A/N: I know, I know, I'm a broken record, but... thank you all so much for your wonderful comments on the last chapter. It so totally makes my day. :)

oOo

It was the worst headache of Dick's life. That much he was certain of. Agony blared up from inside his skull, hammering outwards with excruciating force. A low moan echoed from the back of his throat.

"Richard," a deep, unfamiliar voice addressed him suddenly, startling him. "Can you open your eyes for me?"

Dick made several attempts to comply, if only to see who was speaking, but his lids refused to obey. He tried to move and a violent pain lanced down his arm, making him gasp.

"It's alright, Richard," the same voice spoke again. "Just nod your head if you can hear me."

Yeah, that wasn't going to happen. Not when his head felt like it was about to explode. Dick tried to speak instead, but all that came out was a series of garbled syllables. His arm throbbed horribly and he felt himself begin to panic. What was going on?

"It's okay, Richard, I'm here to help. My name is Dr. Phillips."

Doctor? That meant hospital. He was in a hospital. But something was missing. Something important. Dick tried to focus his fractured thoughts and an image of a dark-haired man slipped through the cracks. Bruce. Where was Bruce?

"Ba…Buh…" Dick started at the nonsense spilling out of his mouth.

"It's alright, Richard," the voice soothed. "Just relax."

Except it wasn't alright. Dick didn't understand what was happening; his body wasn't responding the way it was supposed to, while the pain in his head made him want to vomit. And where was Bruce? Why wasn't he here? Dick could feel his panic turning to fear. Something was beeping frantically nearby.

"Should I fetch someone?" a crisp female voice spoke up.

"No," the first voice – Doctor Phillips – replied. "Just give him a few minutes. Richard, you can do this. You opened your eyes for me earlier, do you remember?"

No. Dick didn't remember. Dick had no idea who this man was. He just wanted Bruce.

"Buh…Brsss…" he tried again.

"What did he say?" asked the female voice.

"It's just gibberish, Ms. Elliot," said Dr. Phillips. "I already told you, the boy has woken up a few times but he hasn't been coherent."

But I am coherent, Dick wanted to say, except that he seemed to be trapped in his own body, unable to speak or move. "Brss…" He swallowed and tried again. "Brssss…"

"The boy definitely said something," the woman insisted, sounding closer. "He said his guardian's name, I'm sure of it!"

"Ms. Elliot. Step. Back!"

Sensations other than pain were returning to Dick. He could feel something soft beneath his body and something warm lay over him. The fingers of his right hand twitched and he moved them, feeling relief at regaining control of at least some part of his body.

"That's it, Richard," said Dr. Phillips encouragingly. "You're doing great. Just relax for a few minutes and then see if you can open your eyes."

Dick took several shaky breaths before finally managing to open his eyes, shutting them instantly when light seared into his brain.

"Easy, Richard, take it slow," the doctor cautioned.

Dick swallowed before opening his eyes once more, blinking rapidly to let the light filter in. Slowly, the sharp brightness dimmed and the figure of a grey-haired man in owlish glasses and a white coat came into view. Dick squinted up at him and the man smiled kindly.

"Good boy. Now, if you understand me, I want you to blink twice."

Dick complied, feeling some of his fear drain at being able to communicate. He could hear the frantic beeping getting quieter as well. "Br…Brusss…" he managed to get out.

"I'm afraid Mr. Wayne isn't here right now," said the doctor. "You've been quite ill, Richard, and you're in the hospital."

Well, duh. He'd already figured that much. What he wanted to know was where Bruce was. "Wwww…www…wers…Bruss?"

"He isn't here right now," repeated Dr. Phillips. "You suffered a head injury and you were unconscious for almost twenty-four hours. You've spent the last few hours drifting in and out. Do you remember any of that, Richard?"

It took Dick several seconds to get his mouth to cooperate. "Nnnn…nnn…no…"

The doctor removed a small flashlight from his coat pocket. "I'm just going to shine this light in your eyes to see how they respond, okay, Richard?"

Dick tried not to wince when the light hit his right eye, and then his left.

Dr. Phillips switched off the light. "Now, I'm going to move this in front of your face and I want you to follow it with your eyes. Can you do that for me?"

Again, Dick's mouth struggled to form the word. "…k…"

The doctor held the small flashlight in front of his face, moving it slowly left and right. Dick's eyes tracked it, and the doctor repeated the exercise several times until he was satisfied.

"Excellent, Richard. You're doing really well. I'm just going to ask you a couple of questions now. Is that alright?"

Dick tried to respond, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make his mouth form the word yes. He stared at the doctor in panic. What was wrong with his speech?

