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It is never a good sign when Bruce’s personal phone rings and Caller ID recognizes the emergency number of the League, especially on a random Tuesday afternoon where he’s puttering about the Manor after putting in an appearance at Wayne Enterprises.
It’s only happened a few times before, when his kids have been in dire straits and the League/Titans/Other team decided that they needed to reach out to his child’s emergency contact. So, all told, he’s only gotten this call maybe four times in over a decade.
The instant he sees the caller, his mind starts filtering through his children. Dick and Tim should be at work, he knows for a fact that Jason volunteers on Tuesdays, Cass has ballet in about an hour, and Damian should still be at school. As he swipes to answer the call, his eyebrows crease. What could this be about then?
“Hello?” he answers hesitantly, automatically dropping into the gravelly tone of Batman, and sets down the lithium grease he was using to fix Tim’s squeaky door hinge on a nearby side table.
“This is Green Arrow of the Justice League, calling because-Batman?”
Bruce’s heart plumets; he recognizes the start of the scripted message regarding grave injury. “Get to the point, Arrow.” Which of his kids got hurt? How did they get hurt? What happened?!
“I- Right.” Green Arrow sighs over the phone, and Bruce doesn’t miss the tenseness in his voice. “I’m calling because you’re listed as the emergency contact of Green Lantern Hal Jordan. He was recently delivered to the Watchtower unconscious from blood loss by Green Lantern Kilowog.”
Bruce immediately feels a bit lightheaded. Stumbling a bit, he leans against the wall. He… he forgets how dangerous Hal’s work with the Corps can be. He knew that Hal was being sent on a peacekeeping mission to M87, but Hal is just so frighteningly competent that he usually makes it back with, at most, a broken arm in a make-shift sling construct.
His heartbeat racing, Bruce clears his throat. “W-which med bay is he in?” Pushing away from the wall, Bruce hurries to his study and the Cave entrance within, barely even noticing when he stubs his toe on the desk in his haste.
“He’s currently in surgery in Bay 1 – near as we could understand from Kilowog, he took a log to the chest and has a lot of blunt force trauma, on top of various piercing and slashing injuries.” Arrow pauses, and Bruce spares a bit of gratitude for his teammate. Arrow might joke around a lot, but he’s Hal’s friend, and he clearly cares more about notifying Hal’s contact than prying. “It… it was touch and go for a bit, but the doctors think he’s stabilized.”
“I’ll be there shortly. Thank you, Arrow.” Bruce races as quickly as he dares down the stair to the Cave.
“Right. I’ll… see you soon, I guess.” With that, Green Arrow disconnects the call.
Bruce glances a bit frantically around the cave. This… doesn’t feel like something he should where his full uniform for, not to mention, most of them currently aren’t sanitary thanks to the Condiment King’s latest rampage. Not giving himself a chance to second-guess it, he quickly secures one of Dick’s spare Nightwing masks over his eyes.
Ah. The children.
Bruce is not the most emotionally competent man in the world, but his children adore Hal, and they would never forgive him for not notifying them.
He pulls up Dick’s contact on his phone and turns it on speaker, setting it on the computer console as he tugs one of Jason’s sweatshirts (left over the back of the computer chair) on.
“Bruce?” Dick asks. “What’s going on? You almost never call when I’m at work.”
Bruce scowls as he leans down to tie his shoe – when did the laces come undone? “I just got a call from the Watchtower. Hal’s hurt and in surgery. I’m heading up and need you to let your siblings know.”
Catching a glimpse of himself in the reflection on the dark monitor, Bruce scowls. He needs just a little more, but this is taking too damn long. As he whirls around the cave, he distantly notes Dick’s sudden inhale. “Is he…?”
Spotting Tim’s old Gotham Knight ballcap, Bruce pulls the (slightly too small) hat down on his head. “He’s stable,” he responses curtly. “Med bay one.”
Heart still pounding, Bruce races to the zeta tube. “I need to go. Will you tell your siblings?”
He hears Dick swallow. “Yeah… yes, I’ll tell them. Keep us posted, yeah?”
Punching in the zeta coordinates of the Watchtower, Bruce steps back to let the machine boot. “I will,” he vows. “Stay safe, Dick.”
“You too.”
Hanging up, Bruce takes a deep breath and steps into the teleporter.
17 hours.
That’s how long Hal was in surgery.
17 fucking hours.
