Archive of Our Own

Dick

It was supposed to be a short mission. Quick. In and out. Unnoticed and undetected. They just needed an extra set of eyes, an experienced set of eyes to help scope out the old Riddler hideout. On the outside, it looked like a completely normal, Victorian-esk house, but on the inside it was a maze of twists, turns and traps. Good ol’Eddie was still in Arkham, of course, but Tim was sure there was a file at the hideout that could help with one of his cases. Though he’d traced the map of the decrepit building a dozen times over, he wanted to bring someone who’d had hands-on experience with the bobby traps- just in case. With Bruce out of town for the week, the only working superhero who’d spent considerable time there, was Dick.

He should’ve said no. He should always say no. But every time, something possesses him, something that apparently wants him to spend his Saturday nights in a dilapidated lair in Gotham, answers the phone and says yes.

The team was comprised of Red Robin, Nightwing, Spoiler, Signal, and Robin- though how Damian got on the list, Dick wasn’t sure and frankly, didn’t want to get in the middle of. The plan was simple: break in through the back entrance, dismantle any booby traps and start searching. They’d sweep each floor until they found the file they were looking for.

It was supposed to be simple. Easy. Quick. And to be fair, it was almost all of those things. It really was. They found the file on the third floor, stored in a filing cabinet in the old lab. The last time Dick was here, the Riddler had sprayed him with acid after he guessed the end of his puzzle before he was done reciting it. So all in all, this was shaping up to be a better visit.

That was, until Dick closed the cabinet. As soon as it clicked shut, he realized his mistake. It was a rookie move, something he should’ve anticipated, but for whatever reason tonight, it slipped his mind.

Dick locked eyes with Tim, who realized his mistake just before the other did. In seconds, they’d be under attack. It was a classic Riddler tactic, luer the victim into a false sense of security, and once they have what they need and their guard is down, then it can all fall apart.

The Riddler was a tricky man. He loved to subvert. To confuse. To incite panic.

In this case, it seemed, he’d flush them out. Literally. One moment, they were all standing on disheveled but dry ground, and the next, they were ankle deep in water. Jets opened on every wall and shot into the room with shocking force. In seconds they would be treading water. They went to the windows and doors first, but those had locked as soon as the room started to flood.

“Go to higher ground!” Dick shouted. To their credit, the team switched seamlessly from stealth-mode to getthefuckout-mode. Steph bashed open the vent in the ceiling, which appeared to be their quickest path to higher ground, and Tim was quick to jump in. Duke practically tossed Damian into the vent, which the former was less than pleased about, before Dick gave him a boost in. Dick would be last. He wouldn’t have had it any other way. And it should’ve been fine. They had the time.

The only problem was, the hideout was old. The Riddler had been gone for some time, and no one, it seemed, had continued with the upkeep. I mean, in any case, flooding a large room on the third floor of any building was probably a bad idea. One moment, Dick was waist-deep in murky water, reaching up to join them in the vents, and the next he was on the world’s worst water slide. A hole opened in the floor, creating a whirlpool that started to funnel all of the debris out of the room- and Dick along with it. He tried to swim against it, to grab on to a floating table and use it to boost himself up into the vent, but it was no use. The current became too strong, and he found himself going under.

After several tumbles and swirls, Dick was shot out of the floor and landed with the rest of the water-logged equipment into the main hall.

He came to in a pile of debris by the front door they’d so carefully evaded.

“Oh fuck me.” Dick hissed, trying to sit up. He was drenched, banged up and his head was throbbing. He tried to asses the situation. Everything hurt, obviously, but a pounding in his knee started to scream louder than anything else. Dick tried to touch the leg, which was warped to one side, and flinched. It was a familiar feeling, and a bad one. 

After a few minutes, he heard a scuffle from above as his sibling descended on their respective grabbling hooks and wings.

“Nightwing is down.” Steph said, into her comms. Dick groaned. He didn’t need more people, least of all Babs, getting into this. “I have eyes on him.”

“Nightwing is not down. Nightwing is just-” Dick tried to get up, sending a sharp spike of pain through his body that forced him back down. “Fuck okay, yeah I’m down.” He muttered, lying back on the pile of trash that cushioned his fall.

