Wounded Birds, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl [rough draft]
Part 8 (Dick)
I wake up screaming at five in the morning because someone's dragging me out of bed, they've come back for me, they're going to kill me-!
He's screaming, too. Not an Owl; it's Damian, panicking in my grip almost as much as I'm panicking in his.
"D...Dami...?!"
"GRAYSON!"
"What?! What is it?!" Now we're clinging to each other. He's still in full costume, covered with sweat and mud and blood and singe marks from the night's patrol, his boots staining my sheets as Titus dithers nearby.
"G...Grayson..." Now he's crying.
"I'm here. I'm here, buddy."
Bruce comes in, also in full costume, prompting Damian to sniff hard and pull back and try to scrub the tears off his face.
"What happened?!" I demand.
"I don't know. He just-"
"You're okay?" Damian snarls at me. "Nothing happened to you while I was gone?"
"No, Dami," I say gently. "I'm fine. I've been asleep."
He's silent for a long time, moving only to caress the dog when Titus rests his head on Damian's thigh.
Bruce is studying us both, looking troubled. "What made you think Dick was in danger?"
"N...Nothing! Nothing, of course he's fine!" Damian throws himself off my bed and storms out of the room as violently as he entered it, hurling pieces of his uniform as he goes.
Bruce stays behind a moment to set a hand on my hair and peer at me some more.
"I'm fine. Go comfort him."
"I'm just trying to understand what the trigger was."
"Might not have been anything in particular. Sometimes the panic just...happens."
He sighs deeply and leaves. I can't get back to sleep, so I go hunt down some cereal, watch the news for a while, then hear Alfred in the kitchen and help him make some real breakfast. I have nothing better to do, so I trail after him to the master bedroom. Bruce looks exhausted as he sleeps; Damian and Titus are curled up beside him.
Alfred opens the curtains, waking Titus and prompting a groan from Bruce. Damian doesn't stir. "Go away, Alfred," Bruce moans.
"May I remind you, Master Bruce, you have an 8:00 meeting with Mr. Fox this morning."
"Uuuuugggghhhhh..."
"You can go back to sleep afterward," I suggest, stealing a banana from his tray.
When Bruce finally manages to drag himself out of bed, Titus jumps up and follows him, pauses when the bathroom door gets shut in his face, then goes to Alfred, making his 'Please let me out to pee' expression. Damian whimpers a little in his sleep - he'll be upset to wake up later and find himself alone. I settle beside him, and he relaxes in my arms.
Alfred stifles a yawn as he picks up the breakfast tray. "Is there anything you require, Master Dick?"
"I'm fine, Alfie. Let poor Titus out and then get some sleep. I've got Damian."
"Very well, then."
o.o.o.o.o
I try not to look at Damian's art. These days, he draws a lot of grotesque owls ripping bloody chunks out of robins. He draws brains exploding in the wake of bullets. He draws dead Nightwings, and Talons with his own face.
He knows how much they bother me, so since I'm here in his room, playing a game on my tablet while he lies with his head pillowed on Titus and his legs flopped across my waist, he's drawing a picture of me performing a stylized midair pirouette. One of his 'Polite Company' pictures, which he piles on top of his real art.
Not that we lesser beings can ever keep anything hidden from the master of this house for long.
Bruce comes into the room with a sketchbook in his hand. "Damian, we need to talk."
"You invaded my privacy."
"...I...I've set up an appointment... For you, too, Dick. She has excellent credentials-"
Damian sits up. "You can't be serious."
"Damian, how can I not get you two help, after what you've been through?"
"For the same reason we've never had professional therapy before! Anyone who digs deeply enough to be of any use will find out the family secret."
"It's...a risk I'll have to take. A risk I now regret not taking with Jason. I did make reasonably sure she can be discreet-"
"We've survived worse than the Owls! We'll be fine!"
"You're in worse shape than I've ever seen you, both of you. And, for all your experience, you'd never been subjected to any ordeal for such an extensive period of time before."
Lost a few minutes. My head is in Damian's lap as he absently curls locks of my hair around his fingers; he and Bruce are speaking quietly now instead of yelling. "...wish I could tune you out so thoroughly, that's all I'm saying."
Bruce's voice is gentle. "Dick?"
"Mm."
