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Nightwing lay motionless on the cold concrete floor of the warehouse. Head pounding and room spinning. His body was unwieldy and shaky for some frustrating reason. What the heck was going on? Wait, was there a fight? He was in his costume. How long had he been here, and how did he get here? Dick closed his eyes and tried to remember anything, but just a few hazy images came to mind, nothing out of the ordinary from a nightly patrol.
Am I late for something? Dick thought, opening his eyes to watch the rotating ventilation fan in the ceiling spin.
Eha whatever. He thought, trying and failing to make himself care.
It was hypnotizing to watch the fan rotate. Did it ever get tired of spinning? He did.
One thing he knew for sure is he felt like he'd been through a human-sized food processor, and there was foul familiar smelling smoke.
Gross.
Wait. Why was he on the floor again? Oh, whatever.
Why is it so cold? Dick thought, shivering so much for summer. It was absolutely freezing. Also, pretty sure his head was split open, or he had some brain-eating parasite. After a few dips in the harbor over the last serval months, he wouldn't be surprised at either scenario.
Brain-eating parasites would be better than bullets. He thought, thinking about the wicked scar on the side of his head. Hold on, wait, no bullets kill you faster… That was morbid.
You know what? Dick thought, realization hitting him like a ton of feathers. The smoke! It was weed!
Oh, damn, he was high.
That should have been more obvious, Dick thought a little sheepishly. His brain was really in the trash. He had gotten high before once with Roy when he was a teenager, and weed was legalized in New Jersey. But it wasn't normally kept in warehouses, right? That was weird.
Also, he wouldn't have passed out just from a hit of marijuana – something else happened. The massive headache cranked up to eleven as he tried to remember. Then he remembered the side effects of a THC overdose that Bruce drummed in his head: extreme anxiety, paranoid hallucinations, impaired judgment, racing heart, pale skin, and seizures.
That was probably it. He had probably had a seizure.
Man. And he had a streak he'd been proud of since he recovered from the whole shot in the head thing. One hundred eighty days in the trash.
Carefully he touched the back of his head. Okay, his head felt normal no blood. Now what? He thought, closing his eyes. Still not able to pull together the right emotions. His thoughts felt like water slipping through his hands.
He got lost in the ventilation fan again. It was keeping the demons out.
Eventually, he heard footsteps approaching. The thud, thud, thud, reverbed in this already thudding noggin. Dick really wasn't feeling whelmed. He tensed, ready for an ass-kicking. Those dirty demons had managed to bypass his protective fan!
Shit! Dicks breathing picked up, and his heart started racing.
Where was Constantine when you needed him?
But then he saw a familiar figure stepping towards him. Dick tried to focus his eyes. Was that Jason? Of course, it was Jason. He thought, mentally sighing; why couldn't Bab's or Zatanna ever be the one to save him? He thinks but still enjoys the release of tension.
He knew his ventilation fan would protect him.
That fan kicked ass.
Bracing himself for either a verbal beat down or a slight kick to the pants. Dick did not expect the.
"There you are, Wingding, you high as a kite?" Jason said exasperatedly, crouching down beside him. "You just stop to enjoy the fumes or what? I pegged you for way more of a nark."
Dick tried to respond, but his voice caught in his throat. Dick realized at that moment how dead tired he felt. He was too exhausted to do much of anything. Instead, Dick tried to shrug his shoulders. An interesting endeavor while lying on the ground, he found out.
Jason looked him over and nodded, trying not to panic or laugh at the sight of his already brain-addled brother lying down on the job next to a burning shipping container that smelled like Woodstock. Dick didn't look hurt. There was no blood, but Nightwing was paler than Jason liked.
"Ready? I'm going to roll you over to look at your back."
Jason quickly got to work, looking for injuries and assessing the damage. There was none.
"Shit! What's wrong? Are you just that faded?" he said, his voice laced with concern and nerves. "Are you concussed? Did you flirt with a crowbar; you know that's my thing, right?" Jason finished trying not to sound as scared as he was. Running his hands over Dicks head, chest, and arms, trying to find some reason the dork was lying here like a corpse; other than the fumes from the devil's lettuce.
Dick snorted and winced.
"We need to get you out of here. Can you walk?" Jason said as he positioned his older brother to pick him up in a fireman's carry, waiting for an answer. Dick shook his head no.
Dick grunted a little when Jason lifted him up. He tried again to find the words to tell Jason to put him down but couldn't quite find them yet. Should he be worried about that?
Nah, the fan would give him a sign if he was in danger.
