Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hank thought he was starting to get used to this hero-mentoring thing.  It was difficult at times, sure, but he was really starting to care for these kids.  He enjoyed seeing them make progress both in learning to use their powers and in learning to fight without them.  He might even be liking this enough to stop missing going out as Hawk, he thought to himself.  Tried to convince himself, more like.  He and Dawn had decided that his staying on as a mentor for the kids was a good compromise between them – she could still go out as Dove and help the kids in the field, and he could train them here at the Tower.  He knew he couldn’t go out as Hawk again – the risk of falling back into old habits was too great – and he tried valiantly to convince himself he didn’t miss it.  Still, he thought to himself, at least training the kids is something.

With that thought in mind, Hank sat up in bed, making up his mind.  Why not go a few rounds in the training room?  It was late, but he didn’t feel like he was going to get any more sleep anytime soon.  He stood up and got changed, throwing on some workout shorts, a tank top, and a sweatshirt.  He glanced at the form of the still-sleeping Dawn on the other side of the bed and debated whether to wake her.  It might be fun to have a sparring partner, but he was sure she was tired.  It would be better to let her rest; she’d need her strength for whichever bad guys she and the kids went to stop next.  Hank sighed heavily, his mind drifting back to better days for a moment, to back when he and Dawn fought crime together.  But then his mind played back the result of their vigilante adventures, like he was trapped in a movie theater, forced to watch himself heating the heroin, pulling it into the syringe, piercing the soft skin of his inner elbow – he shook his head to clear it, marching from the room with newfound focus.  A good session of solo training was just what he needed right now.

He passed the other doors on his way down the hallway, automatically listening for noises behind each one.  Each of the residents of Titan’s Tower had different sleeping habits, ranging from Donna, who slept like the dead – there was never any noise coming from her room at night – to Rachel, who often woke screaming.  Her room was furthest down the hall, away from the others for that very reason.  Hank paused for a moment, stopping to listen at one door in particular.  Dick’s.  Of all the Titans, Dick was the one most likely to be awake in the early hours of the morning.  That man practically repelled sleep, preferring to grab a few hours here and there, just enough to get by.  Hank doubted the man had ever spent eight hours in a bed at one time, probably not since he was a child, anyway.  Listening at the door, he heard nothing now.  Maybe Dick was actually sleeping.  Maybe he was on a run.  Or maybe he’s out on the streets, beating up every criminal he finds without backup, as usual, Hank thought dryly.  Wouldn’t be the first time.

Hank was in for a surprise when he reached the training room, though.  Upon flipping on the lights, he was greeted by the prone figure of none other than Dick Grayson himself.  Hank dropped the water bottle he had stopped off in the kitchen to fill and hurried over to the body, checking for a pulse out of instinct.  He breathed a sigh of relief when he found one, nice and strong.  Dick was fine.

So then what was he doing unconscious on the ground?  Hank frowned, rolling Dick over so he was lying on his back in order to assess his friend’s condition.  The man seemed fine: no blood, no visible bruises, a strong pulse.  Then Hank took in the bags under Dick’s eyes.  The man’s hands, Hank noted, were wrapped, as if he had been boxing right before he fell.  Hank’s eyes fell to the stationary punching bag directly in front of him and deduced that that had been exactly what Dick had been doing.

Hank gave a great sigh.  “Why can’t you just sleep like a normal person?” he asked aloud.  “Why do you always have to push your body to its limits and collapse dramatically?”

Sighing one more time, Hank lifted Dick’s body to his chest.  Dick didn’t stir, not that Hank had expected him to.  With all the punishment the detective seemed to have put his body through, Hank would be surprised if he woke before noon the next day.

Hank opened Dick’s door and deposited the other man onto his bed.  Hank shivered, feeling the polar temperatures of the room.

“What are you, a masochist?” he muttered.  Glancing at Dick, he saw that the other man was wearing a tank top.  With just that, he’d freeze in here.  Sighing heavily, Hank pulled off the other man’s shoes, then lifted him from the bed once more to clumsily pull the covers down one-handedly.  That done, he put Dick back on the bed and pulled the covers over the other man’s body, up to his neck.

“You’ll thank me tomorrow,” Hank muttered as he left, closing the door behind him.

Chapter Text

When Donna had been in training with Wonder Woman as a girl, her mentor had forced her on early morning runs, claiming that they afforded her more endurance during battle.

“On Themyscira, we run for three hours every morning,” Diana would say.  “You’re lucky I’m only making you run for one.”

Donna had pouted and complained loudly about these runs, but Diana had not relented and eventually, Donna had adjusted, the runs becoming a habit.  When she had stopped being Wonder Girl, the morning runs had continued, if for no other reason than to foster a sense of normalcy.  For that reason, when Donna started living with the new Titans, she was usually the first one up, as she prepared to take her run every morning at 5AM sharp.

Most mornings, Donna got changed, filled her water bottle in the kitchen sink, and headed straight out.  This morning, however, she found something unusual in the kitchen – Dick Grayson.  The vigilante was sitting in a chair, his body slumped over the kitchen table.  Next to his head sat a bowl of soggy corn flakes, the spoon still submerged in the milk.  Donna might have been concerned, but she could see his shoulders rising and falling rhythmically, indicating even breaths – he was asleep, not injured or knocked out.

Donna sighed as she approached him, eyeing the cereal.  “Some things never change, huh, Dick?”  She picked up the bowl and brought it to the sink.  Cereal had been Dick’s go-to midnight snack ever since they were kids.  On nights when Wonder Woman and Batman had League business to take care of, Dick and Donna used to sneak into Bruce Wayne’s kitchen, pouring themselves cereal and talking late into the night.  Donna reminisced as she cleaned the bowl and put it away.

Then she turned back to Dick.  She winced, seeing the odd angle of his neck and the way his back curved forward.  He would have one hell of a backache if she left him like that, but she couldn’t very well carry him to bed.  She considered waking him, but something made her pause.  Dick so rarely slept these days, and she was sure that if she woke him now, he wouldn’t go back to sleep.  He looked like he could use the rest, too.

