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Dick pressed his back against the plaster and tile of his bathroom. His apartment in Bludhaven was never the best thing in the world but it was functional and that had always been enough. He wanted to say that he was fine. He was fine. He knew that. He knew that he was okay. After all the years of crime fighting he kept under his belt there were worse things than this. He didn’t even have a bad night all things considered. He was bruised and had some scrapes on his body but it wasn’t anything that was too bad. It wasn’t like he’d been hit with any kind of toxin or poison. It wasn’t like he was shot or had some sort of major injury that was actively putting his life on the line. He was tense and he was stressed and exhausted but that wasn’t anything new.
All the times he’d led team missions. All the times he’d fought through days in a row without real sleep. All the times he was leading Bludhaven as Nightwing and Gotham as Batman. There was so much worse in the world than just being tired. There were too many people who never had the chance to be tired again if he didn’t do his job the right way. There were so many people suffering and people who needed a hero to be there for them and where was he?
Sitting on the floor of his bathroom and counting the beats of his heart against the throbbing pulse of his head.
How pathetic.
He was the first Robin. He was the youngest hero. He was the one that took on the Justice league as a child and held his ground. He was the one his brothers all looked to. He was the reason Robin was called Batman’s light. He was a founder of Young Justice. He was a founder of the Titans. It all came back to him and while normally Dick could handle it and take it all on with pride, tonight it just felt different.
It felt like nothing he did was enough.
It felt like the walls were collapsing down around him.
He shivered even though it wasn’t cold. He was soaked in sweat and grime and blood and even though he knew he needed to get showered and changed and go to bed or eat something he wasn’t sure he could find the will inside him. Everything about him was meant to be the will he had. Everything in his persona he’d built over the years had been the strength he kept. He wanted to be the strong person everyone thought he should be. He wanted to be good enough to match what was needed.
But every time his phone rang it drove the spike in his brain ever deeper. Every time there was a knock on his door or he heard someone shout his name it made him want to scream. He needed a break for himself even though it was selfish and he’d done nothing to deserve it. He wanted to scream, cry, do something that would make him feel like a person again.
A hero didn’t do that. A hero was there for others, not themselves.
Dick wasn’t even sure he knew what his own skin felt like anymore. If it was the coarse fabric of his suit or if it was the stretched cotton of his pj’s. He would stand in the shower and scrub at himself until his skin was raw and his cuts were bleeding fresh red blood. He would apply bandages and feel the adhesive of them for days no matter how much it was cleaned from his body. He wanted to run and shout and disappear. If he could put the world on pause he would.
He should call for help. He should have someone else to work beside him and help him manage the work load. That was what he would tell all the others who he led over the years. It was what he would teach to the new heroes who were just starting out and needed to know how to stay alive in a world like this.
Every time he thought about calling for help he thought about the last time he saw Bruce. He thought about the sharp look in his eyes and the anger in their voices. He thought about the shouts that echoed through the walls of the cave and how it had driven pain through his chest to stand there and face the man who’d acted like his father for so many years of his life.
He loved Bruce, he really did, but there were times where the two of them together was a terrible choice. There were times where they would fight and every call they would try to make would be questioned and denied. They wouldn’t agree on the best way to take things down. How to track their crimes, how to restrain criminals, when to call for the police. They were called the dynamic duo and they were the ones who set everything but they couldn’t stand each other on some nights.
Bruce had a special way of arguing with people that made them feel like they were at fault for everything going wrong. It was the way he would speak, the way he would argue and what he would point out. It was never wrapped in comforts and Dick knew that was for a reason. He knew that everything Bruce did was for them to stay alive and he would never try to hurt them. Dick just couldn’t shake the words when they were rattling around his head. He couldn’t ignore them and he couldn’t move on when he tried to prove himself right and the world showed him just how wrong he was. The world would prove Bruce to be right even despite all the countless times he could point to prove that he was right. He knew that compassion was the better way to do it. That laughter and jokes and being a hero in the light despite the darkness they worked in. He knew the work he was doing was important and he knew that Bruce was right in his own way.
Batman couldn’t do the things Nightwing did. Batman was always going to be the hero that made his way in the shadows. He was always going to be the one that stayed in the dark and even though his heart was good and strong and Bruce was one of the best men he’d ever known. Nightwing would never compare. Nightwing was never going to be the one that could fight like that. In the eyes of the world there was never going to be another person like Batman.
It didn’t matter that Dick had worn that cowl and no one had noticed. It didn’t matter that he had endured so much pretending to be Batman that he’d almost lost sight of himself when looking in the mirror.
He was Nightwing again.
He was alone again.
He didn’t have a Robin sitting at his side and he didn’t have a cowl and cape weight to drag him down on his balance. he was free to move the way he’d moved all the other times before and he was fine with that. He was happy with that. He wanted that.
To be himself. To stop pretending.
Dick wasn’t sure anymore what part of him was pretend. He wasn’t sure how to feel anymore. He wasn’t sure how he needed to think or how he needed to feel. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do when the world felt like it was falling down around him.
