Dick rode the elevator of the private hospital heading back to his ward.  He knew Alfred would be furious, for it had been Alfred who had been on guard duty and who had made the mistake of popping out of the room when Dick had ‘absconded’. 

The elevator doors opened to reveal Damian standing, legs shoulder width apart, arms stapled cross his chest. “What the hell are you doing out of bed?  You only regained consciousness 6 hours ago!”

Dick patted the boy’s head as he stepped out, the distinctive aroma of disinfectant accosting him.  “I had something important to do.”

“Important?  Like what?”

They set off down the corridor towards his room.

“Father’s here. Alfred rang him when you disappeared and left that note.”  A note that had said, ‘Back in an hour’. “He’s waiting in your room.”

“Shit.”  Dick had hoped to return before Bruce got here.  He wasn’t looking forward to the upcoming scene. Glancing down at Damian he asked, “Can you run some interference?”

A scowl melted on the boy’s face, but he nodded without hesitation. “I’ll get him out of there and try to keep him out of the room for as long as I… are you okay? You look unsteady.”

“I admit to being weary and uncomfortable.”  He leaned on Damian who guided him to a chair.   

The boy studied Dick’s face, Damian’s normally controlled features creasing with concern.

“I feel better than I look,” Dick assured.

Damian was unconvinced.

“Go on,” the young man prompted.

“Wait one minute and then come.”

Dick watched him go.  Bruce was going to be pissed - for a number of reasons, not the least of which because he had no control of the situation.  Batman did not cope well when he was not in the driver’s seat – the sole director of the Bat Team and every member of it.

Exactly sixty seconds later, Dick rose, walked to the end of the corridor, and peered around the corner at the door to his room.  At that moment, Bruce and Damian emerged.  God only knew what Damian had said to get Bruce outside.  The pair strode off in silence.

Dick slipped down the hall, eyeing where Damian and Bruce had disappeared.  He entered his room, noting that while the bed hadn’t been remade, his pyjamas, which he had hastily discarded where they had fallen, were now missing.  Opening the drawer next to the bed he found fresh PJs neatly folded with a note in Alfred’s sweeping script tucked in the front.  “When I get my hands on you, I am going to give you a tongue lasing you will never forget.  Love, Alf.” Dick snorted with affection. 

Easing himself down onto the chair, Dick winced and drew in a deep breath to help control the rising discomfort.  He sat for a few seconds contemplating that just perhaps, he should have waited. 

“No,” he murmured aloud. He’d done the right thing. Jason had allowed him to transfer the files.  There was no way of knowing how long the window of opportunity would have remained open.

Exhaling slowing, Dick leaned over to remove his boots but paused at the sound of approaching footsteps.  Damian’s success had been short-lived.

“But Father…”

Bruce exploded into the room; or more correctly, Batman did.  He just didn’t happen to be wearing his cape and cowl.

“It’s not his fault,” Dick stated calmly, without looking up.  He continued to focus on removing his boots.  His energy was fast deserting him and if he didn’t want to cause a scene by face-planting on the floor, he knew he needed to keep going.

“GO!”  Batman’s voice bounced off the walls.  Damian backed out of the room.  He had not seen his father quite this angry before, but then the only time Bruce really lost it was when he was scared – terrified of losing someone he loved. “Where the hell have you been!”

“I went to see Jason.” Dick stated, straightening gingerly. 

“I expect this sort of foolish behaviour from Damian!  Not you!”

Dick reached out for Bruce. “Help me up.” Bruce assisted Dick to his feet.  “Can we do this another time? I feel zapped.”

“You know the rules!” The older man’s voice echoed. He had passed the point of rational thought and was repelling borders.  Batlogic would have to run its course, Dick knew. “You could have passed out and we wouldn’t have known where you were!” 

Grayson unzipped his leather jacket and started to shed it, Bruce moving behind him and dragging it off him before slinging it onto the chair.

The discomfort in Dick’s back was beginning to spread, the light ache moving from uncomfortable to a slow burn. “First, Oracle not only can, but does track my phone, so you knew exactly where I was.”  Dick lifted his t-shirt halfway, but the stiches in his back bit and he froze. 

Bruce lifted the garment over his head and then checked the bandage for bleeding.

“Second, I let Donna know where I was headed.”

“Donna? Donna! Donna is not a part of this team! Why didn’t you call Oracle, or Tim or me?”  The eyes glaring at Dick were beyond simple rage. 

“Because they would have reported to you, and this is exactly the reaction I would have got!” Dick spat back in frustration, panting just a little. 

“You acted recklessly!”  Dick undid his jeans, pulled them down and leaned on Bruce again as he stepped out of them. Bruce whipped them off the floor and flung them onto the chair, physically taking out his anger on the defenceless garments rather than Dick.

“You’re weak.  What would have happened if someone had attacked you!” he roared.

They were standing toe to toe, glaring at each other – Dick in his underwear. “Interestingly enough, the only person who attacks me without my mask is you!” 

“Don’t go there,” Bruce snarled, grabbing the pyjama top from the bed, threading it on to Dick’s arms and then standing back as Dick attempted to button it with trembling fingers. Batting the younger man’s inept hands away, he took over.  “You risked your life unnecessarily.”

