"Mmmph..." Dick stretched without opening his eyes, the motion feeling both marvelous and awful at the same time. His leg was by far the worst, and as he extended it he thought something gave out under the bandage. Oops, he winced, and waited. Relief flooded him after a moment when no rush of warm liquid came. The last thing he needed was to go on bear guard with a freshly bleeding wound...

Realizing belatedly that he hadn't been woken by his alarm, he frowned and looked up at the roof of the tent. "...Tim?" he called out in an unusually cross tone.

"Uhhhm...yes?"

Yeah, you know you're in trouble, little brother, Dick grimaced. "Why am I able to see perfectly well in here without a headlamp?" he queried. You didn't sleep at all, did you? Timmy...that was so foolish...

"...Because the bear slobber gave you superpowers?"

"I'm thinking not."

A sigh sounded from the other side of the thin fabric wall. "Okay, okay...it's because the sun rose an hour ago." His shadow passed by, and the peculiar squeal of the entry hole's zipper sounded. A second later he was bending through the doorway, a repentant smile on his lips and dark smudges under his eyes. "...If I promise to take a nap before we go anywhere, will you at least say good morning?"

"If I say good morning, will you promise not to do that again?"

"You needed to sleep, Dick. I'm sorry, but it's the truth."

"You need sleep too, Timmy." He pushed himself into a sitting position and reached out to pinch the younger man's chin between his thumb and forefinger. Turning his face from side to side, he examined him. "...You should see yourself. You look like you haven't had any rest in a week. No offense."

"None taken, but I would point out that you look just as bad. And that's after a full night's rest." A beat passed. "I stand by my decision. You needed it more than I did."

"You-" He trailed off, then shook his head. "Okay. Let's stop this. What's done is done. I'm not especially happy about it, but I'm not going to stew over it, either. What I am going to do is insist that you take at least a two hour nap before we start out. So…good morning."

"I know we're working on a timeline, but I won't argue with you. I'm exhausted."

"I'll bet. Here, back up for a second so I can get out and make room for you."

Tim did as he'd been told, leaving the entrance clear. Dick rolled onto his hands and knees and crawled to the opening, where a burst of unfiltered sunlight made him hiss and shade his eyes. Once the throbbing beneath the gauze on his forehead had subsided, he bent his good leg and pushed himself up. "Gah!"

In his tired state he had overestimated how much force would be necessary to gain his full height, and now he had to step forward onto his wounded limb in order to compensate. It proved as good as useless, however, giving out immediately. He fell forward with a yelp of alarm. An expert mid-air turn let him land on his shoulder and roll instead of sprawling ignobly on his face, but it was still a bone-jarring hit. "Oowww..."

"Dick!" Tim was at his side in an instant, giving a curse as he fell to his butchered knees. "Shit! What happened?! Are you okay?"

"I'm alright, Timmy," he groaned. "Just...didn't know I had a frozen turkey drumstick for a leg this morning."

"Is it that stiff?"

"Ooooh, yeah." His ankle and knee had tried to compensate for the utter immobility of every muscle between them, but it hadn't been enough. "...I'm not bleeding again, am I?"

"I don't think so. If you are it isn't coming through the bandage. Um...what...?"

"Hand me my crutch. That will help until it loosens up a little."

"It's too short, remember? You broke it on the bear."

"I know, but it's better than nothing." It would be enough to get him on his feet and to let him hobble around the tent, and that would suffice for now.

"Here," the branch appeared. "Take my arm, too."

"Yup. Upsie-daisy...okay...whoa..." He swayed briefly, clutching at both his crutch – now more of a cane, if he wanted to be honest with himself – and his brother in order to stay upright. "There," he sighed as things leveled out. "I'm good now."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure." He wasn't, but he figured he'd make it work somehow. They had a bear to get away from and a villain to get closer to; the sooner Tim got his rest, the sooner they could get underway. It would do nothing but delay them if he kept falling over.

"You don't sound very confident."