A punctured lung. A fractured skull. Vascular trauma. Contusions and bruises and puncture wounds and blood loss and-
Bruce sighs and runs a hand down his face. Seated in a chair in the medical wing entryway, he hunches forward, elbows on his knees. His hair is itching from the grease buildup from being in the hat for so long, his face is getting irritated from having the mask adhesive on too long, and his legs are simultaneously itching to run and stuck in place.
Every half hour on the dot, one of his children messages him for an update. They’re clearly on some sort of rotation, and Bruce is sure that he has Dick to thank for not being completely inundated with messages. He shudders to think of what their sibling group chat must look like.
Ever half hour on the dot, Bruce hates that he has nothing more to tell them than alive and stable.
A mug of tea is suddenly presented before his face. Blinking, Bruce looks up to see Diana smiling gently at him. Accepting the mug, he sips from it as she takes a seat next to him and places an arm around his shoulder. “You need to take care of yourself, my friend.”
Sighing, Bruce wraps both of his hands around the mug and leans into her strength. “I know.”
Once he got to the Watchtower yesterday and gotten what few updates were available, he’d taken the time to call Barry, Clark and Diana.
Clark had been the first to appear and had played support for hours, shielding him from curious League members who wanted to pester Bruce with questions, fetching water and snacks, and all around being the best friend possible.
Diana had taken over sometime during the night, in one of the few hours where Bruce caught fitful sleep. She’d been as constant a presence as Clark.
And Barry…
Barry had been there the entire night, keeping a silent vigil over their brother. He’d only gone home once the doctors assured him that Hal would recover and Bruce reminded him that his wife likely was waiting for him.
Closing his eyes, Bruce inhales the fragrant steam of the tea Diana had prepared. “Thank you for the tea.”
Her arm briefly squeezes his shoulder before she pulls back slightly to rub his back instead.
After a minute, her circular rubbing motions pause. “You’d feel better with a shower. I’m sure your skin must be itching right now.”
Sipping from the tea again, Bruce leans back in the chair and rests his head against the back. “You’re right. I just…”
Taking the half-empty mug from him, she sets it down on a side table and stands. Taking both of his hands in hers, she gently pulls him to his feet. “Go shower. I swear I will fetch you if something changes.” Smirking a bit, she releases one of his hands and twitches the brim of his cap the tugs on the sweatshirt change. “Plus, then we can run your clothes through a speed wash. Stress is not a good smell on you, my friend.”
That startles a laugh out of him. “Right as always, Diana.”
Smiling, she holds tight to his right hand and tugs him toward the door. Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes sparkle. “One day you may just learn to listen to me, then.”
With a quick stop at the locker room to pick up a fresh set of clothes, she then leads him to one of the private baths on board. Stripping shamelessly, having long sense any short of locker-room modesty, he hands her the sweatshirt and cap. Tucking the bundle under one arm, she swears to have them clean as soon as possible, gives his hand one last squeeze, and leaves.
Peeling the mask off and wincing at the way the adhesive tugs at his skin, Bruce steps into the warm water, feeling it rush over his body and wash away the stress and fear of the last day.
Hal is stable, he reminds himself. The doctors predict that he’ll make a full recovery.
Bruce knew that Hal was important to him, prior to this, but… the worry he feels now is second only to the worry he feels by his children’s bedside.
He… he thought the pain he had felt previous was only that of a father. And the pain of his parents’ deaths, that of a child. That this is even close… is it the pain of family?
Hal had just brought so much life into their family that Bruce forgot that he could be another death that would potentially wreck him.
Rinsing the suds from his hair, Bruce relishes in the heat of the water.
Is… is it worth it, to care so much? Is the joy worth the pain, the comfort worth the sorrow?
Cass hugging Hal in the Watchtower kitchen.
Tim racing to tell everyone that Hal came for dinner.
Damian asking Hal for help with math homework
Jason connecting with Hal in a way he can’t with the rest of the family.
Dick controlling his temper with only Hal’s hand on his shoulder.
And Hal sitting before Bruce, Cat’s Cradle string offered before him.
It… it is worth it. It must be worth it.
Shutting off the water, Bruce grabs his towel and dries off.
Slipping into the clean clothes, he half-smiles. Diana really was right – he desperately needed that shower. Grimacing, he reapplies the adhesive and mask, pulling the towel up and over his hair to head back to the medical wing. He passes a few people in the hallway, most of whom look at him oddly and silently watch him pass – though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate Ollie’s silent shoulder pat.
Resuming his watch in the medical wing, he sits down, blinking when he notices the warm meal placed on the side table by his chair. Picking up the small note beside it, he recognizes Diana’s beautiful, flowing cursive. Please take care of yourself, friend.
