Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It's not every day Dick encounters a magical being. 

It’s definitely not every day that the magical being has an interest in him. 

Dick had been interrupting a cult attempt to sacrifice a working girl for their deity or what not in Bludhaven. Dick didn’t really care. He just wanted to stop a person from dying. So, he swooped in and started taking out the cult members. 

The poor working girl gasped as he jabbed and swung, throwing wingdings when necessary. Eventually, it was just him, the cult leader, and the girl. Who the cult leader was holding a knife over. The girl was tied to a table, and Dick stood on one side of the table and the cult leader on the other. But Dick couldn’t free the girl fast enough without the leader stabbing her. And Dick wasn’t taking any chances on the whole summoning thing. Who knows if the g 

“Hey, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Dick says, holding his hands up. He glances at the sacrifice, who’s holding her breath as tears fall. The cult leader snarls. “You interloper! You dare to interfere with the summoning of our god?” 

Dick nods. “Yeah, well, you’re trying to sacrifice a person for your god, and that’s a big no for me, no offense.” 

The cult leader growls and raises the knife. “Our god requires the strong emotions that come with death! And what better sacrifice than a harlot who induces false emotions?” Ok, so they worship some god that deals with emotions. Noted. 

“And are you sure this is what your god wants? I mean, I’ve encountered one or two deities that aren’t big fans of sacrifice despite their followers liking it. Yours could be one of those!” 

The cult leader snarls again. “Lord Zalla will answer my call!” The leader moves to stab the sacrifice, and Dick vaults over the table to stop the knife, tackling the cult freak and sending them both to the floor. Dick tries to wrestle the frankly ornate knife from the leader, but the guy just won't let it go-

Dick lets out a short shout as the knife slices his upper arm. 

Almost as soon as blood wells up, the room glows bright. 

Dick is shoved to the ground as his vision clears, revealing the cult leader on his left, on his knees, looking up at…something. 

It was vaguely humanoid, with long, floor length, multi-colored hair, and six sets of human eyes, each iris a different color of the rainbow. It wore some sort of pale cloak, but Dick couldn’t tell the color. An aura emitted from it, one that was pushing at him, telling him to do not fear, do not fright-

Dick shook it off. He was going to be a bit wary about this…thing. The cult leader on the other hand gasped. “Lord Zalla! You have arrived!” 

Zalla. This must be this guy’s god. Great. Dick sneaks a look over at the still tied up girl, who’s looking shocked. Dick pulls himself up as a voice echoes through the room, despite this ‘Zalla’ not having a mouth. 

You were the one wielding the weapon?

The Cult leader nods. “Yes! Lord Zalla, I have summoned you to aid me in my goal-”

Silence. The cult leader shut up. You wielded the knife, but your blood is not the one that was spilt. You did not summon me.

Zalla turned, looking at Dick. He did. It was his blood that was spilled. That summoned me. Dick tenses, stepping in front of the girl, protecting her. 

“Look, I’m sorry for summoning you, it wasn’t my intention, but I wasn’t going to let this guy hurt this girl.” 

Zalla tilts their head. Admirable. Your emotions are strong. Very strong. Dick suppressed a shudder. The cult leader gasped. “Lord Zalla! I was the one who wielded the knife! I’m the one who worships you! Why are you turning to this-this interloper?!” 

Zalla turns to the cult leader. Enough out of you. Their cloak flutters and the cult leader goes limp on the floor. Dick lets a gasp out and dashes to the guy’s side. Alive, but asleep. He glances over at the girl and sees something similar. 

It was just him and this god now. 

Harmed one. Dick tenses, then points to himself. “Me?” 

Zalla nods. Yes, dear Harmed One. 

Dick frowned. “My name is Nightwing. Why did you put them to sleep? What do you want from me?” Zalla shifts, the aura shifting and pulling back. 

You are hurt. Your emotions are strong, and yet you suppress them. 

Dick lets out a small chuckle. “I suppress my emotions? No offense, your holiness, but I’m pretty well known for being pretty emotional.” 

Zalla shakes their head. You cannot lie to me, Harmed One. I am the GOD of Emotions. I can sense your Anger, your Pain, your Fear, your Grief, your Loneliness. 

Dick tensed. Ok, so this isn’t great. Zalla continues, their aura pulsing. It swirls up and bubbles, but you hide it. Your force Happiness and Joy, while you suppress your true feelings. But those emotions are strong. 

Dick stood up, taking a deep breath. “Ok. Maybe I do suppress my emotions. But it’s not like I’m always unhappy. I do feel happy sometimes.” When he hangs out with his friends (Who aren’t talking to him right now), when he hangs out with Damian (And his other brothers, who also hate him) he feels happy. 

Zalla nods. You do. And those emotions are strong as well. But when is the last time you truly felt those emotions? 

Dick paused. When was the last time he felt truly happy? Not worried about his other siblings, or Bruce, or the world-Dick sighs. It's been a while. Since before Spyral. Since before he died. 

“It’s…been a while. But why is this important?” Dick refocused before he got too upset. This wasn’t the time to be distracted. Zalla got closer to Dick, who tried to take a step back, but couldn’t. What? You are in pain, Harmed One. You, who clearly tries to do good, should not be in pain from your own emotions. You should not Fear your family, you should not Hate yourself, you should not Grieve your siblings who distrust you and do not know the truth. 

Dick suddenly couldn’t breathe. “How do you-” 

Your blood summoned me, Harmed One. It gave me your emotions and why they are the way they are. It gives me an understanding of your plight. 

Dick shook his head. This was wrong. He needed to leave, to get these guys out, to hit his emergency beacon- But would anyone come? Jason, Tim, Babs, and Cass hated him. Steph didn’t talk to him either, Dick didn’t know Duke well enough, Damian couldn't leave Bruce’s side and Bruce-

Dick would rather die than be near Bruce again. He couldn’t, he couldn’t-

Zalla’s aura spread and the cloak seemed to move. Harmed One, you are in so much pain. You do not deserve this pain. 

Dick lets out a gasp. “No, I-” Zalla shakes their head. You do not need the pain that these emotions give you. But I can fix this. I can make it all better. 

