Dick knew something was wrong when he landed badly on his left foot and heard a crack.
Despite knowing that his food was quite possibly broken, Dick continued on his patrol. His foot didn't hurt much after all.
—
It was on the way home when Dick's foot actually started hurting. He was sitting in the back seat of the Batmobile between Jason and Damian when the adrenaline high started to wear off.
The pain hit like a truck and Dick found himself teetering on the edge of consciousness as it burned like a fire up his leg.
"Grayson, you are not engaging in conversation. What's wrong?" Damian asked.
"Jus' tired lil D," Dick slurred as his eyes slipped closed.
—
Dick woke up in the Batcave. Whoever had carried him from the Batmobile had situated him comfortably on one of the medbay's soft beds. At first Dick thought it was because they'd somehow found out about his injured foot, but when he realized he was still in his Nightwing uniform without any sort of cast, bandage, splint, or boot in sight he jumped to the conclusion that after he'd passed out/fallen asleep someone had set him on one of these beds, not willing to change him out of his uniform, and also not willing to risk Alfred's wrath by bringing him upstairs in costume.
A twinge of pain shot through Dick's foot and he whimpered quietly. How had he not noticed just how badly his foot was hurt before?
Dick briefly debated calling one of his brothers or even Bruce down to help him, but heaven knows he'd never live that down.
The clock on Dick's phone showed the time to be 2:47 AM and he internally groaned. Everyone would be sleeping anyway. He'd have to do this on his own.
—
Dick managed to keep in his cries of pain as he hobbled to the showers. He quickly started removing his uniform, tears welling in his eyes when he tried to tug the boot off of his swollen foot.
A single tear dripped down Dick's cheek as he pulled off the boot. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he bit hard on the inside of his cheek. "Ow," he sobbed quietly, his lip trembling when he glanced at his bruised and swollen foot.
Dick managed to change into some shorts and a plain white tee, and he once again debated asking one of his siblings for help... maybe Jason would help him... they were dating after all.
Any thoughts of asking for help were banished when Dick remembered the last time he'd sprained his wrist. It hadn't been by any fault of his own, much like his current ankle injury. Nevertheless he'd been relentlessly teased for months... after all, he was supposed to be the acrobat. He was supposed to know how to land to avoid injury.
Nope. Not going through that again.
Dick balanced on his good foot, leaning heavily against the wall. He tried hopping for a while, but only got a few steps before he couldn't handle the pain that came from each hop.
Quickly running out of options, Dick decided to go for walking on his hands. He leaned up against the wall for a moment, allowing the pain in his foot to subside before he kicked up into his handstand.
This, he found, was much less painful than hopping, and he was able to make his way across the entire room before he needed a break.
Dick quickly realized that going up the stairs was going to be much harder. His wrists had already ached from everything he'd done during patrol, and the added stress from walking on his hands across the room had made them even more sore.
