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The dust had settled nearly an hour ago, the ash from the explosion coating the broken pieces of concrete foundation and twisted hunks of metal piping. The air still had a particularly strong fiery smell to it and if one were to focus on the scent for too long they may be able to isolate the overwhelming odor of burnt skin.
Flashing red lights illuminated the way for Amy Rohrbach as glass crunched under the heavy soles of her work boots, though she could barely hear the sound over the beating of her own heart in her chest. The sirens from the nearby ambulances, fire engines, and police cruisers had been turned off by this point.
There was no more emergency.
They weren’t looking for people to rush off to safety anymore.
They were looking for bodies.
“Unit 417, 10-42, repeat: unit 417, 10-42.”
Amy’s hand hovered over the radio attached to her shirt for just a moment, her eyes watering from the smoke and ash still lingering in the air.
“Dispatch, I need another ten-”
Her voice caught in her throat as the light from one of the various crime scene spotlights reflected off of a small, metallic object buried under a few broken pieces of foundation. Amy was surprised the light had anything to catch in the first place, considering the item was caked in grey dust and the remains of the toppled high-rise.
“Unit 417, 10-9.”
Amy leaned down carefully, the world around her seeming to move almost in slow motion as her fingers wrapped around the warm metal, the dust rubbing off so that she could read the engravings.
“Oh, God.”
“Unit 417, please respond.”
Tears were beginning to blur her vision, one making its way down her cheek and landing perfecting on the Blüdhaven Police Department badge, the number imprinted on it one she instantly recognized.
“Goddamn it, Rookie. Goddamn it!”
She would never forget this badge. She was the one who pinned it on his uniform, the one who shook his hand and saluted him, the one who reluctantly returned the goofy smile he gave her.
The one that promised to look after him.
“Dispatch,” Amy took a shaky breath, willing herself not to sob over the radio. “10-00, officer down. Repeat, 10-00 officer down.”
“10-4, what’s the unit number?”
Amy closed her eyes, her fingers gripping the badge so tightly that the sharp edges began to dig painfully into her skin.
“Unit 665. Officer Richard Grayson.”
Dick couldn’t move.
That was the first realization and it was pretty difficult for him to focus on anything else, which was completely understandable, given the situation. A small voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Batman gruffly told him to analyze the situation, which he eventually obeyed. He had to admit, it was quite the distraction.
Dick couldn’t see much. The only light seemed to be artificial and shined through various-sized cracks above him. If he was a gambling man (and who was to say he wasn’t) he’d bet he was underground. The smell of dirt was a dead giveaway, but the distinct addition of what could only be described as Blüdhaven was somewhat comforting, as insane as that was. It meant he wasn’t far from home and considering how much uncertainty lied in his current situation, it was nice for just one thing to be familiar.
His body was pinned under something heavy and unmovable, which explained why he couldn’t will himself to move even an inch. He tried to test his mobility by wiggling just his left foot but instantly regretted it as sharp pain shot up his leg and into his body.
“Ah!”
Dick blinked past what he hoped was sweat and not tears and he forced his mind to focus. He was having trouble remembering what had happened, how he’d ended up wherever the hell it was he happened to be. His head was pounding and it was making it very difficult to stay focused.
He had to remember that he could still feel pain throughout his whole body, which was a good thing, even if it didn’t feel that way. Pain meant his nerve endings were working, which made his chances of getting out of this with working limbs higher.
He’d take what he could get.
“Hello? Anybody-”
Dick coughed violently, the taste of ash reaching his tongue the minute he opened his mouth, his chest burning from the effort. He turned his head slightly to the side and spat, praying that the taste of blood in the back of his throat was all in his head.
He probably wasn’t that lucky, knowing his track record.
The last thing he remembered… What was it?
He'd been on patrol. The Officer Grayson kind, not the Nightwing type. That was an important distinction and he tried his best to commit it to memory.
There had been a bomb threat. He'd been one of the closest units and he remembered radioing dispatch that he'd check it out.
And then…
Nothing but pain.
Dick forced his brain to work almost like a computer, allowing it to file all the information he had into an easily digestible report, just like Bruce had taught him.
