Always two there are. No
more. No less.
~tarotgal
We'll stop by the police station and
explain.” Batman said, slipping gracefully into the seat beside Robin and
taking the wheel with the voice command, “Drive.”
“Hehhchoo!”
A suspicious eye stared down the boy
wonder. He slouched in his seat, arms crossed against his chest, staring out
the window.
“You sick?”
A headshake. “No, I just… eh-ihhchoo!”
Batman's gloved hand turned the
wheel and silently set it to autopilot as his other hand dialed the
speakerphone. He turned his head while it rang. “Good, then don't sneeze.”
The phone was answered. “Hello
Batman?”
“Commissioner Gordon. There's a bit
of a package on your doorstep. They were breaking into the museum. Might want
to beef up security; there will be others.”
“Thank you Batman. We'll increase
security.”
“Good evening, Commissioner.”
“Goodbye Batman.”
Looking over at Robin, Batman
snickered. The boy wonder was doing a wonderful job of not sneezing, with two
fingers under his nose and his eyes tightly squeezed closed. Restraining his
laughter, “You can sneeze now.”
Robin gave a bit of a scowl but let
loose, nonetheless. “Ehhcooo! Uhh-chishoo! Hetchoo! Sniff!”
“Not sick, you say?” They pulled
into the bat cave and the top opened over them.
“Maybe just a little. Nothing that
will sniff knock me on my butt.”
Bruce's mask came off and his
eyebrow went up. “We'll see. In the meantime, we'll need to figure out what
Freeze could possibly want with that book. And we'll need a translation of the
pages on display.”
“I'll get right… righ… ri-eh-choo!
Ketchoo!”
“Geuisundheit.”
Robin rubbed at his nose with his
glove-covered wrist. “I'll get right on it, sniff. Maybe after a short
nap…” his rubbing moved to the back of his neck as he removed his mask with the
other hand.
Alfred appeared momentarily with a
smile and congratulations on the evening's job. Then he made his way over to
Dick who hovered over a computer. “Master Dick, are you quite all right?”
The young man nodded, paused, then
shook his head as he gave into the old man's kind eyes. “I don't feel so hot.”
A caring, old hand touched his
forehead. “On the contrary. You're burning up.”
Dick shook his head to get ride of
the touch with a definitive sniffle. “I'm going to be fine.”
“I'm afraid the only place you'll be
going is to bed.”
“But—“
A hand was placed on his shoulder
and Dick looked up to see Bruce's equally concerned look. “You were great out
there tonight. You've earned a rest. Go, take care of that cold.”
Dick gave a weak smile of pride and
an agreeable nod as he shuffled off toward the bedroom with Alfred right behind
him. “EhhTchoo!”
The old man sighed. “Oh, do cover
your nose, Master Dick. I could hear your sneezes all the way down the hall.”
Bruce laughed and sat down, getting
right back to work. He began by scanning the computer database and downing a
cup of Alfred's strongest coffee. The man arrived at his side a few moments
later to ask how things had gone behind the new reports he had seen. After a
bit of explaining, he returned to work on the computer and Alfred made an
inspection on the Batmobile to check for damage.
A bell caught both sets of ears.
“What's that?” Bruce asked, rising.
Alfred calmed him back to sit with a
gesture of his hand. “I gave it to Master Dick to ring for my services.”
Laughing again, “You're babying
him?”
Alfred gave a wise smile. “And when
you are sick, Master Bruce, do I not baby you?”
Still laughing, “Very well and good,
but I don't get sick.”
Another ring.
Alfred gave another smile, recalling
half a dozen illnesses of Bruce's in the past. “Excuse me, Master Bruce.”
“Oh, of course,” he said, smiling at
how fatherly the old man was to them both. He didn't know what he'd do without
Alfred. Bruce continued to sift through files until Alfred returned, only a few
moments later. “I thought you were going to check on Dick.”
“I did attend him, Sir. Aside from
honey tea and a hot water bottle, Master Dick requests an audience with you at
your earliest and most immediate convenience.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Bruce
laughed as he rose.
“Master Bruce to see you, Sir.”
The young man looked much sicker now
than he had before let on in the darkness of the car and cave. Pale face,
cheeks flushed, nose a bit red around the edges, eyes a little teary.
“Your tea, Sir.” Alfred handed it
over, then grabbed a tissue and rubbed roughly at the boy's nose. Dick wiggled
away as much as he could, then grumbled and rolled his eyes. Alfred left with a
wink to Bruce.
