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It was 2 am in the ever-cloudy Gotham and Dick Grayson was shit faced. A combination that wasn’t great, considering that said Grayson was in crime alley. The infamous strip of Gotham that housed the worst of the worst and the most destitute of the city. It was a cesspool ever since the Wayne murders so many years ago.
Wild how one event can change the course of so many people’s lives.
But that’s not what Dick is here to think about tonight. He’s here to reminisce on a boy, taken from the world too young in a costume that wasn’t supposed to bring death. To think about how he failed him. Maybe bring back the hallucination of him just to be able to see him one more time.
Because that’s the nature of getting shit faced by himself. His greatest regrets and all his world crushing guilt comes out of the tightly boxed recesses of his mind to tower over him.
He motions to the bartender to give him another glass, a whiskey, this time. And he almost throws up on the spot as the burn of the cheap stuff is almost enough to clear out his stomach. But he holds it down, he’s had worse. God knows he’s had worse. A certain alien drink comes to mind when he was travelling with the Titans and it gives him a chuckle.
But then he remembers another time when he was with the Titans, the time when he was off world when his little brother died. And the chuckle gets stuck in his throat.
It’s when his vision starts to get fuzzy around the edges that he decides he’s had enough. No need to actually get mugged on his way to a safehouse and not be able to defend himself.
He throws a 100 on the table and heads out with a wave to the bartender that has so graciously tended to his exorbitant drinking needs.
Its when he is out the door and turning down the street that reality hits him. Or rather he hits another person and he realizes almost instantly that he is a little bit more drunk than he thought he was. His coordinated steps falter and his balance leaves him as he falls backward.
Then everything stops. And the hands now gripping him by the shoulders hoist him up with an ease that he finds somewhat disturbing. He’s like almost 200 pounds, this shouldn’t be a walk in the park for this guy.
But that thought flees when as he feels the contents of his stomach roil within him, shoving off of the man with little grace as he doubles over. And nothing comes out, his gag reflex doesn’t fucking work when he’s drunk and so no relief comes as he simply coughs into the snow coating the ground.
He hears words but nothing gets through to him in his addled state. Then a hand touches his shoulder and he recoils like he’s been burned.
The next thing he knows he’s on his back and colder than all fuck.
When he finally opens his eyes he can see the outline of a face, green eyes, a strong chin, and a white shock of hair surrounded by black. He notes the man’s disturbed expression. But in the next moment the information is too much for his brain and he groans as he shuts his eyes again.
Then a voice says quietly, “Do you know where you are?”. Its said incredulously with a distinct amount of what seems to be worry. Which Dick smiles at.
“Yeah.” His reply was not very telling and the man should leave him alone. Hopefully. Damn he should have eaten before this, that was his problem.
But the voice rings out in the odd quiet of the street once again, “You sure buddy? Cause it looks like you’re in the middle of Crime Alley almost passed out and ready to be mugged, or worse.”
The last two words were said even quieter, like he didn’t mean for Dick to hear. But alas he did, and he found it funny.
He gives a breathy laugh before spitting out, “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been mugged, or worse. Just leave me alone, I’m fine.”
Dick has the distinct feeling that he’s said something wrong as his now opened eyes catch a look of horror on the mans face, and the hitch in his breathing is something to go by too.
Dick takes it in impassively, the revelation means nothing to him, it shouldn’t mean anything to this stranger either. But the thud as the man near collapses beside him says something different.
They’re now facing each other in the snow in the earliest of mornings, in Crime Alley. This could be the weirdest most dumb thing he’s done in a while. He thinks of what Bruce would think, Alfred, Tim, Barbara, and the Titans. He thinks some might be disappointed, some might be concerned, most would be questioning him. Questioning his sanity most likely. Which, fair. He wasn’t doing so great.
