Dick did not remember falling asleep, but when he woke up, he realized he was somewhere new. Somewhere warm. Memories of what had transpired flooded into his mind, keeping things like panic at bay.

He remembered Wally, a friend tried and true, chasing him into the stream and lending him a few more precious seconds of air before dragging him, frozen and sputtering, away from an icy grave. In the car, after making a phone call, Wally had asked one thing of him – don't fall asleep – to which he had pathetically flouted.

He made to rub at his eyes but something kept his hand from moving. Dick found Bruce latched onto it, seated in a fold-up chair and flopped over the bed, sleeping. Dark circles looped under the billionaire's eyes and a deep-set frown tugged at his mouth. Dick squeezed his guardian's hand. "Bruce," he croaked softly.

Bruce woke to it instantly. "Dick," he respired, tugging gently at Dick's hand to lure him into an embrace. Dick returned it gratefully, seizing the moment to observe his surroundings. White. Clean. And sadly… familiar. Gotham General, he concluded. "How do you feel?"

"Tired," Dick whispered.

Bruce pulled back from the hug and reached out to tuck dark locks behind Dick's ear. Ever since finding the boys locked in a car on Narrows Bridge – Dick unconscious but breathing (and Wally's pleading face was very, very distracting) – the deep-rooted fear he had been feeling was finally starting to dissipate. Now that Dick's core was back to normal temperatures, and now that he was moving around and speaking, Bruce had the evidence he needed to feel like Dick would be okay.

You gave me a scare son, Bruce recognized desperately. The feeling must have been profound, seeing as Dick's expression turned apologetic, and Bruce realized that he had spoken the words out loud. He grabbed the boy's face in his hand and rubbed the pad of his thumb over the scuff on Dick's chin.

"I saw their faces," Dick confessed, closing his eyes.

Bruce understood; upon seeing his captor's features, Dick became a liability. As soon as the phone call encouraging Bruce Wayne to carry through with the swap was over, Dick Grayson's usefulness wore off.

If it hadn't been for Wally…

He shook his head to chase away those potentially dangerous thoughts. He had never been thrilled with Dick sharing his secret identity with Wally West, but he was admittedly warming up to the idea. The speedster certainly couldn't be the worst person in the world to be in on such things, if recent events were anything to go by.

"Do you need anything?" Bruce asked, redirecting his attention and looking for a distraction in the form of Dick's voice.

"Nope. Well, wait. I might retract that answer," he teetered, folding his arms over his midsection.

"You busted your ribs," Bruce supplied, x-rays and other examinations replaying in his head. Other than the ugly rings around his wrists and ankles from rope, the scrapes on his chin and along his front where skin rubbed against asphalt, as well as a couple other bruises that would fade, Dick was in good shape.

"Technically, I didn't do anything to my ribs. Someone else did." It was meant to be a joke and Dick was making to laugh, but Bruce's darkening expression dissuaded him and he cleared his throat instead. "Sorry. Seriously though, Bruce. I'm alright. This isn't the first time I've busted a rib or two. Just wrap me up like a burrito for a week or so and I'll be good as new. …What's the matter?"

Bruce's eyes were narrowed. No, it wasn't the first time something like this has happened, as Robin or as Dick Grayson. But it was the first time that he had been too far away to prevent anything irreversible from happening. That triumph belonged to Wally this time, and it both disturbed and reassured the billionaire. "Nothing."

Accepting the answer for now, and as if reading his thoughts, Dick glanced around the room. "Where's Wally?"

"You were both chilled," he explained, still playing with Dick's hair. The thought that someone would anchor his boy to the bottom of the river tried to poison his thoughts. "He's in another room just down the hall. Barry's with him."

"He's here?"

"Yes."

"Down the hall?"

"Yes."

"And he's alright?"

"Yes, Dick," Bruce finally grinned a little when a visible weight lifted from Dick's shoulders and his usual brightness started to seep through.

