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Dick let out a low whistle, looking at the pictures of the crime scenes pulled up on the large screen. Bruce was seated at the computer, lost in thought, when his eldest son made his presence known.
On the screen were pictures from three different crime scenes. They were the work of a family annihilator. Bruce had called him over from Jump City specifically for this case, he’d called all hands on deck. Dick could see why– this was ugly. Annihilation was a good word to describe it. The scenes were chaotic.
Bruce greeted him with a grunt, the man rubbing his face as he sat back in the chair.
Dick glanced around the cave. Tim would be around somewhere. If he wasn’t working the case, he was on patrol. “Damian’s still at Titan’s Tower. I told him we could handle this.” Dick said, not having wanted the boy to see this. However hypocritical it seemed, Dick wanted to protect as much of Damian’s innocence as he could.
The 13 year old was just starting to feel at ease with the Titans, starting to make friends with them. Dick thought it was better Damian spent the weekend there, than helping with this inevitable clusterfuck.
Bruce hummed a response. How long had it been since the man slept? A fourth family had been killed this morning, and that was when Bruce finally called them all in. Dick thought he probably would’ve done it anyway; 20 bodies was a lot.
Dick pulled up the screen from his holocomputer, built into the armor around his forearm.
“Do we have any kind of motive on these?” Dick asked, flipping through the online files.
Bruce shook his head. “We do have a time frame. Early morning. Gotham PD has put out a statement. We’ll have patrol in the morning, when the culprit is most likely to strike again.” Bruce stood up slowly. “I hate to say it, but we could use Damian’s eyes. Criminals will use this opportunity and take advantage of the police being spread thin and our own weak points. We need to canvas Gotham until the one responsible for this is caught.” Bruce looked up at the photos, his eyes narrowing.
Dick sighed. “I’ll pick him up. We can be back in time for patrol.” He confirmed.
Bruce put a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, chum.”
Oh, he really was tired. Bruce hadn’t called him that in years. Dick smiled, watching as the man went off to inhale calories before getting the bare minimum sleep requirements for brain function.
Dick pulled out his phone, sending a quick text to Wally.
Dick: Crunch time… I’ll be swamped for a few days
Wally: Date night officially postponed :( I’m finishing up the pizza in the fridge, then :)
Dick: All yours, babe
Dick ran a hand through his hair, putting his phone away.
The thing that rubbed him the wrong way was the last person to die for each family. They would cut their own throats. Three of the families, it was the father. One of them, the mother. After the first family, they thought it was just an isolated incident.
He narrowed his eyes in thought. Was it just because they were the head of the family? Or was there something else going on?
He frowned up at the bloody photos. One mother was missing a leg, and her child… He had seen a lot of brutal murders in his time as a vigilante. It was hard to see, of course it was. But he had a wall around his heart. That feeling could only go so deep, could only hurt so much, because there was something else inside of him that overshadowed every horrible thing he’d seen since he was eight years old. Like drops of paint in the ocean, there was nothing that could compare to that first pain.
And yet, it still made his stomach roll to see these broken bodies, broken families.
Dick pressed several keys on the keyboard in quick succession, and the screen turned black.
“Nightwing, check in.” Oracle’s voice came over the comms. Dick reached up his hand and pressed the button on the device in his ear to turn his microphone on.
“All good in Old Gotham.” Dick reported, “Except for Hugo’s donut shop. They had to close it down.”
“No bear claws for you tonight, bitch.” Jason spoke over the comms, making Dick laugh so hard he nearly fell off his perch.
“Language.” Bruce growled out, which only made Dick laugh more.
During tough cases like these, it was more than a challenge to keep everyone’s heads up, pushing forward. Dick and Jason had long ago taken up the roles of resident Gotham vigilante jesters.
“Settle down.” Oracle told them. Her voice lilted up in slight amusement. “Signal, check in.”
“Bristol is doing A-okay. We have the krispy kreme over here.” Duke replied.
“Boo, Dunkins is better.” Tim piped in.
“Say that to my face.”
“I’m going to disable the comms.” Oracle warned.
Nightwing clicked off his microphone. He was perched on the roof of a building in the financial district, close to Grant Park. He tapped his staff on his shoulder, scanning the streets.
“I am in pursuit of a suspicious man. Nightwing, he is headed your way, about to cross Trigate Bridge!” Damian’s voice came stilted over the headset. It sounded like he was running. Dick had half a mind to scold him for engaging without notifying them.