Ever since Jason’s death things seem to have gone down hill. Losing the Titans, losing himself in Bludhaven, to Blockbuster, and still having to care for that city after what it had done to him. After everything that it took away. He still had to care, because it was his. And no one else’s. His responsibility, like so many other things in his life. He was responsible. For Tim, for other hero’s, for Bruce, and for so many other things. Sometimes Dick felt like he held the world on his shoulders. So many people looked to him, so many people revered him. He was friends with the most powerful people in the world, and yet here he is. Spread out on the dirty cement of one of the most crime ridden places in the world. With a stranger.
A stranger that Dick once again zeroed in on. The man was staring at him intensely, seemingly also lost in his own head. As he noticed Dick looking at him though he seemed to come back to himself. He looked around, head whipping in all directions as if to survey the danger of the area.
And wildly, they haven’t been spotted by anybody that might want to take advantage of two dumb idiots sitting (and laying) in the snow.
The man seems to have come to the same conclusion, they were safe, for now. But not forever. And the man also seemed to think that because he got up and brushed what snow wasn’t already melted off of his person. Dick thought he would turn to go, but instead he hovered over Dick, hands out but seemingly hesitant to touch.
The mans voice reached his ears again, “Can I help you up?”
And well, who was Dick to refuse help up when he couldn’t even feel his body anymore. So he nodded and blearily lifted his arm up. The stranger gripped it and also reached down for his other arm and, again, lifted him up easily. The man was wearing a coat, but it was apparent that he was hiding some serious muscle, because again, Dick wasn’t light by any means.
Now hoisted up and on his own two feet again Dick felt the effects of the alcohol once more. Thank god for the hands still steadying him or he would have fallen right back down. His coordination had taken a serious hit. This usually wasn’t like him, his unfailing balance hardly ever left him, jesus, what had been in that alcohol he drank?
The man didn’t let go and actually bent down a bit to be the same height as him and looked him straight in the eyes. Dick tried to focus on him, try to figure out if he knew this weirdly helpful guy, but his eyes flitted about out of his control. And everything was still fuzzy damnit.
“okay, you’re fucking gone Dickie, and no way I’m leaving you out here. So you’re coming with me whether you like it or not.” The whole thing was said with determination, as if Dick was going to fight him or something.
Dick simply laughed at the thought. He couldn’t even stand up straight, much less fight.
“Sure man, lead the way.”
And that made the man blanch. Like full on. Like he was expecting something else. But he ended up nodding, shutting down his face and simply grabbing hold of Dick tighter around one arm and half leading half dragging him down the street.
They both remained quiet as they walked. Neither of them wanting to bring undue attention to themselves. Dick could at least muster that much self-preservation. But as they moved further and further into the depths of Crime Alley, away from the main roads and down the back alleyways his self-preservation kicked in a little bit more. He kind of realized that he was letting a complete stranger lead him wherever he so pleased. But as he thought back to their interactions and the care in which he was helping him, he decided to trust his gut. Which was saying that this wasn’t dangerous. That he was safe. And well, maybe he shouldn’t trust his gut when it was full of alcohol, but it had never really steered him wrong before, so…
Before long there was actually no place left to go but into an old apartment building. It was dilapidated and definitely run down, but it still stood. There didn’t seem to be any life about it, no cars parked out front, no people taking their early morning smoke breaks, no sign of people in any direction actually.
The stranger that had been holding him up through it all simply kicked the door lightly and it swung open on its old, rusted hinges. His hold on him never faltered as he lugged them both up three flights of stairs.
After successfully not dying on the way up Dick was then dragged down the subsequent hallway and into a run-down apartment. It was dingy and torn up, paint peeling off the walls and bullet holes strewn about. There were some suspicious stains on the carpet that Dick really didn’t want to become acquainted with. It would seem like a place that would smell, but the several dispensers plugged into the walls let out a calming lavender scent that immediately set Dick’s roving mind at ease. It was a smell that he interpreted as home and Alfred. The older man had always rolled a small vial of lavender under his nose when he was younger to staunch the stench of blood whenever he needed to get stitched up. He still did it to this day, a way to concentrate on his injuries and trick himself into believing that they weren’t so bad. It was a crutch really, one that many people had tried to rid him of. Slade especially, he hated that he had done it, seen it as a weakness that needed to be purged. But still, he persisted. Crutch or weakness or whatever, he would take what little comfort he got in this world and hold onto it until his hands went cold.
