"...C'mere, huh?" Dick beckoned after Wally had reluctantly followed Batman out of the medical bay. "I missed you."

Damian hesitated. He had fought so hard for so many days to get into the same room with the man lying on the bed, yet now that they were mere feet apart his boots seemed to be glued to the floor. What are you doing, you stupid baby? he lectured himself scornfully. Hadn't he battled Flash – and nearly won several times, at that – just for a chance to step through the door? Hadn't he then nearly torn his own muscles to pieces with the strain of following Superman's request that they sit tight and wait for Batman to emerge in his own time rather than barging in? Hadn't he hung back when they'd finally been given leave to enter, hung back and watched while the old friends greeted one another like brothers?

He'd waited long enough, more than long enough, but he still couldn't move. The desire that had almost driven him to invade despite the Kryptonian's comment of 'you know how they are' had fled, leaving fear in its place. Why did he have to put you on that bed? he moaned. The blood-spattered hand that was reaching out for him curled back on itself in his mind, caught up in a sudden deadly seizure. He closed his eyes, but the body under the blankets arched up anyway, gasping for air that it couldn't process, then fell still. His father rushed back into room, and the same awful scream of denial that had woken him every night for almost a week rang again in his ears.

"Dami?"

Swallowing hard, he looked up. A curious but sad smile was waiting for him instead of the rictus of agonized death he'd half expected, and he had to choke back a cry of relief.

"Are you still mad at me, little brother?"

"...No," he whispered. 'I'm going to be alone!' his own voice echoed in his head. 'The way I prefer to be!' "I'm sorry," he blurted out.

Dick frowned. "You haven't done anything wrong," he shook his head. "Heck, so far as I can tell you've been doing amazingly. I mean, you were the one-"

"For what I said!" he cut him off. "I...I'm sorry for what...what I said." Grayson still looked puzzled. "On...on the roof. Before you left. I...I'm sorry." He pulled his lower lip back between his teeth, unconsciously imitating the man before him. I don't want to be alone, after all.

"...Oh, Dami," a tearful moan sounded. "Come here. It's okay."

"It's not," he denied. His mask was growing damp again, but he couldn't help it. "It's not okay. I...I didn't mean it, Grayson, honest. I didn't..." There was a hiss of pain. Blinking his vision clear, he found Dick sitting up and holding his shoulder, a determined grimace on his lips. "What are you doing?! Lay down!"

"If you're not – ow – gonna come to me, then I'm coming to you."

"You can't come to me, both of your legs are broken. I heard you telling Flash." Nevertheless, the threat was enough to draw him a step closer. "Don't. Just don't." You'll make it worse. You'll hurt yourself. I don't want to watch you die anymore...

"I don't know why you're still over in that corner now that we're alone, Dami, but I'm not going to wait much longer to give you a hug. Especially," he peered at him, "since you're crying. That being the case, I will crawl to you if I have to." Lowering his good arm to his knees, he swung one leg off of the bed. "Ugh," he groaned, swaying. "Blood rush. Yuck."

"Grayson-" Don't fall. Please, please don't fall...

"You know I'll do it," he said quietly. "You know I'll drag myself over there by my teeth if it comes down to it."

Damian did know, and that was why he was able to finally cover the remaining distance to his brother's side. "Lay down," he urged. "You're not supposed to be up."

"I'll lay down if you come sit up here with me."

"There's no room." I don't want to hurt you more than I already have.

"There's room if you snuggle up." He felt Dick's hand run over the top of his head. "I know you can't say it out loud, but you want a hug just as much as I do right now."

A tiny whimper escaped him. I do, he confessed silently. It's stupid and mushy and childish, but I do... "Put your leg back up first."

"Help me?"

"...Okay." The flesh beneath his fingers was hot – too hot, he fretted – and swollen. He tried to be gentle, but the limb's elevation change still drew a fresh moan. "Sorry!" I did this to you, he thought, his stomach clenching. If I hadn't told you that you were the only ones who could save the world, how much less broken would you be?

But Dick just blinked at him. "You've said that twice now," he commented. "Come up here and tell me what's going on, huh?"

"I don't want to hurt you." If I kick you on accident, or...or move weird... Hyperventilation, blood clots, and shock all presented themselves to his overworking imagination, and as much as he wanted to throw himself into those waiting arms, he couldn't. I've already done enough. Too much…

"You'll hurt me a lot more if you don't let me give you a hug. C'mon, please? I know something's bothering you, and the last time I checked I was the only known cure for the Dami Doldrums."