“Bruce, thanks for coming up. I'd
have gone down but someone didn't let me get out of bed. Sniff!
Check out what I found in this book here.”
Bruce leaned over, inspecting. “That
looks like one of the pages from the book tonight.”
“It speaks of peace and suffering,
but there's no direct translation. It's an ancient blend of Russian and Greek
of all things. It will be quite a task to decipher it.” He paused in
explanation to yawn and rub his nose.
“I'll get right on it. And you—“
“Hehshoo! Ehhhchoo! Ketchoo!
Uhhhchoo!” The young man was tossed forward with each free sneeze weakly.
Bruce nudged the tissue box closer
to him in hint, though didn't flinch or scold.
“Sorry,” Dick whispered, grabbing a
tissue and blowing. “I'm not used to, um—“
“It's all right. You get some rest
and I'll look into it.”
Dick reluctantly handed over the
book. Bruce patted his ward's leg through the blankets then made his exit.
“Hey sniff Bruce?”
He poked his head back in.
“Is Alfred going to be like this sniff
the whole time I'm sick?”
Laughing, “Most likely. But there
are upsides to being pampered.”
Coughing and rolling his eyes, “Just
wait until you get sick… hehh… eh… EH-choo! Sniff! We'll see how sniff
you like it.”
Bruce shook his head. “Doubtful,
seeing as I don't get sick.” He ducked back out and headed for the cave with
his nose in the book and his head working through the puzzle.
“Master Bruce?”
Bruce Wayne looked up, his eyes
tired but concentrated. “Yes, Alfred?”
With a stifled yawn, “Master Dick is
finally asleep, so I believe I shall retire for the night.” He draped Bruce's
bathrobe over Robin's empty chair. “You may wish to do likewise. Do not forget
you have several important meetings tomorrow and a party tomorrow evening.”
Bruce nodded. “I'll go to bed soon.
Goodnight, Alfred.”
“Goodnight, Master Bruce.”
“Heh-Tchgh! Hehshoo! Ihhshoo!”
Bruce bumped into Alfred as the man
left Dick's room the next morning. “How's he feeling?” Bruce was almost afraid
to ask.
A congested voice yelled out, “He's
feeling jusd fide, thags for askig hib!”
Alfred had his smile plastered on.
“Master Dick is in a rather cranky mood—“
“I ab dot!”
“But he's getting along fine, if he
could just remember to cover his nose when he sneezes and aim a little to the
left for the trashcan.”
Bruce laughed. “Feel better, Dick!”
he directed towards the room.
“Get be outa here, Bruce! I'b beig
sbothered!”
Laughing more, “Take it easy. I'll
be home late.” He nodded thank you to Alfred. “Walk with me a minute?”
A nod.
Once they were a fair ways down the
hallway, Bruce continued. “If he feels better this afternoon you may wish to
mention that Robin should pay a visit to the museum to get the pages for
translation. Better yet, I'll have someone send them over by secure channel.
Tell him that Robin could look up the names on the list of… better yet, I'll do
that during my lunch break. Tell him Robin—“
“Sir?” piped up the old man.
“Perhaps Robin could take a personal day to stay home and care for Master
Dick's cold?”
Bruce chuckled. “Agreed. Take good
care of him, Alfred.”
“I will, Sir. Good luck today.”
“Thank you, Alfred.”
* * *
“Thank you anyway.” Bruce sighed,
hanging up the phone. He planned to call the other half of the list after work.
“Mr.Wayne?”
He pressed the button on the desk
phone. “Yes?”
“Your three o'clock has been moved
until Monday.”
He sighed. Extra time. This was
fortuitous. “Thank you, Kathy. I'll be taking the rest of the day off for
personal business, then.” After straightening up some paperwork, he headed home
by way of the police station to pick up documents and videotape copies. After
calling the other half of the list, he found a researcher who specialized in
ancient language combinations and arranged for a meeting the following evening.
Bruce made a memo to send his private jet.
Then he locked up the materials in
the bat vault and headed up to check on his ward. “Dick?”
The bulge under the blankets moaned.
“Dick?”
A head and red nose poked out just
barely in a nod.
“You ok?”
Another nod. “This is ad
udbelievably bad code.” He sneezed, “ehhIHSHAH! hehKetchoo!” and then
rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand, miserably.
Bruce came in and sat on the edge of
his bed, patting his leg reassuringly. “So I see and hear. Anything I can do?”
Dick wasn't in the mood to be babied
by this man, as well. Skillfully, he changed the subject. “Did you get those
bages for tradslatiod?”