His thoughts had left him a bit hazy, and he found that when he came back to himself he was propped up on the couch that he had seen as well. It was old, he could feel the springs in it, but it was still comfortable. And he found himself sinking into it a bit as his cold body acclimated to the surprisingly warm apartment. His head also found its way to resting on the back of the couch and his eyes closed once more.
A tap on the table in front of him had him groaning quietly and giving the offender a stink eye for making him come to attention. The room was still hazy as he looked upon the kind stranger that had seemingly taken him to his home. He was holding a bottle of water, unopened. The man made a show of opening it, almost comically slow, before handing it too him.
Dick took it with little pretense and gulped it down in one go, which maybe wasn’t the best idea as he almost coughed it all back up. Again, his stupid gag reflex stopped him from throwing up, which he honestly kind of needed. He politely handed the empty bottle back to the man who seemed pleased that he drank it, if a bit perturbed.
The man threw the bottle in the trash by the kitchen before settling into a chair that was slanted toward the empty tv stand, but not before turning the chair to face the couch. Which, fair, Dick kind of did need to be watched a bit. He was still so dizzy and out of it, he would be concerned if he had any wherewithal to care.
The man spoke again, much to Dick’s chagrin, “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
It was posed as a question but the determination behind it made Dick think that he wasn’t taking no for an answer. So Dick acquiesced to the man, he deserved something for helping Dick he guessed. Answers to questions weren’t so hard to give. Especially in his current state. His tongue felt heavy but he didn’t actually feel bad about speaking, almost wanted to actually. This stranger would let him go in the morning and he would never have to see him again. It made him feel free to share, in an odd sort of way. He didn’t know why he trusted this man so much, trusted him to keep a secret or to even let him go, but again, his gut hardly ever failed. Not with how much failure had been trained out of him.
“Sure, I don’t see why not.”
Again, the man looked perturbed, seemingly put off by how ready Dick was to disclose anything. Which, yeah, he should be put off a little too. But he had already hashed that out with himself, so he was fine.
The man took a strangled breath before letting it out slowly, “okay then, umm, what brought you to that bar tonight?”
And Dick thought that was a good first question, not too deep but inquiring just the same, a good place to start.
“I was…down. I needed to let off some steam. I have so many responsibilities. So much to do and remember. So much fucking guilt that weighs me down, gotta find a way to stave it off somehow, ya know?”
The man nodded, “Yeah sure, but what do you have to be guilty about? You’re, well I know you’re Dick Grayson, the golden boy of Gotham. What’s got you down like this?”
Dick frowned at that, the man asked a general question, a good one. But it felt like he wanted to say more. Like there was more meaning behind it somehow. And no he wasn’t the “golden boy of Gotham” no one had ever called him that. Odd. But he responded anyway.
“I’m not just some rich guys ward you know. I’ve lost people, dear people. My parents, my brother, some friends. Its Gotham man, no ones immune to loss, even great old me.”
The man nodded again, a bit more frantically, “yeah I get that, I do, but your brother, he was just some street kid who you barely knew. And you got a new brother pretty fast. Why even list him?”
And Dick almost sat up at that. The gall. But he recognized who he was talking to. A Crime Alley resident, who had probably been told all of his life that he would amount to nothing. And he kept that in mind as he answered, trying not to just rip into him for saying something so wrong. No need to bite the hand that saved him.
“That ‘street kid’ meant more to Bruce Wayne then you could ever imagine. He was his son. He adopted him straight up. He was bright and happy to be in a place that he could thrive. He loved school and reading and he was so passionate about being something more. He was a good kid, a great kid. And yeah, maybe I didn’t know him that well, we only hung out on occasion, I was still a kid myself. Always trying to get out of Bruce Waynes shadow, always trying to distance myself from the man. But I liked the kid, and I…I gave him something special once upon a time. A part of me. And he was so happy to have it…But it didn’t help him escape his fate in the end. Helped it along even.”
