i really enjoyed writing babs, jason and dick in the last fic so here they are again 

I'm aware of the medical inaccuracy but i do not give a shit <3

"Hey Babs," Nightwing greeted. He'd been quiet for a while but Oracle put that down to him concentrating. He'd gone up against a giant gang on his own and whilst he could very much hold his ground, it was a big feat to pull off alone. She did try to get him back up but of course, Batman was hogging most of the family and Red Hood had outright refused. "I'm headin' back."

"So early?" she replied with a frown. "They must've given you a good fight."

"Just about," he responded. His voice was tight. Alarms sounded in her head and she quickly hacked into the CCTV cameras closest to his current location. She could just about make out him making his way home over the rooftops but not much else due to their quality. She noticed he was a little slow but if he was tired then that was to be expected. He fumbled a few landings but again, if he was tired then it made sense. Yet she couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't telling her something. 

"How'd it go?" she asked. It was about now that she regretted taking the suit that would show her his vitals into the shop. Granted, it wouldn't give her an accurate reading. The reason she needed to work on it was because it wasn't giving her the correct blood pressure and made it seem like he was constantly on the verge of passing out when he was completely fine. Even if it was broken, it would at least give her something to ask him about. Right now, she was blind as to what was wrong. 

"Fine," he answered.

"You sure?"

"Mhm. Won't see 'em for a while." 

Finally, she found a camera that didn't have the same quality as gravel, and she got a good look at him. Or rather what he was leaving behind. The camera was in black and white but she could see a trail of something dark hit the light grey ground. It didn't take a genius to ascertain what it was. She sighed in annoyance. She didn't get why he hid injuries when he was on his way home and she would see it anyway. Maybe he thought he could patch himself up first before she noticed but she would be suspicious when she went through the first aid kit to refill it and found supplies unaccounted for. 

"Anything I should know?" she asked. He didn't like it when she spied on him without him expressly asking for her to but when he pulled stunts like this, she didn't have much choice.

"Uh, I don't think so," he answered. "Think I scuffed a Wingding."

"I'm going to ask you this once and I won't get mad if you answer honestly. You get one chance. Are you injured?" There was a long pause. On the camera, she could see him standing there and thinking about it. Did she do something to make him think he couldn't tell her when he was hurt? She knew it was a habit but he'd gotten better at it before she became Oracle. 

"I can get home."

"So that's a yes."

"...yes." He got moving again, his movements getting more clumsy but at least he was getting closer to home. 

"Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"Got shot a few times. I can make it home," he insisted. She didn't doubt that. He'd been blown up and thrown through windows before taking a leisurely stroll home she didn't doubt he would make it. What she did doubt was how long he'd stay conscious when the adrenaline wore off after getting home. 

"How many times?" He paused again.

"A couple of times."

"Nightwing."

"Four. I think," he admitted. "It's a blur. Woo hoo. References."

"Not funny."

"It's a lil bit." 

"Just get home. Now."

"Coming, dear."

Eventually, she heard the familiar creek come from their fire escape and swiftly wheeled herself to the window. She sat with her arms folded then made the last-minute decision to move her leg so she was cross-legged to make her point further. Dick crawled in through the window without any of his usual grace then faceplanted onto the floor and she lost all the fight she had to yell about hiding injuries. She supposed he had given her a semi-honest answer when she pressed for it.

"Hi," he greeted sweetly as though he were a child caught red-handed. She rolled her eyes fondly.

"Hey, twinkle toes. You wanna do me a favour and drag yourself to the bathroom?"

"Gimme two seconds," he replied.

"No, you're not bleeding out on the floor." He groaned in exasperation and lifted his head up, pouting at her. "Very cute. Bathroom."

"You're very demanding today."