Jason managed to get to his feet. He stumbled a bit under the weight of his little big brother.
"Shit!" Jason said, jarring his passenger.
Dick, for his part, just tried to breathe through his vertigo as his thoughts swam in his head.
"Hey, Nightwing, are you still with me?" Jason asked, feeling his brother go still.
Dick couldn't answer; he was too busy throwing up. Trying his best to keep it off his brother.
"Ewe gross man!" Jason yelled but stood still. Trying his best not to agitate his sick brother further.
"I can't take you anywhere." Jason snarked, patting his brother awkwardly on the back. "Let's see… Arsenal, do you have a copy?" Jason said, putting a hand up to his ear.
"Yup, loud and clear. Did you find Edwards and Strand… or Nightwing?" Roy Harper chirped through the line.
"That is a negatory good buddy on those first two. But we are going to have to call it a night. I need your help getting Nightwing to our safe house. There is something wrong with him, and I think he is high as fuck." Jason said, his voice losing the Red Hood bravado on the last part as he gently lowered his brother to sit against a wall.
"Well, shit!" Roy shot back, "How bad are we talking? Can we fix him? Also, what do you mean by high? He was normal earlier." Roy sounded nervous.
Jason examined his brother and shook his head.
"I think we can fix him." Jason said, risking pulling back Dicks mask to see his actual eyes. They were rimmed red, distant, and out of focus. Dick looked absolutely out of it. "You'll see when you get here. But put your rebreather in."
"Fuck me." Jason said angrily at the whole disaster of a night. He'd never seen Dick so out of it before.
"No, thank you." Dick said, giving Jason a shaky smile.
"Nightwing, what happened?" Jason asked.
"Red, I am at the entrance of the warehouse. Do you need help carrying him out?" Roy asked worriedly.
"If you would be a dear." Jason said into the com. Carefully he pressed the mask back over Dick's eyes. Dick locked eyes with Jason and made an annoyed face as the uncomfortable mask was pushed back on. At least he was still kind of with it.
"Just whatever you do. Don't puke on me again." Jason told Dick sliding his hands under Dicks armpits and lifting. Dick grunted but locked his legs underneath him and tried to help Jason. Jason rubbed a soft circle on Dicks shoulder while Roy jogged up to them.
"Damn." Roy said as he looked over Dick and grabbed his other side, glancing at the smoking shipping container. "He's going to be high for a week after this."
"I… Don't remember." Dick hissed as he tried to turn his head to see his brother.
"You what?" Jason shoots back, alarm bells immediately dancing in his head, was Dick's exposure to the weed giving him more complications from getting shot?
Dick shook his head, closing his eyes, feeling sick.
Why had the fan forsaken him?
Roy gave Jason a pointed look. "Did he vomit? Are you sure we don't need to get him to a hospital?"
"Yes, but I think that was because I slung him over my shoulder too fast." Jason rebutted. "No one needs to be involved in this, not yet anyway."
Dick nodded slightly in agreement. Giving one last farewell glance at the fan, his dizzy compatriot.
"You are both idiots." Roy said under his breath, walking with the other two to the car.
The car ride to the safe house was tense, as car rides in stolen vehicles tend to be. Jason couldn't believe that Arsenal stole the most pimped-out Tahoe he could lift. The car had LED rainbow underlighting and a booming subwoofer that took up most of the backseat. The car had a CD player that, try as they might, Roy could not stop from blaring some of Snoop Dogs' greatest hits.
Everyone held their breaths when a patrol car passed.
Well, everyone that was completely there anyway.
Dick curled in a ball, covering his ears as soon as he was dragged into the car, and seemed to fall into a fugue state as soon as Jason set him in the back seat. Red Hood sat next to him, keeping him somewhat upright. Arsenal gives the two concerned looks in the rearview mirror. The vibrations of the subwoofer were making Jason feel like his teeth were about to vibrate out of his skull. Then finally and blessedly, they were in front of the office building he and Roy set up as a home base.
"Stash the car. I'll take him in." Jason said, flinging the door open and carefully dragging his brother out of the car. He was grateful for the stillness of the street, though his ears were ringing. Dick moved and tried to help but really didn't do much. Jason grabbed him, flung his arm over his shoulders, and closed the car door.
"This is so not the way I had my night planned." Jason said, trying to distract himself from the sudden nerves that came up after Roy pulled away with the stolen car.
