GiovannaSales076 this one's for you... and daaaaaang is she a long one. I apologize as well for the disjointed mess that is this chapter :)
Italics = flashback
Dick slid to the ground, bringing his knees up to his chest and hiding his face in them. The words from his father figure that had chased him away dancing around his brain.
The quiet rustle of fabric drew Dick's attention, and he looked up, hoping desperately to see Bruce there to bring him home.
What he did see however was not Bruce. Men in bone-white masks stood around him, knives glinting wickedly in their hands.
Dick jumped to his feet and reached for a batarang... only to remember his utility belt had been left behind with his mentor.
Gritting his teeth, Dick launched into hand to hand.
For a moment it seemed he might be gaining ground... but the moment was fleeting, and he soon found a knife resting against his throat, a man in a gold gilded suit standing in front of him.
"Join us... or die," he said in an almost comically threatening tone.
"Sorry, think I'll pass," Dick hissed, struggling against the hands pressing him against the wall.
The man's head tilted slowly to the right. "Then die and join us," he said, his voice suddenly sinister.
There was a flash of metal and a spurt of blood as a blade was stuck in Dick's chest, piercing his heart.
"Grayson!" Damian was calling, waving a hand in front of his brother's face.
"Sorry," Dick replied weakly, still reeling from the flashback. "Just got a bit lost in thought."
Damian rolled his eyes. "I was asking if you wanted to come on patrol with us," he said, placing his hands on his hips.
Dick sighed, knowing Damian wouldn't take any excuses. "Sure," he said weakly. At least he wouldn't be left alone in the manor with his thoughts again...
Damian broke into an excited grin, grabbing the elder's hand and nearly jumping up and down as he led him down to the cave.
To say Bruce was surprised to see Dick down there would be an understatement. Dick however, didn't miss the flicker of happiness, and perhaps even excitement on the man's face.
"Wow, Goldie's finally coming out to play," Jason said, clapping slowly.
Dick stiffened at the nickname. "Thought it was about time," he said sheepishly.
Bruce cleared his throat. "Jason, you take sector one, Dick, sector two. Damian... You and Tim cover sector three. I'll take sector four."
Tim and Damian glared daggers at each other across the room and Jason snickered.
Dick let out an imperceptible breath of relief. Bruce was likely trying to show his trust by having him cover a sector alone, but he was mostly just relieved he wouldn't have to be as constantly on guard as he would have to be if any of his brothers were there.
—
Patrol had been slow in Dick's sector, a petty thief here and there, but otherwise nothing.
It was almost a relief, until Dick realized that probably meant that either his brothers or Bruce had to deal with more of the nightly psychos. Or they were just having an unusually quiet night... he was hoping for that.
His hopes, however, were dashed when he received an emergency alert, the location blinking in Tim & Damian's sector.
—
"He needs a transfusion stat!" Bruce called, rushing Damian's limp body to the cave's med bay.
"We haven't restocked our supply in a while," Jason said. "We don't have any of his blood type left."
Bruce cursed.
"Can't you just give him a transfusion?" Tim asked Bruce. "He is the, and I quote 'blood son'. Surely you share the same blood type."
Bruce grit his teeth. "He has his mother's blood type," he said.
Dick's heart hammered in his chest at what he was about to do. "I... I'm a universal donor," he said, stepping forward and rolling up the sleeve of his suit.
Bruce's relief was nearly palpable as he led Dick over to a gurney and started prepping for the blood transfusion.
Dick on the other hand felt like he might pass out. Dread filling his body.
He watched as the needle was inserted into his arm, his blood flowing through a tube on its way to help save his brother's life.
It was a small relief that everyone was too preoccupied to notice the slight blackish tint to his blood, or how much Dick was shaking, his breath coming in tiny snatches.
Dick's eyes snapped open, lungs expanding with a breath that felt very much unnatural, forced.
Unfamiliar people surrounded him. He wanted to sit up, to look around, to get these people away from himself.
A pinch on the inside of Dick's arm drew his attention. He shifted his gaze down and watched black liquid pumping into his veins.
One masked figure finished taping the other catheter down to his arm, a long tube leading to a simple bucket.
Not very tasteful of them if he did say so himself.
Dick watched has his blood flowed down through the tube, hearing the noise of it splashing into the bucket below surprisingly well. It made him feel sick, unearthly terror rising in his chest.
Bruce's hand on Dick's shoulder brought him back to the present. He was still staring down at his arm. The catheter had already been removed and it had been wrapped by either Bruce or Alfred.
"Thanks Dick," Bruce said, sounding beyond relived.
Dick looked up and gave a shaky smile, his heart still feeling like it was racing a mile a minute. "I-of course," he said. "I think I'm going to go to bed now."
Bruce nodded, and Dick retreated to his room.
Dick curled himself into a ball in the corner of his bed, swathed himself in a blanket, and cried.
He felt so silly. He was a killing machine after all, he wasn't supposed to cry... but here he was.
