Hey people of the internet!
So I'm sorta new here and stuff... so here's my first fic. Hope you enjoy it :)
I wrote it while ago and I'll be posting some more short little stories later.
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Dick sits huddled on the floor in the corner of his dark room, body trembling. Tears fall down his cheeks, rolling down his chin and dripping into his lap. He still didn't believe it. He couldn't. It can't be possible. One second Damian's fine then… then he's gone. Gone and never coming back. The broken acrobat just couldn't take it anymore. First his parents, then Jason and Bruce. And now… Damian... His baby brother. People die because of him, because he isn't good enough to save them. He isn't fast enough. He isn't strong enough. What good is he anyway? He can't even protect the people closest to him. He grips the handle of the blade tighter until his knuckles turn white. It would be so simple… just to end all the pain. One simple movement and all this suffering would be replaced with freedom. Slowly, he places the tip of his knife over his heart, hand trembling greatly. One simple motion… Dick shuts his eyes, tears still manage to slip out. The muscles in his arm tense, preparing to push the blade in but something stops him. A voice. A soft, familiar voice.
"Grayson…"
His eyes open wide. Even through the tears he can plainly see the person standing in front of him. He looks so pale… but he's still there.
"Damian.." he speaks his younger brother's name, his voice trembling and weak. Dick watches as his dead baby brother kneels down in front of him, looking at him with a serious expression on his pale features. His small hand reaches out and gently brushes over Dick's hand which held the blade. A small sensation of chills travels up his arm, causing the hairs to stand on end. Slowly, Dick lowers the knife, eyes remaining fixed on the boy in front of him. A smile ghosts over Damian's lips.
There was a loud crash as the door to Dick's room is kicked open. He turned his head to see an angry Jason rush in, followed by a concerned looking Tim. At the sight of the knife still held limply in his hand, the older of the two clenches his fists.
"What the hell are you thinking, Dick!?"
Dick doesn't hear him, or he just wasn't listening as he looks away from his two living brothers to the spot where Damian had been. That's when he notices he was gone.
"No…" He whispers softly, gave falling to the floor where the knife was now laying. There was something different about it, catching his eye as the a shimmer of light shines across it. Engraved on the weapon was one simple word. Live.