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Everything hurt.
That was the first thing Dick became aware off.
Everything hurt.
His head, his legs, his arms… it was dark when he blinked his eyes open, and the air tasted stale and dusty when he forced himself to breathe through the pain. Fuck. Something was… something was wrong. It wasn’t just the headache piercing his skull that clued him in on that, no, Dick could feel concrete pressing against his back, could feel stones covering his legs.
What had happened?
Why was…?
Dick forced himself to remember. It was nearly impossible to focus on anything, the pounding in his head like a sledgehammer, but Batman hadn’t raised no quitter. Dick was… he was… he’d been at the mall! With Damian!
It was the second Sunday of the month, and as per the agreement Bruce and Dick had, that meant that Damian stayed with Dick for the entire weekend (and, yes, sometimes it was weird that Dick and Bruce had a formally signed contract that declared both of them Damian’s guardian, with shared custody and shared parental rights.) When Damian arrived at his doorstep late on Friday, Dick had promised him a day at the arcade… at the mall… with a big garage…
Images filtered through his head. The two of them laughing when Damian destroyed this unknown kid at Cheese Viking, Damian declaring himself too good for curly fries before stealing almost half of Dick’s, Damian smiling his proud little smile as they made their way back to the car, the ground shaking and rumbling and breaking apart, Dick reaching for Damian in a panic…
Damian!
Where was he? Where was his son?
Panicked, Dick tried to see, tried to open his eyes even wider, but only darkness greeted him. Darkness and pain. His head banged against the stone burying him, and another wave of agony crashed over him. He felt… not good. Through forceful lungfuls of air, Dick tried to catalogue his own injuries. It was better to focus on the pain, than to imagine all the horrible fates that could have befallen Damian. Quite literally, seeing as the garage over their heads had caved in.
His left leg was pinned and probably broken. Dick was almost glad that he couldn’t see the extend of the injury, the pain was already enough. His other leg was also… rather limited in its movement, and Dick could feel scrapes and burns and bruises all along his back. He might have some internal injuries, judging by the pain lacing through his stomach, and his head… well, Dick would be lucky if it was only a moderately severe concussion.
Dick forced another breath into his lungs when he heard it. A soft whimper. A soft whimper Dick knew too well.
“Damian?”
His voice sounded horrible. Scratchy. Weak. Nothing like Batman, not even close to Nightwing. He didn’t even sound like a dad/brother, right now. No, Damian could probably hear the panic and pain cursing through Dick’s veins.
No answer.
Dick waited for another painful couple of seconds, before he tried again:
“Damian? Can you talk to me? Please?”
Dust cloaked the back of his tongue, and Dick had to cough, the motion sending spikes of agony through his entire chest. Definitely a few broken ribs then. Good to know.
Desperation crawled up his throat, and Dick wanted to swallow it back down, really, he wanted to remain strong… but what would he do if Damian was hurt? Or worse… what if Damian was dead? No. Dick couldn’t- He wouldn’t allow himself to think like that.
Damian had to be alright. He just had to be okay.
Dick couldn’t live in a world in which that was not the case.
“Damian? Please?”
“You are crushing me…”
Finally, an answer. Sobs of relief wrecked Dick’s already broken body, but he couldn’t stop himself. Damian was talking. Damian was fine. Or… well, Damian wasn’t dead. And by the sounds of it… Damian’s voice had been frighteningly close. So close, in fact, that Dick imagined tiny puffs of air dancing over his face.
“Are you- Are you alright, Dami?”
“What happened?”
“Answer the question… please… and then I’ll answer yours.”
It hurt to talk, but now that Damian was awake – alive! – there was nothing that could stop Dick from continuously spilling words or reassurance. Of relief.
“My… My arm is broken, I think. And… it hurts to breathe. I cannot move. You are… you are crushing me, Richard. What is going on?”
Ah.
So, Dick had managed to grab Damian and curl up around him, before the building had collapsed in on itself. Before they’d gotten buried alive. Which explained the strain on his arms… and the pressure against his back. Dick’s body was Damian’s last line of defense against the crumbling concrete around them.
“Earthquake” Dick managed to say. It wasn’t much of an explanation. Damian seemed to think the same.
“What?”
“Earthquake. We got hit by one… Not sure if its natural or… supernatural… but we got caved in. The parking lot… it… we… We’re buried.”
Silence fell over them both. Damian was probably calculating their chances. The boy was clever and intelligent beyond imagination, so Dick knew that Damian wouldn’t like the conclusion he would undeniably reach.
Their chances were… bad. At best. Horrible, if worse came to worst.
There were news stories out there, about people surviving being caved in for days if not weeks. But judging by his own injuries, Dick seriously doubted they would be one of those stories. To survive an earthquake of this magnitude, you had to get lucky. The space you got caved in needed to be big enough, filled with air to breathe, and water to drink. Your injuries had to be… minor.
Damian and Dick hadn’t gotten as lucky.
No, what they got was each other.
Damian laid underneath Dick, pressed against stones and broken pieces of concrete, while Dick tried to keep as much of the pressure away from him as possible. Some air had to filter into their alcove, considering they were both still alive, but other than that… it was hard to remain hopeful.
They had no water, and no idea just how severe their own injuries were. If the agony pulsing through his veins was anything to go by, Dick knew just how slim his own chances were.
But… but Damian had to survive. Dick was okay with himself dying, had been since he first donned the cape, but he couldn’t… Damian had to survive.
And, hey, maybe their chances were better than anticipated! They were in Gotham after all, and ever since No Man’s Land happened, the city had really invested in earthquake prevention and emergency equipment. Maybe they would get saved. Maybe they would survive.
