Guilt.

It's all about who has it, and who doesn't. Dick's regret weighs on him more than his wounds- despite having no recollection of how he'd acted when he'd been given medication the night before, he knows he screwed up. He made a mistake and the entire team payed the price; two of them, nearly with their lives.

Old friends come to his aide, and Dick leans more heavily on his family than ever. He knows it's foolish to miss her. It hadn't been that long that they were together, but… he can't shake the feeling that Harley gave him. That she still gives him. He knows that he should let her go, but he's just not ready to give up yet.

"...was a total disaster, I don't even know how to fix it, Selina," Bruce said quietly in the hallway. Dick was hazily aware of the egyptian cotton sheets beneath him, the burning in his side; the dark curtains pulled over the windows of his bedroom at Wayne Manor. He breathed in slowly, trying to control the pain.

"We take a step back. Regroup. Let's focus on getting everyone well again, Sweetheart," Selina purred. Dick smiled a little. He'd never heard anyone but Selina call Bruce 'Sweetheart'. For her, it worked with him. "A Mr. Kent called this morning, asking if you wanted any help. I told him you were dealing with family matters and would call him back." She added.

"I will, thank you. I don't need any help, though…" Bruce trailed off quietly as he opened Dick's bedroom door. There was a flash of light from the hall before he closed it behind himself and Selina. "How is he, Alfred?" Bruce asked, and Dick jumped when Alfred spoke. He'd been sitting in the armchair in the opposite corner of the room the entire time.

"Resting, sir. He'll be alright," he said gently. Dick couldn't decide whether to pretend to be asleep, or acknowledge their presence.

"Good. A total disaster…" Bruce sighed again, putting his hands in his pockets. Selina wrapped a hand around his bicep, resting her chin comfortingly on his shoulder.

"I am keeping a weather eye on Master Dick," Alfred assured him. "After his outbursts last night, we had to restrain him, but his fever has gone down considerably and I believe he has returned to normal. Perhaps Master Damian requires your attention?"

Restrain me? Dick thought confusedly, but then focused in on one thought. Damian.

"How is he?" Dick asked, trying to sit up. He was jerked back down by the belts wrapped around his hands attached to the bed; one of them he recognized as his own, and the other Barbara's. Yep. Restrain me. He dropped back against the pillows, wincing in pain as Alfred came to undo the belts. Selina had jumped when he talked, but Dick could see the relief flash over Bruce's face.

"Damian is fine. He should wake up soon. Want to come see him?" Bruce asked.

"Bruce, he should stay in bed and rest!" Selina protested.

"He's fine," Bruce dismissed her, and helped Dick to his feet. His arm wrapped around his son, Bruce led him out into the hall. "Take your time, Dick," Bruce said encouragingly.

"I am, I am…" Dick muttered, one hand pressed against the wall as he stumbled down the hall. Bruce made sure he didn't trip, a hand on his chest. They reached Damian's bedroom door and heard a tremendous smash. Bruce threw the door open in alarm and Tim shot out, half covered in oatmeal and looking not at all amused. He stood away from the door, crossing his arms over his stomach.

"I'm not going back in there!" Tim cried, and Damian shouted from the bedroom.

"Good riddance!"

"What the hell happened?!" Bruce demanded. Dick was starting to feel lightheaded, and leaned a little heavier on Bruce's shoulder. He supported his weight.

"The little demon was none too happy that I saved his life," Tim snapped, wiping oatmeal out of his hair.

"What?" Dick asked confusedly.

"The little monster needed a blood transfusion last night, and we share a blood type," Tim clarified. "Now if you'll excuse me…" he stormed down the hall, brushing past Alfred as he came to clean up the smashed oatmeal bowl in Damian's room.

"Absolutely revolting," Damian shouted as they came into his bedroom. He was sitting up on his bed, looking pale and furious. "Of all people- I'd rather you had let me die than share any sort of- ugh!"

"I'd rather you didn't die, Damian," Bruce said patiently. Dick smiled a little.

"I can feel the mediocrity coursing in my veins," he snapped. Dick actually laughed.

"Don't be so dramatic," he told Damian. "Bruce, I've got to sit down I'm going to pass out…" he added, and Bruce hastily helped him sit on the sofa across from Damian's bed.

"I can be as dramatic as I want," Damian snapped, sticking his nose in the air. "This is your fault."

"Yeah, you're definitely feeling yourself," Dick muttered. "How is this my fault?"

"I got shot trying to save you, dumbass, and then you go and get yourself stabbed," Damian retorted irritably.

"Thank you for that, by the way." Dick said quietly, looking at the bandages around Damian's waist. The boy dismissed his gratitude.

"I was doing my job and saving your sorry ass," he snapped.

"All the same, I wish you hadn't. I'd rather it had been me."

"Don't be stupid, Richard," Damian glared at him furiously. "Don't even think something so stupid."

"It isn't your fault, Dick," Bruce rested a hand on his shoulder, and he looked down and closed his eyes.

People keep saying that, but I still feel guilty. I'm still responsible. If I had been paying attention, if I had been faster, If I'd been better… Dick winced in pain.

