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Buckle Up (its gonna be a bumpy ride) - writergeek - Batman - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]
Of all the blasted cars at the intersection, the hijacker had to choose theirs. Typical Gotham luck. Except that they are also Waynes (and vigilantes). This is not going to end well.
BTHB: Hijacked Vehicle and for @batfam-big-bang
~~~~
In this family, luck is a funny thing.
There’s Gothamite luck, which let’s face it, can be truly awful. (Or maybe it just has a rather dramatic sense of timing.)
And then there’s Wayne luck, which (depending on the day) can always go either way.
Add to that the ol’ Grayson luck, and sometimes it makes Dick wonder why he gets out of bed.
Oh.
That’s right.
He’s a Bat.
Quitting isn’t a word in his dictionary.
Unknown Origins - Chapter 24 - writergeek - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]
A moment to breathe and relax in the chaos.
~~~~~~
Jason goes over and settles himself in the chair that Bruce vacated, the comfortable armchair sitting beside the bed. It’s not often that he gets to sit beside Dick’s bed, especially when Dick’s sick. Usually, that role is taken up by Bruce, Alfred, or one of his siblings.
Dick’s eyes flutter and open.
He grins at his older brother. “Hey there, sleeping beauty.”
“Hey,” Dick says breathily, looking and sounding more awake than Jason expected.
Huh. “Out of curiosity, how much of that did you hear?”
Dick looks chagrined. “About the part where you snapped your fingers.”
Ooops. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
Dick shrugs one shoulder. “I was already stirring. No biggie.”
“At least you sound better than you did earlier today.”
Dick huffs into the oxygen mask. “Huh. I sound as good as I feel then.”
“Like roadkill?”
Dick takes a moment to think. “Maybe reanimated roadkill, I dunno, it’s been a long day already.”
He looks at his watch and winces. “Dude, the day has barely started.”
Dick looks at his brother steadily. “Your point?”
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Unknown Origins - Chapter 23 - writergeek - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]
Jason and Damian have a discussion about the difference in meaning between shown and shown when it comes to poisons.
~~~~~~
Dick falls asleep shortly after that, obviously wiped out from the discussion. So everyone takes it as their cue to disperse, making quiet noises about all the things they have to do today.
All except Bruce, that is, who settles back down into the chair beside Dick’s bed.
And Damian, who remains rooted in his spot with arms crossed and glaring at Bruce.
Damian has things to do today, and school is not going to be one of them.
His father sees him and seems to know instantly he’s in for a fight. Good. He’s not budging on this. “Yes, Damian?”
Damian firms his stance and squares his shoulders. “I am not going to school.” He has a list of reasons, each one stronger than the others, but they all boil down to this: he will not let Richard fight this poison alone.
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Unknown Origins - Chapter 22 - writergeek - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]
Jason sucks in a breath. He’s suddenly realizing that he stupidly hasn’t told anyone about his suspicions of the poison’s origins. No time like the present, right? “I think… I, uh, I think it may be a League of Assassins poison.”
~~~~~~
One of Alfred’s rules is that if a family member is in town, they attend a meal with the family. Or have a valid excuse why not, and said excuses are only valid if they include universe-shaking events or health crises.
Seeing as Dick is the one laid up in bed, he bends the rule of having the nightly meal together to breakfast in Dick’s room in the medical suite, so that his eldest grandchild won’t feel left out. And so Dick will at least be able to see everyone all at once.
It’s only fair, he figures. Dick’s been the one most inconvenienced by this… illness, so it’s only fair that the rest of them bend to meet him.
And this way everyone will get their dose of family time and Dick time, and everyone will be happy.
Usually, he tries to make something hearty and protein-rich for breakfast, knowing as he does that this is a meal that has to fuel his family through hours of school or work, and then being a vigilante at night. But he also knows that today, everyone’s schedule has been thrown off a little. Especially since Bruce really did stick to his determination of not going out if the signal gets lit.
