A/N: Once again, thank you to all you wonderful people for your lovely words. I'm so sorry I didn't respond to everyone personally this time but I was away for the weekend and only just got back this evening.
Also, in response to That'sNotMyName anon query (and thank you for your lovely feedback!), I didn't draw any inspiration from The Ache of Cowardice for this fic (although I certainly adore paganpunk2's writing). This story has actually been in the pipeline for a very long time, I just chose to write out some of my other bunnies first. I have a rapidly growing list of plot bunnies for YJ and there's so many of them it's just taking time to get them all written!
Anyway, hope everyone had a lovely weekend and enjoy. :)
oOo
Dick gritted his teeth as he stared at the TV, where a clip of Bruce being hounded by reporters was airing, practically on a loop. It seemed as though every single news station was covering the story of how Bruce Wayne was a child abuser and it made Dick want to throw something. They had all condemned his guardian without anything being proven, and he couldn't even speak to defend Bruce and tell them they were wrong.
It took several minutes of fumbling with the remote before he found the strength to turn off the TV. It was unnerving how weak he felt, unable to sit up without support, or lift his arm for more than a few seconds without exhausting himself. He couldn't remember ever feeling so drained. And then there was his speech…
Dick didn't understand it. His mind was functioning with perfect clarity, he knew exactly what he wanted to say, but it was like something kept getting jumbled between his brain and his mouth. And it was horribly isolating not being able to speak properly; most of the staff didn't really talk to him once they knew he couldn't respond.
Dick sighed miserably and fiddled with his bedcovers. He missed Bruce and Alfred. It was lonely here in the hospital, and while Bruce had promised to call during the night, Dick still had nothing to fill the long hours of daylight. He was too weak to get up and his head hurt too much to read or watch television for more than a few minutes.
Dick was bored. And scared.
What if his speech didn't return? What if he couldn't prove that Bruce wasn't abusing him? What if he did get his speech back and no one believed him? Would the courts split them up forever? Dick couldn't bear to think of that happening.
His door opened and a doctor entered, smiling as he closed the door behind him. Dick sighed wearily. Another one. He was sick of doctors, there had been a constant stream of them throughout the day. They'd poked him, prodded him, taken him for a whole battery of tests including two CT scans, and not one of them had bothered to explain why. Even more baffling than the plethora of tests was the constant monitoring of his urine output because what the heck did that have to do with anything? Dick was frustrated and irritated; he couldn't ask what was happening and no one seemed to care enough to explain it to him. Well, Dr. Phillips did, but he hadn't been back to see Dick since last night.
So it was something of a surprise when this doctor approached his bed and actually addressed Dick directly. "Hello, Richard. How are you feeling this evening?"
Dick shrugged his good shoulder. He felt like crap, what else was there to say?
The doctor leaned forward and his glasses slid down his nose a little. "Is something the matter, Richard?"
Dick tilted his head. The doctor was talking to him as though he expected him to respond. But surely he knew Dick was having trouble speaking?
The doctor frowned. "Don't you want to talk to me?"
Okay. This was weird. He didn't know Dick was having trouble with his speech. But every person who had entered his room today was aware of that, so why wasn't this man? Dick stared at him uncertainly.
The man leaned over him and put a hand on his shoulder. "What's the matter, Richard? Can't you hear me?"
Something definitely wasn't right here. Not only did this guy not have a clue about his speech, but Dick had never had a doctor make contact without sanitizing their hands before. If this guy was ignoring the most basic of medical practices, then there was a good chance he wasn't actually a doctor.
And then he saw the portable camera clipped to the man's tie.
Dick's eyes widened. A reporter! This guy was here to get dirt on Bruce! He reached for the call button with his good hand, but the man caught his wrist and held it against the bed.
"Relax, Richard," he said in a low voice. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to talk."
Yeah, well, Dick didn't want to talk to him. He opened his mouth to yell – just because he couldn't speak didn't mean he couldn't make noise – but the man quickly clamped his other hand over his mouth. Dick twisted his head to left and right, trying to shake the man's hand off, and was unable to stop himself from crying out when the motion made his head throb.
