A/N: This takes place near the beginning of Dick and Jason's relationship.
Trigger warnings: PTSD, nightmares, panic attacks, vomiting, and past sexual assault.
Everything is wrong. He can't think. He can't speak. It's cold. It's wrong. He's cold. He's not alone though. Never alone. Why can't she just leave him alone? No! No. Don't touch me. It's wrong. He's wrong.
Dick gasps as he wakes. He's tangled up in his bed sheets, covered in sweat. There are tears covering his face. He stares at the ceiling; trying to think clearly through the post-nightmare daze. Trying, and failing, to keep in the wretched sobs in his throat.
Damn it. He can still feel her hands on his body. Damn it all.
"Dick?" A sleepy voice in the darkness. Dick turns to face Jason. His boyfriend. That word still feels weird just to think I'm terms of Jason.
He feels a calloused hand run his side any wants to scream. All he manages is a dry sob.
That's when Jason sits up. "Dickie bird?" His voice is soft yet concerned.
Dick opens his mouth, tries to speak. The words are there but the won't reach his lips.
He shuts his eyes but all he can see is her face. Beautiful. Dark hair, red lips. All be can feel are her hands on his body. Soft. He can smell her sweet perfume and it makes him want to vomit.
"Dick!" Jason shouts. Dick opens his eyes and realises he can't breath. He's hyperventilating. It's a panic attack. He needs to calm down but he can't. He can still feel her hands on him. He knows he's safe but he isn't. He knows she's gone but she's not.
Jason is grabbing him now. Forcing him to sit up. Then Jason is gone. He's not sure why. He's not aware of anything that's happening. Just black hair and brown eyes and red lips and sort hands and a flowery smell that makes him want to vomit.
There's a bright light. It's too bright. His eyes aren't adjusting. It's just pain.
And then he's leaning forward. And then he's throwing up. Right in his lap but he barely notices. He can't breath.
He's throwing up and he can't breath. There are hands on him then. Hands on his bare back. too large and rough to be hers. Still he reacts. Tries to throw her off of him.
"Don't touch me!"
Finally words. He said something and the hands are gone. But he still feels hands on him. His sides and his chest. His lungs are constricted. He can't breath. He feels like he's joking on air.
"Dick! Dickie please!" a panicked voice. Deep and scared.
"Mmm, Dickie" a soft voice. So sweet. Warm and aroused.
No.
It's not real. She's not here. She's gone. But she's never gone.
Strong arms wrap around him. Holding him against a firm chest. This time he doesn't resist. Doesn't have the energy too.
He lets himself be held. Trying not to think of who else has held him. He shakes and sobs.
"Shh... Dickie." Jason's voice is soft, he's trying to calm him but Dick can here the slight shake in it. Jason's scared. Of course he's scared. Dick keeps sobbing, no point in keeping it in. No point hiding that he's scared too. He knows he's safe but he's scared. He knows he's safe but he doesn't feel safe.
It's happened before. Of course it has. Panic attacks, nightmares, flashbacks. Classic PTSD symptoms.
He hides it well though. It's been a long time since he's broken down in front of anybody. And he feels so broken.
He keeps sobbing into Jason's chest. He's so tired. He still can't think straight but it's his boyfriend holding him, that's what matters. His body still shaking in Jason's arms.
"It's okay Dickie... You're safe... You'e gonna be okay."
Jason's tears land on his cheeks and mix with Dick's.
"It's gonna be okay."
A/N: You know what's a great coping mechanism for trauma? Writing. Writing about canon characters having PTSD helps me deal with my own PTSD.
Dick's nightmare, sensory flashbacks and panic attacks are all based off of some of my own experiences./
