Chapter Text
“I’ll test it first.” You said. Your fingers rapidly type at the holo-screen’s main console, the keyboard and screen casting a light glow of blue against your face. You can see the rest of the team mentally preparing themselves through the blue hologram. You meet eyes with Kaldur, who questions you both with his eyes and his voice, apprehensive,”Are you sure that the holo-room will be successful in it’s job? And are you sure that you want to be the first to test it?”
“I’m sure.” You confirm, sliding away the screens and pulling your gloves on a little tighter. You straighten up and the flock of young heroes gradually silence until your voice is the only one that can be heard. You raise your hands in surrender, displaying the [color] pads of your palms to everyone. You find making eye-contact with Dick is easiest, as being the center of attention has never been something you looked forward too, and he gives you an encouraging nod to begin.
“Alright, everyone. Today’s exercise is going to be a little… sensitive.” You began, coughing when your voice wasn’t loud enough and correcting your own volume. Dick gives another nod. You are reminded who you are speaking too; your friends, your family, and most importantly your team. You have nothing to be afraid of… yet.
“I’ve set up a new training program for the holo-virtual simulation room. And after a lot of research and time spent delving into Dr. Crane’s notes, I’ve figured out a way for all of us to face our fears—in a safe manner.” You see a few members shuffle their feet, expressions hardening in determination. M’Gann and Conner in particular appear to feel a combination of hesitation and courageousness.
“With M’Gann’s help, we’ve managed to download some useful information and set it up. You’ll enter the holo-room one at a time, and the program will recreate a scenario where you are forced to face one of your weaknesses. This is in order to improve your ability on the battlefield and blah, blah, blah.” You laughed, ”You get the point.”
“If there’s anyone who doesn’t want to do this, you can leave. But I advise that you stay.” Kaldur adds, and you give a nod of agreement. You smile when no one exits, ”You brave bastards. Well, I’ll go first just in case I messed up. M’Gann?”
M’Gann steps forward, and the group waits around the console while Dick, Kaldur, and M’Gann follow you up to the spectating room. After you give a few short instructions on how to disable the program just in case something goes wrong, M’Gann gently holds your temples as her eyes glow green. When you open your eyes and the color disappears from hers, she appears uncertain and possibly… sympathetic, ”Are you really sure you want to go first? I could always—”
You cut her off with a simple wave of your hand. M’gann sighs, murmurs something that distinctly involves the word “stubborn”, and hovers her hand over the print on the second console. Dick smiles at you and raises his thumbs, ”You’ll do great, babe. I bet it works perfectly. After all, you designed it.”
Kaldur’ahm hums in agreement, then gives his nod of approval and unlocks the training room door. When it opens you can see nothing but pitch darkness. It unnerves you as you suddenly realize just what you’re doing, but the feeling is instantly covered up by a brave face. You flash the trio a smile, Dick in particular, and before you can back out of your own creation you are locked inside it.
The training room isn’t that large when the lights are on, maybe as about the size of a small high-school cafeteria, but the darkness makes it go on forever. In addition to the training room’s many devices that make the simulation seem more real—treadmill flooring so you could walk forever in any direction, robots and dummies to act as people with programmed voices, holographic expansive paneling that could come off of the walls and display any scenery—but M’Gann had also looked into your mind, feeding the system and altering your thoughts so every machine was a person and the rubber flooring was thick grass.
It feels as if a heavy sheet had set around your mind when you enter the training room.
You walk deeper into the darkness, extending your arms to feel around for anything. You feel something soft as your ears begin to ring, the blackness blanketing your form slowly fading, transitioning in a video-game styled manner. You find your arm brushing someone else’s as you climb a hill. There’s a massive bouquet of flowers under his other arm. The simulation is so realistic that you can even smell the lilies.
Your breath hitches when Dick smiles forward, chuckling under his breath. You don’t know what to say, unsure how the program will respond—how your own mind will respond. It’s supposed to attune to your worst fears. Your stomach churns. If this involves Dick, then maybe you had overestimated yourself. Your mind races and grapples at any theories or predictions of what will occur in the next few seconds, anything at all, from Dick’s murder to him never knowing you at all, but then you immediately understand when you call his name, ”Dick?”
He doesn’t even blink. He doesn’t register that you’re there. He just keeps walking forward, almost bouncing to try and keep himself from sprinting up the grassy hill. Dick glances at the flowers, and something in his eyes brightens when laughter echoes over at the hill’s peak.