Dick froze. “What? What do…What do you mean?” 

Zalla tilts their head again and meets Dick’s gaze. They looked caring. You are a good person, Harmed One. You shouldn’t be in pain. I can remove that pain for you. 

Dick blinks. It was hard to think. Zalla was all encompassing, and his emotions were running high. He felt devastated, worried, scared, and sad. Oh, so sad. It was painful. His family didn’t want him, he faked his death after all (Even though he didn't, and Bruce forced him to go undercover). His friends were either dead or hated him (When was the last time he talked to Garth? To Gar, to Raven, to Vic?). He had no romantic partner (He was a slut, a whore, a cheater, he was poison-)

He was poisonous. Poison. So why? “Why? Why would you-you offer this?” 

Zalla looked at him kindly as tears started to drip from his eyes. When did he start crying? You are a good person, Harmed One. And a Good Person should not suffer these pains. Will you let me take them? Your Painful Emotions?

Dick took another shuddering breath. He shouldn’t. There was a catch, there had to be. But it hurt. All of this hurt. He didn’t want to be in pain anymore. He didn’t want to keep waking up alone in his apartment. Didn’t want to keep seeing his family have fun on patrol together without him. Didn’t want to cold glares and burning words, didn’t want to keep feeling-

“Please.” 

It was a single word, a plea, slipping through his mouth unbidden. Zalla nods. 

And so, it will be so, dear Harmed One. 

The cloak wraps around Dick and the aura surrounding Zalla glows brightly. Dick lets out a gasp as he feels something touch his head, his mind. It felt weird, awkward. But at the same time, smothering and covering. Dick’s eyes start to droop as magic envelops him. He should be scared, right? But he didn’t. That was nice. 

Sleep, Harmed One. 

Dick nods. Sleep sounds nice. Really nice. When you wake, you will be better.

Dick’s eyes slipped closed, and Dick felt Nothing. 

Chapter Text

Jason had been lounging in his (New) room in the manor when he got the notification. Now that he’s staying permanently in the manor, there was no way in hell he was staying in the fucking time capsule that was his old room. Alfred had offered to help remove some of the things in there to let Jason do his own thing with the room, but Jason refused. 

There was just something…off about sleeping in the room of a dead kid. Yeah, he was the dead kid, but it was still just weird. So Jason took one of the few remaining family bedrooms. It was smaller than some of the others, but it was still huge. 

Anyway, Jason was reading in there when he got an alert on his phone. 

‘Cell A has been entered.’ 

Jason immediately shoots up out of his bed. Ok. Shit. As he’s dashing out of his room, Barbara calls him. “Jason did you-” 

“Yep, on my way. Me and Alf will handle it.” 

“Got it. Be careful.” 

Jason nods as he enters Bruce’s office and activates the door to the hidden elevator. “You know me Barbie, I’ll be fine. ‘Sides, it's not like he can hurt me.” Barbara hums, clearly upset. 

“I know that. Doesn’t mean there isn’t a chance…” 

Jason nods and enters the elevator. “I know. It should be fine.” 

“Alright. Good Luck, Jason.” 

Barbara hangs up and Jason shoves his phone into his pocket as the doors open to the Batcave. Alfred is already there. 

“Master Jason.” 

Jason nods as he walks past towards the cells. “Have you seen him yet?” Alfred shakes his head. “I got here just a few seconds before you, Master Jason.” Jason nods as he turns into the cell area and stops. 

In the first and most secure cell that wasn’t deep in the caves, was Dick. 

He was deathly pale with black veins running across his skin. His hair was cut in a pseudo-military style and his eyes shone a bright yellow.

Dick was standing at parade rest in the middle of the cell, facing the entrance. Off to the side, Jason spots the necklace with the glamor charm on it. Zatanna gifted it to Dick after they got him back from the Court of Owls. 

They had kidnapped him and turned him into a Talon. At the worst possible time, with Bruce being dead. It took the combined efforts of Jason, the bat crew (minus Tim and Cass who were off doing their own shit), Superman, Wonder Woman, and Martian Manhunter to get Dick back to mentally normal and get the Court destroyed. 

But physically, Dick is still a Talon. They haven’t found a way to reverse the damage the electrum did to the Talons. So Zatanna gave Dick a glamor charm. 

One that was on the floor. 

Jason straightens his body, channeling his ‘I’m the boss, fucking listen to me’ mode and walks up to the glass. 

Dick tenses minutely as Jason walks up. “Owl.” He says, toneless. Shit. Dick is really down in it then. While Martian Manhunter was able to bring back Dick’s memories and personality from the Court’s meddling, he wasn’t able to fully remove the brainwashing. For the most part it’s gone, but every so often, when Dick gets really triggered, he’ll revert back to Talon. 

When Dick gets like this, he thankfully doesn’t go back to his last order before they saved him, which was Kill the Batfamily. Instead, Dick-Talon treats the family like they are the Court. The working theory is, that with Dick’s memories back, whenever Dick goes Talon-mode (As Steph likes to call it) Talon-Dick takes those memories and treats them with the mindset of ‘That’s the Court, I have to obey them.’ 

And as such, Talon-Dick refers to the family with Court terms. And for some reason, Talon-Dick refers to Jason as his ‘Owl’ or ‘Head-Owl’. Which was the term used for anyone who wasn’t a Talon or the Grandmaster, who was the absolute ruler. 

So Jason was the ‘Head-Owl’ of the family, the person Talon-Dick immediately refers to as his leader and Master. Kate was ‘Second-Owl’, Alfred was ‘Aide’, and the kids were the ‘Owlets’. The Titans and the League were simply referred to as ‘Honored Guests’. And Bruce…well, despite him being dead as a doorknob (No matter what Tim says, Jason doesn’t really believe that Bruce is ‘lost in time’ or whatever, but hey, we all grieve differently.) Talon-Dick calls Bruce the ‘Grandmaster’. Which was really awkward, but hey, it is what it is. 

