Chapter Text
It started out like any other day.
There was no such thing as a normal day in Bludhaven but there was normalcy in what Dick had to do. Get up, feed Haley, scroll through the endless amount of emails and even more incoherent text messages from the family group chat that he’s inevitably slept through and missed.
The therapist that he refuses to see on a regular basis says that he should take a break.
There’s a reason that he doesn’t see him anymore.
It had started out like any other day, Dick doing what he does best as Dick Grayson– putting the money Alfred had given him to good use.
Haven was a sanctuary, or so he wanted it to be.
Dick should’ve known better than to think that he could get whatever he wanted.
“...and I’m standing in front of you today, more certain than ever that we can be stronger,” Dick says to the crowd gathered in front of him, connecting with each of them in the way that Alfred taught him.
Stand up straight. Speak with clarity. You belong there .
It’s as if Alfred’s standing beside him, telling him what to say and how to say it– disregarding that Babs had taken the time to look over his speech and given him pointers or that Duke had given it a more thorough edit.
Dick speaks as if his life depends on it, which is a metaphor that in hindsight he uses too heavily.
He hears it before he sees it, the schwing of a sound that’s all too familiar and the immediate hit– a bright flash of red and gold that hits him too slow.
Too slow .
That’s not something that Dick usually associates with Wally West.
It’s immediate and blinding, the pain that blossoms across his chest– just as the disorientation is from the way the world warps around them.
He’s looking out at the crowd and then he blinks and he’s looking up into the sky– not his sky though, the clear blue skies replaced for something more reminiscent of a Dickensian novel.
“ No . No, no, no, no,” he can hear Wally say, swearing under his breath as he gently lays Dick down on the ground– the pain making itself known as he tries to take a breath.
Tries being the operative word, lungs struggling from the sharp pain that he feels– Wally’s hands pressed against his chest as he crowds up in Dick’s vision.
“Stay with me, alright?” Wally says and Dick doesn’t plan on going anywhere, not knowing where here is anymore but convinced that this was a shit way to die.
Again .
Jason would never let him hear the end of it.
“What–”
“I’m gonna get you out of here,” Wally says, nodding a few times as Dick tries to breathe again– the sharpness of it and the immediate way that he’s unable to telling him all that he needs to know.
Wherever he’s been shot– and the pain currently throbbing from his chest, not quite close enough to his heart but enough that it’s murderous to breathe– means that any movement would be fatal. He’s lived through enough injuries, lived enough to know that whatever Wally’s thinking of doing he’s got to do it quick.
It’s the one thing that he can trust Wally to do.
Should be able to, until he hears an unearthly screech to his left– Wally looking over his shoulder.
“Shit,” Wally says and it’s all he gets to say, Wally wrestled from Dick from one blink to the next.
“What–” Dick gasps out, looking to his right and seeing nothing– whoever or whatever that had taken Wally being just as quick as he is, the realization coming to him just as quickly as his breaths are able to.
Dick looks aimlessly over to the right before finally righting himself, looking back up to the sky and taking stock of the situation.
He’s been shot, that he’s certain of. From the feel of it– sharp pain, interrupted breathing and the worry in Wally’s eyes– it’s not immediately fatal but it could be.
He’s… not in Bludhaven anymore, the snow that’s gently falling down and the cold emanating from the ground underneath him telling him that wherever Wally had rushed them off to in his rush to get him away was nowhere near the early March weather he’d woken up to.
Dick tries to think of where the hell he could be, reaching down to his pocket for his phone only to wince– not just from the movement but from the memory of where his phone currently is.
Still on the podium, likely with his speech still plastered on the screen.
Shit , Dick thinks as he swallows down that old and familiar feeling in his throat, closing his eyes and trying to think of a solution to his predicament.
He’s shot, bleeding on a rooftop somewhere if the wind blowing across his face was any indication– in a city somewhere far from Bludhaven from the sharp change of weather.
He doesn’t have his phone nor his suit, still dressed in the button down and tie that he’d put on this morning as he opens his eyes– hearing something to his left.
“Shit, man. You okay?” He hears a voice ask, Dick going to lift his head up only to gasp in pain.