“Roger.” Dick spoke, jumping from the roof and grappling towards them.
“I caught him trying to break into an apartment. He is carrying a firearm.” Damian explained as Dick touched ground mid-turn. The grapple was pulled taunt as he rounded a curve, launching himself into the air.
He landed a lower roof, scanning for Damian and the crook.
“I see you, Robin. I’ll intercept him in Little Italy.” Dick launched off the roof, hitting the ground running.
Dick turned the corner and skidded to a stop, bracing as the man ran straight for him. He threw a flash grenade and turned away as it detonated.
The man appeared disoriented. Dick ran towards him and tackled him, pushing him to the ground. “Got him.” Dick grunted out as he pulled the gun out of the man’s jacket pocket.
In one quick move, the man turned to him and bit down hard on something in his mouth. Gas flooded out of his mouth, and he blew it directly in Dick’s face before he had a chance to react.
“Son of a–” Dick sent a clear, firm punch to the man’s face, knocking him out cold. “Robin– stay back!” Dick warned, coughing as he pulled himself away from the man.
“Nightwing!” Damian called, fear laced in his tone. He kept his distance, though, as the gas dissipated in the air. It was clear in seconds, and Dick ran his tongue over his mouth as he ran through the list of common poisoning symptoms. He didn’t have any of them, the only thing he felt was the taste of socks in his mouth, like a bad hangover.
“Robin, Nightwing, report!” Bruce barked over the comms.
“I was hit with something B, but I’m alright for now.” Nightwing answered, letting Damian take his hand and pull off his glove. The kid stuck him promptly with the portable blood analyzer they all carried. It could detect a few common poisons and the toxins most common to Gotham city. They had the Joker and Scarecrow to thank for making them regulation.
Dick gave Bruce their location. “I’ll be there in two minutes with the car.” Bruce told him.
After Damian determined Dick’s blood was free of the toxins they could readily detect, and Dick managed to stand up just fine, they handcuffed the man and called for Gotham PD. By the time cops arrived at the scene, Batman had arrived to take them back to the cave.
Dick was shoved onto a med bay bed as soon as they arrived at the cave. Damian didn’t take his eyes off of Dick the entire ride, and he stood in the room with his arms crossed as Aflred took blood samples.
“Bruce, it’s alright. It wasn’t anything fast acting, it wasn’t anthrax, and it wasn’t the worst offenders. We’ve ruled out the worst, you can go back out.” Dick told the man, but Bruce wasn’t hearing it.
“Not until we’re sure of exactly what it was that man dosed you with.” Bruce told him, giving him a hard look that told Dick to save any protest.
Dick couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved to have him stay. He hated to see the flicker of fear in Damian’s face, but it reflected Dick’s own emotions. He had been poisoned, drugged, knocked out with brunt force, and roofied via psychic powers. Dick had had his share of obscure gasses and their effects.
He swallowed, crossing his legs on the med bay bed.
“Whatever he dosed me with, he dosed himself.” Dick mused. “He must have built up immunity.”
“They’re questioning him now.” Tim spoke as way of greeting, walking into the med bay and pulling his Red Robin cowl off. “Are you alright?” He asked, a frown pulling at his face.
Dick smiled, “I feel fine.” He told his little brother firmly. “How are the others?”
“Worried.” Tim said, “but otherwise the morning has been uneventful.”
Dick nodded. “That’s good.” He looked up to see Damian still watching him. Was the kid even blinking? Dick gestured for him to come over.
When Damian was within reach, Dick rustled his hand through his hair. “Ugh– Grayson!” Damian shoved his hand away grumpily.
Dick laughed, but for a moment, hand still in the air, a different emotion cropped up.
Hate.
It burned in his chest, unmistakable.
Dick saw the images of the crimes flash through his head. The blood coating the floor and the walls.
“Dick?”
Kill–
“Grayson!”
Dick pulled his hand back to his chest, eyes wide in alarm. His chest ached, his heart rate having sped up dangerously high in seconds.
Bruce put his hand on his shoulder, the heart rate monitor beeping in alarm. Dick took slow, intentional breaths. The beeping stopped.
Dick kept breathing steadily, focusing on calming his heart. Bruce squeezed his shoulder, eyes scanning the monitor as his vitals returned to normal.