The muffled sounds of distress made the man frown. "Relax, kid, will ya? I said I won't hurt you. I just want a few words, that's all."
No! No words. Dick knew how this worked. Even if he could speak, this man would take everything he said and twist it out of context. He tried to pull his wrist out of the reporter's grip and rolled his head from side to side. He knew the man wasn't going to hurt him but he couldn't help panicking a little. This was getting out of control and he was unable to defend himself. It was frightening to be so helpless.
"What the hell is going on in here?" a female voice cried suddenly.
The reporter jerked back, his hands letting go of Dick. Panting, Dick used his good hand to rip the portable camera from the man's tie and send it clattering to the ground.
"Is that a camera?" the female voice demanded, and Dick looked up to see a tall, dark-haired woman in a white coat squinting at the floor. "Good Lord! SECURITY!"
An enormous man in a dark uniform burst into the room, startling Dick with his quick response. His eyes narrowed in on the reporter who was now backing away from Dick's bed, his hands held up in defence. "I wasn't going to hurt the kid, I swear! I just wanted to get a few quotes."
The security guard moved towards him just as several nurses entered, drawn by the noise. One of them, a cute blond whom Dick recognized as his nurse from the night before, headed straight for him.
"Are you alright, sweetheart?" she asked, anxiously examining him before checking his monitors and IV-line.
A little shaken, Dick nodded, his eyes glued to the reporter who was being escorted out of the room. The dark-haired woman who had interrupted the reporter was issuing orders to the other nurses gathered in the doorway. "…police and get more security up here! And make sure to tell them to check the ID of every person before they enter this room."
The other nurses scuttled away to carry out her orders and the woman approached Dick's bed. She looked angry. "Despicable piece of trash," she muttered furiously, before addressing Dick in a softer tone, "Did he hurt you?"
Dick shook his head, wincing when it ached.
"Does your head hurt?" asked the dark-haired woman.
Dick gave the smallest of head nods in response. Yes was still beyond the few halting words he was able to manage.
"He's not due any pain medication for at least another hour," the blond nurse put in.
"Then find the attending and see if you can give him something now. Don't let the pain build after the shock he's just had."
The blond nurse nodded and left.
The dark-haired woman turned back to Dick. "I can't authorize anything for your pain," she explained. "I'm not a doctor on this ward. My name is Dr. Lewis and I work in the ER."
Dick gave a small wave of his hand in greeting, unsure as to why an ER doctor would be visiting him.
She frowned. "Dr. Phillips told me about your speech problems. I take it there's been no improvement since yesterday?"
Dick shook his head miserably.
Dr. Lewis sighed. "I'm sorry to hear that, Dick. I know this must be scary for you."
Dick stared at her. She was the first person here to call him Dick instead of Richard. Who was this woman? He frowned and pointed at her. "Hhh…hhh…hh…hooooo…?"
She shook her head. "I'm sorry. Of course you don't know me. I was the doctor who treated you when you were brought into the ER. I just wanted to check on how you were doing."
Dick raised an eyebrow because why?
She smiled. "I always like to check on my young patients. And I know you aren't allowed any visitors so I thought you might like some company."
No visitors. He scowled. That was a nice way of saying he wasn't allowed to see his family. "Wwwww…wwww…w-want…Bruss."
Maybe if he said it enough, someone would actually listen.
Dr. Lewis looked taken aback. "Dick, you do know your guardian isn't allowed to see you?"
"Wwww…wwww…w-want…Bruss," he insisted.
The doctor frowned. "Dick, why would you want to see someone who hurts you?"
Dick jerked upright in fury. "Nnnnn…nnnn…nn-not…hrrrrrrrr…hrrrrr-t…mmmm…m-me!"
The doctor gently guided him back against the pillows. "Dick, you don't have to defend him. No one is going to hurt you for telling the truth and CPS can keep you safe from Bruce Wayne."
