Wally knocked on the door of Bruce's office, swallowing harshly. Dick was leaning against his side, swaying on his feet. He looked drained, eyes dark underneath. His body reeked of exhaustion. "Hey, stay with me." Wally whispered. "I'm fine. Just tired." "I know you're tired. But we need to talk to Bruce first."
Bruce opened the door, surprised to see the couple outside his door. "We need to talk. It's extremely important." Wally said. Bruce stepped back, allowing the two into his office. Wally led Dick along, sitting him in a seat.
"Are you alright, Dick?" Bruce asked as he closed the door. "Not really." "Then explain to me?" "Recently I've been having chest pains. We went to the doctor, to see what was going on. It turns out, I've got stage one breast cancer. It's barely the size of two Cheerios, but it's growing. They think they can do chemo, and I won't have to risk surgery." "But there's a catch." Wally nodded
"We went to the bank to try and access Dick's trust fund. When we got it, it was almost empty. There was ten dollars in there. Someone pretended to be Dick and stole the money. We barely managed to cover the visit and have enough for rent. We have no money for chemotherapy. We came to ask if you would help us cover the cost. If we tried to pay on our own, we'd be in debt. If we tried to raise the money, they'd need to do more chemo, and we'd need to pay more money. We can work to pay you back, but it's the only option that has a good outcome right now."
Bruce nodded. "I'll help. You don't have to pay me back. You need to worry about your health,q not the money right now. Both of you do. I'll pay whatever I need. Your brothers can help me figure out who was in your trust fund, and can get the money back. Go get some rest, and don't worry about anything. When is the first chemo supposed to happen?" "Three days from now. It's at Gotham memorial." Dick yawned. "Good. Go sleep. Wally, can you get him there?" "Yeah." "Then take him. I'll talk to Alfred, and see about moving you to the Manor for now."
Wally led Dick out of the office, keeping an arm around his waist. "That went well." "Yeah. I could really use a nap." "Then let's get you to bed. I don't want you straining yourself. That means no patrol for now." "I know. I don't like it, but I know." Dick leaned into Wally, grateful he'd stuck with him through everything.
Dick slept until dinner, trying to escape the pain in his chest. Wally stayed with him, pressing kisses to his face and rubbing his back. He knew Dick was in more pain than he was letting on. He couldn't hide it when they'd been married for three years. Wally let him sleep, knowing his world was about to get a lot more tiring, and he would be feeling a lot sicker.
Bruce, Dick, and Wally sat at the table, waiting for Dick's brothers to arrive. Maximus was sitting next to Dick's chair, whimpering softly. He knew his black haired human wasn't happy, and that made him sad. He knew his human's well enough to know they didn't like being sad.
Tim was the first to arrive. He had been excited to see Dick at the table, but was worried by his posture. Dick never looked that defeated. Bruce was talking to him quietly. What was going on?
Tim decided to wait in the hall and intercept his brothers, wanting to try and figure out what was going on. Jason was the second to show up, quickly noticing the change in Dick's posture. Dick never slouched at the table when Alfred was nearby. His elbows rarely sat on the table.
Damian was the last to join, and the last to start worrying. He had to admit, Grayson did not have his usual smile. He looked like he'd lost everything in the last ten minutes. If he wasn't at a dinner table, Damian suspected he would be laying his head down.
They walked in together, sitting at the table. Dick barely noticed, only looking up long enough to tell who was sitting where before dropping his eyes again. Just because they needed to know doesn't mean it made it any easier.
"Alright, someone has to say it. Dick, you look like someone just murdered West in front of you. What is going on?" Jason asked after they say in silence. "Wally isn't the one dying." Dick responded hesitantly, waiting for Jason to start yelling. "Just spit it out."
"I have cancer." Tim's eyes widened. "You're serious?" "Would I joke about it?" "What stage?" "Stage one. We caught it way early. But someone broke into my trust fund, and I don't have the money. Bruce agreed to pay it while I'm busy doing chemo. They're hoping I don't have to do surgery, but with the speed it grows I may have to."
"When's the first chemo?" "Three days from now. I'm not looking forward to it." "And you didn't tell us this before?" "I just found out yesterday. But I need this to stay on the down low. No one but us and Alfred knows, and I'd like to keep it that way." "Not even the team?" "They'll panic, and get distracted. It's better if they don't know." "What do we tell them?" "I'm sick. It's not that bad."
"Not that bad? A deathly disease is not that bad?" Jason growled. "It could be worse. I could be further along. I could be dead. At least we have a solution, no matter how uncertain. It could always be worse." Dick muttered, looking down. "And what if I would rather it not be worse? What If I'd prefer to have a brother who's not currently dying? I swear if this thing kills you I'm reviving you and killing you again." "Love you too, Jay."
The first chemotherapy was horrible. Dick was curled up in the recliner, groaning at the nausea that rolled through his body. Bruce, Wally, and his brothers were with him, but could do nothing. They held his hands, rubbed his back, whispered as not to aggravate his headache. Wally held Dick to his side, keeping the blanket they brought around his waist.
Dick slept as soon as they got into the car, softly groaning when they hit a bump. He felt like any strength he had was gone. Like it had just been sucked away. Wally had the blanket still wrapped around Dick's waist, which might have contributed to the exhaustion he felt. Dick didn't care, in all honesty. He just wanted to sleep.
Wally carried Dick into the Manor, not having the heart to wake him up. The family trudged behind, hating the sight. Dick was always the one smiling. Why had he been the one to get sick? It was clear chemo was nothing but torture for him.
Dick slept for two days. Not even Alfred wanted to wake him, hearts wrenched for the eldest son. Cancer was a monstrous disease, and it had latched its claws into Dick. Dick was doing his best to fight it off, but it was going to take some time before he could dislodge the claws.
When Dick woke the third day, he had been willing to eat. His nausea was almost completely gone, and all that he could feel was exhaustion. His family had been with him when he woke up, and stayed with him until he fell asleep again. He really needed to thank them when this was all over.
Three chemotherapy appointments later, and the Waynes received bad news. The cancer was growing too quickly for chemo to stop, and Dick would have to undergo surgery. It could be months before he was fully recovered, but it was the only chance he had to survive.
The family anxiously sat in the waiting room, hoping for the best. Dick was too important to lose. This surgery had better be worth the pain it was going to put Dick through. If not, why did they even bother?
After everyone lost track of time, one of the nurses came out. The surgery had been successful, and Dick was resting in his room. He was very weak from the chemo and the surgery, and needed rest. It would be at least another hour before the doctor cleared him for visitors.
Two excruciating hours later, the doctor allowed the family into the hospital room. Dick was sleeping on the bed, looking paler than ever. There seemed to be a million wires and tubes connected to his body, including an IV, a breathing tube, and a heart monitor. Bandages crawled up to his neck, peeking over the hospital gown. In short, he looked absolutely awful.
Dick slept for three days. The family never left, opting to stay awake and wait for him instead. He needed the rest, not them. After everything he'd been through with that stupid thing called cancer, he deserved rest.
When Dick woke up, he briefly wondered why the roof was spinning before he was being crushed in hugs. Whoever they were, they were being careful to avoid his wound, so he didn't mind. He was tired and in pain, and the hugs helped a lot. The doctor smiled as he walked in, seeing the family surrounding the patient. "Congratulations, Mr Grayson. You are officially cancer free."