He was a civilian. He was trapped under a destroyed building. His body was pinned and most likely losing more blood than it should be. His entire body ached but what hurt most was his left leg and his head.
Probable concussion, perhaps a broken leg. Maybe even some ribs, judging by his breathing.
He had to stay awake, then, at least long enough for the paramedics to find him.
He'd been against worst odds before.
He could do this.
Amy knew she had to be the one to tell his family. The chief had offered and while she'd wanted nothing more than to take him up on the offer, she knew she couldn't.
She owed it to Dick. To his brothers.
She had to be the one.
It took far too long for her to bring herself to knock on the intimidating front door of Wayne Manor. The ride to Gotham hasn't been nearly long enough for her either. It was all a blur, she hardly remembered it. It was as if her car had been on autopilot despite the fact she'd only been to the manor a handful of times before.
Before Amy could force the fist that hovered a few inches away from the door to finally knock, it swung open to reveal Alfred, the family’s butler. Amy had a suspicious feeling that he had been waiting for her to finally find the courage to announce herself and had gotten tired of standing near the door in anticipation. Maybe he already knew. Maybe this trip had been for nothing.
Maybe she shouldn’t have come at all.
“Detective Rohrbach. To what do we owe the pleasure at this time of night?”
Amy wanted to point out that Alfred was still dressed neatly in his tailcoat and tie and looked wide awake considering it was nearly two in the morning, but she supposed that conversation would only distract from her true mission.
“Mr. Pennyworth,” Amy started, forcing her voice to remain steady despite the fact that tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. “May I… May I come in?”
“But of course.”
Alfred stepped aside and allowed Amy to enter into the foyer, closing the door and locking it behind them. Amy pretended like she didn’t notice how many locks the manor door had. He began to lead her towards the sitting room she recognized from the other times she had been to the manor, for parties Dick had invited her and her family to during the holidays. It was lacking in people and festivities this time around, though.
“Would you care for some tea?”
Amy took a shaky breath. She hoped Alfred didn’t notice.
“No, thank you. I actually… Is Mr. Wayne awake? There’s… I need to speak with him.”
Alfred paused and turned to look at Amy. His steady gaze made her want to burst into tears, which was odd considering she was usually much more composed. There was something about the old butler that made her want to drop all her defenses.
“It’s Master Richard, isn’t it? Something has happened.”
Amy felt herself sink into the nearest chair. Her hands immediately raised to her head, her fingers running through her hair that had long since fallen down to her shoulders. Once her hands had run their course they folded behind her neck, her head bowed.
Alfred seemed to understand, though. That was one of the good things about him, Amy realized.
He didn’t need words to confirm.
She wasn’t quite sure how he did it.
Perhaps she’d never know.
It was becoming hard to breathe.
Dick wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He wasn’t even sure if he’d been conscious the entire time, which was a worrying thought.
Not for the first time since the building had exploded, he wished he wasn’t the only member of his family who patrolled in Blüdhaven. Usually he liked having the city to himself as Nightwing, but what he wouldn’t give for a bat or bird to stumble across him and bring him back to the safety and comfort of the Cave.
He blinked some of the dust out of his eyes, his gaze staring at the same spot it had been for quite some time. The intensity of the lights above him hadn’t changed; they still shone artificially, telling Dick that it was spotlights rather than natural sunlight that was illuminating the world above.
Maybe first responders were still on the scene. Maybe they hadn’t left yet, if they still had their lights set up.
“Hey…”
Dick’s voice was hoarse and gravely, as if he’d been gargling rocks and pebbles in his mouth for a few hours. He supposed that wasn’t too far from the truth.
He attempted to clear his throat but all that seemed to bring him was more pain in his forehead. What had since calmed down to a dull ache now seemed to be sharp and constant against his temples, which was less than appreciated.
The distinct sound of distant radio chatter filtered down to the crevice Dick was pinned in and his heart began to beat faster at the possibility of someone being near enough to hear him.
“Help-”
Dick coughed, his chest throbbing from the effort. Tears rolled down his cheeks from the pain clearing the dust, dirt, and ash off of parts of his skin in long, skinny streaks.
