Title: Graveyards (Two-Parter)
Fandom: Batman (Pre New-52, where Dick is Batman, Damian is Robin, and Bruce is still lost in time/dead)
Characters (Main): Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne
Rating: T for very graphic death description (gaaaaaaah)
Inspiration: Batman-defeats-all on Tumblr asked for "Dickie Angst" for my fifty follower celebration, so here it is. except not really
Summary: Despite his above-average intellect (and he never let Drake forget it), Damian just could not figure out what was wrong with Grayson.
Author's Note: This is a large one standing at 2,708 words and I certainly hope you all enjoy. I put the two parts together in the same chapter just because. I might change that later, I dunno.
Part One
Damian frowned (no, he wasn't pouting, unlike what Grayson cooed in his utter incorrigible way) as he contemplated what he felt was wrong with the universe.
No, not with the universe, but with Grayson.
Since Damian woke up this morning to lunch this afternoon, Grayson had been in a weird mood of the late. Grayson hadn't greeted him or Alfred in his annoyingly happy way for such an early time (to Damian's disgust, Grayson was a cheerful morning person) and had only picked at his food instead of shoving it all down his throat with his usual lack of manners. Pennyworth had not said a word about the nearly full plate when he cleaned off the dishes that morning, even though he would have usually scolded anyone who ate less than he believed they should.
When the plates were cleared, Grayson had left the room without so-much a goodbye to Damian or Pennyworth (which he certainly wasn't pouting about) and had went back to his bedroom until past lunch, in which he still had not left.
Despite his above-average intellect (and he never let Drake forget it), Damian just could not figure out what was wrong with Grayson. And this annoyed him greatly.
Suddenly, Damian's ears perked when he heard the door closing and opening from Grayson's room. The soft, almost completely silent gait of Grayson was destroyed by the mood he was in: turning his usual graceful footsteps to a louder, more shuffled walk. Damian frowned at the change of Grayson's footsteps and waited until the footsteps were just barely gone from the hallway, his mind made.
Damian quietly opened and closed his bedroom door, sneaking out with the training that both his mother and Grayson had taught him, and followed Grayson. It said much to his emotional instability that Grayson had not noticed that Damian was trailing behind him, as Grayson was one of the few that could tell if Damian was following him.
Their walk, not together but as close as Damian could manage, lead them outside into the graveyard.
Suddenly, it clicked.
Damian knew of Grayson's back story, about how he used to be an acrobat with his parents in a circus act before the mob boss named Tony Zucco killed his parents, causing Grayson to be adopted by Father. He had no been aware of the date that the incident had aspired, but Damian could make an educated deduction, especially with the mood that Grayson had been in.
Grayson knelt down in front of the two graves that were marked "Mary Grayson" and "John Grayson."
"Hello," Grayson said quietly to the graves. "Sorry I don't have any flowers for the two of you, but I hadn't felt up to running out and grabbing some."
Damian suddenly felt as if he was walking into something that was intimately private, something that even he should not be aware of. Before he could walk away, however, Grayson shook his head and motioned for him to come closer.
Busted, Damian sulkily walked towards the tombstones and Grayson. When he was close enough, Grayson grabbed his sleeve and brought him closer.
"This is Damian Wayne, my new brother," introduced Grayson quietly. "Dami, this is dat and day."
He said two words in a strange accent, in which Damian believed to be Romani.
"Hello," greeted Damian respectfully, nodding his head at the gravestones. While he usually treated people with less respect, these two were the people who helped Grayson come into his life and taught him his most basic personality traits, which, although were sometimes a bother, were…nice. "It is very nice to meet you."
"You know what happened to Bruce from one of our other chats, so I'm taking care of this brat now," stated Grayson with a small hint of humour near the end of the sentence in which Damian tt-ed about. "I thought you would like to meet him and I'm sure that he would have liked to meet you both. I-I miss you both so much."
Damian thought that Grayson was about to cry, but he only seemed to be shaking in his grief, his hold on Damian's sleeve tight and causing his knuckles to whiten. Damian wasn't sure that Grayson's inability to cry was a bad thing or a good thing in this circumstance.
"Please look after Bruce up there, because he needs it, and all the rest of us, okay?" chocked out Grayson.
They stayed in front of the graveyard for a large moment of time until Grayson's shakes stopped.
"Don't worry," Damian said quietly to the gravestones as if they could hear him. Maybe they could. "I'll take good care of your son."
Grayson let out a sad laugh, a mockery of his usual bright laugh, but a sincere one and Damian counted it as a victory.
"I'm supposed to be the one taking care of you, you prat," Grayson said, standing up and brushing off his trousers with one hand, the other one still tightly holding onto Damian's sleeve as if he was going to disappear.
"Tt. You can't even cook, let alone take care of me, thus the duty falls to me." Damian scoffed.
Together, they walked away from the graveyard, bickering and Damian knew that Dick was going to be alright.
Part Two
A scream tore him out of his dreams, Dick waking up with a start, breathing heavily. Dick pulled back his sweaty hair with a shaking hand, infinitely glad that he had awoken before the sickening wet cracks of two bodies falling from an exceptionally large height.
