Clipped

Yes

Wally waited outside the med-bay while Alfred finished with Dick. He had been pushed out when he couldn't stay still and out of Alfred's way. He waited for the rest of the heroes, his mind on Dick.

When they came in, they saw Wally looking depressed. M'gann came up and hugged him, but he didn't seem to notice. "How is he?" Batman asked. Wally too in a shaky breath. "H-he almost f-flat lined." Wally finally got out.

Everyone in the room paled. Nightwing had almost died. They had almost been too late. They'd almost lost him.

They stayed in the cave, unable to tear themselves away from their injured bird. Batman had installed a feature in the cave that if a heart monitor was going, it would play throughout the cave. The heroes sat in silence, listening to the heart monitor go. It being the only thing that told them Nightwing was alive.

After what felt like hours, Alfred stepped out of the med-bay. Everyone stood up, but he waved them back down. "He's got multiple broken bones, cracked ribs, major blood loss, starvation and dehydration, and a severe concussion. I've got him in a medical induced coma as of now, and have him stabilized. It is up to him if he wants to live. I can do no more."

Everyone took in the information. Their brother, son, nephew, whatever he was to them, was hurt badly. Bruce knew that the Joker would've messed with his mind. He didn't know if Dick would want to survive.

Wally was almost crying by now. His best friend was nearly dead. His brother was nearly dead. And it was his fault. It was his fault he wanted to meet, it was his fault Dick got captured. "How many people can visit him?" He asked, his voice quiet. "No more than three at a time." Alfred replied, keeping himself quiet for everyone.

Bruce, Wally, and Tim stood up at the same time. They walked into the med-bay, needing to see him. Wally and Tim sat in chairs near him while Bruce stayed standing.

Dick was pale. His bandages were all over, his head and small areas of skin the only things uncovered. A tube was going down his throat, and two IV drips were going into his arm, one containing blood, the other, IV fluid.

Wally and Tim grabbed his hands. Wally thought he saw movement, but figured it was his imagination. Tim knew he saw movement. But he didn't say anything. Even if he wanted to. It was no good when all it could've been was Dick's body signaling it was dying.

Bruce put his hand on Dick's shoulder. He blamed himself. He should've told Dick to keep it here. He should've done something. But now it's too late. Dick was barely alive, and he blamed himself. There was no one else to blame, really. He was Dick's father, as well. Dick was his son, and it was his fault that Dick was hurt.

The three stayed there until they were dragged out. The others had told them to get some rest, but how were they supposed to sleep when Dick was dying? How were they supposed to sleep, knowing Dick's chances of waking up were slim? How?

Nevertheless, they were forced out. Wally wanted to yell, to get them to stop. He had to stay with his brother, he had to! But, he was forced out anyway. They almost had to knock him out.

Even though they were forced out, they didn't really leave. Bruce, Tim, and Wally went upstairs to Tim's room, where they pulled up a live stream of the med-bay. They watched Dick, constantly reminding themselves that he was ok.

It was a week before there was any sign of change. Bruce, Wally, and Tim spent all their free time with Dick, telling him about what they'd done and hoping he could hear them. Wally had almost given up hope when he heard it: a small groan.

Dick was waking up. The heart monitor sped up, and Dick cracked his eyes open. "You're alive!" Wally whispered, repeating it to himself. "No, I'm a ghost come back to haunt you." He joked weakly. Wally hugged him. His little brother was awake, and alive.