“There you are!” Zatanna greets, giggling.
Dick flushes and grins, unveiling the bouquet to her and hastily stepping before her. You are left a few feet behind the pair—the pair—as you take in the rush of information. Dick presses the assemblage of flowers into Zatanna’s hands, ”I’m so sorry I’m late, Z. I had to pick up something first.”
She hugs the flowers to her chest, breathing them in a blushing, heavily. Zatanna turns up her chin toward his,”You’re so sweet Dick. Really, you—you spoil me so much and I only got you a small gift…” She trailed off, slouching. You hate how you wince and take a step backward when he leans down and captures her lips in his.
When they break away, Dick’s grin is so large and euphoric you imagine his cheeks are aching with his mirth and love. He wraps his arm around her waist,”You deserve the best,” He nuzzles his nose against her cheek, making her beam and rub back. He leans in to whisper in her ear, ”Happy Valentine’s Day to my best girl.”
It’s just a simulation. You hiss internally, urging yourself to turn around or look away. But you want to see what’s going to happen next. You want to see for some unholy reason. You want to face it. Just a simulation…
“Hey, Dick?” Zatanna asks softly when they break apart form another kiss. Dick responds by attentively staring at her, in the same way he listens when you speak, and Zatanna gently places her hands on his chest, ”I know that you’re… used to celebrating with… with Y/N, but I want you to know that it’s okay for you to miss her.”
Your chest aches uncomfortably at the sound of your own name, pulsing, and bleeding inside your chest. It’s starting to hurt to breathe. What hurts more is Dick’s reaction.
He scoffs, shaking his head.”I don’t love her Zatanna. I never did.” He lays his hand on her arm as your heart and eyes sting, ”I love you.”
The scene fades to black just as tears begin to force their way to the top, building, and building beneath your irises until you are left alone in the dark once more. The ball in your throat has grown so thick you can’t even breath. Your heart is trapped inside your ribcage, desperately scratching at your ribs in order to escape the needles and knives driving into your skin from within. It cracks before it can succeed, then promptly shatters when you hear his voice again. I never loved her.
After a few moments of waiting, a spark of hopelessness lights inside your chest, ”Guys?”
No one responds. You try a second time. A resounding BOOM shakes the training room, and light floods over your back. The door had flown off its hinges and skidded across the rubber flooring. Dick stands in the center of the doorway, creating a long shadow that stretches all the way to you.
“Oh, baby.” He sighs.
_
“Tim’s working out the kinks,” Dick says softly, and you hear the fabric of his shirt hit the floor, ”Apparently you had it on ultra hard mode.”
“Yea—Yeah, I figured.” You responded shakily.
Dick’s hand carefully, cautiously, sweetly layers over your hip as he slips into bed beside you. His skin is hot with nervousness and his touch is pure passion and compassion combined. Dick aches with yearning, his only wish being holding you tight and curing your woes. He could have taken a guess in regards to what your worst fear would be; something involving him, but when this thought surfaced he always imagined that meant his death. He tried not to consider this too much for obvious reasons. But now understanding, knowing a part of you that has created a fissure from the surface of your personality all the way down to your foundation, he feels closer to you than ever. You most definitely need that closeness.
His lips form a pattern on your shoulder blade, persistent in their method of curing and comforting you. Dick tries to smile against your skin, the way he knows you like, but your muscles are still taut with confliction and flashbacks. He finds his lips wandering from its origin, up your neck, and to your ear, and then widely expanding to your upper arm, elbow, and wrist. You’re smiling lightly by the time he reaches your hand and wraps his long fingers through yours, but Dick knows that his goal hasn’t been reached. The smile does not shine in your eyes.
Dick dips beneath your arm, and you twist so that you’re eye to eye. He considers himself, he considers the words, feeling their weight on his tongue and in the back of his throat. Instead, he says nothing. He translates the words with his kiss, lips planted against yours, deepening only when he’s about to pull away. Dick sighs through his nose when your fingers rise to run down his jaw, his eyelashes fluttering with the affection.
You stare at him, the steadiness of your gaze enduring the combat it faces against’s Dicks, molding and melting fluidly together in a dance of close bodies and closer hearts. And still, he says nothing. He says nothing when he lays his ear against your heart, when he wraps his arms around your waist, when the bed dips with the weight of his adoration and endless unvoiced apologies.
He says nothing, but you feel him mouth it against your heart. You thread your fingers through his hair and say nothing. But you both know.