Was it creepy? Yes. Did referring to himself and the others with Court of Owls terms feel like shit? Also yes. But they learned the hard way that when Dick was like this, telling him that they aren’t his Court and that he’s not a Talon is not a good idea. So the best bet was to play along, until Dick came back to his senses. Talon-Dick was basically a trauma response, and it was better to play along, within reason. They pretty much treat Talon-Dick like a normal person, and that helps him ease back into normalcy. Or Dick’s version of it. 

Jason takes a deep breath. “Talon.” Jason tries to look Dick in the eyes as he continues, but Dick keeps his head down. “Why are you in the cell? You were supposed to be in a meeting.” Jason held back a wince at how disapproving he sounded. He didn’t mean for it to happen, but Dick was supposed to be in a meeting with some Wayne Enterprises shareholders, on a video call of course. 

Dick nods. “Talon was. But one of them mentioned doing a gala to honor Julian Harris.” Jason paused. Julian Harris. Who was that? 

“And who is that?" 

Dick kept at parade rest as he spoke monotony. “Julian Harris was an avid protestor of ACE Chemicals and an environmentalist that provided money to Wayne Enterprises and other organizations that didn’t follow the Court’s plans. They were disposed of.” 

Oh. Now Jason sees. 

“They were one of your…targets.” 

Dick nods, keeping his head down. “Yes, Owl.” 

Jason saw what probably happened now. The shareholders mentioned Julian Harris, Dick remembered that he killed Harris, probably was freaking out for the rest of the meeting, and when he was done with the meeting, he went Talon-mode and went to the cell. This cell, which Jason had Ordered Dick to go to if he went Talon-mode in the Manor or Cave. 

“Ok. How do you feel, Talon? About all this?” Jason asked. He needed to get a feel for Dick’s mindset right now. Jason already figures that he’s pretty down deep. But depending on what Dick says, Jason will have a better feel for when Dick will snap out of Talon-mode. It’s happened a lot these past few months, so Jason’s getting pretty good at reading this stuff. 

Dick tenses a bit. “Talon doesn’t-Shouldn’t-” 

Jason unclenches his hands. “You can tell me. You aren’t broken for having feelings.” 

Dick paused, quickly glanced up at Jason before shooting his head down. “Talon is…upset. Angry at…Talon. At Court.” Jason nods, gesturing for Dick to continue. He idly notices that Alfred isn’t there anymore, which means he’s probably getting some blankets and such for Dick. Dick continues. 

“Talon…killed. Talon is…angry that Talon killed.” Jason nods. 

“Can I come in, Talon?” Dick blinks and stares at Jason, finally lifting his head. After a few seconds of silence pass, Dick nods. Jason nods back and starts to unlock the door. “I’m coming in, Big Bird.” 

When Jason enters, Dick looks lost. Jason gestures to the cot in the cell. “Let's sit down, ‘kay?” Dick nods and Jason helps sit Dick on the cot as Alfred comes in with a blue fuzzy blanket. “Here you go, sirs.” 

Jason gives a smile. “Thanks, Alf.” 

Alfred nods. “It is no problem, sir. Unfortunately, I do have to go and pick up Sir Damian. Will you be able to handle things down here?” Jason nods. When Dick is like this, Alfred refrains from calling anyone ‘Master’ because it can make going back to normal harder for Dick. 

“Go ahead. Dickiebird seems fine.” Alfred nods and gives a smile to Dick, before turning and leaving. Jason wraps the blue blanket around his older brother and watches as Dick grabs the edges and pulls the blanket tighter around him. The first time one of them gave Dick a fuzzy blanket he looked so shocked. It was back when he hadn’t gotten his memories back, and didn’t remember being Dick. So having a comfort like a $15 fuzzy blanket from Walmart made Dick look like he was in heaven. 

And that had hurt everyone. Because such a simple comfort had been stolen from him due to the Fucking Court of Owls. Jason clenched his fists and took some deep breaths, pushing away the green creeping at the edge of his vision. He can’t have a pit episode right now. Jason sits next to Dick and keeps silent. 

Dick didn’t need to breathe. But that didn’t stop the inherent fear Jason had whenever he looked too closely at Dick without his glamor charm. The charm created an illusion of what Dick looked like before being Talonized, and even included ‘breathing’. But the charm can only visibly disguise things. For all intents and purposes, Dick was still physically a Talon. If someone grabbed his bare hands while Dick was disguised, they would still feel the deathly cold hands that Dick had now. 

Thankfully, handwarmers and gloves seem to be enough to off-put most people to the truth. Dick shifted, growing tenser and curling in on himself a bit more. “You okay?” Jason asks, refraining from saying Talon or Dick. This seemed like Dick was getting back to himself, but Jason didn’t want to push it. 

Dick blinks. “Little…Wing?” 

Jason nods. “Yeah, it’s me, Big Bird. You comin’ back to me now?” 

Dick pauses, then nods. “I was…in a meeting.” Jason nods. Dick continues. “And they talked about…about someone who I-Who I-” 

Jason nods. “Yeah. You came down here, did exactly what you needed to, Big Wing.” Dick tenses again and wraps his arms around his knees. 

“I was doing so good.” He whispers and Jason gets it. It’s been nearly a month since Dick went full Talon mode, and three weeks since he went slightly bird-brained and wanted everyone to be really close. It looked like Dick was doing a whole lot better. 

“Hey, we both know recovery ain’t linear, big bird. You got triggered. God knows it still happens to me.” And it was true. Jason definitely still had Pit Rage Episodes where the green covered his whole vision and all he could think about was revenge-death-slaughter-pain. 

Dick scoffs. “But you haven’t had one in forever.” 

Jason snorts. “Two months ain’t exactly forever, big bird.” 

Dick finally looks over at Jason, his shining yellow eyes glaring at him. “That one doesn’t count. It was-It was that day.” 

Jason shakes his head. His last pit episode happened on the anniversary of his death, when he was already high strung and not in a good mood. He had gotten into an argument with Kate and Dick over going out on patrol, and while in hindsight, Jason understood that he was not in the mindset to go out as Red Hood or Batman, it had set him off in a full rage pit episode that ended up with Dick pinning him on his back with a knife to his throat and his spine, ready to slice into his skin. 