“And as we have discussed before – multiple times - I decide when, where and who I risk my life for. Not you!”

“It doesn’t work that way!” Bruce finished the buttons and crouched, holding out the long cotton pyjama pants. 

“You mean you don’t want it to work that way. I’m not your junior partner anymore. Hell, how many times have we had this argument!” Dick’s own anger was right on the edge. He placed his hands on Bruce’s shoulders, stepped into the trousers and then started staggering sideways, until Bruce reached up and righted him.

The two were glowering at each other when, without warning, Dick smirked and then started to chuckle.

Bruce eyed him perplexed as he rose to his feet, pulling the pyjama pants up with him.

“You and I could sell tickets to this comedy act,” Dick whispered.

“What?” 

Dick inclined his head to the orderly Damian was successfully preventing from entering. Not surprisingly, the hospital worker looked totally baffled by the farcical scene.  The two men in front of him were bellowing at each other, but the words and tone in no way matched the tender and caring actions accompanying them.

“I apologise for our behaviour.  Can you give us some privacy?” Bruce requested, his voice dropping to a civil volume.  The orderly flashed Damian a bewildered look and then deciding Dick was in no danger, left.

Now in his pyjamas, Dick turned away from Bruce, shutting his eyes.  Combatting fatigue had been the focus of his battle until that moment.  The manageable pain was starting to pulse making it more difficult to think.  Clearly the last of the painkillers fed into his system via the drip he’d removed over an hour earlier, had finally run out.  He grimaced, his lips turning blue for a split second as he pressed them together firmly.

“If you want to work for… with me then…”  Bruce’s voice wafted from behind Dick.

“I was flying solo.”

“YOU’RE IMPOSSIBLE.”

Dick smirked, glanced back over his shoulder, and stated, “Thank you.”

“That was not meant to be a compliment!” the older man barked

“Yeah, but you know how much I love to piss you off.”  Pain was drawing level with the exhaustion, now.

“For God’s sake, Dick.  You only just had surgery.” With great care, Bruce turned Dick around and assisted him to sit down on the edge of the bed.  It was clear Grayson’s weakened legs weren’t going to hold him much longer. “It could have waited.”

“No, it couldn’t,” Dick argued, matching Bruce’s firm tone. “I’ve tried to reach out to Jason dozens of times but he’s shut me out.  He made the first move this time.”

Bruce swept the tubes to the side… tubes that had carried pain medication to the injured man before he had removed them to go gallivanting around the city!  “You should have waited,” Wayne growled, helping the enervated patient to slide back into the centre of the bed.

“He didn’t need to respond to Oracle’s call, Bruce, but he did.” Dick reached for Bruce’s arm to steady himself.  “I couldn’t let it pass. I wanted to… connect with him before he did too much reflecting.”

“Reflecting?  He’s unpredictable at the best of times.  Always has been and that has increased ten-fold since the pit.”  Bruce waited, giving Dick a moment to catch his breath before moving him again.

“But he came,” Dick argued. Why couldn’t Bruce see?  “He had a choice, and he chose to come.”

Bruce took Dick by the shoulders and guided him to lay down.  “A perpetual problem.  He’s never followed orders and made his own choices - back then, and he does now.”

“Did he Bruce?” Dick wheezed, now angry again himself.  “He was just a kid and we abandoned him.”

“NOT WHAT HAPPENED!  As you well know! And he isn’t a kid, now.  He’s 18.  A man.  A man who only a few months ago tried to kill you. And just to be clear, if anyone abandoned him, it was me, not you.” Adjusting the pillows behind Dick’s head, Bruce noticed the dreadful insipid grey clinging to the injured man’s face. A moment ago, he’d only been pale. “Damn. Damian.” The boy, who had remained on sentry duty, stepped inside.  “Get a nurse to reconnect these tubes.” 

The boy flicked his eyes to Dick who nodded reassurance, and then disappeared.

Bruce pulled the sheets up over Dick and started tucking them around him.

Dick draped an arm across his forehead and stared up at the ceiling above him, desperately needing Bruce to understand.  “I knew it was a risk leaving the hospital so soon after surgery but…I had to go. We may not have got another opportunity like this.” Dick squirmed uncomfortably, shutting his eyes briefly to get on top of the roaring ache that was now radiating to every part of body.

Bruce frowned, removed Dick’s arm and laid his hand on his brow.  “You’re warm.”

“Jason’s receptive.  He just allowed me to transfer the therapy file to his phone.  I...” Dick swallowed hard.

“Easy,” Bruce comforted, moving his hand to the crown of his son’s head.  Dick’s dark hair stood out in stark contrast to his complexion which matched the white pillow on which he was resting. Concern and the fact Bruce was just beginning to understand Dick’s motives, drained the anger, but then it had never really been anger. It had been a manifestation of his helplessness.

“I think he’s trying to make his way back even if he isn’t aware of it.”  Abruptly, Dick’s face shadowed as a tidal wave of agony crashed. 

“Dick?”

