CW for injury and general descriptions of illness

TW: ALLUDING TO SH BUT NOTHING IN DETAIL

https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/types-of-mental-health-problems/self-harm/useful-contacts/

https://www.benice.org/get-help/crisis-hotline

https://www.samaritans.org/how-we-can-help/if-youre-having-difficult-time/if-you-want-self-harm/

Saturday morning came all too soon for the acrobat but he still forced himself out of bed with an exhausted yawn. He coughed harshly after that and groaned as it aggravated his likely bruised ribs. He felt boiling but he guessed that he'd just left the heating in his room on for too long last night or maybe it was too far in the year to keep on a thick duvet. Getting sick? Pfft, that wasn't something he could do. He drank water on Wednesday and he was eating Alfred's food so there was no way he could be getting sick. Maybe it was just a warm day in the fall. Global warming was real. His head was swimming though but still, he pushed himself out of bed and heard his joints crack and pop in protest. His body wanted nothing more than to rest and his brain desperately needed to address the growing darkness slowly taking over it but like every morning, he pushed it all away. If he kept the lid closed on those thoughts, maybe this would all be okay. He was already doing so well, right? Everyone was healthy and kept on with their lives. He didn't mind being left behind in that sense. He trudged over to the bathroom and brushed his teeth numbly. His mirror screamed at him to take a good look at himself but he refused. So what if the man in the mirror was a hollow version of himself? It's okay for now. Once his family were okay and didn't need help anymore, he'd deal with himself. 

But when will that be?

He didn't know. They still weren't doing great. Damian was still having trouble sleeping, Tim was more paranoid than usual and don't even get him started on the others. He'd just have to wait it out until their worrying habits subsided.

How much longer?

It didn't matter. Those kids around him still needed time to grow up and he was an adult. His childhood was far in the past. He didn't really have one after his parents died but he'd still had his chance that had long since passed. That thought lingered and he let out a sombre low chuckle. You'd think losing your father again would be easier than the first time but apparently not. He shook his head and continued through his morning routine until he finally went downstairs. 

It was nine in the morning so he'd missed the family breakfast but he didn't mind. Sometimes they got too loud and then he'd have a headache which just made everything worse. The day already felt too long as he dragged himself down the Batcave. He could hear the weights being used and let out a small huff in annoyance. He'd wanted to avoid people for at least an hour more but he supposed that was impossible with how many people lived in the house. He blew out a breath before plastering that soft smile on and strolled into the gym. 

"Mornin," he greeted, not really seeing who was in there. 

"Morning Dick," Steph replied. Damian just gave a grunt of acknowledgement. He went for the weights and got to work, ignoring his body calling him all the curses under the sun for making it work when it felt so bad. He still felt warm too but guessed that someone had put the heating on in the gym since it got freezing in the cave. The last thing any of them needed was mild hypothermia whilst doing squats. "Hey uhm I was thinking," Steph began awkwardly, turning down the speed on the treadmill so her voice wasn't too wobbly. "You've been doing a lot recently and I wanted to say thanks." He paused and looked over at her with furrowed eyebrows. 

"You don't need to say thank you," he replied.

"No, no I really do. All of us do."

"Steph, it's fine. Don't be telling the others to do that either. It's not necessary. I'm just doing my job." She hummed and continued with her workout. He shook off the weird feeling she gave him and guessed she just had a close call last night. Everyone got a little weird when they cut things too close. He'd ask if she was okay after. He felt Damian staring at him and sent the boy a questioning glance. The stare hardened and he rolled his eyes. "I'm fine." The younger shook his head but his eyes were off of the acrobat which ended the crawling feeling on his skin. The prickles of heat remained though.

But you're not fine! Tell someone!

He upped the weights and continued his workout.

The morning was going quite well with everyone working out in the gym. Taunts filled the room, a competition going on here and there but Dick kept to himself. He was already pushing his body as it was and he risked exposing how bad he was doing if he joined in. As he did his cool-down run on the treadmill, he became acutely aware of the pulsing in his head. It wasn't a headache he usually got when around his family members but that didn't mean he wasn't familiar with it. He remembered that it came on usually after a hit of chloroform or knock-out gas. His face became pinched as the pulsing grew. He knew this feeling. He turned off the treadmill and put a hand to his head, letting out a long slow breath. He'd hoped that would kill the pulsing but it didn't. Slowly as to not alert anyone, he stepped off the machine and put his hand on it to steady himself. Passing out was inevitable.