Smiling slightly, he picks at the food before forcing himself to eat it all.
Diana is right, he reminds himself.
Once the meal is done, he sends out his update to the kids, dutifully answering their questions best he can. He only looks up from his phone when he hears Diana’s steps, likely purposefully loud, echo into the room.
Coming to a stop before him, she grins at his empty plate before holding out Jason’s sweatshirt and Tim’s hat. Taking them from her, Bruce contemplates for a minute. He’s not exactly cold but… that’s his boy’s sweatshirt. Not allowing himself to overthink his desire for comfort, Bruce pulls it on and then tugs on Tim’s cap.
Diana sits with him a while more before one of the nurses comes out. “Green Lantern can have visitors now,” they say. “Two at a time for the foreseeable future.”
Bruce shoots to his feet before he can think about it, glancing almost pleadingly at Diana. Standing with him, she places a steadying hand on his shoulder. “I’ll tell Barry and your children. You go ahead.”
He places his hand on top of hers briefly before marching into Hal’s recovery room.
His brother lies there on the bed, asleep and deathly still. The beep of the electrocardiogram echoes around the room, the only other sound the wheezing of his air tube.
This… this isn’t Hal. Hal constantly fidgets, creating mini constructs with his ring. Hal unconsciously reaches out and touches his friends and family any time they’re in touching range. Hal smiles and smirks and grins and laughs and…
Hal’s lying silent on the bed.
Bruce sits heavily at the bedside and reaches out, clasping one of Hal’s hands in both of his own.
For however long Hal needs him, he’ll be here.
From the moment that discussions regarding the small star nursery resource available devolved into conflict, Hal had a feeling that something bad was going to happen.
The feeling was only amplified when he took a tree to the chest.
Since then, Hal’s been passing in and out of consciousness.
A beat.
Kilowog telling him to hold on as they flee between the galaxies.
A beat.
He hears the doctors urgently discussing what needs to be done.
A beat.
Frantic yelling about… lungs? Vitals?
A beat.
He feels a slight pressure on his hand and hears his brother’s voice. “Don’t you dare leave us, Hal.”
From then on, the pain comes and goes in waves, likely based upon pain med dosage.
He hears Barry frequently, Clark and Diana with some frequency, Ollie passing by once in a while, even the more minor League members on occasion.
And often, so very often, he hears Bruce.
After who-knows-how-long, Hal feels that he’s finally strong enough and forces his eyes open.
Groaning, he blinks and lets his eyes adjust to the harsh lights of the recovery room.
“Hal!”
Managing to turn his head, Hal sees Ollie half standing from the chair at his bedside. “Hey, man.”
Standing fully, Ollie places a hand on his shoulder. “You scared us all half to death, man! Do you have any idea how I felt when Kilowog called in to have the med bay ready?”
Hal huffs. “N-next time I’m on the brink of death… I’ll try t-to do it on someone… else’s shift.”
His voice sounds weak, the stutter present as his brain tries to put his feelings into words and then have his mouth form the words.
He hates it.
Ollie laughs, but it sounds a bit forced. “You do that,” Hal hears, as he fades once more out of consciousness.
The next time he wakes up, Hal feels significantly stronger. Blinking his eyes open, he lifts his head a bit and looks around.
Bruce sits by his bedside, leaning heavily against Hal’s bed and snoring slightly. A slight grin creeps up on Hal’s face. It’s always fun to see his brother at his ugliest.
Mustering his strength, he puts his hand heavily on Bruce’s head and laughs when his brother shoots upright.
“Hey Spooky,” he greets, making eye contact through the mask over Bruce’s eyes. “Missed me?”
Bruce stares at him for a moment and then flops back down on the bed, groaning. “Of the first thing you do after you die is sass me.”
Hal places his hand on Bruce’s head again, though gently this time. “…I died?”
Not raising his head, Bruce mumbles, “Twice on the operating table.”
Gently rubbing Bruce’s head, Hal stares at the opposite wall. “…Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
After a moment, Bruce pushes himself upright and Hal lets his hand drop back to the mattress. Sitting up straight in his chair, he crosses his arms in what Hal knows to be his you made me confront uncomfy emotions posture.
After looking at each other for what is honestly a rather uncomfortable moment, Bruce turns his head and looks slight past Hal. “The kids will be happy to hear that you’re awake.”
Hal groans and tries to push himself upright. “I’m sorry for worrying them.”
