Now with quite a few driving violations under his belt that would be someone else's problem, Jason parked up the car as fast as he could and hurriedly lead Leslie inside. Alfred must've heard the car pull up as he waited by the stairs to accompany them to Dick's room. They chose not to notice the worry pulling on his features upon seeing them nor address that her presence was needed. "Hello Dr Leslie," he greeted. She gave him a sad smile in return along with a little wave. She never really was good at comforting him when his boys were hurt. "He's just upstairs. The others are with him. He's apparently vomited and his fever is quite high. I've had to redo his dressing as the stitches burst." She nodded, making a mental note of the new information as they climbed the stairs. Alfred opened the door to Dick's bedroom to reveal a very pale acrobat surrounded by ice packs and worried family members. At first, she thought the severe sweating was simply from the condensation of the ice but upon closer look she noticed it was drenching him rather than just the areas near the bags. He looked like he was on the verge of truly sleeping which made Leslie feel a bit guilty about putting a stop to that plan in order to conduct her examination. His siblings greeted her silently with a look of an acknowledgement as she crossed the room and gently put a hand on his knee to stir him awake. Her attempt at a light awakening made him jump awake and attempt to scramble away before his feverish gaze took in what he was looking at. "Hello Dick, I've been told you're not feeling very well," she told him to help him put together the remaining dots. "I've been told it's stemmed from an injury you received on Wednesday?" Dick stared at her for a little too long before actually taking in what she said. When he did, he looked between her and Alfred.

"Yeah uh, Alfie fixed it though?" he questioned as he moved the sheets to show the injury. 

"I'm just looking over his work," she assured him. "I'd like to look over him in private. Would you all mind leaving the room?" They nodded reluctantly and shuffled out of the room. No doubt they wouldn't be far in case she needed them but she'd much rather they be out of sight. She knew what the family was like and she didn't fancy having them looking over her shoulder the entire time. A hurried doctor is a hazardous doctor. "Now, how are you feeling?"

"Well I've got a fever and I threw up before. I got confused before but I'm better now, just warm and it's kinda hard to think properly," he explained although his voice seemed spacey. Leslie raised an eyebrow at the last part so he continued. "I thought I was back with Tiger before I got back in bed. Maybe the ice cooled me down?" The fever was high then but she didn't tell him that. She got out a thermometer and put it in his mouth, waiting a moment for it read then taking it away. Yep, it was high. Not high enough for the hospital yet but it was high enough to worry about. She'd fetch Alfred to pick up some from the facilities downstairs. A fluid IV would also be helpful in looking at how much he was sweating and some stronger fast-acting antibiotics. She didn't like the looks of this and the quicker it was nipped in the bud, the better.

"How long have you been feeling sick?" she asked. He shrugged in response but she wasn't having that. That worked when he had a cold that turned into flu or when he dislocated a finger for a party trick rather than fighting. It didn't work for this. "Jason told me about your behaviours since Bruce died even if it was briefly. I'm aware of your history but he seems to believe this was unintentional so I suggest you tell me otherwise I may have reason to believe otherwise."

"I swear I didn't mean to!" he blurted out. "I just got caught up with everyone that I didn't even notice. I've been feeling run down lately but I didn't think it was anything worse than burnout. They needed me to be there." She frowned empathetically and turned her attention to the wound. Carefully, she put on latex gloves and began to peel away the bandages to assess exactly how screwed the acrobat was. "Alfred called you."

"He did indeed," she replied, taking note of the sore skin. 

"Not a hospital trip but bad enough to call you," he continued, verging on rambling. He laid back with a sigh and stared at the ceiling. Watching her work was making him queasy. "B would kill me if he saw this."

"I'm going to attribute that comment to your fever. Bruce was many things and I'll be one of the first to admit he wasn't the best to you but he wouldn't be disappointed in how hard you're working to protect your family. You saved him back then and you're saving his kin now," she told him sternly. 

"Those kids are grieving and I'm scaring them by being normal one minute and loopy the next. I should've done better, I should've- AH!" 

"That was unintentional but well-timed. I didn't like where your sentence was going," the doctor said before he could accuse her. "Do you remember anything about the knife?"

"It hurt," he deadpanned. "Probably got it from one of Tony's boys so it would be a regular kitchen knife they got from the store. Not a steak knife." He yelped upon her further examination of the cut. 

