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It’s supposed to be a quiet night.
But it’s Gotham, the city and quiet don't go well together. Same goes to being a vigilante.
They had found out that Scarecrow had been making his goons smuggle his latest new fear toxin while his ass is in Arkham.
All of them were helping out, including Jason and himself. Dick isn't supposed to be in Gotham until the weekend but Bruce had called him for help, how was he supposed to say no?
“Is that the toxins?” Red Robin quietly piped up as the goons were pushing crates into the warehouse. They all stood in position, ready to drop in at any moment on Batman’s cue.
“Affirmative. There's about three crates filled with them,” Oracle informed them. “Should I call Spoiler and Orphan for backup?”
“No need. We can handle this,” Batman grunted. Dick guesses that the reason why Bruce didn't want to call in the girls is because they were having a sleepover with Babs later on. A softy.
“Alright. If you need anything, I’ll be here. Oracle out.”
A few moments of waiting, Batman finally gave the green light to move. One by one, except Nightwing, they all dropped down onto the unsuspecting goons.
“Bats!” A goon warned the others and they all quickly got into action.
Once all the goons were distracted, Nightwing dropped behind the crates, prying them open. “Oracle’s right, there's a shit ton of Crane’s newest fear toxin.”
“Is she ever wrong?” Red Hood retorts and Nightwing makes a small hum, agreeing with him.
“Be careful, N. We don't know what's in them and how it will affect a person. The antidote we have for the fear toxin might not work,” Red Robin informs.
“Careful’s my middle name,” Nightwing quips back, stealing one of the many fear toxins to take a sample of and slips it into the hidden pocket of his suit. He could practically hear his brothers rolling their eyes.
“Got it,” he informs them, quietly slipping away to join the fight. He’s gotta be extra careful to not accidentally smash the canister or he'll be fucked.
He definitely jinxed himself as a goon, who is almost as big as Red Hood, threw him against the wall. He could hear the loud ‘crack!’ as the canister that was in his pocket was smashed open, the green fumes oozing its way out of his pocket.
“Fuck me,” Nightwing groaned, trying to hold his breath as much as he could with a bruised rib and he scrambled for his rebreather.
The good news was none of his family were close enough to get a whiff of the toxin.
The bad news is that he was too late to put on his rebreather and his vision blurred, his breathing ragged and heavy and his hands started to shake.
He’s definitely fucked now.
“Wing?”
Nightwing snapped his head to the voice— his body bloodied and bruised, bones jutting out of the skin. He turned to look away but regretted it when his eyes fell upon another small body; a hole in his chest.
He turned again— a burnt body and a body who had a slash along his neck, still bleeding profusely. Dick resorted to shutting his eyes, letting out a pained whimper.
A hand placed onto his shoulder and he could feel a small pinch in his arm. He violently flinched back, his body hitting a wall behind him. “Hey! Hey, N, it's okay, it’s just us.”
“You’re— you’re all dead,” Dick whispers feverently, curling into himself as he buries his hands into his hair, clawing his scalp. Hands pulled them away but Dick shook them off.
“The antidote is not working. We need to get him back to the BatCave,” a voice— Bruce, commanded.
But how can it be Bruce? He’s dead. He’s never coming back. Dick saw him die, just like how he watched everyone around him die.
Dick dared to peek open his eyes but Bruce’s body is still burnt to crisps.
He squeezes his eyes shut again, hoping to get the image of his family out of his head, his vision, everything.
Did he die? Did Dick finally join his family?
Or were the demons that haunt him every night finally out to get him?
He felt a tug on his arm, trying to get him to stand but he yanked his arm away and turned around.
And Dick ran.
“Nightwing!” Voices shouted from behind as he continued to run. He doesn't know where he’s headed, he just knew he needed to run.
When he eventually got tired, he found himself in an alleyway. Dick took out his grappling gun from his side and aimed it at the ledge of a rooftop. But as he grappled up, he saw two bodies flying past him— falling to the ground.
He barely made it to the rooftop as he turned around quickly to identify the bodies. Did they commit suicide or were they pushed?
Dick froze when he saw the bodies.
“Mama? Papa?” He breathed out heavily as his parents' cold gaze landed on him. Dick felt like the eight year old kid who had witnessed his parents’ death again.
“Why didn't you save us, our little Robin?”
Another body appeared behind them— Wally’s flickering body, staring at him so coldly that Dick had to shut his eyes. He stumbles back, away from the ledge and his body hits against a wall. A huge, breathing wall.
Dick snapped open his eyes and whirled around, his hands flying to his escrima sticks that were holstered behind his back.
The wall transformed to the Jason he knew all too well— his little brother who is all bloody and bruised, died horribly in the hands of the Joker and Dick wasn't there to save him.
He wasn't there for his brother.
Dick wasn't there for his Little Wing.
Nightwing wasn't there for Robin.
Dick Grayson wasn't there for Jason Todd.
He wasn't there for his brother.
“Dickie,” Jason says softly but all Dick could hear was the voices telling how much he had failed as a brother. “You’re okay. You’re fine.”