So this morning he made something he considers light and basic. Porridge with brown sugar, raisins, and a bit of milk, with fruit salad on the side for those who don’t want porridge. Easily thrown together, and easily eaten in bowls. He’s prepared one for Dick too, but he’s also prepared a lighter, blander meal of broth just in case he’s still feeling nauseous after the seizure. After all, he can always use the uneaten oatmeal in biscuits or muffins, or something.
Waste not, want not, and all that.
Jason bangs his way into the Manor’s kitchen just as he’s doing the last preparations for breakfast. “Hi, Alf. Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious as always.”
He can’t help but smile at the compliment. “Ah, Master Jason. You’re just in time to help me.”
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Unknown Origins - Chapter 21 - writergeek - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]
The next time he wakes, Bruce is still here.
~~~~~~
The next time Dick wakes, Bruce is still here.
Still.
He did not leave.
This… feels important, although he can’t think of why. He just knows it is.
But trying to grasp that thought tires him out. Or maybe it’s keeping his eyes open.
He slips back under.
The next time Dick wakes, Bruce is still here.
Or maybe he never left.
No. That doesn’t make sense. Of course Bruce left. (He always leaves.) He stares at him for a while, trying to make sense of it.
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Unknown Origins - Chapter 20 - writergeek - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]
Aftermath of both the seizure and the antidote. (But what comes from the seizure and what comes from the antidote?)
~~~~~~
Dick sleeps.
Taking the watch from Alfred isn’t entirely altruistic, Bruce knows.
He’s been largely absent throughout this entire ordeal, leaving the management of everything to Alfred and to Jason. Not through choice, but mostly through circumstance.
At first, it was because he’d been asleep, for once, after an aborted patrol. Then he’d had to go to work and take Damian to and from school, not to mention the quick trip into Bludhaven. And then he’d had to go do a quick patrol. And then when he’d come back, he’d run tests, and then he’d spent time down in the Cave, doing his best to synthesize an antidote.
He’d come up with the antidote (or at least, a version of one) perhaps just in time… but it still felt like he’d been doing everything but see his son while he was sick.
Perhaps he had been, subconsciously.
He’d never done well with seeing weakness in others. He’s always seen it as a flaw, as something he can exploit.
It’s the machine in his skull, always moving, churning, never resting, even when he wishes it would stopandshut up and give him a moment’s peace.
But it’s his curse to bear, isn’t it?
He’s trying to do better.
It’s why he’s here, after all. Sitting at his son’s bedside instead of handling the paperwork from work, or preparing for a patrol tonight.
He chooses to do this.
And sometimes that has to be enough.
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Unknown Origins - Chapter 19 - writergeek - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]
The wave surges. (It will not break. Not yet.) (Not without help.)
~~~~~~~
There is little Alfred can do as the afternoon progresses.
It is just him here at the Manor. Everyone else is away, and it’s just him holding down the fort.
Bruce is downstairs, researching. Tim is at work. Steph and Cass are in the city, chasing down leads and preparing for nightwork. Damian is at school, and he wouldn’t wish this vigil on the young one besides. Jason is hunting down contacts to try and track this… poison.
Maybe if they can get a sample of the original poison, it’ll help them manufacture a more accurate antidote. At the moment, all his hopes rest on the antidote Bruce is working on.
Because it’s clear this is not a one-time thing. Not some sort of cold or virus, easily shrugged off.
They’re going to be here for the long haul.
He changes the cold compresses throughout the afternoon. Checks and double-checks that the cooling blanket is working. Gives him painkillers as best he can when they’re due.
More than that, of course, requires an extra person. He’s willing to try a tepid bath, but he needs someone to watch Dick as the bath is being drawn, someone to help him get Dick into the bath (Dick is many things, but he is not light or easy to carry), and then out…
There are medications he could try, of course, but he’d rather see if they can get through this without resorting to such things. Unless the fever hits 105 of course, then he might have to reconsider…
They might even have to reconsider keeping Dick here at the Manor if this cycle continues. There’s only so much they can do to treat a fever, after all.
So he does what he can and worries and frets.
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Unknown Origins - Chapter 18 - writergeek - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]
It’s just like Jason said. This thing comes in waves.
~~~~~~~
The day is quiet after that.
Quiet also means boredom, so there is that.