The radio feedback was beginning to sound more distant and Dick did his best to bury a sob deep within him that threatened to escape. This might be his only chance, he couldn’t waste it.
“Please… help!”
Dick closed his eyes tightly, the pain so overwhelming it threatened to force him into a state of unconsciousness, which was the very last thing he wanted or needed.
“Dispatch, looks like we’ve cleared all survivors.”
The voice was soft but Dick could still hear the words. They were going to leave him. They thought everyone had been recovered. They had no idea Dick was still buried.
“I’m still here… help… please…”
Black dots littered Dick’s field of vision and he knew he only had a few more precious moments of alertness before his body finally succumbed to the pain. He tried to wiggle one of his hands out from underneath some of the loose rocks and building materials. It took a few pulls and Dick nearly screamed in agony once he finally recovered his hands, pretending not to notice the stickiness of the blood that coated his far too pale skin.
Dick began to smack his open palm against the large slab of concrete that was positioned over his body, his elbow not having to extend too far considering the slab was only a couple of inches away from his nose. His hand barely made any nose but his brain was in emergency mode, desperate for any relief no matter what. He could feel the coarseness of the concrete cut into the skin on his palm but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he used every last ounce of air in his lungs to scream.
“Please! Help! I’m still here! Please!”
“Copy, Engine 51, 10-42.”
“No!” Dick sobbed, his tears falling freely and by the gallon now as he continued to beat fruitlessly on the concrete, desperate for rescue, for aid, for anything that would relieve him of his current situation.
“Please…” Dick’s voice was even more hoarse now, so faint that his own ears could barely hear it. The adrenaline that had been running rampant through his body seemed to dissipate and he was once again met with pain radiating from every corner of his body.
“Please…” he repeated, his eyelids becoming more and more heavy as his hand fell to his chest. “I’m still here…”
Dick’s breathing became raspy and shallow once again and he finally allowed his eyes to close, no longer able to fight off his body’s wishes and needs, his last thought a simple hope that perhaps eventually, his family would find out what had become of him.
Tim couldn’t believe it.
Hell, maybe he just didn’t want to believe it.
They all dealt with the news in their own ways, once Amy had left. It was predictable, the way each of them reacted to bad news. Like clockwork.
Bruce had immediately canceled patrol for the rest of the night. Jason hadn’t agreed with that sentiment. The way he’d seen it, Bruce was giving up. That was a sore subject for Jason, of course, and it had all escalated into a fight that Tim was surprised didn’t involve physical violence.
Jason hadn’t waited around afterwards. Tim hadn’t expected him to. Jason liked to pretend that he was an enigma, that he was aloof and mysterious, that no one ever knew what his next step would be or how he’d deal with everything, but that was all bullshit. Tim had figured that one out on day one.
No, he was off on his own, either to drink until he was able to pick up the phone and call Roy or halfway to Blüdhaven to start doing exactly what Bruce planned not to do. He was emotional, they all were in one way or another, but Jason wore his heart on his sleeve whether he liked it or not. He could pretend all he wanted that this didn’t affect him as deeply as the rest of them, but none of them believed it for a minute, least of all Tim.
Damian had been told to go to bed nearly a dozen times. Each time presented the same response, which was nothing but a scoff that only Dick had the knowledge to decode. Tim had his own theories on what each sound meant, had the bare bones of a translation at his disposal, but no one could read the kid quite like Dick. No one ever would, probably.
The bond between a Batman and his Robin was funny that way.
Alfred was still in the cave, his eyes narrowed as he watched Bruce’s shoulders tense more and more, his cowl still hiding his face as he leaned over the Batcomputer, doing what Tim had no idea. Oracle was doing her own search from the Belfry, against Bruce’s orders, but they hadn’t heard anything promising yet from her end.
The Blüdhaven Police Department badge sat innocently next to the keyboard by Bruce’s gloved hands, still dirty and smudged.
Tim, for a moment, thought about a bloodied Robin suit in a glass case and his heart ached oddly in his chest.
Perhaps Jason had seen the exact same thing.
“He’s not dead,” Tim said to himself, as if saying it out loud would make it so. “He can’t be.”