Eventually, Dick cried himself to sleep.
—
Bruce awoke in the middle of the night to a loud thump. Tim, he assumed, falling out of his chair when his coffee could no longer keep him awake.
When he entered his son's room, he proved that theory to be correct.
Tim was splayed out on the floor, one leg still caught on his chair, soft snores coming from his mouth, and his computer still open to a case file.
Bruce shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips as he turned off the computer and lifted Tim off the floor.
Once Tim was safely nestled in his bed, Bruce headed back to his own room, nearly tripping over his eldest on the way back.
Dick stirred, shifting his position on the floor slightly before drifting off again.
Bruce dragged a hand over his face. It was too early to be carrying children back to bed...
Dick looked comfortable enough on the floor, he finally decided, and simply stepped over him and walked back to bed.
—
The next morning Bruce jokingly asked the younger what had made him want to sleep on the floor, not at all expecting him to stiffen and look down at his feet.
"I... I don't feel safe in my room," Dick mumbled after a moment. "That's why I sleep on the floor... it feels safer by you."
Bruce's heart ached for his son as he remembered the scared little 8 year old who'd ask to sleep in his room when he'd had a particularly bad nightmare. "I'm so sorry... I had no idea," Bruce said. "We have plenty of rooms, and you're more than welcome to any of them. You can even have mine if it will make you feel safer."
Dick's relief was palpable. "Thank you Bruce," he said, giving his mentor a tentative hug.
"Of course Dickie," Bruce replied, hugging his son back as if he might disappear if he let him go.
—
For the first time in a long time, Dick was actually excited for patrol. He'd gotten a solid night's sleep the night before in his new windowless bedroom, and patrol seemed to be a good way to get out his anger and take a punch at his personal demons.
Bruce was glad his son was finding joy in something again, his heart lifting when he saw Dick laughing and smiling, something he hadn't realized he'd missed so much.
The bat family made short work of their patrol, returning to the cave just after 2am to enjoy Alfred's post patrol snacks he always made sure to prepare.
Dick smiled and joked with his siblings. A weight had lifted from his shoulders somewhat, bringing with it a sense of security.
—
Damian, who'd gotten rather attached to his older brother in the short time he'd known him treaded quietly down the hall towards his brother's new room. 'He's fine,' he reasoned, but he couldn't quite stop himself from checking on the elder after the nightmare he'd just had.
The door swung open without so much as a creak, and Damian stepped quietly into the room, not wanting to wake his brother... the bed, however, was empty.
Panic built in Damian's chest. Surely Dick had just gone downstairs for a snack. He couldn't be gone... someone would've heard something...
Not caring how loud he was being, Damian ran through the manor, checking the kitchen, library, bathrooms, bedrooms... everywhere. His brother was nowhere to be found.
Damian rushed back up the stairs, nearly running into Bruce, Tim, and Jason. "He's gone," he breathed, poorly concealed panic evident in his voice.
Bruce stiffened, immediately heading for the Batcave. There was no way he was going to lose his son again.
—
Two weeks. That's how long it took for Batman and co. to follow the string of half clues to a tentative location.
Bruce had nearly been tearing himself apart in the meantime, his mind conjuring up all manor of things that could be happening to his son. None of them good.
The moment everything had strung together Bruce was off, not waiting for any of his little ducklings to follow before he was speeding out of the cave.
Panic clutched at Bruce's heart when he saw where the clues had led him. He grit his teeth as he recognized the familiar entrance to the home of the court of owls.
The owls had his son... they'd had his son for two weeks. Suddenly Bruce's imaginings of what could've happened to his son seemed like sunshine and rainbows.
He only hoped he wasn't too late...
Owls swarmed the corridors, the unnerving white masks and shining golden eyes analyzing Bruce's every move.
He took a moment to regret his decision of rushing off without backup before pulling out a batarang and getting to work.
The talons fought like lions, trained to perfection and enhanced to be nearly undying weapons.
Bruce however, he fought like a dragon, carving through his numberless foes on his way to his son. He wasn't going to let anything stop him this time.
Eventually the owls stopped coming, Bruce stood at the end of a long hallway. His breath came in gasping pants, and he was dripping blood, both his own and his enemies. He risked a glance behind him only to see the talons beginning to stir.
Bruce decided against punching them all into oblivion... again, even though he really wanted to.
Instead he darted down the right hallway, hoping that would lead him to where he wanted to go.
—
Bruce felt like he was going to pass out... or die, or both, but he kept running, knocking down door after door until he he saw a shivering figure huddled in the corner of a dark room.
Dick lay on the floor, barely clinging on to consciousness. He wasn't quite sure what the court had done to him, but it hurt.
Bruce fell to his knees at his son's side, scooping him up into his arms and pressing him to his chest.
Dick stiffened, nightmarish phantoms still clouding his mind.
"It's ok Wing, you're safe. I've got you," Bruce soothed.