"I'm taking advantage of what little adrenaline you have left." He relented and forced himself up onto shaking arms then pushed himself onto trembling legs. She wheeled herself close beside him in case he toppled over but by some miracle, he managed to make it to the bathroom and seated himself on the side of the bathtub. He wobbled dangerously but managed to remain upright. "Suit off Wonder Boy, I wanna see if we've got some exit wounds or if I've got some excavation work to do." He hummed yet didn't move. "Dick?" He blinked slowly and she realised his eyes were becoming unfocused. She had about a minute before he either puked or passed out and she didn't know which she preferred at this moment. Barbara grabbed him by the shoulders and made sure he was leaning forward. If he puked then he would only ruin the bathmat and not get it in his wounds. If he passed out, he'd faceplant the floor rather than crack his skull hitting the back of his head on the bath. "I think whether Jay likes it or not, he's gonna have to help you out."

"Alfie?" he asked. She couldn't tell if it was a response to her statement or if he wasn't quite here with her. She decided on the first for peace of mind.

"He'll be busy with the rest of the boys. They're on a big mission, remember?" He hummed distantly. "Just sit tight for a sec. Can you do that for me?" He hummed again. "Okay, I'll be right back."

Jason rolled his eyes at getting another phone call from Barbara. Both she and Bruce had been bothering him today. He knew they didn't take days off but he rather liked his quiet nights in with a book and a beer. He didn't tell them that. He told them he was working on a case he couldn't take his eyes off. He let it go to voicemail as he carried on reading. The book was second hand and he was rather happy of that fact considering it wasn't any good. Sometimes he needed a bad book to make the other books he read seem even better than they were. 

Less than a minute later, his phone rang again. Barbara was being really insistent. He frowned to himself and left it to voicemail. He knew Dick was out tonight and he'd bitten off more than he could chew but the guy was resilient. If he was in trouble, he'd get himself out of it eventually. Then again, Barbara knew that too. She wasn't overly protective of the acrobat. She fretted a little more than necessary sometimes but she was one of the few to keep a level head when he was playing chicken with danger. 

Another call came through and he answered. 

"I'm going to kill you, Jason," Barbara hissed. 

"Hi to you too," he grumbled. "What's up?"

"I need help patching Dick up. He's got four GSWs and he's pretty out of it. I don't know if it's blood loss or he's just tired from getting here."

"Take him to a hospital," Jason replied. 

"I don't know if you've ever been in a wheelchair but it's pretty fucking hard to move the deadweight of someone made of pure muscle and I think the neighbours will have some questions after seeing Nightwing be taken away to an ambulance when I'm supposed to be dating Dick Grayson."

"He's survived worse. You can always say you're poly."

"Jason," she said sternly. "He shouldn't have even made it home." He sighed to himself and put a bookmark in before closing his latest read and getting up. 

"Alright. Need me to get some blood bags?"

"We've got some," she replied. She paused for a moment. "Why didn't you help tonight?"

"He didn't need me."

"He'll always need you. You're just not there."

"Babs-"

"What were you doing huh? What kept you so busy that he went out alone and nearly got himself killed?"

"You don't want the answer," he responded. On the one hand, she didn't want to know because it didn't matter. She was worried and it was still a sore spot that she couldn't always handle him on her own anymore. On the other hand, she would definitely kill him if she found out what he'd been doing. He could acknowledge that it was kind of shitty to leave him in the dust for a book but if he spent his life putting aside his own downtime to help someone else then he'd never rest. 

"Guess I already got one," she muttered. "Use the front door and come in plain clothes. Hopefully we can play this off as a late-night family gathering." She hung up after that and he huffed to himself. He really needed to get Bruce to start paying him considering how many hours he put into this job on and off the clock.

There was a minute before Barbara returned to the bathroom. After hanging up, she stared at the phone with an emotion she couldn't quite decipher. She understood that Jason didn't owe them anything. He didn't have to help in Bludhaven since it wasn't even his territory yet she couldn't help but feel some resentment that he hadn't agreed to support Dick tonight. Maybe it was because she knew that Dick would drop everything if it meant he didn't go in alone or perhaps it was just disappointment that he was still acting like nobody was happy he was back despite so much time passing. She guessed she would never understand why. It was Jason's personal issues and the day she figured out Jason was the day Batman retired. 

