Work Text:
If you asked Dick Grayson if he ever felt lonely, he wouldn't know what to say. Because he roamed the halls of his small apartment for hours, Staring at the paintings hung on the wall and at the grade cards held on the refrigerator door by a white cat magnet. He assumed, in conclusion, yes. He did feel lonely. But he wouldn't use that word to describe the loneliness he felt. Not when green eyes and childish laughter filled his dreams, but dreams never lasted. And at the end of the day, even they had to go.
Waking up, Dick stared up at the blank ceiling above him, reaching over to the other side of his bed, his fingertips brushing against Damian's soft hair as the boy slept soundly next to him, too scared to sleep alone in his bed and afraid of the shadows that crept around the walls. Blue eyes slowly blinked, and Dick looked over to find his hand against an empty spot where Damian would have been. But Damian wasn't here. Damian passed away three weeks ago, and the unfilled side of Dick's bed, where his baby boy would sleep wrapped in Dick's protective embrace, would never be warm again. If Dick closed his eyes, he could imagine Damian fast asleep next to him. But Dick didn't close his eyes. He tore his gaze from the bed and sat up. Sometimes he stayed up night after night, afraid of falling asleep because when he closed his eyes, he dreamed of Damian holding his hand as the boy led Dick through a field of blue Irises. Damian was always dressed in a long white robe and barefoot in Dick's recurring dream. And at the end, Damian would whisper something into Dick's ear, sounding like a gentle breeze blowing past Dick, and when he'd look over, Damian was gone. The first few times Dick had these dreams, he'd wake up crying, but now the pain has morphed into a feeling like someone is choking him while he holds back his tears. Hunching over, Dick buried his face into his hands, biting his lip to stop the sorrowful cry that escaped his lips even against his attempts. Wiping away stray tears, Dick shakily inhaled as he pulled himself out of his bed, refusing to look at the empty spot behind him as he turned off his alarm before it could go off and left the room to head to the bathroom.
Hitting the light switch, Dick walked into the bathroom. Catching a glimpse of Damian's small green bathrobe, Dick screwed his eyes shut and turned his back to the bathrobe. Placing his hands against the sink counter as he breathed in, trying to calm his beating heart. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, thump, thump, thump. "Please..." Dick begged, his head hanging low as his fingers gripped the fabric of his blue sweatshirt, "Please-" "Baba?" Snapping his eyes open, Dick turned around as his heart skipped a beat, his eyes watering as he turned to the open doorway, hearing the voice he cried for, but he found the bathroom doorway empty. A sharp cry ripped from Dick's lips as tears rolled down his cheeks, "Damian..." he sobbed, burying his face into his hands as his shoulders shook with each gasp of air he took.
___
||THREE WEEKS AGO||
When Damian died, Dick never thought he'd be able to live. "To keep chugging along," Jason liked to put it. And Dick still thinks he's unable to live without his kid, his son. Dick was so afraid that Damian would get hurt on the field during patrols and missions that he turned a blind eye to the dark world outside. Dick forgot how many dangers lay behind the haven of his home. There were some things not even Nightwing could control. He was only human, unable to stop them and too stubborn to accept that he couldn't. For weeks after Damian's passing, Dick blamed himself, and he still does, saying he should have been there. He should have risked being late to work to drop Damian off at school. But nothing could have prepared him for the call he got right as he walked into the police station. With a coffee in hand, Dick pulled out his phone and answered, "Hello?"
"Is this Dick Grayson?"
"Yes, is something wrong?"
Staring at the white wall in front of him, Dick felt like his world came crashing down when he heard the woman speak, "I... I'm Damian's teacher- He- A car hit him." The walls felt like they were closing in on Dick as everything slowed down. His grasp on the coffee slipped, and the cup fell onto the marble floor below his feet, the coffee flying everywhere as it seeped under his shoes. "O-Oh god," Dick cried, bringing his hand to cover his mouth, thinking he was going to be sick as he stumbled back. He didn't even register his co-workers running to aid him when they heard a crash and found him on his knees crying.
Dick knew what losing a loved one was like. Los has been a part of his life, and it was something he couldn't control, no matter how hard he tried. Dick lost his parents and lost Jason once. He lost Bruce once. But nothing can prepare you when you lose a child, especially your child. When he arrived at the hospital, Colin Wilkes, Damian's friend, told him the story since he was there when it happened. They sat in silence, waiting for the news from the doctors. Damian had to go into surgery, his heart was failing, and the doctors admitted that they weren't sure they could save him. Colin nervously rubbed his hands together, his blue eyes watching Dick's hands tremble as the man clasped them together, "There was a cat..." Colin started, closing his eyes as he breathed in, "It was in the street, and Damian saw it in danger with all the cars going by... I told him not to go- but- but he did anyway. He ran through the cars a-and when he got to the cat-" A quiet, muffled sob filled the waiting room, and Colin turned his face away from Dick as Dick cried into his hands. "The driver was texting on their phone... They didn't see him..." Colin finished. He rubbed his arms, feeling tears prickle at the edge of his eyes, and he hurried to wipe them away. "I'm sorry," Colin apologized, not knowing what else to say as he listened to the man sob next to him.
