The Nowhere Girl

10. The World's Worst Hangover

I've always been a light sleeper. Never had a reason before Gotham, contrary to popular belief there's nothing too dangerous in Australia apart from the occasional snake in your boot. Now it was hard finding a position that didn't hurt. I'd sit in the dark of Robinson Park afraid this was the night I was going to get shot. Eventually I learned to sleep through the gun fire and wailing police sirens. It isn't any easier now that I've moved into the manor. I'd either stay up late with Tim – or I'd wait up and listen for any sound at all that would tell me they made it home alive.

So, yeah. Not big on sleeping.

I wake with the sun in the morning. For a second, in between sleeping and waking, I forget where I am. I forgot everything that happened last night.

I think I'm back home. I think I hear my family in the kitchen. Dad calls my name. I roll over to get out of bed and join them for breakfast.

But as soon as I move, the image of breakfast with my family shatters. I feel like I've been hit with a bus. My arms hurt, my legs hurt, my head aches. What did I drink to blackout like this? Then I remember – glitching. My skin feels raw and sensitive. Slowly I sit up and the sheets fall off and I see a high-tech-looking watch on my wrist.

I recall Dick putting it on last night. It's keeping me stable.

As for the sound that woke me? It wasn't Dad calling me into the kitchen, opening and closing draws and cabinets, putting a pan on the stovetop for frying eggs. Two voices are arguing downstairs.

I get out of bed and find someone has changed me into pyjamas and I try not to think about it too hard.

Downstairs I find Dick and Damian in the living room. Damian is slouched on the couch focusing on his sketchbook. "I was hoping you were dead," he mutters.

I am beyond the point of caring and I ruffle his hair. "I missed you too, mate."

"How do you feel, Blue?" Dick asks.

"I'm okay," I say. "I don't think I slept for very long. I feel fine." It's a lie. I don't feel fine. my head is pounding like the world's worst hangover.

There is movement in the doorway behind Dick, and I see Jason standing there with his deluxe I'll-kill-you-later frown set on his face. I nod up at him like I do when I see someone I know, to acknowledge their existence. Jason just keeps walking.

How much of his bad mood is my fault?

I look at Dick about to ask, but he has zoned out, brows knitted together into a frown, looking off into space. It must've been him and Jason arguing this morning. I punch him in the arm, and he jumps. He grabs my arm, about to Judo flip me before his eyes focus on my face and he relaxes.

He rubs his arm. "Ow! What was that for?"

"That's how I show affection," I say. Reaching up, I expect him to pull away, but he lets me cup his face. His nose is beginning to swell, bruising starting to appear around it, and there is a little dried blood under his left nostril. I gently pull his head down further to get a better look and frown. His skin is smooth and warm as I sweep my thumb across it to his nose. "Jason punched you, didn't he?"

Dick winces and backs away. I take his arm, keeping him there. "It's nothing," he says.

"Yeah, sorry. I thought it was my fault, but its none of my business." I let go of his hand and sit on the couch next to Damian. Dick plops down next to me, taking my hand again as he moves closer and rests his head on my shoulder. I go ridged, sceptical of his intentions. But then I relax, even though Damian is giving me a slightly disapproving look.

"You were out for three days," Dick says, lifting his head from my shoulder.

"You're supposed to let her down gently, Grayson," says Damian crossing his arms. He's glaring at us, or the way Dick and I are snuggled together, almost as if he was longing for something like that too. When I was his age, and I got lonely would creep down the hall and snuggle in with Mum.