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The ground shakes, and there’s a loud crash as the tunnel collapses and rocks slide into each other. People scream, Dick screams—high pitched and blood-curdling as he’s forced to the ground by one of the rocks. Immediately, he can tell that there’s something wrong with his leg, the severe pain being the first indicator.
His vision is covered in black spots, and he’s dizzy, feels like he’s about to lose his balance, which logically he knows isn’t possible because he can feel the hard, rocky ground press against his back. He thinks he’s about to pass out. Maybe he already did.
The crashing stops, the screaming stops. It’s dark and silent and it's suffocating.
“Nnn,” Dick groans, curling his fingers into the ground and trying to figure out what happened. He and the other Teen Titans had been in a tunnel chasing the HIVE. They must have brought the tunnel down, most likely trapping them.
A face appears above him. The lighting is dim, but Dick can make out a yellow mask, the red hair—Wally.
“Stay with me, Rob,” Wally tells him, grabbing his hand tightly. “Everything’s going to be okay. Just breathe.” Wally turns around. “Guys, I think he’s in shock.”
“Am not,” Dick insists. He pushes himself up on his elbows, trying to get a look at what landed on his leg. Legs. It looks like there’s a giant slab of rock pinning him, plus a few rocks covering that. He can move his left leg just fine, although it’s definitely stuck. He tries to move his right leg—“Ahh!”
“What happened?” Wally asks, hands on Dick’s shoulders. “What’s wrong? Say something!”
Dick pants, trying to control himself. “My leg. It’s broken.” Shattered, crushed. Hopefully still attached. “Nnn.”
“Can you move it?” Garth asks, appearing next to Wally.
“What do you think made me scream?” Dick snaps as Roy comes out of nowhere and slaps Garth in the back of the head.
“Ow,” Garth says, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry, stupid question.”
Dick shakes his head. “Is everyone else okay? Where’s Wonder Girl?”
“I’m right here,” Donna says as she moves into his field of vision. “And I think the rest of us are okay. Just scrapes and bruises.”
“Good.”
Dick pushes himself up on his elbows again. He stares at the rock slab—that will be their biggest problem in terms of getting Dick back to the jet. Actually, maybe they shouldn’t try to move him at all. He tries to remember what Bruce and Alfred told him about crush injuries. It’s fuzzy, but he’s pretty sure there are medical interventions that need to be in place prior to extrication in order to reduce the risk of crush syndrome. He should probably avoid that.
“What’s the plan?” Roy asks. “Should we try to dig our way out or what?”
“Maybe we should call for help,” Garth says. “Robin’s really hurt.”
Dick lifts a hand and scrubs at his face. “Can we get a signal?”
Everyone pulls out their devices and checks—no luck.
“HIVE is probably messing with them,” Wally grumbles. “No way the rocks are causing this.”
Dick hums in agreement; even though they’re deep in the tunnels, they’d had signal just fine before the collapse.
“The tunnel seems pretty stable,” Donna says. “I think we could dig ourselves out without risking a total collapse.”
Dick eases himself back down. “Okay. Do that. But don’t try to get me out yet. Taking the pressure off without medical supplies probably isn’t a good idea.” For one, he could be bleeding, and the pressure from the rock might be the only thing keeping him alive. If that’s the case, a few gauze pads aren’t going to cut it.
“Kid Flash, stay with Robin,” Donna says, standing up from her spot on the ground. “The rest of us will make an exit.”
Forty minutes later, Dick’s feeling a lot worse. The pain is making it hard to think, and for some reason, he feels slightly out of breath. The dizziness has returned, too, and now he feels cold and clammy. He’s also really thirsty, but Wally’s denying him water.
He’s probably going into shock, he realizes.
Footsteps pound down the tunnel as the rest of the Titans run back to them, cheering about their success.
Wally taps Dick’s cheek, and Dick’s eyes open. Wally’s smiling. “Almost home free,” he says.
Dick hums and lets his eyes close. He’s cold, shivering, and it’s sending sparks of pain down his leg.
The footsteps come to a stop, and Dick can hear Roy’s heavy breathing as he recovers from the sprint.
“How’s Robin?” Roy asks.
“He’s hanging in there,” Wally says. “He’s in a lot of pain, though, and he’s been fading.” Quietly, he adds, “I think he’s going into shock.”
Dick doesn’t argue this time. All he says is, “Call for an emergency medical evac.”
“What do think we’re trying to do, short pants?” Roy asks.
Wally stands. “I’ll run back to the jet and send a message from there. Sit tight.”
With a whoosh, Wally is gone.
Wally should have been back within minutes—fifteen, at the most—but he’s not. After thirty minutes, they’re concerned. After forty-five, they’re ready to form a search party.
“Maybe there was a problem with the communicators on the jet?” Garth suggests.