Deep down, Dick knew Damian wasn't going to make it. And when he saw the doctor, he knew what was coming, even if he wanted to believe otherwise. Colin stayed sitting when Dick stood up to meet the doctor, keeping his eyes down as he listened to Dick and the doctor talk, "I'm sorry..." the doctor spoke. Dick felt numb inside as he slowly nodded, not caring enough to wipe away the tears rolling down his red cheeks, "We tried everything we could."
"I-I understand," Dick choked out.
The funeral tore everyone apart. No one hardly saw Jason, but it wasn't a surprise when he arrived, dressed in black, he stood behind Dick, next to Bruce and Selina. Out of everyone besides Dick, Alfred took it the hardest. The man raised Damian with Bruce for a big chunk of his life until Damian moved in with Dick. The funeral didn't last long, but to Dick, it felt like an eternity until Damian's casket was lowered into the ground, covered in Lilies, and he watched the dirt cover the casket until he was looking at nothing but the dirt below. "My dear boy..." Alfred cried, pulling Dick into a hug. "I am so sorry," Alfred mumbled, caressing the back of Dick's head with his hand as Dick buried his face into Alfred's shoulder, allowing himself to break as he wept. Colin and the Kents were there. Damian's brothers and sisters came back to Gotham to be there. Even Talia showed up.
But when it all ended, no matter how much Dick wanted to be alone, he didn't want to return to his apartment. Afraid of seeing the memories of his baby bat, his Robin. So he stayed with Jason, lying depressed on the man's couch with a blanket over him for a week before Jason finally sat him down at his little lonesome kitchen table for two. "Dick... You can't live like this," Jason frowned, his scarred fingers wrapped around the red mug full of tea in front of him, "It's not healthy."
"I-I don't know what to do, Jay," Dick sobbed, burying his face into his waiting palms as his eyes stung with fresh tears, "I miss him so much."
Jason stayed quiet. He was never much of a therapist. That was Dick's place in the family, "I know..."
___
||PRESENT DAY||
Standing in his kitchen, Dick was moving around the kitchen, grabbing the spatula and flipping the eggs. When Jason was depressed, he said he liked to cook and bake. It gave him something to do, to get his mind off what was depressing him. Dick decided to try it, knowing he couldn't starve himself just because he was sad. After he finished frying the potatoes, he sprinkled some salt on them and set the salt shaker down, setting the spatula on the counter and opening the cabinet above the counter. Pulling the door open, Dick grabbed two bowls and sat them on the counter, scraping the potatoes into each bowl, then set an egg on top. He added a slice of cheese to both meals before grabbing his bowl. Reaching for the other one, Dick stopped. His fingers twitched as he stared at the bowl on the counter made for Damian. Dicksuddenly lost his appetite, setting his bowl down and turning off the stove. Dick felt a wave of depression hit him as he stood in the middle of the kitchen, his shoulders drooping with his head hung low. "Baba?" a voice echoed, and Dick chewed on his bottom lip as he slowly turned around, staring at the empty barstool where Damian would sit when he got home from school, finishing his homework while he waited for Dick to get home from work. "You're not here..." Dick frowned, the reality of Damian's death crashing down on him.
He made up his mind when he got dressed, pulling his blue jacket over his white T-shirt. He left his apartment, not bothering to say anything to the woman at the front desk. With his hands shoved in his coat pockets, Dick walked down the busy Budhaven street, listening to cars go by and people on the phone. Eventually, he found himself pushing open the metal gate of Bludhaven's cemetery, hesitating for a few moments before stepping through. Dick knew Bruce wanted Damian buried in Gotham, behind the Manor, next to his grandparents. But Gotham wasn't Damian's home. It's never been. Bludhaven never hesitated to welcome Damian with open arms. It was a place Damian felt safe, where he could let down his shields. Bruce knew he would never win that battle with Dick, just like Bruce knew he wouldn't win when Dick told him Damian was going to Bludhaven with him and Dick was going to raise him. Dick was sure that walking to Damian's grave and seeing it would break him even more, but as Dick stood in front of the headstone under the perfectly trimmed willow tree. Dick felt like he could breathe again. A pained smile pulled at Dick's cheeks as he sat in front of Damian's grave, running his fingertips against the words engraved into the stone, "Damian Grayson," Dick whispered, "Cherished brother and loved son," Dick finished as he wiped away the tears that pooled at the edge of his eyes. "You have no idea how much I miss you," Dick frowned, "Sometimes I think I still hear your voice..."
Dick knew he would never fully heal, and his wounds caused by Damian's passing would not close all the way. Dick didn't expect them to, and he wasn't sure he even wanted them to. But Dick knew no matter how much time passed by. He'd never stop missing Damian. Standing under the willow tree, Dick allowed his tears to fall. He stared at the clear blue sky, "Look after him, mom, dad," Dick swallowed as his bottom lip trembled, "Take care of my boy," Dick pleaded, setting a white Madonna Lily in front of Damian's grave. Turning away, Dick wiped away his tears as he walked away from Damian's resting place. The loss in his life was something Dick Grayson knew far too well. Dick never fully recovered from the loss of his parents, and he would never recover from Damian's death. He knew Damian would forever hold it against him if Dick didn't move forward, so no matter how painful life got or how difficult it would become, Dick would never stop moving forward.
Dick would continue for Damian, his little boy. For his Robin.