And here Dick stopped and lowered his face to his chest, eyes opened again for the first time since he started talking, he focused on his hands.
His voice, even quieter than before drifted between them as he spoke again, “I blame myself ya know. That’s where the guilt comes from. I wasn’t…here…when it happened. I wasn’t here for him. He sent me messages, voice messages, that I still listen to just to hear his voice. He was asking for help. Help with…big things, things that I could have helped with. I could have saved him.”
A tear slipped out as Dick spoke, and he watched with fascination as it hit his hand and flowed down its side. He was almost startled as the man sitting across from him spoke.
“Or you could have died with him. I heard it was pretty violent. The way he went.”
And Dick, well he was about to let out a secret that may get him crucified…
“Bruce probably would have preferred that. He wanted it to be me anyway. Should have been me”.
And the tension in the room just about reached its peak, the man in the chair stiffening so much that his grip on the arms of the chair made it squeak uncomfortably. He tried to focus on the reaction, but his mind just slipped it away. This wasn’t directed at him, most likely.
The man grounded out his next words, “He said what?”
Like it was so unbelievable. Like the actual golden boy of Gotham, Bruce Wayne could never have said that. Which yeah, Bruce probably wouldn’t, but Batman, oh Batman would say it too his face any day. Dick could still see it in how Bruce treated him. Could see it in every interaction that they had. He wasn’t sure if it would ever go away.
He just nodded in reaction, too guilty of his own revelation that he couldn’t say it twice.
And the man stood up stiffly. His face was thunderous, and Dick had the fleeting thought that he might be crucified by this man instead of Bruce for revealing what he did. But the man moved right past him, instead, pacing behind the couch muttering unintelligible things into the void of the apartment.
Dick could have focused on it, could have figured out if the guy was going to get violent. But he just allowed himself to drift. Drift back to the night that changed his and Bruces relationship forever. The night Batman decided that he had had enough of his ward. He remembered the conversation in spurts. His anger that Bruce hadn’t told him about Jason’s death, that he had to learn about it from a newspaper article of all things.
He remembered the blame he tried to pin on Bruce “how could you let him die”. The crack of Bruces fist against his face as he bellowed out that it should have been Dick. That if he had still been Robin it would have been him and not his son.
And another tear flowed out of him, then another, until he was openly crying. But it was silent, so silent except for the hitches in his breath that could have been sobs. He didn’t know how the man had heard them, but he came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Dick didn’t have the energy to even flinch from the surprise contact.
“It wasn’t your fault. God, thats what you should of heard. That’s what you needed to hear. But that bastard…he shouldn’t have said that. It was nobody’s fault. Except the J-the killers. This isn’t on you.”
Dick nodded. But he didn’t really believe him. He didn’t know the whole story, only what the tabloids had posted about the kids death. He believed it was wrong time wrong place. Not what it actually was. A young boy with a mantle that never should have been his to bear, believing in his mother who never deserved him. Believing in his family, that never deserved him either.
The mans hand tensed on his shoulder, as if understanding what was going through his head. Before he sighed and moved back to sit down on the chair he had abandoned. His posture was far more tense than before. It was obvious that he was barely constrained. But he noticed Dicks languid stare and loosened up a bit. As if he was gearing up for an even harder question. Which turned out to be true as he hit Dick with a bombshell.
“Okay, next question that needs answered here. Right now. This is in no way glossing over what Bruce said to you, but to be honest I know you’re gonna come out of this stupor you’re in here pretty soon. And I need an answer before that time comes around. We will be coming back to that though.” A deep breath was taken before he spoke again, much softer and more gentle, “what did you mean by ‘I’ve been mugged, and worse’ especially the ‘and worse’ part. What happened to you Dickie?”