Dick wanted to howl. "Bruss…nnnnn…nnn-not…hrrrrrrr…hrrrr-t…mmmm…m-me."
Dr. Lewis looked troubled. "There's a lot of evidence against him. Your arm for instance." She gestured to Dick's broken arm.
"Aaaaaa…aaaaa…aaaaa…aaaaaa…aaaaaa…aaaaaaaaa…" Dick stopped, frustrated. He and Bruce had come up with a story for his arm, but how could he use it if he couldn't even say the word accident?
"Accident?" Dr. Lewis guessed and Dick nodded vigorously, wincing when it made his head swim. "Are you saying that what happened to your arm was an accident?"
Dick gave a smaller head nod. "Ffff…fffff…fffff…fffffffff…" He clenched his good hand. Seriously? He couldn't even say the word fall? This beyond sucked.
"I see." Dr. Lewis looked even more troubled. "You had a lot of other injuries, Dick. Were those all accidents too?"
He felt like screaming. How was he supposed to answer that when he couldn't speak? "Nnnnnn…nnn-not…Bruss." He looked at her pleadingly, trying to make her understand. "Bruss…nnnnn…nnn-not…hrrrrr-t…mmmmm…m-me."
The doctor sighed again and massaged her temple. "I don't know whether to believe you or not. Many children whose parents abuse them claim that they don't."
"Bruss…nnnn…nnnn…nn-not…hrrrrrr-t…mmmm-me!" Dick insisted.
"Well, you'll be questioned by social services once your speech returns, so I guess it all depends on how well your stories match."
She sounded like she wasn't entirely sure what to believe. And then it hit Dick. If she was the one who had treated him in the ER, she was probably the one who had called social services! "Uuuuuuu…kk…kk…kk…kkkkkk…" Dick gave up and mimed using a phone. "Sssss…sssss…sssssssss…sssssssssssss…"
Oh, come on! He had said the stupid word last night!
"Yes," the doctor cut in gently. "I was the one who called child protective services."
"Wwwww…wwww…wwwww…wwwwwww…" He looked at her desperately. Why?
She seemed to understand. "I thought you were in danger. And I'm legally obliged to report if I suspect a child is being abused. I was just doing my job, Dick."
Doing her job. Dick turned his head away. He was in this situation because someone was doing their job?
"I'm not going to apologize," Dr. Lewis said quietly. "I thought I was doing the right thing. And I'm still not convinced of Mr. Wayne's innocence."
Dick turned back to her. "Nnnnnnnn…nnn-not…hrrrrrrrr…hrrrrrr-t…mmmm…m-me!" he yelled. His heart wrenched and he thumped the mattress with his fist. He couldn't even defend Bruce! He was useless! Totally useless!
"Calm down, Dick," the doctor soothed. "It's not good for you to get overexcited at the moment."
Like she cared. Dick glared at her.
The doctor sighed. "I understand why you're mad at me, Dick, but I stand by my actions. And if Mr. Wayne really is innocent then you can explain that once your speech returns."
Dick gave a snort of derision because she was making a big assumption: what if his speech didn't return?
The doctor gave him a peculiar look. "Dick, your speech will return. You do know that, don't you?"
Dick rolled his eyes because actually, no, he didn't.
"I'm serious, Dick. Your speech should come back once the swelling in that region of the brain has completely dissipated. Spontanous recovery is pretty common with head injuries like yours."
Dick looked at her hopefully. Really?
She frowned. "Hasn't anyone explained this to you?"
He shook his head and her eyes widened. "Has anybody told you anything?"
He shook his head again.
"Oh, for Pete's sake!" she muttered, shaking her own head. "Dick, I really shouldn't tell you anything because I'm not your doctor, but I'm going to give you a quick rundown so you'll at least have some idea of what's happening to you. And I'll talk to the doctors here about communicating with you, okay?"
Dick nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude towards Dr. Lewis…even if she was the reason he was being kept away from Bruce.
"You were brought in after suffering a head injury," she began. "You hit your head hard enough for the brain to swell and it caused something called increased intracranial pressure, or ICP. It basically means the swelling caused pressure to build inside your cranium and that's dangerous because it can prevent blood from getting to the brain. Do you understand?"
