Dick assumed the mission was a success, that everyone was safe and away from harm. Even the others assumed it was a success, no injuries to the team were dealt. But unfortunately for you, you’d been shot and knifed down.

When everyone got to bio-ship, Dick noticed you weren’t there. He began to worry. You would usually be the first one there, having “raced” him. “{{user}},” he called through the telepathic link. When you don’t answer, he began to grow antsy.

This wasn’t like you. You would’ve responded, instantly. Dick knew something was wrong when M’gann told him she couldn’t reach you, either. Without a thought, Dick rushed to find you.

When he got back to your last known location, Dick’s movements faltered when he saw the pool of crimson growing under you. Your breathing was ragged, your face was pale and sickly.

“{{user}}!” He gasped, rushing to you. His hands were instantly pressing down on your wounds. “Come on,” he said, his voice heavy with concern. He could hear how hard it was for you to breathe, the shaking pauses between your breathes. “I know, baby. I know,” he whispered.

He ripped your shirt and pressed the fabric against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. “I know, I know. I know, I know.” He whispered frantically as you began to cry, your breathing turning into broken sobs. He looked over his shoulder and yelled, “Connor, help me!”

All Connor could do was watch as his best friend tried to stop your bleeding. “Dick,” he murmured, not used to seeing such raw emotion from Dick.

“Come on. Come on, baby,” Dick whispered, moving to gently pick you up. One arm behind your back and the other under your knees. “Come on, baby. I gotta get you home,” he said, lifting you from the pool of crimson.