“I’m— I’m sorry, Little Wing. I— I’m sorry. I wasn't there for you. I’m so so sorry,” Dick sobbed, wrapping his arms around his body, somewhat to comfort himself.
Jason tried to reach out to him, but Dick flinched away. “Whatever you’re hearing or seeing isn’t real, you got gassed by fear toxin,” Jason gently informs.
“I’m sorry,” Dick choked out, his voice hoarse and cracking. “I should've been there to save you. All of you. But I— I couldn't. Everyone around me keeps dying and I couldn't save any of them.”
Gentle hands pry his own hands away from his body. But he couldn't yank it away, the hands were holding him firmly.
“Hey, Big Bird, I’m here, I’m alive. Remember? Look,” the hands guided his hands to their chest and Dick could feel their heart beating rhythmically in their chest. “See? I’m alive. Everyone is alive. We need to get you back to the Cave to administer the antidote, alright?”
He couldn't say anything else as his vision blackened and strong arms caught him before his body could hit the ground.
Dick snapped his eyes open and he lurched forward, breathing heavily.
When he managed to calm down, he realised he was in his room at the Manor. “How did I…”
Weren't they trying to take down Crane’s goons? But why didn't he remember anything?
…Oh. Oh. He got hit by Scarecrow's newest concoction of fear toxin.
“Fuck,” Dick mumbled, scrubbing his face. As he was about to get out of bed, it was only then that he noticed he wasn't alone.
Tim and Damian were sleeping on either side of him while Jason was seated on his loveseat, asleep. From the way his neck is hanging off awkwardly, Dick could tell it’s gonna ache. Bruce was nowhere to be found.
“Dick?” The man snapped his head to Tim, who had just woken up, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “You feeling better?”
“I guess…” Dick muttered, his throat feeling dry. Tim took notice of this and turned to the nightstand, holding out a glass of water for him. Dick gave him a small grateful smile as he took it, taking a sip.
“You gave us all a heart attack, Dick,” Tim joked before quietly adding on. “You were really deep in it. We couldn't get through to you for a while. It… it was hard to watch.”
“I’m sorry,” Dick murmured. “I didn't mean to—”
Tim cut him off, shaking his head. “You don't have to apologise. It wasn't your fault. You got hit.”
He nodded, swallowing hard. “What… what did I do?”
“You kept screaming about how we were dead and how you couldn't save us… and your parents,” Tim replied softly. “You also kept apologising. It was like you were trapped in your worst nightmares all at once.”
“Oh,” Dick breathes out, itching to apologise again for scaring his family. “Did the antidote work?”
Tim hummed. “The first time it didn't work. Bruce managed to create a new one but we had to wait until the old antidote was flushed away from your body completely before administering it. You were unconscious the whole time but you kept screaming. Jason was the one who found you, and said you blacked out. You’ve been for almost a day.”
“Yeah, had to carry you to the Batmobile and to the Cave but you wouldn't stop moving. Earn a couple bruises— you tried to fucking punch me in the face a few times too,” Jason added on as he wakes up from his sleep, his voice deep and tired. He feels bad.
“Sorry…” he whispers quietly but Jason waved him off.
“Nah, it’s fine. A few bruises won't kill me. At least we know you can still fight when you’re unconscious,” Jason jokes, making Dick chuckle softly.
From the other side of him, Damian stirred from his sleep, rubbing the remaining sleep from his eyes. “Richard?”
“Hey Lil’ D,” Dick smiles at him, patting his head gently. Damian shifted until his head was laying on Dick’s lap. He could tell he had scared the teen.
“I am glad you are alright now, Baba.”
Dick smiled softly before turning to his other brothers who were watching fondly at the scene. “Where’s B?”
“Alfred made him go to bed. He’s been up the entire time, waiting for you to wake up. But we told him we would stay just to ease his mind and because we were worried about you too,” Tim replies, leaning against Dick’s side.
“Akhi, go inform Alfred and Father about Richard’s wakening,” Damian commanded. Jason huffed.
“You're only telling me to go because I’m the only one who's not snuggled up against Big Bird,” Jason glared half heartedly and got up from the loveseat, making his way out of Dick’s room to find Alfred.
Dick sat with his younger brothers in silence, his left hand holding Tim’s while the other carded through Damian’s hair.
A few moments passed and Alfred, Bruce and Jason entered the room. Jason settled himself next to Damian who scooted a little to give him space to lay down while Alfred placed a tray of breakfast for him on the nightstand. Bruce hovered near them.
“Are you feeling better, Chum?”
Dick hummed and nodded. “Yeah. Sorry for giving you guys a scare.”
Bruce shakes his head, walking over to Dick to place a small peck on the top of his hair. “It’s fine. We’re just glad you're okay and not hurt anymore than you already are.”
“How are your ribs?” Alfred chimed in.
He scrunches his nose, moving his torso slightly. “It's a little painful to move but otherwise I’m fine. Nothing I can't handle.”
Alfred hummed in acknowledgment. “You would definitely feel better after breakfast and some painkillers, Master Dick.”
But Dick’s already feeling better with his family by his side, despite some people missing.
“I’m sure I will,” he says with a smile.