You had rushed over to the hospital as soon as you'd heard the news. It had something to do with his grapple, though no one had a definitive answer as to what had caused Bruce's major accident just yet. He was in a public hospital - Alfred had informed you that Dick took one of Bruce's cars and crashed it as a cover story as to why Bruce Wayne was critically injured. The staff let you in easily enough, and when you open the door, Bruce looks worse than you've ever seen him. You rush over to his side just as he notices you, bruised eyes crinkled.

"Hey," is all he can muster, and you shakily drag out a chair to sit beside him. You've never seen him this injured before. The neck brace, the casts, all of the bandages. Cards and gifts are splayed out along the bedside tables; you hadn't brought anything with you. You were the last to find out.

"I didn't want to put this on you, chum," Bruce murmurs softly, and you lean in a little closer. Your heart is pounding with all sorts of questions. It pains you a little that you haven't even had the chance to talk to him properly before he brings up work. "But the Bat can't be absent from the city."

His hand twitches, and you reach for it, swallowing uneasily. His skin is cold to the touch, and you can't stand seeing him like this. The idea of taking Bruce's burden while he recovered was a huge one - something you didn't think he would push on you. But Bruce was adamant. He knew how capable you were.