“Shit. Not okay, not okay,” the voice says, rushing up to him and immediately pressing a hand to his chest. Dick looks up to him and blinks a few times, confusion flooding him as he tries to make sense of who is kneeling above him.
“Jason?” He asks, watching as they tilt their head to the side.
“Is that your name? Hi Jason, I’m Spider-Man,” he says, gently pressing down on to the wound as Dick winces. “Sorry, I know it hurts. Gotta stop this from bleeding.”
“Spider-Man?” Dick asks, the blood loss getting to him. He can feel it in the way his limbs feel cold, though how much of that has to do with the weather or the knowledge that he’s bleeding out, he doesn’t know.
He doesn’t know a Spider-Man but he doesn’t keep up with the new metas anymore, he should ask Raven if…
Dick hisses in pain, feeling the pressure in his chest as Spider-Man presses down.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I— I gotta stop the bleeding,” he says but there’s something in his voice that wavers, familiar in a way that clenches at something in Dick’s gut.
“S’okay,” Dick slurs, which he can recognize is a bad sign— his attempt to placate Spider-Man having the opposite effect.
“ No . You’re going to be okay,” Spider-Man replies firmly, as if convincing himself. “You’re gonna… here—“
He shoots something at his chest, Dick barely getting the chance to see what it is when he’s lifted up— groaning in pain as Spider-Man manages to lift him up as if he didn’t weigh a thing.
“I got you. I’m sorry, just— hold on for me okay?” He asks, Dick knowing with certainty that whoever Spider-Man is that he has supernatural strength— holding up Dick with one hand like it’s nothing while he sends another out into the city somewhere.
Dick considers himself to be a smart man, not nearly as smart as Duke or as Tim but able to handle his own. He’s not smart or quick enough to catch on to what Spider-Man plans to do until they’re already tumbling over the rooftop, the familiar flip in his stomach from moving into free fall causing his head to spin.
“ Fuck ,” he says, from the pain as Spider-Man holds him tighter.
“I got you,” Spider-Man says earnestly.
Dick doesn’t really have a choice but to trust him.
He passes out somewhere from one swing to the next.
One minute he sees the dip and turn of unfamiliar buildings and the next he’s laying in a hospital bed, groggy and feeling the familiar coolness of some kind of medication flowing through his veins.
Dick knows from the smell of the antiseptic and the steady beeping of a heart monitor that he’s in a hospital, something more familiar to him in a way that he’d rather it not be.
He scrunches his eyes, slowly testing the waters as he opens them and looks around the room.
It’s a nice enough room, clean and well-kept together. It’s better than any place than he’s seen in Gotham but maybe not Metropolis, trying and failing to remember what the weather would’ve been like there.
There’s no way I’m in Metropolis , Dick thinks to himself– not if Wally was still nowhere to be seen and Superman hadn’t found him yet. The thought occurs to him that maybe he’s not just somewhere else but maybe when he was– looking around to try and get some details. It wouldn’t be the first time Wally had overshot and ended up somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be.
Where is he now?
Dick sighs, wincing slightly as the way his chest twinges at that– putting aside trying to figure out where or when he is in favor of figuring out if he was even going to last long. Wherever he is.
It’s almost as if he could hear Jason calling him a dipshit in the back of his mind, adjusting the hold of the hospital gown he has on.
He’s been bandaged up well and from the IVs running through his arms, feels infinitely better than he had before.
The door clicks open, Dick turning to see who it is to see a kind-faced nurse– a smile on their face as they nod towards him.
“Hi Jason, good to see you up,” they say, Dick frowning as he raises an eyebrow.
“Hi,” he says, not correcting them because he can’t be too careful– studying them as they close the door behind them and come up to to the side of the bed.
“You were out like a light the last few times,” they say, the slightest Southern accent in their voice that throws Dick off. He hadn’t thought they were that far off from Bludhaven but with Wally it was anyone’s guess, nodding a few times as he smiles.
“How long was I out?”
“Since my shift started oh about,” they glance down to their watch, “six hours ago? I’ll page the doctor to come in and check on you. Do you remember what happened?”
