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Dick could hear EVERYTHING.
But… He couldn’t move his limbs, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t open his eyes, he couldn’t even control his own breathing. For a person made of constant motion like Dick, having his body turn into a prison was a nightmare.
It was hell, he was in hell.
He wasn’t really sure what happened. He remembered being on the rooftop with Batman and the Commissioner, Nightwing made some joke about the napkin man and then everything went black.
I was unclear how long it took for Dick to become aware of the world again but the first thing he heard when he came to his senses, in a body that wouldn’t obey him, was Bruce screaming.
Bruce didn’t scream, not unless all shit had hit the fan already.
Bruce was yelling like a maniac at some poor person that Dick assumed was a doctor, because where else could he be if not a hospital? With the incessant beeping of the heart monitor, the antiseptic smell, the feeling of the IV jabbed in his arm, and whatever tube was keeping him breathing.
The guy said something about having to give something time to heal, it was probably bad news because Bruce, good old impatient Bruce, was shouting about incompetence and threatening to get another doctor, a better neurologist, the best one money could buy. Of course Bruce would try to throw money at a problem when all else failed, when he didn’t have all the answers.
God, Bruce really hated not having all the answers. That’s why Dick knew he was in trouble.
The yelling faded as Bruce and the doctor walked away, still arguing. Dick heard someone else sniffle and felt a hand caress his.
“Everything will be alright. Master Bruce will fix this.” A voice to his right spoke. Alfred, definitely Alfred, but he sounded so very tired that it almost made Dick’s heart ache in sympathy.
“What if he can’t? What if Dick… What if never wakes up?” Barbara. That was Barbara sniffling between her words, tears making her voice wobble.
“He’ll be fine. He got shot in the head and lived. He’s tough.” Tim. He sounded as tired as Alfred and seemed to be right next to Barbara.
“-tt-.” Came a familiar little scoff in the corner before the owner stood up and marched out with brisk footsteps.
Well, at least one question was answered- Dick was shot, that was why he was stuck on that bed, aware of everything and unable to communicate. He wanted so desperately to make himself known, to comfort his loved ones, it hurt that he couldn’t, it hurt like… Well, like a bullet to the head.
Eventually everyone left and Dick was left in silence with only the infuriating heart monitor beeping right next to him. He wished he could call everyone back, he needed the distraction, needed to hear more than just beeping and the occasional squeak of a nurse’s shoes when someone checked on him.
It was driving him so crazy that he thought he dreamt what happened that night (or was it another night? His concept of time was a bit finicky).
It was dark, that distinct red blur behind his lids that indicated light was all gone, giving the impression that it was nighttime; the window slid open with the tiniest click, Dick could feel the breeze on his skin and felt the weight of someone perching at the end of his bed.
“You cannot do this to us.” Damian, it was Damian and he sounded both angry and wrecked. “You have to wake up.”
Dick wished he could, he really did, nothing would make him happier than opening his eyes at that moment but his body betrayed him and remained a shell. He heard a shuddery intake of breath, a sniffle and then Damian spoke again.
“Father is going insane without you. You promised you would never leave again, you swore!” Damian was trying so hard to sound angry but Dick saw (heard) right through the act, there were tears in those words. “You have to wake up, do you hear me? Wake up!”
Dick wanted to scream, in his head he did scream, desperate to obey, to let Damian know he was listening, but nothing worked and when the squeaky footsteps started to sound again in the corridor, he heard the rustle of a cape as Damian made a hasty and quiet retreat, the window snapping shut just a second before the nurse came, opened the door, paused, and then closed it again.
Visitors came and went. Even Jason popped up once in a while with snide sarcastic remarks (many about death) to hide his concern. Dick wished he could laugh at those comments, he really did, but as usual he couldn’t even twitch.
Someone brought flowers, he thought maybe it was Steph or Babs, he could smell them somewhere nearby.
Cassandra came by too, she said nothing but held his hand and he recognized her quiet touch right away. Dick wanted to squeeze her hand back, hoped she could read his body like she always did, but even Cass couldn’t read someone so still.