“Now will you stop insisting that you are alright?” Damian asked lowly, looking up at Dick with a look akin to betrayal. No, he was just scared. Tim put his hand on the young boy’s shoulder, but Damian shrugged it off and stepped back to his place against the wall.
“It’s okay, Dami. I’m okay.” Dick said soothingly, putting his hand on Bruce’s and squeezing firmly.
In several hours, everyone had made it home from patrol safe and sound. Dick eventually moved off the med bay bed as his blood was undergoing more in depth analysis. He had a mobile monitor that would alert him if his heart rate or blood pressure got too high.
He sat at the large meeting table with Tim at his side, looking through case files on the family annihilator. Jason was hanging around the cave for the day, which he insisted wasn’t for Dick’s sake. Cas and Stephanie set up their own operations at the other end of the table.
Damian stood next to Bruce, who was sitting at the batcomputer, in view of the meeting table. He had those pictures pulled up again and, try as he might, Dick couldn’t stop looking at them.
They made his stomach turn. He thought for a moment it was nausea due to the poison, but it seemed to get worse every time he looked at those pictures. When he looked away, though, there was an itch of curiosity he couldn’t push out of his head. Dick squeezed his hand into a fist, focusing his eyes on his laptop in front of him.
He had to look again. How much blood was in those pictures? The red seemed to fill Dick’s vision, easing the itch.
His heart felt like it was crawling up his throat.
Hate. I hate them. I hate them.
Blood. So much blood–
Dick stood up from the table and stumbled over to the nearest bathroom. He hurled into the toilet, heaving until there was nothing but bile left. Someone had followed him, their hand on his back. Bruce.
Dick sat back on the glossy tile floor. Those pictures were swimming in his head, he couldn’t think straight. A warm, wet cloth was pressed to his mouth, gently cleaning his face.
It felt like mud was filling up the ventricles of his brain. His thoughts had to wade through this sick obsession with those crime scenes. How did they die? Each of them, was it blood loss or blunt trauma? Dick felt like he was trying to stop the sky from raining, there was nothing he could do.
He snatched the hand that held the cloth. “Something’s wrong— It’s in my head.” Dick hissed out, Bruce’s alarmed face swimming into view. “Bruce— it’s bad.”
Dick was frantically trying to put the pieces together. His skin felt flushed, he was panicking.
“Alright, son. Alright.” Bruce spoke lowly. “We’re going to get you back to the med bay.”
No. That wasn’t it. Dick clenched his teeth together, the monitor going off. It wasn’t his body that was being affected, it was his head. And now that he understood what was happening, it seemed too late.
He knew why he was obsessed with those pictures. Dick grabbed his own wrist with his other hand, struggling to keep his muscles from moving on their own. He pulled his hand off of Bruce’s arm, slamming his back against the wall.
“It’s the same… as the pictures. Bruce, they killed their families and then killed themselves because…” He cut off, digging his nails into the flesh of his wrist.
Because they wanted to.
Dick’s thoughts weren’t obeying him. As Bruce tried to calm him down, all he could think about was the fastest way to kill the man. Dick himself didn’t want to, but it was the only thing his mind seemed to want.
“You… get away!” Dick shouted at him, the vitals monitor screaming warnings as his heart rate and blood pressure spiked. “Get away from me– Bruce– get everyone away!” Dick didn’t know how much longer he could control himself.
He realized now, passively, that the man who dosed him had been the one they were looking for after all. The chemical in Dick’s system was mind altering; it wasn’t the first time he’d been dosed with a psychoactive drug. A sort of apathy was trying to settle over him, and he beat it back with all the willpower he had.
Dick was struggling just to breathe without lunging out. Quivering on the bathroom floor, he was fighting back at the urge to rip his father apart with his bare hands. It pulled at his mind, his muscles, and he wasn’t able to explain what he realized was happening.
Bruce was the second greatest detective he knew. He would figure it out.
“Richard?” Damian called from the bathroom door, fear laced in his voice. Dick’s heart stuttered. Those thoughts started polluting his perception of the boy, and Dick knew it was only a matter of seconds before they compelled him to hurt his little brother too.
“Damian, go get one of the others. Tell them to bring a sedative–” Bruce was cut off when Dick landed a punch square on his jaw. The man was too dazed to block the second punch, but he managed to dodge the third.
