Hey Everyone! Hope you are doing well! It's a little late, but life's been hectic. Hope you all enjoy Whumptober prompt 4! Let me know any prompts you're excited about! Without further ado... Lots of Love - Lorna :)

Hallucinations

"Hood!" Nightwing yelled as the entire room was bathed in toxic green gas. Scarecrow had landed a lucky, cheap shot at Jason earlier and managed to crack the helmet so it was no longer airtight, which meant Jason's rebreather wouldn't work and even now he was inhaling the poison. Because of the Lazarus pit, it would take a moment for the toxin to fully enter Jason's system, but Scarecrow's venom was already affecting him. Nightwing could see it in the way Jason's shoulders tensed, the way his breathing got shallow. Out of sheer instinct to protect his brother, Nightwing snapped off his own rebreather and pulled Jason's hood off, attaching it to his brother's face.

Immediately, Jason's eyes widened under the domino, and he took a breath of fresh air on instinct.

"Nightwing, no," he rasped, trying to pull the mask off. "The room, you're gonna…"

Dick just nodded, placing his hand over Jason's to stop his frantic movements. "It's okay, little wing." The edges of his vision were going dark.

"Dick, sh*t!" Jason hisses. Dick could hear the worry in his voice as his legs gave out from underneath him. "Dammit, come on Big Bird. Why the h*ll would you do that! Don't- stay awake!"

Dick wanted to stay awake, he really tried to focus on Jason's voice, but his heart was banging away in his chest and making it harder and harder to breathe. He wasn't getting enough air, he was drowning. No. He was falling. Falling and falling and falling. He was watching himself fall until he hit the ground with a bang. Everything hurt, and he wanted to scream, but his broken body was lying on the floor in front of him. No, it wasn't him, the body was too small. He wanted to throw up.

"Dami." He croaked, broken finger reaching toward his brother. The body he grabbed was not the one he intended, but it filled him with just as much horror. "Babybird." He hissed. He abruptly turned and retched. He thought he could feel phantom warmth on his neck, somebody trying to ease the lingering pain. He couldn't bring himself to acknowledge it as a cackling laugh broke through the haze. Another broken, bloody body landed near him and Dick didn't want to look at Jason's prone form, didn't want to know if it was his 15-year-old self, or his 19-year-old one.

"Please, not Jason," he hissed. There was a scream from above, and Dick looked up only to be blinded by huge spotlights. Music was ringing as the screams harmonized. Dick felt his nausea build at the familiar scent of popcorn, sweat, and animals. He closed his eyes, expecting to hear the thump and crush of two bodies colliding with the floor. He only heard one. The rational part of him said not to open his eyes, and yet he did anyway, his eyes resting on the figure in front of him, wrapped in black, with ropes twisted disturbingly around his arms and legs. Everything was knotted and bent at multiple angles.

"B" He gasped. He tasted metal, but he couldn't remember biting his cheek or tongue. He reached out to pull the ropes away from the body so it wasn't hanging like a puppet. He could feel a wetness on his cheeks that took him right back to the moment he had watched his parents fall, like birds with clipped wings. Like his brothers, robins who couldn't fly. Like Batman, caught like a fish in a net, tangled among the ropes.

Dick's entire world shattered before his eyes as he drowned in the death before him. He wanted to cry and scream but he couldn't as the blood of his family choked him. He felt like he suffocated for hours, rotting with the corpses of his family.

He woke up gasping as if he hadn't taken in air before.

"Chum, it's okay. Breathe." A familiar gruff voice reassured. There was a hand on his back, very gently pressing on his spine, giving him a sense of awareness as he struggled for air.

"B- Dad." He whispered, voice ragged from screaming in the throes of the toxin. "You're-"

Bruce's eyes went soft as he caught the unsaid panic. "I'm alright, Chum, it's you I'm worried about."

Dick shook his head, his eyes still wide with panic. "Jason? Dami? Tim? Are they all...?"

"Fine, Dick. Everybody is alright." Bruce reassured.

"Really?" Dick whispered.

Bruce moved his hand up and down his back in reassuring lines. "Yes."

Immediately Dick slumped, and Bruce's hands came up to grab him. "There you go, chum. It's alright."

It wasn't.

"I saw you all die," murmured Dick. "My biggest fear used to be watching my parents die, over and over again, but this time it was you… and Dami… and Jason… and Tim and-" Dick couldn't breathe.

There was a gentle hand in his hair and a warm hand cupping his cheek, helping him steady his breathing.

"Everyone's alright, Dick," Bruce repeated. "They're all worried about you, but I sent them to bed. Do you want to see them?"

"Yeah." Maybe then the gnawing in his stomach would go away. Bruce seemed to understand. He just put his arm around his shoulders and helped him off of his bed, leading him to Bruce's room.

"Why-?"

Bruce gave him the nearest hint of a smile. "I told you they were worried. Only way to get them all to sleep in a bed." He pushed open the door to reveal all his siblings bundled together on Bruce's ridiculously large bed. Damian was half off the mattress, an arm and a leg dangling haphazardly, his little fist clutching the sheets. Tim was twisted in an awkward position, like he had fallen asleep with someone sitting him. Jason, on the other hand, was the only one who looked somewhat normal, even though he was sleeping so upright his head was drooping forward. Dick knew it was probably so he could wake up at any given moment.

"Believe me now?"

Dick nodded.

"Come on, fighting off Scarecrow toxin makes you tired." His grip was gentle and yet it left no room for arguments. Dick was led to the bed and, like a tired child, he reluctantly climbed on, careful not to wake any of his siblings. Bruce, however, was not nearly so cautious. He nudged Jason as he lay in the bed, very much on purpose.

Jason woke up instantly, his eyes alert and almost glowing green for a moment in the dark. They died down after a moment, and Jason looked toward Dick, his eyes roaming over Dick for any apparent injuries.

"You're an idiot, Dickhead." Jason snapped suddenly. "Why the h*ll would you give me you're stupid rebreather. Despite what you think, you're not invincible."

Dick shrugged. "I'm fine."

Jason scoffed, his arms suddenly around Dick in a tight embrace.

"Don't care. You are never allowed to do that again."

Dick let a small smile grace his features as he returned the embrace. "Can't stop me, Little Wing."

Jason snorted. "I'm bigger than even you, big bird."

Dick sighed. "True, but I'm faster."

He could feel Jason rolling his eyes. "Go back to sleep, Dickie. You had a rough couple of hours."

Maybe later Jason would admit to Dick or Bruce how bad it had scared him to watch Dick writhe, scream, and cry on the floor, being able to do nothing to help. Now, though, he comforted his brother the way Dick somehow always knew how to comfort him. He ran a hand up and down Dick's shoulders, pushing away the fear and tension, pulling him with his other hand down onto the bed so he was settled between Jason and Bruce. Bruce's hand found Dick's head, and he carded his fingers through Dick's dark locks. Almost immediately, Dick fell asleep.