Crap. You're getting to be as good as Bruce is at telling when I'm covering something up. "Um...my voice might match how I actually feel," he confessed sheepishly.

"Can you even stand on your own?"

"...Maybe?"

A heavy sigh came from the figure tucked in close beside him. "Okay. See that patch of trees three, four hundred yards from here?"

He squinted through the bright post-storm morning. "...You mean the ones that look like they're about a billion miles away?"

"Heh. Yeah, those ones."

"I see them. What about them?"

"That's where we're getting you a new crutch before I go to bed."

"Timmy-!" Go to sleep, you overprotective dork, he bit back. I'll manage, somehow…

"How are you going to stand bear guard if you can't even stand, Dick? What are you going to do if it comes back, offer to play it at tic-tac-toe in the dust to decide whether or not it eats us?"

"...Can I have best two out of three?" he tried a joke.

"Diiiick..."

"Okay, okay. To the trees we go. But you're still sleeping two full hours when we get back."

"Right. Ready?"

He braced himself for pain. "...Ready."

They half-hopped to the thicket, with Dick trying to use his bad leg and Tim trying to hold him up every time it collapsed. It did loosen slightly over the distance they traversed, but not enough to let him stand on his own for more than a few seconds. "Ah," he breathed as they reached their destination, both of them panting and dripping with sweat. "Shade."

"And mosquitoes," Tim replied, smacking the back of his neck with his free hand.

"Where's the bug dope?"

"Back at camp, naturally."

"Excellent. So we're making this quick, then?"

"Yup."

Left to lean against one of the few trunks that had stayed in place through the earthquake, he watched as his brother pawed through downed limbs. The first two he found were a bit too short and crooked, respectively. The third one was playing host to a healthy ant population. It was only on the fourth try that Dick took an experimental step and managed to not fall down. "Haha! Success!"

"Good. If that one will work, let's head back. We're burning daylight."

"And you still have to sleep," he tacked on as they left the buggy patch of trees behind. I'm not letting you weasel out of it by not mentioning it, little brother. No way.

But Tim didn't object. "I know. Are you sure you'll be okay to stand guard?"

"I'll be okay now that I've got a crutch again." Indeed, his leg was improving under the pressure of use. Every step seemed to be a little less taxing than the one prior, and although the pain mounted along with the flexibility he grinned and bore it. There was still some ibuprofen at camp, and he didn't have time to let the ache shooting dully into his foot and thigh slow him down. "Hey. Wanna race?" he nudged the figure beside him.

"…Are you shitting me?"

"Yes. I'm pretty sure a tortoise could beat me in a race at this point."

"At least you aren't as over-confident as the hare. That would be insufferable in a hiking partner."

"And dangerous." They had regained the tent. Dick passed the door, turned around, and attempted to bow to Tim. "Your chamber awaits," he intoned.

"...Boy, I can tell you're feeling better."

"To be honest, I want you to pass me out the pain pills almost as much as I want you to get some rest. This isn't as happy-go-lucky of a display as it might seem." The low throb that had started during their trek had evolved into stabbing agony, and while he knew he could handle it if need be he would prefer to numb it as much as feasible.

"Oh! Here..." The younger man hustled inside, rustled around for a moment, and then re-emerged with his pack in his hands. "I won't need the sleeping bag – it's too hot for that already – so I put it away. I thought you could use this as a bench in case you need to rest."

"Aw...good idea, Timmy. Here, let's put it right here," he pointed off to one side of the open flap. "This way I can watch the cooking area."

"Nice." He dropped the bag, then reached into his pocket. "Ibuprofen," he extended a bottle.

"Nectar of the gods!" Dick exclaimed. Lowering himself onto his seat, he shook out a double dose and washed it down with the water they'd gathered the day before. "Mmm...glad I don't have to take those dry."

"Ugh. Yeah," Tim agreed, throwing back a few pills of his own. "Not dying is nice, too."

"Yup." Their eyes met. "Go to bed, little brother."

"Let me borrow your watch. I only want to sleep for a couple of hours."