Despite the visitors, there was no Bruce since that one explosive confrontation. It hurt a little, to know that Bruce wasn’t visiting, that he was probably more concerned with Batman than he was with him. Dick had thought they were finally rekindling their relationship, finally ready to commit again after the disaster with Selina, he dared to believe there was love between them but now… Now he wished he wasn’t aware of anything at all, he just wanted to forget, to wake up as a different man with a clean slate and no feelings that could hurt him so.
A new doctor arrived, a woman with a calming voice, so calming that it creeped him out a little.
He felt himself transported somewhere with bright lights and multiple people talking in low voices about medical jargon that Dick could have understood if he bothered to focus. But then his senses dulled and for a while he was blissfully asleep, dreamless and unaware of his prison, of his hellish predicament.
Dick ‘woke up’ feeling so confused and startled that he wanted to scream but his body still refused to obey, his eyes still refused to open. Whatever surgery had been done on him it hadn’t worked. Dick hadn’t realized he was so hopeful until that moment when his hopes shattered.
Honestly, he just wished they’d turn off the machines and let him go. He wanted that escape, hated the countless hours alone, silent and still in his shell, just wanted to let go.
Not long after that realization someone walked into the room- heavy footsteps with a slight limp, there was the grating noise of a chair being dragged across the floor and then there was a hand over his, a strong calloused hand that was so very familiar.
“I don’t know it you can hear me… Or if you’re even there.” Bruce, with serious dour voice. “They tell me you’re not but I can’t bear to believe that.”
«You’re here. You came back. You’re here.» Dick thought, wanting so desperately to talk that the effort almost hurt.
“You’re going to be ok. I’ll make sure of that.” Bruce squeezed Dick’s hand just a little and went silent for a while.
The quiet was unnerving but Bruce was still there, still holding his hand, and that was more precious than any voice. Dick just wanted to know why he took so long to come back, where had been that he couldn’t even visit, he wanted to know if Bruce had found the bastard that did this to him yet, if he had brought the monster to justice. He just wanted answers.
As if reading his mind, Bruce began talking again.
“I went after KGBeast. He was the one who shot you and I went to Russia to confront him.”
Well, that answered one question. Dick could see Bruce hunting down the man who shot him, he just wished he knew what it meant, what Bruce was thinking when he rushed to other side of the world for answers. Better yet, Dick wanted to know how Bruce had felt when Dick fell, bleeding and shot, in his arms.
“I came back with a bullet wound but he was left in a snowstorm in the middle of nowhere with a broken neck.” Bruce’s tone lowered into Batman’s gravelly baritone, dark and frightening. “It’s only the second time in my life that I say this but I hope he’s dead. I couldn’t kill Joker for what he did to Jason but hope I killed him, I hope Knyazev is dead for what he did to you.”
Bruce sounded furious, there so much anger, so much rage, that Dick was almost scared. Not scared of Bruce, of course, but scared of what might happen to him if he let his anger get the best of him and he forgot to think things through.
“I’ll find out who hired him, I’ll make sure they pay too.” Bruce swore, his hand now cupping Dick’s cheek with a gentleness that rivaled the ire in his tone. “I promise.”
Dick didn’t doubt that promise at all, if anyone could catch whoever wanted him dead, it was Batman. But it wasn’t revenge Dick wanted, he was more worried about recovering and not being stuck in this hell forever, and, more than anything, he was worried for Bruce’s soul.
“You’re probably thinking about our code.” Bruce murmured, his thumb caressing across Dick’s cheek. “Well, if you could see yourself as I am right now, you’d understand that the code can be damned to hell.”
Dick wanted to cry from all the pain he heard in Bruce’s voice, all the tenderness in his touch, but he couldn’t even do that; all he could do was lie there and listen to Bruce’s breathing as he settled into the chair and simply stayed, as if hoping that if he waited long enough Dick would wake up.
It became routine for Bruce to show up every afternoon, Dick had no idea who was running Wayne Enterprises at the moment but surely it wasn’t Bruce, he was too busy hunting down villains by night and waiting by Dick’s side by day.
Dick figured out at some point that Bruce was reading all his medical reports and analyzing all his scans, double checking all the work the doctors had done in hopes of finding something they had missed, studying everything in search of a way to wake Dick up. If only he knew that Dick was awake and cognizant… No, that might have been even more painful for everyone.
