Work Text:
“It’s the middle of the night, why are you up?”
“Why are you up?”
Bruce sighs. “I don’t have school tomorrow morning.” They’ve been back from patrol for two hours. Surely Dick should be sleeping by now. Instead, he’s standing in the living room, looking kind of twitchy.
“You have work,” the teenager replies. “That’s worse.”
“Work I can show up to at any time. I’m the CEO, remember?” He’s seriously considering the point of debating the fifteen-year-old. It’s pointless to try to make a point with Dick when he has something in his head.
Dick grumbles something and goes toward the kitchen. Bruce watches silently as he gets himself a glass of water, drinks it, and moves back to the stairs.
“Is everything okay?”
“Fine. I just wanted a glass of water.”
Bruce doesn’t say anything. Dick has a bathroom next to his room, he didn’t have to come downstairs for water, and they both know it. But he knows better than to push. Nowadays, it would just end up in a screaming match.
He doesn’t think about it much until the next night.
He’s actually sleeping, this time, until his reflexes and training wake him up.
There’s someone in the room with him. He barely opens his eyes, not giving the intruder any signs that he’s awake, and relaxes when he sees Dick. The teenager seems slightly out of breath, slightly sweaty, like he just came back from a run. He stands in the doorway maybe ten minutes before leaving.
Bruce tries to think of the best way to confront him, but Dick is already gone for school when he wakes up the next day. He has started taking the bus more and more to school, these days. It’s part of his independence path, and Bruce knows these transports are safe… well, as safe as they can be in Gotham. He had been the one to push for public transit in the city, after all. It’s good that his ward is showing the example.
Dick seems like his usual self for the evening and as focused as he should be on patrol.
Maybe, Bruce thinks, he’s just having nightmares. Dick had a lot of night terrors as a child, something else he shared with Bruce, according to Alfred. Something that, Bruce knows, reduces with age, when trauma and grief recedes, or when one grows around them, according to the analogy one of the numerous therapists he’d seen as a teen has used. But, much like trauma and grief, Bruce knows all too well it never really disappears.
The next night, he pretends to sleep. He lays in his bed, eyes on the door. And, sure enough, he hears footsteps. They’re almost silent, like Dick is trying to not wake him up, but still in a hurry. Bruce stays quiet as Dick appears in the doorway, looking worse than the day before. He stays quiet as Dick watches him, eyes sharp and focused. He stays quiet as Dick leans in the doorway.
But when Dick’s legs give out and he crumbles to the floor, he can’t stay quiet.
He’s up in an instant, running next to Dick. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
Dick shakes his head. “It’s nothing, I’m fine. It’s stupid. Just nightmares.”
So, as Bruce figured. He’s ready to say it’s not stupid, it’s something that happens after a horrible traumatic event and never goes away, and what they do every night doesn’t help. But, as he’s trying to comfort him, his hand finds Dick’s sweaty forehead, and all he can say is, “You’re burning up.”
Night terrors shouldn’t give a fever.
“It’s fine,” Dick says, and Bruce has all sorts of alarm bells going off in his brain. “Fever will be gone in the morning.”
“You can’t possibly know that.”
“I can. That’s how it works.”
Bruce takes Dick by the shoulders and turns him, perhaps with more strength than necessary. “What do you mean? How long has this been going on?”
Dick looks at the floor, like he’s trying to study the pattern on the wood. “Nightmares have been there for a week. The fever thing started two days ago.”
So, whatever this is, it’s getting worse. A week ago… Dick had been exposed to fear toxin, then, but the antidote had been administered. Bruce thought this was behind them.
Apparently not. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Surely, Dick would have made the link himself.
“I’m not stupid. I know it’s linked to fear toxin. I’ve been studying the new strain, and my blood. I thought…”
He doesn’t need to finish. He thought he could find the solution before Bruce noticed anything was wrong. “That night in the living room? Were you going to the cave?”
Dick’s cheeks go red in a way that isn’t linked to the fever. “I was looking for you, actually. You weren’t in your room.”
