"Is Damian okay?" Dick asked a little frantically. "Tim? Alfred? Barbara?"

Bruce jerked his head up. He had been asleep in the chair that Tim had been in when Dick first woke up. Immediately he looked wide awake. Dick had always been jealous of his magical powers of being completely alert in zero seconds flat.

"They're fine," he said quickly. "Why?"

"You're here," Dick said. "And weird dreams I guess."

The adrenaline that was pounding through him was doing a better job of keeping his head from throbbing than the morphine was. He took a deep breath and looked over at Bruce.

Dick would never have admitted how happy he was to see Bruce there, looking him over carefully, slowly, his meticulous detective brain checking for signs that anything was wrong with him. He'd understood his whole life that Bruce couldn't just say it, that he'd never been able to say it, that his obsessive concern was the only way he had found to admit that he loved Dick.

"Should I be offended that you assumed me being here meant one of your brothers was hurt?" Bruce asked, apparently completing his inspection and leaning back.

"Probably," Dick agreed. "Got anything somewhere between morphine and an ibuprofen?" His head ache was kind of a constant thing and he wasn't sure he could handle it and a serious conversation with Bruce at the moment.

"How bad's your headache?" Bruce asked, standing up.

"Bad enough I'm asking, not bad enough to want another morphine trip."

"Try this," Bruce said, opening on of the bottles that Alfred had carefully left out. He swallowed it without question.

"Thanks," he said, leaning back into the pillows for a millionth time. "So, why are you here?"

"I was waiting for you to wake up actually," he said. "I wanted to talk to you before I left."

"Leaving all ready?" Dick asked. He wanted to seem cool with it, and part of him was. This was Bruce, what was he expecting? Time together? To talk about what they'd both been through? No, it was never going to be like that. It would be unbearably awkward even if it did happen. He'd probably be begging for a coma by the end of a half hour heart to heart with Bruce.

But was it too much to ask for a few days with his father? "Didn't you just get back?"

"I won't be gone long," he said. "Definitely not as long as last time. A week at most."

"All right," Dick agreed. "Where you going? Some place warm?"

"A few places actually," he said. "I just want to lay the groundwork for Batman Incorporated before the announcement. I want you to be there, so I'll wait until you are on your feet."

"But?" Dick asked, hearing the but even if Bruce hadn't said it yet.

"But I hope to do it the day after I get back," he said. "If possible," he added hastily. "I don't want you to rush yourself and get hurt again."

Dick sighed.

"I'll do my best," he said trying to keep the misery out of his voice.

"No costumes while I'm gone Dick," Bruce said in his incredibly irritating authority voice that even now Dick was afraid to cross.

"Who's going to patrol?" he asked.

"Someone who can stand up," Bruce said. Dick wasn't quite sure if that was a joke or not. Probably not, but he decided to grin ruefully anyway. "Damian and Tim can handle it until I'm back."

"If they don't kill each other," Dick muttered.

"We talked about it," Bruce said. Dick raised an eyebrow. Bruce frowned and looked at him questioningly.

"You think you talked Tim and Damian out of killing each other?" Dick repeated.

"Yes," he said. "They're both soldiers. They'll do as they're ordered."

"You ordered them?" Dick asked, kind of snort laughing and then wishing he hadn't because it definitely hurt his head. "You think that'll work?"

Bruce didn't answer, just glared at Dick. Stronger men than Dick withered under that stare but he was so exhausted, and his head hurt and if he'd been feeling poetic he'd have said his heart felt like it'd been through a cheese grater. He couldn't muster the energy necessary to cower before his mentor and there was nothing Bruce could do about it.

"You have to promise me that you will not put on a costume while I'm away Dick," Bruce said again. "I need you healthy, and that can't happen if you're pushing yourself too hard."

"Bruce," Dick started but he shook his head. Dick sighed. There was no winning this argument. "Fine," he said. "I promise that until you get back I will not put on any costume, unless it's absolutely necessary to save Damian or Tim or you. Or Alfred. Which is probably the most likely." Bruce smiled at him faintly. "Good enough?"

"Yes."

"Which costume am I not allowed to put on, just for the record?" Dick asked. He wasn't sure if he was joking or not.