So, rather than rousing her friend, she headed back toward the bedrooms, pausing in front of Conner’s, listening for movement.  When she heard nothing, she knocked softly on the door.  If Conner was asleep, she was certain the knock wouldn’t wake him.  A few moments later, the door slowly opened, Conner looking a bit perplexed in the doorway.

“Donna?” he asked, scratching his head.  “What are you doing up?  It’s really early.”

“I was about to head on my morning run,” Donna said, keeping her voice down.  “I hope I didn’t wake you?”

Conner shook his head, but his tousled hair gave Donna reason to doubt his story.  She felt a pang of guilt but pushed it down.  Conner didn’t seem to mind that she’d come to visit him.

“I was hoping you could help me with something?” Donna asked.

“Sure, what is it?”

“Just come with me.”  Together, the pair made their way back toward the kitchen.

“Oh,” Conner said in surprise when he saw Dick.

“Could you help me get him to bed?” Donna asked.  “He’ll kill his back if he stays like that.”

Conner nodded, moving over to Dick.  The boy deftly scooped the man up as if he weighed nothing and Donna led the way to Dick’s room, opening the door for Conner and pulling back the covers of the bed.  Conner settled Dick down on the mattress and Donna pulled the covers over him.

“Thanks, Conner,” she whispered.  The two of them left the room, Conner closing the door softly behind them.  They walked back to the kitchen before speaking again to avoid waking anyone.

“When I get back from my run, I’ll lead training,” Donna decided.  “Let’s let him sleep as long as possible, he needs it.”

Conner nodded in agreement.  “I’ll tell the others when they get up.”

Donna nodded her thanks, then turned to leave.

“Donna,” said Conner, making her turn around.  “Dick appreciates you, you know that?”

Donna smiled at the boy.  “Oh, I know.  He’d be lost without me.”  With that, she left the Tower.

Chapter Text

Conner stared, fascinated, at the popcorn bag slowly inflating in the microwave, popping several times a second in quick bursts.  He had never had popcorn before, and he was looking forward to the experience.

Conner may have looked like a twenty-year-old man, but in many ways, he still felt like a child.  He had been grown in a test tube in a matter of days, his mind filled with basic knowledge, like the ability to speak English or the fact that one plus one made two.  But they hadn’t provided him with any knowledge of laws, social cues, or, seemingly most crucially, pop culture.

“What do you mean you’ve never seen Star Wars??”  Gar had gasped earlier that day, hand over his heart.

“I’ve only been alive for a few months,” Conner had explained.

“I don’t care if you’ve only been alive a few minutes!” Gar had griped.  “Star Wars is a classic!”

The other Titans had quickly agreed, and they had made plans to have a movie marathon that night, but crime in San Francisco had other plans.  Jason had skidded into the room, announcing a bank robbery in progress, and most of the team had rushed off to deal with it.  Dick would have been first out the door if not for Kory, who had reminded him (none too gently) that he was still recovering from a nasty bullet wound from the previous night.  Dick had fought her on it, but Kory had won in the end.  Dick had agreed not to come with, but that wasn’t enough for Kory.

“Someone needs to stay behind and watch Dick,” she had announced before the team left.

“Kory, I’m a grown man, I don’t need a babysitter,” Dick had protested.

“Oh yeah?  Experience begs to differ.”  Kory had squared up to the detective, putting a hand on her hip.  “If I leave you here alone, you’ll be tugging those tights on faster than I can blink.”

Dick had looked offended, but everyone knew it was the truth, so Conner had volunteered to stay.  “We can watch the Star Wars movies,” he had offered, smiling.

So here they were.  Dick was sitting on the couch, trying to look like his bandaged side wasn’t bothering him, while Conner made the popcorn.  Every so often, the half-Kryptonian would glance toward their leader, hoping he was being subtle enough that Dick wouldn’t notice.  The detective looked tired – he had dark circles under his eyes, and he was leaning further back into the couch cushions than he normally did.  Conner decided that Kory had made the right decision by benching Nightwing for the night.

When the popcorn finished, Conner poured it into a bowl and brought it out to the living room.  The movies were already cued up on the television, set to play one after the other, starting with A New Hope (Conner had been confused about why he needed to start with movie number four, but was only further confused by the team’s enthusiastic yet jumbled attempts to explain the timelines).

Conner settled onto the opposite side of the couch as Dick pressed play.  The clone was immediately sucked into the story, losing track of everything else.  He felt Luke Skywalker’s pain at the deaths of his guardians, cheered for Luke and Han as they attempted to rescue Princess Leia, and bit his nails as the Rebels fought against the clock to destroy the Death Star before their base was in range of its death ray.

“Why didn’t Chewie get a medal?” Conner asked when the credits rolled.  “He did just as much work as Han and Luke did.”

“Inter-galactic racism,” Dick answered without missing a beat.

“Oh.” Conner frowned.  That made Dick chuckle.  Then The Empire Strikes Back cued up, and Conner returned his attention to the screen, ready to get lost in the story once more.

***

Throughout A New Hope, Dick had been shifting every now and then, his bandaged side seemingly bothering him.  Conner knew the other man likely didn’t want to talk about it, so he hadn’t brought it up.  During Empire, Conner noted that Dick’s movements were lessening; perhaps the pain was dying down, or perhaps the other man was just giving up on trying to be comfortable.  Conner didn’t have long to consider it, what with the imminent battle between Luke and Darth Vader.  Conner had been looking forward to this since A New Hope introduced Luke as the main hero and Vader as the main villain.  Now, it seemed that the epic showdown was finally here.  Conner watched, entranced, as the hero and villain battled, before Vader forced Luke onto a narrow ledge.

“No, I am your father.”

“What???” Conner gasped, a hand over his mouth.  “How???  I thought he was a robot!!” 

He turned to Dick for answers, but one glance at the other man told him he wouldn’t be getting any tonight.  Dick’s eyes had slipped closed, his head resting back on the couch cushion.  His breaths were coming slowly and evenly.