Bruce grunts and wraps an arm around Hal’s shoulder to help him up. “They want to come see you, but…”
Hal gives him a wry grin. “That would mean exposing yourselves a bit more than you’d like, yeah?” Hal takes another look around the room. It has a weird sort of lived-in look to it, with clutter on the bedside table and phone chargers in nearly every outlet, which means… “How long have I been here?”
Bruce grimaces and doesn’t make eye contact. “Three weeks.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah.”
That’s one of the longer times Hal’s been out for injury, admittedly. He winces at what everyone at work will have been told – likely that he’s in the hospital from some sort of accident. Unfortunately, with injuries of this magnitude, even when he’s out of the hospital it’ll still likely be weeks before he’s cleared to fly.
Hal’s brought suddenly out of his thoughts by the flash of a phone camera. He blinks. “Did you just take a selfie with me in a hospital bed?”
Bruce shrugs and doesn’t look up from where he’s typing away on his phone. “The kids wanted proof that you’re awake.”
Hal blinks again, forcibly reminded of the fact that Bruce doesn’t really do social interaction. “Maybe ask first next time?”
Bruce crinkles his eyebrows, clearly slightly confused, but nods in agreement. Just as Bruce goes to open his mouth, he pauses and raises a finger to the ear that Hal knows he wears his League comm in. “Yes?”
Hal raises an eyebrow, watching the one-sided conversation with interest. “What? What do you mean? Are you sure?” Bruce sighs. “Right. Not much to be done at this point. Send him in.”
Bruce suddenly looks so much like a tired dad that Hal knows what happened. “Which kid hacked their way in?”
Bruce drags a hand down his face. “Robin. Who else would?”
Hal huffs a laugh and ignores the aching in his ribs. “Honestly? About any of them.”
Bruce mumbles something about crazy children, but that’s all he makes out before Superman opens the door and lets Robin in. The small boy pointedly ignores his father and comes to a stop at Hal’s bedside. “Jordan,” he sniffs, “It seems your incompetence has caught up to you.”
Hal chuckles and raises one hand to Robin’s head. “Good to see you too, kiddo.”
Despite the scowl on his face, Robin leans into the touch. “As soon as you are well enough, we will train more to reduce the risk of future injury.”
Hal winces at the thought of physical activity, but nonetheless nods. “You got it, kid.”
That Robin doesn’t protest the nickname is telling in and of itself.
Hal pats the edge of his bed. “Alright, kiddo. Plenty of space to join me. It’s comfort cuddle time.”
Robin stares at him for a second before climbing gracefully onto the bed. “Yes, your feeble mind is probably in need of external assistance. I shall provide it.” He then proceeds to very carefully burrow into Hal’s side.
Hal wraps one arm around him and rubs circles into his back, watching Bruce have an intense conversation via his comm in the corner. Eventually, he feels himself dozing off again, lulled to sleep by the warm weight at his side.
When next he wakes, it’s Nightwing at his side, playing some sort of game on his phone. Hal pulls himself upright, pleased that he doesn’t feel as noticeably weak as the last time. “N?”
The young man visibly brightens, immediately putting the phone down. “Hal! Hey man!”
Hal holds his slightly achy arms out. “Come here, then. I know your desire for physical touch is probably killing you right now.”
He at least manages to look a little sheepish. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Hal rolls his eyes and reaches out himself, pulling Nightwing down into a tender hug. The way the other man melts into the embrace softens a bit of Hal’s heart – not many people relax so much physically by him.
The door slams open. “Sup, bitch! I’ve got tea! Oh, hey, Hal.”
Hal pulls from Nightwing’s hug with a chuckle and looks over to see Red Hood standing in the doorway, notably without anything in his hands. “What tea?”
Hood waves one hand and tucks his helmet under the other arm. “Metaphorical tea, the best kind.”
He comes over and puts an almost unsettlingly light hand on Hal’s shoulder. “I just saw Ollie pinning B in a corner, interrogating him about why he’s Hal’s contact.”
Nightwing winces. “Yeah, even I’ve been getting calls from people on why I’m suddenly so concerned about Hal.”
Hood plops his helmet on the floor and sits sideways at the foot of Hal’s bed. “We all have, to be fair.”
Hal blinks. “You all have been acting so strangely around me that about the entire hero community has noticed?”
