SORRY IT'S LATE

btw no updates for a bit my charger for my computer offed itself and i can only write on my computer because typing it out makes me wanna die

cw: i did impale a child

If there was one thing Robin wasn't, it was still. He was always moving. He'd rock on his heels, pace whilst he thought, and climb and scramble any chance he got. All those who had the strength to do so and the distinct ability not to say no were used to Robin using them like makeshift climbing frames. He was always itching with energy that would find a way to crawl out if he stood in one place for a moment too long. It was always so funny to see such a bright energetic being next to someone as dark and cold as Batman who only moved when you blinked. There was something special about seeing the pair when they thought no one was watching when Batman let down his intimidating exterior and glowed despite the amount of black he wore. For too long he'd hung around like a rain cloud but Robin brought some brightness so now he was more like a fluffy white cloud that occasionally threatened to rain with no real intention of doing so. 

That's what made this sight so sickly.

Not only were they separated into two different hospital rooms connected only by one wall but it was Robin who was making no sign of waking up. He was deathly still, the only movement he made coming from the slow rise and fall of his chest. Yet he was lucky even if he was the worse off of the two. Even with the casts and post-surgery paleness, he was lucky to be alive. Not every ten-year-old could survive a wooden beam implanting itself in their side, barely missing important organs as it buried itself into flesh.

"Bruce is going to lose it," Oliver mentioned, looking through the window into Dick's room. He didn't want to tell Roy what had happened to his pseudo-kid brother and as long as he stood there watching, he didn't have to. He was busy remaining vigilant and he couldn't spare a moment to look for his phone. 

"He knew the risks," Diana replied a little coldly. He doubted she meant it. She'd been the one to argue the most against having Dick become a hero and argued even more when others began taking in their own kid sidekicks. She feared this exact situation happening and he thought that she was taking it even harder because she was there to witness the accident. They all understood if it wasn't Bruce training the acrobat, it would be someone else likely with bad intentions. The last thing they needed was another assassin in the world who could've been good if given the chance. 

"So does Dick."

"Dick is a child. He doesn't understand the danger," she snapped.

"And yet he was the one who pointed out the bomb and tried to protect us. The kid understands danger enough, he grew up in the circus. Half those tricks would have him dead twice over if he didn't understand the danger," he argued. The Amazon shook her head and rubbed her temples to ease the stress headache. She always felt particularly close to the acrobat as did Clark. They adored the kid which had made them fight so hard against allowing him to be a hero but now that he was, neither of them could deny how adorable he looked in his little suit. Seeing him hurt was like seeing one of her sisters hurt and all she could do was wish that she'd taken the blow instead of him. "It's hard to see him so banged up, I get it, but he's alive. He's here."

"He's so small," she whispered. "He was so excited to spend time with us and now he's going to miss so much." Oliver tentatively reached out and put his hand on her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. 

"We'll put him on a leash next time so he doesn't run ahead or maybe we'll get a bigger version of those slings mums to wear so one of us can carry him the whole time." She smiled, rolling her eyes at the suggestion but it was an improvement nonetheless. "Go on. You look like you need to sit with him. I'll go check with Clark on whether the dark knight is pouting or not."

"Bruce won't be happy when he finds out what happened. I'll have someone's head for it."

"As you said, he knew the risks. We all did." She shook her head.

"Being the man that he is, he needs to publically blame someone whilst he wallows in his own guilt." She spared a glance to Bruce's room and then turned back to the archer. "You should avoid him lest you want to bear this burden's weight. Besides, I'm sure your own ward will want to know the condition of his friend." 

"You knew I was avoiding that, huh?" She nodded before entering Dick's room and closing the door behind her, effectively shutting him out even if he could look through the window. He watched her take a seat by the bed and hold the boy's hand in her own, rubbing her thumb along the back of it comfortingly. When Diana began to speak, he took his leave. 

Consciousness bleeds back to Bruce drop by drop. He was confronted first by familiar darkness and the slow realisation that he was in darkness because his eyes were closed not because his surroundings were dark. Next, he hears the sounds of various machines. He had been hurt enough and visited the other side before being pulled back enough times, to recognise them as hospital equipment. He listened to the steady beep of the heart monitor to confirm he is alive. He noticed the lack of the loud whir the ventilator made so from what he can tell, things aren't that dire since he can breathe on his own and his heart isn't skipping beats. The sensation of a variety of things stuck to his skin plunged into his body and biting at his nose tells him that he's been injured badly enough to be monitored but not enough to be dying. He's likely had surgery judging by the fog that clouds his mind and makes him come to the conclusions he does much later than he'd like. 

"Bruce, are you waking up over there?" Clark asked from somewhere off to his left. His voice initially sent Bruce into a panic before he remembered that they were on the same side. They were friends, friends who were one push away from being enemies but friends nonetheless. He trusted the man as much as he could trust any alien war machine paraded around like a God sent. He decided that he needed to open his eyes and properly assess the damage. It was all well and good to feel how he was doing but there might be parts of his body that were simply numbed to the nth degree to ensure he wouldn't be screaming in pain. 