Bruce grunts. “Next time something like this happens, tell me. That’s what being partners means.”
He helps Dick up as the teenager mutters, “You wouldn’t tell me if something like this happened to you.”
“Yes, I would,” Bruce lies. “Now if you think you can go back to sleep, go get some rest.”
Thankfully, Dick let himself be walked back into his room and eventually in his bed. Bruce stays there for a moment, watching him.
How many things like this has Dick been hiding from him, solved on his own? He’s not sure he wants to know the answer.
Has he failed that badly as a guardian?
Like Dick said, the fever is gone by morning.
Bruce doesn’t stop him from going to school, nor does he stop him from patrolling. Some part of him tells him he should, with the sudden bouts of night fever, but he also knows Dick will take it as a punishment, which will potentially lead to more hiding.
He lets him go on patrol, but he spends the night with worry pooling in his stomach. As they reach the cave, Dick is still fine. He looks tired, which is to be expected if he’s been having nightmares for a week, but when Bruce forces him to do a scanner, his vital signs are stable. No sign of illness of any kind.
“Show me the research you’re already done of this strain of fear toxin,” Bruce, no, Batman orders.
Dick seems to hesitate, he seems to want to argue that he can do it himself, and Bruce is sure he can, but Robin knows better than to argue.
“It’s really not that much of a big deal,” he still says as he moves toward the computer. Bruce thinks it is, especially with Alfred away in England. If it comes to a medical emergency, they won’t have a medic at home, like they usually do.
But Alfred traveled to go to an old friend’s funeral, so Bruce knows better than to bother him unless it’s absolutely necessary.
“You did good work,” Bruce says as he opens the files, because it’s true. This is excellent work, like Robin’s often is. “Get some rest.”
“I’m fine,” Dick says, and now that he’s paying closer attention, Bruce can clearly see this is wrong. He’s not as bad as he was last night, but what’s happening is clearly taking a toll on his body.
“Get some rest,” Bruce repeats. Dick says something, too low for Bruce to hear, but goes upstairs, and Bruce starts looking at the gathered data. He’s trying to see something Dick might have missed, cross-referencing with the previous fear toxin formulas he knows about, Scarecrow’s possible allies, and the latest advancement made by academics and industrial researchers on the subject.
He's fully into his research when he hears a sound behind him. “B?”
Bruce turns back so fast he almost falls. “Dick. Is everything okay?” The teenager is at the bottom of the steps, shaking, out of breath.
“Just… wanted to see where you were. I’m fine,” Dick says, before promptly collapsing to the floor.
Bruce is at his side in one instant, but not fast enough to prevent him from hitting the hard ground of the cave. Thankfully, Dick manages to fall on his knees and hands, then lowers himself on his side, protecting his head, but Bruce winces in sympathy nonetheless.
“Talk to me,” Bruce says, praying to whoever might listen that Dick is still conscious. “Symptoms.”
“I’m fine.” Dick’s voice is weak, but Bruce feels like he can breathe again. “Just the fever.”
“I am going to carry you. Don’t fight me.”
Dick hums, and closes his eyes. Heart hammering in his chest, Bruce gets Dick to the scanning area.
His vital signs are… well, his vital signs are what could be expected of a teenager with a 104-degree fever. Bruce looks at the number in disbelief.
Two hours. Two hours ago, Dick had been perfectly fine.
“I’m fine,” Dick says. “It will be gone in the morning.”
Bruce curses under his breath. This is… there is no way it’s normal.
“I’m fine now,” Dick repeats. “Help me back to my room?”
Bruce wants to argue. He wants to tell Dick to stay here, down in the cave, where Bruce will be able to watch over him. But… all the other nights, Dick had gone back to his room, and the fever was gone by morning. He doesn’t dare disturb that order.
“Okay,” he says, and he gathers the shivering teen in his arms.
“Sorry,” Dick says, as Bruce’s knees crack a little under the weight of his burden.