So Dick struggled to do something, anything, that might have Bruce noticing he was still there. Unfortunately, it all failed.
When Bruce wasn’t obsessively pouring over medical records and arguing with doctors, he would sit and talk. Dick didn’t think he’d ever heard Bruce talk that much at a time before, not with another human anyway.
“I’m close, I know I am. I know the orders came from inside Arkham…” Bruce stated one day before droning on about his investigations.
Dick listened, he could do nothing else, but he no longer cared; all he wanted was to keep hearing Bruce’s voice.
One afternoon Dick heard Bruce talk to the new doctor, the woman with the European accent, in the corridor. He didn’t like what he heard and he doubted Bruce did as well.
He heard Bruce walk into the room and punch something in frustration, probably a wall, before he began pacing back and forth doing… Well, Dick didn’t know what he was doing, all he knew was that it took a long time for Bruce to calm down and come sit on the edge of his bed.
“Doctor Haas says you might have brain damage, she says you might never wake up but if you do she thinks you’ll have severe memory loss.” Bruce sighed, an exhausted and defeated sound.
Dick didn’t know how he felt about that, about waking up and not remembering his family, his friends, Bruce… He didn’t believe he could forget Bruce, but what if he did? What if he woke up a different person? Would Bruce still want him or would he send Dick packing to start a new lonely life elsewhere?
“I don’t care if you do have memory loss, I just want you back. We can make new memories together, I’ll just have to make you love me again, though god knows I have no idea why you ever did in the first place.” Dick would have chuckled if he could but Bruce was serious and sad. “Maybe you’ll even have clean slate and be able to walk away from all the violence.” Bruce paused for so long that Dick thought he was done talking but then he added in a murmur- “Please, just come back to me.”
And, god, he really wanted to. Dick wanted to wrap his arms around Bruce more than he had ever wanted anything in the world. He didn’t want to forget but if that’s what it took to wake up for Bruce, he’d take it.
Several days later, in what Dick was sure was nighttime, he heard the window open again, he felt the breeze and heard the pouring rain before someone slipped silently into his room. Dick wondered if it was someone sent to finish the job or if Damian was back with demands that Dick just wake up already.
“It was me. It was me all along.” Bruce’s voice, broken and agonizing, and Dick felt Batman’s gauntlet land over his hand again. “You weren’t the target, they hurt you to get to me. It’s all my fault.”
Dick could have sworn he was dreaming because he thought he heard Batman actually cry, low sobs tearing through the air as he slumped over the bed, his cape damp from the rain, a welcome feeling for Dick.
“I was a fool. I tried so hard to push you away, but you never gave up on me. Even when Selina left me at the altar you were there to pick up the pieces, you never once gave up on me.” Bruce cried, Dick was sure, he could hear the tears in Batman’s deep growly baritone. “And look where that landed you. All I do is bring pain and fear, I know nothing else in this life.”
Dick desperately wanted to comfort Bruce, wanted to tell him that he was good man and that none of this was his fault, that Nightwing had chosen his way of life freely, they all had. He could feel Bruce’s pain like a physical thing lodged between his ribs, a cold heavy spike slicing right into his heart, he feel the guilt like a rope around his throat, he could feel so much and there was nothing he could do about it.
“Dick…?” Bruce suddenly spoke up, tentatively. “Dick, can you hear me?”
A rough gauntlet caressed his cheek and Dick realized suddenly that he was crying too, the tears slipping unbidden from his closed eyes and rolling down the sides of his face. He begged every god he knew that Bruce might understand his tears, that he might know Dick was still there.
“Dick?” Bruce insisted, wiping those tears away with the rough pads of his gloved fingers. “I know you’re in there. You never gave up on me, I’m not giving up on you.”
Dick felt more tears roll down and struggled to move. He’d take anything- a finger twitching, eyes blinking, a sound from his throat, literally anything to reply to Bruce… But he was so tired that nothing happened, the tears were the only sign of awareness he could conjure up and they weren’t even voluntary.
Batman stayed with him for hours after that, talking and begging forgiveness and simply existing there as a welcome presence. He only left when the noise of nurses and doctors in the corridor started to pick up, it wouldn’t be wise for Batman to found in Dick Grayson’s hospital room.