“Running one through the computer
right now, and I found a language specialist who can come by to help.”
“Good. Ub, bass be a tissue, would
you Bruce? I'b… I'b godda…” He did so and Dick was quick to cover his mouth and
nose as he sneezed again. “ehhKishoo! hegChoo! huhChumph!” He blew his
nose and tossed the tissue towards the can but it barely cleared the foot of
the bed.
“You sound wonderful. Get some more rest, ok? I'll
keep you up to date and let you know if anything happens, though I'll be Bruce
Wayne most of the… Dick?”
The young man's eyes were closed,
his breathing slow and deep. Gently, Bruce tucked him in and smiled a moment,
then went off to get changed for the banquet.
“Bruce, you look simply wonderful
this evening.”
Bruce Wayne smiled, extending his
elbow for her to take. “Thank you. You look beyond stunning, Joyce.” He turned
with her. “Shall we be going?”
“Yes, let's… um, Bruce?”
“Yes?”
She pointed behind him. “Isn't that
your ward?”
Bruce turned to see Dick halfway
down the stairs. The young man looked horrible. His face was pale and sallow,
eyes glazed over, hair a complete mess. Though he wore his bathrobe over
nightclothes, he also had a blanket draped around his shoulders which trailed
behind him as he stumbled down the stairs slowly. “Just a moment,” Bruce
whispered to Joyce as he approached the man, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Dick, what are you doing up?”
The boy clearly had lost most of his
reasoning skills. He rubbed at his nose. “You're goig out. Sobeode deeds to
watch the buseum. I was goig dowd to the ba—“
Bruce slapped his hand over Dick's
mouth. “The basement? No, too cold down there for you, I think.”
“Bud you deed be to—“
He sighed. “I need you to take some
time off from your work to get better. Hey, I know we've been through this, but
you need to rest, for real. I need you well, Dick.”
Dick's head came down on Bruce's
shoulder. “I really dod't feel well… heh… Ehshoo! ehhChoo! This isd't
like a dorbal code, Bruce. heh…huh-EHhshoo!”
“Geusundheit.” Bruce handed Dick his
handkerchief.
Dick took it, rubbed his nose, and
handed I back with a shiver. “Dacks.”
Bruce rolled his eyes and took it
carefully, folding it so he wouldn't have to touch it, then stuffed it back
into his pocket. “In bed.”
Dick nodded.
“No translating, no museum, and no
'basement'. And no giving Alfred the slip.”
Dick chuckled. “Enjoy the barty.”
After being patted on the back, the
young man headed back down the stairs.
“Dick!” Bruce called out.
“Yes?” he asked innocently, holding
back a smile.
“Your room is upstairs last I
checked.”
He grinned. “Gotcha.”
Laughing. “Upstairs. In bed. Move
it.”
Dick nodded and headed up while
Bruce returned to Joyce. “I'm sorry about that. Dick—“
“Isn't feeling well. I understand
Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay home with him?”
With a smile, “He'll be all right.
He's as much a man as he is a boy.”
She kissed his cheek. “You're a good
man, Bruce.”
A bell rang. “Alfred! Cad you brig
be sub hot chocolate and bore tissues, blease?!”
Joyce laughed. “Men can be such
babies when they're sick.”
“I wouldn't know. I don't get sick.”
She only laughed harder. “Never?”
“Never.”
“Oh come on! Everyone gets sick
sometime.”
“Well, maybe not quite never, but
not since I was very little.”
“That's better, but it's hard to
imagine you as a little kid, Bruce.”
* * *
“Bruce?”
“Yes?” He snapped back to his
charming demeanor.
She looked a bit suspicious. “Are
you all right? You looked a bit distant and—“
“Just fine.”
“—a little pale and—“
“Tsho!”
She sighed. “Bless you, Bruce.”
He sniffed and blinked a few times.
“Goodness, I was hoping that wouldn't come out. Do excuse… me.” His eyes
narrowed, nose wrinkled, mouth opened. He suddenly made a grab for his
handkerchief, lifting it up just in time. “Tishmm!”
“Bless you.”
“Ahem, would you care for
some champagne, Sir?”
They turned, Bruce looking perfectly
fine once more. “No thank you.”
The waiter turned to go but Joyce
touched his arm. “Could you have my car brought around, please?”
“Oh, yes Mademoiselle.”
Bruce cleared his throat. “You're
ready to go?”
She nodded. “You are, Mr.
I-don't-ever-get-sick.”
