Chapter Text
Shadows have been following him. Dancing just out of eye, flickering in and out.
Numb lips form empty words, a warm welcome to someone just out of reach.
Silence greets him in return.
Who would’ve expected this grand reveal? An expensive display of opulence. Diamonds and gems blind his eyes.
“He needs medical attention, Red Hood. We can’t just stand here.”
Pills, bandages, and kissed bruises. A myriad of cures to Dick’s broken body seem so simple, when the reality of the destruction swallows them whole.
Pacing back and forth, Jason steps in between a slew of broken wood and trash. Tightening his gloves, he stops at Dick’s feet.
Looking down, Steph notices red. Bleeding lips. Torn skin pressed underneath exposed fingernails. Ragged gashes running zig zags across every inch of exposed skin.
Fingers grazing stained, torn fabric, Jason presses desperately into bruised skin. Wrapping arms around Dick’s shaking shoulders, he shoves the man upright, forcing his torn feet onto the floor. Stumbling forward with dead weight on his shoulders, Jason pushes past the fear that they arrived too late.
It shouldn’t have ended the way it did. Long forgotten memories resurface, and emotions buried miles deep suddenly rise to the forefront of Jason’s mind. Memories of syringes, unresponsive family, panicked jargon. But this isn’t about the past. It’s about the future.
Limp as a doll, Dick let’s himself be dragged. With his high-strung heart puttering too fast and too irregularly, even in a fog of nothing, he feels as though a heart attack sits seconds away from taking him whole. Jason’s panic at the past seeps into Dick’s body, buzzing into his veins, shaking among bees thrumming through his blood.
Thoughts slice and dice through Dick’s head. Filtering in and out of consciousness, the salty taste of guilt sticks to his tongue. He can only open and close his mouth so many times before he catches a fly. Falling flashes of color blind him as he watches the end of his childhood all over again. Music pulses in him ears, distracting him from the frantic voices surrounding him.
If only he had been on time. If only he had jumped after them. If only, if only.
Wet sobs spill from Dick’s mouth. Choking, loud cries for long finished tragedies.
Hands claw at his eyes in a silent attempt at clearing the images from his mind. Erase and delete. Pluck out and throw away.
“There’s no time for this,” a deep voice announces to silent ears.
Teeth-chattering laughter reverberate off of stone walls loudly. Cackle and cheering, a sick attempt at humor plays on repeat.
Egregious mistakes led to this moment.
A snapped rope caused Batman to take in a child soldier. Said child became estranged— lonely— nothing.
And today, there’s nothing left of that same nothing.
Does that make sense? No?
“Jesus, there needs to be an antidote—”
Lips smack around screams. Fingers soak in near-empty eye sockets that don't— can’t— won’t shake the images of cracked bodies from his mind. In a rush, another million and one ways of his baby birds dying join in the swirl of falling acrobats. A cycle of disfigured skulls infest his head, splintering what little sanity he grasps onto.
With arms still pressed around his shoulders, new hands join in propping him up like a puppet. Small hands grab onto his wrists dragging them away from clawing at the domino mask. Manicured nails hidden beneath gloves join, touching his hair, shaking beads of sweat loose.
Falling, falling, falling.
Is it raining? Wet and salty. He must be at the beach.
“It’s alright, Dickie,” a soft voice hushes, “It’s okay.”
Splattering bodies. Grass soaked with blood. Children torn from parents, and brothers torn from siblings.
It’s not okay. But maybe it will be one day.
For someone that greets each day with a smile and warmth, it’s surprising at the loneliness that has long plagued his heart.
An aching feeling presses in, hollowing its place in his chest.
Nausea. Bitterness. Emptiness.
He deserves this. He deserves to be alone.
Gripping the thick, dry rope, Dick almost wishes he could continue falling. Instead, his back shatters against cold leather. Head still to the floor, everything continues spinning around him, reverberating back and forth like a mixtape.
Hands grip his hair, and murmurings of assurance greet his ears. He can’t help but lose focus, allowing his chest to still for a minute, his numb lips parting open barely.
“C’mon, Dickie,” a soft voice hushes, “Just keep your eyes open. Don’t stop breathing, please.”
Whispered assurances continue cascading over him, but the dust in his head distracts Dick— is that his name? Can’t be, he was sure it was something else— from attempting breathing on his own.
Stars spin in front of him, pouring from the dark roof. Fat, wet raindrops fall onto his eyes as the blonde lady sprinkles him with tears.
“We’re almost home. Please…”
Every bump on the highway sends painful shocks reverberating up and down Dick’s spine.
He deserves the pain.
Crooning in his ears, the song of the dead mocks him. Chittering voices bleed in and out. Hushed arguments warp over his body, full of lead and stuck in position.
Time stretches on. Hours continue to bleed into what feels like seconds. Now, somehow, Dick lays amongst the stars. Joining the constellations he once appreciated from the soil below.
Alone, as always.
Sparkling lights shine around him, the beauty blinding his tired eyes.
But laying there, blinking grogginess and bitterness away, the feeling of being watched overtakes him. Shadows mock him, dancing just out of reach. The stars do nothing to protect him from the treachery surrounding his limbs.
It’s with his eyes pressed shut as Dick silently fights from slipping into the unknown again that he finally sees it.
Sprawled amongst the room is his family, with his father slumped over his bed.
“B’uce?”
Tongue swollen, mouth dry. His voice barely comes out in a whisper. But that hushed song sends Bruce’s head up and tightens his grip around Dick’s hand.
“You’re awake,” Bruce starts, voice strong but unsure. Blinking away something— dust probably got in his eyes, Dick muses— Bruce looks at him with a foreign expression. Fear? Hope?
Opening his mouth again, Dick’s quickly interrupted.
“You need rest, chum. We’ll be here. Go back to sleep.”
Confused, disoriented, and apprehensive, Dick frowns, but doesn’t question the finality in Bruce’s words. Though, he wonders how long he’s been out to be graced with his entire family crammed in the small room.
A room without stars, Dick realizes. Only blinking medical equipment and a lone humming lamp.
Regardless, letting the stars behind his eyes greet him again, Dick finally realizes something important.
He’s not alone anymore. Maybe he had never been.