"...Aren't you worried that I'll slip in and turn the alarm off like you did to me?" he asked as he unfastened the clasp around his wrist. He wasn't positive that that was what Tim had done – it was possible that he'd just been allowed to sleep through it – but he knew the response he received would tell him one way or the other.

"No, because I'm going to put it in my pocket. There's no way you'll get to it without waking me."

Dick's jaw dropped. "So you did shut it off on purpose!"

"Yeah, but I thought you said you weren't going to stew over it?"

"I..." He had said that, but still. "Ooh, Timmy, when we get home...I swear I'm going to tie you to your bed and drug you so you sleep for days. You'll be so rested you won't know what to do with yourself."

"You're the worst at threatening people, did you know that?" Tim smirked. "Besides, you'll have to battle Bruce to get to me. You know he's going to try and drug both of us once he sees us."

"Yeah..." Bruce...I'm sorry. We'll make it home somehow, so don't...don't worry, okay? Please don't worry... It was a pointless plea, since he knew that the billionaire was already sure to be out of his mind with concern, but he made it anyway. "Anyway, go to sleep, huh? I'll call you if I see anything."

"If you're sure you're okay..."

"I'm positive, Timmy. Now go to bed so you don't turn the baddie to stone as soon as they see your face."

"…Man, do I really look Medusa-level bad?"

"Do I?"

"Well…you're getting there."

"Heh. Good, then we're keeping pace with each other. I wouldn't want to come out of this with the reputation of being the ugly brother."

"So you're going to drag me into that with you?! That's nice."

"Hey, at least then we could commiserate about being hideous."

"Or we could just have Bruce get us plastic surgery."

"We'd turn the surgeon to stone!"

"We have masks!"

"True. But the easiest thing would still be to avoid becoming medusas in the first place, so go to sleep already, would you?"

"…You know," Tim ventured, "it's been hours, and I haven't seen anything. I'll bet the bear won't even come back. You could probably lay down and get a little more rest with me without much risk."

Dick was shaking his head before his brother even finished his proposal. "Even if you're the new prairie-dog whisperer, I don't want to rely on them to tell us that there's a bear outside licking its chops. I don't particularly want to just roll the dice on it not coming back, either. I'm fine," he assured, "so go to bed, go to sleep, and don't get up until that alarm starts beeping. Okay?"

It seemed that Tim had no further arguments, because he simply sighed and let his shoulders slump. "All right, mother," he rolled his eyes with a faint grin. "I'm going. Are you happy?"

"Yup," he smiled at him. "Sweet dreams, Timmy."

"Night."

The door zipped shut, and Dick was left perched on his makeshift bench. Surveying the grassland from his throne, he saw nothing concerning. The world was quiet save the occasional yip from the prairie-dog colony and the distant cry of a hawk. Tilting his head back, he scanned for the bird. Poor guy, stuck under here with us, he sympathized. Don't fly too high and bump into the sky, friend; it's a long way down.

The previous night's clouds had cleared off, he noted, but there was an odd haze fuzzing the clarity of the atmosphere. ...That's weird. After a moment of puzzling he decided that he must be seeing the light refracting off of rain water that hadn't evaporated from atop the dome yet. With that settled and the bird nowhere in sight, he returned his gaze to ground level. He had more important things to do than meditate on force field physics, and such things were more Tim's department than his in any case. He would mention it when the younger man woke up, but in the meantime he needed to focus on getting his leg looser.

He heaved himself upward and leaned heavily on his walking stick. Oof…so much for ibuprofen helping. Nevertheless, he had to be ready when it came time to tackle the river bank. He began to limp his way along the track that had been beaten down during his brother's hours of watch, trying not to whimper in pain. Gotta focus…focus on the goal, Grayson. Focus on the end result.

It was a sad but determined mantra that formed in his head and ran for the next two hours. Got to walk home to Bruce. He gasped for breath. Got to walk home to Alfred. A slight depression in the ground almost threw him off balance. Got to walk home to Dami. A fresh convulsion left him biting the insides of his cheeks. Got to walk home…