I got shot while giving a speech and my best friend tried to save me. He’s a speedster, ran me off to God knows where before some meta named Spider-Man dragged me off a rooftop and brought me here .
“Not really,” Dick settles on, unsure of just how much the nurse knew of metas or their own feelings about them– not when he’s still not sure of how safe all of this was. He didn’t think Wally would put him in any danger but he’s also not sure where the fuck Wally is right now.
“That’s alright,” the nurse responds as they check his IV, Dick watching them carefully. “Though the cops may have some questions for you, when you’re feeling up to it.”
“Cops?”
The nurse’s smile tightens, almost apologetic as they say, “Sorry, routine in cases like yours. It’s not often that we get someone brought in by Spider-Man with a gunshot no less.”
“Spider-Man? You know him?” Dick asks, the nurse’s smile turning more amused.
“Doesn’t everyone? Got accused of murder a few months back,” they say, taking note of something from his IV before moving to the monitor that’s changed to them. “Not that I believed any of that foolishness.”
“ Murder ?” Dick asks, the nurse’s expression shifting as Dick clarifies. “Sorry, I’m… from out of town.”
To say the least , he thinks as the nurse looks at him carefully.
“Honey, do you know where you are?”
“The hospital?” Dick asks helplessly, the nurse looking sympathetic.
“I’ll have the doctor come in sooner, get that head of yours checked out,” they say, that twang coming through their voice once more.
Dick lets that settle as they finish out their checks, a creeping feeling in the back of his neck that there was something significant that he was missing. Dick really didn’t keep up with meta news but if one had been accused of murder in the last few months and had as much reach in the news that the nurse seemed to believe, it was unlikely that Raven hadn’t heard about it.
If she would’ve told him about it was another matter entirely but he likes to think she still felt like she could talk to him, it wasn’t as if–
“You alright there?” The nurse asks, throwing Dick out of his thoughts as he looks back up to them. “Got quiet.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lies easily, a skill that came naturally now. “Well, as fine as I can be since…”
He trails off, lifting a head to motion towards his chest before instantly regretting it– the nurse smirking as they rest a hand to his arm, gentle as smile at him.
“Well, you’re safe now,” they say before letting go, “I’ll have the doctor come in soon, alright?”
Dick nods, the nurse going to leave when he asks, “Where am I?”
The nurse pauses, sympathy written all over their face as they reply, “New York. Mount Sinai to be specific.”
Not that far then , Dick thinks– more confused as he asks, “And the date?”
“December 29th, 2024,” the nurse rattles off, causing Dick to blink a few times.
What the fuck?
There are a few things Dick learns about his current situation in quick succession.
The first is that while he is in New York, he is most certainly not in his New York– something that becomes immediately apparent with the questions that the cops ask him and the results he gets from getting the television turned on.
There’s no Metropolis, no Gotham, no Central City– nothing that sounds familiar to him as he scrolls through the channels. There’s no Superman and no Batman but there are metas here– mentions of someone named Thanos and of Iron Man and Thor, Dick getting his hopes up when he heard of a Captain Marvel possibly entering the atmosphere only to find out that it was someone else entirely.
He can’t say with any kind of certainty– not without a phone or access to the internet– but he’s pretty damn convinced that he’s in a different universe.
Which explains Wally’s disappearance , Dick thinks to himself as he scrolls through the channels– trying to make sense of the place that he’s in and all its rules. Time Wraiths were a bitch of a thing to shake off.
It’s his best guess anyway.
Another universe would also explain the sheer improbability of almost no one having found him yet, fingers itching for the phone that he knows is nowhere near close to him. Dick tries not to think of the panic that’s currently happening in Bludhaven or in the group chats that he’s in, wincing less from pain but from having to deal with the fall out of this when he gets back home.
If I get back home, he thinks and then shakes away.
He’s going to get back home.
The second thing that Dick is aware of is that this universe has… a different kind of ethos. The parallel of Gotham and Metropolis was the source of many a dinner discussion growing up— mostly between Alfred and himself— but the overarching knowledge of metas was a way of life.
This doesn’t seem to be the case here.
There are super powered beings— like Spider-Man— but from what little Dick is able to gather, the world that he’s in now doesn’t approach them as an every day part of life. They’re special. Unique.