Bruce just shakes his head. Dick is heavier than he was at eight, but he’s still small. With all the acrobatic training he had from a young age, Bruce wouldn’t be surprised if he never grew up much. It doesn’t hit him much when they’re on the field. He knows Dick is smaller than him, but Robin always seems… not tall, but taller than the boy in his arms right now.
Dick groans. “Quit looking at me like that. I’m fine.”
Bruce just hums as they reach the bedroom.
“It’s okay,” Dick says once he’s back in his bed. “You can go back downstairs. I’ll be fine in the morning, remember?”
Bruce says until Dick asleep. Then, he goes back to the cave. He has work to do.
He has work to do, but he finds himself waking up in the cave in the morning, his neck aching. He curses himself.
Given the time, Dick is probably already at school. But something is off when he reaches the main part of the manor. He can’t really point out what, but it makes him climb up the stairs to Dick’s room.
He opens the door to find Dick still in his bed, sleeping. His heart skips a beat. He could have just slept through his alarms. It could be just…
All his hopes are shattered when he reaches the bedside. Dick’s face is flushed, his forehead covered in sweat, his breathing fast.
It’s morning, and the fever didn’t break.
“Dick,” Bruce says, shaking him gently. “Wake up.”
Dick wakes up with a stat, his hand gripping Bruce’s wrist, eyes wide with fear.
“I’m here,” he says. “It was a nightmare.”
Dick takes a deep breath, then another. Bruce recognizes his own grounding technique. “Shit,” he finally says. “I slept through my alarm?”
“It’s safe to say you’re not going to school today.”
Dick nods. “Fever?”
He’s not asking if he has a fever. Bruce knows he’s realized that already. “I didn’t check how high it is, but it’s probably safe to take some meds for it. I don’t know why it’s still here when it’s morning.”
Dick swallows. Once, then twice. “I might have a theory,” he says in a small voice.
Bruce doesn’t say anything, just pressures him with a look to speak his mind. “The dreams are… uhng. Never mind. It’s stupid.”
“Dick,” Bruce says, stonily. “We’re partners, remember? If you have a hint, you can’t hide it.” Not when the stakes are that high.
“The fever started the night I couldn’t find you in your room and went to the living room. Last night, you weren’t in your room either. Maybe… it’s getting worse when I can’t find you.”
Bruce pushes back the guilt. He needs to be rational. He needs to be Batman. Be Batman and save Robin.
Dick got worse because he couldn’t find him. Bruce believes the theory, and he doesn’t need to ask what was in the dreams that got him to that conclusion.
Dick got worse because he couldn’t find him. Bruce feels his heart break a little. “You’re coming to the cave with me. If this is true, I’m not letting myself out of your sight.” Nor is he letting Dick out of his.
Dick nods. “Okay,” he says. “Let me take a shower, first. Don’t come with me.” The joke falls flat.
Bruce lets him shower and change out of his pajamas, and then they move to the cave. Dick can walk, but he’s slow. Bruce tries not to watch him too much, aware of how fast Dick can snap. He’s not sure how much he succeeds, given that Dick mutters, “I’m not made of glass,” when he sits next to the Batcomputer.
Bruce wants to tell him to go lay in the cot rather than work, but he knows two things. The first one is that Dick is stubborn, and would not accept being told to stay on the sidelines of a case. The second one is that Robin is damn smart, the case is time sensitive, and two brains work better than one.
He’s proven right early in the afternoon when they find a trail for a chemist who worked with Scarecrow on this specific strain.
“I’ll go interrogate him tonight,” Bruce says. “Will you be okay?”
Dick nods. He’s taken everything Bruce dared to give him in terms of meds, but he’s still shivering, his T-shirt clinging to his back with sweat. “I’ll be fine,” he says. “I’ll stay awake the whole time.” He closes his eyes.
“Then you better rest now.”
Dick opens his eyes to give him an annoyed look.
“Chum,” Bruce says. “I’m not going anywhere. Get some rest.”
Dick groans, and then slowly moves from the computer to the medical area. He pushes a cot so it’s right next to the Batcomputer and he can see Bruce. He then climbs in it.
“Wake me up if you find anything new,” he says.