His head hurt. His body ached. he was fine. Dick knew he was fine. He wasn’t sure if he felt fine.
The cold of the wall was comforting. the lights were off. They were too bright for him to deal with right now. Even then Dick kept his eyes closed against the dim glow of his hall light through the crack in the door. He tried to keep his breathing even. To imagine the darkness of his room in the manor instead of the neon lights that were trying to force their way to the front of his mind from the light beyond his eyelids. His throat burned. Screams and yells from the nightmares that haunted him in the few rare moments he was able to sleep. He didn’t want to deal with this anymore. He couldn’t deal with this anymore. It was going to make him scream. It was going to make him lose it. He was losing his mind. He was hungry. He needed to sleep. He couldn’t sleep. He wanted to cry.
He was pathetic.
A sob tore its way through his chest despite himself. Dick couldn’t hold it back no matter how much he wished he could. The moment it happened he wanted to scold himself. He wanted to reach from another body and shake himself by the shoulders until he snapped out of it. He wanted it to be better. He needed to be better. He couldn’t be better.
Dick slid further against the wall. He let his body tip and drag until his shoulder pressed into the cold tile of the floor and his face followed suit. The heat of his face and the tears that built behind his eyes found comfort against the cool ground.
He let the tears fall.
His secret between him and the floor. His secret that wasn’t going to get out. His secret that was going to stay hidden for forever. He wasn’t going to tell anyone. No one needed to know. No one needed to know he was breaking on his bathroom floor because he was useless. He was pathetic, weak, a coward, a failure. Everything he was meant to be and this was what the truth was?
Bludhaven barely tolerated him to begin with. They would laugh if they saw what he was now. The rogues he’d fought as a child would mock him. He could even imagine his younger self standing in front of him and berating him for what he was doing. if a child could handle this work and what needed to be done then why couldn’t an adult. He could imagine the edges of the Robin uniform as he stared back to himself. He could imagine the anger on his own young face. He could imagine his voice drilling into his head.
That he should listen to Batman.
That he should know he wasn’t good enough on his own.
That he should have never left the cave.
That Bruce was right all those years ago to fire him.
He didn’t deserve to be a hero. He couldn’t save anyone. He’d never saved anyone. He couldn’t even save himself. A rooftop in the rain. That night forced its way to the front of his mind and Dick saw the light change. He brought his hands up to cover his ears. He needed to block the memories. He needed to calm himself down. The hammering of his own heart was so loud he could barely think.
He wanted to scream but if he did his neighbors would hear him.
He shuddered.
He sobbed.
A hand reached his shoulder.
Dick flinched before he could think about it. His eyes flew open and he looked up to who was in his apartment. They would have found him in uniform. He was going to have to fight. He could die. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t—
“Bruce?”
His voice scratched on the way out. It wasn’t Batman in front of him. It wasn’t the Dark Knight there to collect one of his charges after hearing how badly he’d failed. It was the man who had taken him in and raised him when no one else would. It was the man who he’d clung to so many nights as a boy after nightmares left him shaking and crying until he couldn’t breathe.
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
He said it thoughtlessly even when Bruce looked him up and down and Dick knew his words weren’t believed. He tried to take a breath. To wipe away the tears and red from his face even though Bruce already knew.
“What are you doing here?”
He wasn’t in uniform so it wasn’t for work. Today wasn’t anything important that he could think of so it wasn’t like he hadn’t shown up for an event he forgot about. He let Bruce feel over his body and check on him. He didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. He barely even breathed.
Still, Dick let Bruce guide him to sit up. He let him feel around his head and check his eyes for responsiveness. He let him press fingers against the side of his neck to count his pulse.
“I told you I’m fine.”
Bruce frowned even as he leaned back.
Dick glared back.
“You going to tell me why you’re here?”
If he was here to fight. if he was here for something else. Dick wasn’t sure what the worse option was going to be. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with himself. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. If he wanted to continue his argument with Bruce. If he wanted to tell him off to his face. If he wanted to tell him to leave.
But it felt nice to be touched and know he wasn’t going to be hurt.
“After you tell me what’s going on.”
Dick huffed and rolled his eyes despite the pain it caused him.
“Nothing’s going on.”
“You are on your floor crying. Now—”
“That’s none of your business.”
“You’re always my business.”
His anger flicked back to life in his chest.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Bruce,” he seethed, “but I’m not one of your wind up soldiers.”
“No.” The word was hard. Bruce didn’t look away from his eyes. “Is it so hard for you to understand why I’m here?”
His teeth ground against each other hard enough to hurt his jaw. Bruce sighed. He looked away and when Dick saw him at this angle he looked so defeated it was unnatural for someone who had always been so strong.
“Damian told me something seemed wrong.”
At the sound of his Robin, Dick felt his heart tick up. He wanted to ask about the kid. To know how he was doing and if school was going well. He wanted to be there with him. Separating from him had been one of the hardest things he’d done in his life but Bruce was his father and he was the Batman Damian needed to learn from.