"...The 'Dami Doldrums'?" He snorted out of habit. "That's a new one."

"Yup. Made it up just for you."

Of course you did, you sappy, wonderful jerk. Somehow he got his hands to grip the edge of the table, and a second later he'd boosted himself onto it. "I'm up," he remarked, trying not to touch him. "Hey-!"

The protest was no use, as he was pulled sideways and into a suffocating embrace almost before he could finish voicing it. Not daring to fight lest he cause pain, he stiffened.

"You're not going to hurt me," Dick promised. "It's okay now. Just relax, little brother."

He couldn't keep himself from loosening under the man's ministrations. It was wrong, he knew – he should have been comforting Grayson, not the other way around – but it felt so nice that he didn't have the heart to try and swap their roles. I'm a terrible nurse, anyway, he excused himself as fingers smoothed his hair. And...and a terrible brother, too. "I'm sorry," he murmured again.

"Stop." Lips pressed against his scalp. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"But I...what I said-"

"Leave it be, okay? You were upset. We can talk about it later."

"No!" Marshaling his strength, he pulled away. "I...I don't want to wait."

"...Is it part of the reason you couldn't come close a minute ago?"

"Um...maybe? Yes. I think so. I don't know." He couldn't look at Dick's exhausted eyes and pale skin any longer, so he turned his head away. "...I didn't mean it. I don't...I don't want to be alone. I don't really prefer that."

"I know. But it's okay; you're not alone."

"I would have been!" he exclaimed. "I almost was! The earthquake, and the force field, and the river, and...and here..."

"Here? What do you mean-"

"It was almost the last thing I ever said to you! Don't you see that?!" Damian pressed his hands over his ears, trying to banish the scream that had filled his head once more. "...What if you'd died thinking I hated you?" he choked.

"Noooo," Dick moaned, tugging him back around and into his arms. "No, baby bird. No. I never thought that," he crooned. "Never."

"But I-"

"Never, Dami. I know better. Remember," his voice dropped to a whisper, "I have years of experience when it comes to knowing things that can't be said."

He sniffled. "...Father said that about you, too, more or less. But that doesn't make it right."

"Maybe not. But it doesn't make it your fault, either. Besides, we spoke after that. The last thing you said to me before now was that you would do good things and that you wouldn't forget that I love you. And that made me so happy, Dami. So happy. So even if I had died after that, our last words would have been good ones."

"It sh-should have been a non-issue," he cried. "If I hadn't...hadn't told you to go save the w-world...if I'd waited for Batman to t-tell you..." Raising his face, he glared. "You having last words to worry about wasn't s-supposed to happen! Ever!" Don't die, Grayson. Live forever. "Never...never ever..."

Dick didn't say anything to that, but Damian felt the arm across his back tighten. Pinned in place, he was forced to let his tears fall against his brother's neck. It was neither the driest nor the most fragrant tissue he'd ever been offered, but there was a steady thrum of life pulsing through it that he could hear if he turned his head just so, and that more than made up for its deficiencies. Reaching up with both hands, he clung to that gentle rhythm and let it calm his guilt and fear.

"...Better now, little brother?" came several minutes later.

"...Yes," he answered. He didn't want to loosen his grip, but Grayson really was supposed to be lying down. Besides, the last thing he wanted was for Father or Drake to walk in and do something tasteless like take a picture. "You shouldn't be sitting," he said as he retreated a few inches.

"You're not going to run away to your corner and start blaming yourself for things again if I do, right?"

"No," he shook his head. "I...I'll stay here."

"Okay." He watched as the man lowered himself onto his back. "...I'm so proud of you, do you know that?"

"You shouldn't be," he argued. "How many rules did I break while you were away?"

"Oh, fifty or so, I'd bet. But I can chalk that up to extenuating circumstances, and," he winked, "I'll bet I can get Bruce to, too. Speaking of..."

The door had opened to let Batman pass through. Behind him came Drake, dripping and holding his arm but otherwise looking no worse than the last time Damian had seen him. Something the boy hadn't realized was still twisted in his gut loosened, drawing a frown across his lips. It was almost, he thought, like he cared what had happened to both of them, not just Grayson. Strange...

"Timmy!" Dick cheered, extending his good hand towards the new arrival. "...What's wrong with your arm?"

"A rock fell on it," the younger man replied as he bent down for an off-kilter hug. "It's broken. How are you?"