Conner paused the movie and turned to study his mentor.  The man was holding an arm protectively over his side, but it didn’t seem to be causing him any immediate pain.  The circles under his eyes looked even more pronounced, but in sleep, Dick’s face was more relaxed than Conner had ever seen it.  Conner took in Dick’s awkward position (head leaned all the way back while his body maintained a more or less sitting position) and made a decision.  He stood up and nudged Dick’s shoulder experimentally.  No response.  The man must have been truly exhausted.  Gaining confidence, Conner carefully nudged Dick’s body until his torso reached the seat cushions of the couch.  The boy placed an extra cushion under Dick’s head, then removed the man’s shoes and moved his feet up to the other side of the couch. 

Then he stood back to admire his work.  Dick certainly looked more comfortable now.  Smiling to himself, Conner took the popcorn bowl to the kitchen, then headed back to his room.  He’d warn the others to be quiet when they got back.

Chapter Text

Gar had never been very good at going to bed at a reasonable hour.  It was a habit that would often get him into trouble at the Caulder house: he would sometimes stay up far too late playing video games, then sleep till noon and miss breakfast with the others – this would usually earn him a lecture from the Chief.  Or sometimes, one of the others might complain that Gar had the volume up too loud when they were trying to sleep.

But one of the many benefits of living with the Titans was that the Tower was huge – there was no way that anyone would hear Gar playing a video game on the television from their rooms.  For this reason, Gar happily lost track of time playing first person shooters, confident that he was bothering no one.  Finally, he saved his game and turned off the TV.  Yawning, he stood and stretched, his vision going spotty for a moment as his body adjusted to the new position after sitting for so long.

Gar was definitely feeling the late hour as he went through the motions of getting ready for bed.  He felt ready to crash.  It took him several attempts to get his legs into his PJ pants, and he was squeezing the toothpaste tube for a full minute before he realized that it was empty.  Frowning, he tossed it into the wastebasket.  Now what?  He debated skipping brushing his teeth for the night, but dinner had had onions in it, and he didn’t really want that taste in his mouth in the morning.  He’d have to borrow from someone.  But who would be awake at – he checked his phone – 3:26 in the morning?

Dick was his best bet, Gar decided.  If anyone was going to be awake at this ungodly hour, it would be their leader; he slept less than the rest of them combined.  Mind made up, Gar approached Dick’s door, tapping softly on it.  He didn’t hear a response, so he turned the handle slowly and inched the door open, careful to make as little noise as possible.

“Dick?” he whispered, poking his head into the other man’s room.  “You awake?”

He got his answer.  Dick was sprawled out on his bed, definitely not awake.  Well, there goes that plan, Gar thought to himself.  He was about to shut the door when Dick let out a soft groan.  Gar frowned, studying the other man.  His breaths were coming quickly, and as Gar watched, Dick’s head jerked one way, then the other, then back.

He’s having a nightmare, Gar realized.

“No,” Dick muttered, still tossing and turning.  “Stop.”

Gar had had his fill of nightmares.  The worst of it had been after the asylum, after Gar had killed someone for the first time.  He had relived that moment over and over again, his unconscious mind embellishing the memory, making it a million times worse than the actual experience had been.  Gar knew some of the things that Dick had been through, and he could imagine that his mentor’s nightmares weren’t much more enjoyable than his own.

“Stop!” Dick called out. 

Gar wasn’t sure how best to help, but he knew that physical touch always helped whenever he himself was having a nightmare.  With that thought in mind, Gar slowly approached the bed, watching Dick carefully.  The dream seemed to be getting more intense – Dick was beginning to thrash around in his sleep.  Without hesitating, Gar climbed into the bed and wrapped his arms around his friend, embracing him tightly.  At first, he struggled to hold Dick, whose instinct seemed to be to try to fight Gar off.  But Gar persisted, and after a moment, the thrashing slowed.  Gar wasn’t sure if the nightmare was ending or if Dick’s body was just getting tired, but soon, evidence seemed to favor the former, as Dick seemed to relax a bit more into the mattress.  His breathing slowed to an even pace, and his furrowed brow lifted.

Gar released Dick, but he wasn’t sure he was out of the woods yet.  Gar’s nightmares tended to play on a loop, and he suspected that Dick’s might be the same.  He had better stay, just in case he was needed again.  He was sure that Dick’s thrashing would wake him if another nightmare came.  In the morning, he would tell Dick that it had been Gar who had had a nightmare – it wouldn’t be the first time he had come to Dick for comfort, and he knew Dick would accept that without question.  But for now, Gar was happy to be the one comforting for once.  That was Gar’s last thought as he drifted to sleep.

Chapter Text

Jason was anxious to catch this guy.  It had been driving him crazy for the past week – the way the criminal was always just out of the Titans’ reach.  And now it was personal – last night, they had almost had him, but Jason had gotten cocky, and the bastard had gotten away.  No one had said anything when they had gotten back to the Tower, but Jason knew they were all thinking it.  If it hadn’t been for him, they would have caught the guy.  He needed to make it right – this was his mess to clean up.

He had spent all day relentlessly training, determined to make up for his mistake.  Now it was late, and since they hadn’t received any alerts signaling the need for the Titans’ intervention, everyone else was in bed.  Jason had a plan – he would sit in the mission room, scanning through everything until he found a lead, and then he would go after it.  Once he caught the asshole, he’d hand him off to the cops (once he’d gotten his beating in, of course), and the team would welcome him back a hero.

Shouldn’t be too hard to find him, Jason thought to himself as he snuck down the hallway, using his Robin training to remain completely silent as he moved.  Didn’t seem like he had too much going on upstairs.  Jason suppressed a snort.

When Jason reached the mission room, he noticed right away that the wall-sized computer screen was already lit up.  Strange.  Someone must have forgotten to turn it off.  Jason flipped up the switch on the wall, and as the room was illuminated, Jason realized that the chair in front of the computer screen was already occupied.

Dick Grayson was slumped back in the chair, face pointed toward the ceiling and mouth agape.  The desk in front of him, which was usually occupied solely by the keyboard for the computer, was completely covered – papers, folders, and coffee cups were strewn all across the surface.  As Jason approached, he noted that the papers appeared to be case files.  On the computer screen were several mug shots, each one looking vaguely like the guy they were currently chasing.

