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Dick has no idea how Roy manages.
“I need my new sneakers, not the blue ones. The blue ones are ugly.” Dick dodges a flying shoe as Lian tears through her closet.
“If you wear the blue ones today, I’ll try and find your new ones while you’re gone.” He tries. Lian spins around, holding back tears.
“Dad was supposed to fix my closet! I can’t find anything!” She throws down the box she’s holding.
“I can-”
“No! I want dad to fix it!” Dealing with Damian is ten times easier than this. “He promised!”
Dick sits in the doorway of the closet. “He can’t right now. Princess, you know that.” It’s not the closet that’s the issue, Lian wouldn’t cry over that. “What’s really going on kiddo?” She swipes at her eyes and sniffs a few times. “Okay, dumb question.” Her dad’s sick as a dog and missing a limb, he’s surprised Lian’s holding up as well as she is. “You want a hug?” Lian shakes her head.
Dick sighs, he’s been dreading this, but she had to go back to school at some point, and it’s been a week. “Your dad will be okay; I’m staying all day today.” The Titans and Roy’s family have been trading off shifts since Roy left Star Labs. “You trust me, right? I would never let anything bad happen to him.”
Lian’s face goes beet red, anger overpowering the tears. “You got him shot in the heart before!” Dick winces. He wonders if Lian made that connection herself or overheard the accusation from someone else.
“Guilty.” He doesn’t have an excuse. He was in charge. The leader. He’s gotten Roy beaten, stabbed, and shot a dozen times over. “But I’m not Nightwing right now. I’m just Dick.”
“Same thing.” She kicks a stack of boxes over.
“Nah. Nightwing’s a leader. Dick’s just some guy. A guy that won’t be making stupid decisions that Arsenal shot.” He’s always kept minimal difference between Dick and Nightwing, switching fluidly between the two. But it’s Nightwing that led the Titans and the Outsiders. His friends are on equal footing when he’s out of the mask. “No missions. I promise.”
Her eyes flash angrily. She throws a jumper at him, and he catches it easily. “I don’t trust you.” And that hurts, because he remembers a time when Lian used to look at him, and all the Titans really, with stars in her eyes. There was a time when he looked at Bruce the same way. He can’t blame her.
“I don’t expect you too. Lian, look at me.” He waits. She keeps kicking boxes around. “Lian.” He spots the pair of shoes among the wreckage and snatches them up.
“Give me those.” She demands as he dangles them just out of her reach.
“Look at me.”
“URGH!”
“Lian. You’ll wake your dad up. Take a deep breath, okay?” Dinah’s going to be here any minute. “Can you look at me?” Finally, she does. “I love your dad and I would trade places with him in a heartbeat if I could. I’ve made mistakes and I’m trying to fix them. Sorry isn’t good enough, but sweetheart, I’m trying.” He passes her the shoes as the doorbell rings. “Let’s get these on and go, alright?”
“I hate you.” But she puts the shoes on. “I hate this!” And walks down the stairs. “I hope you die!” He used to say that to Bruce way more often than he should. And now… he’d give anything to have him back.
“You don’t mean that, kiddo.” She hasn’t cried and she needs to. It’ll have to wait till after school. He grabs her lunchbox and backpack off the floor.
“Rough morning?” Lian runs out the door as it opens. Dinah stares at him a bit sympathetically, if not coldly. Maybe he’s imagining the underlying hostility, or maybe it’s there. He’s too tired to tell.
“It was alright.” Today was going to be hard no matter what. Which is why he volunteered for it. “I’ll tell Roy you said hi.” He passes over Lian’s things. “Be good, okay. Make him proud.”
“Whatever.” Lian storms off towards the car. Dinah smiles apologetically. He shrugs. There’s not much he can do. Here at least, anyways.
“Thanks Dinah, have a good day.”
“You too.”
And with that, one member of the family’s taken care of. He shuts the door, locks it, and sighs. One Harper down, one Harper to check on. He takes the steps two at a time and hopes against the odds that Lian’s screaming didn’t wake Roy up.
A shrill screech yanks him out of a nightmare - a screech that’s all too familiar. He tries to yell but his voice comes out hardly above a whisper. “Lian?” She's quiet now, that can’t be a good sign.
Adrenaline courses through him. He struggles to push himself up - tries not to think about the way his skin crawls and bubbles under the bandages covering the stump that used to be his right arm. Sitting up is a mistake, pain radiates like white hot needles pricking his skin from his wound down his torso. Stomach turning and stars dancing in his eyes, he kicks his legs over the side of the bed, tries to stand, and immediately hits the ground.
Only one coherent thought stays with him through the avalanche of agony: Lian needs him. Without her he's nothing. He needs to move forward. Blindly, he reaches forward and drags himself in the direction he thinks his door is, using all his remaining strength to push his legs against the bed and propel himself forward.
