Sorry this took so long! I will get this finished... Eventually... And some sadness cos I was in a bad mood when I wrote this...
Prompt: Flame
Richard Grayson was lost.
"Get down!"
He was lost in eternal darkness. Or blinding light. Each waking moment was a terrifying descent through a crevasse of black that seemed eternal. That, or he was walking, trekking over miles and miles of bright white light.
"It's going to go off again!"
He was lost in his head, drowned by guilt - guilt so strong that it was inescapable if you had lost the will to live. But Dick wouldn't admit that.
"Yes! We've gotta go or we're dead!"
He could feel hands on him. Cold, calloused, touching him. Testing for a pulse. Trying to find signs that the boy was still alive. Trying to find life under the icy, pale skin.
"There are still people in there!"
He blinked. Alive. But he did not have life in him. He was an empty shell, that walked like a robot and spoke in such a monotone voice they wondered what happened; what happened to the boy in bright colors, who danced and played like he didn't have a care in the world?
"Wally, we've got to go!"
Dick wanted to sleep. He wanted to fall asleep and never wake up because life was so dull, so boring, so grey; his only color gone, and it was all his fault. He felt like a chalk drawing on the sidewalk that had been washed away by battering rain.
"I'm going in, Dick. Come with me or get the hell out!"
The burns on his hands were no comparison to the pain he felt inside. While the slightest of touches made his blisters sting, the pain inside him was always there, gnawing away at him. Making his heart ache in longing for what he had lost.
"Wally! Wally, don't!"
They say he was okay after the accident. That he was full of hope. He was still bright and bouncy and when asked if his friend had survived, he answered with a gleeful 'yes', and he'd go on to explain that the boy had obviously just run out when the fire ended. That officials could search the wreck and they wouldn't find a trace of the kid , because he got away, even if he was slightly scathed.
"Here's the first. I think there's another on the third floor."
But now he was empty. What had caused him to fall so quickly, so suddenly? Surely he had encounters worse incidents. He had been tortured before. And yet, for some reason, this affected him so drastically.
"Wally! The floors weak from the heat! Wally!"
Bruce showed him exactly what had happened a few days after the news was announced. A badly animated video. A little stick man stepping in a red zone, the floor splintering, and the little character falling down into the pixelated orange blobs.
"Dick! Help!"
Dick could only watch in silence. But later, he got up the little video and changed it. This time, the falling stick man grabbed the edge of the weak zone, and another stick man tried to pull him back up. But just like in real life, he wasn't strong enough. He couldn't hold on. Despite the change in the video, the stick man still fell into the sea of orange.
"Wally, I've got you. "
Dick told them Wally had super powers. He pointed out that if he had survived, Wally would have too. Wally was faster and stronger - even if Dick died, he would have held on.
"Let me go. You can't hold my weight. If you hold on to me you'll fall down as well."
It wasn't like Dick stopped being Robin. If anything, he became more involved with the job. But he couldn't rescue people from fires. He always broke down.
"I'm not letting go of you."
They found the body - or at least, what was left of the body - about a week after the accident. Dick laughed when he heard. He told them that they were wrong, that it was probably just the other girl who supposedly died. But they argued. They said they had compared the dental records and that it was a perfect match.
"Good. But in a physical sense, I need to let go of you. Mentally... Yes. Don't let go."
He thought they were lying. He punched and kicked and screamed at them, as if it was their fault his best friend had died. He told the officials that they were horrible, that they were liars. Even Bruce couldn't coax him out of his rage.
"No!"
Because they hadn't hurt him enough, they showed him the remains. Just a pile of reconstructed burnt bones. Whoever made himidiots must have been out of their minds or heartless. At that moment, Dixk stopped struggling. He couldn't move an inch. His anger died. He had been lying to himself, and there've had been shown the truth.
And it hurt.
"Seeya, Dick. Don't let go, okay?"
Dick wouldn't let go. He couldn't, he wouldn't.
He promised himself that, as he was ushered out of the funeral.
It wasn't until a pair of slightly charred red goggles showed up on his doorstep, tied up in brown paper, some kind of legal note attached, that he became the way he is now.
He pulled on the dark red goggles, standing, seeing the world as his best friend had in his final moments.
Dick did not cry.
He pulled the goggles off, and locked them in his cupboard, on the highest shelf, the joy in him fading.
As he slammed the doors shut, the flame in his eyes extinguished.
He didn't know if he'd ever be able to relight it again.
IM SORRY IT'S KINDA SAD, IT'LL BE HAPPY NEXT TIME
The next two chapters are linked to each other (there may be a third later on) and is just a whole lot of Birdflash fluff. Well, Birdflash at least
Please review!