempted, oh so tempted, he thought.
She was flirting with him, it was obvious. "I'm sorry, but I have to decline," he said with an innocent smile. "But thank-you for your kindness, I really appreciate everything you've done for me over the last couple of days."
"I could say it was all part of my job, but…"
Grayson's stomach suddenly growled ruining the moment, or saving him. Either one, Dick took it.
He had this reputation of being a lady killer, and in this hospital, he still had it. The nurses had fond over him here—even fought over him to be his nurse. He even overheard that one nurse said he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. But some nurses never returned after one hard look from his significant other. It was the kind of stare that said: "If you touch my man, I'm kill you!"
Barbara Gordon wasn't necessarily a jealous woman, but when it came to him, there was a certain: He's mine! Hand's off! attitude she expressed that seemed to filter off her and that all other women intuitively read.
He knew it may just be a male's fantasy, but if Barbara was ever in a mud wrestling match with all the nurses that had cared for him over the last couple of days, she would win hands down—no contest!
A lot of the adversary women he fought against over the years had mentioned he had a nice butt, but his face was just as endearing and mysterious behind the mask, some said. He had a certain: je ne sais quoi, as the French say: an: "I don't know what" factor when he was in his Nightwing costume that charmed all the ladies. Or, maybe, it was that they adored him for his chiselled body pressed into his tights? He had to admit, and it sounded a bit narcissistic, but he liked the attention.
But Barbara Gordon was the woman he truly loved more than anyone in the world. And no one else even compared to her.
He smiled a little embarrassed, putting a hand to his stomach. "I'm sorry, I haven't had anything to eat this morning."
She smiled regardless of the disturbing noise. "Let me guess, you want some cereal?" For some reason, the way she said it make him feel childish, but he nodded anyway. She told him the list of cereals the hospital offered and he choose one. "Let me see if I can add it to your breakfast menu. The menus are all chosen in advance, but I'm sure a change can be made." And she winked at him.
He was about to wink back, when Barbara walked through the doorway, and he suddenly produced a straight-face. Flirting was not on the breakfast menu and he wondered just how much she heard. It was mostly one-sided, but that never mattered to woman.
He cleared his throat. "Hey Barb, welcome back," he said openly. "The nurse here was just wrapping my head with new bandages."
The nurse fluffed Dick's pillow. "Yes, I was," she said with honesty. Barbara crossed the room to the other side of the bed with a plastic bag with the hospital's boutique's logo on it. "Your recovery is coming along quite nicely, Mr. Grayson," the nurse then spoke conversationally, "and I wouldn't be surprised if you were discharged soon. The surgeon did an excellent job on your injuries. You won't even notice the scars when your hair grows back. Some say if you shave your head regularly, it grows back even thicker than before."
"He's already thick-headed enough as it is," Barbara said curtly.
The nurse didn't have a response for that. Instead she made sure Dick's sheets were tucked around him, as per her job.
Dick pouted. "That wasn't nice," he said, but he knew she knew what was happening. It was a woman's intuition. And he knew enough to see the explosive energy between these two hissy cats. Unfortunately, for the nurse, she wouldn't have a chance against Barb. "I'm glad to hear it. I've been told I have nice black hair."
"Black is my favourite colour," the nurse replied.
"Black isn't a colour," Barbara said back. "Neither is white."
"Regardless, I like it. And my favourite superhero has nice black, wavy hair. He also has a dreamy body when he fits into those nice tights that show off his cute butt." She paused for a moment. "Sorry, I kind of have a thing for dark, mysterious men—like Nightwing."
Dick curled his lips and hid a smirk, then rolled his eyes to look away to avoid from Barbara's somewhat bewildered look. If only the nurse knew that she was tucking the covers of her dark and mysterious fantasy man, she'd probably die with from a fangirl crush.
"But Nightwing hasn't been seen in a while," the nurse continued. "Rumour has it he was recently hurt badly and he'd recovering somewhere. People say he had been shot, at least that's what social media is saying."
