I know this literally has nothing Jaydick in it, but it's important context for part 2
———————————————————————————

Dick stumbled and grabbed his head as a headache pounded his skull.

"Nightwing, what's wrong?" Bruce asked, stopping next to his oldest.

"I'm fine..." Dick replied, steadying himself. "Just a headache."

"Do you need to go back to the cave?" Bruce asked resting one gloved hand on Dick's shoulder.

"I'll be fine," Dick replied quickly, not wanting to miss out on the rest of patrol.

Bruce nodded, turning and continuing on the patrol route.

—

Over the course of the night Dick found that his headache only seemed to be growing worse, progressing into a full blown migraine.

Eventually Dick could barely keep up with Bruce, stumbling his way across rooftops and swinging clumsily from building to building.

"Nightwing," Bruce said, steadying Dick when he stumbled after a particularly rough swing.

"I... I'm... 'm f-f-fine..." Dick said, falling into Bruce's arms.

"Nightwing, Nightwing what's wrong?" Bruce asked, panic seeping into his voice.

"Nnnn... head hurts..." Dick mumbled quietly.

"We need to get you back to the cave," Bruce said quietly, cradling his son to his chest.

—

Dick groaned when he woke up to the familiar sound of his ringtone, his head throbbing just as intensely as the night before. He cracked one eye open, but quickly closed it when pain spiked in his head. He was in the manor, which meant Bruce must've taken him there after he collapsed during patrol the night before.

The ringtone continued to blare, and Dick grabbed the phone and answered the call. "Hello?" He said groggily.

"Grayson, chief wants to know where you are. You were supposed to be in for work an hour ago," Dick's partner, officer Bentley asked.

Dick sighed, wishing his head would stop pounding. "Sorry, I got stuck in Gotham, but I'm on my way back," he said, hoping he'd get off easy on this one.

"Fine," Bentley huffed. "I'll make up some excuse, but you owe me one," he said, ending the call.

Dick let his arm flop back onto the bed as he groaned. Getting up to go to work was just about the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew Blüdhaven's chief of police had already given him more days off than he should've, so he fumbled around until he managed to grab his sunglasses, slipping them on before he opened his eyes again.

This time the sunlight only caused a slight increase to the pounding of his head, so he carefully stood and began to get ready for work.

When Dick finally made his way downstairs he hoped Bruce would be at work or something, but alas, his luck was far too bad for that to happen.

"How are you feeling?" Bruce asked, noticing how Dick tried to wipe the sweat from his forehead as inconspicuously as he could.

"I'm fine," Dick said, wishing for a moment that Bruce would show some of his patented Batman apathy right now instead of acting like a mother hen like he'd been doing ever since Jason's death.

"Are you sure," Bruce asked. "You were pretty sick last night. It's ok for you to take the day off."

"I said I'm fine," Dick snapped causing his head to throb. "I'm fine," he repeated quieter. "Besides. I shouldn't ask for more time off, chief might fire me."

Bruce sighed. "You think they'll will fire you? I doubt it, I'm pretty sure you're one of their best cops. Besides if you're sick you shouldn't be driving."

Dick sighed and grabbed his keys. "I'll be fine," he said once again. "See you later."

—

Dick sat at his desk with his head hung. He took measured breaths, trying to suppress the nausea that seemed to be constantly swirling around him. His head hurt worse than any migraine he'd ever had, almost as if it were slowly splitting apart.

"Come on Grayson, time for patrol," officer Bentley said, slapping Dick on the back.

Dick groaned as he slid off the chair he'd been sitting on and followed his partner out to their patrol car.

Bentley slid into the driver's seat and started the car, pulling out of the BPD parking lot and onto the street.

As they continued to drive Dick hung his head again. He was nauseous... really nauseous.

"You alright?" Bentley asked.

Dick didn't answer. He could tell he was breathing much too fast, and his forehead was beaded with sweat.

"Grayson?" Bentley asked, pulling onto a less busy road and looking for an empty spot on the curb where they could pull over.

Black spots danced in Dick's vision, and after a few seconds he fell forward limply, being caught by the seatbelt before he could hit the car's dashboard.

Bentley heard the sound of the seatbelt pulling tight and stopped the car and jumped out. He quickly rushed to Dick's side and pulled him into his arms.