Tell someone!

Right now he needed to get out before someone noticed. The last thing they needed was for him to hit the deck. They were depending on him. He swallowed thickly and did his best to ignore the black dots edging into his field of vision.

They're right there!

Yeah, they're right there. He needed to get out of the gym quickly. Where was a good place to pass out for a bit without anybody seeing him? His bedroom. That was pretty far away though and he might not make it. On the one hand, he could stick around and pass out in front of his siblings. On the other hand, he could try to make it to his bedroom and possibly pass out on the stairs. He took a moment.

You've got to be kidding me. Just tell them!

Bedroom it was. Why was it so hot in here? They needed to make a rule that you couldn't turn on the heater in the gym for so long. He made an attempt to start his long journey to his room but he couldn't even take a step without feeling unbelievably nauseous. 

"Dick?" Duke called. Fuck. He didn't make any attempt to turn to the voice. Whether that was a choice or not, he wasn't quite sure. Everything felt boiling hot like his blood was lava running beneath his skin. Did he get hit with something last night? A drug or something? No, he definitely didn't. He would've remembered. Or would he have? No, he definitely would. He was Nightwing, Nightwing didn't forget things but Nightwing was Batman now. Neither forgot things though so there's no way he could have forgotten. His head fogged further and he blinked a few times to get the black dots away. They weren't going away. Why weren't they going away? In fact, they were moving in. His sight was getting worse and he felt his skin continue to burn. Everything was so much and there was this dangling hope that if he closed his eyes it would all go away. He took the opportunity, forgetting his previous goal and those he was around. Just a minute or so and he'd feel much better. The darkness flooded in and he felt himself fall.

Duke was timing Jason and Damian's push-ups when he caught Dick acting strangely out of the corner of his eye. He'd stopped his cooldown early which he never did and actively dissuaded everyone else from doing it. He looked unsteady on his feet as he got off and stopped moving completely when he got to the side of the machine. Worried since the workout hadn't been nearly intense enough to cause him to be so dishevelled, Duke called out to him to check in. There wasn't a response which then alerted the rest of them to the situation. He should have responded with something. He didn't leave people hanging like that. They all watched him for a good minute before Jason caught sight of his knees buckling and raced over to him, catching him just as his head was about to crash into the floor. 

"What the fuck, Dickhead?" Jason growled out as he moved the older into the recovery position. The siblings were by his side in an instant and they drank in the sobering sight of their eldest's condition. The colour had drained from his face and his bangs were sticking to his forehead which was slicked with sweat. He looked like he hasn't slept well in months. They all had a feeling it wasn't from running on the treadmill either since they knew he was going easy today. His body was shivering yet when Jason put the back of his hand to his forehead he was burning up. "He's got a fever." A heavy silence fell upon the group. He was sick. They had to deal with a sick person who was naturally a fixer and caretaker whilst barely a handful of them had the emotional range and patience to deal with him. This was going to be hell. 

"I told you he'd burn out soon. Didn't think it would be so literal," Duke commented.

"He's never done anything in halves," Damian commented. There was a groan from the acrobat and he groggily came too, making no moves to get up and his eyes were glossed over. He blinked a few times before he finally saw them.

"Whatcha doin on the walls?" he asked. His eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to work out how they all suddenly has sticky powers and his confusion wasn't aided by their concerned looks. 

"You're on the floor," Tim answered. He stared through him before actually looking at him and made a humming noise. He took a deep breath and forced himself to sit up which had them all cringing at the masses amount of effort it took. There was a whine as he finally sat up and his hand instinctively went to his side with a hiss of pain following. 

"Dick," Steph began, "did you get hurt?" He tilted his head to the side before slowly shaking it. A genuinely confused expression remained firm on his face as he lifted up his shirt to check what was going on. Sure enough, there was a slash from the top of his hip ripping its way through his skin to stop just above his navel. It wasn't deep from what they could tell but it looked angry. Red and greens and purples patterning it. All the colours you don't want to see in an injury when you also had a fever. 

"For fucks sake, I thought you weren't playing that shit anymore. You promised," Jason chastised. 

"But I don't remember getting it. I was fine," Dick argued back, his voice almost distant. 

"Playing what now?" Duke asked but the second eldest waved his hand dismissively. 

