Entry for Batfam Week, which took place from March 8-14.
Day 1: Over-protectiveness
(POV Dick Grayson)
His lips lifted in a snarl as the blurred figures stepped closer. He shifted to keep them all in sight, balancing his weight on the balls of his feet as he crouched protectively in front of them. Them: the three he loved with his whole being, the three he would die to protect, the three he had bled and been bruised and hurt for.
The three he had not been able to keep safe from their own bleeding and bruising and hurting. His fault; his failure. He'd tried his best, but there were too many others. Others: the ones who hurt and hurt and hurt them. The ones who laughed when they screamed and mocked when they cried. The ones who had captured them and brought them here, to this dirty, dingy place where hope was gone and all that was left was…. They had only each other.
They were them. He and his three. Only he still stood, weak as he was, but he would not let the others close. Whatever breath was left in his body he would give to keep them safe a little longer, to let them be.
Noise reached his ears, words he didn't understand. He growled when the figures drew even closer, primal satisfaction filling him when he made them falter a little.
"Mine," he said with his posture, with his snarl. Once he would have used words, but there was no place for those here. He didn't remember how to shape them in a mouth that had done little more than scream horror and pain or croon soft noises of comfort to his. To his them.
The others moved forward again, and his throat ripped with his warning cry. Turning to face the one coming closest, his ankle—broken and abused—faltered, and he fell to a knee. No. He would not fail. He could not fail. Not them. He would not let the others touch them.
More words, more sounds he didn't pay attention to. He watched only the way they moved, how one knelt in front of him, a safe distance away. How three others spread out around the room. He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision, but all he saw was shadow, especially for the other that was closest to him.
More words, again, and why, why was the figure still talking? He would not move aside. But he had and would go willingly with them if they left his them alone. He didn't care what was done to him, so long as they were safe. But he knew, he could tell, the others wanted all of them.
Something pricked his neck, and he startled, hand slapping against the pain. It was something small, something sharp. He wavered on his knees and knew, he knew what it was. He wouldn't be able to fight back. They were going to take him and his them. The others had done this so many times in the beginning, either making them tired and sleepy to capture them, or keep him from protecting them, or even…even making heart-pounding fear tear through their bodies.
They'd attacked his first, then his second, then his smallest—his third—and nothing he did or said made the fear go away. Not until they got poked again. And then it had been his turn.
He didn't want more sharp sticks and nausea and tiredness and pain and fear.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Dickie. It's going to be okay. I promise, son. I promise."
The words washed over him as he felt his body slowly grow limp. Dark spots covered his vision as he considered the words, spoken gently and carefully, for all he didn't understand them. It was different from the other others.
His smallest made a soft noise of protest, and he shuddered and pulled away from the arms that were wrapping around him to trap him. He needed…. Whatever he'd been given was unforgiving, stealing strength from his arms and legs; stealing his sight; stealing his ability to help. But still, he tried, one trembling arm reaching out for his smallest.
And then...and then….
His arm fell limply to the floor. He was already gone.
This is kind of weird, I know. I hope it wasn't too confusing. The prompt for the last day of Batfam Week was "Nightmares," and my entry for that digs into this story a little more.
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I received such a beautiful, warm welcome to this fandom with my last story. Please know I hold your wonderful responses close to my heart and still smile at every single one.