Dick's eyes fluttered open to the dull ache of his entire body. Every breath stabbed like glass. His top half of the suit was gone, and bandages wrapped his torso, already darkened with blood.
He tried to sit up which was a bad idea. A sharp pain exploded in his ribs.
"Yup," he muttered through clenched teeth, "definitely broken ribs."
Footsteps echoed from the hallway. A woman stepped into view carrying fresh bandages and a first-aid kit.
"You're awake," she said dryly. "After bleeding out on my couch."
Dick blinked, looking around the small apartment and it was clean but cluttered, medical supplies on every surface. He gave a weak shrug.
"Well… things happen."
She rolled her eyes. "You're going to the hospital."
Dick shook his head immediately. "No hospitals. Terrible food."
He tried to push himself up again, but the woman stopped him with surprising strength.
"You have three broken ribs, multiple bullet wounds, a concussion, and internal bleeding," she said flatly. "You're not moving."
Dick sighed. "Well, at least I've got a beautiful doctor helping me."
She fought a smile. "You've got quite the mouth on you, kid."
He grinned through the pain. "It's part of my charm. You gonna tell me your name, or do I have to keep guessing?"
The woman set down the supplies and picked up a needle and stitches. "You first."
Dick smirked. "Since you already took my mask off so Dick Grayson. Also known as Nightwing."
She began removing the soaked bandages, making him grunt in pain.
"Leslie Thompkins," she said simply.
"Nice name," he managed, just before she dabbed alcohol on his wound.
He yelled, tensing in pain. "Goddamn what is that, acid?"
"Stop being a baby," Leslie said, not even looking up as she stitched the gash closed.
When she was done, she leaned back, satisfied. "Get some rest. You won't be moving for a few days."
Dick nodded weakly, eyes slipping shut but his senses stayed sharp, listening to every sound in the apartment even as sleep pulled him under.
Timeskip
Two hours later, Dick woke again to the sound of laughter coming from the TV.
His vision adjusted to the dimly lit apartment. Leslie sat across the room, feet kicked up, watching Friends.
"Always loved that show," Dick said, his voice still hoarse but warm.
Leslie turned toward him, raising an eyebrow. "How old are you, kid? You don't look old enough to be a vigilante."
Dick chuckled softly. "I'm twenty. And hey, vigilantes come in all shapes and sizes."
Leslie smirked. "There are fat vigilantes?"
He shrugged, smiling through the pain. "There could be."
She let out a quiet laugh before taking a sip of her beer. Then her tone shifted and it was calm, but heavy.
"Why do it, though? Why go out there and risk your life? A kid your age should be worrying about girls and college, not saving a city that's already given up on itself."
Dick leaned back, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling. He didn't answer right away. The soft hum of the TV filled the silence.
His thoughts began to spiral not out of guilt, but out of truth.
"Why did I become Nightwing? I didn't have to. I could've used the tech in the cave to get rich, live easy. I knew the heroes would come eventually because they always do. So why me? Why put the suit on?"
He exhaled slowly.
" I think about the old me sometimes that broke college kid with no future, scraping by on his own. I could've called in favors. I had rich friends, connections, but I wanted to earn my way. I wanted to work for it. Even now, that's still who I am. I could've stolen money from criminals. I could've used my skills to take the easy road… but I couldn't. I just… "
He swallowed, a faint ache in his chest. "I just had to work for it."
He turned his head toward Leslie, eyes clearer now despite the bruises.
"This city's dying, you're right," he said quietly. "But it's dying because no one's tried to save it. I know I don't exactly look like a hero right now…"
He thought of the original Nightwing mentor and the father the one who'd first taught him how to rise, how to fight with purpose. His voice echoed in Dick's memory.
"An old friend once told me, 'we don't rise because we're fearless. We rise because we refuse to stay down.' That's why I do this because there's no one else who will."
Leslie sat in silence for a moment, her expression softening. She finally stood, walked over, and gently ruffled his messy hair.
"You're a good kid," she said, voice low but sincere. "If this city had more people like you, maybe it wouldn't be in such a mess."
Dick smirked. "So… does that mean I can get a kiss to help me through these troubling times?"
Leslie rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "You wish." She gave him a light smack on the head before walking to the kitchen.
When she came back, she handed him a steaming bowl. "Here. Spaghetti. You'll need to eat if you plan on healing."
Dick grinned, taking the bowl carefully. "Guess that means I'm not dying tonight."
Leslie chuckled, settling beside him on the couch.
The rain pattered against the window, the glow of the TV flickering over the two of them watching Friends in silence.
For just a moment, the city outside didn't feel so broken.
1 Week Later
Leslie walked into her apartment to find Dick upside down balancing on one hand, doing push-ups.
"Two ninety-eight… two ninety-nine… three hundred."
He flipped upright and landed hard, gritting his teeth as pain shot through his ribs. He tried to hide it, but Leslie's disapproving glare cut through him like a scalpel.
Dick gave a sheepish shrug. "I feel fine. Plus, it's time I got back out there."
He grabbed his torn suit from the couch and started pulling it over his bandaged torso.
"You're still injured," Leslie said, crossing her arms. "But after a week of knowing you, I've learned one thing is that you don't listen."