Dick just had… he had to focus on the hope. It was important to stay positive. The moment you allowed the depression to seep in, you had already lost – it was a sentiment both Batman and his mother had taught him. Their words had carried different connotations, of course, but the sentiment had been the same: you have to trust in yourself to achieve anything. Be it survival or a quadruple flip on the trapeze.
“We can do this. We just have to… we just have to wait until the rescuers reach us… do you think we can do that, Dami?”
“How hurt are you?”
Of course, Dick’s perfect little boy would ask this. Damian had always cared more for his family than for himself. Not that it mattered right now… Dick was the guardian, Damian the kid.
“That’s not-“
“How severe are your injuries, Richard? Tell me.”
But then again… it was hard to argue with Damian, when their bodies were this close, their fates so horridly tied together.
“I… I am pinned. Concussion, internal bleeding… a few broken bones. I’ve been better, Dami. But I’ve also been worse. I- We both have survived worse, Baby Bat. And we will survive this, too. We have to.”
Tears spilled from Dick’s useless, useless eyes. It was dark, there was nobody here to see his desperation… but Damian could hear it. And Dick tried, okay? He tried to stop crying, he tried to remain strong. It was just so hard sometimes. He didn’t want to die, especially not next to Damian. Just because he was fine with it in theory… the real thing was always something else, huh?
He was doing his best to cling to hope. And Damian knew that. Maybe that was why the kid said nothing about the tears he must have undoubtedly felt dripping down onto his face.
“And we will, Richard. We are Batman and Robin. We are the best. As if a measly earthquake could slay us.”
There was a quiver in Damian’s voice. He sounded so young… so brave and strong and wonderful. Dick had never been prouder of his son. Not for the first time Dick wished he could see Damian, could hug him, and tell him everything would be alright, without having to lie.
“Of course not. We stole cookies from Alfred. An earthquake is nothing compared to his wrath.”
Dick did his best to continue the joke, ignoring how it fell flat.
It was getting harder and harder to breathe, the pressure on his back and ribs increasing. Or maybe… maybe Dick was just growing weaker. He was exhausted, after all. Exhausted and in pain. So tired… But no. Dick had to stay awake.
For Damian.
For himself.
For their family, who would be unable to cope with losing both of them at once.
“Exactly. And we can’t give Bane the satisfaction of dying like this. After so many attempts to kill us, it would be rather pitiful to die next to some concrete and between some crushed cars…. No. I am too proud to die like this.”
Dick could hear the pain in Damian’s voice. He could hear the desperation and the fear and the… well, the stubbornness. Damian was a proud kid – with horrible insecurities – and if it was Damian’s pride that forced him to remain strong, well… Dick would never complain about his mule headedness ever again.
They just had to survive this.
It was easier said than done.
As time passed them by, words got harder and harder to grasp. Dick wanted to comfort Damian, wanted to ease his suffering, but it was hard to think when the world was literally resting on his shoulders. He finally understood Atlas… hopefully the Titan had been allowed to rest every now and then.
If he did… Dick had no such luck. He just had to carry on.
Sometimes Damian told Dick things, small facts about his favorite birds, or why he thought that Todd should become a dancer, and Stephanie a witch. It was easier for the boy to talk, than it was for Dick… the stones resting on his back slowly seeped the last of his strength away.
“Are you listening… Richard? Are you- Are you listening?”
“Sure… sure, kid.”
Dick had no idea what Damian had been talking about, but he knew instinctively that Damian would only be more scared, should Dick fail to answer at all. This was better, even if Dick was just mumbling assurances. Even if Damian knew he was lying.
“They have to come soon, Richard. I am sure they will reach us any moment now. Father knew about your plans to take me to the Arcade. He must know where we are. Batman will not stop in his search until he has reached us. I am sure, Richard. I am sure.”
They both knew Damian was lying. It was okay. He wasn’t the only one after all.
“You’re safe… you’re safe, Baby Bat…”
“Stop saying that, Richard. I need you… I need you to focus. Stay with me.”
Dick trusted Damian with his life, but it was hard to stay alert, when everything was just so painful. Maybe if he slept the world would stop crushing him. Maybe if he closed his eyes, everything would be easier to bear.
“Stay with me, Richard! You want to keep me safe? Then stay alive, for fucks sake!”
“Language…”
“This is not the… not the time for this…”
His son was crying, a distant part of Dick noticed. His Baby Bat was crying. Dick couldn’t… he shouldn’t… he wanted to comfort him so badly, but his body wouldn’t respond when he urged it to move. Everything was just too heavy.
“It’s alright… you’re alright… you’re safe, Dami… you’re safe…”
“No, I’m not. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you, Richard…”
Damian was crying harder, sobbing, and there was nothing Dick could do to comfort him. He desperately wanted to brush Damian’s hair away from his eyes or rub the tears away with his thumb… but he was caught. He was dying.
And Damian would be forced to sit by and let it happen.
“I’m so sorry… I’m… I love… I love you…”
“Don’t say this… no, Richard… please, don’t…”
Dick fell silent shortly after, the edges of his vision turning grey. He was… fading… slowly slipping away… slowly turning into dust.
His thoughts were slow, Damian’s faint cries only an echo… there was… darkness, but Dick could have sworn it was slowly lifting.
There was nothing… and then:
“Help! Help! My brother! My dad… I think he is dying! You have to help us! Please! Please! You have to help us!”
When Dick opened his eyes a week later, and saw Damian sitting next to his hospital bed, he couldn’t say who was more surprised. Dick was alive. Damian was here.
They were both smiling, even if Dick’s grin was laced with pain, and Damian’s lips were weighed down by sorrow.
They were both smiling – they were Batman and Robin, after all. They were the best.
They were alive.