If anyone else in the cave heard him, they didn’t show.
“We should be out there looking, like Todd is.”
Tim turned to look at Damian, the boy’s green eyes slightly glassy as he refused to meet Tim’s gaze.
They weren’t close, not in the sense that they were with their other siblings. In their defense, they’d started off on rocky terms and it was only uphill from there, but the journey was anything but easy. No, they didn’t argue nearly as much or look at each other like they wanted to maim on sight anymore, but Tim couldn’t help but still feel awkward and under-prepared when it came to conversing with the younger boy one on one.
“Bruce said-”
“I know what Father said,” Damian interrupted, which he had a habit of doing. “He wants to give up on Richard. I refuse.”
Tim had half a sense to agree with the kid, even if it would have pained him slightly to do so. He couldn’t help but feel that despite being told how intelligent and bright he was all the time, when it really came down to it, when it really mattered, he was useless.
“There’s a lot of-”
“They did not even recover a body.”
Tim felt a headache begin to creep behind his eyes and he wondered if this is how Dick felt every time he put on the Batman suit.
“As I was saying, there’s a lot of debris. Detective Rohrbach-”
“He could be hurt. He could need help and we’re here, doing nothing.”
Tim reached out his hand towards Damian, though he wasn’t too sure what his intentions were. Comfort? Damian wasn’t usually one to accept it, especially from anyone but Dick, and Tim wasn’t Dick.
Because Dick wouldn’t be sitting in the Batcave, accepting the unacceptable. He wouldn’t be waiting for Batman to tell him what the next steps were. He wouldn’t take death as a final answer. He wouldn’t believe what he was told at face value.
“Why aren’t you doing anything?”
Damian’s focus wasn’t on Tim anymore; he was looking intently at Bruce with nothing but rage behind his eyes. Tim allowed his hand to drop as he watched Damian practically stomp over towards where Bruce was seated, Alfred watching the outburst warily from the sidelines.
“Damian, go to bed.”
“No, I refuse! Richard is not dead but he could be due to our lack of action!”
“Master Damian-”
Tim knew nothing, not even Alfred, could put a stop to the storm that was Damian at that moment. He didn’t even entertain the thought of trying himself, electing instead to watch silently.
“You have given up on him! You won’t even attempt to locate him! Have you such little faith?”
Tim held his breath as he waited for Bruce’s response. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was expecting. Bruce had a peculiar way of responding to each of his sons’ anger.
“Go to bed, Damian.”
He sounded… tired. Tim had expected rage to linger between each word, had expected anger to contort his features. He’d expected a similar shouting match to the one he and Jason had engaged in.
Tim hadn’t expected the absolute resignation on Bruce’s face.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen that.
“If you will not look for Richard, then Drake and I will. You may have given up on him, but a Robin never gives up on his Batman.”
Damian turned, pausing for just a moment to look back at Bruce, the man’s eyes still looking at the computer screen. He looked so much older in that moment, much older than Tim had ever seen him.
“And a Batman should not abandon his Robin.”
Tim didn’t miss the flinch in Bruce’s body.
He was certain Damian didn’t either.
Dick wondered if his family knew where he was.
He wondered if they were still on patrol for the night, oblivious to the situation he was currently in.
He wasn’t sure what time it was. Maybe they had finally returned to the Cave. Maybe they were in the middle of debriefing before finally retiring to bed for a few measly hours of sleep.
Dick could practically hear Bruce’s gruff voice as he told them good job and watched them climb the steps up to the manor, knowing he would remain in the Cave alone hours after everyone else had finally fallen asleep.
More than anything, Dick wanted to be there now.
He’d give anything to see his brothers, to ruffle Damian’s hair, to tell Tim to get some sleep, to stay up until Jason texted him that he had made it back safely to his apartment.
To tell Bruce not to work too hard despite knowing his request would never be fulfilled.
But perhaps he'd never get to do any of those things ever again and that simple thought was the catalyst for more years to pour down his dirty face. He knew he needed to conserve the water in his body, that crying was actively harming him, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to care all that much in the moment.
Dick blinked past the tears and realized that the lights above him had disappeared, allowing him to see the smoggy, light polluted sky that he was all too familiar with.