With great effort, he opened his eyes before immediately squeezing them closed at the bright light above him. Hospital lighting was decidedly the worst lighting. Who thought that they should have bright fluorescent lights right above a patient's head as they wake up? He tried again after mentally chastising hospital aesthetics and found that he could keep his eyes open for much longer on this attempt. They felt dry and itchy. He tilted his head to the left where he'd heard Clark's voice and found the man sitting in an armchair beside his bed. He then belatedly noticed the hand covering his own. 

"I better be dying if you're holding my hand," he growled out, although his croaky voice softened the edges. He would deny any fondness if any asked about it. The super rolled his eyes goodnaturedly and let go of his hand after giving it a quick reassuring squeeze. 

"Good to see you haven't changed from your hit on the head," Clark replied. Bruce couldn't feel any tight bandages on his head so he assumed that he'd received a concussion prior to going under. 

"Sitrep?"

"Sitrep- you're not in the army you know?" He glared at the man. "You've come out of surgery to fix some internal bleeding. Hope you didn't want your appendix because that had to be taken out. You had a grade 2 concussion and a cracked rib. Other than that just scrapes and bruises." He was right in his assumption that he wasn't dying and getting his appendix out now meant he didn't have to deal with it later. 

"How long have I been here?"

"Coming up to a day now. You've been in and out but I doubt you remember." He didn't remember. "You're at the Watchtower by the way. In case you didn't remember." He could've made an educated guess but he decided not to say that. "Do you need anything?"

"Am I allowed water?" Clark nodded and disappeared out of view for a few moments, leaving the hero to recollect his memories. Watchtower meant that he'd been hurt on a mission with the Justice League and hadn't been able to make it back to Gotham to receive treatment there. 

He tried to remember the mission but it was fuzzy. He knew that there were missiles involved. There was a cave and then there was a cave-in? Yes, there was a cave-in! The missiles were a dead lead, it was a trap. The cave they were looking in was brought down around them, intent on catching them off guard and killing those who weren't built with bulletproof skin. It was a lazy trick. Bruce hadn't planned the mission though, he said he'd look over the reports but then Dick had distracted him because he'd decided to take a tumble off the first-floor landing. He wasn't hurt but he'd been shocked enough that he needed to be held for an hour to calm down. 

Clark came back with a bottle of water and handed it to him, much too fearful to attempt to bring the bottle to his lips and feed him the water. Good choice. With shaking hands, Bruce brought the bottle to his lips and continued to run through the day.

He'd been talking to someone right before the bomb went off. Well, they were talking to him and he was listening sometimes. He wasn't a conversationalist when he wore the mask and outside of the mask come to think of it. The person talking to him was asking about caves. Simple questions that you would learn from a quick Google search or falling asleep with the history channel in the background. They'd broken off mid-question and shouted bomb, pointing to something on the wall. A bomb probably. Then there was a high-pitched scream. Like a child. His child-

"Where's Dick?" he asked suddenly. Clark looked at him like the world was on his shoulders, immediately exhausted by the question which can't be anything good. In fact, it could mean the very worst. The thought made bile rise to his throat. No, he couldn't be lying here whilst his ward was lying in a morgue. He simply couldn't. "Clark, where is he?"

"He's here. He's alive."

"Clark," Bruce warned.

"He was closer to the bomb than you were. Barry tried to protect him but the blast knocked them back into a wall and Dick took the brunt of the blow. He's out of surgery, they say that he's going to be fine but the recovery is going to take a lot out of him."

"Tell me what's wrong with him."

"Do you want me to ease you into it or-"

"Clark, I swear to God, tell me what happened to my kid."

"He was impaled. With a wooden beam. Went right through his side but don't worry because they removed it and the surgery was a success. He lost quite a bit of blood before that and he was conscious enough to see it so he went into shock. He likely has a concussion from hitting his head on the wall and his shoulder was dislocated too." Bruce stared at him dumbfounded as he reckoned with that news. Impaled. At ten years old. He should've done the work to ensure the lead wasn't a trap. He could've found the time eventually to look through it and be completely sure. He could've refused to even bring Dick in the first place and he very nearly did but then of course Clark and Diana had to join in the acrobat's efforts to tag along. 

"Where is he now?"

"In the next room. He's not woken up yet, they doubt he will until tonight or early morning," Clark explained. "Diana is with him, Oliver too."

"I want to see him."

"You will, but right now you need rest. You've both been through major surgeries. We've got everything covered."

"I want to see my son." Bruce didn't beg. He hadn't begged for much of anything since his parents died aside from the plea for one night when he didn't see their corpses but this was awfully close to a beg without the formalities of one. 