Guess I’m not the only one desperate to catch him, Jason thought.  But this was ridiculous; Dick hadn’t done anything to let him get away, there was no reason for him to be this invested.  Then Jason shook his head.  Dick Grayson was always invested – this was far from the first time he’d worked through the night searching for their perp, and Jason had to imagine that his days as a detective had been more of the same. 

Jason wondered if it was a Robin thing – maybe Batman had trained Dick to be this obsessed with finishing a job.  Jason certainly felt like Bruce had drilled something similar into him (although he had already had a certain determination going in, so it wasn’t a big change).

Well, whatever the reason, this wasn’t healthy.  Dick needed to get some real rest before he keeled over in battle and got himself killed.  Jason’s eyes scanned the room, searching for something that was approximately the right size.  Finally, they landed on the wireless computer mouse.  That would work.  Jason picked it up and tossed it at Dick’s still form.  It bounced off the other man’s shoulder, but the impact was enough to do the trick: Dick jerked away from the contact, eyes snapping open and body tensing for a fight automatically.

“Jason?” Dick squinted at the younger Robin, his body relaxing as it realized there was no enemy.  “What’re you doing?”

“Waking you up,” Jason responded.  “Come on.  You’re going to bed.”

Dick frowned.  His eyes found the case files and lit up with understanding.  “I was looking for the man we’re trying to find,” he said.  “I found a few suspects, all with similar histories–”

“Yeah, that’s great,” Jason interrupted.  “We can follow those leads in the morning.”

“Jason, the sooner we catch this guy–”

“The better, yeah, yeah,” said Jason.  “But this can wait till morning, Dick.  Trust me.”

Dick looked like he was about to argue again, but then a look of confusion flashed across his face.  “What time is it?”

Jason checked his watch.  “2:46AM.”

“Why are you here so late?”

Oh.  Jason wracked his brain for an excuse, but he couldn’t think of one fast enough.  Now he’d been silent for too long.

“You were going to go after this guy.”  It wasn’t a question.

Well, denial was out.  Time for belligerence.  “So what if I was?  I owe him a visit.”

“By yourself.”

“I can handle it!”

“You’ll get yourself killed!” With this, Dick shot to his feet.  He stumbled for a moment, blinking hard, before catching himself and glaring at Jason.

Jason was a bit concerned for his mentor, but that wasn’t going to stop him from winning this fight. “I know what I’m doing!  I’m Robin, remember?”

“Yeah, a very new Robin!  You’re not ready for something like this!”

For a moment, neither man spoke, each staring the other down.

“Ok, fine,” Jason said finally.  “I won’t go after him.”

“Good,” said Dick with relief.

“If…”

Dick arched an eyebrow.

“…you go to bed and get some real sleep.”

“Jason, I’m–”

“Gonna get yourself killed in the field when you pass out in the middle of a fight?  Yes, I agree.”

The staredown recommenced, but after a few moments, Dick broke eye contact, staring hard at the floor.  “Fine,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Jason asked innocently.

“I said fine,” Dick snapped.  “If it’ll keep you out of trouble.”

Jason grinned.

Together, Robin and ex-Robin walked toward the bedrooms, pausing when they reached Dick’s door.  He opened it and entered his room, and Jason followed him in.

“What are you doing?” Dick asked.  “You have your own room, you know.”

“Nope, sorry, I don’t trust you,” said Jason.

Dick arched an eyebrow.  “What does that mean?”

“How do I know you won’t just sneak back to the mission room as soon as I leave?  Nope, sorry Grayson, but I know you too well.  I’m staying right here until you’re asleep.”  Jason settled himself on the floor with his back leaning against the wall for emphasis.

Dick rolled his eyes but didn’t comment further.  Probably too tired to argue, Jason thought, grinning to himself.  He was winning this fight, for once.

Dick kicked off his shoes, pulled his shirt over his head, and got into bed.  “Are you gonna sing me a lullaby, too?”

“I could always knock your lights out,” Jason offered.

Dick gave a short laugh.  “Thanks, but no thanks.”  With that, he lay down on his side, his back to Jason.

Jason watched the other man’s body move up and down with his breathing.  After twenty minutes or so, Dick’s breathing slowed, and his breaths deepened.  Jason pushed himself up from his position, walking around the bed.  Dick certainly looked asleep – his expression was peaceful, his brow unfurrowed and his mouth slightly open.  Jason wasn’t sure if he was faking, though.  It wasn’t until a soft snore escaped the older man than Jason knew he was truly out. 

Smiling, Jason silently left the room, closing the door behind him, before making his way back to his room.  Now that Dick was out, there was nothing stopping Jason from breaking their agreement and going after the perp anyway, but Dick had trusted him to keep his word.  Jason didn’t exactly have the best track record with that, and he was trying to do better; he wanted Dick to be able to trust him.  And anyway, they could chase those leads in the morning, like Jason had suggested to Dick.  A few hours wouldn’t change much.

With that thought in mind, Jason stepped inside his own room, ready to follow Dick’s example and get some sleep.

Chapter Text

Rose was one of the newest additions to the Tower.  Sometimes she felt like she was the newest – Conner had come after her, but he just seemed to fit right in with everyone, whereas she couldn’t feel more out of place.  Before she had run away from Slade, he had raised her to be alone, to never need anyone else.  He had always stressed that she needed to be self-reliant, and that getting close to anyone was dangerous and stupid.  And she had believed him; after all, he had kind of proven his point by attacking her out of nowhere the way he had.  She couldn’t trust anyone – not even her own father.

For that reason, she had always kept her distance from the other Titans.  Dick was willing to take a chance on her, and she was grateful for that – she needed a place to stay, and she felt like she could do some good with this team.  But the whole “working with others” thing was still very new to her, and she sometimes struggled to be a team player in the field when all her instincts were screaming at her to watch out for herself alone.

As for off the field, Rose felt like the Titans were this big, cohesive family, and she was sitting right on the outskirts.  That wasn’t for lack of trying on their part – the adults in particular were always trying to invite her to eat with the team, come to movie nights, be social – but the idea of making friends still rubbed her the wrong way.

