Birdflash oneshots 2

Hockey

There was no time for Dick to avoid it. A few seconds after getting his shot blocked, one of the opponents had thrown a hissy fit and swung his stick towards Dick. It had crashed through his helmet, striking him in the nose and knocking him back. Pain started spreading through his face, needlessly reminding him he'd gotten hit. He could hear the sound of skates sliding to a stop, and multiple sticks falling to the ice.

Blood was starting to drop out of his helmet, staining the ice below him. He felt dizzy, and it was hard to breathe. He could hear shrill whistles blowing, and he could hear very loud arguing. Maybe a few blows? It was hard to think. Whatever happened, he knew that somebody was not happy.

Hands turned him on his back, sliding his helmet off of his head. "Dick. Hey, kiddo, wake up. Come on, we gotta get you off the ice." A soft voice told him over the screams of the other players. "Woozy. Don't...don't feel good." Dick rasped. "It's no good. Get the stretcher. It's probably a concussion." "Probably? That dude swung at Dick's head like it was a baseball!" "Calm down. He'll be fine. We'll need to get him to Leslie, though."

Dick blacked out after that, the shouts of both teams and the fans slowly drifting away. He doesn't remember what happened, exactly. He remembers a scuffle somewhere else on the ice, remembers the sound of helmets and gloves beating against each other. He remembers being put on the stretcher, but he doesn't remember being taken off. He remembers the sound of his coach talking to Leslie, but doesn't remember what the conversation was about.

He woke up an undiscerned amount of time later, blinded by bright light. He come feel an ice pack on his face, right over his nose. "Sleeping Beauty awakes. Hold still for me." Leslie sat on the edge of the bed, shining a pen light in his eye. "What happened?" "You got knocked out. Concussion, broken nose, and a few stitches. Follow the light." "Which one? There's four." Leslie hummed. "Just follow one."

Leslie continued on, doing a few more neuro-tests that he'd been through a thousand times. He could hear the game going on outside of the room, buzzer after buzzer blaring through the stadium. "What's going on?" "Your boy got real fired up. He's been making shot after shot tonight." "Wally?" "He's the redhead, ain't he?" "Yeah." "Then that's him." Dick tried to sit up, but Leslie pushed him down.

"I said stay down. That concussion is real bad. You're going to the hospital once the paramedics get here." "That bad?" "Yeah. That bad. Wally almost got pulled off the ice earlier cause he kept going after the guy that hit you." "Was that all the shouting?" "Yeah. The guy who attacked you had to be escorted off the ice. From what I hear, Wally managed to break his jaw." "That's Wally for ya." "Mhmm."

The door to the room opened, a player poking his head through. "How is he?" "He's awake, Roy. Not sure he's all here, but he's awake." "Can I talk to him?" "You can try. He may not be able to answer all of them. Don't ask him anything he has to think too hard about." "What's 2+2?" "I will stab you." "No, you won't. You're staying in that bed." "I can stab him from here." "No, you can't."

Roy stepped in, closing the door behind him. "Hey, Dickie. How do you feel?" "Feel like hell. Head hurts." "I'm not surprised. He whacked you pretty hard." "Which one was it?" "Sixty two. He barely made it off the ice." "How's Wally?" "He's fine. Got a bruised cheek, but nothing else is wrong with him. He's been pissy since you got hit." "M'not surprised. He know I'm headed to the hospital after this?" "My guess is he has a feeling."

Leslie came back into the room, followed by two men clothed in blue and another stretcher. "Tell Wally I'm gone when you talk to him next." "Will do. You get some rest. We'll make sure to kick their asses for you." "You do that." "Don't die." "Don't plan on it." The paramedics transferred Dick to the stretcher, wheeling him out to the ambulance. "What's your name, sir?" The first paramedic asked him, leaning over his head."Dick Grayson." "What year were you born?" "1990." "Do you know where you are?" "Ambulance. Headed to the hospital. Coach is gonna kill me later."

"I doubt that, but we're gonna take good care of you. Do you know your injuries?" "Broken nose, concussion, and I got stitches." "Good. We're gonna give you some pain meds, and a sedative, to help you relax during this. You'll get a few x-rays, we'll do some correctional stuff to your nose, to put it simply, and we'll check to make sure nothing else is broken. You lost quite a lot of blood, so we may do a transfusion, based on your blood level. Do you understand all that?" "Yes."

Dick felt tired. "Hey, stay with me. We're almost to the hospital." "Don't think...I can keep my eyes open that long." "Focus on me. Look at my face. Tell me something you see." Dick tried to focus, but the bright light kept getting in the way. "You have very blurry eyes." "Dammit. Tell that driver to hurry up, we're taking too long." "He's going as fast as he can. Traffic is hell during games, and people apparently don't know how to get out of the way." "They're not going to like this." "He'll be fine. Besides, we were going to sedate him anyway." "To calm him down, not knock him out. Alright, listen to me, Dick. We're going to do the same stuff, but you'll be unconscious for it. We'll take care of you."

Dick didn't know how, but the next time he opened his eyes, he was in a hospital room, connected to monitors of all kinds. He had an IV in his arm, pumping fluids into his body. "Hey, go get a nurse. Dick, can you hear me?" A familiar voice asked. "Wally?" "Yeah. Yeah, it's me. Can you hear me alright?" "Yeah. What happened? Did we win?" "We won, Dickie. We kicked their asses." "What happened to the other guy?" "The one that smacked you?" "Yeah." "I broke his jaw. Fucker's gonna have it wired shut for three months." Dick chuckled softly. "You're such a simp." "Just for you, babe."