The trouble is that this room isn’t exactly set up for convalescing. Not really.
Dick knew that going to the medical suite meant he was basically exchanging the monitors of the infirmary for the upstairs monitors. He knew going into this that there wouldn’t be much entertainment. If any.
The last time they used this room was… Wasn’t it when they’d had an outbreak of the Clench? Maybe?
Damn, he wasn’t sure.
He looks around idly, trying to see if he could see something to pass the time with.
His own spare electrical devices were in his room, so that would be out. Unless he could convince Alfred to bring them.
And then his eyes alight on the table on the opposite side of the room, and what he’s fairly sure is a spare Kindle. It looks to be in a brown cover, which means it’s one not claimed by anybody. The problem is, it’s on the opposite side of the room.
Right.
So if he wants to be entertained, he has to get up and get it. Or wait for someone to come in the room and ask them to get it for him. Or, better still, get something from his room.
Judging by the conversations he just had with everyone, he doubts that that’ll happen until later this afternoon, maybe even the evening.
Dammit.
He waits as long as he can manage before he gets bored enough that he decides to try the standing thing again.
Yeah, it hurt last time, but that was probably because he waited in place too long. He just has to be careful but quick. Keep moving. Don’t stay in one spot. He can totally do this.
He can.
It’ll be fine.
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Unknown Origins - Chapter 28 - writergeek - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]
The family gathers around the meal table and talks. Discoveries and breakthroughs are made.
~~~~~
The first thing Bruce does is head to the kitchen to make a much-belated lunch.
Cereal. He can manage cereal. Or toast. Toast is always an option.
Except he doesn’t have to, because Alfred is already there, stirring something at the counter. He blinks. “Alfred. You’re up.” He hadn’t seen Alfred for a while, so he’d thought Alfred was taking a long-needed nap. After all, by his reckoning, Alfred had been up for about 72 hours, and that was a bit much, even for him.
(He ignores the thought that he should take a nap himself.) (He’ll sleep later.)
“Indeed I am.” Alfred turns just enough to grace him with a small smile before turning back to the bowl. “I thought we could all do with a bit of a late lunch this morning, seeing as everyone seems to be getting a bit of a late start.”
He lets out a relieved breath. “Thanks, Alfred. I’m not sure what we’d ever do without you.”
“Fall in a heap, I imagine. Speaking of, how is the young Master?”
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Unknown Origins - Chapter 27 - writergeek - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]
27. Breaking News
The wave has broken (made to break), discoveries are made and talked about, both within the Manor and elsewhere. That is, the news finally reaches the hero circles that Nightwing is down.
~~~~~~
Dick peels his eyes open. “B?” he whispers.
Bruce smiles at him gently. “That’s me, chum. How are you feeling?”
Like he’s been dragged over three miles of a bad road after being awake for 72 hours. “Tired. Sore.” He shifts a little on the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position. And failing. He’s also clammy enough that he suspects he knows why he’s feeling the way he does. “Did I— Did I have another fever?”
“Yes Dick, you did.”
“Oh.” Lovely. So much for being on the road to recovery. He takes a few deep breaths, and to his dismay, the cannula helps with that a bit more than he’d like. Damn poison. “This sucks.”
“How many fevers have there been?” Steph asks.
“In the last three days or so? Three that we know of,” Bruce answers, giving him a look. Probably worried about him. He’s not surprised. He’s starting to get worried too. “And each one is coming on harder and faster than the last.”
Oh. Damn. He’d suspected, but yeah. “Not good,” he whispers.
“I just wish I knew what was bringing them on,” Bruce says, running a hand through his hair.
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12/12 Smooth Sailing
Healing is a process. But that’s okay. He can see the light at the end of this long tunnel from here.
~~~~~~~
He heals. Slowly. But he heals.
He goes for long walks around the Manor grounds.
Walking, more than all the exercises assigned by Peta, his insane physiotherapist, are what helps him.
So he walks. He walks and he walks and he walks, until it feels like he’s explored all the grounds that he can (safely) reach. And then he walks some more.