Since she didn’t have many friends in the Tower, she found that the hours after everyone else had gone to bed were the best time for her to think.  She would wander the Tower, contemplating the next mission (or more often, fantasizing about the revenge she’d take on Slade when she found him again).

That was what she was doing tonight, when she stepped into the living room and saw Dick passed out on the couch.  She stepped back in surprise for a moment, then slowly approached the man.  Dick was in a more-or-less sitting position; his feet were on the ground and his head was leaned back into the cushions.  Rose noted the way his face was completely relaxed – Dick had never allowed himself to be this vulnerable in front of her before.  Then she noticed the sweat droplets on his forehead, dripping down the sides of his face.  Maybe he’s having a nightmare, Rose thought to herself.  Rose was sure Dick had enough crappy memories and past experiences to create a whole slew of nightmares.  But his breathing was slow and even, and he wasn’t thrashing around at all.  Frowning, Rose brought the back of her hand to Dick’s forehead.

“Holy crap,” she whispered, feeling the heat radiating from the man. 

Well, that answered that question.  Rose paused for a moment as she pondered what to do.  She could wake someone else up, of course, but that wasn’t how she was raised – self-reliance, and all that.  If Slade was here, he’d tell her to leave Dick be – if he was strong, he’d pull through on his own, and if not, he wasn’t worth the effort.  Certainly, whenever she’d had fevers, she’d received no special treatment from her father – if anything, the training only got more brutal when she was sick, because it gave Slade the chance to land more hits on her.

But she wasn’t her father.  He had betrayed her, tried to kill her, and she couldn’t forgive him for that.  She needed to stop taking his advice, once and for all.  She thought about the situation another way – if she was the sick one, what would Dick do?  That answer was simple – he’d take care of her.

Then that’s what I’m going to do, she decided.  Or at least, I’ll do what I can.

Rose decided that the first thing to do was to get Dick lying down.  She grabbed his feet and swung them around to the end of the couch, pulling his shoes off before she allowed his feet to rest on the cushion.  Hank would have her head if she got the couch dirty; he’d already threatened her once when she had made to put her feet up while her shoes were still on.

The motion caused by moving his feet also moved his head – it landed a bit roughly on the cushion at the other end of the couch, but the man didn’t stir.  Rose moved to the other side of the couch and felt Dick’s forehead again.  Yeah, she definitely needed to try and bring his temperature down.

She grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom and ran it under cold water.  She wrung it out, folded it in half, and placed it on Dick’s forehead.  There.  That should help.

But now what?  There wasn’t much else she could think to do.  Maybe she should just call it a night and head back to bed.  But something nagged at her – she had a feeling that Dick wouldn’t think to make himself anything to eat when he woke up.  Wasn’t soup supposed to be good for sick people?

She headed to the kitchen and started some chicken noodle soup on the stove.  She’d taught herself how to cook basic things, and soup was easy enough.  When it was done, she ladled some into a bowl and brought it into the living room, setting it on the coffee table near Dick’s head.  It would probably be cold by the time he woke up, but cold soup was better than nothing.  She scrawled out a note and left it by the soup bowl: More in the kitchen.  There.  If he wanted more, he knew where to find it.

Then she felt the washcloth.  It had warmed up while she was making soup, so she took it back to the sink, allowed the cold water to seep back into it, then re-wrung it out and placed it back on Dick’s forehead.

“Well, that’s about all I can do,” she said to the empty room.  She took one last look at Dick, who seemed to be resting more comfortably now, before heading back to her room.  “Feel better, Grayson,” she muttered on her way out.

Chapter Text

“Hey!” Gar complained.  “Using your powers to block the screen is totally cheating!  Dick, tell Rachel to stop cheating!”

“Hmm?”  Dick barely glanced up from his laptop.  “Uh, yeah.  Good.”

Rachel smirked at Gar.  “The all-powerful leader has spoken.”

Gar rolled his eyes at her.  Rachel laughed but allowed the dark cloud to disperse so that Gar could see his side of the screen.  Her distraction had worked, though – she wasn’t losing anymore.

Rachel and Gar were playing a hand-to-hand combat video game where you get to play as a Marvel superhero and beat up the other person.  Rachel was Black Widow and Gar was the Incredible Hulk (“No, it’s not just because he’s green!” Gar had protested when Rachel had snickered over his choice.  “You’re one to talk, picking the only superhero who dresses in all black!”  Rachel had stuck her tongue out at him in response).

The team had just gotten back from a mission involving a lot of running around.  The others were all exhausted, so they had gone straight to bed, but Dick had said he needed to get some work done, and Rachel and Gar were full of leftover adrenaline, so they were all sitting in the living room, Dick working on his laptop while Gar and Rachel beat each other up in the game.

There was a satisfying crashing sound as Black Widow threw the Hulk over her head and his body slammed into the ground.  “BLACK WIDOW WINS!” the game announced. 

Gar groaned, glaring at Rachel.  “It’s cuz you cheated,” he accused.  “I want a rematch.”

Rachel grinned back.  “You’re on.”

They played several more rounds; Rachel won a few more, but Gar was the overall reigning champion.

“Alright,” said Gar finally, rubbing his eyes.  “You will never defeat me,” he interrupted himself with a long yawn, “but the late hour has.  I’m for bed.”

“Our current score of 13-5 says otherwise,” Rachel protested.  “I do beat you sometimes.”

Gar shook his head, smiling.  “Sure, sure.  Well, goodnight.”  He stood, stumbling a bit before regaining his balance, and gave Rachel a small wave before heading in the direction of the bedrooms.

Rachel switched off the television.  “He’s just afraid I’m gonna beat him again,” she said to Dick.

Dick didn’t respond.  Rachel turned toward him just in time to see the laptop he was working on slide off his lap, hitting the floor with a thud.  Dick’s head was slumped forward, his chin on his chest.

“Dick?” Rachel asked hesitantly.  He didn’t answer.  Yeah, Rachel thought, he’s definitely out.

