Robin (Dick Grayson) One-shots

No Pressure

AN: VERY IMPORTANT – REFERENCES OF NON-CON/RAPE ALSO JUST A HECK TON OF TRAUMA, THIS IS JUST A DICK GRAYSON TRUAMA CHARACTER STUDY BUT IT'S ALL COMIC CANON COMPLIANT SO TAKE THAT AS YOU WILL

"So what, this is it then? After all we've done together? After all I've done?"

"Dick, you nearly died out there. You're too young for this. I can't let you keep risking your life. We can end it here. Let the world think Robin is dead."

Dick hated the way Bruce said those words – cold and detached as if he wasn't trying to rip away part of Dick's identity. It wasn't just the suit. Bruce wanted to take it all. "If you kill him, you kill me."

"That's exactly why this needs to happen. That isn't healthy."

"You made me this way! I've been doing this since I was eight. Eight, Bruce. Five fucking years of me getting injured on the job and now you want to cut me out? No. You don't get to do that. You don't get to take that from me."

"Actually, I do. I'm your legal guardian. I'm locking the suit up, Dick. It's done. Robin is dead." Bruce was using his end of argument voice. Nails in the coffin of Dick's life. In any other circumstance, this would be the end of it. Bruce would have left the room and Dick would have curled into a ball and let the tears burning behind his eyes fall.

But not this time.

Robin was his – was him.

And so, he squared his shoulders, ignoring the way just that motion made his vision swim with pain. Physical pain he could deal with. He was used to as much. It was the mental battle he needed to win now. "No, Bruce. I'm done."

"Dick–"

Dick brushed past him, head held high and strides confident as he made his way to the door. "Just see how long you'll last without me."

Bruce didn't even bother trying to stop him as he slammed the door shut.

He made it three miles down the road in one of Bruce's cars before the pain took over and he blacked out. The tears took longer to come – almost long enough that Dick thought maybe, just maybe, he had grown past that.

Dick had built himself a team – a group of equals who he could count on and who valued him as much as he did them.

He felt safe. He felt loved. He felt whole.

And then Garfield showed him a picture of Batman standing with a kid dressed in bright greens and reds. His greens and reds. ROBIN RETURNS the article read.

As if that were him.

As if Bruce hadn't just tried to slap a 'dead' label on him only to bring out a fresh new child in a matter of months.

As if Bruce hadn't just ripped his entire identity out from under him.

Staring at the picture alone in his room, Dick couldn't stop the tears from falling.

~•~

"He wanted me, you know," Dick mumbled, slumped against Kory as she gently ran her fingers through his hair. "I know... I know it was bad, but he wanted me."

Kory hummed, pulling him closer. "He wanted to control you."

"I know that. But he also... he thought I was capable. He thought I could be strong. That... that I am strong."

"You are."

"Batman didn't think so," he whispered, voice shaking more than he would ever be willing to admit. "He replaced me. I... Deathstroke wouldn't replace me."

"Dick–"

"I know, I know. It's stupid. I'm not going to go back. You know I won't. I just... It was nice, being wanted." Dick spoke quickly, pulling back from her embrace. "He saw me."