Chapter Text
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Wayne Manor – Early Morning
Dick didn’t realize how massive the Manor truly was until he had to limp through its front door like a ghost in someone else’s house.
He had been gone for nearly a month. Four weeks of pain, wires, surgery, panic, and too many soft voices whispering around him like he was already halfway gone. The Wayne Medical Clinic had become its own kind of prison — one he was too fragile to escape.
Now, he was home.
And home felt… heavy.
Jason walked beside him, one hand gently on Dick’s back — not to guide, just to be there. Tim followed behind with the overnight medical bag Alfred insisted they carry, packed with extra gauze, pain meds, saline flushes, and a portable oxygen monitor.
Damian opened the door for them. He’d cleaned the whole wing the night before — something no one had asked him to do.
Alfred stood in the foyer, pristine and composed as always.
“Welcome home, Master Richard.”
Dick blinked up at him, exhausted but smiling faintly. “Hey, Alfie.”
Alfred stepped forward, arms gentle but firm, guiding him into a careful embrace.
“I’ve set up the east bedroom on the ground floor. No stairs. And Master Bruce’s room remains untouched should you feel the need to… anchor.”
Dick nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “Thanks.”
Room 1B – Ground Floor, Wayne Manor
The room was bright. Not hospital bright — natural light, soft yellow curtains, polished wood, fresh sheets that smelled like home.
Dick was already tired from the car ride. He slumped down slowly onto the bed, wincing as his ribs twinged.
Tim placed the meds on the bedside table. “You need anything?”
“Five more lungs.”
Jason smirked, tossing a blanket over his lap. “Sorry, fresh out.”
“You said that last week,” Dick mumbled.
Jason tapped a finger to his temple. “Consistency.”
Damian hovered in the doorway, then stepped in with a tray of hot water, electrolytes, and an oatmeal bowl. “Alfred said you need to eat. Slowly.”
Dick gave him a look. “Did you carry that from the kitchen or was it a stealth mission?”
“No mission. Just… care.”
It wasn’t a word Damian used often. Dick noticed. And smiled.
2nd day at manor – Frustration
The third time Dick dropped his toothbrush, he gave up.
The tremor in his left hand had returned — subtle, but frustrating. The aftershock of nerve strain.
Jason leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, arms crossed, watching without speaking.
Dick groaned, slumping forward and resting his forehead against the cold edge of the sink.
“I can’t even brush my damn teeth without shaking like a leaf,” he muttered.
Jason stepped forward, picked up the toothbrush, rinsed it, and handed it back.
“I once broke a mirror because I couldn’t get my stitches wet for a week. You’re doing better than I did.”
Dick didn’t laugh.
“Don’t coddle me,” he said softly. “I’m not fragile.”
Jason looked at him.
Really looked.
“You coded on a table like three weeks ago, Dickie. You’re allowed to be fragile.”
That broke him.
Not into tears, not into rage. Just quiet stillness.
“…I don’t know how to be okay.”
Jason nodded once. “That’s what we’re here for.”
Day 4 – First Fall
He wanted to do it himself.
The hallway to the conservatory was only twenty feet long. He had a cane, the doctor’s approval, and a stubborn streak as wide as Gotham River.
He didn’t want help.
So when he felt his leg give out — sudden, sharp — it wasn’t pride that broke when he hit the floor.
It was the sound he made.
A gasp — more of surprise than pain — and the dull thud of his body slumping sideways.
“Dick!”
Tim sprinted from the kitchen, socks sliding on the tile, laptop abandoned on the counter.
“Hey—hey, don’t move—don’t move!”
Dick cursed quietly, breathing fast. “I—I’m fine. My leg just—”
“Save it.” Tim dropped to his knees, checked his pulse, then the incision site near his hip. “Nothing reopened. Just overexertion.”
“I was—just trying to walk—”
“I know what you were trying.” Tim’s voice cracked. “But if you fall and crack your ribs again, Damian will personally throw himself into a Lazarus Pit.”
Dick laughed weakly.
“…He’d probably build one just to do it.”
“Exactly.”
Tim helped him sit up slowly, then rested Dick’s head against his shoulder. “You scared me.”
“…Sorry.”
“You’re not allowed to apologize until you can bench press me again.”
Dick smiled. “So like… 5 years from now?”
“Four, if you’re lucky.”
That Night – Watch Shifts Resume
They hadn’t intended to restart overnight watches.
But after the fall — and the nightmares still plaguing Dick like ghosts at his bedside — the unspoken rule returned: he doesn’t sleep alone.
Jason took first watch. He sat with his feet propped on the bedframe, flipping through a beat-up detective novel. Dick slept lightly.
Tim took second, laptop balanced on his knees as he compiled Nightwing’s case logs — pretending everything could go back to normal if the logs were up to date.
Damian took the dawn shift. He didn’t bring a book. Just watched.
At 5:22 AM, Dick stirred.
“…You don’t have to hover,” he murmured without opening his eyes.
“I’m not.”
“You’re glaring. That counts as hovering.”
Damian stood. “I can leave.”
“…I didn’t say that.”
A long pause.
Then:
“Will you sit?” Dick whispered.
Damian hesitated. Then pulled the chair closer.
They sat in silence for several minutes.
“I keep seeing it,” Dick murmured. “The crash. Not the pain. The sound. That metal scream.”
Damian said nothing. But his jaw tightened.
“…And then I see you. Pulling me out.”
Still nothing.
“…Thank you,” Dick said, voice tight. “You were so scared. But you did everything right.”
Damian’s throat worked as he swallowed.
“I didn’t… I wasn’t sure you’d make it,” he whispered. “I wasn’t ready to be the oldest.”
Dick gave him a soft, teary smile. “You weren’t. And you did it anyway.”
Damian reached for his hand.
Held it.
Didn’t let go.
The Family Moment – One Week Later
By the end of the second week after returning home, Dick could walk short distances. Eat on his own. Sleep through most nights.
He still got tired. Still panicked at sudden sounds. Still flinched in his dreams.
But he smiled again. Genuinely.
One night, Alfred insisted on a family dinner in the solarium.
Jason brought cookies. Tim brought sarcastic commentary. Damian brought noise-canceling earbuds (just in case).
And Dick, wrapped in a warm blanket, propped between three pillows, took one look at them all and said:
“You guys suck at hiding how much you love me.”
Tim smirked. “You say that like we’re subtle.”
Jason raised a brow. “Please. We’ve practically bathed you.”
Damian coughed violently. “Never again.”
Alfred brought in the soup. “Gentlemen. Decorum.”
And for just one evening — just one meal — the world felt right again.
They still had work to do. Dick still had healing ahead.
But for the first time since the crash…
He believed in after.