She walked over and picked up the laptop, glancing at it.  It seemed that Dick had been researching a few known criminals, looking up last known locations.  Looking for a new mission, perhaps?  Rachel shook her head.  “You know, this probably could have waited until morning,” she told his sleeping form.  She closed the laptop, placing it on the coffee table.  Then she turned to study the unconscious man before her.

It would be a shame to wake him, she thought. But how else am I going to get him to bed?  She could go and get Gar, of course.  But having seen how tired Gar was when he had gone to bed, Rachel suspected the boy was already passed out by now.  I wonder…

Rachel’s powers had been a bit temperamental in the past, but she had been working a lot lately on getting them under control, and in the last few weeks, there hadn’t been any issues.  It seemed like ever since they had defeated Trigon, her powers had become her own, rather than extensions of her father’s, and they were more under her control.

Now, she summoned them, and as her eyes and the stone on her forehead lit up, she pushed a black cloud of smoke out of her body.  She willed it to move under Dick’s body and become more solid.  Then, she lifted it a few feet into the air.  The cloud supported the man, acting as a sort of floating stretcher.  Rachel guided the cloud through the kitchen toward the bedrooms, following behind it as she did so.  She opened Dick’s door, pushing the cloud inside.  She pulled his bedsheets back, then positioned the cloud directly over the bed.  Then she willed it to descend, bit by bit, until it eventually sank through the mattress, Dick’s body settling on the bed.  Then she summoned the cloud back to her and it complied, returning to her body as her eyes returned to their regular shade and the stone on her forehead went dark.

For a moment, Rachel just stood there, catching her breath.  Her powers were getting easier to control, but they were still relatively exerting, especially when she’d already been on a mission tonight.

Once she had recovered, she moved toward the bed, pulling Dick’s shoes off and setting them on the ground neatly.  Then she pulled the covers over him, smiling as she studied his face.  Dick tried to always project the aura of the strong leader, someone incapable of weakness, but Rachel knew that was nonsense.  She’d known about Dick’s weaknesses before she’d even met him – about his parents’ deaths and how they haunted him – and that didn’t make him any less a hero in her eyes.  Now, looking at how relaxed his face was and how vulnerable he was in this moment, Rachel was glad she could be here to take care of Dick Grayson for a change.

Chapter Text

“Listen, Hank, I’m sorry, but I don’t understand the problem here.  The mission was a success, wasn’t it?”  Dawn frowned at her boyfriend.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Hank muttered.  “‘Oh, Hank, why don’t you just scan the surveillance tapes,’” he mocked.  “‘Dick and I can handle these guys.’”

“Well, we could!” Dawn defended.  “We took them down in about two seconds!”

“I could have helped!” Hank yelled.  “You didn’t need to treat me like the odd man out!”

“Someone needed to go through those tapes, and Dick and I were busy!”

“Oh, I’m sure you were.”

Dawn raised her eyebrows.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t like how much time you’ve been spending with Boy Wonder!”  Hank jabbed a finger in the general direction of Dick’s room.

“So that’s what this is?”  Dawn rounded on the man.  “You’re jealous?”

“Well, should I be?”  Hanks hands went to his hips – a confrontational gesture if Dawn had ever seen one.

Dawn turned her back on him.  “I’m sorry Hank, but I can’t do this now.”  She started toward the door.

“Hey, don’t walk away from me!” Hank yelled.  “We’re not finished here!”

Dawn opened the door, turning back to look at her boyfriend.  “Yes.  We are.”  She slammed the door behind her.

Panting, Dawn leaned against the other side of the door.  Why did Hank have to be so jealous all the time?  Why didn’t he trust her?

She blew out a puff of air, a loose strand of hair flying out of her face.  She needed some air.  She needed to move, or she would explode.

She started walking, not sure where to, but as it turned out, it didn’t matter.  She only got as far as the kitchen before stopping in her tracks.  Dick was sitting at the kitchen counter, his back to her.  The moment she saw him, the anger already bubbling beneath the surface broke out.

“What the hell is wrong with you two?” she demanded.  “If you would just stop being jealous of each other for two seconds, we’d all be in a much better place!”

Dick didn’t answer.  He didn’t even turn around.

“Dick?”

Nothing.

“What, are you ignoring me?  Are you mad at me, too?”  Dawn was already frustrated, but it was getting worse by the second.  She walked toward Dick, determined to make him talk to her.  “I don’t understand why you and Hank can’t just –”

She stopped in her tracks.  “Dick?”

She had walked around to face him, and the reason he hadn’t turned was made abundantly clear – Dick was passed out cold.  His head was down on his chest, but apart from that, he was sitting fairly upright against the kitchen counter – that was why Dawn hadn’t realized sooner.

“Oh, Dick,” Dawn sighed, her anger ebbing away.  “What have you done this time?” 

She studied the vigilante critically.  He didn’t seem to have any visible wounds, so he was most likely asleep, rather than unconscious, but the fact that he had slept through her tirade meant that he must be truly exhausted.

“Did you work yourself into the ground again?”  Dawn shook her head.  “You know that’s what the team is for, right?  To divide the work?  You don’t have to shoulder it all by yourself.  Keep that up and you’ll wind up killing yourself.”

Dawn turned away from Dick, staring at the wall.  “It’s all your fault, you know.  The fight.  Hank’s jealous.”  She glanced over her shoulder at Dick.  “Not that that’s anything new.  But of course, you know all about that.”  She turned back to him.  “When we were together, you were jealous of Hank, too.”  She sighed, but it almost sounded like a growl.  “Why can’t the two of you just trust me?  Have I ever given either of you a reason not to?”

Dick, of course, didn’t answer.

“No, I haven’t,” Dawn answered for him.  “I never cheated on either of you, never expressed any interest in one when I was with the other.  If the two of you would get your heads out of your asses, maybe you’d see that.”

But as Dawn stared at Dick, her frustration faded.  Kinda hard to be mad at a guy who’s unconscious.

“Maybe we can talk about it in the morning,” Dawn decided.  “Because, Dick Grayson, it is well past your bedtime.”  She studied Dick’s form, calculating weight, then cursed.  There was only one way to handle this.