Hood looks at him like he’s crazy while Nightwing half smiles. “We’re not really good when one of the family gets hurt. Usually the biggest injuries happen in Gotham, so we can conceal it a bit better, but…”
Hal’s head spins. “But – people will figure something out. In fact, I’m sure people have already figured it out.” This family can’t wreck what they’ve worked so hard to protect on Hal’s account. He’s not worth it – now people will know and they’ll be at risk, and Bruce will pull back and blame him, and he hadn’t even told Bruce that he’d made him the emergency contact –
Hood places a heavy hand on Hal’s ankle while Nightwing wraps a hand around his wrist. “I can see you spiraling, Hal,” Nightwing says wryly. “Trust me, this is not something you should blame yourself for. If anything, Bruce himself is at fault.”
Hal squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to breathe, tamping down the panic. “What… what do you mean?”
Nightwing squeezes his wrist once. “He’s barely left the Watchtower since he got the call, Hal. Trust me, he may not know it consciously, but he’s accepted you completely as family, and there’s not much he wouldn’t do for you.”
Hal suddenly feels like crying. “Oh.”
Nightwing squeezes his wrist one last time, then lets go and grins. “Welcome to the family that can and will walk through hell for each other. In fact, we have.”
A few days later, once Hal’s able to keep more or less normal hours of consciousness, he’s released from the medical wing on the condition that he do bedrest. He scowls as Bruce helps him into a wheelchair. “This is degrading,” he complains.
Hal can feel Bruce’s eye roll. “Well, you still can’t walk more than a few steps, and your ring is out of charge, so that leaves us with one option.”
Hal crosses his arms across his chest as Bruce wheels him out of the room. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Bruce scoffs but otherwise doesn’t respond.
On their way to the zeta tube, they pass by the commissary. Inside, Red Robin is chatting with Diana over a cup of coffee. Spotting him, Red Robin instantly sets his mug in the sink and forceable hip-checks Bruce out of the way, taking over wheeling the chair. “Glad you can finally come home, Hal.”
Hal leans his head back and smiles at the kid. “Yeah, it’s good to leave the medical wing.” Straightening back up, he frowns. “Wait, by that do you mean – “
Bruce interrupts him. “You’re coming home with us. No one really trusts you to stay on bedrest without someone there to enforce it.”
Home. Hal… he hasn’t really had one of those in ages. That these people are just… telling him that he belongs in their home… He clears his throat. “I, uh, I feel like I should take offense at that statement. I have some self-preservation instincts.”
Red Robin snorts and Bruce grunts, and now Hal actually feels like he should be offended. “Hey!”
When they enter the main room, Green Arrow immediately beelines it to them. “Hal, you take care of yourself, you hear me? You owe me a night of beers and pretzels over football!”
Hal grins at him. “You got it; it’s the least I could do, right?”
Ollie nods and pats him condescendingly on the head. Then, he whirls on Bruce. “And you! I have no clue when Batman and Hal Jordan suddenly started getting along.” He emphasizes this with a strong poke to Bruce’s chest. “But! I do know that nothing on earth would be able to stop me from coming after you if you do something to hurt him further.”
Bruce huffs and cross his arms. “I have no intention of hurting my own brother, Arrow.”
Ollie drops his arm to his side and his jaw wide open at the same time. “I-I’m sorry? What?”
Bruce rolls his eyes and then carefully steals Hal back from Red Robin. “Sorry to cut this conversation short,” he says, sounding anything but, “but Hal really needs more rest.”
Ollie squawks a bit, but Red Robin has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face as he goes to enter the zeta coordinates. “The family’s waiting, Hal,” he says over his shoulder. Then, once the tube is whirling, he rejoins the group. The grin widens. “All set to go, Dad.”
Hal’s caught so far off guard that he hasn’t a hope of holding in the loud guffaw that Red Robin manages to draw out. He knows very well that the kids almost never call Bruce ‘Dad’ without an ulterior purpose, but Hal’s never seen it in action.
It’s glorious.
Bruce is frozen in place behind him, Ollie is choking on his own spit, and Red Robin just looks so self-satisfied.
“Yeah, B,” he can’t help but adding, “I’m still haven’t seen my niece – all your other kids came and visited me.”
Bruce groans as he snaps out of his stupor. “You’re menaces, both of you.” He pushes Hal toward the ready zeta tube.
That snaps Ollie out of his own shock. “Wait, you’re not going to expla-“
He’s cut off when they enter the tube.
The second that they arrive in the cave, Hal is basically attacked by his nieces and nephews.
With Cass perched on his lap, Damian standing between his face, Jason and Dick at each of his shoulders, and Bruce at his back, Hal feels a bit overwhelmed in the best way possible.
Blinking back tears, he blindly reaches out and pulls whoever he can reach into a hug, burying his face in Cass’s hair.
This… this is what family feels like.