"It's alright, Richard," said the doctor calmly, obviously guessing the cause of his distress. "Speech problems are common after a head injury, but it often resolves itself after a few days so try not to worry."

Easy for him to say! What if it didn't resolve itself?

But the doctor didn't elaborate on that. "I'm going to ask you those questions now, Richard. If you're having trouble answering, just blink once for yes and twice for no. Do you understand?"

Dick blinked, wishing Bruce was here. He knew it was a little childish, but he couldn't help it. He was hurting terribly and he just wanted a familiar face.

"Good boy. Do you know where you are?"

Dick blinked once.

"And do you remember who you are?"

Dick blinked again.

"Do you remember what happened to put you in the hospital?"

Dick thought about it. He'd been on a mission with the team and something had happened with Mammoth– hang on! That was Robin stuff and Bruce wouldn't bring him to the hospital for Robin stuff. Dick wracked his aching head. No, Mammoth had been last week and he'd been in school all week…hadn't he? An image of a smirking Ryan Johnson flashed into his head and Dick chewed on his lip, feeling like something had happened between them. He could remember stairs, but he wasn't sure whether it was real or not. Time to try speech again.

"Ssssss…ssssk…skool?" he warbled, feeling irritated and scared at how uncertain he sounded, like a little kid.

The doctor nodded. "That's right, Richard, something happened at school. You're doing great. Only a few questions left. I know your head and your arm are probably hurting, but do you have pain anywhere else?"

"Nnnn…n-no…"

"Any nausea?"

Dick blinked once.

The doctor looked concerned. "And what about the pain in your head, is it very bad?"

Dick gave a long, slow blink because 'very bad' was an understatement. The pain was excruciating and he was close to throwing up.

"I'll give you something stronger for that when we're done. I'm just going to test a few of your physical responses and then I'm going to let you rest, okay?"

Sighing, Dick blinked.

"Don't worry, this won't take long. I'm only going to test basic responses for now."

Dick hoped they were very basic: the pain in his head was awful and he just wanted Bruce.

"Now, Richard, I know this is going to sound a little funny, but can you stick out your tongue for me?"

Exhaustion creeping in at the edges, Dick stuck his tongue out.

"Can you move it from side to side?"

Even though he felt stupid, Dick did as asked. He knew motor coordination responses were important to assess after a head injury.

"Now, we'll test the responses of your good arm so I want you to touch the tip of your thumb to the tip of your index finger."

It took Dick a few seconds before he managed to accomplish it successfully.

"Good. Now lift the arm a few inches off the bed for me."

Dick complied, although his arm trembled from the strain. It scared him how weak he felt, and he wished with all his heart that Bruce was here.

"Okay, Richard, this is the last thing for now, I promise." The doctor moved to the foot of the bed and uncovered his feet. "I'm just going to test the reflexes of your feet."

Dick felt pressure on the sole of his right foot and his toes automatically curled. The pressure was repeated on his left foot with the same response.

"Excellent." Dr. Phillips covered his feet again and came back to stand beside him. "You felt both of those, right?"

Dick blinked. He was so tired and he hurt so much.

The doctor patted his arm gently. "You did great, Richard. I'm going to give you something now to take the edge off that pain and help you rest."

"Hang on, Dr. Phillips!" a female voice sounded suddenly, and a stern-looking woman with grey hair appeared in Dick's line of sight. "I haven't spoken with the boy yet."

The doctor frowned. "Ms. Elliot, Richard is in no condition to answer any more questions. He needs to rest."

"I understand the boy isn't well, Doctor, but this won't take long. And I'm not going to stress him out or–"

"The very nature of your questions will stress him out," he cut across her. "The answer is no."

The woman scowled. "Dr. Phillips, this is a serious case of child abuse and I need to speak with Richard for his own safety."

Dick stared at her. Child abuse? What was she talking about?

"Ms. Elliot, can we take this discussion outside?" asked the doctor, warning in his tone.

Fear wrapped its cold hands around Dick and squeezed. Something was wrong. There was a reason Bruce wasn't here. Bruce was always here when he was hurt and Dick should know better than to think otherwise.

He pulled on the doctor's sleeve to get his attention and the man looked down at him. "Yes, Richard?"

"Wwww…www…wers…Bruss?"

"Mr. Wayne isn't here right now," the doctor told him. It was the third time he hadn't really answered that question. "You just rest and he should be here later."

"Mr. Wayne most certainly will not be here later!" the woman snapped. "That man is coming nowhere near this boy until I've determined whether or not he's abusing him."

"Ms. Elliot!" Dr. Phillips hissed.

Dick stared at the woman. Bruce wasn't hurting him! Why would she think that? Was she the reason Bruce wasn't here? He needed to tell her she was wrong. "Nnnn…nnn…nn-no…" he began, trying to form the right words.