Dick nodded.
"You were treated with drugs to reduce the swelling and the raised ICP, and you responded well so we didn't need to perform any invasive surgical procedures. But one of the drugs used to treat increased ICP, Mannitol, can cause renal failure. You were given several large doses to help reduce the pressure, but it means you need to be monitored closely over the next few days to ensure that you don't develop any kidney problems."
So that's why they were doing that! Dick sighed in wide-eyed relief. He hadn't known what to think of that. It was nice to be getting answers. Which reminded him… He gestured to his throat.
"Your speech?" asked Dr. Lewis, and he nodded. "It's called expressive aphasia. It means that you can understand speech but you can't use it because there's swelling in the area of your brain responsible for language. Fortunately, the swelling has started to reduce and Dr. Phillips doesn't think there's been any long-term damage, which means the probability of your speech returning once the swelling goes down is high. There is a very small chance that you will need some speech therapy, but it's minimal. However, Dr. Phillips is the neurologist so I'll let him explain the mechanics of it when he comes back on shift, okay?"
Dick nodded, glad to have some idea of what was happening to him and relieved to know this speech thing wouldn't be permanent.
"Is there anything else?" she enquired.
Dick gestured to his broken arm, grasping his splint to indicate he wanted to know about that; the cast hadn't been very comfortable, but it was a heck of a lot better than the splint, which poked him in the side every time he moved and didn't give a whole lot of support to his arm.
Dr. Lewis blinked. "You want to know about the splint?" He nodded. "I'm afraid I haven't spoken with your orthopaedist to give you any definite answers, but I can tell you that you don't have any new breaks to your arm. Regarding the splint, we had to put that on because your fall shattered the cast and we had to remove it in the ER. It cut your arm pretty badly in a few places and you needed stitches, so there's a lot of swelling. You probably need to wait for that to go down before it can be casted it again."
More stitches. Wonderful. Dick sighed, wondering how much time all of this had added to his recovery period.
"Do you need to know anything else? Or can I get you anything?" Dr. Lewis asked.
Dick shook his head, then looked at her and smiled in gratitude. Alfred wouldn't be pleased if he forgot his manners. The thought of Alfred caused a sharp pang of homesickness that made his heart ache.
She smiled back. "You're welcome. And I promise I'll–"
"Dr. Lewis, hero of the hour, I believe," a male voice interrupted, and they both looked up as Dr. Phillips entered the room.
Dr. Lewis gave a wry smile. "Hardly. Only a coward would sneak into a child's hospital room to forcefully question him."
Dick scowled. He wasn't a child!
"I won't dispute that," said Dr. Phillips, frowning and shaking his head. "Despicable behaviour."
"Security needs to start checking the ID of the people entering this room," Dr. Lewis lectured. "They can't just let people in because they're in uniform or wearing a white coat! The whole reason someone was put on Dick's door was to prevent things like this."
Wait, what? Dick looked between them both. He had security? Why? Had something already happened or was it just to keep Bruce out? He scowled again at that last thought.
But the doctors didn't elaborate. Instead, Dr. Phillips raised his hand in a gesture of appeasement towards Dr. Lewis. "It's already been taken care of. I came on shift just as that man was being escorted off the ward, so I've already had a word with security. And we're going to leave this door open to ensure nothing like this happens again, alright, Richard?"
He gave Dick a kind smile but Dick was too stricken to respond. If they left the door open then Batman wouldn't be able to slip in at night! He shook his head in dismay, unable to admit that to them.
"Wwww…ww-want…Bruss," he whispered instead. He needed his guardian, why couldn't they see that?
Dr. Phillips sighed. "Richard, I'm sorry, but you know I can't let him see you."
Dick slumped miserably against his pillows. This wasn't fair. Any of it. All the times he'd been knocked on the head, and it was when he really needed his voice that he lost it.
