Work Text:
The batmobile is speeding through the streets of Gotham. Bruce wishes he could tell they knew what they’re up against. The gang had been native to Blüdhaven, and after managing to capture the local vigilante, they apparently decided to kill two birds with one stone (he winces at how accurate the expression feels) and to attract Batman and Robin into a trap.
Bruce knows it is a trap. Not only because it’s obscenely obvious, but also because Nightwing warned him, yelling on the recording before the horrible noise of someone’s head being forcefully plunged under water. It made his blood boil. He knows Damian felt the same.
So, yeah. He knows this is a trap. He knows this is dangerous, he knows the people they’re up against are good enough to manage to capture Nightwing. But every second his son spends in these people crunches is a second too much.
Oracle had given them the location of the hideout in a record time, as usual. They can’t count on backup tonight. Batgirl and Black Bat are assisting the Birds of Prey for an important mission, Red Robin had enrolled the Signal and BlueBird for his own investigation on a serial killer. Red Hood’s location and activities are unknown, as usual, but he had answered he was busy when Batman asked. Maybe he would have made time if he knew who they were rescuing, but to be honest, Bruce doesn’t want to involve any more of his children in this case. Damian feels already too much but Damian had listened to the recording, and Bruce knows there is no way to keep him out of this. He’d learned the hard way that the best way to keep his Robins safe is to keep them close.
They finally reach the old building, and Batman is quick to give his orders. Robin would stay with him, all the time. They would act mostly in stealth and engage only after they located Nightwing. Surprisingly, getting into the building is fairly easy. There are no guards, and all the heat signatures are coming from a room downstairs. They make their way down and Bruce wishes, not for the first time, that Damian wasn’t with him. Not because he can’t trust Damian, the kid is a seasoned fighter already, but because, well… this group defeated Nightwing. They are good. And he doesn’t know in what state they will find the first Robin. He doesn’t need to use his detective skills to notice the pure love and admiration Damian had for his eldest brother. Seeing Nightwing seriously injured (or worse, but Bruce doesn’t want to think about the worse) will break his youngest.
Bruce shields Damian behind him when he enters the room. Batman extends his cape so Robin can’t see the inside and would be protected behind the bulletproof material. He looks around the room, preparing himself for anything, and what he sees…
… What he sees isn’t what he’s expecting. There is a bath filled with water and ice, several hitting weapons are on the ground. Also on the ground, there are dozens of men and women, all tied up. Sitting on a container, with his legs dangling, hair wet and bruises on his face, uniform torn and broken handcuffs hanging from his hand, is Nightwing.
He has the audacity to smile and wave when he sees them.
“Hi B, Robin. Thanks for coming saving me, I guess. You’re a little late, though.”
He slips from his perch, and Bruce watches for a wince or a stumble, only to find none. Bruce calls the police and informs Oracle of the development while Damian is scolding Dick for getting captured. It’s only when they get out of the building that he notices that Nightwing is shivering. Instinctively, like he’s still caring for a small Robin in shorts in the winter, he unclips his cape and hands it to his eldest.
A myriad of emotion passes on Dick’s face, visible despite the mask. Surprise, fondness, nostalgia, a hint of rebellion and then acceptance. He’s too cold or too tired to refuse the offer, and Bruce is gonna pretend it didn’t raise a spike of worry in heart.
“Give me a lift?” Nightwing asks as they reach the Batmobile, cape held tight around his shoulders, and Bruce sighs. It couldn’t be that simple. He clears his throat.
“Actually, I was thinking you could spend the night at the manor. Alfred is on holiday but there is spinach-salmon lasagna leftover if you want some.”
Dick seems to think about it. Bruce sends a subtle glance toward Damian, as if implying that the kid will be more comfortable with Dick next to him. Which isn’t wrong but also isn’t the whole reason Bruce wants Dick in the manor. It’s for his own comfort, as well as for his youngest. After a while, Dick sighs.
“Okay, but I have a class to give tomorrow morning. I need to be in Blüdhaven detention center at ten.”
Bruce sighs. Only Dick, he thinks, could be thinking about giving a gym class so soon after being abducted and tortured.
“Are you teaching sports to inmates?” Asks Damian from the backseat. “Aren’t you afraid they will use your techniques against you?”
Dick laughs, voice airy.
“I don’t think anyone ever tried to attack me using yoga, little D. I’m actually paid by the Wayne foundation to do that.”
Bruce raises his eyebrow. He knew the Wayne foundation is financing prison classes, but he didn’t know Dick’s center was a benefactor. Maybe he should look more into where all that money goes.