"What's that, dear?" said the woman in a soft voice, leaning closer to him. "Do you want to tell me something?"

"Ms. Elliot, stop this," Dr. Phillips interjected, looking angry now.

"The boy spoke to me, Doctor, he obviously has something to say."

Yes, Dick did have something to say. The problem was actually saying it. "Brusss…hrrrrrrrr…" Dick stopped. That sounded way wrong. "Bruss…nnnnn…"

"Don't be scared, Richard," she said kindly, patting his hand. "You're quite safe here."

But Dick was safe with Bruce and this lady was making a mistake! "Rrrrrr….rrrrr…rong," he told her.

"Richard, I promise you, you're safe here."

"Nnnnn…nnnnn…nnnnn…nnnnn…" Dick wanted to cry with frustration. His panic was making it harder for him to get any words out.

"Mr. Wayne can't hurt you anymore, Richard," said the woman gently.

Dick made a strangled noise. "Nnnn…nnnn…" he gasped desperately. "Brsss…nnn…nnn..."

"That's enough!" Dr. Phillips looked furious now. "Ms. Elliot, as this boy's doctor, I am ordering you to leave."

The woman sighed. "Very well, Dr. Phillips. But please contact me as soon as Richard is able to speak. I need an actual interview for court."

"I'll do that," he said, voice clipped.

"Goodbye, Doctor, and thank you for your help. Richard, I'll see you soon," she added, patting Dick's hand kindly before leaving the room.

Dick turned his attention to the doctor at once, trying desperately to make him understand. "Bruss…" he said imploringly.

The doctor looked regretful. "I'm afraid Mr. Wayne's been forbidden by social services from having any contact with you."

Dick felt like he might cry. His head was utter agony and he wanted Bruce so badly it hurt. "Pppp…pppp…ppp…ppplssss?" he begged. "Bruss…nnn…nnn….nnnnn…" Dick swallowed and tried again. "Nnnnn…nnnn…n-not…hrrrrrr…hrrrrrrt…"

The man shook his head, his expression full of sympathy. "Richard, I'm sorry, but I can't let him see you. It would get both myself and Mr. Wayne into a great deal of trouble. Don't worry, as soon as your speech returns, you'll be able to tell social services that they're wrong and then everything will be okay."

Dick stared at him miserably. But it wasn't okay now. Pain was scissoring across his skull, his arm ached horribly and he just wanted Bruce. To his utter horror, he could feel his lower lip start to quiver and quickly squeezed his eyes shut.

Dr. Phillips sighed. "Let me give you something for the pain, okay?" he said in a soft voice. "You might feel better after a little rest."

Dick didn't bother to respond. So long as he was being kept apart from Bruce, nothing would feel okay.

oOo

Batman slipped into Dick's hospital room sometime after two. He had deliberately left it until that time in the hopes that the nurses would be checking on the boy less. He had tried calling the hospital several times for word on Dick's condition, but each time the hospital had refused to give him any information. Leslie too had been unable to gain access to Dick's room or his medical notes, even though she was his paediatrician. CPS had the hospital running scared. It was frightening and nerve-wracking to be kept in the dark about something so important.

A small nightlight had been left on. As Batman approached Dick's bed he could see that the boy's eyes were closed and he was still in the same position as the night before. His heart sank; was Dick still unconscious?

He stopped beside the bed and stared down at Dick. The boy seemed younger than usual. The damn hospital gown was part of that, but Batman supposed it was also because he had grown so much as Robin and spent so much time surrounded by older teenagers that it was easy to forget he was only thirteen. Thirteen and completely vulnerable to the vultures circling him. Batman had been dismayed by the massive media presence outside the hospital. It even overshadowed the one camped outside Wayne Manor.

Sighing heavily, he reached down and brushed his fingers across Dick's cheek, starting when the boy opened his eyes.

"Dick?" he whispered disbelievingly.

Dick's eyes widened. "Brssss?"

"Shhhhh," Batman hissed, glancing towards the door where, thanks to Kevin Green, he knew a security guard had been stationed.

"Bruss," said Dick again, his right hand reaching for Batman's arm.

"Dick, shhhhh." Batman kept his ears peeled for the sound of the door opening while he bent over the boy.

Dick grabbed at him desperately. "Brussss," he practically whined.

Batman was surprised at his actions: the boy was clutching at him like he was a lifeline. "Hush, Dick," he said in low voice, glancing towards the door again.

When he looked back at Dick, Batman was stunned to see that he was near tears; his lower lip was trembling and his eyes were watery. "Bruss?" he whispered plaintively.