—

Dick woke up on the sidewalk. He was lying on his back with the police cruiser's spare tire under his legs to prop them up.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Bentley said, trying to disguise just how relieved he really was.

"Wha... What happened?" Dick asked, wincing when his head throbbed.

Bentley moved into Dick's line of vision. "I think you just passed out," he said.

"Oh..."

"I'm going to need you to tell me what's wrong," Bentley said.

Dick was silent for a moment. "My head hurts," he finally whispered, tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes. "It hurts so much... I-I don't know what's h-happening." Dick whimpered and grabbed his head as his own words made spikes of pain shoot through his skull.

"Shh," Bentley shushed. "It'll be alright. I'll take you back to your apartment and tell chief you got sick or something."

"O-ok," Dick muttered, rubbing at his neck that suddenly felt slightly sore and stiff.

—

Dick laid on the couch, not being able to muster up enough energy to get up and move to his bed.

It had been several hours after Officer Bentley had returned him to his apartment, and he could feel that something was probably wrong... and not just a little wrong, but very wrong.

Each movement that Dick made sent a wave of pain through his body, starting with his head and radiating down through his stiff neck and sore muscles.

Dick closed his eyes as a wave of nausea hit him. A small groan escaped him, and he grabbed at his head.

As the nausea grew more intense, Dick managed to roll off of the couch and stumble into the bathroom before he vomited violently into the toilet.

He fell backwards, slumping against the wall as his eyes flickered closed and then open again.

It felt like a fog had descended onto Dick's mind and he looked around in confusion. "How... How'd I get here?" He mumbled. "Where am I?"

Dick's pain spiked again when he turned his head, and he whimpered quietly. "I need help," he muttered, taking in a deep breath before dragging himself back into the living room.

When he finally got back to the couch, Dick looked around. Why did he come in here again? That's right... he was going to call for help.

Dick grabbed his phone and opened the calling app, taking a moment to stare at the number keypad.

"What number should I call," he wondered.

Wasn't there a number you were supposed to call in emergencies? Was it... was it 123? Or maybe 111... No... it was something with a 9... 911? Ya... that must be it.

Dick dialed the 3 digit number and held the phone to his ear.

"911, what's your emergency?" A woman spoke from the other end of the line.

"I... my head hurts and... and I think somethings wrong with me..." Dick said.

"Alright sir, how long have you been having this pain?" The woman asked.

"I... I don't remember... I think today a-and yesterday," Dick replied.

"Alright, have you experienced any other symptoms?" She asked.

"N-no... no... yes, I... I... my neck hurts a-and I think I puked..." Dick said, noticing black spots in his vision.

"Alright sir, we're sending an ambulance to pick you up, could you tell us your location?"

"I... I don't remember," Dick slurred.

"That's alright, are you at home?" She asked.

"Y-ya," Dick said, swaying for a moment before toppling to the side.

"Sir? Are you alright?"

"Fell..." Dick said in something near a whisper. "I... I see black," he mumbled.

"Sir, if you can, please try to stay awake," the woman said. "Sir?" The woman asked again, but there was no response.

Dick lay on the floor unhearing as the 911 operator continued to try and get him to respond.

—

"Hello," Bruce said as he answered the phone.

"Hi, is this Mr. Bruce Wayne?"

"Yes," Bruce replied.

"This is nurse Jack from Blüdhaven general hospital. Sorry to bother you Mr. Wayne, but we have a patient here... a Mr. Richard Grayson who has you as his emergency contact," the man said.

Bruce's grip on his phone tightened. "What happened?" He asked.

"He... he has meningitis... we're currently treating him with aggressive antibiotics... but we're not sure if he's going to live."

Bruce froze... he couldn't loose another son... not so soon. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he said, getting up and rushing towards the door.

—

Dick stirred on the medical bed, laying there for a moment with his eyes closed. He tried to focus on something, but it felt as if his brain wasn't working with him.

The feel of the mattress beneath him and the strange sterile smell in the air proved to Dick that he wasn't in either his apartment or the manor.

A hand on his arm caused Dick to flinch violently and open his eyes. It was Bruce. How had he not heard him? As a matter of fact... there was a lot that he should've been hearing, but Dick's world remained in silence.

Bruce's mouth moving drew Dick's attention. He turned towards his father figure, an absolutely devastated look on his face. "Bruce," he said, the thought striking him of how strange it was to speak and not be able to hear himself. "Bruce... I can't hear you."