Tim jumped off of his rope and ran over, kneeling in front of Dick with a familiarly pensive look. He was assessing him for injuries, which was fair.

“Signal, Spoiler, Robin. Assess the area for other traps.” He called behind him. The others spread out across the floor without another word. Tim turned back to him, frowning. “You okay?”

“Oh just peachy.” Dick forced out a laugh. He tried to get up again, but moving sent a shooting pain up his body. He groaned. “This is why I don’t come to Gotham.”

“I didn’t realize it was impossible to drown in Bludhaven.” Tim teased. He was already scanning Dick’s body with his tech, getting a reading on his vitals. Their field-blood-pressure machine wasn’t as good as a hospital’s of course, but it could let you know if you were going into heart failure. From Tim’s tone, Dick could tell he was probably in the clear.

“It doesn’t happen as often.” Dick countered.

“The room is secure.” Duke said, as he and Stephanie returned to the scene.

Steph was talking into her comm, meaning she was still involving Babs, which was all the more irritating. Dick was fine, he’d be fine and this was, frankly, getting embarrassing.

“I’ll be right back.” Tim said, standing to rejoin the rest of the team. He looked back, a smug smile creeping across his face. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“You’re hilarious, you know that.” Dick rolled his eyes.

The three young heroes talked together in a hushed tone, which was unappreciated.

“Yeah.” Steph said, into her comm. She gave him a glance and a thumbs up. Dick gave one back. “Yeah. He’s talking.”

“Hey, Spoiler, you don’t have to-” Dick started to call off whatever emergency team was being called, but was quickly interrupted by a small hand stabbing his stomach. “Robin!” Dick flinched, sending a new wave of pain through his leg.

“I’m conducting an assessment.” The boy explained, continuing to prod across his midsection. Dick hand’t even noticed the kid creep up to him. It was a reminder that they should be grateful he didn’t sneak up on them more often. He could really disappear when he wanted to. Damian sat back on his heels. “We need to make sure you don’t have concussion or internal injuries.”

Damian reached out to touch his head, but Dick deflected his hand.

“It’s okay, bud.” Dick said, gently. He gestured to his left leg. “It’s just the knee.”

“You can’t be certain.” Damian said, eyes narrowed.

“I promise you, I know this feels like.” Dick sighed. “It’s the knee.”

“Okay, I’m arranging extraction.” Tim announced, as the others rejoined Dick in his pile of debris. “We’ll get your civies and-”

“No.” Dick said, quickly. A trip to the ER was not on his to-do list this weekend. He’d go, eventually, if it got bad enough, but on his own. Alone. By himself. “It’s fine. I can just wrap this at home.”

“No can do.” Tim shrugged. “My mission, my rules.”

“You know if this was you, you’d just go home.” Dick reasoned.

“True. But it’s not. So you’re going to the hospital.” Tim said, decisively.

With a few shaky moves, Tim and Stephanie lifted Dick out of his pile and got him outside to wait on the stoop of the hideout. It was bad enough sidetracking a mission, now everyone around him had to literally carry him to safety. It wasn’t a position Dick liked to be in. Especially not when he knew what was waiting for him at the hospital.

“I know you hate this, but think of it this way.” Tim explained, scanning the area. This was a largely abandoned part of town, they were completely alone. It would’ve been almost pretty out here, besides the circumstances. The sun was just creeping up over the water. “I can’t break the last Flying Grayson. Especially not on a stealth mission in B’s territory when he’s out of town.”

“Yeah, I can’t go down for this either, sorry Nightwing.” Duke nodded, leaning on the banister of the stoop. “I’m already on thin ice.”

“He stole one of Batman’s bikes.” Damian said, filling them in. He hadn’t left Dick’s side since he scrambled into his heap of debris.

“Hey, I borrowed a bike.” Duke corrected. Dick laughed, lightly. He’d done the same in his first year with Bruce.

“Don’t you have wings?” Steph asked, raising an eyebrow. She and Tim were on the steps, keeping lookout.