Safe to say, it hadn’t been a good day for any of them. 

“Pretty sure it counts. ‘Sides. If that doesn’t count, this doesn’t count.” 

Dick frowned. “But it wasn’t an-it’s not like that. I just…it wasn’t- I did that.” 

Jason sighed. Dick hasn’t really said much on the people he killed as Talon, so it’s hard to say if he remembered all his kills or not. Personally Jason was in the belief that Dick remembered who he killed, but was suppressing thinking about them, for his own mental safety. “You weren’t in your right mind, Dick. May I remind you, you were brainwashed?” 

Dick groans, looking back down at the floor. “But I still did it. It was my body, my hands. I did it and-” 

Jason paused. “And?” 

Dick shook his head. “They were a good person, Jason. A good person and I killed them. I killed them with-” Dick froze and put a hand over his mouth. Jason frowned. Here was another thing that sucked about all this. Dick hated talking about his kills. Yeah, he’d confirm if a mysterious death was his ‘doing’, but he never really talked in depth about it. 

“Dick.” 

Dick shook his head. “I can’t, Jason. I can’t. If I told you what they made me do, you wouldn't look at me the same.” 

Jason shook his head. “You know that’s not true, Dick. None of us would.” Dick just shook his head again. 

“I can’t Jason. Please, don’t make me.” 

Jason dropped his shoulders. “I won’t. I promise.” 

Dick leaned toward Jason, setting his head on Jason’s shoulder. “Thank you.” Dick whispers in Romani. It was one of the few words Jason knew in Dick’s mother tongue. He didn’t respond, and instead wrapped his arm around Dick. 

The two brothers sat in the cell in comfortable silence.

Chapter Text

Dick grips the gun in his hands tightly. 

He had to do this. 

It wasn’t that hard.

“Kid.” 

Dick flinched, then looked left towards the voice. 

Slade Wilson stared at him. “You’re hesitating.” Dick clenches the gun tighter. “I know.” 

In front of Dick was an unconscious man. A human trafficker, the worst of the worse. The man was drugged to unconsciousness; he wouldn’t be waking anytime soon. And when Dick pulled the trigger, he wouldn’t wake up ever again. 

Slade tuts. “It doesn’t seem like you’re up for this, Kid. Maybe you should just-” 

“I can do it!” Dick says, raising his voice. It wasn’t a shout, but it was close. He had to do this. It was just pulling a trigger. He could do it. He’s shot a gun before. Bruce taught him and Slade expanded on it. Slade looks a mix between annoyed and apprehensive, which normally would make Dick laugh. Not right now though. 

Not when he was about to end his first life. 

“Then do it. Remember, Grayson. You asked for this.” Slade says calmly. 

And he was right. Dick did quite literally ask for this. He stormed up to Slade’s safehouse and produced a whole contract about Deathstroke teaching him how to kill. He signed a legal document saying he would be Deathstroke’s protege/apprentice for two years. In return, Slade would teach him how to kill the fucking Joker so thoroughly that he’d never come back. 

But to do that, Dick needs to kill this man. 

As poetic as it would be for Dick’s first kill to be the Joker, Dick needs the skills to effectively kill the clown in as many different ways as he can. Slade can teach him that. He is teaching him that. All he needs right now though…is to pull the trigger. 

“Grayson. Either pull the trigger or hand me the gun.” Slade demands and Dick keeps his grip on the gun. He raises it, aiming at the head. He’s seen the aftermath of a person’s head being blown out. It won’t shock him. 

We don’t kill. Bruce had told him. We don’t play the executioner. 

But maybe they should have. Maybe Bruce should have put the Joker in the ground the moment he created the Joker gas. Maybe he should have killed Scarecrow the first time Dick got dosed with Fear Gas. 

Bruce doesn’t kill. 

But other heroes do. Wonder Woman has killed, Kori has killed, Hawkwoman and Hawkman have killed. There are dozens of heroes who’ve killed before. Dick is just going to be one of them. 

And it’s not like Bruce will know. He hasn’t talked to Bruce in months, not since he got kicked out of the manor with a bruise on his cheek. He’s only talked to Babs twice and both times she’s been distant. Or maybe he was. Anyway, it’s been a bit. Dick also hasn’t really talked to the Titans much as well, beyond a few team ups as Nightwing for cover's sake. What the world mostly knows is that Nightwing is dark after the death of Robin. No one, not even those in the hero community could expect that the beloved first Robin was training to be a contract killer, of his own will no less!

All he had to do was pull the trigger. 

Pull the trigger and truly start working on making sure the Joker never hurts anyone again. Making sure that Jason was avenged. 

Dick took a deep breath. 

This was for Jason. For his little brother. For his family and the world. 

Dick pulls the trigger. 

BANG!

Chapter Text

Barbara is going to kill me, Dick thought as he less than gracefully stumbled into his apartment. It’s been nearly a week of chasing down a pair of serial killers in Bludhaven. Nearly a week of Dick running on the lowest amount of sleep possible while trying to stop this pair on top of normal patrols and his job at BPD. 

Add on the fact that even with the help from Babs, Tim, and even Jason of all people, they haven’t caught the two yet, it’s been stressful. Dick stumbled into the kitchen to stuff his face with a bagel and then try and get sparse out more information from the list of potential suspects Jay sent over-or was planning to send over? Dick wasn’t sure. He couldn’t remember if Jay had already dropped off the files for the possible killers or if he was doing it later. 

As he grabbed the bag of bagels from his cupboard he heard something. 

Drip, drip, drip

Dick blinked and looked at the sink next to him. It didn’t look like it was leaking.

Drip, drip, drip

He ran his hand underneath the faucet to see if maybe he just didn’t see the water, but no, the faucet was dry and had the feel of slightly rusted metal. The sink wasn’t on. So why was there…

Drip, drip, drip

Dick turned to look around. Maybe he missed something or-

Oh. 

Dick dropped the unopened bag of bagels and they fell to the floor as he tensed. Standing across from him, dripping, was Jason. 