He’s distracted from his thought by a light cough on his right. When he turns his head, Dick waves him off.
“I’m fine. My throat is a little dry, that’s all.” And then when the staring doesn’t stop. “Come on, I escaped these guys, right? All on my own. Don’t give me that look.”
There is something annoyed in his voice, and Bruce fears if he keeps staring his eldest might jump out of the still moving batmobile just to prove a point, so he stops there. He still grunts to let his son know he’s not happy about the situation.
The examination Bruce conduct in the cave while Damian showers agrees with Dick. He’s mostly fine. He’s breathing well, the cut and bruises are superficial. He’s tired, and he will need a new suit, but overall, he was lucky. They were lucky.
He calls the rest of the team, glad that backup isn’t needed anywhere. He doesn’t know if he would have the energy for it. Technically, he barely fought tonight, the few mugging they stopped before they got the recording the only action of the night. But the stress and worry can exhaust someone as much as physical effort.
When he returns to the living room after changing, Damian is fast asleep on the couch. Dick is on a video call with Steph, the younger girl excitingly telling him about her mission with a plate of lasagna and a cup of hot chocolate in front of him. He’s also wearing an oversized black sweatshirt Bruce is almost certainly sure is his.
“You have clothes here.” Informs Bruce and Dick smiles.
“I know.”
Bruce smiles back.
“I’m going to bed. Call if you need anything.”
Dick asks Steph to wait and cuts the microphone. He turns toward Bruce.
“Hey, hum… I know you didn’t really do anything, but thank you, for coming to my rescue. It means a lot.”
Bruce nods. “Of course.” What did Dick thought? That he was just going to leave him to be tortured and go on with patrol?
He doesn’t really have time to elaborate on that because Dick puts back to sound to Steph, Cass and Barbara arguing about ice cream and immediately joins the conversation. Apparently the two youngest batgirls decided to spend the night in the clock tower with their predecessor.
Bruce let the sound in the background and wakes Damian up to get his youngest to bed.
Bruce shields Damian behind him when he enters the room. Batman extends his cape so Robin can’t see the inside and would be protected behind the bulletproof material. He looks around the room, preparing himself for anything, and what he sees…
… what he sees will be forever engraved in his brain. There are men around the room, but Bruce’s brain focuses on the black and blue figure slumped halfway inside the bath.
He runs, and it seems to take him forever to retrieve Dick. He starts CPR as soon as his son is on his back but deep down, he knows it’s already too late.
There is a distressed sound coming from his Robin and he should protect Damian. He should move, he should do something. But he can’t.
His son is dead.
The whole world crashes.
Bruce wants to cry, to yell, to punch someone. Instead he gaps.
He’s in his room in the manor. He blinks, getting away the last remnant of sleeps. He breathes, trying to remember that it was a nightmare. That Dick is safe, probably sleeping in his own room, surrounded by his childhood toys and the mountain of stuffed animals Bruce had bought every time his ward’s eyes stayed on them more than five second at the store.
A look on his bedside clock tells him he’s been asleep for longer than he expected. The manor is quiet. Bruce decides he can be quiet too and check on Dick without waking him. Then he will go see Damian. And maybe check the mission report from last night to make sure everyone is as alright as they said. Yes. Good idea.
His heart skips a beat when he reaches Dick’s room. Because the mountain of stuffed animals is there, on the bed, and so are the covers, but Dick isn’t.
The window is closed and he’s pretty sure Dick hadn’t run away. He mercifully outgrew that habit a long time ago. Nowadays, he more often finds kids in the manor when he didn’t know they were there than the opposite.
He forces himself not to panic. Maybe Dick had a nightmare and went for a walk, or in Damian’s room. Maybe he was still hungry and went to the kitchen for a snack.
Or maybe he was never here at all, and Bruce’s brain just made up an entire evening, unable to cope with the loss.
A noise from the bathroom distracts him. He feels stupid, suddenly. Jumping to conclusion when Dick was just in his bathroom. He also feels worried, because now there is coughing and gagging sounds from the bathroom and this is never a good thing.
He knocks on the door, all privacy forgotten when he doesn’t get a reply.
“I’m coming in.” He warns before entering.
Dick is slumped over his toilets, coughing loudly. He’s shivering and his shirt is saturated with sweat. Bruce is at his side in a blink, supporting him so he can sit up and hopefully breath more comfortably. It doesn’t work well.
“Dick? You’re burning up, chum.”