"I-I patched everyone up. It shouldn't be here. You would've noticed. I would've noticed," the eldest continued to argue vehemently. He went to put his hand on it but Cass caught him before he could. He glanced up at her with a look that couldn't be mistaken as anything other than desperate. His memory was failing him and that was particularly worrying when he had a massive gash that looked rather infected. "How did I shower with this? Did I?" he thought aloud. 

"I doubt it. We need to get you up and get Alfred," Duke announced. 

"No, no, I can fix this. You guys get back to it and nobody bother Alfred with this either. The last thing he needs is to deal with this and I've fixed worse on my own. I'm fine."

"You're not fine!" they all shouted in unison. 

"Creepy twin vibes from that," he grumbled. He squinted his eyes at them. "But multiplied by three."

That was the point where they decided they'd had enough. Dick wasn't dumb. He could do mental math just as fast as Tim on his better days. It never took him that long. He was covered in sweat, had an infected wound and had only just woken up from passing out. They couldn't determine what had made him pass out although they all had their theories. Namely sleep deprivation, low blood sugar and overheating exacerbated by the treadmill and fever combo. 

"Go get a wheelchair before this idiot passes out again," Jason ordered Tim. The younger nodded and ran off. "Demon Spawn, grab Alfred and tell him about the infection."

"No, don't. He's busy. He needs-"

"Forget about that. Just this once," Steph told him. He shook his head vehemently.

"No, you can't! You don't understand!" Dick shouted. He didn't want to sit still anymore, he needed to pace and move before all this anger built up inside but he could barely get up off the floor. Their winces went unnoticed by him as his fever-addled brain slowly swooped in on all the worries and thoughts plaguing his consciousness. Over exhaustion had been the catalyst needed for it to truly take hold and his distress wasn't helping the situation much either. "He's gonna be so upset. He can't take it. It's fine, I'll fix it I promise. Just don't tell him."

"Dickie, buddy, if you didn't do it on purpose then he won't be upset," Jason assured him. He'd whipped out the brotherly voice so they knew this was getting bad. It was affectionate and caring which was a total aesthetic killer so he only used it when he was worried and when he was worried, you knew the situation was bad. "You kept your promise." 

"You don't get it! I have to look after myself!"

"You don't have to," Damian argued but the acrobat was clinging to the rant.

"I have to so I'm there for this family. I've done it before, I promise I can do it again," he insisted. They soured at the remark. "I raised Damian, I let you take the mantle of Robin, I taught you things that Bruce never taught me and I love each and every one of you but unlike B, I actually showed you that I loved you. Do you know what I got for that? Fucking nothing! Because being the eldest in this family means that I'm the one who deals with all the shit with no thanks! So I have to look after myself. I can't bother anyone!" They watched him tensely as he threw his arms every which way. Fever glazed over his eyes and kept a tight hold on his mind. 

"We're thankful for what you do," Steph assured him but his gaze turned sinister at the statement. 

"Yeah? You have a funny way of showing it. If I talked to Bruce the way you talk to me sometimes I'd get hit and that isn't a hypothetical because he did hit me!" They gulped. They knew Bruce had a temper sometimes and some of them had fallen victim to it. Still, it hurt to know that Dick was part of it too. "I was just a kid, I wanted to help people, I wanted a family. Now it's all gone to the dogs and I don't know how to fix it. I'm supposed to know right?" 

"Dick," Jason called sternly. "Take a deep breath."

"He's really dead. He never adopted me. He never said sorry for anything. I'm never gonna know if I was the charity case that stuck around for too long." Dick glanced up at the family witnessing his breakdown. "Do you guys even like me?"

"Fuck dude, your thoughts are definitely one for a therapist to deal with," Jason muttered. He went over to the older and held out his hand. "Let's get you to bed yeah?"

"I just wanted to help."

"And you've helped enough," Duke said, stepping in. "It's time to get some rest."

"But do you like me?"

"Don't question that ever again. Of course, we like you. Even I like you and I'm told that's an achievement," Damian told him. 

"Did...did someone turn up the heating?" Dick asked, looking around as though he'd see the heat coming for him. 

"His fever is definitely too high. Get Alfred and fast."

