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Dick wasn’t sure when the pain had first started; it had been a constant companion for so long now that he couldn’t imagine a time without it. It just came with a life of crimefighting. The broken bones, the knives, the bullets, the shrapnel he clawed out of his skin, all of it had a way of settling in his bloodstream. It hadn’t been that alarming at first, not really. A broken ankle, that was all.
“Lucky shot!” Insisted eleven-year-old Dick, crossing his arms and scowling right back at Bruce across the medical bed while Alfred tended to him. “We both know metal pipes are usually low-accuracy weapons!”
“That is no excuse for carelessness,” growled Bruce, fists clenched and jaw rigid. “You are going to be on crutches for at least three months now. During that time, there will be no acrobatics and certainly no Robin.”
Dick rolled his eyes.
“Really? What, you don't think a crutch would make for a good weapon?” He asked sarcastically, and Bruce’s scowl deepened.
Dick didn't flinch. First off, Bruce would rather die than hurt him. Second off, he wasn't actually mad. The man’s emotions were like a game of connecting strings, and his concern thread was irretrievably tangled with his anger one. It would have been more endearing if it weren't so frustrating because it wasn't like Dick wasn't upset too. He was the one with the broken ankle! The last thing he needed right then was to also be bickering with Bruce or blamed for his own Grayson luck. Besides, it had been a long day and he just wasn't in the mood.
“If you had been paying better attention—”
“Then maybe someone else would have gotten the drop on me. Face it, Bruce, I'm not always going to walk out unscathed,” spat Dick. “So stop acting like I didn't do my best.”
Bruce’s lips curled back like they always did before he said something truly cruel, and Dick braced himself for the verbal blow.
“That is quite enough,” cut in Alfred, holding up a hand to silence Bruce. “Master Dick requires rest. The rest of this conversation shall be tabled for later.”
Bruce sputtered, and Alfred rested his hand on Dick’s shoulder with a severe look at his caped son. “I suggest you change while I make dinner. We are having pot roast tonight.”
It was one of Dick’s favorites. Bruce seethed and turned, storming out of the room like a Category 5 Hurricane. Dick only released his breath when his footsteps faded, turning a small smile on Alfred.
“Thanks, Alf.”
“I do not know what you refer to. Please get some rest, Master Dick,” replied Alfred, gently tucking Dick into bed and resting a hand on his head. “You did well tonight.”
Dick hummed, letting his eyes slide closed and every one of his aching muscles relax. Sleep claimed him in seconds.
Months dragged on into a year and Dick’s patience ran thin. He had waited it out, used the crutches and boot assigned to him by Dr. Thompkins, and followed through with the months of physical therapy that came afterwards. According to everyone, he did everything right.
So why did the joint keep popping? Why did sharp pain arc through the bone and settle in his muscles with each wrong step, as if threatening to snap again at the slightest provocation? Suddenly, running across rooftops was no longer a thrilling exploit or another cackling adventure. Instead, it became a matter of one foot in front of the other, of constant rebalancing, of gritting his teeth through the sparks of agony that flared whenever they felt like it.
But Dick was an acrobat. He was flexible. He adapted.
He spent extra time doing ankle stretches during warm ups and strapped on ankle braces every night beneath his uniform despite Bruce’s pointed inquiries. And then, when his ankle twisted or folded underneath him and sent him sprawling to the floor in school again, he started stuffing braces in his school bag too. Barbara arched an eyebrow at him the first time he pulled one out while faceplanted on the floor, but she helped him up and secured the brace around his ankle like it was second nature already. No fuss, no screaming, nothing but steady support and silent reassurance. Dick didn’t think he’d ever appreciated her more.
Over time, it just became another quirk of his body. Like his double joints or the eclectic collection of scars criss-crossing his skin. The stabbing pain went from knocking him off his feet to a familiar agony to smile through, nothing more and nothing less. Bruce stopped sending his braces stormy looks every time he donned them for patrol, Alfred adjusted how early to call Dick down to patrol so he could stretch the aching muscles to his heart’s content, and eventually everyone just moved on. Dick was pretty sure most people forgot he had a bad ankle at all, and that was exactly how he liked it. In fact, if it were up to him, no one would ever have known about it in the first place.
So when he helped found Young Justice, revealing one of his greatest weaknesses was high on his no-thanks list. Sure, his teammates were great and all, but the last thing he needed was pitying looks and constant concern if the acrobat was going to faceplant or not. He didn’t need them fussing over him. Ever.