Dick lean into him. Closes his eyes and let a rogue tear fall. Let out a wet cough.
“I don’t feel well.”
Bruce figured that one out. How long had Dick be alone in his bathroom, hurting and confused?
“I know. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
Bruce has a pretty good idea of what’s wrong, but he needs to keep Dick talking long enough to formulate a plan of action.
“I don’t… B?”
He bends over again, coughing loudly. He’s losing track. This is not good, this is so not good, but before Bruce can let himself panic, there is another sound at the door.
“Father? What’s going on?”
Damian seems distressed, and it’s all Bruce can take. Batman takes over.
“Damian.” He practically orders, in the same way he would talk to Robin in the middle of a fight. The kid straightens his back and hardens his face instantly, all fear put away, awaiting orders.
What a good little soldier absently thinks Bruce, pretending his heart isn’t shattered in a million pieces every time Damian exhibits that kind of behavior. He doesn’t have time for that. His first instinct would be to call Leslie, but he knows for a fact that the clinic is having a busy night. It’s part of the things he checks every night. So he goes to the next option.
“Call 911.”
Two pairs of frighten eyes turn toward him, but his youngest recovers quickly, stepping back into the main bedroom. Like Bruce said. Good little soldier. Dick isn’t so quick.
“What…?”
He looks at Bruce with eyes full of fear, begging for an explanation. For his dad to make it all better.
Bruce can’t do that, he can’t fix things instantly, not when there isn’t any enemy to beat. And the men who hurt his son are already defeated, Nightwing taking care of them before Batman could raise a finger.
So, Bruce does what he can. He tangles his hand in Dick’s hairs. Kisses his forehead.
“I don’t know how bad it is, and I’m not taking any chances. We’ll figure out the rest later.”
Dick nods and makes no other sound than hacking cough and weak moans after that. Bruce is gonna pretend his heart isn’t shattering.
When the paramedics arrive, in what seems to be an eternity later but couldn’t be that long, Bruce answer the questions. Dick played a little roughly with the dog, he fell into the pound but was fine and got warmed up quickly. The lie is easy and believable, even if Damian probably wouldn’t appreciate Titus being blamed for his brother’s bruises and cut, considering he was the one who made sure the dog was trained not to bite nor hit with too much strength when playing.
One of the paramedics stops him when he goes to enter the ambulance.
“You can follow us to the hospital.”
Bruce feels the ground shift under his feet.
“He’s not… It’s not…?”
It’s not so bad he can’t ride with his son, right? The man seems to understand and smile sympathetically.
“It’s not that bad. It’s just… the two of you…” His eyes are on Damian.
“I can…” the kid starts to protest but Bruce cuts him with a look. He knows Damian can drive. The paramedics don’t. And to be honest, he doesn’t want to leave his youngest driving while emotionally compromised alone in Gotham at night. So, he nods to the paramedics and goes get a car.
The car ride to the hospital is silent. Damian is looking right ahead of him, toward the road. Bruce wants to say something should say something. But he doesn’t know what. Dick would have known what to say.
By the time they arrive at the hospital, Dick is still with the doctor, and they are left to wait in the uncomfortable chair. Thankfully, the waiting room isn’t too crowded, and Damian and he are the only ones in their corner. The last thing he needs is someone recognizing him and the paper writing something about a Wayne child yet again ending in a hospital.
Irrationally, he feels the need to call Tim. To make sure his second youngest is alright. The urge to make sure one or all his children are good after a close call isn’t uncommon. He doesn’t know why it’s Tim this time, but he knows it’s not rational. And he knows he won’t calm down until he’s sure the kid is fine.
His first call ends in voicemail. He forces himself not to panic. Calls again.
“Hello?” Says the sleepy voice of Duke Thomas and Bruce’s heart goes into overdrive.
“Duke? Where is Tim?”
The young man seems more aware in a fraction of second.
“In his room, why? What’s going on?” then, to someone else. “It’s Bruce.” And to Bruce again. “I’m putting you on speaker.”
“Bruce?” That’s Tim’s voice now, and something loosen inside Bruce. He knows it’s ridiculous, Tim gave him the all-clear last night, and so did everyone else. Even the Red Hood let him know he was fine and retiring for the night, an attention Jason isn’t always prone to give. “I’m getting my suit. Tell me the details.”
Bruce feels stupid.
“No, there is no need for a suit. Everything is fine.” Well, not really, but no need to worry Tim and Duke before they know what’s wrong with Dick.