“I—“
She stroked his upper arm. “I'm not
saying anything. I've simply never see you—“
“Tichhhh!”
“—sneeze before. Bless you. And Dick
seemed to be doing quite a bit of that tonight.”
“But I'm not—“
“Well, I'm tired anyway. And I don't
mind heading home.”
Bruce smiled, stuffing his
handkerchief back into his pocket. “You're so sweet to me, Joyce.”
“Least I can do, Bruce. Let's get
out coats.” She slipped her hand into his and reached up to kiss his cheek.
They headed out and Bruce opened the door of her car for her, then slipped into
the passenger seat. “How're you feeling?” she asked when they were on the open
road.
He shrugged and dabbed the
handkerchief at his nose. “Not too bad. Sorry I ruined all the fun.”
She looked over at him briefly with
a smile. “Nonsense. I had a lovely time with you tonight.” They pulled up to
his gate, waited for it to open, then she drove him up the hill to the door.
When she parked, she turned to him and patted his shoulder. “Take care of
yourself, ok? I'll call tomorrow. Maybe stop by with some chicken soup. Ok?”
“That sounds wonderful.” She leaned over for a kiss but he pulled
back, rubbing at his nose. “Better not, I don't want you catching this from
me.”
Nodding, “Of course, Bruce.
Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” He climbed out of the
car, bending down to blow her a kiss through the window. She giggled and blew
him one back. He watched her drive out, then sniffed strongly, rubbing at his
nose. It did little good, and he leaned on one of the mansion's porch columns,
clamping his hand over his nose and mouth. “Tchoo! eTchah! ehh…Tishh! Tshoo!
Sniff!” He pulled out his handkerchief and blew his nose. This wasn't
supposed to be happening. He didn't get sick. He couldn't even remember the
last time he was sick, certainly not since his parents had been killed. He
sniffed his nose a little clearer and entered, finding the place silent. Alfred
was in the living room asleep in the recliner with Dick on the couch snoozing
as well, the TV lighting them both in the dark room. He smiled, pausing a
moment to reflect on the perfect scene, then reached for the remote to turn off
the television.
“Another break in at the museum
tonight. This time Batman and Robin weren't there to stop it. But the villain
identified as Mr.Freeze was stopped by the increased security. We spoke tonight
with the Commissioner of Police who assured us that everything is under control
here in Gothem City. On an only slightly related note, we'll take you on a tour
of the Minifield Museum petting zoo after our commercials right here on news 11
at 11.”
Bruce turned it off with a sigh and
headed down to the Batcave to tap into the security tapes of the museum. He
wasn't feeling up to much work, but relaxing in the Batcave was no different
than lying in bed worrying about what he could be doing, so he opted for the
work… and an extra sweater.
The tapes showed no more than they
had the night before: a blast of smoke at the break-in, a host of security
guards, and… a stolen book. He stole the book. The reporter hadn't… wait… the
book reappeared in its spot. Then the video was lost in the crossfire and
another large burst of smoke. Bruce paused video and zoomed in. It certainly
appeared to be the same book… He zoomed in further. The open page… he compared
it to the bundled copy he'd picked up earlier and found no trace. To be sure,
he ran both through the computer for comparison.
“Welcome home, Master Bruce.” Alfred
laid a hand on his shoulder. “You're home early. Did you enjoy the party?”
“Yes, Alfred. It was most enjoyable.
The museum was broken into again tonight, and…” he looked up as the computer
blinked 'No Match Found' at him, “and it seems the book was stolen.” He sighed,
rubbing at the back of his neck. “How's Dick?”
“Master Dick is currently snoring
into a couch pillow. His cold is increasingly worsening, but I cannot imagine
it being any worse than it is now. I've been giving him medicine and tea and
just about everything I know of and it's barely cracked the surface.”
Bruce nodded. “I know you are. You
look exhausted. Why don't you head to bed? I'll sleep in the living room in
case Dick wakes and is disconcerted.”
Alfred nodded. “Goodnight, Sir.”
“Goodnight.”
Alfred headed up, and Bruce secured
the computer and followed suit. Taking some extra pillows and blankets that
were kept for guests, he stretched out on the other couch and promptly fell to
sleep.
“Bruce?”
Bruce sniffed and woke groggily,
eyes adjusting to rest upon Dick. He sat up with a yawn. “Hey… you want me to
walk you up to bed?”
Dick shook his head, sniffing and
rubbing his nose boyishly. “I'b cold. Cad I sleeb hehh… hehIhshh! Ihshh!