“Rob, you made it!” Exclaimed Wally, zipping across the room as the Zeta Tube announced Dick’s presence, and scooping his best friend into a hug.
Dick barely managed to bite back a groan of pain at the sudden movement. His ankle had been flared up all day and for no reason. He didn’t even patrol last night and hadn’t rolled his ankle during school, so there was no reason for it to hurt. But here it was. Hurting. Because of course it was.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” replied Dick, wrapping his arms and Wally and barely resisting the urge to melt into the hug. “Especially since I’m against Artie today!”
“That excited to get your butt kicked, Boy Blunder?” Called Artemis, striding across the room towards them.
“Yeah, you wish!” Replied Dick with a cackle that didn’t feel real.
Honestly, he had been so close to begging off of training today solely because he knew he was paired with Artemis. She was no pushover on a good day, and today was distinctly not a good day. It wasn’t even a whelmed day. But if he had begged off training, Alfred and Bruce would ask why he wasn’t feeling up to going, and then he would have to admit that his ankle still bothered him a year after his initial injury. He liked it better when they forgot. Then, at least, they didn’t look so damn disappointed.
“I will be training with you, Connor,” said Kaldur, placing a hand on thor teammate’s shoulder and offering him a smile. “I look forward to our session.”
“Should be a blast,” agreed Connor, folding his arms and returning the smile with a warm one of his own; he was more and more comfortable the longer they were together.
“Miss M, you shall be with me,” declared Wally with an extravagant flourish accompanied by a bow.
M’gann giggled, shaking her head fondly as she flew to his side.
“I am sure we will get along floatingly,” she replied, clapping her hands together.
“Miss M, the phrase is swimmingly,” corrected Artemis, and Dick wrinkled his nose.
“But why is that? How does swimming equate to something going well?” Complained Dick, waving a hand through the air as he spoke and subtly shifting the weight off his left ankle. “If it means something happening with ease, then whoever suggested that has never swam.”
“That depends on the swimmer,” said Kaldur with a shrug, and Dick joined Wally in shooting him the most unimpressed look possible. “But that is beside the point. Everyone, spread out and take your stances.”
Dick barely bit back a grimace as he strode across the room with Artemis dogging his heels. It felt like someone had wrapped a barbed wire whip around his ankle and was slowly pulling it tighter and tighter the more he walked.
“You’re awfully quiet,” observed Artemis, suspicion coloring her voice, and Dick cursed internally.
He threw a smile over his shoulder and took his position.
“Just thinking about throwing a pizza party after I beat you.”
“Pizza to comfort you after your loss? Not a bad idea,” replied Artemis, dropping into a fighting stance.
Dick usually preferred to wait until his opponent made the first move, but today it was essential that he controlled the flow of the fight. So the second Kaldur called start, he lunged. Artemis’ eyes widened as he launched a roundhouse kick at her head, his leg snapping like a python’s fangs. Artemis threw up a block that sent pain shooting down his leg like poison, and Dick swallowed down his wince as he dropped and swept at her legs. Artemis hopped over him gracefully and threw a punch at his chest. Dick backflipped away, shifting his weight in midair to land almost entirely on his right ankle instead of his left. If he had placed any additional weight on his bad ankle right then, there was no way he would have been able to hide the wince—
Artemis leapt at him like a cat, slamming her palms into Dick’s shoulders, and his ankles bent backwards. Dick bit his tongue hard and folded his knees, rolling to the ground and kicking Artemis off of him in one smooth movement. His ankle was screaming as it took all of Artemis’ weight and then launched it across the room, and Dick came up kneeling with a silent hiss of pain. Artemis flipped through the air and landed on her feet, but Dick was only half paying attention. Every muscle in his ankle was on fire, there was acid eating away at his bones, and his blood was slowly tearing him apart from the inside out. All Dick wanted to do was go home and curl up in his bed with some ice on his ankle and a video game in his hand.
Instead, Artemis shot towards him like a viper, her eyes catching the light and glinting brutally, and something hot surged inside of Dick. He was in pain and tired and wanted to go home. So when Artemis threw a punch, Dick ducked beneath it. He caught her wrist and twisted, flipping her over his shoulder and slamming her into the ground full-force. Artemis barely tucked her head in time to avoid a concussion, and the THUD echoed throughout the training room. Dick shifted to yank Artemis into an arm lock, and her eyes barely widened before she was tapping out.
Dick sighed in relief, stepping back and offering Artemis a hand.