Dangerous .
Even if it weren’t for the bullet wound to his chest or the lack of anything available to him, the chances of Dick being able to slip out of here without some kind of problem was slim to none.
The third is that the presence of superpowered beings— particularly those not of this particular planet— were not seen in the same way that Superman is.
He knows they exist from the news coverage he watches but it’s more of the same, discussions of intergalactic peace treaties and talking heads that discuss the merits and negatives of being a part of those discussions at all.
This world is new to metas and aliens, as far as Dick can tell— chewing the inside of his cheek as he weighs his options.
He’s alone, he’s injured, and he’s by all accounts in another universe. He has no way to get in contact with anyone and no resources to even begin to try.
Dick sighs, leaning his head back against the pillow.
You’ve been through worse , he thinks to himself.
Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t make him feel better about his current situation.
A day passes. And then another.
Dick is getting restless, the last few days being the first in a long time that he’s been forced to sit still.
The irony of this isn’t lost on him, fingers itching to crack a joke in the group chat at his own expense only to remember that he’s alone.
The first nurse— Jamie, he learned— cycles through on their shift, being the nicest of the nurses that he has while he’s there. It’s during Jamie’s shift that he thinks he has the best chance of booking it, the cops having lost interest when they realized he had no information to give and a social worker coming back talking about “relocation” and “rehab.”
In his own universe, Dick would’ve been able to pass off any and everything on a trip to Wayne Manor— the reluctance in using that card in his daily life being overridden with the necessity.
He has no such card to play here.
It’s time for Dick to get creative.
“Any weekend plans?” He asks Jamie as they dutifully check his blood pressure and his IV, Jamie smiling at him as he smiles back.
“Working,” Jamie says congenially, “so you’ll be seeing a lot of me.”
I won’t , he thinks but doesn’t say, Jamie taking note of what they need before they look around. “Anything I can get you?”
Dick shakes his head.
“Nope, all good. Thanks. For everything,” he says, Jamie’s smile deepening as he does.
“You got it. See you tomorrow, Jason,” Jamie says, Dick nodding in return as Jamie takes their leave.
He almost feels bad, for leaving like he is but shakes it off.
Dick Grayson might not be the type.
Jason Todd certainly is.
It’s surprisingly easy to slip out of the hospital.
A side step behind a cart here, a confident walk there and before he knows it— he’s out the door, slipping out of the emergency room in a coat he lifted from a chair and in sweatpants he swiped from a stock room.
There’s some part of him that wishes he had cash or even a note to leave behind but he tries to think more like Jason now— having little to no options available to him as he rubs his hands together and walks with purpose down the busy street outside of the hospital.
The shoes he nabbed out of a janitor’s closet are old and worn, a size too small and painfully uncomfortable but Dick needs to keep moving— looking around and taking in his surroundings as he does.
He hasn’t been to his own New York much— aside from a date night here or there with Kory back in the day— but it seems familiar enough. The faded murals of the hero he knows to be Iron Man are scattered around the city along with other types of graffiti that he can’t make sense of.
Thanks Thanos. Mysterio was Right. Who is the Watcher?
None of rings a bell nor would it, Dick wishing more than ever that he had access to his phone or the internet. He passed by a few coffee shops but he doubts the wifi there will be of any help— wondering if Internet cafes are a thing in this universe when he bumps into someone.
“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, moving aside as the person he bumps into looks at him.
“No problem. You alright?” He asks, Dick meeting the eyes of a teenager— his friend staring warily at him.
“Actually, sorry, do either of you know where the closest library is?” Dick asks, the kid’s friend— a girl with curly hair stuffed under a beanie nodding as she points in the direction he’s walking towards
“There’s one three blocks that way,” she says, Dick nodding and moving to walk away before he thinks better of it.
“Thank you. And one more thing,” he asks, seeing the look on both of their faces and knowing he’s pursuing his luck— what little he knows of the New Yorkers in his own world not giving him much hope that people here anymore friendly, “is there a… a shelter somewhere? I’m— I just need a—“
“There’s FEAST,” the kid he bumped into interjects, pointing towards the right. “Take that street, four blocks down. Can’t miss it.”