He wished, not for the first time, that he could see the stars in the city.
Dick was suddenly overwhelmed by a distant memory of a time long ago, of a boy and his parents laying in the grass by the red and white striped tents, watching the stars with wonder.
His father used to tell him the names of the constellations and his mother would make up stories for each, smiling knowingly at his father when he tried to correct her. Dick remembered being comforted by the fact that no matter where he was in the world the stars and moon were always above him, even if they looked a bit different sometimes.
Dick closed his eyes and wondered if he'd ever see the stars again.
For once in his life, Jason was glad Bruce chipped them all like dogs with tendencies to wander.
Their suits all had a myriad of trackers, of course, but that didn't help much considering that the Nightwing suit was in Dick's closet.
That's where the tracker in their arms came in handy. It wasn't nearly as advanced as the ones in the suits, but Oracle was able to get enough of a reading to know that Dick hadn't moved in quite a few hours.
The location stayed steady at the scene of the explosion, where Dick had been reported to at approximately 01:00. It was currently 04:37 and all the emergency responders had since packed up and left the scene, only footprints and yellow police tape left to acknowledge they had been there at all. They'd left in a hurry, which meant they probably weren't too hopeful about finding any more survivors, which wasn't a good sign, but Jason had had worst odds stacked against him before.
Barbara had told him not to get his hopes up. That if Dick was alive he was probably severely injured. Jason knew she meant well, that she was just being a realist, but he couldn't help his annoyment. Between her and Bruce holding up in the Batcave for the rest of the night, it seemed as if everyone else had given up on Dick.
Well, besides the other two brats, who had followed him all the way to Blüdhaven. He'd expected it from Damian, ever loyal when it came to Dick, but Tim was a bit of a surprise for him.
“Daddy Bats let you out, I see,” Jason said, his helmet concealing any emotion that could threaten to appear on his face. He adjusted the grip he had on the fully stocked first aid kit he’d stolen from the Cave before departing. “You're usually the type to wait for him to make a big, beautiful plan, after all, not to go rouge with the problem child.”
Tim looked slightly hurt at Jason's words, and a bit guilty, though Jason chose not to read too much into that. He had more pressing matters, after all.
“It seems B and I have differing views on how the search should go,” Tim answered.
“What, you want to look and he wants to sit on his ass? Is that it?”
“He's dealing in the only way he knows how,” Tim replied, a bit defensively.
“If his choice is to do nothing then I refuse to follow,” Damian interrupted, obviously tired of the conversation and eager to begin searching.
“The more the merrier,” Jason relented. “Oracle, are you patched into the network?”
“ When aren't I?” Barbara's voice rang out from their ear pieces . “The tracker isn't the greatest, it can only give us an area within about a quarter mile radius. Heat signatures are gonna be hard to go off of as well, the scene is still cooling down. That explosion was pretty hot. Do your best, guys.”
“Thanks, O,” Jason said before turning back to his brothers. “Let's split up, we'll cover more ground. Use the thermal imaging on your masks to try and find hot spots, preferably ones human shaped.”
Damian made one of his typical sounds of annoyment, his hands planted firmly on his hips.
“Thank you for the obvious, Red Hood. If you'd excuse me.”
Tim and Jason watched as Damian claimed his own area of the scene. They exchanged a silent look before going off on their own, Jason taking the left and Tim taking the right.
“Officer Grayson!” Jason called, his eyes scanning an area that had a rather large heat signature. Despite the fact that no one was around, he tried his best to keep up appearances. It was weird enough that three of the Bats were in Blüdhaven without Nightwing to escort them, he didn't need anyone overheating him calling for Dick like he knew him.
It didn’t seem like the others got the memo, however, because Jason could hear Tim screaming “Dick!” and Damian shouting “Richard!” from either side of him.
The heat signatures showing up in the whites of his lenses weren’t too promising, much to Jason’s irritation. What was the point of all this state-of-the-art tech if it didn’t do its damn job?
“Dick!” Jason yelled, deciding to forgo the act. His worry over Dick’s condition was reigning supreme over any and all of Bruce’s arbitrary rules and regulations.