“I can want to do more than one thing.” Duke shrugged.

“Your ride’s here.” Tim announced, as a rusty pickup truck rolled down the dirt driveway of the hideout. It was dingy and dusty and maybe the last thing that he would’ve expected. The only thing more surprising, was who stepped out of it.

“Since when do you have a car?” Dick gawked.

“Hello to you to.” Jason laughed. He walked up to their stoop with his helmet in his hand. Dick took him in. He hadn’t seen his brother in about a month. He looked okay, better than he had last time. Less exhausted, which was all he could hope for. “My bike’s in the shop.” He shrugged.

“You’re late.” Tim frowned, meeting Jason on the sidewalk.

“Sorry, I didn’t get your first message.” Jason said, entirely unbothered. “I don’t have your number saved.”

“I called you through the comms.” Tim said, irritated.

“I blocked your comm, then.” Jason said, shortly.

“Oh you’re funny.” Tim scoffed. “You know what else is funny? Leaking your identity.”

“Guys!” Dick called, from the stoop. He motioned to his broken body. “Can you do this later?”

Tim and Stephanie hoisted Dick back up and began to get him down the steps, a process as painful as it was frustrating. Jason, bless his revived heart, made it all the better.

“You’re dripping wet. Is any of that blood?” Jason asked, walking beside them as they lugged him into the car. “I don’t want blood on the seats that’s hard to clean out.”

“I’ll pay for the detailing. What would it cost for this car? Five bucks?” Dick said back, dryly. Jason smirked.

“Signal,” Tim called. Duke hustled over to the car. “Ride with over with them.”

“Not necessary-” Dick called, but Tim already closed his door. In an instant, Duke had scrambled into the small back seat of the pickup, his knees all-too squished in.

Just before they left, which felt like it had been eight lives since Dick was washed away, Damian crept up to Dick’s open window.

“Don’t worry Nightwing.” Damian started, earnestly. “I’ll make sure to tell father that you’re getting care.”

Dick blanched.

“No don’t-”

“Bye!” Jason yelled, starting the engine, his terrible car sputtering louder than any of Dick’s pleading. In seconds, they were speeding down the driveway, a cloud of exhaust trailing behind them.

The hospital was only about a twenty minute drive from the Riddler’s hideout, which was good, because if it had been any longer, Dick wasn’t sure they’d make it. Not because of his injuries, but because of his brother.

“Jason!” Dick hissed, as they made an unbelievably illegal turn. “You’re a terrible driver.”

“You taught me how to drive, so that’s on you.” Jason shrugged.

Dick rolled his eyes and returned to the task of putting on his civies. The clothes Jason had pulled from one of his stashes were fairly simple, a crewneck and a pair of sweats. The only problem, was that every time he moved his leg, he threatened to black out. The swelling didn’t help either. Dick had gotten the top half of his suit off and yanked on the sweater, but the pants were a non-starter. And they were running out of time.

“Can you even take that off right now?” Jason asked, glancing at his progress.

“Yes.” Dick spat. “It’s fine.”

“Hey, Flashlight.” Jason said, looking in his rearview mirror. Duke raised an eyebrow. “Tell Thompkins we’ll meet her around back. They can take the suit off when he’s unconscious.”

“I said it’s fine.”

Without warning, Jason slapped Dick’s injured knee, causing a new wave of pain to shoot through his body. Dick doubled over.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Jason muttered.

“I hate you.” Dick said, breathless.

“You look green. Don’t throw up in my car.”

The rest of the drive was silent, but Dick was secretly grateful that they were going through the private entrance. Dr. Thompkins had the a longtime doctor of the Wayne family, and knew how to be discrete which meant that he didn’t need to put on his civilian clothes.

When they finally pulled up, there was already a stretcher waiting in the alley. Without being asked, Jason parked the car and helped him onto the bed. Dick knew it was his apology for smacking his leg. They were both raised by Bruce, which meant action was always picked over actually saying anything- sorry included.

“Duke, get out.” Jason instructed, as Dick started to get strapped in. “You’re going in with him.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” Duke saluted, hopping out of the car.