"It was a clean-cut at least. You wouldn't be here if it were serrated. You know how bad that can be from when you were twelve." She continued to prod and gently press to get an idea of the damage. Naturally, she couldn't see much but she trusted Alfred. If anything was off, he'd tell her. "Exhaustion takes a toll on the body. Most immediately think of lack of concentration and the general fatigue symptoms but it affects your bounce back too. Couple that with one nasty infection and you've got yourself the mess you're in now." He stared at her, not getting what she was suggesting. She huffed but she couldn't blame him. Right now, she was lucky that he was actually partially following along. Soon enough he'd burn through the energy he had and go back to how his family found him. "Dick, you need rest and I don't mean to rest until you're better. You can't go back to what put you in this bed." When he did get it, he hummed and looked the other way. "Give it some thought. For now, I doubt you'll be getting very far out of bed to do much."

"Am I a good brother Leslie?" he asked after there was a prolonged bout of silence. She looked at him empathetically, seeing some of that fever glazed look return. It must've taken all his energy to stay in the moment. That was probably a good thing though as long as he didn't need any examinations later.

"You are and don't ever let them say you aren't. You did more than most brothers would do." He hummed again, staring at her so intensely that she had half the mind to think he couldn't actually see her. "Now get some rest. Your fever isn't breaking until tonight by my guess so it's going to be one hell of a few hours."

When Dr Leslie walked out of the room, she was immediately met with the group of concerned young adults with an equally concerned Alfred holding them back from barging in. She knew better than to waste flowery language on them so she got straight to the point. "I want to put him on a course of IV antibiotics and IV fluids. You'll have that here though so I'll oversee the set up. For now, his breathing is okay so it looks like it's staying as fever and vomiting. I'm happy with him staying here for the time being but if you see any blood in his vomit or he's having trouble breathing, bring him to me ASAP," she explained. They nodded thoughtfully. It wasn't exactly the news that they wanted to hear but most decided to focus on the positives of not spending time in the ER. Hospitals were always an uneasy experience for the family. 

"How long is the recovery on this?" Jason asked. He brushed his hands through his hair nervously to wring out some of the anxiety. 

"If he turns around tonight, a week of bedrest following the infection clearing up."

"And if he doesn't?" Tim questioned.

"I'll be straight with you here, he's in a bad way. I could get a moment of lucidity but that won't be the norm. It's going to take weeks to get back to his usual self even if it seems otherwise," she stated. There wasn't much sugar coating but they'd heard worse from the doctor and yet here they stood. When death wasn't on the table, they could be happy with the results. "Alfred, keep an eye on how his wound looks. You don't waste a moment if that cut looks like it's on the turn."

"It already looks on the turn," Steph commented.

"I'm afraid that's what an infected cut looks like. Keep him on things that won't upset his stomach, hydrate, you know the deal. Give him some painkillers if he needs them."

"Thank you, Dr Leslie," Alfred said. She gave him a tight-lipped smile and nodded. "I'll assist you with finding the correct IV bags. I suggest we leave Master Dick to rest. Master Tim, can you finish the rest of his duties? I believe he needed to send some documents to Misstress Barbara." The younger nodded, sighing to himself. "Once Dr Leslie is done, Master Jason will drive her back."

"And if I get pulled over, expect me to post my bail," Jason joked although it was based in truth. 

Tensions in the house were high, each of the vigilantes keeping their ear out for anything and everything. They tried their best to focus on their tasks for the day which had doubled since Dick was out for the count. It wasn't until then that they physically saw just how much he'd done for them and how little they'd done for him. Although being the oldest, they knew better than to discount him. He was still only in his twenties, around the same age Bruce was when he took in his first Robin, and they weren't his kids. They were his siblings. Every time they passed his room, they'd peek inside just to check as though he'd magically be okay but every time they found him either completely out of it or dead asleep. Occasionally, they'd change out the ice and the flannel that was keeping him cool but he hardly stirred during those moments. The best they'd get was a sleepy whine or grumble. Sometimes they'd bump into one another and give each other looks of sympathy. Damian tended to linger beside his brother's bedside. At best, he'd get some moments of conversation that upon further examination made some sense. One conversation after being mulled over turned out to be Dick reminding him about a test. The test in question had been months ago but he appreciated the sentiment. He'd always make sure that Dick had everything he needed before leaving to take his mind off things. It never really worked but what else was there to do?