Hank opened his door with a smug expression on his face.  “Well, let’s hear it,” he said, arms crossed.

Dawn frowned.  “What?”

“Your apology.”

Dawn’s eyes narrowed.  “I’m not here for that.”

Hank frowned.  “Then why are you here?”

“Believe me, I’d rather not be,” said Dawn.  “I just need your arms.”

“My … what?”

“Just come here.”  Dawn dragged her boyfriend into the kitchen.

“Wha … What’s Grayson doing here?” Hank demanded.

“Shhh!” Dawn scolded.  “He’s asleep.  Help me get him to his room.”

“What, so the minute you’re done fighting with me, you run straight to Dick fucking Grayson?”

“No, Hank.  I ran to the kitchen.  Where I found Dick!”

“And now you want to help him.”

“Would you rather we left him like this?” Dawn gestured toward Dick.  “Look at him, Hank.  He hasn’t so much as stirred, and he didn’t wake up when we were shouting at each other in our room.  Doesn’t that tell you how exhausted he must be?  We can’t just leave him here.”

Hank’s expression softened.  He looked at the other man, pity finding its way into his eyes.  There was a long silence, and then – “Okay,” he said quietly.  “You’re right.  Let’s help him.”

Dawn breathed out a sigh of relief.  “Thank you.”

Hank picked Dick up easily, carrying him bridal style to his room.  Dawn opened the door for him and pulled back the covers so Hank could set Dick down on the bed.  She resisted the urge to remove Dick’s shoes and pull the covers up – she didn’t want to give Hank another excuse to be jealous.  Instead, she turned and led the way back to their room.

“We are all three of us going to talk about this tomorrow,” Dawn said as she and Hank got ready for bed.  “All of it.  Your jealousy, his overworking himself, everything.”  She stared Hank down, daring him to challenge her.

Hank met her gaze, then glared at the floor.  “Fine.”

And with that, the two of them went to bed.

Chapter Text

“Well, I thought that went pretty well,” said Kory airily as she and the others took the elevator back up to the Tower.

Several groans chorused in response.  Kory chuckled.

“Easy for you to say,” Jason griped.  “You got to shoot fireballs at the bad guys the whole time while I was stuck trying not to strangle the cops.”

“You were learning respect for public authority,” Dick corrected from the far corner of the elevator.

Jason rolled his eyes.  “Whatever.  It’s not my fault the cops can’t do shit.”

Dick didn’t respond, which Kory found odd, but she chalked it up to a long night; the latest batch of criminals had taken longer to defeat than usual.

“Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m heading straight to bed,” Conner voiced.

There were general mutterings of agreement.  The whole team was feeling the exertion they had just gone through, and Kory was sure they’d all be asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillows tonight.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened.  As the team made their way into the Tower, most members formed a loose crowd, all heading in the direction of the bedrooms.  Only Kory and Dick lagged behind.

“I need a drink,” Kory announced, making a beeline for the whiskey stores in the kitchen.  “You want one?”  She pulled two glasses from the cabinet in the kitchen without waiting for a response, pouring a generous amount of amber liquid into both.

“So, how do you think tonight went?” Kory asked as she poured.

“Hmm,” Dick answered noncommittally.  “Could be better.”

“Well, Rachel certainly seems to have her powers under control,” Kory commented.  “And Gar’s up to, what, four animals now?” Kory paused, thinking proudly about how far Gar had come from when they had met.  She put the whiskey bottle away, picking up the two glasses and heading back toward the living room.  “What about Jason?” she asked.

Dick sighed heavily.  “I don’t know what to do about him,” he admitted.  “He needs to … learn …” Dick’s voice was getting softer with every word until it faded altogether and there was a soft thud.

“Dick?”  Kory reached the living room and stopped in her tracks.  Quickly, she set the glasses down and hurried over, checking Dick for a pulse.  The man had collapsed flat on his stomach on the floor in the middle of the room.

Kory sighed in relief when she found the pulse – slightly weaker than usual, but definitely there.

“Dick? Can you hear me?” she asked.  The man didn’t answer.

Carefully, she rolled him over onto his back and immediately sucked in a sharp breath.  Blood had stained a large section of his Nightwing outfit on his abdomen.

“Dick, what happened?” Kory fretted.  “Why didn’t you tell anyone you were hit, you idiot?”  She moved to remove the top half of his costume but stopped herself at the last minute.  It was possible that the pressure afforded by the suit was what had kept Dick going for as long as he had, and she didn’t want to risk more blood loss by taking the suit off before she had gotten him to medical.

“Alright, Dick, you’re not going to like this,” she muttered.  “But it’s for your own good.”  Quickly, she hoisted Dick into her arms, carrying him bridal style so as not to inflict further damage to his abdomen.  “You’re lucky I have super strength,” she told him.  “Otherwise, this would be even less fun.”

She brought the unconscious man to the Tower’s medical wing, laying him out on a cot.  She gathered all the proper materials (gauze, sterile needles and thread, antiseptics) and set them on the counter by the bed before attempting to wrestle the armored suit from Dick’s body.  The battle wasn’t easy, and she bemoaned every time his injury was rubbed by the fabric, as these instances were always accompanied by moans of pain.

Finally, though, the chestplate came off and Kory was able to take stock of the damage.  She was immediately glad she had waited to remove the armor, because the blood started flowing the instant the covering was removed.  Hurriedly, Kory began blotting, trying to soak up enough blood to be able to see the injury.  Eventually, she was able to make out a rather deep-looking gash in the man’s abdomen, slightly left of the center of his body.  After the initial release of pressure, there was no additional outpouring of blood, though, so Kory assumed that all of Dick’s internal organs and arteries were unharmed.

“You are one lucky bastard, you know that?” she muttered as she prepared a needle, closing one eye as she stared through that of the needle, biting her lip in concentration as she tried to thread it.  She smiled in victory as the thread moved through the eye and she was able to tie the knot to secure it. 

