Black & Red (Young Justice/Batman Fiction)

Chapter 9

Cold hands on my face wake me up.

"Mmph..." I moan. My eyes flutter open. It's dark and I'm staring at a ceiling without a poster of Wonder Woman on it. Right, not my room. I roll over onto my side and frown. Dick's sitting in Bruce's chair with his knees pulled to his chest and Alfie's blanket over his shoulders like a cape. "You okay?" I croak. I clear my throat and try to get a better look at him. It's hard to see what his face looks like in the dark.

"Shh... listen." His head is tilted back toward the wall.

I hum and roll onto my back again. Rubbing my hands over my face and trying to wake up, I strain my ears. Through the wall, I hear a man murmuring and a woman crying. A machine is beeping, the pulse of it steadily growing slower. My stomach lurches. The kid with the bad heart next door; he never woke up from his surgery a few days ago.

"I saw a priest walk by about an hour ago," Dick says, voice low and solemn. "He's gonna die. He's the second kid to die while I've been here. I hate it."

Beep... beep....... beep ............... beep.

Of course he hates it. Who wants to lie around listening to kids die around them? I roll over to look at him again, my skinny brother who should be up turning cartwheels by now—the one with blood poisoning and fucked up kidneys who can't eat or drink anything. Geez, Dickie-bird. All this worrying about you is gonna give me grays. "Hey man, you're shaking like crazy. Come on, get back in bed."

"I feel better when I sit up."

"How long have you been over there?" I ask. With a grunt, I sit up and stretch.

"A while," Dick whispers. "Can't sleep."

Beep............... beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

Shit.

"Poor kid," Dick mumbles. "He was only seven."

I never really got a good look at the kid. He was always in bed and wrapped up in his teddy bear blanket from home. I see his ma a lot though. She's a real pretty lady with big brown eyes and light brown hair down her back. She's always in sweats and sneakers and looking like a lady who's run a thousand miles. But whenever she sees me, she kinda smiles and raises her cup of coffee to me. She always has coffee.

"The kid's dad ever come to visit?" I ask. I never see a man coming in and out of the room that isn't a doctor or something.

"Mom's got a restraining order on him. He's a C-List criminal. Knocks off convenience stores and been picked up for possession a few times."

I yawn and swing my legs over the side of the bed. "You looked him up or someone tell ya?"

Dick snorts. "Don't insult me. You know I looked him up. Nathan Larusso, 28 years old, 6'2, and father of one."

I set my feet on the floor and push off the bed. Dick doesn't take up much room in Bruce's chair and I squeeze into it with him. I grab the blanket around his shoulders and pull it around us both. The chill coming off his PJ's makes me shiver through my sweatshirt and jeans. I drape an arm over his shoulders and rub. "You're cold."

"Kinda takes my mind off how shit-tastic I feel," Dick says. He rests his head on my shoulder. "Hear that now?"

We're quiet and I hear what has to be the priest doing a prayer. The mom's crying, and the beeping is completely gone.