Dick Grayson one shots

Finished P2

Nobody asked for this, like literally not one person including myself, but yet here we are :) its way long too, so that's a bonus

The first thing Bruce registered when he emerged from the fog of unconsciousness that enshrouded his mind was the pain. It was everywhere, pulsing through him with the accelerating beating of his heart.

Where was he?

An unfamiliar white room greeted him when he managed to open his eyes, sunlight streaming through the window the only thing brightening the place. He was glad for that.

A curtain stretched out to his side, monitors clinging to his skin.

He realized suddenly that he must be in the hospital. That didn't make sense, there were too many pieces missing for him to connect where he was now to where he remembered being.

"Alfred?" He called, alarmed by how scratchy his voice sounded.

"I'm here master Bruce," Alfred said, moving into Bruce's line of sight.

Bruce relaxed slightly. "What happened?" He asked.

Alfred's face fell. "I believe it would be best to share that story when you are well," he said softly.

Bruce's brow furrowed. He used a hand to push himself up off the bed, gritting his teeth to try and quiet the groan that threatened to escape as fiery pain shot up his arm.

"Master Bruce!" Alfred exclaimed, hurrying to adjust the bed. "You had but to ask if you wished to sit up."

"Where are my sons Alfred?" Bruce asked, looking around the room.

"They had their own wounds to tend to," Alfred replied, his gaze shifting to the floor.

"Are they okay?" Bruce asked, looking like he was about to swing his legs over the side of the bed and go check on them himself.

"Everything has been taken care of master Bruce. Now, tell me, is your pain bearable, or should I suggest an increased dose of pain medication to your nurse?"

Bruce finally took a moment to examine himself, tallying up his possible injuries. After a few minutes he gave up and looked to Alfred. "I'd like a list of my injuries if that's possible," he said.

Alfred nodded, pursing his lips. He didn't bother to point out the fact that Bruce had dodged his question seeing as he'd dodged his first. "Several broken ribs, many bruises, and many more stab wounds. It's a wonder you didn't bleed out," he said.

Bruce hummed. "And everyone else?" He asked, his eyelids starting to grow heavy.

"Much the same as your own wounds sir," Alfred replied.

Bruce hummed again. "More pain meds might be nice," he mumbled before his eyes drifted shut.

—

The next time Bruce awoke Tim and Jason were sitting across the room. He watched them for a moment while they hadn't yet noticed he was awake.

Tim was sitting on one of the few cushioned chairs the room offered, a casted leg propped up on a fold out chair, a set of crutches set up next to him on the wall. He wore a pair of tinted sunglasses, a bruise darkening the skin around his temple.

Jason sat stiffly, bandages peeking out from the collar of his shirt. His left hand was wrapped in bandages as well, a line of stitches peeking out from his hairline.

The mood in the room was somber, Jason's jaw clenched, arms crossed over his chest.

"He's awake," Tim said, drawing Bruce's attention back to him.