Or…something that looked like Jason. It was dressed in the old Robin suit that Jason wore during his tenure of the name, but it was ripped and charred, soaked with blood. Jason’s face was caved in, blood pooling from the large gashes that adorned his face. The blood drip, drip, dripped from his face and pooled onto the ground in front of him. 

Dick watched as the blood wove its way through the carpet of the living room and the tiles of the kitchen to stop at his feet. Red, red, red. Drip, drip, drip. 

Dick looked back up at ‘Jason’. 

Why was he…like that? Jason wasn’t like that, anymore. Jason was alive and taller than Dick. Bulkier too. So why was a bloody 15-year-old Jason here and just staring at him? Dick glanced around, and caught a post-it note on the fridge, marked by a cute bear magnet. 

‘Remember to pick up your meds! Babs and Donna will kill you if you don’t! -Dick’ 

Oh. 

Oh yeah. 

Dick ran a hand through his hair. That’s right. His anti-psychotics. He had been running low on them and re-ordered them. But he never picked them up. He was surprised with the case as Officer Grayson and has been hyper focused on it since. He totally forgot to pick up his meds. Dick blinked, trying to ignore the dripping in his ears and the red pooling around him as he walked to the fridge to look at the note. 

When did he run out of his meds? When was the last time he took them? Why hasn’t Babs said anything? Or did she? Dick can’t remember. It’s all a blur due to his lack of sleep. Dick froze and watched as the hallucination of Jason, Halluci-Jason he sometimes called it, slid up next to him and grinned. Blood gushed from the gaps in his teeth, pouring onto the floor. 

God, he was usually on top of taking his medicine. Usually he sets alarms, multiple alarms, and always fills up his day of the week medicine holder. And if he doesn’t, usually one of the Titans or Barbara makes sure he did. 

They were the only one who knew after all, besides Leslie and his Jump City Psychiatrist who prescribed the meds for him. The Titans were there when Dick first started having complex hallucinations, going from hearing random everyday noises and seeing movement out of the corner of his eyes to having full on conversations with people who weren’t there. They got him to a psychiatrist who after some trial and error, got a medicine that worked for him. 

Leslie knew because as the Wayne family doctor, who also helped with vigilante injuries, it would be safer for her to know he’s taking medicine so that anything she might give him won’t act poorly with his anti-psychotics. 

Babs found his pills on a day when she came over, after Dick had been acting suspicious after forgetting to take his pills for two days. She berated him for not telling her or Bruce, but eventually acquiesced into not telling Bruce or any of his siblings. He didn't want any of them looking at him different, and didn't want to be benched. 

Because when he took his medicine, he was a normal person. Or as close to normal as a vigilante ward of one of the richest men on earth can be. It was when he forgot to take his medicine that…this happened. 

Dick crumpled up the note and turned to leave his kitchen. He’s fine. He can ignore the blood squelching from his feet, can ignore the feeling of hands digging into his skin and the blood dripping down his shirt. He was lucky that this hallucination wasn’t talking. It always made ignoring them a lot harder. But Dick’s got years of ignoring hallucinations under his belt. He’s got this. 

And then he tripped on something, it rolling as he fell. The bagels. Shit. Dick crashes onto the tile floor with a thud, landing on his stomach. Dick groans in pain and goes to turn around onto his back, tilting his head back against the floor. Honestly, Dick wanted to just go to sleep right there in the middle of his kitchen. He was so exhausted. But he couldn’t. Not with the blood pooling around him and Halluci-Jason crawling towards him. 

Crawling towards him with a bloody grin. Dick stares, frozen, as the hallucination starts to grab his legs and pull them together. 

“Wait-what are you-” What is it doing? It moved forward and sat on top of Dick’s legs. 

Dick shuddered, immediately feeling sick. Same position, same position as her, as Cat- Dick shook his head frantically. 

“Get off, get off, get off me-” He said, trying to sit up. Jason shouldn’t be sitting on him, not like this, not while blood dripped onto Dick’s suit, tainting it with the blood from Blockbuster. “Please, get off, please, Jay-” Dick’s breathing was coming faster now, and he scrambled to force Jason off of him, despite the blood on his hands.  

Jason’s grins spread to the edges of his cheeks as blood dripped, dripped, dripped. Dick shook his head, begging. “Please, get off me, get off me, get off me-” Not his little brother, please, Jason can’t be doing this to him, he couldn’t.

Dick looked around for something, anything to get this bloody and broken version of his brother off of him. 

Something silver glimmered on his left. Dick grabbed it. It was a table knife. Why was a knife on his kitchen floor? Jason shifted above him and suddenly it didn’t matter. Jason was on him, the blood was soaking into his clothes. Blockbuster’s blood was dripping onto him and it was covering Jason and he was grinning like her and he couldn’t take it-

He jabbed the knife into Jason, and he didn’t flinch, just kept grinning and Dick stabbed again and again, because he needed it to stop, to stop stop stop stop-

Dick heaves and sobs as he watches the light in Jason’s eyes fade. 

No. 

No no no no-

He-He just killed Jason. Oh god he killed Jason. 

He killed his brother, his little wing.

He watched as Jason goes limp and falls off Dick. He hovered over the body. He’s dead. Jason’s dead. He killed him. He killed Jason. 

Dick sobbed over the body, time an illusion. He killed his brother, he killed his brother-

“Dick?” 

Dick kept crying, petting the face of his dead brother. He shouldn’t touch him though, Dick killed him. 

“Dick, what the fuck are you doing?” 

Dick felt hands on him, pulling him away from his brother. Someone found him, someone saw what he did. They’re here to take him away. Good. He deserves it. Dick kept looking at his brother, the blood covering the kitchen. 

“Dick, fuck, what the hell is going on?!” 

Dick blinked. “I killed him.” 

The hands on his shoulders tighten. “What?” 

“I killed him. I killed my brother.” 

“Dick, what the actual fuck are you talking about?” 

“I stabbed him- He was on me and he wouldn't stop and I killed him.” 

One of the hands moves from his shoulders to his head, gently turning it away from the corpse. Dick couldn’t see who was holding him, everything was blurry. The person tilts Dick’s head around, looking for something. It didn’t matter. He was going to prison anyway. 

