Dick Grayson one shots

You're gone

Dick managed to crack his eyes open, looking up at the blurry forms standing over him. More hallucinations he decided.

"Come on Grayson, we're here to take you home," a younger voice said, a small hand coming to rest on Dick's cheek when his eyes slid shut again.

"His arm," another voice said, slightly altered as if it were coming through a voice modulator.

Dick felt a hand behind his back, lifting up into a sitting position while soft white bandages were wrapped around his arm, securing it temporarily to his chest.

"Come on Wing, get up," a medium sized blob said.

Dick managed to rise on shaky legs, following the hallucination blob versions of his family... or were they there? No... they were gone. But spending some time with his hallucinations couldn't hurt.

Jason slung Dick's good arm over his shoulders, supporting his brother's weight as he struggled to keep walking forward.

Tim led the way, looking back anxiously every so often.

Bruce scanned the maze for more talons and court members as they made their way forward, eventually passing the responsibility off to Jason in favor of carrying his eldest.

"Father?" Damian asked tentatively as they climbed into the Batmobile, the bat jet having been destroyed in their original rescue attempt.

Bruce hummed in response, more focused on getting Dick settled on his brother's laps in the back seat.

"Grayson will be okay... right?" He asked, a painful amount of hope in his voice.

Bruce paused what he was doing for a moment. "He... he will be. We'll make sure of that," he replied, squeezing his youngest's hand reassuringly.

—

Dick sucked in a gasping breath as he awoke, eyes blowing wide when he saw he was in the Batcave. He would've shot up in the bed he was lying on if it hadn't been for Alfred holding him down.

"Master Dick, do take it slow," the butler admonished. "You have just undergone corrective surgery on your arm and are on a heavy dosage of antibiotics and pain medication."

Dick's eyes welled with tears at the sight of the butler. "Alfred?" He mumbled. "H-how'd you f-find me?"

Alfred gave Dick a soft smile. "That was Master Bruce's doing. I was simply here to provide cookies and the occasional cup of coffee."

Dick sucked in a shuddering breath, his tears rolling down his cheeks. Alfred must not know what had happened. The image of those horrible dark waves filled with pieces of the bat jet flashed through his mind.

"Master Dick, it's quite alright," Alfred soothed. "You're home safe now."

Dick shook his head. "Th-they're gone... I... I w-watched them..." he sobbed.

"Do tell me what you're going on about Master Dick," Alfred said, his brows creased with what could only be concern.

"They're d-dead," Dick spoke, his voice barely heard through his hitching breaths.

Alfred grabbed his seldom used phone from his pocket, holding it up to his ear for a moment before he spoke. "Master Bruce, I believe your presence is needed in the cave," he said, looking over at Dick nervously.

Dick let out a distressed whine, drawing his knees up to his chest. This must be another hallucination...

Why? Why wouldn't the court just kill him already?

Hurried footsteps echoed in the cave a few moments later, Bruce rushing over to where Alfred was standing. "What's wrong," he asked, glancing at his eldest.

Dick stopped breathing for a moment when he saw Bruce in front of him. He desperately wanted to believe that this was real, that Bruce had found him and brought him back home... but how could he? He'd seen this too many times over the past weeks, and it always ended with him stumbling back to the cursed fountain in the center of the court's maze.

"Dickie?" Bruce asked softly. "What's wrong?"

"Stop," Dick whined, holding his head.

Bruce stepped closer to his son, settling himself next to him and pulling him gently to his chest. "Breathe bud," he encouraged. "Just breathe."

Dick's breaths were shaky and ragged. "Y-you're not real," he whispered, tears running down his cheeks.

Bruce hugged the younger just a bit tighter. "I'm right here Dick," he replied, running his hand through his son's tangled curls.

"N-no," Dick mumbled weakly, resting his head on Bruce's shoulder. "They... they killed you. I-I saw."

"We got out of the plane before it blew bud, we're all safe," Bruce insisted.

Dick let out a stuttering breath, his eyes fluttering closed. He'd cried himself to sleep.

—

Bruce's arms subconsciously tightened around his son when he shifted in his arms.

"B?" Dick mumbled sleepily, basking in the warmth his father's embrace offered.

Bruce hummed in response, yawning as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

Dick sniffled quietly, and Bruce was quick to look him in the eyes. "I'm real," he insisted. "I'm real."

"I-I want to believe you," Dick mumbled. "B-but they... they said that s-so many times."

Bruce let out a sad sigh before he stood. "Trust me," he said, pulling Dick to his feet.

Dick nodded, stumbling when he tried to take a step. He grabbed on to the fabric of Bruce's shirt as his knees gave out, panic flashing briefly in his eyes.

"Careful," Bruce mumbled, helping the younger up and wrapping an arm around his waist for support as they headed to the elevator.

"I always preferred taking the stairs," Dick mumbled as he gazed longingly at the stone steps.

Bruce chuckled. "No offense Dickie, but you're not in any shape to be taking those stairs right now.

Dick made a mock offended noise. "Well now I know you're real. I would never insult myself so greatly," he joked.

Bruce huffed a laugh, helping Dick out of the elevator as it reached the manor's ground floor.

—

Luckily enough, Jason, Tim, and Damian were all in the same room when they found them.

The three boys immediately rushed to their brother's side wrapping him in hugs.

Dick hardly noticed the happy tears rolling down his cheeks as he curled up on the couch with his siblings and his father.

He still didn't know if they were real or just a hallucination, but he could trust.