Bruce caught Dick’s fist in his hand. Dick gritted his teeth together, putting his other hand on Bruce’s shoulder and headbutting him with full force. Bruce lost his grip, stunned, but Dick felt no shock from the impact. Adrenaline was coursing through his system as Dick pushed the man down, wrapping his hands around his throat.
No! Dick couldn’t stop it, his muscles weren’t his own anymore.
Dick was knocked to the ground in the next second, tackled by Jason, bashing his head against the tile floor. Dick struggled against his younger brother, who’d grown to be taller and stronger than him since his teenage years. But Dick had a feeling there was something else about the drugs in him, the way adrenaline could push the body’s muscles to contract so hard it tore them apart.
“Dick– Stop–” Jason grunted out, maintaining leverage on top of him. “Bruce what’s happening to him!?” Jason barked out. He managed to pin Dicks arms down for a second, only for Dick to pull up his leg and forcefully kick his brother off of him.
Damian was helping Bruce up. “I don’t think he’s in control of himself.” Bruce responded.
“Hold him down, I’ve got a sedative.” Tim called from the hallway.
How many hits would it take to knock Bruce down? Jason? Damian had been trained since birth to fight, but if it came down to it, would he be able to defend himself against Dick at all costs? The image of Jason’s beaten, broken body came to mind.
If this had come on while they were asleep, or unaware, would that have happened again? If these drugs enhanced his strength, could it still happen?
As Dick huffed for breath, he lost all sense of purchase in his effort to hold himself back. His body wasn’t obeying him anymore, and he could barely separate himself from the monster the drug was making him.
No wonder the victim’s killed themselves after. Each of them were forced to kill their families, still semi-conscious while they did it.
Dick flipped upright, grabbing the bar that held towels and ripping it off the wall.
“That was a little uncalled for, don’t you think?” Jason grunted, his stance wide and bracing for attack. Dick swun the bar at him and Jason just barely dodged. The bar slammed down on the sink counter instead, denting the metal rod.
Jason took the opportunity to get behind Dick, sandwiching him between Bruce and himself. Dick wanted them to go, wanted them to get away. Something on his face was wet as he lunged at Bruce, making to stab him straight through the chest.
Bruce caught the bar and pulled it out of his grip. Bruises were forming on the man’s face, and Dick’s stomach curled in guilt.
Stop, please. He wanted to stop.
Jason jumped him from behind, wrapping his arms around Dick’s and pinning them to his chest. Damian dashed past Bruce and locked his arms around Dick’s legs. “Tim!” Jason called, struggling as Dick thrashed in his hold. He managed to pull one arm free in the time it took Bruce to help Tim prepare the sedative.
Bruce grabbed the freed arm just as Dick was reaching for Damian’s neck. Jason switched to hold back his other arm, the two of them pulling Dick down to his knees. Damian stepped back and switched places with Tim, who delivered the sedative in a deft prick of the vein on Dick’s neck.
If Dick clenched his jaw any harder, his teeth would break. His muscles didn’t stop thrashing until they were forced to, dragged into respite by force. His breathing slowly became easier, his mind still swirling with those bloody, violent images, but gradually falling in intensity.
He sagged forward in Jason and Bruce’s hold, his head falling onto his chest as unconsciousness overcame him.
Tim hadn’t even had to fight his brother, but his heart was pounding. Blood was dripping from Dick’s mouth, his face wet with sweat and tears. He might’ve bit his tongue or cheek under the stress of trying to resist the drug.
Bruce took Dick’s weight, pulling the eldest son against his chest as the atmosphere began to calm. Jason sagged against the wall next to the shower, sweat dripping down his face as well.
Tim tried to calm his heart rate, taking deep breaths as he put away the medical supplies he’d used to sedate Dick. Seeing him like that was… horrifying. Dick was nothing but kind, certain and scary when he wanted to be but never directing that onto his family.
“The family annihilators were drugged by that gas, forced to perform the murders under its influence.” Tim figured slowly, swallowing thickly.
Bruce grunted, still catching his breath. “Damian.” He addressed the current robin steadily, still holding Dick to his chest. Tim turned to look at the boy and was surprised to find him edging slowly away from the scene.
Damian’s eyes were wide, his lips pulled down in a frozen frown. He looked terrified.
“Go find Alfred, please?” Bruce asked gently, his voice scratchy from the fight but assured and calm nonetheless.
Tim noticed Damian’s eyes were trained on Dick, just like they’d been all night. “We’ll both go.” A new voice said. Stephanie was standing in the hallway, Cas on her right, and she stepped into the bathroom, reaching a hand over and resting it on Damian’s shoulder. The boy flinched, but he didn’t protest as she led him out of the room.
