AN:- Hey, I've started up over at AO3 now, but I'm back - till April at least. This is because despite everything - I want to try and save Dick Grayson from the fate DC seems to have planned out for him - after all better safe than sorry eh? So I'm back, till April.
The petition to save Dick Grayson is (remove the spaces): change en-GB/ petitions/ dc-comics-save-di ck-grayson-2
I hope you help out, sign and spread the word. And! March is Dick Grayson Month! Show your support via the information stated on the petition site!
This is just a short one-shot (hence the reason why it's lower than 1000 words) of Dick's journey. It's a short thing about his progression from pre-Robin to pre-Battle of the Cowl. Enjoy!
Cheers,
Eastonia
When Dick was three years old, he had his first nightmare.
Not that he didn't have nightmares before, it's just that he got old enough to remember what happened during them.
It always began in a city – he wasn't quite sure what city, just that it was dark and gloomy – and the circus was there to put on a show.
Then he would be performing. Which by itself was strange, he wasn't big enough to perform yet. Sure, he could train and learn, but to put on a show?
His dad promised that it would be his birthday present when he turned eight.
So in the nightmare, his family would be performing – and then all of a sudden, his parents would be caught up in some wind – flying higher and higher and higher as the shadows around him closed around him. And the spotlight would rest on him as his parents disappeared into the air.
But the shadows kept reaching for him – and he was scared.
...
It was the nightmare that came on the most often.
Dick Grayson was seven years old (one more day till eight actually) and as the nightmare came more periodically and it got longer. The city got more recognisable. In fact, they were in the very same city now – Gotham.
And the darkness prowled around him now – it no longer clawed at him – like it was biding it's time, like it knew something he did not.
...
It was the night after they died.
And for the first time, the spotlight that protected him started to fail. The shadows still prowled, but now one or two would slip past – entering his little circle of light.
He was alone, and it wouldn't be long till his light failed.
...
The hand on his shoulder was comforting. The man that killed his parents was brought to justice. And Batman had agreed to train him.
The darkness that already made it in could stay, but he could still prevent more of the shadows from reaching him.
His spotlight strengthened with the bright colours he now wore as Robin.
It would be the quite some time before he had the nightmare again.
...
Then stuff happened.
Life throws these things at you and then everything would descend into the depths in a gift basket.
But something about the dream changed. He no longer called it a nightmare. He couldn't. Not when he knew – somehow that he would always know – that he had just enough Romany in him (from his Dad's side) to sometimes get vague impressions of déjà vu and the future. Nothing like a meta ability, just a slightly stronger intuition.
The dream had foreshadowed Robin after all.
And now, with more shadows being able to slip in, Nightwing.
...
It was only after Bruce 'died' that he let himself go.
He took that spotlight, and encased it within himself – otherwise the curse of the cowl would fall too heavy on him. And once he did, he opened himself to the shadows.
That was when that vague fear lessened.
The shadows were not scary, they were familiar. They felt like Alfred and Damian and Tim and Jason and Babs and Cass and Bruce. They felt like family. The shadows were never a thing to be afraid of.
When Dick woke up from the dream, he went down to the Cave. And as he passed by the suit and cowl, he welcomed the shadows – the mantle – that settled on his shoulders.
And it felt like going home.