“I…” Bruce wouldn’t meet his eyes, “I didn’t believe him. Your work as Nightwing has been extraordinary. You’ve shown no signs of anything being wrong as far as I could tell.”
The greatest detective in the world but his Robin had noticed something he hadn’t.
“So why did Dami send you here?”
“You didn’t answer the phone.”
He wasn’t even sure where his phone was. If he’d left it here when he left for patrol or if it was dropped when he scrambled to pry pieces of himself off on his way to the bathroom. If it was on him and he’d just been too numb to feel it ring.
“I came to check on you because he insisted. I didn’t expect—”
They both knew what he’d walked in on.
“Are you alright?”
Dick shrugged.
“I’m fine.”
“Dick—”
“Leave it alone, Bruce.”
“Let me help.”
“Why should I?” The words were out before he could stop himself. “Why? So you can tell me I’m wrong on everything I’m doing again? So you can tell me how I’m not good enough? How after everything that’s happened I still am a failure in your eyes? How I can’t save anyone? So you can tell me how weak I am that a good night in Gotham still has me feeling so tired I get dizzy when I stand? So you can tell me how pathetic I am that I can’t even sleep because the nightmares keep me screaming myself awake? So you can—”
His face was pressed into a shoulder before he could continue. Bruce’s arms wrapped around him with the same safety and security they had always held when he was a child. One hand cupping the back of his head and holding him steady against him and god he’d forgotten how warm Bruce was.
He’d forgotten how much he missed this.
Fresh tears welled in his eyes before Dick could stop them. He buried himself against Bruce all the same. He nuzzled himself into his shoulder and neck and in seconds Dick was reaching up and clinging back into him like he’d done as a boy. He felt Bruce’s grip grow tighter around him.
“I’m sorry.”
His voice was low. Dick sucked in half a breath at the sound of the admittance.
“I’m sorry you would ever think that about yourself.”
All of their fights that had been spinning through his thoughts the entire night were nowhere to be found like this.
“I’m not a perfect man. I know. I know I’m hard on you. I—” He cut himself off. “There’s no excuse.”
Dick balled Bruce’s shirt into his hands where he clung at his back.
“You are not weak. You are not pathetic. You are everything a hero should be, Dick. Nightwing— You, are enough.”
He shook his head but Bruce’s fingers carded through his hair and put an end to the motion.
“You are. There is nothing you have done that makes you a failure to me. I need you to know that.”
“Bruce—”
“I need you to know that. And I need you to know that when you are hurting you are not alone. You’ve told me that so many times I’ve lost count.”
“You don’t listen.”
“No, but you should.”
“Robin follows Batman.”
He tried to make it a joke but tears choked the humor out of the words. He followed Bruce. Even now, as an adult, he ran to Bruce. He followed his steps and he tried to be like him. When he was scared he still wished for Batman to be there and save him. When he was lonely on patrol he still looked to his side on instinct and waited for the shadow to move.
It didn’t anymore.
He missed it.
“Your Robin still follows you.”
Dick’s heart cracked.
“Let me help you. Let me take care of you.”
“I’m sorry.”
He felt Bruce’s breath more than he heard it.
“This wasn’t your fault.” Bruce ran a hand up and down his back. “I should have never said what I did to you. I should have told you that the moment the fight ended. I should have made sure you knew I didn’t think that about you.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not.”
He heard something that sounded like fear in Bruce’s voice.
“I checked the tracker in your suit. I knew you were home.”
That had been a fight as well. Trackers that Bruce wanted all of them to wear in their suits so he could monitor them even though they weren’t staying in the cave and they weren’t technically considered to be one of his charges anymore. Dick remembered how hard he and Jason had fought against it. The only reason they let Bruce have his way was to stop the fighting for their younger brothers. They could see the technical necessity of it. They’d made Bruce promise not to use the trackers unless it was necessary. They’d known there that night that the promise wasn’t going to be upheld.
“I knocked but there was no answer. Damian told me you didn’t answer your phone, I called you too.”
“Hope I’ve got a good voicemail to listen to.”
“Your phone wouldn’t even connect.”
He didn’t have anything to say to that.
“I let myself in.”
He picked the lock.
“I found you laying on your floor in uniform and crying. I didn’t bring antidotes. I thought—”
“I’m not compromised.”
“Not by a toxin. By me.”
“Bruce—”
“I’m so sorry, Chum.”
The old nickname stole the breath from his lungs. In that second all the memories of the fights and tensions they held for each other were replaced with the memories of laughter and bonding they had over the years. He remembered laughing on Bruce’s arm at galas. All the times they would sit on a couch and watch a football game eating chips because Bruce couldn’t find anything else he was willing to eat as a boy. All the times they would train and he would try to show Bruce tricks on the trapeze he installed for him. All the nights they would spend sleeping side by side to chase their nightmares away.
Fresh tears sprung to his eyes but this time Dick didn’t fight them. He pressed his face down into Bruce’s shoulder again and squeezed him through their hug.
“I missed you Dad.”
He didn’t expect an answer. He didn’t expect anything.
“I missed you too.”
Dick smiled.
That was more than fine. And this time he felt it.