“I really didn’t think Dick had that in him, even with the drug.” Jason muttered in the next second, pushing himself off the floor. “Big bird holds some rage in there, that’s for sure.”
Tim gave Jason a look. From the way the older boy glanced over his shoulder, he guessed Cas was giving him the same treatment. “What? I’m just saying I’d rather we didn’t repeat this.” Jason bent over to help as Bruce silently began to stand himself, pulling Dick up with him. The two men supported the original Robin together.
Despite his jesting words, Jason looked as uncomfortable as Tim felt. His expression twisted as he shifted his hold on Dick.
“Are you alright, Bruce?” Tim asked, the bruises on the man’s face and neck darkening.
The man nodded. “I’m fine.” Bruce sighed out. “Let’s get Dick set up and get to work on analyzing the drug in case it doesn’t clear out of his system on its own. The blood analysis should be ready.” Bruce instructed, ever rounding up his ducks in some kind of order.
Tim wrinkled his nose as he turned out of the bathroom and headed for the batcave lab. Bad analogy.
Dick snapped awake as suddenly and violently as he’d fallen unconscious. He tried to sit up, but his chest was held down with a thick strap. His wrists were similarly detained.
For a moment, he didn’t understand. Wasn’t he supposed to go out for patrol? Dick blinked up at a familiar ceiling, the taste of copper stark in his mouth.
“Hey.” Dick heard a voice speak up, cautious and soft. Tim? He turned his head to see the boy sitting about a foot away from the med bay bed, computer in his lap. He was watching Dick with reserved eyes, his shoulders tensed.
Why did his little brother look scared of him? Dick winced as the small movement of his head set off a cascade of pain, both from the front and back of his skull. Fuck, that hurt. Still, it was nothing compared to the ache in his chest, seeing that thinly hidden fear in Tim’s face.
“Tim? What’s wrong?” Dick croaked out, turning his head back to forward and trying to breath to control the pain. “Ow.”
“Dick.” Tim breathed out relieved, as if he’d been expecting someone else. He pulled his chair closer to the bed. “You have a slight concussion. What do you remember?”
Dick frowned up at the med bay ceiling for a few moments before it all came crashing down on him.
“Is everyone okay– is Bruce alright?! I didn’t– did I hurt anyone?” Dick demanded, wincing as he tried to push up against the straps again. He was restrained because they were afraid he would attack again.
He was going to be sick…
“It’s alright, Dick.” Bruce spoke up, walking into the room. “Everyone’s fine. Just a few bruises.”
“I managed to pull together an antidote a few hours ago, it looks like it worked.” Tim said, glancing at Bruce and then back to Dick. “I think it’s alright to take these off?” He sounded unsure. Dick had put that note of fear there.
“You seem aware again.” Bruce agreed, walking over and placing a hand on the railing of the bed as Tim undid the straps. Dick almost wanted to stop him. What if… what if it wasn’t all gone?
Dick stared up at the ceiling, his eyebrows drawn together in a worried scowl. Neither Tim nor Bruce spoke as Dick observed the bruising on his knuckles, and then the shiner on Bruce’s jaw.
His head was clear now, he could tell. His mind recoiled from the thought of those crime scenes, no longer pulled toward the violence by the effects on the drug. But still, his hands shook as he thought about what could have happened. What his body was willing– eager to do.
But Tim was looking at him now with relieved, hopeful eyes. Dick forced his hands to steady and his face to relax, giving the younger boy a reassuring smile. Dick reached over and pressed the button that moved the bed so he could be sitting up. Tim moved his chair again, putting his laptop on the part of the bed that was flat, next to his legs.
“They’ve got the culprit in custody. His name is Craig Bismarck.” Tim told him, turning the laptop so he could see the police files that Gordon must have sent over.
Dick nodded, listening as Tim filled him in on the interview and charges for Bismarck. He noticed that Bruce stayed in the room, flipping through files and sorting through the medical supply stocks in the drawers.
Eventually, Tim closed his laptop and scrutinized Dick with all the attention of a proper detective. Dick tried his best to look like nothing was wrong, tapping his fingers to replicate his usual restlessness in bed. Truth be told, he could go back to sleep in a moment, fatigue weighing on his body and mind.