"Can you hear me?"
"Depends on what you say."
He chuckles softly and sets a hand on my shoulder. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just..."
I close my eyes and just be. Damian's hands, Bruce's hand. People I love. Don't leave me.
Bruce's voice is a whisper now. "I hate seeing you so hurt. I hate not knowing what to do about it."
"Some things you can't fix, Bruce. Like Gotham. And me."
"You are not like Gotham."
"Gotham eats your birds...crunches them up, swallows them..."
"You're not Robin anymore," Damian says harshly. "You're Nightwing. You always rise from the ashes."
I sit up, and I get to my feet, and I walk out to the balcony so I can feel sunlight on my skin.
Bruce trails after me. It's so strange seeing him hesitant. "So you'll go? To meet with her tomorrow?"
I can't even picture myself sitting in a clean, bright office, talking to some total stranger about my usual life, much less about the new shadows that are lodged in my soul. "I'd rather talk to you."
"Well...all right." He gestures toward a set of chairs on the side of the balcony. "Then talk to me."
o.o.o.o.o
"Jay?"
"Hm?"
It's his turn to babysit me. We're in the cave, because it's one of those times when I need thick layers of rock and Batman-level security systems between me and the outside world. Jason's doing mission research on his laptop as I lean against him and realize that I stopped playing my video game at some point. My dead character is drifting in a void, above a menu asking me if I want to load a saved file or quit.
"How did it feel...when you realized he wasn't coming...?"
Jason goes very still. After a long time, he says, "You know how it feels."
Yeah. Now I do. "How did you get over it?"
He exhales deeply. "I have different answers for that on different days."
"Hmm...maybe I'll start running around with a red hood and some guns."
"Dick." He pushes me upright and looks me in the eyes. "You are not me. Nothing could ever turn you into a Red Hood."
...That's what Damian says. That I have a special light in my heart they all admire. Sometimes I think it's dead, though. "What do I turn into, then...when they push me so far I can't come back...?"
"Did they really, though?"
"..."
"Come on, Dick. I know you went through hell, but you got off easy compared to me."
I think of that little boy, captured and tortured so far from home; I think of how much he suffered with no brother to look after him or protect him or comfort him. I think of the little boy who woke up in a coffin underground, who clawed his way to freedom with his bare hands. A little boy whose father didn't even know to look for him. A little boy who endured the darkest moments of his life alone.
I'm sobbing and clinging to Jay. He's swearing as he tries to pry me off, I know it was a long time ago, that he's not a little boy anymore, but I can't help it. He's right. If he could come back, anyone can come back. I can. I'm damaged, but I'm not dead. I still have people who love me. Just because I may never get my old life back doesn't mean I can't build a new one.
o.o.o.o.o
I'm startled out of an episode by the sensation of a dog's tongue swiping at my face.
"Aaaand boom! Instant wake-up call."
I blink up at my brothers in confusion. Tim and Damian are looking fascinated; Jason, with a proud expression, is holding the leash of a beautiful Rottweiler, who's now looking back and forth between him and me a little anxiously.
"Awesome job, Dora!" Jason coos, feeding her a treat from his pocket. "Good job! Good girl, Sanadora!"
"Sanadora...?"
"She's mine," Jason explains. "She...helps me, but I've been training her to see if...you know, she can help you sometimes, too. She's a fast learner."
Tim gives Jason a keen look as Damian and I stroke Sanadora. "I never knew you had a pet," Tim remarks. "Is she a therapy dog?"
"No," Jason says, but he sounds defensive and a blush is creeping up his neck.
"Jason. Dick's a basketcase and you went through even more trauma than he did. It's okay if you have a therapy dog." Jay shuffles his feet and doesn't answer.
"Hey~ sweet girl," I croon. "Hey there~ beautiful. Are you a good girl? Are you a good girl who finds broken boys and puts the pieces back together?"
"Yeah," Jason murmurs, "pretty much."
o.o.o.o.o
I'm not on patrol, so my suit is plain black with no identifying marks. Tim's keeping an eye on me as I taste the night for the first time in weeks. As I learn how to fly again.
"Nice," he remarks when I land on the rooftop beside him.
"More like, 'not terrible.' I used to be able to-"
"This isn't then. It's now. And you didn't fall off the roof or lose your mind in midair, so I'd say that's a win."