Bile burns in his throat and he heaves until there's nothing left. Unconsciousness tugs at his mind, the pain too great for him to bear, but he can’t give in, not while Lian needs him - he reaches out again, dragging himself a few more inches forward. His body shakes at the effort, denying him an easy victory, every millimeter is a hard-fought battle along the warpath to his door. There’s only so much he can take, and the distance seems to grow unimaginably large the more he moves forward.
“Lian.” He tries to clear his mind, focus on her and not the way his face burns and skin crawls. You can’t run on fumes forever, his strength is sapped away quickly and harshly, years of training the only thing keeping him moving forward. What are all the years of preparation worth if he can’t protect his child? What was the point? Limits don't matter, he doesn't care if he dies, he has to get to Lian.
“Shit, Roy, stop!” Footsteps pound, rattling him and setting off the crawling once again. He can’t stop, he won't stop.
“Lian.” He wheezes, inching forward again.
“She's fine.” Strong arms tug at his useless body. “Dinah’s taking her to school.” The motion is agony, his skin bubbling and cracking, tearing and boiling. “What the hell are you doing out of bed? Let me help you-”
“Stop.” And the motion stops but the pain continues.
“Just breath.” He tries. “Deep breaths.” It hurts like hell, but he tries. “That’s great. You’re doing great.” The voice murmurs. He blinks and blue eyes swim into view.
“Dick?” It doesn't make sense for him to be here – Dick left the Titans… again. Nothing’s made sense for the last few days. Maybe this is just another nightmare... the one where bats eat Dick alive.
“Yep. Let’s get you back in bed. Try and relax, alright? Let me do the work.” Roy closes his eyes and breathes, shaking uncontrollably. His skin crawls but Dick smells like baked bread, if this isn't real it's a weirdly vivid dream.
He wishes it wasn’t real, because being carried jolts his limbs enough that he thinks he screams. Words fade in and out and he catches incoherent bits of assurances and promises, “okay’s” and “alright’s” and he can’t have heard a “love”.
He doesn’t black out as he touches down on the bed. His head throbs and his face aches, and his chest and arms are going numb with pain, but he doesn’t black out and it’s the little wins that count. “Breathe. Dammit Roy, you shouldn’t have gotten up, we’ve got things under control. Take it easy, alright?” And he is and he’s trying, and Dick is such an-
“Asshole.” He complains, which warrants a curt chuckle in response. Dick smiles at him sadly, shaking some pills out of the bottle.
“Fine, I’ll skip the lecture… I would have done the same thing. I’m sorry we woke you.” He passes Roy a cup and doesn’t let go, helping Roy guide it up to his mouth. He takes a long sip, then Dick helps him take his meds, one by one. “Midnighter tweaked the composition, he thinks these ones will help neutralize the nanites.” He has the vague feeling he’s heard that before. Dick must see his suspicion. “Hey, look on the bright side, you’re way more coherent today, so he must be doing something right.”
Roy swallows the last pill, resting back against the mountain of pillows. His head pounds and stomach flips, nausea taking effect as soon as the little tablet makes its way down his throat. There’s a hand in his and he holds it tightly, resisting the urge to throw up. Another hand makes its way into his hair, gently stroking, avoiding the cuts and burns on his scalp, providing something else to think about.
He hums lightly, lulling Roy to sleep the best he can. The hand holding his loosens ever so slightly with each passing moment. The room smells putrid, he needs to clean up the carpet, but can’t while trapped here. So, he waits for the medication to kick in and strokes what’s left of Roy’s hair. Roy should really consider getting something more protective, he hates the cowl but at the least he doesn’t have to deal with all the cuts after getting shoved into a screen. Maybe he could work up a couple of designs for when Roy’s up and at them.
Roy’s evens out and his hand’s completely limp. Dick waits for another five minutes, then carefully removes his hands, freezing as Roy sighs. He holds his breath, but Roy doesn’t wake up. Another minute passes in silence. Finally, he slowly stands, and creeps silently away from the bedside. He makes it three steps before-
“Dick?” Damn those observational skills. He cringes at the hoarseness of Roy’s voice.
“I’m right here.” Roy’s red rimmed eyes settle on him. He looks utterly exhausted, Dick hurries back to his side and takes his hand. “Go back to sleep.”
“Can’t.” A lock of hair falls between Roy’s eyes. Dick brushes it back.
“Try, you need the rest.” Roy rolls his eyes before closing them, too tired to protest. Dick kisses his knuckles. “I need to clean up.” There’s vomit on both their shirts. “And you haven’t had breakfast.”
He’s almost away from the bed a second time before he hears a whisper. “Don’t leave.”
“I’ll be right here.” He promises. Both to Roy and himself. For however long Roy needs.