“Thank you,” Dick repeats, the two of them nodding before he turns away— thankful for at least some direction when the girl whispers to her friend.
“Come on, I’m gonna be late for my shift.”
He leaves the two behind as he walks forward, looking between the two streets.
He needs information, but if there’s anything he’s learned from Alfred it’s that appearances matter.
If the look on either of the kid’s faces was any clue, Dick looked rough to put it mildly.
He knows Gotham has a habit of kicking people out of buildings who don’t look up to snuff, a bad habit Bludhaven’s picked up despite his best efforts.
Food. A new change of clothes. Preferably better shoes.
Dick takes the right towards FEAST as he begins to make a plan.
The plan is simple.
Clothes, food and shelter, in that order
Figure out if magic exists in this world
Find a way home
He’s well on his way to getting the first, getting checked in at FEAST by a volunteer named Teana who, upon seeing him, immediately offers him the chance to look through some donated clothes.
He’s dressed in better shoes— socks included this time— and a much warmer, well-fitted hoodie as he goes through the line at FEAST to get some food.
Dick takes in his surroundings, the pennants that adorn the walls and the beds all organized across the floor. He’s learned from eavesdropping on some of the volunteers that FEAST isn’t just one place but several, currently in Chinatown and seemingly at the main hub of FEAST centers.
There’s no FEAST in the New York in his world but Chinatown sounds familiar, taking note of the similarities and differences as he continues to move down the line.
Dick’s overheard enough to help fill in the gaps of the things that didn’t make sense to him in the hospital— putting together something one patron called the Blip with the Thanos graffiti from a drunken rant someone had coming in.
Dick eats his soup, sitting at one of the tables they have designated for him to eat and thinks of what to do next.
From what Teana said, he was welcome to stay or to go— resources available to him if he wanted to transfer to somewhere more long term or just needed a warm place to sleep tonight.
The weather outside was dark and overcast and with Jamie’s shifts serving as any kind of marker, it was going to be dark soon.
Dick slurps up some soup, apologizing to Alfred through the multiverse for his manners as he sets his bowl down.
He’s got somewhere to be.
Dick’s never been afraid of the dark.
Dick zips up his jacket tighter as he walks down the street.
He got confirmation from one of the other patrons that there’s a library that stays open later, the same one the girl and her friend had given him difections to from how close it is.
Dick’s fed, better dressed and has a place to sleep tonight.
Now he needs to figure out how to get home.
Snow crunches underneath his feet as he walks, shivering slightly as he bundles the jacket across his chest and makes his way towards the library.
It’s not any colder than Gotham on a bad night but there’s still the problem of the gunshot wound— feeling sore and achy, regretting not swiping any painkillers from the hospital as he winces.
He’s dealt with worse, he’s nearly died from worse but it’s the feeling of being out of sorts and out of step with the rest of the world that makes this different.
Maybe that explains why he’s so caught off guard.
He’s just a block or so away from the library if his directions are right when he hears movement behind him, reflexes slow and body moving even slower because of the wound he most certainly shouldn’t be moving so quickly with.
“Give us your wallet,” one of the goons says, Dick feeling the cold press of metal to his side.
“Don’t have one,” he says calmly as the other guy rifles through the front of his hoodie, Dick holding back a wince as he pats down where the bandage currently is.
There are about a dozen different ways that Dick can see himself out of this— the gun pointed to his back meaningless in the scheme of things.
But Bruce taught him better than this— keep it simple, play it smart .
There’s no use in him trying to get home if he winds up dead.
“Fuck, man. Third one tonight,” the guy behind him says, Dick’s mouth quirking up as the one in front sneers.
“What are you looking at?”
“I’m not—“ Dick begins to say when the guy in front swings, Dick easily evading him as he moves beyond the guy’s grip from behind.
“What the—“ the one with the gun asks, Dick wishing he had something more than his hoodie but it’ll make do— moving to the left when he hears a thwip to his side.
“Hey guys, come on, it’s the holidays. Sharing is caring after all,” a vaguely familiar voice says, Dick watching in amusement as a web is shot out to the guy with the gun— said gun wrestled from his hands as another web shoots down and plants him to the ground.