“I have to go, I’m meeting Connor at the mountain. Do you want me to say anything to the team?” Tim asked, tilting his head to the side.
“Yeah, go ahead and tell them I’ll be out for a few days.” Dick decided after a few moments. He knew that Alfred wasn’t going to let him work until his concussion had at least two days to stabilize. “Thanks, Timmy.” Dick held himself back from rustling his hair. He didn’t… he didn’t want to…
Tim nodded, lingering for a second before he left.
Dick rested his head back on the bed, rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand.
Bruce turned from the busywork he’d been pretending to do and watched him. Dick’s throat began to squeeze. He didn’t want to break down in front of the man. But his defenses went down the second Tim left the room.
He didn’t want to burden his brothers anymore than he already had. Dick had a root of guilt in his stomach that was growing out of control. He moved his hand to cover his eyes as they prickled.
“I’m so sorry, Bruce.” Dick spoke softly, knowing the man had been waiting for him to speak first. “I tried to… I tried to stop it, hold myself back…” Dick couldn’t hold back the heat behind his eyes. The guilt and shame and worry and stress all rolled out of him.
He froze as Bruce wrapped him up in a hug, squeezing him firmly.
Dick didn’t want to touch Tim, who he’d normally shower with hugs. He didn’t want to touch anyone for fear that he would hurt them. As Dick tensed, Bruce cupped his hand on the back of his head like he did when Dick was a child.
“It’s alright. Dick, you did really well.” Bruce told him, the words sending a shock through him.
He shook as he started crying, each hiccup and gasp muffled by Bruce’s shoulder. The man sat on the bed and sat with him as he sobbed.
“I thought I was going to hurt them. I did hurt you.” Dick couldn’t bear it, how close it had come. “Those pictures, I couldn’t get them out of my head. I thought that was going to be Damian and Tim– the drug almost made me want it. ” He spoke softly, his voice hoarse.
Bruce pushed him back slightly, setting his hand on Dick’s shoulder. “You’re alright now, Dick. The drug is out of your system and it’s going to be alright.” Bruce told him, looking him in the eyes. “You fought it, and you won.”
“Those families didn’t.”
For him, it had been a near miss. But for the other families… Dick couldn’t bear to think about what they’d gone through.
Bruce squeezed his shoulder, “No, they didn’t.” He pulled Dick in for another hug.
“So how is he?” Jason asked, dropping his regular motorcycle helmet on the table beside the couch. Tim glanced up at him from his seat on the couch. Damian was curled up in the armchair across the room. Jason had driven back to his apartment to grab a few pairs of clothes and other things he would need to stay a few nights at the manor. Dick had moved up to his room earlier in the day, confined to the house by orders of Alfred the Great.
Jason scratched Titus behind the ear as the dog pressed his nose onto Jason’s knee. Damian looked at him bitterly; the kid hated how Titus had a soft spot for him, and vice versa.
Tim glanced up in the direction of Dick’s room. “He’s distant. The drug was designed so the victim is conscious of what they're doing. Although they don’t want to do it, they can’t stop the compulsion, either.” Tim explained, a frown on his face.
Jason made a face. “That would be torture for him.” He meant it honestly, no humor or jest in his voice.
“Richard isn’t at fault.” Damian muttered, his arms crossed on the couch. Titus turned his head back to the boy and stepped over, resting his head on the boy's tense knee. Jason raised an eyebrow.
“That’s what he said.” Jason pointed out, tilting his head toward Tim and sitting on the edge of the couch.
Damian tutted his disagreement, standing up and walking out of the room, Titus following. Jason shared a look with Tim.
Dick was going to have to pull it together sooner rather than later. Jason hated to admit it, but he wasn’t a big fan of how little he understood Damian. Sure he understood him, but he didn’t know how to talk to the kid, and he held little to no rapport with him. Timmy, he could talk to. Cas, Duke, and Stephanie were easier, they didn’t need prying open like a rusted hinge.
“Alright, I’m heading up.” Jason decided, rolling his shoulders. Tim gave him a mock salute, not looking up from the files on his laptop.
When he knocked on Dick’s door and cracked it open, he hadn’t expected Big Bird to actually be in bed. Normally he’d be stretching or sitting up and doing some work. The golden boy was as restless and antsy as they came.
Jason raised an eyebrow. Dick was staring at the ceiling, awake and lying down. “Hey. Big bird.” Jason called, and Dick blinked, sitting up.