Batman was taken aback when he realized that Dick wanted his guardian, not his mentor. It was a distinction the boy had never made between the two before. Taking a huge chance, he pulled back the cowl. Almost immediately, relief flooded Dick's face and a tear slipped down each of his cheeks. "Brusss," he breathed.

"It's alright, kiddo," said Bruce softly. "I'm here." He ghosted his fingers across the boy's hair before wiping away the tears. Dick sighed.

"Better?" Bruce asked, keeping his voice low.

His eyes closing and opening in one long, slow blink, Dick gave the minutest of head nods.

"How are you feeling?"

"Hrrrrrrr-ts," Dick slurred.

"What hurts?"

Dick pointed awkwardly to his head and broken arm.

"Do you need to see a doctor?"

He gave a scarcely perceptible head shake and Bruce frowned. Something was off, Dick was using only the bare bones of communication. "What's wrong?"

"Tttttt….tttt…ttt-t-lk…hrrrrr…hrrrrrr-d," he whispered with obvious difficulty.

Oh God. Bruce felt the world tilt. Dick's speech had been affected, probably some form of aphasia. He swallowed. "But you understand me okay?"

Again, Dick gave a tiny head nod, his expression miserable.

"Oh, Dickie." Bruce stroked his hair, heart aching at the thought of Dick waking up in pain and unable to speak, without a familiar face in sight. "It's okay, kiddo. I know it's scary, but these things can be cured. Sometimes they even fix themselves." He prayed that Dick would be in the latter category.

He glanced quickly towards the door again before returning his attention to the boy. How was he going to tell him what had happened with CPS? "Dick, I know you're probably wondering why I wasn't here today…"

To his surprise, the boy gave a small head shake.

"You're not?"

"Sssss…sssssss…ssssssooshall…sssss…sssss…sssssrrrrrvvvv…"

Social services. Bruce scowled. What idiot had come in here and told him about that when he was barely conscious?

He sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I'm afraid so. They did some X-rays on you that showed your old injuries. I was blindsided and couldn't account for them all, so they're investigating if it's because I've been abusing you."

He didn't mention how much harder it would be to prove that he wasn't hurting Dick now that the boy couldn't speak.

"It means I can't be here during the day," Bruce continued. "But I'm going to come and visit you every night so you're still going to see me, okay?"

"…k…"

"And once we prove to social services that I'm not hurting you, everything will go back to normal. You just need to hang tight for a few days until I do that."

Dick gave a slow nod, but his expression was sad. Bruce knew how miserable he was feeling because he was feeling the exact same way.

Voices sounded suddenly at the door and Bruce's head jerked up. Putting a finger to his lips to warn Dick of what was happening, he moved quickly over to the window and slipped through it, leaving it open a crack so he could hear what was happening.

The door opened. Light footsteps entered the room and came towards the bed. "Oh, you're awake!" said a soft female voice. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

"Hrrrrrr-ts," he heard Dick respond.

"I know, sweetie. I'm going to give you something for that now." Footsteps went back and forth, followed by rustling before the woman spoke again. "There. That should kick in soon. Can I get you anything else?"

"Wwwww…www-want…Bruss…"

"Oh, honey, I know you do."

The woman's voice was full of sympathy and Bruce felt a pang when he realized that Dick must have looked for him several times already. It was followed immediately by a burst of pride that Dick, even in his current condition, was remembering to keep up the pretence of looking for his guardian.

"I can't get Mr. Wayne for you, but do you want anything else?" the nurse asked Dick.

He guessed Dick had shaken his head in the negative because the woman sighed. "Alright, sweetheart. I'll be back in half an hour to check on you, okay?"

Footsteps sounded again and then came the soft click of a door closing. Bruce slipped quietly back into the room, guessing he only had minutes before whatever drug the nurse had given Dick took effect.

Sure enough, the boy's eyes were already drooping heavily. "Brrsss?" Dick slurred.

"Right here, kiddo. I want you to close your eyes and get some sleep, okay? The more rest you get, the quicker you'll heal."

Dick gave him a slow smile while his right hand fumbled towards Bruce. Guessing what he was looking for, Bruce curled his fingers around the boy's smaller ones. Dick gave a small sigh and closed his eyes. Bruce watched him until the deep rhythm of his breathing indicated that he had fallen asleep.

Bruce ran his fingers through the boy's hair, anger raging within him. It wasn't fair. He shouldn't have to sneak around just to see his own child! Especially not when the boy needed him this badly. Unfortunately, the name Bruce Wayne meant he was guilty until proven innocent. So while Gotham CPS and the media ran this witch hunt against him, Dick – the very child with whose welfare they were so concerned – was the one left to suffer.

Bruce didn't know how they were going to win this fight, but one thing was certain…

Losing wasn't an option.