Barbara's mood softened. "Even heroes have their off days, I'm sure he's fine."
"I hope so. A lot of people really appreciate what he does and how much he sacrifices. He's a real hero. There's even a Nightwing Appreciation Page, with stories from people he's helped and deeds he's done for Gotham and some from Bludhaven." She recited the web address. "He also helped me and my mother when our building was on fire. He rescued us when the flames became too much for the firefighters. I suppose that's when I really became a fan of his," she said retrospectively. "Although, who wouldn't love that cute rear end." She put a hand to her mouth embarrassed. "Oops, I'm sorry. I'm saying too much."
"That's okay," Barbara said with a smile. "I'm sure if he were here he'd appreciate your thanks. Sometimes crimefighting is a thankless job. They don't do it because they have to, but they do it because they can. The strong help those in need."
Dick remembered he had told Jason in his dream that he was thinking about semi-retirement, and that he wanted to spend more time with Barbara, but after listening to the nurse, for now, he considered against it.
She returned to nurse-mode. "Like I said, you may be discharged soon. I would recommend you don't strain yourself for a couple of days, however, but follow the doctor's instructions," she said. "Your surgery was a success, but you're still at risk of aneurysm if your blood pressure gets too high. At the risk of sounding too Mother Hen like, take it easy, and don't do any strenuous exercises."
"Does that mean everything?" Dick crooked his lips, looked at Barbara. Barbara nudged him softly on the arm, as if to say behave.
The nurse didn't know what to say to that. Instead, she said, "You'll have to ask the doctor what you can do." Then she left.
When they were alone, Barbara showed Dick what she had bought. He said it looked stunning. And after a few minutes, she emerged from the bathroom in her new change of clothes: a pair of skinny dark slacks and a matching pullover silk shirt that accentuated her sexy figure and firm breasts. He smirked, and cocked his head, looking her up and down.
Then said: "Barb, have I ever told you that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known?"
"Have I ever told you that you're the sexiest man I have ever met?"
"Several times, but whose counting?" He winked. "You drive me wild, Barb. You always have."
"Down boy."
Dick looked down, grabbed his pillow, then placed it at his midsection. His face flushed red. "Sorry," he said. "It's been awhile."
"Maybe we should change the subject?"
She went over to the door and shut it, until it was almost closed, then returned to his bedside. By this time, he had settled down, and he had placed the pillow back behind his head.
"Has there been any word from Jason? He and Jon went to Treasure Island, I recall?" She said no. Dick mused. "Jason has a short fuze. I have to admit, I'm worried about them now that we know Jake Handles still alive. No word from Damian either?"
She shook her head about Damian. "You mentioned Operation Coral Castle by name, once or twice. What was it, exactly? The reason why I ask, is because I've been thinking it lately as it relates to our current situation with Handles."
When she sat down in her chair, he spoke without restraint. "It was a highly classified project Spyral was sent to destroy. It had to do with sub-harmonic frequencies that could, quite literally, destroy a building, or shake an entire city to its core. Even kill a person.
"You know that high-pitch sound that can shatter a wine glass at the correct frequency, well OCC, created by some crazy scientist, could do just that. Spyral found out about it when strange phenomenon began to occur; unusual weather, earthquakes, and the such—things that just seem to happen out of the blue without due cause—and it caught the attention of Spyral's higher-ups. It was like they were tests. Jake and I were sent to check it out. This was before either I or Spyral knew about his secret on-goings.
"Suffice it to say, we allowed ourselves to be captured in this scientist's secret lair, and in typical narcissistic villain fashion, he told us everything we wanted to know about the weapon, and what he called Operation Coral Castle—that he named after some brilliant engineer who lived in Florida in the early 1900s, and who created a spread of rocks, which is now a museum. The engineer called it Coral Castle, and supposedly he used sub-harmonics to move the heavy stones into place, making them feather-light.