“Dick you aren’t going to prison. You didn’t kill anybody.” 

Dick blinked. But he did. He killed his brother, his little wing-

The person makes an aborted sound and stops moving Dick’s head around. “Dick. Dick who do you think I am?” Dick shrugs. He’s past caring at this point. He’s tired. He’s a killer. He just wants to be put away, never to be heard from again. 

“You’re here to take me away, I guess.” 

The person shifts and sighs. “Dick, I’m not-Jesus when was the last time you slept, Big bird?” 

Dick flinches. Jason called him Big Bird a lot. But Jason was dead. He killed Jason. “Fuck, shit-I don’t-” The person shifts, lifting Dick up as they both stand. “You-You are going to bed.” 

Bed? Dick can’t do that. Dick shakes his head. “You need to-need to take me away. I killed him.” Dick mumbles. The person sighs, moving one of Dick’s arms. 

“Jesus fuckin’- you dind’t kill anyone Goldie. I’m alive and fine.” 

Dick shook his head. “No, no, I killed him-he was bleeding and was on me and he wouldn’t stop-and I killed him.” The person groaned and started walking, leading Dick away from the crime scene, from his brother. But the blood followed, dripping into the carpet and the walls and everywhere-

He’s placed on something soft, and the weight of the person leaves. Dick flops back, unable to keep himself upright. “Fucking hell, Dickface. I knew this case was messing with you but Jesus Christ." 

Case? What case? It didn’t matter, not when there was blood everywhere and shadows were swirling and he was so tired-

“I want to sleep.” He mutters, staring at the ceiling. It was amazing how the blood didn’t fall into his eyes. 

“Yes! Please do!” The person said. “Jesus Fucking Christ Dickhead, go to sleep!” Dick narrowed his eyes and tried to sit up. Why would they want him to sleep? Yes, Dick was tired, but why? Why would someone want him to sleep when the world was full of blood and corpses and so much worse? 

“You-You-why are you…” Dick blinks. He’s so tired. Too tired to fear the blood around him. 

The person walks forward and lightly pushes Dick toward something. His head hit something soft and comfy and nice, before something warm covered his body. Dick’s eyes fluttered, sleep taking hold of his mind as the person ran his hands through Dick’s hair. 

“Get some sleep, big bird. I’m going to handle this shit.” 

Dick blinked, then murmured, “‘k.” 

He was so tired but he needed to say something. Something important. 

“‘M sorry for killin’ you Jay…” 

Dick’s asleep before he can hear the response.

Chapter Text

In one of the empty women wings of Arkham Asylum was an inmate who was not on the roster of inmates. Only four people knew he was in that empty cell, and only three of them knew why he was there.

He killed the Joker. 

Dick Grayson, Nightwing, killed The Joker. And now he was in Arkham Asylum, paying for his crimes. 

He’s been in here for almost a year, ever since he beat the Joker to death. Bruce, fuck Bruce, had stormed his apartment the next day and drugged him. When Dick woke up, he was here in a cell in the abandoned Women’s wing in Arkham. Dick remembers going over Arkham’s blueprints over the years, and how this old women's wing used to be used up until the 60s before being abandoned for the fancier part of Arkham. It hasn’t been used in years, and there aren’t even guards in this part of the asylum. 

Which made it the perfect place to hide a person you don’t want anyone to know about. Which worked, for the most part. 

As far as Batman knows, only two people knew Dick was in here, himself and the Head Warden, Argus Lupin. Batman didn’t want Dick dead, apparently. Just rotting away in an abandoned cell slowly going insane from the isolation until there was nothing left of the person he used to be- Sorry, that was way too off topic.

The point was, Batman wanted as few people to know about Dick being in Arkham as possible, so only told the Head Warden so that he could give Dick food. Blatantly ignoring the fact that Argus Lupin fucking HATED vigilantes. Many times during delivery of food, Lupin stated how he was glad at least one vigilante was locked up, and how he couldn’t wait to get the others in here too. 

And it wasn't like Batman was unaware of Lupin’s biases, Lupin has been Warden since Bruce’s second year of being Batman, and made his opinions very clear. Unfortunately, no one else wants to take a job at the worst criminal asylum in the world (As surveyed by Daily Planet!), so they had to deal with Lupin for years. 

Yet Batman was fine leaving Dick in the clutches of the Warden. Over the past year, Dick’s been thinking about how there were so many other options that his former mentor could’ve taken. He could have turned Dick into the Justice League, he could have banished Dick from Gotham, he could have let Dick actually go on trial for killing the Joker. 

There were so many other things he could have done besides tossing Dick in an abandoned cell. But he did. And all because Dick broke Bruce's one rule. And it wasn’t like the Joker didn’t deserve it. The point was, Dick was in Arkham, and only four people knew he was here. 

Batman, The Warden, and-

“Dickie!” 

Dick looks up from where he was sitting on the cot, as Harley Quinn slips into the cell from a sizable crack in the wall that holds the door. Dick gives a small smile. Harley Quinn knew he was here. Her and Poison Ivy knew he was trapped in this abandoned plot of the asylum. On the first Arkham breakout after the Joker died, only two and a half weeks after Dick was tossed in here. They had gotten lost (Harley’s fault) and instead of getting out of the asylum, found Dick instead. 

They’d been so shocked to find Nightwing in a cell that they totally forgot about escaping and got caught by the Warden. But they came back after sneaking away at night a few days later, to demand answers. And Dick gave most of them, like how he got here, and how he was the one to kill the Joker. 

Harley had been overjoyed at the fact and-

“Yoo-hoo! Dickie! Ya in there today or are ya in your own world?” Dick focused back on Harley, who was sitting crisscross applesauce on the floor. Dick gives a shrug. “My mind’s…wandering.” Dick whispers. Harley nods, then grins. 

“You wanna hear what Eddy did earlier today during arts and crafts?” Harley asked, leaping to her feet. Dick gives a nod. Harley grins. “Ok, so! Eddy’s workin’ on one of those fortune cater thingies, ya know, like kids in school made?” 

Dick blinks. “The…cootie catcher? You’ve mentioned it.” 