Now laying in bed with an IV in his arm and having his wound dressed, Dick's siblings were all but horrified at the state of their brother. They knew that it was bad, they weren't stupid. It was just so nice to have someone look after them the way Dick did. He cared, he listened, and he wanted to know about them. Yet, he wasn't supposed to be their replacement father figure. Not when he too was going through the same grieving process no doubt wishing he had a father figure looking out for him. The fever had been high just like they expected but it seeing it was something else entirely. There was a brief panic as they raced to get it back down before it could get to call an ambulance high. Ice packs were placed under his armpits and a wet flannel was put on his forehead in hopes of bringing it down in a timely manner. He made a comment on the ice being unusable now but aside from that he'd resigned himself to quiet whimpers. 

"This is a terrible infection, sir," Alfred commented once he was done. "You're lucky you didn't contract sepsis."

"Had sepsis with Titans. No fun," Dick grumbled.

"You worry me, sir."

"M sorry Alfie. Promise not on purpose this time," he replied, his blue eyes wet with tears. He wasn't himself and that made the family feel sick to their stomachs. One of them being sick was enough for the rest to feel off-put but it was worse when it was someone as strong as Dick. Alfred ran his fingers through the man's hair, attempting to calm the unruly curls but ultimately failing. Dick leaned into his touch with a tiny smile and closed his eyes to thoroughly enjoy the comfort the small action provided. 

"Get some rest, my boy. Everyone, can you wait downstairs in the study? I believe it's time for a meeting."

"Going now?" Dick asked.

"No, you're staying here. Would you like anything?" The acrobat thought for a while, none of them liked how long it had taken, before nodding.

"Laptop. Gotta...gotta do work."

"You're not doing work," Alfred said firmly. Had he been any more with reality, Dick would've argued. It was almost sad that he wasn't fighting back. He just made a disappointed hum and began to let himself drift off to sleep. The butler frowned at how easily he'd gone down and lingered by his bedside before heaving out a sigh. He looked up at the group of teens and young adults before nodding his head to the door, silently telling them it was best to leave. They nodded in return and they slowly filtered out of the room. 

"This is bad, isn't it?" Steph asked once they'd all found their seats in the library. Even Alfred was sitting down and that man was always standing to nitpick at some tiny piece of dust daring to fall on a newly polished surface. They never expected to be half carrying Dick to bed and watching his frankly disgusting wound be taken care of. He had this look on his face that none of them could get over. Something in the middle of fear and confusion. If he could forget about something as big as an injury then what could he forget about as Nightwing? 

"So bad," Jason grumbled. "What the fuck was he thinking getting himself so sick?"

"He didn't do it on purpose. You can tell," Duke argued. 

"I know he didn't do it on purpose, Newbie. I'm just fucked off it's happened," he clarified with some venom in his tone. He was worried which was a new look none of them had seen before. This was Jason after all. Of course, it would be stupid to think he didn't care for the eldest. You'd have to have a crude idea of their relationship to think such a thing. It was interesting to see such hard proof of it despite that. 

"I thought you were checking one another over. That was my condition when I stepped back," Alfred announced. He wasn't angry with them but disappointed which made it all the worse to admit that none of them had checked over Dick. 

"He'd check all of us, we assumed he'd check himself," Tim answered. He rubbed his temples trying to think of something that could've signalled them but Dick was a performer and it was hard to point out the act. "I guess he was walking weird when we came back on Wednesday but I assumed he was better by the next day."

"He must've showered," Steph argued. "He had to have seen it."

"He was surprised," Cass pointed out. 

"Ew, he's not showered in a while then."

"Don't say ew Mistress Stephanie. I fear that you may have missed the issue if you focus on the lack of personal hygiene and not what it means," Alfred stated. They all knew it.

"So what do we do?" Duke asked discontent with the idea of leaving the eldest to figure it out himself. As the room remained silent, he came to realize just how hard this was going to be. He sighed and decided to use his place as the most normal person in the group to his advantage. "Alright. Alfred, I'm sorry to ask you of this sir but it may be time you step in as patriarch." The butler nodded with understanding. Although he was nowhere near over the grief, he understood that for now, he needed to take over Dick's role for fear of the acrobat getting worse once he was back on his feet. "The rest of us will take turns caring for him and taking on the work he was doing. If we share it out equally, we'll be golden."

"Once the fever breaks, he won't be easy to manage," Jason warned. "He gets all needy."

"Jason, his father died. Again."

"Well, when you put it like that I sound like a dick."

"That's because you do sound like a dick, Todd. It's not fair to continue to deprive Grayson of his comforts. Especially after what we've said to him in our own pursuits of comfort," Damian argued. This effectively settled the older. "We are to help him. It's the least we can do."