"Dr. Phillips," Dr. Lewis spoke up, "could you have a word with your team about Dick? They haven't been explaining things to him, and I'm fairly certain they haven't been talking to him either. He can't speak, but that doesn't mean he can't communicate. Don't have him feeling more isolated than he already is."
Dr. Phillips looked taken aback. "Is that true, Richard? Have my team not been communicating with you?"
Dick shook his head and the man sighed. "I'm sorry, Richard. I'll speak with them. Sometimes doctors become so immune to the illness around us that we forget how new and frightening it is for the patient."
"Well, since that's settled, I'd better get back to the ER," Dr. Lewis announced. She pointed at the floor where the reporter's camera was still lying. "The police have been called, make sure they get their hands on that." She turned back to Dick and gave him a smile. "Feel better soon, okay?"
He nodded, returning her smile. It would have been petty of him to continue being angry at her for doing her job after what she'd just done for him; rescuing him from the reporter, explaining what was happening to him, and making sure the hospital staff stopped ignoring him.
"Dr. Phillips," she nodded to the man as she left the room.
Dr. Phillips nodded in return before turning to Dick and waggling his eyebrows. "A wonderful doctor, but not a lady I'd like to get on the wrong side of. Now, your nurse tells me you're in a bit of pain and would like your pain medication a little early?"
Dick nodded.
"Well, I did want to do some more complex motor coordination response tests with you, but maybe that can wait until you've had a little nap? I think you've earned it after the evening you've had." He smiled kindly at Dick and patted his arm.
Dick shrugged in response. If only they realized that the best medication of all would be having Bruce here.
oOo
It was after midnight when Batman arrived at the hospital. Peering through the window of Dick's room to check that Dick was its only occupant, he was surprised to see the boy sitting propped against his pillows, staring gloomily at the open door. Carefully, he pushed the window open a crack and gave a low whistle.
Dick looked up and his face split in a wide grin. Then his eyes suddenly widened and he gestured at Batman to hide.
"You need anything, Mr. Grayson?" asked a burly security guard, appearing in the doorway to Dick's room.
Dick shook his head.
The guard frowned. "Sorry. Thought I heard you call or something."
He stepped back into the hall and Dick turned to face Batman, his face a mask of despair.
"It's alright," Batman used sign language to communicate with him, immensely glad it was one of the things he had taught Robin. "How long until they close the door?"
Dick shook his head miserably and Batman frowned. "They're not closing the door?"
Dick shook his head again.
Batman was taken aback. The previous two nights he had visited Dick, the door had always been closed. "Why not? Did something happen?"
The boy nodded, his eyes going back to check on the guard.
Batman's frown deepened as he thought about what could have happened. There was no point asking Dick because the boy couldn't sign a response with only one working arm. And then a possible reason for why the door needed to be left open occurred to him and Batman bit back a growl. "Dick, was there a reporter in your room today?"
Sighing, Dick nodded.
Rage boiled in Batman's veins. Goddamn vultures! What was wrong with them that they would harass an injured child in the hospital?! This was the second time someone had gotten into his room, even with a guard on the door! And while this would help strengthen the case for why he didn't have Dick treated at Gotham General, it made it impossible for them to get their stories straight.
And they needed to get their stories straight. CPS was moving fast: Bruce Wayne had already been summoned to a jurisdictional hearing the next morning, so it was only a matter of time before CPS questioned Dick – regardless of whether or not the boy could speak.
Tonight, Batman had been hoping to confirm that Dick remembered the stories they had created for his old injuries, and to help him explain the ones they hadn't accounted for…like his injuries at the hands of Two-Face. That had happened during summer vacation and they had been able to hide Dick in the manor for most of his recovery. Not to talk of the cigarette burns. There was no way those could be accidental.
Batman tightened his mouth. There was too much to account for and everything hinged on Dick being able to convince CPS. But how was he supposed to do that if they couldn't even get their stories straight?
An unfamiliar feeling of helplessness weaved its way into Batman's psyche as he stared at Dick through the glass. The odds of CPS removing Dick permanently from his care were increasing all the time, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.