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Bruce often had nightmares. It was just part of the job. They were always bad but nothing like this. The people he considered family often starred in those nightmares. He had flashbacks from his training, his parents’ death. Always horrific things. Gotham had given him plenty of material too, but this one was new and reached new levels of horrible and cruel.
He shouldn’t have been surprised. It was a matter of time really, with how much time he spent with his partner. Bruce should have been prepared and yet when it happened, he was left screaming and hopeless, unable to stop it.
Daniel died in his nightmare. A truly horrific death. All that money, all that prestige of his name, his expensive one of kind gadgets and prototypes, all his skills, and he still couldn’t have saved him.
He fought against his constraints but they only tightened around him. He screamed in frustration. He had to get to him. To his defenseless and unmoving body. His Dani. He had to get to him.
The tears came next, or maybe they had already been there, falling down his face, his cheeks. His face was wet with them, his voice raw, the screams breaking.
“Bruce, please. Please, wake up. Bruce, you’re alright. You’re with me. Please wake up,” Daniel’s voice spoke. But it couldn’t be. He laid there, so close yet out of reach. In a pool of his own blood and dead.
Bruce was going mad.
“Bruce, you need to wake up. You’re safe. Please, just wake up already,” his voice pleaded. Bruce hated to hear him like that.
But he wasn’t asleep. He was fighting, they had been. They had guns. How he loathed guns. They had shot Daniel while Bruce had been restrained.
He felt a painful pinch on his arm and looked down. He wasn’t bound anymore. He looked up, confused, blinked through the tears. Sudden darkness enveloped him, not too different from the Gotham night where Daniel...
Daniel stood above him, on their bed, worried and frowning, eyes glistening and reflecting the dim light of their bedside lamp. Bruce became aware of his sore throat, his ragged breath and his damp shirt.
A nightmare. It had all been a nightmare. As clarity returned to his eyes, Daniel let out a breath, relief washed over him and Bruce, he couldn’t stop staring.
Daniel was there. Alive. Uninjured. He was alright. Just a nightmare.
As if in a trance, Bruce lifted his hand and placed it on Daniel’s cheek. Nothing happened. He didn’t disappear. The skin felt warm against his clammy hand.
“Yeah, this is real. The nightmares are just an illusion. I’m really here,” Daniel said in a whisper, closed his eyes. He put his hand over Bruce’s one, still on his cheek, and brought their foreheads together.
Bruce worked on his breathing, calming down. But he needed to feel him. All of him. He embraced Daniel, pulled him forward so their bodies would meet and merge. Daniel went willingly, strong arms circling Bruce’s back. “I’m here. This is real,” he repeated.
“You’re alright,” Bruce mumbled into his dark curls.
Daniel rubbed his back, then carded a hand through his hair. “I’m alright.”
They were alright.