He walks during the day. He walks when he can’t sleep, which happens a lot with a body healing from the pain and injuries that come from hitting a truck.
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11. Bumpy Ride
The bumpy ride of recovery, and that it entails.
~~~~~~~~
Eventually, Dick gets to the point where his head only hurts now if he does something stupid. Like staring at screens. Move too fast. Sit. Stand. Breathe.
It’s a change from the unending agony he remembers from before, when his head had competed with his leg for which was the worst.
His left leg usually wins now. Except for when it doesn’t.
Depending on the day (or the hour), he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
Today it’s a good thing. It’s a nice distraction from the pounding in his skull that started earlier today. It’s why he’s lying here in one of the sitting rooms, in the dark, with a cloth over his eyes.
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10. Coming Home
A series of exchanges between the family as they struggle through the hospital stay.
~~~~~~
They swap in and out of the room throughout the next few days (weeks). They’re unfailingly polite to staff – Alfred would have their heads if they weren’t – but that private waiting room becomes their sanctuary within the hospital.
A place where they can be themselves, release the tension of waiting, watching, and seeing nothing change. Or sometimes… seeing their hopes shatter and having to pick them up.
The stack of notes on the table slowly grows, and along with it their notes to each other. A lifeline of sanity and communication in a world turned upside-down.
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9. Rise Up
Tim stands up, and Dick… doesn’t. The differences in recovery start to become clear for the family. (Also, Jason may or may not be struggling with the aftermath of the crash.)
~~~~~~~
Why the doctors think that his brothers can get up so soon, Jason’s really not sure.
He remembers the crash. (He can’t forget.) He remembers what his brothers looked like. (It’s seared behind his eyelids, everytime he closes his eyes he sees it all over again.)
(He just wants it to stop.)
They’re not ready.
He knows that.
But he’s only the brother. He’s not the designated adult in this situation.
No one listens to him.
All he can do is sit on the sidelines and watch.
And be ready to catch them when they inevitably fail.
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Gathering
Bruce gathers his wayward children and makes a few important decisions. Or tries to. It’s been that kind of day. (Week.) (Whatever.)
~~~~~~
By the time Bruce peels himself away from the ICU (by which he means that Alfred kicked him out to shower and change), it’s dark.
He stops at the window and blinks. Stares for a moment.
Wasn’t it just morning a few moments ago?
Where did the day go?
Hells bells, whattimeis it? What day is it?
He pulls out his phone to check and winces. It’s… night, and as he thought, it’s not actually the same day as the crash.
Well, that’s a thing.
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The Awakening
Dick wakes up. Or tries to. It takes him a few goes for this whole ‘being awake’ thing to stick.
~~~~~~
Beeping.
Hissing.
Noises.
Beeping.
So much beeping.
The world fades back in, slowly, trickling in like molasses.
Slow and warm. He’s warm.
He’s lying on something smooth and firm. A bed. He’s lying on a bed.
Beeping. Hissing.
He fades out again.
“—ey Dick, are you awake?”
Is he? He’s not sure. It doesn’t feel like he’s awake.
“C’mon, Dick, wake up, please.”
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Pay The Piper
Sometimes the price of a sacrifice is… more then anticipated. AKA Bruce and Alfred find out how ‘not okay’ Dick actually is.
~~~~~~
After all that is over, Dr. Adu beckons them away from Dick.
Bruce has to force himself to go, has to give Dick’s hand one final squeeze, before he can leave. (Alfred does the same, but on the other side.) (What a matched pair they make.)
They end up in an alcove near the nurses’ station, with comfortable chairs, vending machine, and a small table. Bruce takes one look at the space and thinks that it probably doubles as both a break room for the nurses and a space for visiting families to recharge and catch their breath. (He makes a note to himself to check that the nurses have a private space to themselves on this floor, and then refocuses.) (Later. He can be a responsible businessman later . Now is a time for family.)
“I wanted to talk to you about what to expect for the next 48 to 72 hours for Mr. Grayson,” Dr. Adu begins.
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When his eyes open this time, Tim already knows today’s going to be a bad one.
~~~~~~
Sometimes waking is easy. Sometimes Tim opens his eyes and boom, his brain switches on and he’s awake and he’s ready to face the day.