"Master Damian, you really should eat something," Alfred insisted, bringing in a fresh bowl of oatmeal. Titus trotted in behind Alfred and leapt up on the bed, curling up beside Damian.

"I can't," he snapped. "Last time I tried to eat, I threw up."

"Well drink something then. Keep yourself hydrated," Alfred nodded, placing the tray on his bedside table. Dick looked up at Bruce.

"Where's Babs?" he asked quietly.

"She's downstairs. Jason hasn't showed, and I don't expect him to. He called a lot of attention to himself and the Red Hood last night," Bruce replied. "Do you need help?"

Dick stood shakily and held up a hand. "No, I think I can manage. Stay here with Damian. He needs you."

"I do not," Damian protested, but he was silenced when Dick glared at him.

"You almost died. Now humor your father and shut up, Damian."

Selina held the door for him as Dick left the room. He made his way slowly down the hallway, the pain in his side nearly debilitating, and he had to stop and rest against the wall for a moment.

He couldn't get her laugh out of his head. Her maniacal grin. She'd laughed, blown the building, and then left with the Joker. Her laugh had haunted the nightmares he'd had last night. It was almost too painful to acknowledge, the fact that she'd betrayed him again. Not only betrayed him, but abandoned him. Left him to die on that rooftop where her muse had stabbed him. Dick didn't want to think about it anymore, but it was all he could think about. Damian had been shot, Dick was given the chance to lead- and he'd completely fucked it up. He'd failed. Tim got pounded by the Joker, Damian got shot, Harley left him, and dozens of prisoners were now free in Gotham.

All because I trusted her. He stopped on the grand staircase, leaning on the railing; hot tears welled in his eyes. All my fault. All my stupid fault… Barbara was right. I love too easily.

He didn't see how Bruce would ever forgive him. Who knew how many supervillains were now terrorizing Gotham again? All Batman's hard work, destroyed and unraveled because of one blind love affair with a murderer.

And he hated himself for it, but he still couldn't bring himself to hate her. As much as he wanted to, as much as he wished he could in his anger and pain; Dick still loved Harley.

"Dick?" Barbara's voice broke through his confusion, and he looked up in surprise as he slipped. Barbara caught him, and he cried out, his hand flying to his side as the pain flared up again. She struggled to support his weight and sighed. "Come on, let's get you somewhere you can sit down," she said gently, hauling him to the parlor. Helping him lay down on a sofa, Barbara put a pillow under his head and draped a blanket over him.

"Thanks, Babs," he coughed a little, looking pale. She pushed his hair away from his damp forehead.

"I'm gonna go get you some food and painkillers," she sighed, walking away. Dick felt sick, and he pulled the blanket down to his waist. He felt hot and dizzy, and he closed his eyes against the light. "Here," Barbara said, returning. Dick wordlessly held out a hand and she dropped the pills into it, giving him a glass of water.

"Thanks," he mumbled again, taking the medicine. Barbara sat down in front of the couch on the floor, crossing her legs. Dick caught sight of a bruise on the side of her face. "What happened?!" he asked in alarm, reaching out to trace the bruise. She flinched away from his hand.

"You went insane last night," she snapped. "You hit me, nearly killed Alfred, and we had to restrain you."

Dick looked down guiltily, and said nothing in the silence.

"Do you not remember anything that happened last night?" she asked, gentler, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Dick shook his head. "Bruce brought Damian home. You kept trying to run off so we had to sedate you, but when you came to, you went nuts."

Dick still didn't respond. Add that to the list of things I did utterly wrong last night, he thought miserably.

"You kept screaming about her, saying you had to save her, she was mentally sick and you were the only one that could help her, and other bullshit. You fought us for a really long time, and thats when we had to tie you down…" She traced the burns on his wrists from the belts. "...but you kept trying. You were delirious; the pain and the fever and the medication all combined to make you completely lose it. It was really scary, Dick," she whispered, pressing her lips to her knee. Dick bit his lip and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry. Is that all I said?" he asked, not sure if he wanted to know more.

"When we tied you down, you cried for a while. You kept saying 'I didn't catch her. I promised, and I didn't catch her'." Barbara whispered. Dick's heart sank.

I did promise, he thought, the pain of that broken promise worse than the knife wound in his side. I told her I'd be there, and I wasn't. Failed. I failed.

"It was really hard to see you like that," Barbara said softly, closing her eyes. "Then you kept saying that it should have been you instead of Damian and stuff like that… Dick you can't blame yourself for everything that happened last night," she pressed, tracing the bullet scar on his shoulder. Dick closed his eyes.

"It was my fault. I should never have trusted her."

"No it wasn't. You fell in love. When is that a crime?" Barbara asked, smiling at him a little. Dick looked at her sadly.

"How can you not hate me?"

"I could never hate you, Robin," she smiled, stroking his cheek. He took her hand gently.

"I don't deserve someone like you." Dick sighed, and then dropped her hand. He wanted to completely forget about Harley. He never wanted to think about her again, never wanted to give those weeks a second thought, but he couldn't. He couldn't let go of her because he didn't want to. Nightwing hated her. Dick Grayson wanted to give her a second chance.

