Robin one shot part 3!

I'll miss saving the world with you pt 6

sorry guys i forgot it was saturday

When the fever broke the morning after, everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief that they didn't have to watch it climb any higher or pay a trip to the hospital. Dick was still somewhat out of it given that it'd only just broken and not gone away completely but he was more so himself. Just more giggly. Sometimes more melancholy but they didn't stick around to see those moments. It made them feel awkward, as though it should be dealt with in private and he hadn't quite realised they were standing a moment away. Other than that, he was on the mend. Well, on the mend in terms of physical health. 

Alfred made his favourite soup for breakfast, sitting beside the young man as he spoon-fed him the first real meal he'd had since first passing out in the gym. Everything else he'd only managed a bite of so the butler made it his personal goal to put some fat back on his bones even if he'd barely gone a day without food. 

"Alfie?" Dick whispered. The acrobat was doing his best to keep his eyes open and not fall asleep even if he was desperately craving the rest. There was something slightly off about his gaze, either he wasn't looking like he was understanding the shape in front of him or he was in pain from the infection still lingering. "Is the fire on?"

"No sir, you're just quite sick," the butler replied. His voice was even despite his worry. Had Dick been more aware of what was going on then he would've picked up on the poorly veiled concern still on the man's face as he continued to spoon-feed him. "Your mind is still addled from the fever so you often forget that. You always did become forgetful when you were sick. I recall one time you swam two meters before remembering you were supposed to be on bed rest for a torn ligament and a cold." In the acrobat's defence, it had been Bruce's idea to send him to swim practice thinking it would be a good physio. He placed the bowl on the bedside table before swiping away the sweaty bangs that clung to Dick's forehead. "You did a good job, Master Dick. Looking after your family was quite the job on its own, let alone everything else on top of that. I'm ashamed to say that I allowed you to take on so much of my responsibilities due to my own grief and it was a rather easy way for me to manage my emotions in my own time. I was supposed to look after you and instead, I allowed you to run yourself into the ground."

"M not nine anymore." Alfred hummed because that wasn't true for him. Of course, he can see the wonderful man laying in bed in front of him but there'd always be some of that nine-year-old boy he met that day years ago in those blue eyes especially when Dick was sick. Something about the vulnerability made him unbelievably young no matter his actual age. Maybe it was Alfred's own age that made him see a child in place of a man in his twenties or maybe that's just the view all parental figures have on those they saw growing up. "Sorry I got sick. When I'm better I'll take over again."

"You've done enough." Dick shook his head, determination burning in his eyes but there was something behind that determination. It was dark and terrifying to experience but he'd seen it enough times in Bruce's own eyes to recognise it. That dark hole of never doing and never being enough. There would never be an end to it. It was like a bottomless pit that no matter what you throw in, would still be just as empty as when you started.

"Haven't."

"You've done plenty, sir. More than you should as a person who is grieving themselves."