“Or maybe he found trouble,” Roy says. “He probably himself captured.”
Donna stands. “I’ll go look for him.”
Dick feels eyes on him, like they’re waiting for him to agree, to give them their orders. He swallows. “Assuming you find Wally en route and he’s hurt, how long will it take you to get to the jet and fly it back here?”
Donna exhales, sends her eyes to the sky. “Um, thirty minutes maybe? Give or take, and not accounting for any first aid Wally might need, or if he’s not en route.”
Dick runs a hand over his face. “Okay.” He hates to think of Wally hurt or kidnapped and waiting for rescue, but splitting up without communication isn’t a good idea. What will they do if Donna disappears next? “New plan. Communication is the priority right now. If you find Wally en route, great, but if not, you need to get to the jet and bring it back here with our emergency comms. Maybe we can even use the jet to get his location.”
Donna nods. “Okay.”
“And take someone with you.”
Roy stands up. “I’ll go.”
Roy and Donna smile at each other briefly, and Garth moves closer to Dick.
“Forty-five minutes,” Dick tells them as they leave.
Once they’re alone, Garth asks, “What if they don’t come back?”
Dick hadn’t thought about that. He’s hoping sending two people instead of one will prevent that. But now it’s just him and Garth—just Garth, if he’s being honest about his condition.
“I don’t know,” Dick says, shivering. Garth scoots closer, trying to offer Dick some warmth. “You’ll either need to leave me here and try to contact the League some other way, or you’ll have to get me out.”
They almost think it’s going to come to that, and Dick and Garth are still arguing over whether or not Garth should leave Dick behind when Donna, Roy, and Wally return a little over the one-hour mark.
“What happened?” Dick asks, turning his head as much as he can to look at them. Donna and Roy are on either side of Wally, and Wally has a splint around his leg.
“Ran into trouble,” Wally says, smiling. “Some members of the HIVE found me and broke my leg before trapping me in some kind of foam—reminded me of the stuff in one of Speedy’s arrows.”
“They probably stole it,” Roy says. “The same chemical melts both.”
“So that took a minute. Plus, the jet was damaged,” Donna explains as she and Roy set Wally down. “We were able to get it up and running, but it’s . . . it’s probably not safe to fly right now. And communication is still down.”
Shit.
They don’t have a ton of medical supplies on the jet. And, honestly, they’re not entirely sure what to do here. They all know basic first aid, but there’s no bleeding to stop, no need for CPR. And they’re terrified of doing something that might make Dick’s condition worse. So, they try a minimally invasive approach: they give Dick a shot of painkillers and wrap him up in an emergency blanket. Dick seems to be doing a little better after that. At least he’s more relaxed.
Donna and Garth head out to try to find what’s blocking communication, leaving Roy to guard Dick and Wally.
Dick doesn’t know how much time passes, but he thinks it must be hours. Donna and Garth pop back in to give updates occasionally, and at one point Roy leaves with them.
When they return, they’re grinning—they were able to contact the League.
It takes about twenty minutes after that for the Justice League’s medical team to arrive, and with them is Green Lantern.
The paramedics get to work, asking Dick questions and getting his vitals. The painkillers his team gave him have worn off, and he’s near his limit.
“Okay, Robin,” the paramedic closest to him says. “I’m going to give you something to help with the pain, but first we need to start an IV.”
They cut away at his suit and quickly place the IV. They push some kind of medication into the line and then hook him up to saline. They also place stickers on his chest for an ECG.
While all of this is happening, the other Titans sit together against the wall, watching him intently.
The one paramedic is preparing some other medications, while the other is down by his leg, setting up material for a tourniquet to keep on standby. Dick hopes they don’t have to use it, both because of the implications of what that means for his leg and overall condition, but also because he knows it will hurt, and he’s not sure how much more he can take.
They give him another dose of painkillers, and a few minutes later, Green Lantern removes the rock from his leg. Dick bites his hand to keep from screaming, but it doesn’t really work. Neither do the paramedics’ reassurances that he’s doing great and the pain will be under control soon.
He sees Donna turn her head into Roy’s shoulder.
“Robin, I know it hurts, but can you move your leg at all?”
Dick curls his toes with a shaky breath, nodding and gasping. “It hurts.”
“I know sweetheart, and we’re doing everything we can.” Fingers press against his leg. “Can you feel this?”
Dick nods again, staring at the ceiling. Something has dried on his cheeks, making them itch, and he realizes then that he must have been crying at some point.
“That’s a good sign,” the paramedic encourages.
Dick gets a glance at his leg before they cover it in bandages and splint it. It looks bad.
The paramedics maneuver Dick onto a gurney, and the Titans are still huddled together against the wall, trying to stay out of their way. Dick looks over at them. “Find the HIVE,” he orders.