Dick didn’t expect Bruce to return very soon but he did, he walked in as Bruce Wayne not long after Batman left and in a matter of minutes he was arguing with the doctor again.
“He cried.” Bruce argued, loudly.
“Mr Wayne, that could easily have been an involuntary response. For all we know he might be dreaming and reacting to said dream.” The doctor spoke with infinite patience. “It’s impossible that he was reacting to outside stimulus, there’s just too much damage.”
“He has awareness!”
“Maybe he does, but if he hasn’t woken up yet, perhaps it is time to accept that Richard might never come back.”
“He will wake up.” Bruce stated stubbornly.
The doctor sighed and all Dick heard after that was the door opening and closing before Bruce settled in his usual chair on Dick’s right in silent vigil.
For days Bruce didn’t leave the hospital, not even for Batman business, he was almost always there in the room and Dick took comfort in his quiet breathing.
Alfred came by to beg Bruce to go home, to eat and rest, but he failed when he said that Dick wouldn’t go anywhere while Bruce took care of himself.
Damian appeared one day to tell Bruce he was being irrational and there was work to be done, he argued that Dick wouldn’t want Bruce to waste away in a hospital waiting for nothing and that got him an angry response and an order to go home.
Tim and Barbara came by to help Bruce pour over medical data and research again, trying to find some spark of hope. When they failed to find any, Tim sighed and told Bruce he was needed on patrol; meanwhile, Barbara chose to stay the rest of the night, her fingers tapping on the keys of her laptop in a way that was oddly soothing.
Duke, Cass and Steph visited together. They brought flowers again and Cass tried to convince Bruce to go home as well, she promised to keep vigil over Dick in his place while he rested and Duke volunteered to take a shift too while Steph covered their patrols, but Bruce refused and Duke and the girls left empty handed.
Even Jason popped up, he sat on the end of Dick’s bed and commented on how he was glad his death had been quick, he would have hated ending up like Dick. Bruce ended up yelling at Jason for the remark but the argument didn’t last, it was obvious Jason didn’t know how to cope and Bruce saw right through him. Jason left with the promise that he was still following up on Batman’s investigation.
Bruce had to be exhausted, Dick knew this and every day he fought to wake up, to prove Bruce right, to show that his faith wasn’t misplaced. He was so overwhelmed but it felt like the world was just shy of the tips of his fingers and he convinced himself that he just had to try harder. For Bruce.
“They might be right. You probably can’t hear me…” Bruce mumbled after days by Dick’s side, his whole upper body draped over Dick’s bed as defeat and weariness dripped from his voice. “But I need you, Dick.”
Dick fought so hard to move he thought he’d give himself an aneurysm, he couldn’t stand to hear Bruce sound so defeated, but… He was tired too, tired of holding on, tired of being trapped, he couldn’t fight anymore, not without a push.
“I love you.” Dick heard the words slip from Bruce’s mouth in a murmur but he almost didn’t dare believe he had heard right. But what if he had? He couldn’t miss the chance to acknowledge Bruce’s confession, he just couldn’t.
A single finger twitched in his left hand and Dick felt his eyelids flutter, he even managed a long exhale.
“I love you and I was too stubborn to tell you.” Bruce’s voice was muffled, like he was speaking into his hands or something.
“I…” Dick managed the single letter and felt Bruce snap up immediately. “…lo-ove…” He struggled to get the words out, throat dry and scratchy from disuse, but now that he had started, his body was beginning to react and the corners of his lips quirked into the faintest smile.
“Dick!” Bruce was up in a flash and Dick’s eyes finally fluttered open, wincing against the light and finding a disheveled Bruce Wayne with a wrinkled shirt, dark pits under his eyes, mussed hair and days of unshaven scratchy beard. He’d never looked more handsome to Dick.
Bruce turned off the main light and checked Dick’s pupils and breathing out of habit before he held Dick’s face in his hands and smiled, a real genuine smile, and then he planted a soft kiss to Dick’s bandaged head.
“Do you remember what happened? Do you know where you are? Do you remember me?” Bruce asked, cautiously but hopeful.
Dick chuckled very softly and forced his hand to raise enough to cover Bruce’s while he tried to clear his throat. “I love you too… you big softie…”.