“You’re so weird.” Jason muttered, pinching his nose.

“You were worse.” Dick called, as they started to roll away.

Through the glass doors, Dick could see that Jason waited until they were inside to leave. It was enough for them right now. Way more than enough. Baby steps.

As soon as they got inside, they wheeled Dick to a private room for intake. Someone whisked Duke away to get into civilian clothes, leaving Dr. Thompson and Dick to catch up. She went through her usual list of reasons why what he does is irresponsible and dangerous as he explained what happened. After an initial assessment and an x-ray, she confirmed what Dick had thought: he didn’t have any internal injuries that wouldn’t heal on their own (a win), nor did he sustain any head injuries (double win), but he’d hurt his leg in the way he really, really didn’t want to do again.

He shouldn’t have picked up the phone. But he did. And he probably would again.

Duke

Duke wasn’t sure why he was picked to go with Dick. He wasn’t sure why he was picked for a lot of stuff, honestly. At this point in his life, he was just sort of going with what came. And that wasn’t a perfect system, honestly it kind of sucked most of the time, but riding the metaphorical wave was better than pushing against every single thing that came his way. It was easier than resisting his powers. Easier than thinking about what could be different if he’d saved his parents. It made the manor easier. And Damian. And Bruce.

When they got in the car, Duke took off his helmet. It seemed to be what they were doing. Dick had taken off his cowl and Jason never even had his on. Duke and Jason didn’t know each other very well. They’d met a few times, but this was actually the first time he saw his face. He was so much younger than he thought he’d be.

Dick knew him though. That much was clear. Duke had heard the legends, the rumors of the Red Hood long before he joined this cobbled family. He knew him as a killer. A lord of the streets. More myth than man. Suffice to say, he wasn’t someone you snapped at, not like his brothers did. Tim and Jason had a precarious history, but Dick and Jason… it seemed like more than that. Jason cared about him. He cared a lot. And Dick couldn’t see it. Which was fair, right now at least, his knee was the size of a bowling ball. But every other time, that was on both of them.

Dr. Thompkins was nice. Duke had met her a few times, and each time she’d been kind to him, and a little coarse with Bruce, which was incredibly entertaining. She didn’t agree with their line work, but she patched them up every time.

Duke had never seen her work this quickly, though. As soon as they got through the double doors, they were rushing Dick off to get x-rayed and shoving a pair of sweats in his hands. An aide practically shoved him into a vacant room to change. Once Duke tucked his gear into a nondescript tote, he was whisked into another room to wait for his brother.

His brother.

Duke was still getting used to that, honestly. It felt easier with Tim and Steph, he could think of them like friends or pseudo-mentors who were just a few steps ahead of him on this whole hero-journey. They were close enough in age so they watched the same things, were on the same kinds of social media and other things like that. They’d just gotten to the point where he could text either of them to hang out outside of the cowl. It was nice.

Cass and Damian were less easy. Living together was… an adjustment. Cass was quiet, she kept to herself most of the time, but she never turned him away. She felt like Tim and Steph too, more like a friend. And she could drive, which was a plus. The heir to the Al-Ghul Empire wa sa different story. He iked his personal space, and in his mind his space was every space in the manor, minus Cass and Duke’s allotted rooms. Once they negotiated the common spaces, they were able to build a real relationship. He was new to this like Duke was. To all of it. And he had other people too, parents who couldn’t take care of him but had for a long time. Cass did too, but hers was more complicated. She left, Damian was taken away, like Duke was. He understood that this was hard. That you could love Bruce and still dream of another place, of other people, you call home.

Dick was different. He was the original everything. He was the first son. The first Robin. The first kid sidekick, ever. He was the north star of everyone that came after him. The guiding light. The pedestal every Wayne kid aimed for. He was a fable, a bedtime story. The little bird that lived with a bat. The boy from the circus who swung from the chandeliers from Wayne manor. The bonafide Prince of Gotham. His reputation was multiplicitous. Iconic. Intimidating as hell.