And Dick, well he almost stopped breathing. He had forgotten that he had said that. Jesus, was he just telling his darkest most horrible secrets tonight? Apparently, because his next words slipped off his tongue with ease.
“I think I was…raped. I – I don’t really know. All I really remember was maybe saying no, but maybe it was just in my head. An-and it all happened so fast. I just-I can’t really…”. And the tears were back again. His head found its way to his hands and he scraped them down the length of his face over and over again, trying to remember what had happened. It’d been so long, felt like so long ago.
He didn’t register that the man had leaned forward in his chair, his own hands wiping away tears as his he tried not to get overwhelmed, as he tried to keep listening.
Dick spoke again, willing his words to make sense as he tried to figure out what to say to make it seem like he tried like he didn’t just let it happen.
“I was going through a lot of hard stuff at the time I-I don’t know it just happened. I felt powerless to stop it. I could have though, stopped it. I-I know how to get out of stuff like that. Have been ever since I came into Bruce’s life. I know how to stop advances, I know how to play it off and not make anybody offended by me saying no.” Dicks breath hitched and his first real sob erupted from his abused throat. He kept scrubbing against his eyes as memories flooded back.
“But…this time was different. There was so much going on, so much to deal with. I’d just been a part of something…bad. And the guilt, it was eating away at me. Maybe I thought it was my penance for it all. But I didn’t stop it. I couldn’t do anything. And she didn’t stop there. She couldn’t just take away my consent, she had to keep going. I remember going to motel after motel with her, barely conscious and barely there. Disassociating probably…But then, Bruce called. Gotham was going through a catastrophe that it hadn’t seen in ages. And he needed me. That got me up and out of there. I still don’t know what happened to her. I don’t want too…I just want to forget.”
After his last words he quietly felt himself cry, overwhelmed by the memories of days that he thought he was past. Of some of the worst times in his life.
Again, he didn’t register the movement of the other man, but felt a weight on the couch join him. He sensed the mans hesitance, but it wasn’t long before he pushed through it and wrapped Dick up into the tightest embrace he has had in a long time.
And Dick all but melted into it.
His entire body just went limp in the mans arms, he didn’t have the strength to wrap his own arms around the large, warm body but he dug his face into his shoulder in an attempt to stop the increasingly loud sobs that wracked his body. But it was a losing game, especially at the whispered words that reached his ears. The “it wasn’t your fault” and the “I’m so sorry Dickie” and other choked out phrases that the man just kept repeating over and over. Belatedly he realized that the man was also crying, he could tell in the way he held himself that he was trying to be strong though. Trying not to let himself go like Dick was. And Dick appreciated that small comfort. That he was being held by someone a bit more put together than himself. That he wasn’t alone in his pain but not overwhelmed by somebody else’s.
He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he did remember gentle fingers carding through his hair before everything went dark.
But he woke up to the light of day. The blinds were broken in spots and it hit him right in the eyes, which causes some excruciating pain even with his eyes still closed. With a groan he dug his face into the somewhat soft surface below him. He nestled into it with vigor, finding the perfect spot to both hide from the light and still be able to breath. He let out a sigh of relief. But when he felt goosebumps form below his cheek, that weren’t his own, his breathing stopped. And the entire night before came back to him, well most of it. He remembered the stranger that he was literally sleeping on from the night before. He remembered some of what he said, and he stiffened up even more. He tried to move but the man’s arms were holding onto him for dear life.
He resigned himself to his fate, still feeling no sense of danger, even in an unfamiliar apartment in Crime Alley with a complete stranger. His self-preservation apparently hasn’t kicked in because he lets himself be snuggled for a little bit longer.
It doesn’t last long though, because he soon realizes that he absolutely reeks of alcohol. He can taste it on his own breath. So, with closed eyes he forces his way out of the mans arms with a lot of flailing and strength that he didn’t know he still possessed in his hungover state. Barely able to peak out of his own eyes he blearily looks down at the stranger and takes in what little details he can make out. The same jawline and white and black hair stand out to him again, and he vaguely remembers green eyes from the night before. But nothing else shines out at him.