Dick winked as he adjusted his gloves. "Thanks, doc. Maybe sometime we could grab a coffee. Or dinner."
Leslie rolled her eyes. "Kid, I'm old enough to be your mother."
He smirked. "What can I say? I like women with experience."
That actually made her blush. "Get out before I make you need a hospital."
Dick laughed, climbing out the window. He gave her a two-finger salute before leaping into the night.
Leslie stood there for a moment, shaking her head with a small smile.
"Damn brat," she muttered, then paused. "Good-looking brat… what am I even thinking?"
She sighed, heading for the kitchen. "I need a drink."
Wingcave
Rain clung to the edges of his visor as Dick rode the Wingcycle through the city's empty underbelly, the engine's low hum echoing like a heartbeat against the steel and concrete. The hidden entrance to the Wingcave slid open as he approached, the lights inside flickering to life one by one welcoming him home.
The cycle screeched to a stop, tires hissing against the damp floor. Dick swung his leg over the seat, his body screaming in protest as he pulled off his helmet. Blood still crusted along the edges of his torn suit, every movement a reminder of how close he'd come to not making it back.
A familiar voice broke through the silence.
Alfred said relived "Master Grayson. You're alive."
Dick gave a faint smirk as the holographic blue image of Alfred's face shimmered to life on the main monitor.
Dick responded "Barely. But I'm not done yet."
He reached into his belt, pulling out a cracked hard drive slick with rainwater and blood. Plugging it into the console, he waited as lines of code flickered across the screen, data unraveling piece by piece. Then, there it was a single encrypted message.
'Dock Deal — Six Hours.'
Dick's jaw tightened.
Dick said "That's it. That's how I end this."
For a long moment, he stood there staring at his reflection in the monitor. The man staring back at him looked like hell: bandaged, bruised, and exhausted. But his eyes still burned.
He turned toward the table where his suit lay in ruins, ripped and bloodstained. Pieces of broken armor scattered like remnants of a war he refused to lose.
Dick said quietly "I never did like the easy way…"
He exhaled, the breath heavy with resolve. Then he looked up at the main console.
Dick asked "Alfred… play my song. Alfred responded "Very well, sir."
A low drumbeat began to echo through the cave with the sound of thunder building in his chest.
And just like that, the work began.
Drums start playing as Dick is spray painting a black suit of Kevlar
First things first
I'ma say all the words inside my head
I'm fired up and tired of the way that things have been, oh-ooh
The way that things have been, oh-ooh
Dick starts sharpening his wing-dings.
Second thing second
Don't you tell me what you think that I could be
I'm the one at the sail, I'm the master of my sea, oh-ooh
The master of my sea, oh-ooh
Dick is punching a punching bag and then kicks it off the chain.
I was broken from a young age
Taking my sulking to the masses
Writing my poems for the few
That look at me, took to me, shook to me, feeling me
Singing from heartache from the pain
Taking my message from the veins
Speaking my lesson from the brain
Seeing the beauty through the...
Pain!
You made me a, you made me a believer, believer
Pain!
You break me down and build me up, believer, believer
Pain!
Oh, let the bullets fly, oh, let them rain
My life, my love, my drive, it came from...
Pain!
You made me a, you made me a believer, believer
Dick is using a wing chun and starts breaking each wood until he punches it in half. Then Lil Wayne starts rapping and Dick starts bopping his head and rapping along.
First things first
Can you imagine what's about to happen?
It's Weezy the Dragon, I link with the Dragons
And we gon' get ratchet, no need for imaginin'
This is what's happenin'
Second thing second, I reckon immaculate
Sound about accurate
I know that strength, it don't come, don't come without strategy
I know the sweet, it don't come without cavities
I know the passages come with some traffic
I start with from the basement, end up in the attic
And third thing third
Whoever call me out, they simply can't count
Let's get mathematic, I'm up in this, huhIs you a believer?
I get a unicorn out of a zebra
I wear my uniform like a tuxedo
This dragon don't hold his breath, don't need no breather
Love you Ms. Cita, the son of a leader
I know the bloomin' don't come without rain
I know the losin' don't come without shame
I know the beauty don't come without hurtHol' up, hol' up, last thing last
I know that Tunechi don't come without Wayne
I know that losin' don't come without game
I know that glory don't come without...
Don't come without...
Dick is doing pull-ups with a chain on but bandages still on his body as he is gritting his teeth in pain.
Last things last
By the grace of fire and flames
You're the face of the future, the blood in my veins, oh-ooh
The blood in my veins, oh-ooh
But they never did, ever lived, ebbing and flowing
Inhibited, limited 'til it broke open and rained down
It rained down, like...Pain!
You made me a, you made me a believer, believer
Pain!
You break me down and build me up, believer, believer
Pain
Oh, let the bullets fly, oh, let them rain
My life, my love, my drive, it came from...
Pain!
You made me a, you made me a believer, believer
As the song ends Dick finishes the suit and it's sleek black tactical armor accented with sharp blue lines forming the iconic bird emblem across his chest and arms.
Dick then hears Alfred says "The meeting is about to begin sir." Dick nods and says "It's time to end this."