“Nice one, Artemis.”
Artemis rubbed her chest as she caught her breath, thunking her head against the ground and glaring up at him.
“Oh please,” she grumbled, reaching out to seize his palm. “You hardly batted an eye.”
Was that what it looked like? Dick had barely been holding himself together the entire time, and all he could be was grateful that it was over now.
“Give yourself some credit,” he settled on. “You threw me off with that lunge.”
“Figured I had to do something unexpected,” explained Artemis, and Dick moved to haul her to her feet.
As he shifted his weight backwards, agony lanced through his ankle and his vision spun with black dots. He froze just as Artemis got her feet under her and pulled.
Dick collapsed forwards, crumpling like a sand castle into Artemis’ shoulder. Artemis rocked backwards, her body flowing with his, one arm wrapping around his back reflexively.
“Robin?” She choked out. “Robin?!”
“I’m fine—” Tried Dick, shifting to stand back up, and his ankle wobbled dangerously beneath him.
“The hell you are!” Protested Artemis, her arms extended to catch him, and Dick plastered a smile on his face.
“What’s going on?” Called Kaldur, and Dick waved him off.
“Lost my balance, no big deal,” he replied.
Big mistake.
“Lost your—”
Wally whipped across the room, catching Dick’s shoulder in one hand and pressing his lips to Dick’s forehead. Dick flushed bright red and swallowed roughly.
“No fever…” muttered Wally, pulling back and scowling down at Dick, practically vibrating with worry. “Are you feeling okay? Nauseous? Lightheaded? Have you had enough water? Sleep? Food?”
“Wally, feel the aster,” replied Dick, rolling his eyes and pulling away. “I’m fine. See?”
Dick backflipped into a one-handed handstand, ignoring the searing pain arcing through his ankle, and threw on his performer’s smile. “Could someone who's not fine do this?”
“Yeah, a ninja acrobat could,” shot back Artemis, climbing to her feet and folding her arms, eyes roving his body.
M’gann frowned, cocking her head as she studied him.
Robin? She prodded tentatively. Is everything alright?
Dammit, that wasn't playing fair. Because without meaning to, Dick’s immediate instinct was to laugh. A half-maniacal cackle that came from something bitter and half-dead inside of him. M’gann reeled back, eyes wide and crinkling around the edges. Sorrow was etched in each line.
“Robin, perhaps you should rest today—” she tried gently, and Dick couldn't help the way he pulled back from her outstretched hand.
“No, I'm fine!” He insisted, shoulders curling in and fists clenching. “I can train just fine.”
“Can?” Cut in Kaldur, arching an eyebrow and crossing his arm. “Or should?”
Dick gritted his teeth and stepped forward to tell Kaldur exactly where he could shove his concern when pain exploded across his ankle. He reeled back, his vision going fuzzy with agony, and stumbled. If the pain before was an explosion, those few sloppy steps were something unknown to man. Dick’s knees buckled under the force of it and he went down hard.
Screams flooded his ears, everyone shouting at once, and he was pretty sure his own voice was amongst them, howling as if that would make the pain stop. Arms wrapped around him with a speed but gentleness that was undeniably Wally, flipping him from his side onto his back like a turtle. Dick didn't let go of his ankle, clutching it like he could ease the agony with enough pressure. His eyes had slammed shut at some point and he had no intention of opening them no matter what anyone said—
“Robin!” Cried Artemis, her touch featherlight as she cradled the back of his neck with one hand and his cheek with the other. “Hey, breathe. Look at me.”
Dick's eyes cracked open, his teeth clamping shut around a hiss as someone gently pulled his hands away from his ankle, another set prodding at it.
“There you are,” breathed Artemis, a tentative smile lighting up her face.
Dick tried to return the gesture, but someone applied pressure to his ankle and he threw back his head so hard he slammed it into the floor.
“Robin!”
“Stop that!” Snapped Wally, glaring at someone over his shoulder. “You're hurting him!”
“My apologies, Robin,” said Kaldur.
Dick’s attempt to say it’s fine was reduced to a groan of pain, and Artemis gritted her teeth. She swatted someone away and Dick let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
“Can you guys not crowd him?” Growled Artemis, pulling Dick closer to her protectively.
“We’re just worried—”
“I said back off!”
“Everyone, calm down,” soothed Kaldur. “We are all concerned for Robin. Let us work together as a team. M’gann, go get an ice pack; it looks swollen. Connor, grab the first aid kit. I will check for any broken bones.”