"How can you still miss her?" Barbara asked. She didn't sound angry. She seemed… genuinely curious. Dick shook his head slowly.

"I'm not sure," he said truthfully.

"I can't imagine how you must feel, Dick… but I'm here for you. I'll always be here, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed. "I don't really know what I feel. I'm upset and confused and angry and hurt… but I feel numb. Like I'm still in shock…" he bit his lip, trying to explain. "I don't really feel anything very strongly but guilt. I can't. If I did…" he trailed off again. If I did feel everything I know I should be feeling, I'd kill myself, he thought, closing his eyes again. He jumped when Barbara wrapped her arms around him, bending over to give him a hug. Dick didn't quite realize just how much he'd needed it until her thin arms were around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her, clinging to her shirt as he buried his face in her red hair and stifled a sob.

"We all forgive you, Dick," she whispered hoarsely. She just wanted him to feel better and stop blaming himself. He pulled her close and she knelt beside him, stroking his hair at the nape of his neck. "You're a hero, just like the rest of us. We forgive you."

"Guys?" Tim asked suddenly, and Barbara looked up at him. Dick still held her hand tightly.

"What is it, Tim?" She blushed a bit, and then chided herself for blushing. She hadn't done anything wrong.

"Bruce is on his way down with Damian and Selina, just thought I'd warn you," he replied.

"Thanks, Tim," Dick said. Why am I blushing?

They heard a sudden thump before Bruce shouted Damian's name angrily, and then Selina walked into the parlor, followed by Bruce carrying Damian in his arms. The boy didn't look at all happy.

"What the hell was that?" Barbara asked, standing.

"He tried to walk like I told him not to, and he fell," Bruce said, looking pointedly at Damian as he set him gently in the high wing-back chair by the fireplace.

"If Grayson can walk, I can walk," Damian snapped.

"Actually, I nearly fell down the stairs. Babs had to catch me," Dick pointed out. Damian ignored him.

"Okay," Bruce sighed, looking around at his disgruntled boys. Barbara moved Dick's pillow and sat down, replacing his head gently in her lap. Damian and Dick were pale and nowhere near ready for action. Barbara looked ready, if not 100 percent, and Tim still seemed to be recovering from his concussion. Selina traced a hand along Bruce's broad shoulders as she walked past him to the windows, sending a chill down his spine. He ignored her. "Batgirl and I will be working to recover the nearly three dozen criminals and patients that escaped from Arkham last night. The rest of you will be here, recuperating, until further notice. Dick and Damian especially. Tim may join us when he is better."

Bruce paused, waiting for the inevitable tidal wave of protest that he would meet. A second of silence passed, and the three of them burst into shouts.

"I am more than capable of working wounded!" Damian shouted, and Dick agreed with him.

"We don't have the resources to deal with this problem divided!" Dick cried. "The Joker is still out there, along with countless others- the people of Gotham are in danger and you can't stop this alone, Bruce!"

"I'm not alone, I'll have Selina and Barbara-"

"-That still isn't enough!" Tim threw up his hands in exasperation. "I don't think Dick and Damian are well enough to be working, but I have a minor concussion! You've let Dick work with a concussion before!"

Bruce raised his eyebrows, putting his hands on his hips, and watched the three of them. When their shouting tapered down, he looked at them earnestly. "You seem to think that this is a democratic decision. It's not. What I say goes, and that is only-" he held up a hand to silence Damian "-because I will not stand to lose any one of you to the Joker. He nearly murdered you two last night, and if it hadn't been for Barbara and Tim, you would be dead." He glared at them seriously. "I want you to understand the gravity of what could have happened. Now I refuse to lose two of my sons because I was lenient with my instructions, so I want this to be perfectly clear. Damian, Dick; you two are not allowed to leave this house for at least three days. I don't want to hear any protest." He glared at them both. Dick nodded slowly.

"We can handle operation from the Batcave," he decided, daring Damian to say different. The boy nodded reluctantly in agreement. Dick looked up at Bruce. "Thank you."

"Thank you, Father," Damian acknowledged him calmly.

They all began to talk around the room, discussing strategies. Dick's medication was kicking in, and he could feel his eyelids getting heavier as he looked up at Barbara. She watched Bruce, listening attentively, and when she caught sight of Dick looking at her she smiled down at him.

"Go to sleep, Dick, you don't need to try to fight it." She whispered, stroking his soft, dark hair. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing and her hand on his chest.

"Is he asleep?" Bruce said quietly. Barbara stroked Dick's cheek.

"I think so," she whispered.

"I don't know what we're going to do about Harley Quinn," Bruce sighed. Her name was like a knife in his back, piercing his heart, but Dick remained still.

"I don't want him anywhere near her," Barbara said sharply.

"Neither do I," Bruce agreed, "I think it's safe to assume that when we come across her, we do not hesitate to use force."

"Not a problem," Barbara whispered, tracing the scars on Dick's chest. He remained still, hiding his rising panic and guilt as he breathed softly and drifted to sleep.