"Not exactly a confidence booster..."
"Raise the bar in increments, Nightwing. You'll reach whatever goal you set, but you can't skip the steps in between."
I already know all this. I shouldn't be forcing him to lecture me as if I'm a child. "I'll race you to Wayne Tower."
"You're on."
Halfway there, a woman's scream rises up from an alley; both Red Robin and I stop dead. I peer over the edge of the rooftop and see four thugs menacing a terrified couple.
"Nightw-"
I don't know if I'm ready yet or not. It doesn't matter. Innocent people are in trouble, innocent people are frightened, innocent people are about to be in pain, and I'm already instinctively diving to save them.
"What the-?"
"Behind you-!"
"It's the Bat-!"
Punching, leaping, kicking. This is so easy I could do it in my sleep. Draw it out, stall, delay the moment when I'll have to let Guardian Angel-
No angel. No Owls. I'm- This isn't a mission, I'm stopping a crime, these monsters were hurting people for no reason, I don't have to hold back-! No, no killing, I'm not supposed to-
"Nightwing."
Why can't I hit anyone? Because Tim's blocking my arms. I'm... This isn't like when I usually lose time, usually things are suddenly different and my body feels heavy like I'm waking up...but this is...I remember fighting...remember, sort of, Tim shouting me, dragging me away, pushing me against the wall...my body's so tense, resisting him, trying to keep fighting.
"...would think it'd be a no-brainer, but some people just don't have any common sense. Seriously, walking through an alley at night in Gotham..."
Tim's rambling in that same tone everyone uses when they're trying to coax me back to myself. But I...I remember fighting... My angel, where's my...Damian... Patrol, not a mission...
"...and my arms are getting kinda tired, but it's okay, I'll last longer than you do..."
Thugs on the ground. Two motionless, one twitching and mewling in pain, another one trying to crawl away.
"...please. Please, Nightwing. ...Robin. Robin, come back."
"I've been here," I murmur, but like magic, the sound of...my old name, and the sound of my own voice, seems to break the spell. I exhale and sag against the wall; Red Robin sighs in relief and cautiously steps back, shaking out his arms.
"Nightwing?"
"I..."
"Are you all right?"
"...Did I kill them?"
He says in a low voice, "I haven't had a chance to check yet."
I turn around and I walk. I don't know what to do or where to go, all I know is that I need to keep moving. Walk...
"Cool mask, dude."
"Hey, you one of those vigilantes?!"
"Ooohh, you look like Nightwing. Costume's different, but the butt's spot-on. Can I take a selfie with you?"
Red Robin catches up and extracts me from the little group of gawkers I've started accumulating. "Rooftop," he hisses in my ear. "Get off the street!"
I break into a run alongside him and fire my grappling hook. The sense of sailing upward is so delicious that I nearly forget to land once I reach the top. I crash and roll into a painful sprawl, then just lie there in the moonlight, wishing I could keep going up and up and up, and never come back down.
"Nightwing! Are you okay?"
"Is there...blood on my gloves...? It's too dark, I can't tell..."
"Dick," he hisses, and pries off both our masks. "Dick. Are you all right? I need to know. You're not acting normal."
"Normal, Timmy. What's normal for me now?"
"Come on. We're going home."
No. I realize suddenly that I don't want to go home, because I want to keep flying. I'll be good, just let me keep flying...! "I'm okay! I'm okay, Tim. I'm just... Did I kill anyone?"
He exhales deeply. "No. One was...in really bad shape, though. I called an ambulance. What happened? You wouldn't stop, even when they were down."
"I..."
"When Robin was like this, he did kill someone. We're not even supposed to be on patrol. If we come across anything else, I'll handle it - you stay on the roof, okay?"
"Okay," I lie.
Off we go again, slower at first, until I get my bearings. I love this feeling of soaring through the air...I may have been rescued from the Owls, but I haven't been free until this night.
Gunshots erupt from a nearby store.
"Nightwing!"
People screaming...frightened, maybe hurt...
"Nightwing, come BACK!"
One of the storefront windows has already been shot out; I dash through it, angling my body so as not to get sliced by jagged glass. The shoppers who didn't manage to flee in time are cowering on the floor as thugs swing their guns around and laugh. Their leader's threatening a clerk, who's starting to empty the cash register.