“Do you really think Robin was training on a broken ankle?” Grumbled Connor, crossing his arms and scowling.
“I am not ruling out the possibility,” admitted Kaldur, shaking his head. “Robin is very stubborn. I do not even know when he got injured—”
“I’m right here,” snapped Dick. “And I didn't injure anything. It's just…like this sometimes.”
The room went pin-drop silent. Kaldur crouched beside Dick, who was stubbornly refusing to make eye contact with anyone.
“What do you mean by that, my friend?”
“Exactly what I said,” groaned Dick, shaking his head and giving in to the inevitable. “I broke it a few years back and I guess it just never healed right. Sometimes it just…hurts.”
“How often?”
“What, you think I keep a calendar?” Shot back Dick, rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses.
“Robin,” warned Kaldur, but Dick just glared back at him.
Whatever Kaldur wanted from him, he wasn't in the mood. He just wanted to go home.
“Uh, I'll get that ice,” offered M’gann, flying off quickly to escape the tense silence.
“First aid kit,” mumbled Connor, dashing off as well.
Dick just kept staring back at Kaldur. Artemis sighed, shaking her head, and using the hand not cradling his neck to turn his face towards her.
“What do you need from us?” She asked.
“Yeah, everything else can wait,” agreed Wally. “What can we do, Rob?”
Kaldur pursed his lips, but nodded silently. Dick rubbed his eyes and let out a sigh that came from the depths of his soul. He dropped his arm and glared at the ceiling.
“RICE.”
“Huh?” Asked Wally and Artemis in unison, looking at each other with confusion. “You want…rice?”
“He means rest, ice, compression, and elevation. It's the four steps of treating inflammation,” explained Kaldur. “Let us move to the couch; we will stack pillows beneath your ankle.”
That involved standing and walking, so that was a solid no thanks. Wally nodded at Kaldur and scooped Dick into his arms.
“Aaaaaand up we go!” He said cheerily, shooting across the training room and down the hall.
Dick melted into Wally’s arms, leaning his head on his best friend’s chest and listening to his heartbeat. It was so soothing. He could stay here forever.
“Alright, choo choo!” Declared Wally, skidding to a stop in front of the couch. “We’re at your stop!”
“Thanks, Walls,” croaked Dick, clearing his throat and trying to hide his blush.
“No problem,” chirped Wally, snagging pillows and glancing at Dick’s ankle with a crease between his brows. “Do you want to lift it or do you want me to?”
Dick winced at the idea of either option. Honestly, the last thing he wanted to do was move it at all, but if he had to pick…
“Hold on,” called M’gann, flying in from the kitchen with a blue ice pack in her hand. “Let me.”
Her eyes glowed and warmth spread over Dick’s ankle, gently levitating it into the air. Wally beamed and slid pillows beneath it while Dick was finally able to throw a smile at M’gann.
“Thanks, Miss M.”
“No need to thank me,” she corrected, placing the ice pack gently on top of his ankle and using her telekinesis to adjust it. “It’s just what friends do.”
“What M’gann said,” agreed Connor, striding into the room with the first aid kit. “We’re your friends. We’ve got your back.”
Dick’s smile trembled and he glanced down. His fingers clenched around his pants, shaking the slightest bit under the force of it. Wally laid a hand atop them, catching his attention, but he refused to look up.
“He’s right, we’re your friends. You know we’ve got your back,” said Wally, his voice unbearably sad. “So why didn't you tell us?”
Dick swallowed, his throat bobbing, and kept his eyes turned studiously away. He heard two sets of footsteps quietly make their way into the room, and sighed. There was no escaping this. May as well get it over with.
“You’re right. You are my friends,” he said softly. “My equals. I wanted to keep it that way.”
His fingers tightened their grip until they were almost ripping through his pants, and Wally rubbed a thumb gently over his knuckles. “The last thing I want is to be the weak link in this team just because my stupid ankle decided not to heal properly. I don't need your concern and I certainly don't need your pity. I don't need you constantly looking to see if I'm falling behind or hurting or…or anything like that.”
I didn't want you to see how broken I was and walk out on me.
The last part went unsaid, but the team heard it loud and clear anyway. Stupid mental link betraying him for the second time that day. M’gann pressed a hand to her lips, tears pooling in her eyes, and Connor looked away. Kaldur stared at Dick like he was seeing him for the first time, and Artemis’ face twisted in rage just as Wally’s did in heartbreak.
“How could you possibly think that?” Cried Artemis, her words overlapping with Wally’s whispered, “How could you possibly think that?”