Grunting with the pain in his head, focused right behind his eyes, he moves toward the only hallway in the small apartment. He tries the first door and is rewarded with a good find, the bathroom.
He doesn’t want to take over the mans space and overstep his hospitality, but good god he needed a shower. So, he decided to be the rudest motherfucker on the planet and do just that. But not before perusing the mans medicine cabinet, but if he was going to be rude he might as well go all out. He found some painkillers for migraines and took four, maybe a little excessive, but his tolerance was through the roof for these things. He popped them like candy when he was by himself, against what Bruce had taught him. Gotta keep up the day life and the night life somehow.
He really tried to not take too long, he really did. But the hot water felt so good on his cooling skin that he might have stayed in a bit longer than necessary. He tried to feel bad but told himself that he would just pay the man for his hot water.
As he stepped out, he looked at his old clothes and shuddered at the thought of putting them back on. He had been staring at them for a good few minutes before a knock at the door made him almost jump through the ceiling. He was really off his game, jesus.
A voice came through the thin door very easily, “I got clothes for you if you want some new ones, I’ll leave them right outside the door.”
He then heard very purposeful footsteps walk away from the door. It was almost funny how hard the man was trying to be heard, if Dick didn’t appreciate it so much. He waited for the footsteps to reach what he thought was the kitchen, if the switch from carpet to tile was in anyway an indicator, before he slowly opened the door and swiped the promised clothes from the floor. It was a pair of black sweatpants and a thick, soft sweater in a quite lovely shade of blue.
He didn’t realize how fast his heart was beating until it slowed as the warmth settled over his shoulders and torso.
He even found an unopened toothbrush and toothpaste in the pile of clothes and gladly turned the water on to get rid of the taste on his tongue and the feeling of crust on his teeth.
Feeling somewhat human again, he emerged from the warm bathroom into the slightly cooler apartment, glad for the sweater in the face of a little bit less heat. He moved down the hallway and saw the back of the mystery mans shoulders, as he apparently made breakfast. He had been right at least; the man did look built through the thin t-shirt that he had on.
All of this should have concerned him, and he was right about to re-evaluate this whole situation as he saw the guns on the walls and bolt. But then the man turned around. And Dick froze. First out of a little bit of healthy fear of what the man wanted from him and secondly as he fully took in what the man looked like.
The strong jaw, the green eyes, the black and white hair, those were all the abnormal details he had noticed last night and this morning. But the shape of his face, the way he peered at Dick almost shamefully under dark lashes, his posture, his eyes, my god his eyes.
And Dick faltered, leaning against the wall as his composure left him, at being presented with a ghost. The ghost of his dead brother. This was no mystery man, this was an apparition, a hallucination brought up by Dick’s sick mind. And that thought that horrible thought made Dick sick. He struggled back to the bathroom and let the contents of his stomach out into the old, wobbly toilet. It was nothing but burning liquid and bile as he coughed and sobbed into it. He flinched as he felt the ghost of a hand rubbing across his back and the tears that had appeared from the violent upturn of his stomach turned into ones that flowed out of horror and fear. Because what the fuck? He had made this all up? He was more gone than he had thought. How could he move on from a mental break like this?
He was simply gagging over the toilet now, nothing else able to come up out of his empty stomach. He felt all of his energy being sapped from him and he simply let himself collapse onto his side. He moved into the fetal position, shielding himself from the world out of muscle memory. Like if he curled up into himself enough everything might just leave him alone, leave him for dead.
But the world didn’t. He still felt hands on him, gentle hands, that shook him softly and he heard a voice. A too quiet voice that he couldn’t truly understand through the rushing in his head.
But after a few minutes he was able to make out a bit here and there a rushed “Dickie?!” or a frantic “please, answer me!”.
And even if it was just a hallucination, Dick felt bad hearing so much worry in his Jaybird’s voice. So, he croaked out an answer.