“Thank you ,” Spider-Man says as he flips down into the alley way, easily sending another web to the guy that had tried to knock Dick down— Spider-Man doing a double take when he looks over at him.
“Dude. You have the worst luck,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re roof guy.”
“Sorry?”
“Roof guy, with the…” Spider-Man says, motioning to his chest before looking more closely at him— Dick following where his eyes must be at only to frown when he sees that there’s blood that’s seeped through.
“Are you even supposed to be out here? What—“
“I’m fine,” Dick says with a smile, firm and polite just like Alfred taught him. “Thank you. I should go.”
“To the hospital ?” Spider-Man asks as Dick walks past him, his chest throbbing in pain as he waves a hand behind him.
“Thanks again,” he says without stopping, half expecting Spider-Man to follow after him.
Dick’s relieved that he doesn’t, walking in the direction of the library and trying hard not to limp as he does.
By the time Dick walks back into FEAST, he thinks he has more questions than answers.
A brief search is all it takes to confirm that whatever universe he’s found himself in, it’s not one where Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman or any of the Justice League exist. To his endless amusement, the only proof of any of them existing seems to be based in comic books— Superman outselling Batman in a cosmic stroke of irony.
Dick has to remember to tell Clark that when he gets back home.
Magic unequivocally exists, a sorcerer named Doctor Strange and another named Wong that seemed to be based in New York City despite news appearances elsewhere. A notable news story in this universe’s Los Angeles involving superpowered beings tells him a little more of the scope of this world, along with the knowledge that the word “meta” was almost nowhere to be seen.
He knows from Constantine’s grumblings that magic is fickle and complicated, not something to be trifled with as well as not something easily manipulated.
The chances of these sorcerers believing him were slim to none and even less of a chance that he’d be able to find them, but Dick has to try— thankful at least that the existence of people called Avengers and Spider-Man enough proof that his claim wouldn’t be completely ignored.
It’s the latter that intrigues him the most, news snippets and blog posts that don’t make a lot of sense as he dived through him.
From what Dick can tell, there was a problem a few weeks back— coverage about multiple Spider-Man sightings and a fight down at this universe’s Statue of Liberty.
There’s not much there and surprisingly little video of it, the utter lack of CCTV giving him pause for how deliberate it is.
Spider-Man was accused of murder, or so Jamie had said, and yet there was almost nothing to show of it— no trial, no video evidence, nothing to indicate that anyone seemed to care at all aside from gossip and tabloids.
In any other case, Dick would just let it slide— it’s not as if anyone at Wayne Manor hadn’t dealt with their own mismanagement of the press.
There was something off about it though in a way that Dick couldn’t put a finger on, distracted as he walks into FEAST and looks for a cot as he bumps into someone.
“Sorry,” Dick says, kicking himself for being this clumsy to do this twice— having bumped into another kid it seems who looks at him in mild surprise.
“Oh, hey. It’s fine, you okay?” He asks, something off in his voice as Dick blinks— the immediate apology he had now replaced for confusion.
“I think I should be asking you that,” Dick says, the kid’s face unreadable as he looks down to his chest then back up to him.
“You should get that checked out,” he says and that’s what does it, Dick keeping his face neutral as he looks down and sees the patch of blood seeping through.
“They got medical here?” He has, keeping his voice even— the kid’s eyes watching him warily before pointing over to the other side of the building.
“You need—“
“I got it,” Dick says with a smile, the kid’s expression still neutral as Dick says, “sorry again.”
“No problem,” the kid replies as Dick walks over to where he’d pointed to— convinced now of three things.
The first is that while magic and aliens exist in this world, the specific oddities of his don’t— making any chance of going home difficult unless he can find an ally.
The second being that the closest ally he could think of would be Spider-Man— someone who seemingly has had his own share of weirdness in the last few months and might be the easiest one to find.
And the third, the one that Dick hadn’t been sure of until he heard the kid behind him speak, is that Spider-Man would be easy to find.
He looks over his shoulder, watches as he talks to a FEAST volunteer.
Dick knows exactly who Spider-Man is.