Fix You

Almost Human

"Is he still moping?" Artemis's voice broke Barbara from her thoughts. "I yelled at him about that last time and he threw me out… verbally. I don't think I helped any."

"He's… I don't know." Barbara sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "He was when I was there and then, well, I told him to stop, but I don't know if it did any good."

Artemis nodded.

Barbara reached into her pocket and began fingering the collapsed form of her utility belt. "I'm just so…." Barbara sighed again. "I'm just sick of this, you know? We get him back and it's like he's still just as gone! I just want things to go back to normal."

Artemis raised an eyebrow. "Barbara," she finally said. "In this world, there's no such thing as normal."

oOo

It was… weird; eerie even. Dick slowly flexed his fingers, feeling the wires along his hand contract and relax, the metal plating around his fingers gently clenching, assisting his fingers in moving. The nerve impulses in his hand, well, he could feel them, if he focused on it. His hand made a near-silent whirring sound as it moved, like a mini machine. That's what it was, though; a machine. Did that mean he was part machine now? Not fully human? It was a weird thought, one that Dick had already spent copious amounts of precious brain power mulling over without any definite results.

Dick ran his good hand over the hard brace covering the metal plating, fingering the small joints at the wrist and the straps holding it to his arm. Leslie said it was to stabilize his wrist; apparently the metal and circuits were only for movement and not for keeping his hand attached to his arm. Not literally, but Leslie said his bones in his wrist were weak (Dick seriously wondered how he had any bones left – wouldn't they have gotten severed along with his hand? Not something he liked to think about) and the brace would help support them.

Dick wasn't nearly as uncomfortable with his hand as he had been when he'd first been introduced to the new addition to the extremity. He'd already tried living with only one hand (he considered himself ambidextrous to a fair degree) and it wasn't all it was cracked up to be (if it was cracked up to be anything more than near impossible). If Leslie hadn't performed her 'experimental' (Dick didn't like that word) surgery, Bruce said that the only other options were to amputate his hand completely or leave it alone and let it become dead. Either way, he'd be left with only one and, after living that way for a few weeks, Dick was appreciative, if nothing else, of having two. Even if one was only half functional and creepy. Eerie. Unnatural.

Dick no longer had any feeling in his hand or fingers as the metal plating covered the entire thing and that was something he wasn't happy about. Or even mildly okay with. Holding things was ten times harder and typing (on a keyboard) was hard. Touch screens were impossible. He now texted with one hand. He could still feel that he was holding something because he could feel the resistance against his muscles, but any texture was lost to him.

Even so, he was… okay with it. Maybe okay wasn't the right word. He would rather have this than the alternative. Dick stood up straight, keeping his grip on the banister as he steadied himself for the rest of his climb up the stairs. His leg had started hurting halfway up and Dick had been forced to stop and rest. It was frustrating and infuriating and Ace was probably really annoyed. He started climbing again, consistently knocking his leg against the stairs as he failed to lift his bad knee high enough to clear them.

"Dick, come here."

Dick froze, his grip on the banister tightening. Next to him, Ace's ears perked up as the dog's head shot to face his first master. Dick winced as he berated himself for being so freaking loud. Slowly he turned to face Bruce, the man's upper half sticking out of his study, his face stern. Dick gritted his teeth and slowly made his way down the staircase, his knee protesting at every bend. He could tell Bruce was watching his every move and he fought to keep his face impassive, not wanting to give away any signs of weakness to his guardian. Finally, though, he couldn't take the pain and slowness any longer and hopped the remaining few steps of the stairs on his good leg.