He hears both of them stopping in their track. Tim sigh.
“Are you giving a social call at five in the morning?”
For his defense, Bruce didn’t know it was five in the morning. But that makes sense. Next to him, Damian is dosing off, not used to wake up so early and exhausted from his earlier worry.
“I am.” He answers. “Duke, what are you doing here?”
He doesn’t mean the question to be authoritative, but it comes out that way anyway.
“I…hum… We were working on a case and since we will continue tomorrow, we taught it would be easier if I spend the night on Tim’s couch. Harper went home to be with Cullen. It’s Saturday so…”
The kid is trying to justify himself and Bruce can’t help but feel bad about the situation. Obviously, Duke isn’t in any trouble for staying with Tim overnight. Bruce knows Duke is looking at him like a parental figure and he doesn’t know if he can handle it. How he can handle it. He knows he can be a parental figure, he’s been one long enough, but it’s different with each kid, and he’s still struggling. But he doesn’t have time to come up with an answer because someone is coming toward them.
“Ok, go back to sleep.” He just says before hanging up and gently rousting Damian awake.
The doctor signal them to follow her and they obligate. Once they’re in the relative privacy of the corridors, she starts speaking.
“Mister Wayne, have you ever heard of secondary drowning?”
Bruce feels the earth shift before his feet.
“I have but… this isn’t something that happens to adults.”
The doctor makes a sympathetic face.
“It is less likely than for children, but it can happen. Dick did very well, though. He’s awake and already reacting to the treatments. I would like to keep him under observation for the rest of the day, but if his breathing keeps on improving, he’ll be able to go home tonight.”
Bruce nods and thanks her before going into the room.
The sight of his children bedridden is easily on the top ten things he hates. (It’s not the one he hates the most though. The one he hates the most is the alternative.) He still tries to smile, and he’s not sure how successful he is but Dick smiles back behind the oxygen mask on his face and that’s enough. It had to be.
“Sorry I scared you.” Says his eldest, voice hoarse. Bruce wonder for a moment if his vocal cords are damaged or if his throat is just dry because of the mask.
Damian makes a petulant sound.
“I wasn’t scared.” He says and Bruce wonder if the kid is protesting out of principle or if he really thinks he’s fooling someone.
“Well, I was.” Says Dick, and Bruce can see it’s honest, and not only to cheer Damian up. “So, I want a hug.”
He opens his arms and Damian mumbles something about it being a one-time thing before coming cuddling. Bruce can’t help but smile at the sight.
“Turns out you saved me after all.”
Bruce feels something cold wash over him.
“I’m sorry, I should have…”
Dick rolls his eyes.
“You should have what? Worried about something that had a very low probability of happening? Are you gonna apologize because for once you weren’t paranoid enough?”
Bruce opens his mouth and closes it. Because he was going to do exactly that. Dick extends the arm that isn’t holding Damian.
“Come on. Come cuddle.”
Damian makes a disagreeing noise.
“Grayson, this bed is in no shape or form made for three people.”
Bruce can’t help but agree. He doesn’t know how much weight the hospital is supposed to hold but he’s in no way light. Dick is a little smaller and thinner, but he’s still made of pure muscle and Damian is a growing, athletic boy. He doesn’t want them to break the bed, and he doesn’t want to jostle Dick more than necessary. He settles for moving a chain close to the bed and taking the offered hand. Dick seems to be satisfied as he closes his eyes.
After a time, his eldest groans and Bruce’s heart skips a beat.
“What is it?”
“There is no way I can teach my class this morning. I’ll have to call the center. And on such short notice. I hate it.”
Bruce sighs. That’s the problem?
“Do you want me to call?”
Dick shakes his head.
“No, it’s fine, just, could you bring me my phone? Or ask someone to swing by the manor to bring it?”
Damian squirm from under Dick’s arm, reaching for his pocket.
“Actually, I have it. It was on your nightstand, so I used it to call the ambulance.”
There is some kind of permission asked here. Damian knows he’s not supposed to touch someone else’s stuff. That doesn’t stop him from doing it sometimes, but he still has a hard time figuring out where the rules bend, whether or not he’s in trouble. Bruce wonders if it’s a remanent from his time in the league or just his nature. Dick seems to understand the unsaid question.
“That’s good, kiddo. You did the right thing.” He takes the phone, and his face squirt in confusion. He handles it to Bruce.
There is a text conversation with the contact Timmy <3 on the screen. The last message, received in the early morning, reads B is being super weird.
Dick looks at him.
“Care to explain?”