Other times it’s not so easy. Other times Tim drags himself from sleep like he’s dragging himself out of a swamp (or quicksand) and the muck follows him throughout the day and it’s just awful and not even all the coffee in the world helps and and and and…
He’s not really sure yet what makes the difference between the two. It just is.
When his eyes open this time, he already knows it’s going to be a bad one.
Just opening his eyes feels like it’s taking all his energy, and he’s already dreading the whole moving around thing. If he even gets to that point.
“Tim. You’re awake.”
That is… highly debatable. He stares up at the ceiling for a long moment, trying to bring it into focus. It doesn’t work well, but then he’s not really expecting much.
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Unknown Origins - Chapter 25 - writergeek - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]
Precursor: a person or thing that comes before another; forerunner; a substance from which another is formed.
~~~~~~
Bruce tries his best to nap, he really does.
But even though he was tired in Dick’s room, the moment he lays down his brain absolutely refuses to settle. It’s like this is the signal for his brain to switch on not off.
He’s thinking through everything that’s happened in the last day or so, wondering if there was anything he could have done different. If there was anything he could’ve done to prevent this disaster from happening.
He’s fairly sure there’s not, but that doesn’t stop him from wondering.
(The only thing that he’s certain that would stop it would be if he’d never brought Dick into this life.) (But he also can’t imagine doing anything different on that night. So… not really an option.)
It’s like an endless hamster wheel of ‘what if’s that leads him round and round and round to the same conclusion: this is the situation they’re faced with, and he has to figure out how to deal with it.
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Hope. Sometimes, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.
BTHB: 23: Hope Is Scary@badthingshappenbingoand@batfam-big-bang
~~~~~~
Bruce paces around the Manor.
The problem with being both Batman and Bruce Wayne is that Batman already knows all about what happened to the car, courtesy of Oracle. But Bruce Wayne has not been officially informed and cannot yet act. He cannot leave, not when he’s supposed to be waiting for a ransom call from the hijacker.
A ransom call that now will not come.
But Wayne officially does not know that. Not yetanyway.
Hence the pacing.
They both jump a little when the phone rings, although neither will admit it.
Alfred hurries over and picks it up, telling himself to seem calm, like this is business as usual. “Wayne residence, how may we be of assistance?” Bruce comes over and stands near enough to hear through the handset, bouncing on his heels in agitation.
“Pennyworth. Good.” It’s Gordon on the other end. “Is Wayne there?”
“Yes,” Alfred says, eyeing his shamelessly eavesdropping son with a raised eyebrow. He grins back, acknowledging the social faux pas but not caring. “Would you like to speak to him?”
“Actually,” Gordon hesitates, “is that a phone you can put on speaker?”
Damn. It’s bad news then.
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The immediate aftermath… aka what it means to be a first responder to a sedan crashing into a semi.
~~~~
Jason slams his hand on the steering wheel and curses.
He’sseeing it happen but—
—He can’t stop it.
He’s out of place, too far away to affect the necessary change.
He taps his comm. ”Hood to O, they’re down.”
“This is O, please repeat that.”
He winces and closes his eyes. Some things, he doesn’t want to see. “Semi-truck, out of control.” He swallows when he hears the crunching metal. It’s a sound that he knows is going to stick in his nightmares for weeks. He doesn’t need the extra visuals. “I couldn’t get there in time.”
“Understood, Hood. I’ll pass on the alerts.”
He jerks his (stolen) car to a stop on the shoulder just before the accident. Traffic’s already backing up or trying to figure out a way around, but that’s not his concern. He taps his comm again. “I’m going in.”
“Understood. Keep me posted.”
He turns on the car’s hazard lights and shoves open the door. He does a quick check to see if there’s a first aid kit – of course there’s not, because he’s got the usual Gotham luck tonight – before leaving to approach the crash site.
It’s…
It’s bad.
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He can take the hit. He’ll always take the hit.
~~~~~~
They are Gothamites.
And they are Waynes.
And sometimes… luck is not on their side.
Or it is… but not in the best way.
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