“They’re long gone by now,” Roy points out.
And yeah, Dick probably should’ve given them that order as soon as Donna, Garth, and Roy came back with working communicators and confirmation that help was on the way, but he’d been focused on other things. “Try.”
“We need to move,” the paramedic tells him, urgency in her voice, as the other paramedic stares intently at the heart monitor.
Dick nods, giving them permission to take him from his team.
And that’s when things start to get really fuzzy.
Dick remembers the paramedics giving each other concerned looks and calling base for a consult en route to the watchtower. He remembers Bruce waiting for him at the entrance with a grim look on his face, and he remembers Bruce’s hand worming under the blankets to hold Dick’s. (Did Dick squeeze back? He’d meant to.)
He knows Bruce spoke to him, but Dick couldn’t understand what was being said.
He remembers pain and waking up after surgery, and so many machines and doctors.
And he remembers his back hurting, and his chest hurting, and how none of that made sense because it was his leg that had been crushed.
He remembers doctors taking his blood and asking him questions, and Bruce never leaving him for a moment.
He remembers the doctors moving him to another room, and that the Titans had been in the hallway, huddled together just like they’d been in the tunnel. They were wearing civilian clothes, and Wally had a green cast on his leg. All of them looked like they’d been crying.
Dick remembers waving at them, but he doesn’t think it cheered them up.
He remembers pain and not being able to stay awake. He remembers a tube being shoved down his throat, with promises that he wouldn’t remember it later (he did, does).
He remembers Bruce and Alfred, and the two of them telling him it was alright to let go.
“Cough.”
Dick does, and as he coughs, the tube is pulled from his throat. He takes a breath, and Bruce smiles at him.
“Hi,” Dick says, voice rough from disuse.
“Hi,” Bruce says, squeezing Dick’s hand tightly.
The doctor steps forward with his own smile. He asks Dick a few questions—do you remember what happened, are you in any pain—and begins to fill him in on his condition.
He sustained a severe crush injury to his right leg, and he quickly developed crush syndrome. He experienced cardiac arrhythmias, went into renal failure, and developed sepsis sometime after his first surgery.
Despite their best efforts, they weren’t able to save his leg.
After nearly four weeks in the Watchtower’s ICU, his doctors deem him stable enough to move to the regular ward. It’s progress, but Dick’s still exhausted and sleeping most of the time. It’s frustrating, but everyone tells him it’s normal. He’s been through a lot, after all: multiple surgeries, renal failure, dialysis, sepsis, a medically induced coma, an amputation. He nearly died, multiple times.
He doesn’t think all of what he’s been through has really sunk in yet, and he’s not looking forward to the repercussions when it does. So, he tries not to think about it.
He’s also been really nauseous, which is making it hard to eat. And apparently he needs to get over that because he’s lost a lot of weight—and it’s too much to blame it on the missing leg.
But he’s making progress! He’s started working with a physical therapist, and soon they’ll let Dick walk around on crutches. He can go home shortly after that. Plus, now that he’s out of the ICU, he will be allowed to have visitors other than Bruce and Alfred.
So, yes, progress is slow but happening all the same. Things will get better, and even though it feels like it sometimes, he will not live out the rest of his days confined to a hospital.
“Dick?” Bruce whispers, shaking his shoulder gently to rouse him from his nap.
Dick furrows his eyebrows and buries his face deeper into his pillow. “Hmm?”
“Are you still feeling up for visitors?”
Dick turns his head and opens his eyes to look at Bruce. He’s wearing his Batman costume, though the cowl is still pushed back.
“Visitors?” Dick asks, waiting for his tired brain to catch up with him and fill him in on today’s plans.
Bruce is calm, not fazed by Dick’s confusion in the slightest. Dick doesn’t remember most of his hospital stay, but he knows enough to realize he hasn’t been lucid most of the last month, nearing a month and a half. Bruce has had a lot of patience.
“Donna, Garth, Wally, and Roy were going to visit today,” Bruce reminds him.
That sounds familiar. Bruce had mentioned it yesterday, or maybe this morning. He thinks he’d been eating at the time, or attempting to—which is rarely pleasant, and Bruce usually tries to offer a distraction. Dick doesn’t remember whose idea it had been (his friends’, Alfred’s, Dick’s, Bruce’s), just that his friends have been asking after him since day one, and Dick would like to see them too.
“We can reschedule if you’re feeling unwell,” Bruce says.
“Are they already here?” Dick asks.
“We can reschedule,” Bruce repeats.
Dick pushes himself upright, pausing as a wave of dizziness hits him. “I’m fine. I want to see them.”
“Easy.” Bruce rests a hand on Dick’s shoulder, raising the bed so Dick can lean against the pillows while he sits. “I’ll go get them. Stay put.”
Bruce pulls his cowl up and steps into the hallway, closing the door behind him.