“Hey, Jay. What’s up?” Dick pushed the words out, giving Jason a smile.
Jason closed the door behind him. He walked over to Dick and sat down on the bed beside him, watching him closely. Dick visibly stiffened. Jason tilted his head back.
“What, you think you think you’re going to hurt me?” Jason asked, raising an eyebrow and grinning. “Dickie, you couldn’t hurt me if you tried. And last night, you tried.” Jason told him, his voice half reassuring and half cocky.
Dick shook his head, looking away. “Jason…”
“Dick, I get it. You think I don’t get it?” Jason had been there before, in a startlingly similar way. “I almost killed the replacement, remember?” The lazarus effect had pushed him to be his worst self, to give in to every little emotion amplified tenfold. “You think you can’t trust yourself anymore, that you could be capable of that. The fact that you’re so put out by this is proof to the contrary. You’re not a killer, Dick. You’re not even a bad brother.”
Dick looked up at him. The older man always seemed so sure of himself, and Jason had hated it most of the time they’d known each other. He wanted that surety, that confidence, especially after the lazarus effect.
Jason held one arm out, looking away as if he was annoyed. “Come on, sunshine. You get one hug free. Just don’t expect more than one.” Jason told him.
Dick’s posture tensed, but then, after a few seconds, he leaned forward into a hug. Jason let himself be squeezed by the man, pretending that he was exasperated. Truth be told, he was glad Dick took the bait. If he had passed, Jason would have really had cause to be worried.
“Thank you, Jason.” Dick said quietly, pulling away with a soft smile.
“Feelin’ better?”
“Yeah…”
“Take your time, big bird. But, maybe, pull it together soon? Damian’s pretty worried. I only have one pep talk in me today.”
“Haha, yeah, alright.”
Dick found Damian sitting in the gardens, even though it was mid winter and the boy was wearing a simple shirt and pants. It was going to snow in a few days and there was frost on the windows.
He sat next to the boy, putting his arm up on the back of the bench. “Hey, Dami.” Dick greeted, looking out into the gardens.
Damian turned and looked at him, suspicion in his eyes. “Are you going to lie and say you’re okay, Grayson?” Damian asked bitterly.
Dick tilted his head. “Is that what you’re worried about?” It was rather insightful for the kid.
“That’s what you told Drake. But it’s not true.”
“Why’s that?”
“You blame yourself.”
Dick tilted his head back, finally understanding. “Damian, I don’t blame myself. It was an accident that I got dosed.” Dick told him calmly, meeting the kid’s hard eyes gently. He knew that Bruce had already given him a lecture on engaging the enemy without backup. That wasn’t what Damian needed. “We look out for each other in cases like that. I’m lucky that you responded so well. You did a good job helping me, Dami.” Dick told him, reaching over and rustling the kid’s hair.
Damian sniffed, but he didn’t shove Dick’s hand away. “I’m sorry, Richard.” He said softly, so softly Dick almost didn’t hear him. “It was my fault.”
Dick sighed. “Damian, it’s okay. I don’t blame you, at all.” He told him, tilting his head to meet the boy’s eyes.
Damian frowned, but in the next second he dove into a hug. Dick was startled, but promptly wrapped his arms around the boy and squeezed him close.
Dick wrapped an arm around Tim, settling next to his little brother as they got ready for a movie night.
“Jason, give it up!” Stephanie growled out, reaching for the remote that was being held high above her head by the taller man.
“I am not watching the Princess Diaries again.”
“That is a classic.”
“N. O.”
Dick let his head fall on the back of the couch. Cas was curled up on the end of the couch with a little space between her and Tim. Damian sat on the other side of Dick, closer than he normally would be, with Alfred the cat curled up in his lap, Titus at the edge of the room, chewing on a toy.
“Will you pick something already?” Tim drawled out, flipping through a set of school notes in his lap.
Alfred walked in, a bowl of popcorn in his hands, sitting down in one of the armchairs. Bruce was snoozing in the other armchair, having fallen asleep nearly as soon as he sat down.
Dick closed his eyes, smiling to himself.
Those images still poked at the pain buried deep in his heart, but with time, it would feel better. It would never be alright, what happened to those families, what happened to Dick’s parents. But he knew, he’d learned this lesson before, it was better to take comfort in the family he had now. It was better than giving into the fear, and keeping everyone at a distance.
Dick fell asleep before they started the movie.