Bruce starts working. He gets the chemist’s address and ensures himself that he’s home tonight. He’s working on his plans to get him to talk when Dick starts screaming.
It’s sudden. One second, all Bruce hears is a labored breathing, the purring of the computer and the movement of the bats above him. The next, a desperate screech, almost animalistic, tears through the cave.
Bruce is at Dick’s side in a second. Has it been that bad all the times he wasn’t there, as well?
“I’m here,” he says. “I’m here, chum. You’re not alone.”
“B?” Dick asks in a voice that is so small, so broken, that Bruce finds himself pulling him to his chest, holding him in a tight hug. If he was in his normal state, Dick would resist the embrace, but he just lets himself be held. He doesn’t hug Bruce back, but he doesn’t push him away, either.
“I’m here,” Bruce repeats, uselessly.
“But you won’t be.”
Bruce swallows. “I’ll leave later tonight,” he says. “But I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
“No,” Dick says. “One day-” and Bruce feels his heart missing a bit when he hears a sob above his shoulder. “One day, you’ll leave and you won’t come back. Like they did.”
Bruce holds him tighter. He can’t promise he will stay forever. He knows what he does is dangerous, much more, even, than what Dick’s parents did. “I’m here now. I’m with you.”
Dick starts crying. Bruce had seen him cry plenty of times, when he was a child. But this is different. Dick is a teenager, he values his independence more than anything. And he’s sobbing into Bruce’s shoulder.
“I’m going to find a cure. I’m going to save you,” Bruce promises. He keeps saying words, and Dick keeps sobbing until he eventually falls back asleep.
The night has started when Dick wakes up again. “B?” he asks.
Bruce turns. “How are you feeling?”
Dick hums. He looks at the IV Bruce had put up. It’s just fluids, and some acetaminophen, but he hopes it can help. “Shouldn’t you go?” Dick asks. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
Dick either doesn’t want to talk about or doesn’t remember what happened.
“Would you be okay if I go?”
Dick waves an arm. “I’m not made of glass,” he repeats, maybe not even realizing he said the same thing that morning. “Go.”
Bruce puts his hand on Dick’s forehead, lingers a bit on his cheek. “I’ll have my comm on me. Stay awake. I mean it.”
“I will,” Robin, not Dick, replies. And there it is. His inflexible will.
Batman trusts Robin. So, he goes.
Batman trusts Robin but Bruce feels like he’s the one in a dream. He speeds through the city, finds the scientist. Pushes him around with maybe more strength than necessary.
And when the man cries that he didn’t have a choice, that his son was in danger, Bruce’s first thought is that that doesn’t give him the right to hurt someone else’s son.
He almost says it. He doesn’t. Dick isn’t his son. He won’t insult the Graysons’ memory by thinking of him that way.
Dick isn’t his son, but he woke up screaming, crying about losing him just like he lost his parents. Dick isn’t his son, but this poison is getting worse every time he looks for Bruce and Burce isn’t there.
“Give me the antidote,” Batman says. The man’s pants are soiled, but Bruce can’t find it in himself to care. No matter how scared the man is, there is a teenager who woke up a few hours ago, even more scared. A teenager who is waiting for Batman, for Bruce to come back with a cure.
The scientist finally gets to work.
When Bruce rushes back into the cave, Dick is sitting up on the cot, but he moved while Bruce was away. He apparently got his stuffed elephant from wherever it was, and is holding it tight.
“I’m still awake,” he repeats like a mantra. “I’m still awake.”
“You are,” Bruce says, not sure if Dick even sees him. He gets next to him, holds him against his chest and injects the cure in the IV. “I’m back. I’m here. I’m not leaving you.”
Bruce repeats the words until he feels Dick relaxing. He knows the fever might linger a bit, and Dick will be tired for a few days, still, but he doesn’t seem in distress anymore.
“I’m here,” Bruce repeats. “I’m not leaving you.”
Dick’s voice is clear, stable, and definitely cognizant when he replies, “You can’t promise that.”
Bruce just holds him tighter.
Dick is right.
He can’t.