The first time Duke met Dick out of the cowl, was about a week after he moved in. He came to meet him, which was nice, and also to yell at Bruce about something, which was more interesting than anything else. He’d never seen anyone talk to Bruce like that, and his new guardian didn’t lie down and take it either. Damian, who was working really hard to look unbothered by the affair, told him that they did this every few weeks. Normally it was about Jason. Sometimes it was about him.

But that was eight months ago. Today, he was sitting in a hospital room, in a somewhat stilted silence, as the great Boy Wonder laid in his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Duke tried not to gawk at the wrap around his knee, it was pretty big and topped with ice, and instead opted to scroll through different apps on his phone. Dick hadn’t said anything since he was wheeled in, and Duke wasn’t sure what to ask after “are you dying?” which got a laugh, but little else. He wasn’t really sure what to do, except text vague updates. All he knew was that he was supposed to stay until someone else got here. Dick was apparently known to be a flight risk, though how he could escape right now, Duke didn’t know. Still, he was supposed to stay.

Duke’s phone buzzed, after a grueling fifteen minutes, giving him something to say.

“B just pulled up.” Duke said, reading a cryptic here text from his guardian.

“Oh great.” Dick laughed, dryly. He ran a hand over his hair. He’d dried off since the whole flushing incident, but his hair was frizzy from the affair. He was also pretty pale, but that seemed par for the course.

Duke waited for him to say something else, but nothing came. He looked around for the umpteenth time. The room was pretty nice, all things considered. They had a nice window with a view. The chair wasn’t too uncomfortable either. Duke glanced at his phone and mulled his options. He could tell him who else he called or, they could sit in more silence, and Dick could become very surprised.

“I called Wally too.” He admitted.

“What?” Dick jolted up, and was instantly forced back down by his pain. Duke cringed. “He’s going to freak out.” He groaned.

“Well, yeah.” Duke said, matter-of-factly. They were in a hospital. That was evident. “But then he’ll be here. And that’s good.” He shrugged. “You’re different with him.”

“Different how?” Dick asked.

Duke thought for a moment. He hadn’t known either of them that long, but it was clear as day that Wally changed him. Cass had been teaching him how to observe, and he was a fast learner. When Wally came around, it was like something was lit up in Dick, he was calmer, warmer. He laughed louder.

“Different good, I think.” Duke mused. Dick raised an eyebrow.

“I feel like that’s an insult.” He mused.

“It’s not.” Duke insisted.

Before they could continue, something caught Dick’s eye in the doorway. He tensed. Duke knew who it was before even turning around.

“Dick.” Bruce said. His guardian was standing in the doorframe in a business suit. It looked like he left the meeting and went straight to the plane, or Zeta tube, even. For a single, solitary second, Duke mulled over the idea of asking if he could have his day shift off. But he quickly dashed that away when he saw his expression. His face was unreadable to most, but Duke could tell he was exhausted. And nervous. Really nervous.

“Hey, B.” Dick waved a hand. He was propped up on a dozen pillows, as was his leg.

Bruce stepped in and came up to the side of the bed. He examined Dick’s monitors with a careful eye as they waited in silence. Then, he turned to his son. Duke watched as the hand by his side flexed and unflexed, like he was resisting the urge to hug him or brush Dick’s hair from his face. Duke frowned. He kind of wished Cass hadn’t been teaching him. 

“Does it feel like it did in Santa Prisca?” Bruce asked, instead. Duke raised an eyebrow, interest peaked.

“I don’t know.” Dick sighed, looking at the leg.

“Yes you do.”

Dick was quiet for a moment, before turning back to his dad.

“It does.” He said, resigned.

“Okay.” Bruce sighed. He started towards the door. “I’ll get Alfred to send over some of your things. I’ll be back in ten.”

Duke was entirely lost. It was like they were having a conversation between the lines. They’d said five words. They speaking in the language of a shared history, one he was entirely unaware of. He was supposed to be sending updates, and he still had nothing to write. Fuck going with the flow.

“What was Santa Prisca?” Duke asked, looking between his guardian, who was leaving, and the man in the bed.

Before either could answer, however, a bright blur of orange light burst into the room.