He walked closer to a portion of the building with two large concrete slabs that seemed to have collapsed upon each other, evidently creating a sort of inverted triangle. The heat signature under the material was a bit colder than the surrounding areas and he couldn’t help but also think that perhaps, if the slabs had fallen in just the right way, there was the possibility that the area beneath them left just enough room for a human body.
Jason squinted his eyes at the rubble, a strange feeling overwhelming him, almost like something was pulling him towards the area. In a world full of magic and superpowered beings Jason didn’t often put much merit into things like premonition or sixth sense, but he wasn’t sure what else to call it. Excellent observation skills? Brotherly instinct? Perhaps a bit of both?
“Dick?” Jason called out as he walked closer to the two slabs, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.
There was no response. Jason opened his mouth to shout Dick’s name once more, this time louder, but before he could Barbara’s voice rang through his comms.
“Hood, he’s there! Bruce got the trackers updated finally and we were able to pinpoint a more precise location! He’s under those slabs!”
Jason didn’t need to be told twice. Quickly, he set the first aid kit aside within arm’s reach, a sinking feeling in his stomach telling him that he would most likely have to use it soon. He positioned his body by one of the slabs and began to push against it, straining from the effort it took. The other slab began to shift downward as Jason moved and he was suddenly worried that it would come crashing down on Dick if he wasn’t careful.
“Robin, Red, get over here now!”
Jason could probably move one slab by himself, but he wasn’t sure if Tim and Damian’s combined efforts could move the other. They didn’t have a choice, though. They had to try.
“We heard Oracle over the comms!” Tim shouted as Damian and he ran over to Jason, worry etched into each of their features.
“Help push that side up so it doesn’t slip down,” Jason requested, grunting slightly as he pushed his shoulder against the slab he was holding in place.
Tim and Damian reacted immediately, trying their best to leverage the concrete slab with their bodies, but it was obviously not helping much. They weren’t built for strength like Jason was.
“Shit!” Jason cursed. “See if there’s anything you can use to help!”
“Like what?” Damian asked incredulously, obviously impatient to get to Dick. He was getting overwhelmed, which was the last thing anybody needed at that moment.
“Look around you, there’s shit everywhere!”
Damain looked like he was ready to argue with Jason and Tim had already assumed the peacekeeper position, a stern yet exasperated look on his face that he had to have picked up from Dick. However, the fight never broke out as the sound of the Batmobile roaring towards them made them momentarily forget that they were ever at odds.
Bruce came barrelling out, his cape whipping behind him as, without a word, he began to help Damian and Tim with their concrete slab. With the added strength they were finally able to push on the sides enough to cause the slabs to stand up straight. Jason and Bruce carefully maneuvered them so that they fell safely out of the way.
“Dick?”
Covered in ash, dust, and various pieces of debris was indeed Dick, his eyes closed tightly and his breathing shallow. There was a large gash on his forehead that seemed to have stopped bleeding at some point, his jet black bangs stuck to the drying blood. There was some twisted metal pinning his left leg down in place and his hands were scrapped raw, as if he’d attempted to push his way out against the concrete trapping him in. His uniform was cut in various places and he had a few superficial cuts littering his body.
They moved quickly; Bruce and Jason carefully removed the metal that had trapped his leg, wincing at the blood that sluggishly leaked from the tear in his uniform pants. Tim and Damian dug into the first aid kit, a blood pressure cuff and oximeter waiting for when Jason and Bruce were finally able to move him up to solid ground. Dick didn’t react, besides a slight groan, which was better than nothing.
Damian attached a neck brace around Dick as Tim read his vital signs, a worried look on his face as they finally came through.
“BP is 60/40, pulse is 150, he’s definitely in shock.”
“What’s his temp?” Bruce asked.
Tim removed the thermometer from the bag and pointed it at Dick’s head. It took a few seconds to beep and he frowned at the result.
“95.6. Could be worse, he’s not hypothermic yet.”
“His leg is at the very least fractured,” Jason said, accepting the SAM splint and gauze roll from Damian so that he could hastily dress and stabilize his wound for the car ride back to the Cave.