Harley lights up. “Yeah! So anyway, he's been makin’ a pretty big one and stealin’ all the construction paper and Croccy was working on somethin’ that needed construction paper too and-” Harley keeps rambling, but Dick’s mind starts to wander again. 

Both she and Ivy have sacrificed a lot for Dick. They used to escape together, once they actually got together. But when they found out Dick was in here and not leaving, they started escaping separately. One would stay behind and keep Dick company, and the other would go out and do whatever they want. They never got to go out and just…be together outside of Arkham. Because of him. 

But despite all they sacrificed for Dick, he’s really glad they’ve been here. Without them, Dick probably would have killed himself months ago. 

He was trapped in an asylum in an abandoned wing, where practically no one knew he was here or that he was even alive, and isolated. Dick was a very social person, so this was already torture, not even counting and prolonged isolation is torture. The only person he would have seen would be the Warden and he was cruel and only talked if wanted to threaten his family. 

And…

Dick didn’t have his medicine. After being exposed to mind-altering poisons, pollens, and toxins since he was 8, his mind got a side effect. Hallucinations. They weren’t that bad, most of the time, just the normal things like bugs and shadows and occasionally blood. But on very rare occasions, they’d be something from Scarecrow’s fear toxins. 

Which is why he took an antipsychotic. Taking the medicine helped him be normal outside of really bad days or Fear toxin attacks. But here, Dick doesn’t have access to his medicine. The warden definitely won’t give him the medicine, and Harley and Ivy couldn’t steal some from the medical office without stealing another inmate’s pills or getting sent to solitary confinement for a day or two as punishment. Dick couldn’t have that happen to the two people showing him kindness. So Dick suffers. 

All of that combined probably would have pushed Dick to take his life sooner rather than later. But the two women gave him so much help in just keeping his head above water. 

“Dickie!” 

Dick jolts back to reality when Harley flicks her finger against his forehead. “You’re zonin’ out again.” 

Dick nods, rubbing his forehead. “Sorry.” He mumbles. Harley’s face falls into a softer smile. “It’s fine. It’s one of those days, huh?” Dick nods. 

Harley sits next to Dick. “Don’t you worry. I’ve got you.” 

Dick groans as he wakes up, immediately more aware. Two days since Harley last visited, and today seemed like a ‘good’ day. Good as in: He’s not hallucinating and is pretty in touch with his emotions. He feels like he did when he was on his meds. Which was nice. ‘Good’ days like this are becoming rarer and rarer as time passes. 

But being clear of mind means that Dick is a lot more angry than usual. Angry at himself, at Batman, at the world. And who wouldn’t be? Being betrayed by his mentor and former father figure for killing one mass murderer and then thrown in prison? Not to mention! Batman absolutely faked his death! 

Harley and Ivy had come in with a newspaper one day about six months of being in here, showing the headline of ‘Richie Wayne dies!’ on it. Coincidentally, that was the same day that they figured out his identity. 

Dick slides out of the cot and starts stretching. He can’t exactly go back to how he was before, but on his good days, Dick tries to do the exercises he could do back when he was a practicing vigilante. He can’t do all of them, trapped in the small cell like he was, but it was worth a shot. 

As he stretched, Dick hummed a song from the circus. God, he missed the circus. Sometimes he wonders if he should have moved back to the circus the first time Dick was kicked out. That could have stopped a lot of issues. 

Dick moves to stretching his legs and starts reciting square roots. Keep his mind off the inherent horror of being betrayed and tossed in the worst place on earth. He passes his morning like that and when Dick hears footsteps coming toward his cell, Dick immediately goes to sit on the floor, covering his face with his long hair. 

He lost his mask months ago, but his hair was reaching down to the middle of his back now, so it was long enough to hide his face from his visitor. 

“I’ve brought your food, Vigilante.” Dick holds himself from tensing at the voice. Argus Lupin, the Warden. A tray of food slides through the slat in the door. “Try not to eat it all at once. Or maybe do. I could care less.” Lupin remarks. 

Dick doesn’t move toward the tray. Lupin continues. “By the way. Poison Ivy was reinstated into the asylum this morning.” Dick froze. Ivy was back? It’s been at least three weeks since Ivy escaped. “It seems she was caught by the other vigilantes. It’s a shame that you weren’t out there too, isn’t it?” Dick ignores the backhanded jab Lupin gave him. It was normal now, for Lupin to jeer at Dick. Dick was more excited about Ivy coming back. 

“Fine. I will see you tomorrow.” Lupin walks away and Dick grabs the tray. There’s a granola bar, a bottle of water, a wrapped sandwich and a pack of ramen. Low stuff today. Sometimes Lupin will bring food from the cafeteria, but not today clearly. 

Dick grabs the granola bar and eats it, drinking some of the water from there. Ivy is back after three weeks in the city. She’s been working on something, clearly, but neither Dick or Harley had any clue what it was. Maybe she was dealing with some company being anti-environment again? 

But Ivy is back now. And Dick is grateful. He missed her. And he’s sure Harley did too. Dick puts the leftover food on the cot and goes to try and do his more advanced moves. Dick’s been in here for nearly a year, fed food that can barely be constituted as meals, and has been dealing with his mental condition (Which can leave him bedridden from how bad the hallucinations can get). All that combined took a heavy toll on Dick’s physique, and made it hard for him to do moves that only a trained vigilante could do. 

Which was probably part of the plan, if Batman had one when he tossed Dick in here. Make him waste away and lose his ability to go out on the streets and help (or hurt) if he ever got out of the asylum. 

And you might be wondering, why doesn’t Dick just escape? There’s a big crack in the wall that lets Ivy and Harley get in and out of the cell, so why can’t Dick escape?

Well, he isn’t an idiot. He knows that Batman is keeping an eye on him for any sign Dick tries to escape. If Dick escaped, Bruce wouldn’t hesitate to hunt him down before he got far, and that's if he isn’t caught beforehand by the Warden, who he also knows keeps an eye on Dick’s cell, or the outside of it.

