Dick wasn't sure who had told her, but by the time he'd made it to the manor, broken hand fitted into a brace (curtesy of Leslie) and just barely feeling okay enough to not break down, she was there.
Barbara Gordon was gorgeous, as always, so much so that it took his breath away just to look at her. She looked severely unimpressed with him, though, with some hint of sympathy hidden behind her eyes. Dick knew in an instant that she knew, and he wouldn't have been surprised if she knew more than Jason and Tim did.
(Which was sort of a scary thought, because they'd both been there when he'd had his break down.)
"Come here," she said when the hum of his motorcycle died, and the moment he made it over to her, she pointed to Bruce's empty computer chair. "Sit."
Dick sat warily, turning the chair so that he was facing her. "Is this about what I think it's about?"
Barbara's eyes were piercing as they looked over him, snagging on the brace for a moment but eventually moving on. When she seemed to accept that a broken arm was the worst of it, she leaned forward in her wheel chair.
"I know about the girl," she told him, her voice quiet. "I heard the report, too. I know what happened."
"And if I told you I didn't want to talk about it?"
She didn't take her eyes off him, but her gaze seemed to soften a bit. "Then I would understand, and I would stay right here by your side."
She would. Barbara wouldn't leave him, even if he yelled and raged and broke down right in front of her. She would just get that pained look in her eye, the one that he hated putting there, and she would stay right where she was.
"Babs," Dick said, his voice just barely above a whisper. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "I can't—I don't know if I can talk about it again. It's still—Jason's already freaked out because I freaked out, and Tim's on high alert. He barely let me go this morning."
He kept his eyes on the ground, away from Barbara's intense eyes, the eyes that could read him like no other. He didn't know why he had told her any of that, about Tim and Jason. It wouldn't make any difference in deterring her. She would still be charging headfirst into his issues without the slightest hesitation.
He really didn't want to talk about it with her, though, if only because doing so would bring back that quiet pain. It had hummed underneath his skin, and Dick didn't want Barbara to feel it, too. If he told her, she would find a way to share his pain, and Dick had had enough of hurting the people he loved.
"Dick," she said, and her voice was soft and gentle, and Dick kind of wanted to cry, because he was too late. She had already taken on his pain, ready to shoulder more if need be, and he hated how relieved he felt—because he didn't feel so alone anymore. She placed a hand on his knee. "Dick, look at me. Please."
He met her eyes, and placed a hand over hers. The emptiness of the bad night, the strain of the panic attack, the images burned into his memory—they were all washed away at her touch.
"I'm sorry," Dick said, blinking away the burning in his eyes. "I'm so sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for," Barbara told him.
"I keep hurting you. Every time I turn around, you're hurt because of me. It keeps happening, and I'm so sorry, Babs."
Barbara sighed. "Dick Grayson, I've been in love with you my entire life," she told him. "Ever since the day I first met you. I would do anything for you, Dick, and I know you would do the same for me. So let me hurt for you. Let me help you."
Dick's mouth worked for an answer, but he couldn't think of anything to that, other than, "I love you, too." Real eloquent. But he was relaxing under her touch, under her gaze, and he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. "I love you so much, Babs, and I don't want to see you hurt anymore, but—but okay. Okay."
Barbara smiled, but it was said at the edges. "You don't get to pick and choose what hurts me, Dick. You can't go through life trying to shield me from the worst. I've already seen it."
Dick nodded, his chest feeling tight with pent up emotion. "Yeah, okay," he conceded again. She always seemed to be so much stronger than him, so much smarter than him. "Thank you."
Barbara hummed softly, and it was only once she moved to press her lips against his forehead that she murmured, "Always."
From a prompt on tumblr. I hope I did this justice. I love Babs but I'm not sure if I'm the best at writing her, and it always seems like every time I try to write romance it turns into angst so I generally don't. Still, I loved this prompt, so thanks to the anon on tumblr who requested it! Prompts are open!