"Also broken," Dick gestured at his legs. "Good times, huh?"

"Yeah. Marvelous."

Damian caught his eye as he straightened. "...Drake," he said, feeling uncharacteristically awkward.

Something that might have the beginnings of a pained smirk formed at the corners of Tim's mouth. "Hey, Robin. Looks like you're stuck putting up with me for at least a little while longer."

He felt his cheeks color slightly. "I...I guess I don't mind so much," he replied, looking away. "Anyway, it looks like you both made efforts to turn me into an only child, so..."

"Heh." His lips twitched a bit higher. "Yeah, I suppose we did."

Batman cleared his throat pointedly. "Tim. Bed."

"I'm coming," Tim tossed over his shoulder, then met Damian's eyes once more. "Stay over here on the flight back, would you? I've had about all the cuddling in narrow beds I think I can take for this week, but you know Dick; his tank is never full."

Seven days earlier Damian would have interpreted that as an insult aimed at both himself and the man whose heat he could feel against his lower back. Now, though, he heard it for what it was; an invitation to stick close and cloak his need for physical contact with their elder brother as taking one for the team. A look of gratitude threatened to break across his face as he nodded. "...I guess I can do your chores for you for a bit."

"Only until Leslie looks at my shoulder," Dick, who was beaming at them, put in. "Once I have two functional arms again you're both getting cuddled."

"Was that a threat?" Tim arched an eyebrow.

"You know it was," Damian answered, suddenly feeling better than he had since before the other two had left on their trip. "Although I fail to see how he intends to carry it out with two broken legs."

"I have my ways," Dick promised. "Hey!" They all turned to see Batman pulling a needle from beneath his lacerated skin. "What was that for?"

"For you to go to sleep."

"What about Charity? And Tracy? We still have to get them!"

"Charity's in the cargo hold with Flash," Tim explained. Something in his expression raised questions in Damian's mind, but he held them back for now. "Tracy's..."

"Superman's looking for her," Batman cut in. "Now go to sleep, Dick. They," he indicated the other two, "won't until you do, and you all need to rest."

"Alright, alright..." Yawning, Dick let his eyes close. "Overprotective dorks," he murmured affectionately, then passed out.

"...Do I have to sedate the pair of you, too?" Batman asked when neither Tim nor Damian moved.

"No," Tim shook his head and started towards the other bed. "I'm going."

"Robin?"

"I'll lay down."

"Good." The cowled figure considered them for a moment, then swung away towards the hall. "I need to make a couple of calls. You had better both be asleep by the time I get back," he ordered, turning off the light. "Otherwise, I will sedate you."

"Guess we'd better listen," Tim opined once the door had shut. "He's not in a joking mood."

"Understandably." A beat passed. "Um...Drake?"

The rustling coming from his direction stopped. "Yeah?"

"I'm..." He gulped. I could have killed you, too. I could have killed you with that mission, and I don't even remember what my last words to you would have been. Whatever they were, he was fairly certain that Drake would have died thinking that he loathed him. If they were all blown out of the sky on the way home, Damian decided suddenly, he wanted to be sure that the other male had a more accurate idea of how things were. "...I'm not sorry that you're not dead. I just...you should know that, that's all."

"...Thanks, Damian," a quiet acknowledgement came. "I'm...I'm not sorry that I'm not dead, too. Being dead...well, there's no time to try new things then, you know?"

"To...try new things?" He narrowed his eyes, puzzled. What did that have to do with anything?

"Yeah. Try new things...get to know people a little better...anyway. There's time now, and I'm glad for it."

"Oh!" He understood now. Time for...well…time for us to not hate each other, maybe. "Me, too."

The beginnings of an unspoken truce unfurled between them in the darkness. It was Tim who finally broke the silence, and for once Damian didn't find his advice intrusive. "...We'd better get to sleep. I don't want to deal with the wrath of Batman right now, and since you've probably already got that in your future you might not want to make it any worse."

"Yeah...I guess you're…ah…well, right." With that he curled up cautiously under Grayson's less damaged arm, not quite touching him but getting close. Things shifted about for a moment on the other side of the room, then ceased, leaving only the distant white noise of the jet's engines.

...Goodnight, Drake, Damian thought sincerely. Goodnight, Dick. Have good dreams – I think maybe I'll even be able to, now...

Author's Note: We have just a couple more chapters to go now, and just a few more loose ends to wrap up. Happy reading!