And if he did somehow escape both the Warden and Batman, Batman could easily figure out that Harley and Ivy were close to Dick during his time at Arkham, and…Well, Dick would like to say he wouldn’t hurt them, but…

He tossed Dick in here for killing The Joker. Batman’s only visited Dick once in the past year, and it was only a cursory check in; Batman never said a word while Dick begged to come home. (Dick was never closer to killing himself than that night)

The point was, Dick couldn’t be positive that Batman wouldn’t permanently hurt the two people who cared for him if Dick escaped. And Dick couldn’t take the chance. So he never leaves. He doesn’t escape. He just lets himself go deeper and deeper into true insanity so that no one else close to him will be hurt. 

Dick stops and leans against one of the walls, running a hand through his greasy hair. Dick knew he looked like shit. The Warden only dragged him to the showers once a month, content to let him wallow in how filthy he felt. Dick’s hair was long and greasy, he’d lost a lot of weight, and according to Harley and Ivy, had massive bags under his eyes. A far cry from the person he used to be. 

Dick watched out the small barred window as it got dark. Harley and Ivy should be here soon, if they aren’t held up. They can’t visit everyday, but hopefully today?

A half-hour passes before he hears footsteps. “Wingding!” Harley says as she slips into the room. Dick stands up. “Hey Harls.” Harley grins. 

“Pam! Come on!” Harley calls as Ivy squeezes through the crack. 

Dick grins. “Ivy! It’s good to see you!” 

Ivy smiles and holds out her hand for a handshake. Dick takes it and uses it to give her a hug. She chuckles. “It’s a good day then?” Dick nods. On his worse days, he’s not big on touch. 

“Yeah. It’s really good to see you, Ivy. It’s been a while.” Dick says as he exits the hug. He idly notices Harley flitting around the cell, peering out the window. Ivy nods. “Yeah. Sorry about being out for so long. I’ve had some…things to take care of.” 

Dick waves her off and sits on his cot, next to the food from this afternoon. “I get it. I’m sorry for getting in the way of you being outside more.” 

Ivy glares a bit. “That is not your fault, Dick. You know that we both don’t mind staying here.” Dick sighs, but nods. Sure they say they’re fine with it, but they're still sacrificing their freedom for him and he feels horrible for it. 

Harley nods, but keeps looking out the window. “Yeah! Ya know if we didn' wanna be here with ya, we’d leave!” She pauses. “Not that we will! We ain’t leavin’ you alone in here with Mista Watch Dog as your only source of entertainment!” Dick huffs a small laugh. Harley’s been exclusively calling Argus Lupin ‘Watch Dog’ after Dick told her that the Wardens name roughly translates to that. 

Ivy rolls her eyes. Dick tilts his head. “What are you looking for, Harley? All that’s out there is the sea, you know.” Harley pauses. Something was up. Did something happen in the main area of the asylum? Was Harley homesick?

Ivy sighs. “She’s just bored. She’s been with me since I got out of processing and the guards are a bit too lax this week, so…” 

Dick snickers and nods. “Fair. But you do realize that you’ve been gone for three weeks? Of course she’s going to want to stick by your side.” Ivy nods. She moves to lean against the wall across from Dick. 

“So. Tell me how you’ve been. I’ve gotten the gist of the normal stuff in Arkham central, but I want to hear from you how you’re doing.” Dick smiled and started talking about some of the moves he’s been able to work on when he wasn’t bedridden or lost in his hallucinations. He didn’t talk about those, partially because Ivy already knew about them and partially because Dick doesn’t like talking about his mental illness.

Before, only Babs, Donna, Wally, and Kori knew about his condition, besides his psychiatrist from Jump City that prescribed him the meds. He really didn’t like telling anyone because he was worried he was going to get called crazy or something. Well, to be fair, he is now in Arkham Asylum, but that had nothing to do with his diagnosis.

Dick kept talking about some of the moves he wanted to work on in the future when…

Dick froze. “Do you hear that?” Ivy had tensed up too. Harley steps back from the window. “It sounds like…helicopter blades.” 

And that was all Dick could say before the wall facing the outside exploded. 

Dick coughed as dust and rubble flew and alarms started blaring. “What-?!” Dick starts to shout as the dust clears. A gaping hole in the wall showed the outside, and a sleek black helicopter hovering right outside of the hole, its door open and a figure hanging out of it. 

“This the place?!” The figure shouted over the alarms and Dick froze. 

The Red Hood. 

He showed up about two months ago, and Dick, who had heard the name, had freaked out. What if this person was another Joker wannabe? Harley had volunteered to check him out and had come back with a, “He’s good, for now. We’re keeping an eye on him though.” And Dick had left it at that. 

So why-

Why was he here?! 

Ivy stepped forward and Dick grabbed her arm. “What the hell are you doing?!” He asked and Ivy gave an apologetic look, before turning back to the Red Hood. “Do you have it?” She asked, and the Crime Lord nodded. 

“Sealed up nice and tight, just like you left it.” He tosses something from his jacket and Ivy catches it. That doesn’t-What the hell is going on? Did Ivy and Hood work together?! 

“Ivy-” Dick started and Ivy turned back to him. In her hand was a jar, with a blue flower in it. “Ivy-what’s going on? Why is the Red Hood here?! What’s happening?!” 

Ivy sighs. “He’s here to get us out. All of us.” She emphasizes and Dick flinches back. 

“No, no you can’t. Ivy, I can’t-Batman, he’ll-” 

Ivy removes the flower from the jar, and it wraps its roots around her arm. “Dick. We won’t let him find you. I promise.” Dick shakes his head. No, of all people, Ivy should know why he can’t leave. 

“Ivy-please!” 

Ivy shakes her head. “I can’t. You’re suffering, and I can’t let that happen any longer.” 

Dick heaves breaths, all the noises loud but all he can focus on is Ivy and the flower. “Ivy-” He sobs, but Ivy blows into the flower, sending polled straight into Dick’s face. 

Dick gasps, trying to hold his breath- She just pollened him. Why? “I-Why? Ivy, I-” I trusted you. He wanted to say, but he was feeling tired and his eyes were closing against his will. His body goes limp and Ivy catches him. 

As sleep starts to claim him, he hears, “You’ll be safe, Dick. I promise.”