 Grayson squeezed his eyes shut, his back rising off the sheets.

“Dick!” Bruce’s baritone rose sharply.

Dick blinked a few times and his lips drained of any remaining colour as he collapsed back against the bed.  “I think… I may have… overdone it.”  He swallowed again and searched for Bruce amongst the swirling images above him. A single breathy word followed, revealing just how much pain he was in. “Dad?” 

That word hit Wayne like a thunderbolt.  He reacted immediately, slamming the emergency call button on the wall. Dick used that word rarely; only when his mind was clouded with physical exhaustion or intolerable pain.  Gripping his boy’s shoulder firmly with his left hand, he positioned his right in the middle of the young man’s chest, moving it in circles to provide comfort.  “Hang on, son.” 

A nurse rushed into room; Damian hot on her heals.

“We need a doctor.  NOW!” Bruce roared.

Damian raced to Dick’s side, his eyes wide with concern.  “Father?”  Dick’s condition had deteriorated considerably in the seconds since he’d left.

The nurse rushed to the other side of the bed and began to take Dick’s pulse.

“I knew the risks, Bruce.  I had to try,” Dick explained weakly. 

A doctor and a male nurse dashed into the room, this second nurse making the mistake of trying to move Bruce out of the way.  He pushed. Bruce Wayne didn’t budge.  The other man blinked, stunned.

“For Jason’s sake… I had… to…”

“I understand.  Just hang on.  Help’s here.”  Only then, did Bruce step back and despite being ordered from the room, he planted himself one step back from the bed – the look on his face halting the medial staff from again suggesting that he leave.

Frustratingly, Bruce did understand what Dick had done and why, perhaps better than Dick did himself.  Dick had never given up on Jason.  Not that Bruce had, but at some point, around the time Jason had tried to kill Tim, Bruce had recognised that the young man who had emerged from the Lazarus Pit was not the boy who had died at the hands of the Joker. 

Dick, on the other hand, had both a faith in the human spirit Bruce simply didn’t share and an ability to forgive without rancour.  Both strengths in most cases, but Bruce feared that Dick was blinkered in this case. Then again, Dick connected with people on a level Bruce couldn’t - felt things that Bruce didn’t.  At the time, Bruce had done everything he could and while he had cared for Jason - truly cared - he and the boy had never seen eye to eye.

Bruce indicated for Damian to leave to make more space in the crowded hospital ward. “Call Alfred, Barbara and Tim… and Donna.”

The boy nodded and shot out into the hall, grateful to have something constructive to do.

Overcome with powerlessness, Bruce watched as the doctor examined Dick for several minutes, finally giving firm orders to the nurses to replace and then reconnect the tubes and wires as further surgery did not appear necessary.  The female nurse handed the doctor a syringe which he injected directly into Dick’s arm.

“That will help with the pain until the drip starts working again.  Under no circumstances are you to touch the tubes.  Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Dick whispered. 

The grey-haired doctor glanced at Bruce.  “He’ll be okay.  Doesn’t look like there’s any damage, but he has to rest.”

Bruce breathed out with relief and stepped back to Dick’s bedside. “Thank you, doctor. I’ll beat him senseless if he tries to get out of that bed again.” 

Dick’s eyes were closed. Bruce placed his hand in the middle of his son’s chest and then sank down into the chair.

“Bruce?”  Dick’s hand lifted and settled over Bruce’s.  He curled his fingers around the huge hand that had saved his life so many times. Blinking, he looked sideways and noted the concern in the other’s face.  “I’m okay,” he reassured.  “Pain’s easing.  Just tired.  You understand why I went?”

“Yes.  Now rest, son.”  Dick nodded, finally content that Bruce comprehended his reasoning. His heavy eyelids slid closed.

Bruce shook his head in frustration.  He desperately wanted to be annoyed, but how could he be?  Dick hadn’t acted recklessly as it had first appeared.  He’d acted selflessly, weighing up the consequences of leaving his hospital bed and then made a conscious and rational decision to act… to risk his own health to save someone he saw as family.

Bruce looked down on Dick’s ashen face and his chest swelled with pride. Of all the good he had ever done in this life, Dick was the best of it.  If there was even the slimmest hope of saving Jason, Dick would take it, even if it meant dying in the process - but that was something Bruce could not allow to happen. 

Choosing one son over another was a decision no father should ever have to make, but Bruce needed to act to protect his entire family from Jason, whether Dick liked it or not.  Yes, he would work to save Jason too – do whatever it took - but not by endangering his other three sons; all of whom had been targets of Jason in the past.

Bruce uncurled Dick’s limp fingers and tucked his arm under the sheets. His son’s breathing had evened out indicating he had finally slipped off to sleep. 

When Dick recovered, they were headed for a heated discussion.  They’d had several over the years, Dick always staunchly defending Todd.  The problem was, Jason was unstable and unpredictable – not Jason’s fault – but it didn’t change the fact that he was a danger both to himself and anyone around him.  Bruce would order Dick not to engage with Jason further; at least, not until Batman was certain it was safe. 

The time had come to protect Dick from his own loyal and selfless nature and to end his crusade before it got out of hand.