Wally

What most forget, is that for speedsters, things aren’t moving fast. It’s all going slow. Every moment is longer. The good and the bad. It’s a blessing and a curse.

Wally didn’t know he was on the Wayne contact list. I mean, he knew he was in the Bat database, he was a code in their comms, and like every member of any team Batman had a hand in, he had a file on him and the way that he could defeat him if needed. But he didn’t know that Wally West was on the Wayne contact list. That was new. Dick had his phone number- obviously, that would be insane- and Jason had it, at least in his Robin days, but not Bruce Wayne, King of Gotham. Equally exciting and unnerving.

The call came while he was getting coffee. Dick likes to make fun of him for drinking it since his body processes it too fast to even feel it, but he likes the ritual. It’s a fun normal person thing to do, and Wally is a big fan of fun normal person things that make his life seem at least slightly regular. Being a superhero was and remains one of the best things that ever happened to him, but it’s not without it’s challenges. In ten years with the cowl, he learned the hard way that best thing a super can do is find a balance. So he goes for coffee in the morning.

Dick wasn’t back yet. That was normal for a mission that started after midnight. Dick might even sleep over at the manor, something he’d been testing out after longer nights in his home city. So Wally didn’t think much of it when he saw woke up to an empty place next to him in bed. He shot him a quick text, just to check in, but also knew his boyfriend might already be sleeping off the night. Dick Grayson was incredible at many things, but texting when he got home safe was not one of them. Wally chalked it up to being raised by someone who made it his business to know where everyone was at all times - there was never any need.

Wally was up and out of bed by seven and strolling to the cafe by 7:30, beating the morning rush. If sixteen year-old Wally saw him now, awake before ten, he’d think he’d been possessed. But at twenty-six, he liked to get as much in as he could on his days off. That, and now he knew catching up on sleep wasn’t real, no matter how much Dick wanted it to be.

Wally was in his usual spot, by the window, when he got the call. It wasn’t a number he recognized, but the area code made his stomach drop. He picked up before the second ring.

It was a kid’s voice on the other end. Duke Thomas, the most recent edition to the Bat brigade. To his credit, he was quick. To the point.

Dick was hurt.

The world faded away. Wally felt like his hear had been ripped from his chest. He steadied a hand on the table, holding it like it was the only thing keeping him on this plane. Duke kept talking, saying something about the Riddler’s hideout and a file and flooding, but he wasn’t listening. Dick was hurt.

Six months into dating Dick Grayson, he was invited to a dinner a Clark and Lois’s with Dick and Conner. Apparently, Dick had been arranging these meals for years, facilitating the Kryptonian sort-of-father-and-sort-of-son duo conciliation. After a generally pleasant, if not occasionally awkward meal, Wally found himself clearing the table with Lois Lane. She asked how things were going, how he was feeling and all of the nice things to say. And then she said something else. She warned him.

I know you suit up, so you may think that you understand… but trust me, being on this side is different. This is hard, Wally.

He didn’t understand until a few weeks later, when Dick called him from the Batcave while getting stitches in his shoulder. Being a hero and dating one was entirely different. Wally didn’t realize that at first. He only thought of how it would make things easier. Dick understood his crazy schedule, he lived and breathed the late nights and double life. But understanding the risk, the obligation, is a lot different than living with the consequences. Dick is good, he’s better than good, maybe the best of them, but he’s still human. He gets tired and makes mistakes and gets hurt.

Wally’s hand shook as he hung up the phone.

They were at Wayne Hospital. He could get there in just a few minutes.

What most forget, is that for speedsters, things aren’t moving fast. It’s all going slow. Every moment is longer. The good and the bad. nd he felt every extra second and he ran to Gotham. He didn’t even bother to change, that was an issue for the Justice League at a later date. He just needed to get there. He needed to be fast enough.

Dr. Thompkins gave him the room number. She wasn’t supposed to, he wasn’t on any form, wasn’t family in the way that mattered with stuff, but gave it to him anyways. She was good like that.

Wally sprinted up the steps and up to the room. Bruce was in the hall on the phone, which he registered, vaguely, as he zoomed past. He couldn’t see anything else, couldn’t feel anything else until he saw him. He needed to see him.

