So starts my exploration of the DC universe. This is just a very small drabble I wrote while trying to get into the characters' heads in preparation for a much larger story still in the planning and first draft stage. Enjoy!
I don't own DC. A small part of me wishes I did so the New 52 wouldn't have happened. The rest of me is very glad I don't have to deal with it.
Child
He's eight years old when his parents die.
It was an accident, they will later tell him.
That doesn't mean anything, not to a child who sees the people who raised him, loved him, are his entire WORLD... falling.
Later he will know that it takes them 6.3 seconds to go from broken wire to...
Now they're suspended in air.
They're flying, floating, not moving at all.
He can hear himself screaming.
His breath never runs out and he can't move either.
He can just watch them as they remain in the air.
He sees their faces - sometimes focused, sometimes smiling, but always so happy, always so dear to him - frozen in something he's never seen before and it makes him scared and sick and immobile.
He's eight years old when he watches his parents fall and understands for the first time what eternity feels like.
Teenager
He's on the edge of something that defies belief.
Because who would ever believe that a kid, barely a teenager, is the one taking out villains and stopping crime everywhere?
Who would ever believe that the scrawny ward of an irresponsible billionaire is also the partner of the city's most feared dispenser of justice?
But it's not just the warm spark of pleasure he gets from the subterfuge. It's also the rush of the wind and the thrill of falling and flying and knowing he's making a difference.
It's everything he never knew he would ever want and it's everything he knows he'll never be able to give up.
If this is eternity then he's glad. Because he never, ever wants this to end.
Adult
He's been on his own for years when the unthinkable - the impossible - happens.
He lost two parents years ago and its nothing like then. Neither is it like the utter elation and joy of his many years as Robin.
Time does not slow. Nor does it seem to move faster.
He is fully aware of every second that passes, their changing into minutes and hours, days... weeks.
He's counted every agonizing second since his father died.
He understands Tim's refusal to believe, because this couldn't have happened. Bruce can't be dead. Because that would mean Batman is dead.
And everyone knows Batman doesn't die.
So he knows why his brother leaves - probably the only other person in the world to really know what it's like to lose more than just the parents of your childhood.
But he can't afford to hope this time. There's too much depending on him now.
Because Batman can't die. Batman will not die.
He will let himself feel every second, day, month and remember what the heavy weight of the cowl means.
He knows that this too will feel like an eternity: the seconds he counts until Tim returns in failure and finally grieves. Or the impossible hope that his brother is right and he can stop grieving.
A small part of him clings to the hope that Tim's right.
Dick thinks he would be okay with waiting an eternity for that.