"Batman's," Bruce said. "I know you're less then thrilled with that at the moment Dick but you put on that costume for a reason and just because I'm back doesn't mean that reason went away."

"Yes it did Bruce," Dick insisted, pushing himself forward with his arms because moving his neck muscles hurt a lot more. "I put on the cowl because Gotham needed you. I was just a replacement."

"No, you were much more than that Dick," Bruce said. "Gotham needed Batman and you gave it everything it needed. I'm," Bruce started and leaned back, his eyes dropping down to the button on his sleeve. "Of what you did, what you gave up and everything you've tried to do for Damian, I'm, well I'm proud of you Dick." Dick leaned back a little hesitantly. He knew that Bruce loved him but that was so frighteningly close to admitting it that he didn't know what to do. Bruce looked up at him.

"I missed you Bruce," Dick said, instead of answering directly. "I know you think the most important thing you've ever been is Batman, but you've been pretty important to me as a," he trailed off because he wasn't sure which word he was looking for. Brother? Best friend? Father? They all kind of applied. "As Bruce," he finished lamely. "It was hard without you."

"I know," Bruce said.

"No you don't," Dick said very, very quietly. "Bruce I'm not good at being you." Dick knew he was going to start an argument, and a huge part of him just wanted to let it all be, to sit in this moment when he and Bruce had almost said what they meant. But Bruce was leaving and it just felt like there was more to say before he could let Bruce go.

"That's not" Bruce started to say but Dick didn't let him finish.

"What you heard I know. I managed Bruce, that's all. I managed to convince Gordon to trust me, I managed to keep the tied held back for a little while, but that's it. If you're all that stands between Gotham and madness then I was what was kneeling there waving my arms at the madness and hoping it didn't swallow me. Don't ask me to do this."

"I need you to Dick," Bruce said. "Just for a little while. Just until I've got Batman Incorporated started. Then I'll be back and you'll be free to be Nightwing again, if that's what you want."

"That's not fair," Dick said.

"Life isn't fair," Bruce answered back harshly. Dick almost recoiled, like he'd been hit and that hurt his head a lot but he clamped his teeth down into the moan and didn't let it slip out.

"So we should just accept it?" Dick asked. "You're just going to come back into your son's life long enough to leave again? What about Damian? What about Tim, whose been through hell looking for you? You're just going to leave them here? Pretend I'm remotely capable of helping them?"

"Dick, I need to think about things too," Bruce said. "Tim can't just go back to being my Robin again. You know that. What do I have to offer him? And Damian? God Dick what were you thinking?"

"That it was the right thing to do," Dick said. "If there's one thing I did right while wearing the cowl it was picking Damian to be Robin. I wish I could have done it without hurting Tim, but it was still the right thing to do."

"I don't trust him."

"That's great," Dick said. "No one does. You know, for a guy who just professed completely confidence in me, you're certainly reluctant to accept my decisions."

"He's Talia's son Dick!" Bruce snarled. "You want me to believe he can be anything but an assassin?"

"He's a kid, just like I was, only a little more hurt on the inside. He came here to learn from you, to learn to be like you. Instead he got stuck with me, blundering around pretending that I knew how to help him. He deserves to work with you. He deserves a chance with you."

"I'll think about it," Bruce said.

Dick wasn't sure what to make of that. He didn't think he could win an argument against Bruce, but he hadn't completely lost it either, which was something.

"Anyway, I'm leaving in a few hours, I just wanted to make sure you were all right before I left." All right – all right with being forced into a costume that wasn't his, all right with being bedridden until it was convenient for Bruce to have him on his feet again, all right with everything that had happened. All right with Bruce almost saying the impossible three words to his face. " Alfred seems to be a little um, paralysed by indecision at the moment about whether he wants to come with me or not. I expect he'll be down to talk to you shortly. Take care of yourself okay?"

"Yeah," Dick agreed. "You too. I'm not sure I could handle your death. Again." Bruce smiled, just a little but there it was and Dick grinned. Things weren't okay but they'd been worse.

"See you in a week."

Once he was gone Dick leaned back into his pillows again and closed his eyes. He waited a few minutes before calling softly, "Damian?"