Survival( a Dick Grayson fan fiction)

Blast from the Past cont.

Alfred brings his hands up to my head, near my ears. He gently peels me away from him. He stares into my eyes then my face, trying to memorize it. I see his eyes start to glimmer as he takes me in. A sad laugh escapes him as he pulls me tight again. Except it isn't just a laugh, it's also half of a whimper.

"It's great to see you again, Master Dick," he states through a tight throat. I can tell he has to force the words out with great difficulty. His chest shakes a little as he attempts to stay in control of his emotions.

"You too, Alfie," I whisper into his chest.

"Well, come on. You better get to eating the cookies before they get cold and the milk gets warm," he jokes, gently patting my back.

I let him go and basically throw myself back on the couch. I can't help but flinch a little at the landing. You know, you would think I would be more cautious as I just escaped death... but I'm not.

"Richard," Bruce barks." What on earth is wrong with you!? You really just catapulted yourself right onto your wound?"

"Okay, okay. Momentary lapse in judgment, I admit." I try my best not to whimper through the words.

"You need to sit up. Alfred," Bruce begs him and commands me. Alfred comes forwards quickly from the other side of the coffee table, while Bruce hoists me back up. I sit on the edge of the couch turned to the side so Alfred can sit next to me and see.

Gingerly, Alfred pulls up the back of my shirt until he can see the stitched-up hole, just below my left lung. He carefully studies it and checks the skin around it, but never getting too close.

"All the stitches are still intact and there doesn't seem to be anything else damaged. Well besides some inflammation," he declares and pulls back down my shirt.

"Dickie, please. You have to be careful," Bruce pleads, coming and sitting down next to me. He reaches forward and grabs a cookie. He holds it out to me and of course, I take it. He then reaches up and tries to push my long hair out of my eyes.

"Next, you need a haircut," Bruce decides after a few seconds of comfortable silence, and I laugh. It's true. Laying in a bed for over a month will do that to you.

"Most definitely. I almost didn't recognize you," Alfred agrees.

"Gee thanks, guys. Anything else you want to pick on?" I huff with fake annoyance. I can't help the little smile that streaks across my cheeks.

"Well, now that you mention it," Bruce starts with a laugh. We all end up giggling and I roll my eyes.

"Okay, fine whatever," I sigh as I relax a little further into the couch. I can't help but analyze both of them, call it my superhero training. But it never seems to fail. Neither one of them has truly relaxed. They both sit pretty stiffly, even though Bruce is trying his best to lean back and give off a calm demeanor. And even though Alfred is British and proper, he is still more tense than normal. Something is up.

"What's wrong," I ask, after giving them a second to open up.

"Not-" Bruce starts.

"Don't say it's nothing. I know how to read a room. No matter how relaxed you are trying to act, you aren't. So, what's wrong," I ask softly. I watch Bruce's eyes, but he never really meets mine.

"Dick, really. It's nothing to concern yourself with right now. So why don't you have another cookie and really spoil your dinner," he tries to joke and brush it off. We all know I'm not really going to let it go, but I nod.

It just gets worse from there. The tension grows and I don't know why. Bruce nor Alfred will tell me. They both just shrug it off and say things like they don't know what I mean.