"Bruce, I can't believe I'm saying this, but be logical. You need rest and he does too. You're both in good hands and you're both going to be okay but I'm telling you now that if you see him, you will not be able to rest. I'll have you moved in there as soon as possible but for now, go back to sleep."

"Promise me," the billionaire began. "Promise me he'll be okay and I'll see him when I wake up." 

"I promise."

Honestly, Bruce didn't expect Clark to make good on his promise. He wasn't out of it enough to assume the promise was a real one and not one to get him sleep off the heavier pain medication although he was pleasantly surprised to wake up in a room that wasn't his own beside his young protege. That pleasant surprise soon faded when he saw Dick laying all too still and all too pale on the hospital bed to his right. Diana glaring at him from his ward's bedside also wasn't welcome but he couldn't blame her for that. If Dick looked tiny to him then he must look even tinier to her. 

"He's so still," was the first thing he thought to say before tentatively moving his arm so he could hold the boy's hands. His limbs felt heavy from sleep and pain medication but he was determined to let his boy know that he was there. 

"I know," she replied shortly. 

"Diana," Clark chastised from Bruce's left. Great, stuck in a room with two people he had hesitant friendships with and had protested the loudest when he took on such a young protege. It wasn't exactly his ideal recovery condition. "He's going to be just fine Bruce. He'll be waking up soon."

"Has anyone told Alfred?" he asked, knowing his butler would be worried about where they were. 

"Of course. We offered to allow him to visit but he wanted to wait until you were both more awake and up for visitors," the super explained. "I think he'd prefer to see you when you aren't pale from surgery. I know I didn't like to see you like that."

"I wouldn't have been like this if the rest of you actually did your research on the lead," Bruce snapped back.

"Maybe you shouldn't have brought a child into a war!" Diana snarled. "He's ten years old and he's been impaled!"

"He's safer doing it alongside me. He would've been out there anywhere and I'll be damn sure not to make another kid grow up into a villain I have to fight."

"You're not telling me that you could not possibly keep him from going out on the streets."

"He would've gotten himself killed Diana!"

"Well he isn't much better off now is he?"

"Diana!" Clark shouted. She huffed and sat further back in her seat, folding her arms across her chest in a blatant refusal to take back anything she said. "We've been over this enough times. Dick went after Bruce when he was nine and was insistent on being Robin, it's safer he learns how to fight properly and has someone by his side when he gets over his head. We don't have to agree but we can't keep fighting about it."

"Perhaps we should have."

"Criticise me all you want but don't do it in front of my kid," Bruce told her sternly. She narrowed her eyes but nodded in silent agreement. 

A tense hour passed where none of them said anything, all of them unable to make a conversation that wouldn't result in an argument. They weren't sure if Dick could hear them but none of them wanted to risk it. It was thanks to their focus being purely on the little acrobat that they noticed the first signs of him waking up. His eyebrows drew together tightly and his eyes scrunched up, his fingers flexing experimentally as he fought through the last dregs of sleep. He let out a confused noise before opening his eyes, hissing at the light. 

"Hey, little one," Diana greeted softly. "Are you waking up?" He hummed and managed to keep his eyes open long enough to settle on her face. 

"Diana?" he asked. His voice was croaky like he had a bad cold and he seemed uncomfortable talking. He carefully looked around and they realised that the last place he remembered being was inside a collapsed cave. He hadn't been conscious when he was rescued even though they tried to keep him awake. "Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital," she informed him. 

"Where's Dad?" Bruce drew in a sharp breath, fearing he was still out of it and didn't remember losing his parents. He didn't know if he could be the one to let him know. Yet his quick inhale had Dick turning to him with a relieved smile. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay chum. Are you okay?"

"Mno," he replied. His voice sounded light and they guessed he wouldn't be awake for much longer if his drooping eyes were anything to go by. At least he didn't seem too out of it. "Got impaled. Like a human Capri Sun. Is it gonna scar?"

"It probably will bud," Clark told him. The acrobat's eyes widened at the added voice and he picked his head up off the pillow slightly to look at the alien.

"Superman and Wonder Woman and my dad are in my room? I should get impaled more often." His cadence was all off and Bruce couldn't help but smile at the soft accent poking through. That and he'd once again been referred to as the boy's father. There was a special pride in being chosen to be someone's father and it took every ounce of facial training he'd learn not to be grinning upon feeling it. 

"Oh don't say that. You scared us back there," Diana insisted. 

"I'm sorry." Dick drew in a deep tired breath and his eyes spent longer closed than opened. "I'll be more careful."

"I'm sure you will be," Bruce confirmed. "Why don't you go back to sleep?"

"Been sleep for ages," he replied but he was settling down all the same. 

"I know but you need all the rest you can get. You lost a lot of blood."

"And I was impaled."

"You were." He hummed, nodding to himself and then turning to see Diana. 

"Can you tell me about the other warriors again?" 

"I'd be happy to tell you about my sisters," she replied, lightly brushing his hair to the side so it would be out of his eyes.

"Cool."