Tim carefully opened Dick's eyes and shined a penlight into them. "Pupils are slow to react and dilated. Definitely has a concussion."
“Breathing is shallow, but there,” Damian noted, a stethoscope positioned over Dick’s lungs. “Ribs feel cracked, but not broken.”
“Hopefully that means we won’t have to trach,” Jason mumbled as he placed a non-rebreather mask over Dick’s face.
“I doubt it will come to that,” Bruce said sternly, brushing Dick’s bangs away from the gash on his head so that he could loosely place a few gauze pads. “Let’s get him to the cave, Alfred has the med bay prepped and ready.”
“Why didn’t you just tell us your plan?” Jason asked as he looped his arms under Dick’s armpits, Bruce taking his legs as they lifted together. “Why didn’t you just say you were trying to update the tracker in him so that it’d give us his location?”
“You didn’t ask,” Bruce said plainly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
If Dick wasn’t in such bad shape Jason might have taken a shot at the man. But he was too preoccupied to pick a fight at the moment, which was very adult of him, in his opinion.
They laid Dick in the backseat with Damian and Tim, who continued to monitor his condition. He was remaining stable and Jason knew they could make it back to Gotham in half the time it usually took due to low traffic and Bruce’s driving. He settled in the passenger seat and couldn’t help himself from checking the rear-view mirror every minute or so to keep an eye on his brothers.
He didn’t intend on letting them out of his sight.
When Dick finally woke up, he immediately realized that he was much more comfortable than he was when he had lost consciousness.
He couldn’t remember everything, just fuzzy bits and pieces and the vague memory of pain. His head ached slightly and his mouth was dry. When he tried to move his arms he realized there were a few IVs sticking out of him. There was a sticky feeling on his chest that was the tell-tale sign of a heart monitor and the room around him smelled of antiseptic.
So, it was either the hospital or the Cave’s medical bay. Either way, he was in good hands.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, Officer.”
Dick turned his head slightly, his eyes squinting against the light as he made out a Jason-shapped figure sitting in a chair next to his bed.
“Hey,” Dick mumbled, his throat raspy and desperate for water.
Jason leaned over, his eyes scanning over the screen that displayed his vital signs. What he saw must have been satisfactory, as he then moved on to checking the IV pumping Dick full of medication and O- blood.
“You scared the shit out of me,” Jason admitted, finally looking at Dick, his voice wavering slightly. If Dick hadn’t memorized his tones over the years, he might not have even caught the slip.
“I’m sorry,” Dick replied.
“Yeah, well don’t pull that shit again,” Jason quickly swiped under his eyes before the tears could even form. “I think you nearly gave the old man a heart attack. I think I even saw him express a singular emotion when he thought no one was looking.”
Dick smiled softly, his eyes feeling heavy from whatever pain killers they’d given him.
“You cracked a couple ribs and fractured your left tibia. You lost three liters of blood but we have you on a slow transfusion to make sure you don’t develop TACO on top of everything else. You had a concussion too, but Alfred thinks you should stop feeling it in a few days, especially with the drugs he and Leslie have you on. You’re gonna have to be benched for a few weeks to let everything heal, but all in all, it could’ve been a lot worse.”
It could’ve been worse. Truer words had never been spoken.
“Detective Rohrbach thought you were dead. She found your badge and assumed the worst. We called her, though. She said she’ll come visit once you’re up for it.”
He couldn’t help but feel guilty over that. He couldn’t imagine what Amy had gone through, what she had thought when she found his badge abandoned under the wreckage. Hell, he couldn’t imagine what his family had thought when they had heard the news, that he was possibly dead.
“I’m sorry,” Dick said again, though he wasn’t sure why. “I… I thought…”
Dick trailed off but Jason waited patiently for him to continue, his gaze unmovable.
“I thought I was too.”
Something shattered within Jason’s features and Dick reached for his hand, squeezing it as tightly as he could manage. Jason let out a wet sob, his head bowed slightly as he squeezed back, careful not to push against the IV needle.
“I’m glad I’m not, though. Thanks for not giving up on me.”
“Well,” Jason said softly, licking his lips slightly as he offered Dick a soft, gentle smile. “What are brothers for?”