Jason turned, unlocked the door, and drug his brother into the safe house. Jason and Roy had at least one safe house in every major city of New England, but by far the rattiest, dingiest, and smallest of all of them was Bludheaven. What kind of outfit would Dick think he was running out of here? Out of it or not, he was sure Dick would make a comment. Bruce, Replacement, and Demon Brat would.
What kind of old woman was he? He shouldn't care about this right now. But he hadn't seen Dick in months. Really not since he was shot. At least not until earlier in the night when Dick offered to help them find the pimps they were hunting. Jason thought he had completely recovered from being shot in the head. Was that going to be what this was again? Was he relapsing or having a fit?
That freaked Jason out. Really anything Dick did freaked Jason out. Why did he have to care? All Jason knew was that he didn't want Dick to be this quiet again; it was unnatural. Carefully Jason lowered Dick onto the ratty pull-out couch in the corner of the room. Immediately Dick relaxed and hummed in gratitude. Jason turned on the light, and before he could move for the med kit, Dick spoke.
"Jay, turn those off, please." Dick asked, rolling over on his side and curling up, face pressed into the cushions.
Without pushing it, Jason reached over and turned the lights off. And walked back over to his brother, sitting down on the floor facing away from Dick. Jason was relieved that Dick was talking and at least remembered him.
"Alright. Spill, what happened tonight? What don't you remember? Do you still have all your marbles?" Jason asked, letting his head lean back on Dicks shoulder, hopefully in a comforting way.
Jason felt Dick sigh. "Don't tell anyone else in the League anything. Especially the pot thing." Dick said, sounding tired.
"Are you sure? This could be very juicy gossip." Dick snorted but didn't continue. "I don't have contact with the league." Jason finished feeling Dick change positions behind him, humming.
"Think I had a seizure tonight." Dick said, shrugging slightly. "I don't know why I was where I was or anything about tonight. I just woke up, and there was pot smoke. Was I supposed to meet you and Roy?" Dick asked, hoping he didn't leave Jason hanging.
Jason felt like he had been slapped. Dick had seizures, and people let him keep being Nightwing?! Or wait, one of Bruce's lessons rang a bell in the back of his head. Was it because of Marijuana? He stood up and whipped around, looking at his brother, who was startled from his position on the couch and in a feeble half-sitting position trying to sit up straight.
"Is this a recurring problem!? What the fuck are you even doing out here?" Jason said, furious.
Of course, Roy chooses that moment to walk in the door.
"You probably shouldn't yell at our guest like that." Roy said, walking in and starting to take his costume off. Acting like standing in front of his friends in his boxers is normal.
"Roy, Kicky Foot here said he thinks he had a seizure." Jason spat, glaring at his older brother.
Roy stood there staring at the two in his boxers and socks. He wished the safe house had more than one room and that he didn't have to have conversations about concerning topics in his undies. Roy settled on just shooting Dick a pointed glare.
Dick rolled his eyes somewhat, then started to look a little green.
"Guys, I hadn't had one in months. The only reason I think it happened was the burning drugs." Dick said furiously, trying to stand and face Jason but not quite making it.
Jason saw Dick falter and grabbed his arm, pushing him back on the couch.
"When was your last seizure?" Roy finally asked, now at least in a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt.
"December." Dick said, relaxing on the couch.
Jason dropped down next to him. If dick was telling the truth, he hadn't had any problems in 6 months. That didn't mean this still wouldn't be an issue going forward.
"Alright, why shouldn't we tell B?" Roy asked, sitting on the other side of Dick. Slinging his arm over the younger hero's shoulders.
"Because I have it taken care of, I take medication." Dick said, giving up on sitting up straight and leaning on Roy in the standard 'I'm Dick Grayson, love me and let me do whatever I want' way.
"It was a one-off." Dick said, shivering, weed chills digging in.
Jason visibly softened at Dicks pathetic appearance. Finally, starting to pull off his red hood gear.
"Whatever, we will let it slide tonight, but you're staying here." Jason said, his tone letting his brother know there was no getting out of it.
"Thanks." Dick said. "Wait, is this place your only safe house in the city? This is only one room. Where am I going to sleep? Dick asks, sitting up to look around for the first time.
"With Roy and I." Jason said, trying not to let his evil grin show.
"This IS a pretty nice pull-out couch." Roy said, laughing at the color draining from Dicks face.
"Oh god, please take me home." Dick said, not wanting to be part of a Bat and Arrow sandwich.
But even 20 mins later, stuck between Roy and Jason on the lumpy pull-out, Dick was grateful to have his brother and his friend watch his back.
-Fin-