AhChoo! AhSheshh! sniff, sniff… with you?”
With a sigh and a nod, Bruce turned
back the blankets and made room on the couch.
Dick lay down, facing Bruce, snuggling against his
warm body. If he noticed Bruce was still dressed in suit and black tie, he made no comment about it. He
sniffled and smiled, quickly drifting right off to sleep.
Bruce, however, was having a much
more difficult time falling asleep again. His head felt like it was stuffed
with cotton, and his nose tickled incessantly. It was all he could do to keep
from sneezing and waking Dick up. He rubbed at his nose and pinched it shut
what seemed like a hundred times. When all failed, he covered his mouth and
nose and turned his head into the pillow. “tchhm! tchff! tuchhff!”
Dick stirred, rubbing at his nose.
“Bruce?”
Bruce rubbed his young ward's arm
comfortingly. “Nothing's wrong, just go back to sleep, all right?”
Dick nodded, falling to sleep as if
he'd never woken.
Bruce sighed, stifled coughs, and
relaxed to prepare for what was looking like a very, very long night.
* * *
“Master Bruce?” Alfred laid a hand
on Bruce's shoulder. “Half an hour to work. I'll help Master Dick back to bed.”
Bruce nodded wearily to find he was
lying on his back and Dick was cuddled against him with his head on his
shoulder and an arm draped over him. He sat up, his head spinning. Work, Bruce
Wayne of Wayne enterprises had to go to work. He had to sit behind a desk in a
straight chair in a cold office. But he got out of the house and prying eyes,
and he got all the coffee he wanted. Bruce yawned, realizing how much he was
going to need the coffee.
Dick was roused, and tissues stuck
into his hand as the boy wonder's face dropped and his body tensed. “ahshh!
hehShoo! ehchoo! ahhshahh! ehhshoo! ahhChishh! hehChishh! Hegshah!”
“Tchhh!”
Eyes turned towards Bruce, who
immediately popped up, climbing off around Dick. “Getting ready for work!” he
called as he climbed up the stairs to avoid all questions.
Alfred helped Dick up, wrapping a
blanket around him. “Was Master Bruce sneezing last night?” he asked the young
man as he guided him up the stairs.
Dick shrugged. “I duddo. Baybe, I
dod't rebeber.” He paused to sniff strongly. “Bud Bruce dever geds sick.”
Alfred tucked Dick into bed,
watching him burrow under the blankets the way the boy used to when he came to
live with them. Alfred patted him through the blankets. “There, get some rest,
young Master Dick. You'll be feeling better soon.” Then he headed down to
prepare Bruce's routine running out-the-door breakfast.
When Bruce didn't come back down at
the usual time, Alfred headed up to check on him. What the old man found was a
shirtless Bruce Wayne, spread out on his bed, pillow over his head.
“Master Bruce?” He walked over,
touching the man to wake him.
Bruce gave a start at the touch,
reeling back.
“Master Bruce, time for work?”
Bruce shook his head. “I'm not going
in,” he grumbled. His body tensed up and then shook. “Teshhh! huh…Tishoo!
Techhphh!”
Alfred smiled, pulling the covers
down from under Bruce's body, then back up to cover him. He eased the man's
head out from beneath his pillows and then plumped them, allowing the man to
lie back down on them. “I'll call the office, Sir. Is there anything I can get
you?”
He shook his head, plunging his face
into his own pillow and stretching out in his own, comfy bed. Forget Wayne
Enterprises for a day. “Techh! ehTchoo! Teshhoo! Sniff, sniff.” Forget
everything for a day. And try to forget the guilt trip that brought with it.
Alfred shook his head with a smile.
“Call if you need me, Sir.”
Only a soft series of snores
answered.
Miss Joyce Brown rang the bell later
that morning.
Alfred, of course, answered. “Hello,
Miss Brown. I'm afraid Master Bruce is just a bit under the weather this
morning.”
She nodded. “I know. I brought him
some of my mother's patented cold-busting tea.” She held up the thermos. “Is it
all right if I come in to see him for a few minutes?”
Smiling, the man nodded. “Of course.
Let me take your coat and get a cup for that tea.”
“Thank you, Alfred.”
She was escorted to the master
bedroom and peaked in. Bruce lay on his side, hugging one of his pillows and
sniffling. He looked up, giving her a smile, then suddenly sat up, running his
hands through his hair and rubbing his eyes. She sat on the edge of the bed,
shushing him. “It's all right, Bruce. It's just me. I know you're sick,
remember?”