Dick waits, eyes moving from the clock to the door for nearly ten minutes.
Then, finally, Bruce reappears. He closes the door behind him and walks back to Dick’s bedside. “If you need me, call. If you’re in pain or something feels off, press the button to call the nurse. Someone will get in contact with me. If you feel tired, tell your team to go home.”
Dick rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay, I know, geez. Am I allowed to have fun?”
“Hnn. Maybe next week.”
Dick’s lips twitch at the joke, but he forces his face back to neutral. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”
Bruce leans forward, pressing a kiss against Dick’s forehead. “Don’t push yourself.”
“Okay, I promise.” Dick tugs Bruce into a hug.
“I’ll see you in thirty minutes.” Bruce runs a hand up and down Dick’s back, then steps away. “I have a timer set.”
“Of course you do.”
Bruce grunts, and Dick waves at him as he slowly—hesitantly—leaves the room. The door stays open, and then his friends march in, closing the door behind them. They look like they’ve just been read the riot act, which probably isn’t too far off.
But when Dick smiles at them, they light up and race to his bed.
Wally’s there first, pulling him into a hug which the others are quick to join. “Dude, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you!”
The rest chorus Wally, each offering their own greeting.
“I’ve missed you guys too,” Dick says, smiling again as they break their group hug. “And hey, Wally—your legs leg’s healed!” Dick looks down at Wally’s leg again, verifying that there’s no cast. He realizes then that he’d never gotten to sign it.
Wally looks down at his own leg. “Oh yeah, I got the cast off like two weeks ago. Same day you—never mind.” Wally waves the thought off.
“What?” Dick asks.
“Just—I was going to say—uh, it was the same day they brought you out of the coma,” Wally mumbles, rubbing the back of his head.
“Oh, okay. Easy to remember then,” Dick says, offering another smile. His statement isn’t really true though; Dick hadn’t been fully awake until a few days after, and things have been fuzzy up until his last day in the ICU.
Wally smiles back, and the conversation lulls. A few eyes drift down to the bed where Dick’s right leg should’ve been. Dick pretends he doesn’t notice.
Donna sits down on the bed next to Dick, shoulder to shoulder. “Is this okay?”
“’Course.” He rests his head on her shoulder, and the others find a place to sit. Wally sits on the edge of the bed, while Garth and Roy take the chairs. “So, what have you guys been up to? Who’s been leading the team?”
Garth rubs his forearm. “There hasn’t really been much need for the Teen Titans lately, so no one’s really had to cover for you or anything.”
They’ve had quiet weeks, but Dick can’t think of a time when they’ve had a quiet month. “Okay . . . But you’re still getting together to train, right? Who’s been leading sessions?”
“We’ve all been pretty busy with our own stuff,” Wally says.
Dick furrows his eyebrows, opens his mouth to ask another question.
“Let’s talk about something else,” Donna suggests. “How are you feeling, Dick? Sick of pudding yet?”
“You didn’t disband, did you?” Dick asks, flicking his eyes from one team member, one friend, to another.
They all look at each other.
“Guys?”
Roy sighs. “Lisen, after what happened with the HIVE, we couldn’t, we just—” Roy sighs again. “Batman let us visit you in the ICU once. Someone convinced him that we deserved a chance to say goodbye, just in case. Did you know that?”
He didn’t.
“And with everything going on, we all thought it might be a good idea to take a break,” Donna finishes softly.
“Oh.” Dick can’t exactly picture the Teen Titans with one of them missing, but he also can’t really picture everything being okay without the Teen Titans.
“Are you okay?” Garth asks.
Dick nods. “I guess I was just counting on everyone else being okay.” It’s hard to fall on a safety net when it’s ripped; it’s hard to look at it when he’s the one who went at it with a knife.
Donna bumps his shoulder. “We were worried—it’s what friends do.”
Dick bumps her shoulder back. “Thanks. And I’m okay,” he tells her, tells them. “Really.” Getting there, anyway.
“’Course you are,” Wally says, smile returning. He reaches his hand into his back pocket and pulls out a small cardboard box. “And since you’re feeling better, you won’t mind if I crush you at Uno, do you?”
Dick laughs. “You can try. Deal me in.”
Everyone scoots closer to the bed, and Dick pulls his remaining leg closer to himself to make room. Wally deals the cards, and Dick watches his friends as their stress and tension eases.
The Teen Titans aren’t over, but Dick isn’t delusional; he won’t be joining them in the field for quite a while. He’ll need time to regain his fitness and figure out how to be Robin with one leg, and someone will need to fill in for him in the meantime. They might want to think that everything will be okay without them, but the Teen Titans are needed—both by their community and by each other.
But. That’s a conversation for another day. Right now they just need a moment to be with each other. Right now they just need a moment to heal.