Once she let out a deep breath, she rolled back to the bathroom and found Dick wobbling back and forth on the edge of the tub. He glanced up at her with a loopy grin as if she was his entire world and she let herself revel in that for a moment before securing him in place before he wobbled too far either way. 

"Jay is gonna pay us a visit soon," she said. He tilted his head to the side in confusion. "I needed the help."

"Is good you asked," he replied. 

"If only you did the same and we'd actually use this bathroom for what it's intended for more often," she mumbled. He giggled softly. "Can you get the top off or do I need to cut it off?" He raised his arms briefly and winced. "I'll get the scissors."

"No," he whined. "Is my only top." She was about to point out that he did own other tops but he was already tugging at the hem in a vein attempt to get it over his head. Barbara huffed and helped him pull it off before he injured himself more. He gave her a cheeky grin once it was off.

"Proud of yourself?" He nodded mischievously. "You better start praying that you didn't dislodge anything pulling that stunt." She moved to the cabinet under the sink and grabbed the first aid kit there. He followed her hands closely and tilted whichever way they moved. "You're not seeing anything outside of a bedroom and a bathroom for the next fortnight."

"Maybe a hospital room," he added. 

"Not if we can help it. I don't like hospitals," she replied. 

She grimly recalled staring at the hospital one night. Dick had gotten in over his head and was admitted. She could've spent all day staring at the door, watching it slide open as people came and went. Hospital doors saw so much grief, hope and happiness. Inside was her boyfriend who came to all her appointments and made little notes in his phone that only he could understand. Yet she couldn't bring herself to go in. So she didn't. She called someone else, told them she couldn't make it and that he needed someone there to support him. He didn't ask why she didn't visit. He already knew.

"M head feels silly," he mumbled. Then he was falling forward before she registered what he said. Then, in horror, as he lay slumped over in her arms, she realised she had no way of moving his limp body somewhere safe. If she pushed him back towards the tub, he would fall into it and likely make his injuries worse. If she moved back and let him drop to the floor, she wouldn't have the space to put him into the recovery position so he'd be laying on his front. If he vomited, it would be game over. 

"Where are you Jay?" she muttered.

Jason opened the door to Dick's apartment and made a B-Line to the bathroom where Barbara was stuck with the unconscious acrobat on her lap. He quickly squeezed himself into a space that barely accommodated Barbara's wheelchair, let alone that and two other muscled men. He wordlessly pulled Dick up until he was in a sitting position and stabilised him with a steady hand.

"Check his back for exit wounds. He's got two GSWs on his hip, one on his shoulder and the other on his bicep," Barbara ordered. He nodded and checked. Four were straight through but the one to his bicep had been slowed down by the muscle. They'd have to fish it out and hope it hadn't fragmented upon entry.

"We're diving in his bicep. Where do you want him?" he asked. She quickly shook off the surprise of seeing him and looked around. There wasn't really anywhere to put him. The floor would make it difficult to work on him and so would the bath. The toilet would be her next bet but it was crowded by the end of the tub and the sink so they would struggle to work efficiently. 

"Fuck it, get him on the couch in the living room. We'll just buy a new one," she answered. He nodded and carefully moved his brother so he could hold him bridal style. He would cringe if he didn't see how bad Dick looked. He doubted he'd looked so awful when he got the call which couldn't mean anything good if he'd gone downhill so fast. 

After setting Dick on the couch on his side, Jason took to setting up a blood bag from the supplies he found in the closet whilst Barbara grabbed her tweezers. She was no stranger to plucking out bullets that didn't make it all the way through but that didn't mean she didn't grimace any less when she reached for them. She grabbed the small pen light they kept in the box, turned it on and put it between her teeth so she could see what she was working with. 

"How's it looking?" Jason asked as he dabbed away enough blood to cleanly sew the skin back together. Bruce had taught them all first aid but Alfred really threw the book at them on stitches. He didn't want any of them to walk around with a scar they could've prevented or at least allowed to fade further with better technique. He must've gone through a small grocery store's worth of bananas to get it right. 

