Unbreakable (A Dick Grayson story)

CH 9: When your legs don't work like they used to before

Dick gritted his teeth, taking a shaky step toward the door.

So close.

He had already made it halfway from the bed. All it would take was two more steps.

Just two more.

Taking another step forward, Dick did his best to steady his breathing.

In...

Out.

In...

Out.

On his next step, Dick's legs gave out from under him and he hit the ground with a thump, pain radiating up from his knees.

"So not asterous." Dick grumbled under his breath, letting out an irritated sigh as the door to his room swung open and Alfred stepped into the room.

The butler looked around the room before his eyes focused on Dick's sprawled out form. "Master Dick, you are aware of the fact that we have furniture you could be sitting on, correct?" He asked, amusement all too evident.

This was the second time this week that Alfred had come to his rescue and it was only Monday afternoon.

With a long groan, Dick shook his head, spreading out on the floor in an attempt to get more comfortable.

"I dunno, Alfred. The floor is kind of comfortable. You sure you don't want to join me?"

At least humor was better than becoming frustrated.

Alfred simply shook his head, reaching down to help Dick up. "You know, if you just wait a bit longer and do your arm exercises like the doctor told you then you'll be able to go on crutches. Trying to walk like this will only cause more injuries."

"I know, I know... you told me that last time. But it's frustrating."

"It'll be more frustrating if you reinjure yourself."

Dick stood with Alfred's help and the butler guided him back to his waiting wheelchair, brow furrowing in concern. "At the very least use your chair to get to the living room where there are more things to lean on."

"Admit it, Alfie... you just don't want to keep coming in here to save me." Dick forced a tired smile, patting the side of the wheelchair. "But I guess you have a point. I can practice walking where you can supervise."

~•~

Dick sat curled up on the couch, hand clenching and unclenching around a stress ball while he read. He had given up on trying to walk after collapsing for what felt like the hundredth time and Alfred had grown tired of helping him up, promising chocolate cake after dinner if Dick gave it a rest.

While he was not one to normally fall for bribes, Dick had agreed readily enough. Chocolate cake was worth giving his already shaking legs a rest.

It was strange – the domestic setting of the Wayne Manor. Alfred acted as more of a father than a butler to Bruce, and Bruce himself was hardly home at all.

During the first few days of his recovery, his new 'father' had hung around, making sure that he was doing alright. However, that did not last long and when Dick had asked where he went Alfred had simply informed him that Bruce Wayne was the owner and CEO of a very large corporation and thus had a lot of work to do.

Dick did not know enough of the man to form a clear judgment on him, aside from the fact that he clearly was not good with kids. Maybe Dick was scaring him away? He did not know for sure.