I kick weapons out of hands and dodge bullets. I track every civilian in the room so as to hopefully avoid catching them in the crossfire. I smile when I see openings for quips, though I can't think of any actual quips to say. I punch faces and show off a bit with my acrobatics, and punch more faces, I'm not smiling anymore, why do you bring guns to a place where people just want to go about their lives in peace, why do you have to spread fear and pain, why? I'm hitting, and hitting, and Red Robin's got me pinned to the wall again.
"...was too early, should have figured, we've had more than enough for one night, Nightwing. Robin. Robin?"
"Mnh." It doesn't work this time; my body's still straining to get free. My mind feels like it's floating, up there.
"It'd be better for us to be out of here before the cops show up, but don't worry, I can still get us out of trouble, it'd just be a lot easier if I didn't have to knock you out or- Nightwing? Are you trying to say something?"
My lips are moving, but I can't get enough air to force the words out.
"Dick," he tries, quietly enough that hopefully no one will overhear. The traumatized shoppers who haven't run yet are looking at me fearfully, keeping their distance. "Damian."
That does it.
"Damian," Tim says again in relief, easing back. "Damian's probably worried about you. Let's get you home, so he won't have to come fish you out of jail."
"Dami..."
"Come on. Back door. Roof."
Roof...get to the roof...
I don't know how long I crouch on a nearby rooftop, staring at the stars, trying to piece myself back together. At last, Tim lays his arms around me, and I start to feel more like myself. "Tighter," I murmur. He hugs me hard, and I hug him back, feeling like I'm being squeezed properly back into my own body. "Mm. I'm okay now."
"I wanna go home, Dick," he murmurs.
It makes me smile to hear him pulling Damian's 'please big brother take care of me' trick. "Yeah. Okay. I guess we'd better."
o.o.o.o.o
Sanadora's tongue on my face. I jump a little, my arms closing instinctively around her-
Dinner. Bruce and Damian are having a lively, amiable argument as Alfred contributes snarky comments. The dog is half in my lap so she can reach me. "Good girl," I croon, "good girl, Sana." She licks me again and hops off my lap and claims her reward from Jay.
Damian turns to me and demands that I back him up about whatever he's trying to prove to Bruce. I smile as I speak, because Sanadora called me back to myself so quickly that Jason was the only one who noticed me leave in the first place.
o.o.o.o.o
I'm watching a Charlie Chaplin film. I don't realize that I've stuffed myself into the farthest corner of the couch until Bruce sits down on the other side and I realize how much space he's taking up compared to me. I uncurl and try to sit normally.
"I always liked this movie," Bruce remarks.
"Yeah."
We watch in silence for a while. I edge closer until I'm leaning against him, wondering if he'll get uncomfortable and leave. Instead, he puts an arm around me, and I relax, feeling...like a kid with his dad. I haven't felt like that in a really long time.
After a while, Bruce murmurs, "I wish I could promise that I'll never let anyone hurt you again, but I can't."
"I know."
"...I destroyed the Court, but...it didn't help. I keep feeling like I need to do something, but there's nothing left to do. There's nothing left to fix that's in my power to fix."
He so rarely opens up like this. "Just keep doing what you've been doing. Being there for us, listening to us. This is enough...Dad."
He stiffens for a moment in surprise. Then, slowly, he relaxes. I drift off to sleep, and when I wake up almost an hour later, he's still there.
o.o.o.o.o Years Later o.o.o.o.o
It's sickening. Children held captive and abused, locked away from the sun, living every moment of their lives in fear. Batman took down the criminals, the police cracked open the basement, workers are gently freeing children and lifting them out, but the damage has been done. These small, fragile lives have been scarred forever.
One little girl with blank eyes doesn't move or say a word as a woman speaks coaxingly to her and tries to tug her off the bed she'd been chained to. My heart aches, because that child's eyes used to be my own.
"Officer." I smile as I approach. "I can sit with her a while. There are others who need your help."
"Nightwing." She gives me a dubious look, then nods and moves on to a crying little boy.