Eleven minutes and thirty seconds after receiving the call, there he was. It wasn’t his best time, but his converse weren’t exactly built for super speeds.

“Dick!” Wally yelled, startling both his boyfriend and Duke. He threw his hands around his boyfriend, cradling the back of his head. “Oh my god. Oh my god. How are you? Are you okay? Oh my-”

“Slower, Walls.” Dick chuckled. He pushed him back, squeezing his shoulder. “I can’t understand you.”

Wally took a deep breath. That didn’t happen as often anymore, the super-speed-talking. Really only when he was nervous. Wally took in his boyfriend. He was propped up in bed. His knee was twice the size and he was covered in bandages. A wave of frustration rushed over Wally at first. He had been fine yesterday. Completely fine. Up and walking and healthy. It wasn’t fair.

“What happened, D?” Wally asked, brows pinched together. “Are you okay? Let me see.” He reached out to touch a fresh bandage on his head, but was gently guided away.

“I got a little tossed around.” Dick explained, moving Wally’s hand from his forehead. “I’ll be okay. I’m sorry they called you.”

“Sorry? Are you kidding? They definitely should’ve called me.” Wally scoffed. He turned to the teenager. “Hey Duke?”

“Mhm?” He said, looking up from his phone.

“Excellent work.” Wally gave him a thumbs up.

“Thanks?” Duke shrugged.

“I just didn’t want you to freak out and do something like run to Gotham in sneakers.” Dick sighed, wrapping Wally’s hand in his. “It’s really okay.”

“Is it, though?” Duke pipped up. Wally whipped back around, eyebrows raised. Dick stiffened. “You seemed to know that already. Bruce does too.” The room was still. Wally could almost hear his heart beating, four miles a minute. Duke sat up in his chair. “What do you guys think is happening?”

“I still need to be taken to the MRI.” Dick cautioned. Wally’s face dropped.

“But?”

Wally gave Dick a warning look. He slouched back on his pillows, rubbing a tired hand over his face. Whatever was happening, he was really, really trying to ignore.

“I broke my knee, we know that. But I think I tore my ACL too.” Dick said, through closed eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal, but it’s not great since I’ve done it before.”

“When?” Wally asked, wracking his brain for this memory- he came up short.

“Once a few years ago and once when I was nine.”

“Nine?” Duke gawked.

“Gymnastics is hard on the joints.” Dick ran a hand through his hair, sitting up. “But since it’s the third time, Bruce thinks I’ll need surgery.”

“You still need to be taken to get an MRI.” A voice sounded, suddenly, behind them.

“Jesus.” Wally winced. He’d never get used to the way Bruce could sneak up on people - in and out of the cowl.

“I’ve made some calls.” The Dark Knight continued, ignoring Wally’s small heart attack. “Your records are getting sent over.”

“Thanks, B.” Dick said, earnestly.

“Duke.” Bruce called. The teen stood and started for the door, waving a small goodbye. “We’ll be back in a bit.”

Wally turned back to his boyfriend. With the others gone, it seemed Dick had started to deflate. His eyes were fixed on the window, out onto the city he grew up in, just starting to wake up. Wally brought Duke’s chair closer to the bed, and wrapped his hand firmly around his boyfriend’s.

There were a dozen questions he wanted to ask. In so many ways, he knew everything about Dick Grayson. He’d known him for ten years. They understood each other in a way no one else could. But there were still times that he felt like he was still getting to know him. Still unraveling the layers of his boyfriend that he kept hidden. The pieces that were less nice, the stories less pretty. This felt like one of them. 

“Are you in a lot of pain?” Wally asked, first.

“No.”

“Okay.” Wally sighed. He was trying to fight back the pinpricks forming in his eyes, but it was getting harder.

“I’m really fine.” Dick said, trying to reassure him. “I’m more frustrated because I’m going to be out of the field for a while.”

“That’s what you’re mad about?” Wally gawked, wiping a tear from his eye.

“You look nice.” Dick said, his voiced almost sickly sweet. “Have I told you that? You look very nice.”