"Shallow. They definitely weren't aiming here," she answered. "I think it must've been a spray. Given they're all on the right side, he must've been in the process of avoiding it. He was lucky but not lucky enough."

"That's Goldie for you," he replied. She glanced at him over her glasses before returning her gaze to the delicate work of extracting the bullet.

"He wouldn't need the luck had someone been there." He rolled his eyes.

"If he thought he really needed me, he would've told me to get my ass into gear or get one of his redhead fleet to help out."

"Ah yes because Dick is infamous for asking for help and always knowing when he's too deep to get something done himself. How could I, the girl he's known since nine, possibly forget that?"

"You don't have to be such a," he stopped himself, thinking better of it. Unfortunately, he should've thought better much sooner.

"Such a what?" she snapped. "Such a bitch?"

"That's not- Look, I get you're worried about pixie boots but I'm not responsible for him and neither are you."

"This isn't about being responsible for someone, it's about caring for someone."

"Oh like how you're choosing to treat him here, on your couch, instead of taking him to a real hospital? You already got his shirt off and it's not like he's wearing the iconic Nightwing pants."

"And how would I explain the gunshots?"

"You've found a way before. You're doing this because you're scared of the hospital and want to prove you can still look after him in house but you can't so you called me in and made me feel guilty for something I didn't do." She took her tweezers out so she didn't accidentally hit a nerve as she shook with anger.

"You're so much better aren't you? As if you haven't pushed him away because you can't work through your death without bringing everyone down with you. He wasn't even on world Jason!"

"I was dealing with the Lazurus Pit still."

"That's an explanation and not an excuse. Try again."

"I don't have an answer. Happy?"

"Never am. Not when you refuse to accept people actually want you around."

"Because you're making me feel so welcome right now."

"I'm mad at you because you should've been there! I couldn't be there, I wanted more than anything to be there but I can't anymore and I'm depending on people who are supposed to give a shit about him to be there for me. You let both of us down, for what? You still haven't said."

"You know what, I've done my bit already. I've got better things to do than be blamed for someone getting hurt," he stated. He tossed the needle and thread into the box and stood up. He had every intention of walking out of the door before his hand hit the handle. 

It seemed to sober up within seconds. It was an incredibly bad look to leave Dick in the condition he was in, with Barbara not only getting out a bullet but also sewing everything up with no way of getting him off the couch since he was still unconscious. Even when he did wake up, there was a high risk of him wobbling the wrong way on the walk over and then he'd be on the floor. He may not agree with her blaming him for this but he couldn't leave. Then he would be partially responsible for whatever bad thing happened. He let out a sigh and turned back around to see Barbara blinking away tears as she tried to focus. 

"I was reading a book and enjoying a beer. I wanted to have a normal night in. I need to look after myself too and I get that it looks like a dick move. Maybe it was but I need to put myself first. I can't be there every time something bad happens and if I try to, I'm just gonna feel like shit when I can't," he explained as he walked back to return to work.

"I get it," she said softly. "I really do. I'd have to nail Dick to the couch to make him take a night off without injury. There's nothing wrong with that. What I'm mad about is that you could've helped tonight because no one else could. You could've gone straight home and done the same thing."

"Not really a night off though, is it?"

"It would be an hour of your time," she stated. "I'm sorry for blaming you for this. It's not your fault it went wrong. He should've waited and he should've called for help as soon as he got hurt."

"It's not your fault either," Jason replied. "You know, he wouldn't give a shit if you couldn't patch him up every time he gets home. He lived on his own for years."

"I don't think it's a crime to want to look after your boyfriend," she answered. "Feels like it sometimes."

"There are other ways. Self-care and shit. I'm sure he'd a face mask or something to keep up his pretty boy status."

"What would we know about self-care?" she inquired with a depreciative smirk.

"Fuck all but it's an idea." She nodded.

"Yeah, guess it is."

Dick woke up half an hour later, patched up and sore but much more with it. He huffed as he realised he was on the couch.

"I hate couch shopping."

"A thanks would be nice," Jason commented.

"Thanks," he replied. "I hate couch shopping."