Of course, just because he woke up before he could re-live that moment in a dream didn't mean that he wasn't going to be singing that scene every time he closed his eyes today.
Dick prided himself in being able to safely and correctly think about his parents' death (unlike Bruce, who only pushed down his emotions so much that Dick was sure that he was going to burst, but he never really did because he had died before he could—), but on today, Dick thought that he was at least entitled to one day where he could truly and fully mourn the loss of his parents, even if unhealthily.
So, he curled up in his bed, hiding under his blankets, letting the overwhelming loss and sadness well up in his entire soul. Tears welled in his eyes, but they didn't fall. Dick knew that other people would be concerned with their inability to cry on a day like this, but Dick was thankful because that meant he wouldn't have to explain himself to Damian (Alfred always remembered this date without any prompting, the same way he knew when Bruce's parents had died and the same way he would know Bruce's death date).
Still, if he wasn't at the breakfast table before Damian gets there, like usual, Damian would most likely think something was up.
Without his usual energy, Dick got out of bed, stumbled out of his room, and managed to go into their usual eating area without falling down the stairs and hurting himself.
"Good morning, Master Richard," said Alfred quietly when Dick sat down in his usual spot.
Dick grunted, putting his arms on the table and then his head on top of his arms. Instead of chastising him for his lack of decorum, Alfred only sighed quietly and Dick could feel a hand rest on top of his head for a few moments before Alfred busied himself in the kitchen.
He let himself put his head in his arms for a few moments until he could hear Damian walking down the stairs in his near-silent way (but Damian always forgot, despite his superior intellect, about the fourth step that creaked whenever he put weight on it). Dick lifted up his head just in time for Damian to walk into the eating area. Not feeling up to niceties, Dick didn't say anything and Damian didn't greet in return.
Alfred put breakfast in front of the two and while Damian ate, Dick only played with his food, not feeling up to eating. He usually loved to eat (in an unrefined, completely peasant way according to Damian), but today…
Today wasn't really an eating day. In fact, he was just feeling sick just looking at the food.
Without saying good-bye to Aflred or Damian, Dick walked back up to his room, went into his separate bathroom, and nearly threw up at seeing the bones and the blood behind his eyelids. The disjointed bones and the scream that lasted on his mother's face, would last for all of eternity, the fright that was on his father's face, the way that the two were joined together, even in death…
Dick wasn't aware as to how much time had passed since falling (oh, and there was a nice word) back into that day but knew that it had been long enough. Nearly staggering as he got up (and since when did he sit down?), Dick stumbled out and into the hallway, heading for only one place. As he walked down the stairs, he heard the fourth step creaked, Damian, but couldn't care less. It was due time for Damian to meet his parents anyway.
Dick went to the well-known path of the graveyard and made a note to himself to visit Bruce's grave again this week, but today…
Today was for his parents.
He knelt down in front of their gravestones, feeling that his knees were going to give out on him at any moment, and greeted his parents.
"Sorry I don't have any flowers for the two of you," said Dick sadly (why hadn't he gotten any flowers? why did he have to forget the flowers but was never able to forget that memory?), "but I hadn't felt up to running out and getting some."
Which was true enough, but he supposed that it didn't matter anyway.
Dick noticed that Damian was about to leave and shook his head, motioning for his little brother to come closer, which he did, pouting. It would have been funny and adorable if it wasn't for the circumstances.
Dick grabbed Damian's sleeve, he knew that Damian disliked being touched but he needed some form of comfort from someone so he compromised, and introduced his new brother to his parents before doing the opposite.
"Hello," said Damian respectfully, which confused Dick. After all, Damian was never respectful to anyone. "It is very nice to meet you."
"You know what happened to Bruce from one of our other chats, so I'm taking care of this brat now," stated Dick, putting humour to the last few words of the sentence, which Damian (to his utter shock) tt-ed about. "I thought you would like to meet him and I'm sure that he would have liked to meet you both. I-I miss you both so much."
Dick could feel his hold on Damian's sleeve tighten as he started shaking (he was really glad that he had decided to kneel down because he probably would have fallen if he had been standing up). The overwhelming grief shook him like it always did. Grief was always the worst emotion to Dick: it stifled, it made your heart hurt, it made you believe that you could never truly feel anything except for grief again, it made you unable to breathe and you just couldn't get air into your lungs…
"Please look after Bruce up there, because he needs it, and all the rest of us, okay?" Dick choked out finally, trying to fight the grief that was threatening to drown him, make him fall with the rest of his family.
They stayed in front of the graveyard for an eternity and for a second before:
"Don't worry," Damian said quietly to Dick's parents. "I'll take good care of your son."
Dick choked out a laugh, mixed with both humour and sadness, but a sincere one.
"I'm supposed to be the one taking care of you, you prat," Dick replied, standing up and brushing off his trousers with one hand, the other one still tightly holding onto Damian's sleeve as if he was going to disappear.
"Tt. You can't even cook, let alone take care of me, thus the duty falls to me." Damian scoffed.
Together, they walked away from the graveyard, where his family slept their eternal slumber, but…
Dick didn't feel like he was going to fall any more.