“You think?” Wally said, laughing lightly. He rubbed Dick’s hand with his thumb. “You know my boyfriend thinks I need to get more nice shirts.”

“You’re so gorgeous and you ruin it with those stupid neon green running shirts.” Dick groaned, slouching back on his pillows.

“Hey, they sponsored me, okay?” Wally said, putting a hand up in mock-defense. “They were free.”

“That is no excuse.” Dick shook his head.

“Fine. I’ll buy another button-up.” Wally conceded, kissing his hand. “But only because you’re in the hospital.”

“Oh,” Dick said, letting out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want to be in the hospital.” He lamented. 

Wally sighed. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, mulling the questions still swirling in his brain.

“How long? Do you think?” He asked, quietly. The air in the room had shifted on a dime. It felt still again. Cold. Lonely.

“Just a few days.” Dick sighed. He was staring straight up at the ceiling. “But then I’ll be off my feet for a few weeks.”

“What…” Wally focused on their hands as he spoke, at the bandage that covered half of Dick’s left palm. “What happened the other times?”

“They weren’t as bad.” Dick prefaced, turning back to the window. “The first was in my first year as Robin. We were in Santa Prisca for the first time. I landed wrong and that was all it took.” He fidgeted with his sheet, twisting it between his fingers. “I’d been overexerting myself. It sucked, but I just had to heal at home.”

“And the last time?” Wally asked.

The time since they’d been friends. The time when he knew him. The time that had formed a pit in his stomach since he learned about it, moments ago.

“The same.” Dick started, vaguely. “It was just a bad landing. It was uh…” Dick hesitated. He clenched and unclenched his jaw. “It was right after Jay died.”

Oh. Wally realized. It explained everything, in a way. Dick wasn’t himself after Jay died. It was like he’d died with him, and something had come out in his place. Something angry. Something self destructive. Something Wally didn’t know.

“I didn’t tell anyone.” Dick continued, as if he read his mind. “I had such tunnel vision I didn’t even realize it at first. I didn’t really rest, either.” He continued. Wally’s grip on his hand tightened. “So that’s probably why it tore so easily this time.”

“Have you been in pain? Since, I mean.” Wally asked, doing the mental math. No recovery didn’t bode well.

“Not a lot.” Dick mused.

“Not a lot?” Wally sputtered, just a little too loud for a hospital room. But he didn’t care. "It's been years." 

“Wally, I’m a vigilante.” Dick said, matter-o-factly. For the one in the hospital bed, he was holding an even tone. “I throw myself at things all the time, and I have for sixteen years. I don’t have super healing, it takes a toll.”

“And we’re not taking this as a sign to maybe take a step back?” Wally said, before he could stop himself.

“I’m going to pretend that you were joking.” Dick said, dryly.

Wally frowned. He was trying to picture the kind of pain Dick was talking about. The kind that lingered. He had been hurt before, badly, but it always faded. It all went away, eventually. Even the burning in his feet from the run over here, was starting to fade. None of it stuck around.

“Wally, come on.” Dick said, sweetly, opening his arms. “Just come here, baby.”

Carefully, Wally joined Dick on the bed. It was small, and his leg was taking up about forty percent of the surface area, but they made it work. Wally tucked against Dick’s shoulder.

“I don’t want you to be in pain.” Wally whispered, after a while.

“Would it help if I told you that you make it better?” Dick murmured.

“Maybe.” Wally said, somewhat unconvinced.

“Well it’s true.”

“I’m finding you a PT office in Bludhaven.” Wally announced.

“I’ll need to go for the leg anyways.”

“You’re going to after it’s healed too.” Wally decided. “Weekly.”

“Bimonthly.”

“Dick.” Wally warned.

“Fine, fine.” Dick conceded, laughing lightly. “So…Duke said I’m different with you.”

“What kind of different?” He asked, cautiously.

“Good different.” Dick said, simply.

“Oh.” Wally uttered. A sappy smile crept across his face. “That’s nice.”

“Yeah.”

Wally held him closer, wrapping his arm across his chest.

“I’m good different with you too.”