He nodded, rubbing at his nose and
still looking a bit embarrassed.
“Brought you some tea. Sorry no
soup, but my cook Mrs. Campbell's was out at the grocery store.”
He chuckled, taking the tea
thankfully. “This is sniff, just sniff, sniff, wodderful. Excuse
be.” He put the tea down to blow his nose.
She patted his leg but he pulled
back. “I don't want you getting sick, Joyce.”
She smiled, blowing him a kiss from
where she sat. “I won't, silly.”
“hehh..” he brought his arm up to sneeze into
the crook. “ahhTISHhh! heTchh! Tchoo! HetChoo! Sniff!” He rubbed at his
nose and looked down, blushing.
Passing him the tissues, “Bless you. Bruce, honey,
when was the last time you were sick?”
He shrugged. “Sniff, sniff! I
can't really remember… when I was a kid, probably.”
“Well then, let me give you a crash course.” She leaned over, poking him in the stomach with a giggle. “You stay in bed, and nap all you want, and call if you need anything at all. No embarrassment, no hesitation. It's not your fault you're sick, and you certainly can't do anything about it, can you?” He shook his head. “So relax and let the ones who love you… take care of you.” She smiled and leaned in all the way, kissing his forehead conservatively. “All right?”
He smiled back with a nod. “Thank
you, Joyce.”
“Feel better, Bruce.”
“I will.” He finished off the tea
then lay back down and eased himself to sleep with thoughts of Joyce.
Bruce woke a few hours later, just
after lunchtime, to find Dick curled up in bed beside him, his unattended nose
running. Bruce smiled, giving him a light hug and wiping his nose for him. Dick
smiled in his sleep. So as not to wake him, Bruce slipped out of bed, dawned a
bathrobe, and took the rest of the tea down to the Batcave.
He was welcomed by Alfred, waiting
for him. “Bruce Wayne may have been convinced into taking a day off, but I had
a feeling Batman would be more difficult to persuade.” He wrapped a blanket
around Bruce's shoulders as the man sat down at the computer. Then he wheeled
over a cart with a lunch laid out for him, and equipped with a box of tissues.
It made Bruce crack a smile, and he
looked up at the old man. “Thanks, Alfred.” He rubbed at his nose. “Maybe you
should see to Dick while you're on a roll here?”
“Do deed. I'b ride here,” came the
stuffy boy wonder's voice. Dick came in and collapsed into his chair. “Thags
for startig the barty without be, guys. ehh… ehhChishh! ahhgShuhh!
hearshhoo! Sniff!”
Alfred held his hands up, palms out.
“If you two insist upon being out of bed, there's nothing I can do. So I
believe I shall stay out of this one. If either one of you needs me I'll be
upstairs. Just give me a call.”
Once the duo was alone, Dick glared
at Bruce. “So the bighty Batbad sniff, sniff, really is sick, too, huh?”
Bruce rolled his eyes. “I'll excuse
that comment because you're sick.”
“Oh cobe od, you—“
Bruce shot him a look. “And the next
time your cold, sniffley little self wants to climb into bed with me…?” He
sighed. “It's no wonder I'm sick.”
That shut Dick up pretty quickly.
The boy wonder slouched in his chair in silence, gauging his guardian to figure
out what he could say next and how exactly to say it. After a few minutes he
whispered a soft, “I'b sorry, Bruce.”
Bruce looked over, giving him a
smile, then reaching over and rubbing his head. “It's ok. I'm just not used to
being sick. Truce?”
A nod. “Of course.”
“How are you feeling, anyway? Sniff!
Any better?”
Dick shook his head. “Uh uh. sniff!
sniff! Worse, if adythig.” He blew his nose, tossing the tissue back behind
him towards the pit, knowing full well that he probably shouldn't but that he
wouldn't make it anyway. To avoid a lecture, he quickly changed the subject.
“Hey, I heard that book was stoled. You should have let be watch the Batcave.”
Bruce sighed. “Dick, don't start
with that again.”
He shook his head; he didn't have
the energy for an argument with The Bat. “Wasd't goig to, just wadted to see
the video. Is that ok?”
With a sigh of amusement, “Sure, let me pull it up.”
He pushed a few buttons and they waited for it to load. Bruce looked over at
his ward, sniffling, drowsy, sallow and flushed. He wished he could do
something-anything- to help. Of course he wasn't feeling well either, but he
certainly felt better than poor Dick looked at present. If he really had caught
this cold from Dick, things were sure to get much worse before they got better.