Then she turned back to Dick.  “Sorry,” she said as she moved to insert the needle and begin the stitches.  But her hand stopped when she was a centimeter from the skin.  She smacked herself in the forehead.  Duh. Anesthesia.

She shook her head.  This was why she shouldn’t be the one doing this (she was no doctor) and definitely not this late at night (her brain had stopped working properly several hours ago).  But she couldn’t leave Dick now to get someone else – she had to do this.

She set the prepared needle aside (making sure the surface she set it on was sterile as well) before searching the glass cabinet in the wall for some anesthesia.  Finding some, she quickly filled a syringe and inserted the needle into Dick’s skin near the wound, depressing the plunger quickly.  Dick gave no sign that he had felt the needle, but his face seemed to relax a bit as the anesthesia took effect.

Kory gave it a few more minutes to work, applying the antiseptic while she waited (yet another thing that she had forgotten to do, where was Gar when you needed him?), before starting in with the stitches once more.  She surprised herself with the speed at which she was able to stitch the wound up and tie off the thread.  I guess I’ve gotten better at it, what with how many times people on this team need stitching up.

Frowning to herself at the truth behind that statement, Kory covered the wound with a large bandage.

“Now, you leave that on, Dick Grayson,” she instructed her unconscious friend.  “It’ll get infected if you tear the bandage off as soon as you wake up.”

Honestly, even if he had been awake when she had said that she doubted he would have listened.  She shook her head; that was a problem for the morning.  Right now, she just wanted to sleep for a week.

Kory glanced at Dick, deliberating.  It would probably be better for her to leave him here – this room was sterile, not to mention, the numerous medical supplies that were just a few feet away, should the need arise – but Kory hated to leave him alone in this cold, empty room.

Making up her mind, Kory lifted Dick’s body once more, carrying him through the halls toward the bedrooms.  She opened Dick’s door and deposited the unconscious hero on his bed, pulling off his boots as she did so.  She thought about pulling the covers over his body, but ultimately decided that the sheets might irritate the wound, so she wrapped a blanket around his shoulders instead.

They would be having words in the morning about his hiding the injury (and those words would be in front of the rest of the team, so they could all take turns talking some sense into their fearless yet idiotic leader), but for right now, Kory knew the best thing for him was rest.

“Goodnight, Dick,” she called softly as she left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Chapter Text

“Ugh,” Rachel groaned, throwing her controller down in shame.  “I can’t believe you beat me again!”

Gar chuckled.  “What can I say, I’m just awesome at this game,” he bragged.

Rachel playfully smacked him upside the head, and he grinned at her.  “Rematch?”

Rachel grinned back, picking up her controller once more.  “You’re on.”

They played a few more rounds, Rachel reveling in every win, Gar pretending to be upset when she beat him but secretly pleased with how much fun she seemed to be having.  He may have let her win a few times (not that he’d ever admit it to her), just to see her face light up in victory.

Just as the next round was about to start, a thud from behind them made them both jump.  Gar paused the game as both kids turned around.  The source of the noise was immediately evident - Dick’s laptop had fallen from his lap to the floor.  The older vigilante’s head nodded forward, then jerked slightly back up but ultimately fell forward once more, his chin landing on his chest.

“Dick?” Rachel asked hesitantly.

The man gave no response.  His body was slowly slumping forward.

“Is he…?” Rachel asked.

“Looks like it,” Gar nodded.  He looked impressed.

Finally, gravity’s effects became too great for Dick’s body to ignore, and he pitched forward toward the floor.

“Woah,” Gar exclaimed, jumping up and catching his mentor before he could faceplant onto the floor.  Slowly, he leaned Dick back against the couch cushions. 

“He must have been exhausted,” said Rachel, standing.  She studied the sleeping vigilante.  “He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.”

Gar made a sound of agreement.  He could see the dark bags under Dick’s eyes clear as day.  “I wonder why he didn’t just go to bed after the mission.  What was he working on?”

Rachel picked up the fallen laptop, studying it.  “Looks like he was looking for a new mission,” she said, showing Gar the screen before closing the laptop.

Gar smiled, shaking his head.  “Of course he was.  R and R is a foreign concept to Dick Grayson.”  He turned back to Dick.  “So, what do we do?  Should we wake him up?”

Rachel shook her head immediately.  “He wouldn’t go to bed.  He’d probably want his laptop back.”  She placed the aforementioned device on the coffee table as she spoke.

“So, should we just leave him there?” Gar asked.  “He’ll wake up if we try to carry him.”

“Well, at the very least, we can make him a bit more comfortable,” Rachel said.  She knelt by Dick’s feet and began unlacing his boots.  “You move his head,” she instructed Gar, who understood at once and moved into position.  Together, the two of them maneuvered Dick into a horizontal position – Gar moving the man’s head and shoulders while Rachel moved his legs.

Gar stepped back to admire their work.  “Better,” he commented, “but still not as good as an actual bed.”

Rachel considered his words for a moment, then looked at Gar, an idea flashing in her eyes.  “We can’t bring him to bed,” she agreed.  “So let’s bring bed to him.  Come on.”  She tugged Gar’s arm, leading him to Dick’s room.  When they walked in, Rachel grabbed a few pillows, and Gar, catching on, stripped the blankets from the bed.

Together, they brought their spoils back into the living room.  Rachel moved to Dick’s head, lifting it gently and deftly sliding two pillows underneath (Dick’s pillows were way too thin; she couldn’t make herself stop at just one).  She placed another on the couch near his shoulder while Gar spread a few blankets over their leader.

Stepping back once more, Rachel thought Dick looked more at peace now.  “There we go,” she said with satisfaction.

Gar smirked.  “Actually looks pretty comfy.  Maybe we should have a slumber party in here sometime.”

Rachel rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, ok.  You have fun with that, Gar.  I’m going to sleep in my actual bed now.  You know, the one with a mattress.”

Gar grinned at her.  “What, are you afraid to rough it a bit?” he teased.

“Why rough it if you don’t have to?”

“Because it’s fun!”

Rachel scoffed, but she was still smiling.  Together, she and Gar headed for bed, Rachel turning off the living room lights on her way out.