They talked for a while after that, conversation eventually simmering into a comfortable silence before Dick's eyes started to drift shut, comforted by the fact that his guardian would be there with him while he journeyed back to sleep, but Wally's head poked into the room at that moment. He looked tired but well, smiling wearily from the hallway.

Bruce, privy to social cues and realizing that Dick probably needed a moment alone with his friend, stood to leave, though not before trailing his hand through Dick's hair once more.

Wordlessly, they swapped places; Bruce to the door and Wally to the bedside. It was when Bruce paused at the door frame that anyone spoke next.

"Wallace."

Wally flinched at the use of his full name, but turned to face the man obediently, lip caught between his teeth. The last time he spoke with Bruce about the matter was to relay information about what had happened. Bruce had never had a moment to speak with him about his personal feelings or evaluation of his actions.

Was he angry about having lost his communicator? Or maybe it had something to do with the consequences of his fooling around when engaging the kidnappers; if he had been faster to react to the heart of the situation, Dick might have never fallen into the water in the first place. Wally's chest tightened when Bruce took a breath and caught his eye. His voice was low.

"Good work."

And then he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

Stiffly, Wally turned to face his friend, who was smirking.

"Dude. Did he just…" Wally gaped, scrubbing at his ears as if they were damaged. "Did he just thank me?"

Dick chuckled warmly, patting the bed to invite Wally to take a seat across from him. When the speedster obliged, Dick wasted no time in collecting him into a quick hug. The gratitude swimming through him now was immense and threatened to drown him all over again.

"You're welcome," Wally murmured. "Try not to cut it so close next time, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll try. What about you, Walls? You alright?"

Wally snorted. "Me? Please, they couldn't lay a finger on the Wall-man."

"Okay, Wall-man, what did you tell the team?" Dick asked, slightly worried about what Young Justice would think when both Robin and Kid Flash didn't show up for a scheduled briefing.

"Have a little faith in me, will you? I told them you were pulled aside to do the Dynamic Duo thing and no one batted an eye."

"And you?"

"I 'overslept.'"

"Smooth, Wally," Dick said, rubbing a hand down his tired face to shield the smile stretching his lips. "I'm sure they bought it, though."

"Hey! Come on, man, I had to come up with something."

Dick cackled.

"I hate you," Wally frowned.

"Somehow I don't think you do. You did kiss me, after all."

"Dude!" Wally's eyes bulged and he threw his hands up into the air. "How did I know you were going to-!? It was a kiss of life, okay!?" His hands flailed and Dick's laughter grew and grew until it was bouncing off the walls and he was holding his aching sides.

"Kiss of life? Wally, that's CPR!"

"Whatever! You're so ungrateful!" Wally barked, though he failed to suppress humor bubbling up from the back of his throat. "That 'kiss'," he emphasized with air quotations, "...saved your life."

He fixed a glare at his best friend, but Dick was laughing too long and hard and Wally couldn't help but crumble and laugh with him.

"Oh god," Dick groaned once they had died down. "Laughter is not always the best medicine."

"Sorry, sorry."

"Nah," Dick waved him off before pawing at his eyes. He took on a more sober expression. "Thanks, though, Wally."

During their laughing fit, Bruce had returned, but instead of making his presence known, he lingered just outside. Dick was in good hands at the moment. The sound of his giggling seeped through the crack under the door and Bruce was smothered with relief.

Dick's choice in friends and his decision to trust and depend on them so deeply was a part of Dick's personality that differentiated him from Bruce. That difference sometimes alarmed the billionaire, but it also meant that Dick wasn't turning out like him, so the alarm was quickly snuffed with feelings of pride and adoration.

Eventually the boys' voices softened to quiet mumbles behind the barrier of the door. Bruce allowed himself a few steps back, giving himself a moment of reflection. He hadn't known that happiness had a sound until Dick came into his life. Now that he had it, he had no intention of letting it go –

A loud crash sounded through the door, followed by a rushed, "Holy crap, sorry – haha – I did not see that there!"

– even if it meant letting people like Wally West, in.