I sit down on the bed, angling my body to shield the girl from the rest of the noisy, crowded room, but trying not to box her in, either. "Hello, sweetheart. My name is Nightwing. Funny story how I got that name: you see, I was talking to Superman one time - he's a friend of my family, it's pretty cool - and he told me about this legend they had back on Krypton..."
I talk for as long as it takes, until I finally see life start to dawn in the girl's eyes. She shrinks back fearfully.
I smile and don't move. "Hi there. Welcome back."
She eyes the commotion beyond us, looking frightened.
"Batman and the police found you guys. I know we were late, I am so, so sorry about that. But you're safe now, and those bad people are never going to hurt you again." I hold out my hand. "Are you hungry? Or thirsty? They've got some snacks and water out there, if you want any."
She's curled tightly into herself, watching me.
"I know it hurts. I know how scary it is. It might be scary for a long time, but you know what? It's not always going to be this way. Things are better now, and you'll get used to that, little step by little step. It's okay if you're still scared for a while. There are people who care about you, and they'll let you hide until you're ready to come out."
Her lips move. "...Thirsty."
"You want some water? Do you want to come with me to get some, or do you want me bring it to you?"
She seizes my arm in a death grip and stares at me, terrified.
"Don't worry, I won't leave until you're safe. Can you stand up?"
She stares at the broken chains and at the chafe marks on her wrists and ankles for a long time.
"Do you want me to carry you?" She whimpers when I get too close, so I have to back away again and flag down someone to fetch us a bottle of water. The little girl is too weak to break the seal on the cap, so I open it for her. She swallows a couple of mouthfuls but then collapses in on herself, sobbing, the bottle dropping from her hands. I hesitantly touch her back, and she seems to be okay with that, but she tenses when I start to rub soothingly. So I just sit there with my hand resting on her back, until her sobs finally die down to sniffles. "Honey?"
She goes limp. After a minute, I gently sit her up, and sigh when I see her blank expression. "Come on, darling. I've got you. Come this way..." She's like a zombie, shuffling after me as I lead her by the hand. A man puts a blanket around her shoulders and sits her down with some of the other children. I stay with her, holding her hand, until her eyes come back to life. She looks around in confusion, then settles on me.
"Hi again. I'm happy to see you back! Listen...I have to go soon, but these good people will still be here, okay? They gave you this blanket, and the water, and these cheese crackers here. You can eat them whenever you want, okay? Do you want me to open them for you?"
A harried woman stops beside us. "Nightwing, we're ready for this group."
"All right." As we move toward a van, two of the other children in the group cling to me, and another keeps asking me if I'm Batman.
"No, I'm Batman's friend. We worked together to find you guys tonight."
"You and Batman beat them?! Batman punched them in the face?! Batman blew them up?!"
"Yes, yes, and sort of."
They're so reluctant to let go of me that I'm tempted to get in the van with them, but we're going to have to separate at some point, and I have more work to do tonight. I've delayed enough as it is, especially since I'm planning to escort the vans safely to their destinations. Besides, I'm not the only one who wants these children to be safe and well-cared for. "It'll be okay. Maybe you'll see me around sometime, flying through the night with Batman...!"
I manage to disentangle myself from all but one. The little girl continues to hold onto me, though she's having another episode.
"Move, Nightwing, we need to close the door."
"Look at her face. We need to wait."
So we do, and I talk about whatever comes to mind, and finally her eyes come to life again. She looks at me pleadingly.
"Don't worry - you're a very strong and brave young lady. All of you are. You are going to live, and one day you'll remember what it's like to be happy again. Maybe you'll even want to help other girls and boys so that they can be safe and happy, too."
The little girl looks at me. She doesn't smile, but her hand squeezes mine, and then she lets go. "You'll heal," I tell her.
I know, because I did.
o.o.o
A/N: That ending...did not follow the script in my head.
Once again borrowing from Medli - in her Batfam daemon AU ( post/163440793583/last-doodle-batch-for-like18-months-haha-im ), Jason's daemon is a Rottweiler named Sanadora, which means "healer." In this fic, I'd originally written his therapy dog as just a random dog with an uninspired name, but then it occurred to me to ask Medli's permission to borrow Sana for the role. The idea of Jason having a therapy dog in the first place was inspired by this post: post/163184064813/inkydandy-sometimes-i-feel-like-jason-just-needs
There's another Medli sketch embedded in this fic on AO3~