Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dick hummed under his breath, even as his breath was more of a wheeze. But he grit his teeth, forcing his cheeks to perk up with practiced ease as his brain chugged just a few beats too slow.

His hands were warm, both from the steady pool of crimson destroying brilliant blue, and from the trembling form cradled in his arms, tremors as they pressed steadily staining fabric against his ribs. It hurt, but not as much as the look on their face.

“Are you hurt?”

Damian's head shot up, a look torn between utter fury and despair leveled him a glare. “I- Richard im- fine- how can you even- you’re the one whose hurt!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Dick tried to joke. Maybe it would have worked on someone else. A wet chuckle out of Tim, definitely a laugh from Jason. But this was Damian, his so- babiest brother.

Damian who looked even more heartbroken, whose shoulders shook as if his very bones were protesting against the truth.

“It's okay…” Dick tried instead, lifting a hand to card through soft spikes, but paused. His palm was bloody.

Damian, uncaring, practically yanked his hand forward, ignoring the smear against his head and cheek. His eyes never once leave Dick’s.

“Its not it's not okay…” Damian shuttered.

Dick glanced to the side of the otherwise empty warehouse, where among the shattered crates Bane's looming figure remained crumbled against the concrete below. He was pretty sure Damian had killed him.
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He wasnt sure if he really cared.

“-ARD Where is your med kit!?” Damian's shrill demand pulled him back in the moment. “These scraps are not enough an- and I don't have more”

Where- it? Right. It was in the batmobile. Two blocks down.

“Its too far, Dami listen I… you need to go,”

“What!?” Damian hissed, horror now leaning into fury,“I will not move from this spot until backup arrives.”

Right. Dick vaguely processed. They hit the emergency beacon. But- how long would that take? Coms were down- hell who knew if they were even coming. Surely they'd come for Dami in the aftermath but…

“They’re coming.. Soon” If his steady blinking beacon had anything to say, comms were out though. There was no knowing for sure.

“How soon? ” He demanded. It sounded bratty, but Dick knew thats just Dami’s worried tone.

He was right to be anyways. Damian wasnt wrong. Dick knew injuries, he knew impalements - and he knew the moment he felt the rebar slip between his ribs and Bane all but tear him off, his odds were lower by the millisecond.

“And when they come, Dami I… I don't want you to see”

“See? See what- I have- witnessed an emergency trachea before, I have reset bones, rearranged guts, I can handle whatever procedure they have”

“No no I know that I mean…” Dick sucked in a breath and regretted it watching a new wave of blood spill onto the garment Damian still kept pressed tight.

“Then explain yourself.”

Dick didn't want to say it. How could he? How could he ask Damian not to watch him die? To admit the raw truth of the situation.

Another time, he would have smiled and changed the topic. But he didn't have time

“Because I have seen people die Dami…” The words, too blunt, too real, elicit a flinch from Dami, the first movement away from him.

“...And I can't let my face haunt you. ”

Damian shook his head, feverously, practically burying his cheek into Dicks palm. When had he moved his other hand?

“No. n-no they’ll be here, they’ll save you they- they always do- I won't lose you,”

Dick tried to shush him, but Damian's voice only reached a new pitch. “I CANNOT lose you- you you’re the only one- you’re my-” Damian cut himself off with a hiccup.

Emotions were about the only feelings he could well, feel anymore, they hurt, but he let himself feel, let himself let go and lean into Damian's warmth as his own was fading.

“Dami… Its okay you… you have them you-”

“NO!” Damian yelled, his hands pressing harder against the bloody cloth, “I want you you promised me!”

“You promised you would not leave- not like my mother, or father- you would stay!”

Dick let out his own little hiccup, carefully tracing bloody palms across cheeks plump with baby fat now smeared red. Part of him wondered why he was placed on the same height as Bruce, part of him was too tired to think about that.

“I know.. I know baby bat… but I can make a new promise,”

“I don't want a new promise” Damian sobbed, “I want you- I need you- I cant.. Baba please dont leave me”

What?

“B-baba?” Dick asked, but froze as his chest seized. He lurched forward, heavy coughs racking through his body as he shook in place.

Damian screamed, he sounded underwater. Dick removed his hand from Damian, covering his mouth as he felt splatters of warm blood squelch between his fingers with every heave.

By the time his vision cleared he could pull together enough clarity to look at the scene in front of him. Damian, pulled on his lap, discarded bloody clothes surrounding them and scattered in the growing red slick. More clothes in his hand, pressed tightly against Dicks chest, the pain nothing compared to the look on his face.

It was a look he’d seen so often. In the mirror, everyday after Bruce was rescued. After he went “home” a place that felt so empty without what he'd come to claim as his own.

Without his baby bat, his baby.

Of course only now the puzzle clicks into place. That it was real, he wasnt alone, that Damian missed him just as much, missed what they were- what remained, still saw him as…
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Dick remembered hearing the crunch, the sound of four hundred and twelve bones colliding with the floor faster than his mind could comprehend. He didn't remember climbing down.

He remembered the gurgle, the blood, the twisted limbs reminiscent of the contortionists, but the whimsy was gone with the look of distress in their eyes seeing him looking back.

They were silent, the blood filling their mouths. Dad’s brilliant blue eyes turned gray first. He’d taken the fall for them both, catching Mom, even in the end.

Mom looked at him, her dark brown eyes surrounded in a halo of curls so like his own. Somehow, she managed to speak, and he remembered those words.

“… my little Robin,”

Dick hadn't looked away, he wished he had long since the first night he saw those twisted pale faces and empty gazes in his darkest nights.

He gasped, back in the moment, his own little robin trembling at his feet. Dick could feel himself fading faster by the moment. He didn't think he could be pulled back again.

“Dami?” No response. “Robin?”

A shutter, Damian met his eyes, big fat tears streaked down from wild emerald eyes. Each drip turned red long before they joined the floor.

“You’re… my little Robin, always were, always… will be” Dick coughed, reaching down to pull Damian's hands from the wound and pressing them to his own cheeks.

“ And- I will always be your Baba… that won't change, even now”

Damian collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, any care for Dicks injury gone, instead fixating on pulling Dick so tight as if trying to crawl under his very skin.

Dick didn't mind, he never minded, he didn't mind from the times when even a brush without a knife was a gift.

Because that's what Dami was, his little gift, his Robin.

With shaky hands, he wiped away streaks of steady tears, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead and ignoring how his chest seized in place. Weaker though now, even his muscles are beginning to fail.

He understood why his Mom hadn't sent him away, begged him to leave, to run, to close his eyes, because he had his fathers eyes, and her wild curls. He was her baby- and she wanted one last look.

“Please don't cry little Robin, my baby…” Dicks vision was going in and out. But he fought to keep them open, to look at his baby, one last time.

Damian met his gaze, his mothers eyes, and blood coated did little to hide his fathers dark spikes.

But that hug? The way his arms held in place, even with all its desperation, adjusted perfectly so? That was all Dick.

“I l-love.. you baby…”

“I- love you.. Baba”

Dick felt his head meet the floor, no longer able to keep himself upright. His vision was gone, but he could still feel that bit of warmth curled around him.

“...my little Robin”

The last words left his lips, and with it, his final breath. The Flying Graysons, a trio once more.