Dick just gave a one-shouldered shrug, but his thoughts were running a mile a minute and all of his usual mental defenses were lying in shambles on the floor, shattered by the pain still flooding his ankle.
Because I would walk out on me if I could.
Dick growled and moved to stand up, ankle be damned, but Wally shoved him back down, his hand lingering on Dick’s chest like he could infuse him with love if he waited long enough.
“I knew you were a dumbass,” said Artemis slowly, kneeling beside the couch while Wally settled just beyond his feet. “I had no idea you were that much of one.”
“Look,” started Wally, and Dick kept his eyes averted from his entire team; he could hear M’gann crying and Connor comforting her, but he didn't want to see it. “I could go on all day about how amazing you are—”
Spare me.
“Yeah, kind of figured. But listen to me when I say that you're my best friend in the whole world. What do you think being a friend means to me?”
Everything. It means everything.
“Exactly,” whispered Wally, tipping Dick’s chin up and locking their gazes. “You mean everything to me. I won't leave you, especially because you're hurting.”
“Kid Mouth said it perfectly,” declared Artemis, wrapping an arm around Dick’s shoulders and leaning her forehead on his arm. “You never once left me behind. Let me return the favor.”
Dick bit his trembling lip and leaned his head against Artemis’. He flipped a hand over and Wally interlaced their fingers without a second thought. M’gann floated behind him, throwing her arms around his back and hiding her tears in his hair. Connor made his way over, rubbing the back of his neck, and sat down beside Artemis. He rested a hand on Dick’s knee as if saying I’m here, I’m right here. Kaldur sighed and shook his head, stepping over and resting a hand on Dick’s free shoulder.
“I had no idea you felt that way, my friend,” he murmured. “But if it takes a lifetime to convince you otherwise, then my life is yours. Call me and I will come running. You are my friend.”
“Same here,” muttered Connor. “Just…don't do this again. Please.”
Dick blinked hard, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a shaky breath. He couldn't cry, not here, not now. Not when they had already seen him so vulnerable and weak and—
“Stop thinking,” scolded Artemis. “Just…just let yourself exist, Robin. We want you to exist here, right now, with us.”
The dam broke. Tears slid down his face, his shoulders hitching with repressed sobs, and he turned to bury his face in Artemis’ hair. Wally made a soft sound like a kicked puppy and reached out, squeezing Dick’s until his knuckles turned white. M’gann cried along with Dick, taking all of his pain as her own, and Connor patted his knee with a gentleness that came from knowing how brutal he could be. Kaldur kept his hand on Dick’s shoulder like an anchor, tethering him to his team, to the people who were seeing him at his lowest and only holding him closer. They weren't running, they weren't mocking, they weren't disappointed, they weren't pitying. No, they were…they were loving. They loved him.
The realization just made Dick cry harder. He sobbed until his throat hurt, until his shoulders nearly shook Kaldur’s hand off, until his heart wrung itself dry. The sun lowered down in the sky, painting the clouds beautiful colors, and Dick missed it all as he cried for everything he believed about himself and everything his teammates saw in him. No, not his teammates. His family. He had a family again. Not just a father and a grandfather. A whole family. People who would come if he called. People who looked at him with unconditional faith and love. They believed he would come for them, so shouldn't he do the same for them?
By the time Dick finally wiped away the last of his tears, the stars were twinkling outside. He breathed slowly, a few leftover hitches in his breath, and Artemis gently pulled back. She turned his face a little until their foreheads were pressed together and they were barely a breath away from each other.
“Stay?” She whispered. “We can have a team sleepover. That’ll be the new training exercise for the night: building pillow forts.”
“Careful,” replied Dick, his words wobbly but there and maybe that was enough… “I was trained.”
“Of course you were!” Replied Artemis, bursting into laughter, which rippled out through the team until the room was filled with giggles and chuckles and the sort of warmth that Dick sometimes feared he’d lost with the circus. “Come on, Robin. Let's have some fun.”
And that's just what they did. Dick directed everyone from his comfy perch on the couch and Wally zipped around, following his every direction. M’gann floated off to bake sweets for everyone and Connor joined her while Kaldur sat beside Dick and occasionally threw out suggestions, but mostly he was just…there. Beside Dick. Like there was nowhere else he’d rather be.
And maybe, just maybe, as Dick was surrounded by sheets, by pillows and baked goods and family, by all the love he had denied himself, maybe he could start to believe that.