Robin scowled. "So you're saying all this is my fault?"
"Not at all. I'm saying Micky saw that you were dedicated to stopping Mackenzie and realized there are people in this world who take things like that seriously, even though it isn't their official job." Falcon knelt in front of Robin, taking his hands. "You set an example he wants to follow. Yeah, he jumped in with both feet, but I think it's just the way he is. You and he have a lot in common. Hell—" he smiled wryly, "—you were the kid who dropped out of school to try to find Dad's killer. No training. No idea about what he and the rest of us did. You were just hell-bent for leather to right a wrong—in that case, catching a murderer. You haven't changed since then."
"I… I suppose so."
"You know so. So don't go getting on Micky's case, because he's just like you." Falcon chuckled. "It would probably surprise him to realize that, but it doesn't make it any the less true."
"I guess he is. Poor man." Robin smiled softly, then said, "Help me get dressed?"
"No way. You're in no condition to be out of bed yet."
"At least my jeans, Fal. I can't have a serious talk with Micky when I'm naked."
Falcon grinned. "Depends on what you're talking about."
"Not that. Damn." When Falcon didn't move, Robin appealed to Hawk. "Just my jeans."
Hawk sighed before going to get him a pair of sweat pants. "These will be easier on you," he explained.
Falcon pulled them over Robin's legs. Then Hawk acted as a support when Robin stood to get them the rest of the way up.
"You're leaving finger marks on my arms," Hawk commented when Robin gripped them tightly to fight off the pain from the waistband's pressure on his back.
"You'll live," Robin told him, as Hawk helped him sit again.
"Yeah. You, I'm not so sure of," Hawk retorted.
"I'm fine. It's getting better. I'm getting better."
"Looks like you got the sweats on just in time," Falcon said when the sound of a car coming up the driveway came through the open window.
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