"Once we were free, and stopped the scientist's plan to basically hold the world hostage, we took the weapon to Treasure Island for storage, like we did every other high tech weapon Spyral confiscated. However, I knew the weapon was dangerous, so I secretly sabotaged it, so it could never used again. I never told anyone I did that. I have a history of things coming back to bite me in ass. It comes with the territory of being a crime fighter. So, this time I took precautions."
"So, Jake could never use it, even if he wanted to?" Barbara asked.
Dick shook his head, but his eyes suddenly darted from side to side as if he was thinking inward. "But Handles is a genius. If he could somehow fix it, Operation Coral Castle would be resurrected. Much like himself. I wouldn't be surprised that he's not entirely human anymore. When that building fell on top of him, I was sure he was crushed to death. We have to warn Jason and Jon."
Just then, the doctor walked in. The doctor immediately observed their somber faces, and asked, "Is anything wrong?" to both.
His voice broke Dick and Barbara out of their reverie.
Dick shook his head. "Nothing's wrong, doctor," he said, faking a smile. "How is everything?"
The doctor smiled. "I have good news. All your tests and blood work came back normal. You can be discharged later this afternoon. Other than you head injury, which is healing quite well, you're in perfect health."
"That's great news!" Dick said gleefully. "I have a lot of catching up to do. People, places, things, so much, since my accident."
"I wouldn't call it an accident, Mr. Grayson. You were shot and subjected to a sinister experiment that luckily failed. You're quite a remarkable man, and I would almost go to say, super-human, or as they say, meta-human, these days."
"I wish," Dick replied jokingly with a smile. "I'm just a fast healer. Comes with years of practise after being a trapeze artist and then a police officer. Injuries are all part and parcel of the job."
"And what exactly do you do now, Mr. Grayson?" The doctor cocked an eye-brow suspiciously. "I know I was asked to remain hush with the details of all this, and Mr. Wayne even promised me a position of Head of Neurosurgery at the new hospital his company is funding to build, but I'm curious how this came about…" He shut the door to Dick's hospital door completely, then said: "Level with me, Mr. Grayson. Are you some sort of secret agent? Obviously Mr. Wayne knows the details of all this and is refusing to speak out. Is that why you were targeted by a sinister few? I want the truth, or I won't release you."
Jack Nicholson's line in the movie A Few Good Men about the truth rang in Dick's ears. There was no way the doctor could handle it. So, he just winked. The doctor's eyes widened, and yet that, apparently, was all it took to alleviate his concerns. The secrecy, Bruce Wayne's bribe, the assassination attempts on Dick's life—it all made sense now, the doctor affirmed.
The doctor tapped the side of his nose. It was the universal sign of "I'll keep your secret". There was a silent understanding all around and that's all that was needed to be said, or not-said. "I'll smooth things over with the police before you're released," the doctor spoke. "Do you have someone to take you home? You live in Bludhaven, correct?"
"We'll be going to Wayne Manor," Barbara said. "I've already made arrangements with Alfred. He's prepared the VIP guest suite."
"And it used to be my old room when I lived there, by the way," Dick added. "I just hope he hasn't changed the bed? I loved that bed. So big, so soft; the moment I lay down in it, I'm always sent to Slumberland."
"You've also had more than a few nightmares in that bed, too."
Dick frowned. She meant night-terrors which was a result of his PTSD in crime fighting that was never officially diagnosed by a registered psychiatrist. Although Dr. Hugo Strange once did tell him he needed help in dealing with those issues during one of their encounters when it was revealed. Dick forgot which encounter, however.
Strange did offer a solution to his night-terrors, though, and it had to do with the medieval medical place of drilling into his skull to release the "evil spirits". He, humbly declined, and then beat the crap out of Strange, and sent him back to Arkham Asylum.
"Way to ruin the mood, Barb," he said.
"Sorry…"
Just then, Barbara's phone dinged. She picked it up, entered her passcode to unlock the phone, pressed on the message icon, and then—gasped. It was a text message from Alfred, with the bad news about Tim.
To be continued...