“I-I’m fine,” a cough interrupted him, “please jay, please leave me alone. I can’t – I can’t do this again. Please.”
And he coughed once more before reforming himself back into the smallest ball possible, almost contorting his limbs and stopping his breathing as his knees dug into his chest.
He heard the voice again, broken and hurt, “I understand, its okay Dick. I’ll leave. I can’t completely leave you alone yet though. You can come tell me to fuck off out of your life when you feel better okay? I’ll know your okay when you do that.”
And Dick heard him leave. Just like he said. It was odd that his mind allowed him this reprieve. But he didn’t care about that right now, he had to get himself under control.
He didn’t know how long he lay there, curled up like that. But he was there long enough for the pain of the position to become almost unbearable. Only then did he loosen himself. He opened his eyes and felt the familiar feeling of pain meds in his system. He remembered that he had taken some earlier. He was glad they helped; glad they took the headache away. To make his mind clearer.
He had heard his older Jason hallucination tell him to come find him once he felt better. So, he did just that. He stood up on shaky legs and stumbled his way out of the bathroom, holding tightly to the walls.
He found himself right back where he had been before, on the cusp of the living room, looking out into the kitchen at the back of his…his brother.
He tried not to lose his mind again as Jason turned around, but the sense of déjà vu was strong and the need to react the same way was strong as well. But like most things in life, Dick was stronger. He stayed standing and looked into those green eyes, wavering just a little.
And then Dick spoke, “I don’t know why you’re here. I thought I was okay. I thought I was okay again. Then you show up and throw me into the worst spiral I’ve had in well, maybe a month. Shit is bad. But this? This is so much worse.”
And Dick saw as Jason’s face fell even more than it already was. Saw as raw hurt flashed in his eyes. And tensed as Jason almost seemed to curl up into himself, in the same way Dick had just done. But he kept going.
“you told me to tell you to fuck off and you would go, so please go. I cant handle this anymore. I wanted to see you so bad, but it hurts so much too. This is what could have been. And its too damn much. So please-“.
But Dick was cut off, Jason had been moving closer and Dicks voice had become more pleading. And then Dick was wrapped up in a crushing hug. And he heard Jason’s voice in his ear.
“I’m sorry Dickie, I am. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear. I just found you and you looked so – so gone. Nothing like the brother I left behind. And I was selfish, and took you here, expecting to help. I’m so sorry for doing the opposite.”
Then Jason was pulling back, hands still on Dick’s shoulders as green eyes stared into blue. Jason grabbed the back of Dick’s neck, squeezing once before letting go, tears forming in his eyes as he turned.
And Dick stood there, shell shocked. He felt the traces of the hug, of the hands on his shoulders, the goosebumps that spread along his neck as a warm hand left it.
And Dick choked on a gasp, a strangled noise, that had Jason turning around once again, concern evident on his face. He looked hesitant though, looking behind him at the door as if unsure whether to leave or to stay. Dick made up his mind for him. He moved closer, daring to hope against all odds. This…could be real. Those touches felt real.
So, Dick moved closer, slowly, so painfully slow. But it was all he could manage, this slowness. He reached out one hand, shaking but steady on its course, and touched Jason’s temple, feeling the sideburns that rested there. Moved his hand down his jaw, felt the short, almost imperceptible stubble. He hesitated on the curve of this maybe Jason’s jaw, but he reached just under it, holding two fingers to what should be a pulse point. He held his breath and almost collapsed again as he felt a steady beat under him.
And now Dick reaches with both hands, cradling Jason’s face, smoothing thumbs over tear tracks. His eyes are wide and his skin was cold and he knew it was pale and he probably looked wild with fear. But…this was real. Jason was real. And Dicks entire world tilted on its axis and settled back into something familiar and warm. A world with Jason Todd in it. A world where he had his first little brother.
And he sighed and closed his eyes as he brought Jason closer, as he folded him into a Grayson hug. As he exuded all of his love and warmth into the man before him. And for the first time in a long time, felt some peace.