Dick melted into his father figure's embrace, fingers gripping tightly to the loose fabric of his cape.
A sob escaped from Dick's throat, followed by another, and another. He clung to Bruce like a lifeline as he sobbed. He'd never wanted Bruce more than during these past weeks of torture, so he continued to cling to him, hardly entertaining the idea of ever letting go.
Eventually Bruce gently removed himself from the hug to examine his son. He saw the ill fit in Dick's uniform, and the pained way he held himself... but his heart stopped when he looked into Dick's bright gold eyes.
Dick pulled away from Bruce when he saw the man looking into his eyes, quickly turning his head to hide from his searching gaze.
Bruce reached out a hand, gently turning Dick's gaze back to him. "I'm so sorry you had to go through this alone... I... I would take it all back if I could. And... and I don't care what they've done to you, you're still my son... And I love you," Bruce said, his voice breaking with emotion.
Dick looked up into his father's eyes, tears running down his cheeks, Bruce's words soothing fears he'd harbored for years.
Bruce drew his son into another hug, holding him tightly to his chest and rubbing soothing circles on his back.
Noise down the hall interrupted the reunion. Bruce stumbled to his feet, pulling Dick up after him.
Dick swayed and leaned into Bruce, nausea and dizziness assaulting him.
Bruce put a steadying hand on Dick's arm. "You ok bud?" He asked.
"I'll be fine," Dick replied, taking a deep breath and mentally readying himself.
Concern shined in Bruce's eyes, but he didn't say anything. It's not like he could fight off a hundred or so talons and carry his son at the same time... well maybe he could, but probably not well... "Just stay behind me ok," he finally said, moving towards the door.
"Go left," Dick said.
Bruce looked at him for a moment before heading left.
"Left again," Dick called as they approached another set of intersecting hallways.
Bruce turned, jogging slowly enough that Dick would be able to keep up. He was almost at the end of the hall when a commotion behind him caught his attention.
Dick was doing his best to hold off a group of talons at the entrance to the hall. His gaze was panicked as he glanced over to Bruce.
Bruce ran to his his aid, the flames of his fury being fanned every time he saw a talon land a blow on his son.
Father and son soon stood over the twitching forms of the talons.
Dick swayed on his feet, his knees giving out after a moment of trying to keep himself upright.
Bruce dove to catch his son, cradling him in his arms as he ran down the hallway, Dick giving him directions drunkenly as he tried to keep his eyes open.
The strange screeching of the talons echoed in the hallway after them, something Bruce pushed to the back of his mind as he ran, bursting through the exit and rushing to the safety of the Batmobile.
—
"Where the heck did you go?!" Jason shouted at Bruce when he stumbled out of the Batmobile.
Bruce leaned against the car for a moment before walking around and grabbing his eldest from the passenger side, not having the energy to reply. He stumbled on his way to the med bay, and suddenly found Tim and Jason by his side, the elder taking Dick from his arms, the younger wedging his shoulder under Bruce's arm and helping him to a hospital bed.
Alfred was summoned by a nearly hysterical Tim, while Damian had latched on to his older brother and didn't seem to want to let go.
Bruce swatted lazily at Alfred when he came to examine him. "Go help... my... my son," he mumbled, his eyes sliding shut for a moment.
"Master Dick will be quite alright Master Bruce," Alfred said, slapping away Bruce's hands as he got to work cleaning and stitching wounds.
Bruce grumbled something intelligible and finally allowed his eyes to stay closed as he drifted off.
—
There was a head resting on Bruce's leg when he woke. He could hear hitching breath and stifled sobs.
Bruce debated on letting whoever it was know he was awake, an opposing voice warring in his head, telling him how awkward that would be...
Screw awkwardness he finally decided, blinking his eyes open.
Bruce was surprised to see Dick sitting bent over his bed. He was fisting handfuls of Bruce's blanket as he cried, the sound so broken...
Reflexively, Bruce reached forward, carding his fingers through Dick's curls.
Dick flinched away at first, but eventually relaxed into the touch, his sobs quieting somewhat.
"What's wrong Dickie?" Bruce asked quietly.
Dick let out another loud sob. "I-I d-don't know," he said, sniffling. "S-so m-much."
"Come here Bluebird," Bruce said, scooting over in his hospital bed. "I'm still not convinced you're well enough to be out of bed yet."
Dick curled up against Bruce's side, his hiccuping sobs muffled slightly as he buried his face in his father figure's chest.
"I'm so sorry Dickie," Bruce said after a while. "I should've protected you better... I should've been there for you, saved you from all of this."
Dick snuggled closer to Bruce, his tears wetting the blanket Alfred had draped over the elder. He felt a small sense of security for the first time in weeks, and that was enough to calm him slightly, his ragged breaths eventually evening out as sleep claimed him.
—
When Dick awoke next the whole family was there... and they were talking about him. He was still snuggled up to Bruce's side, feeling very much like a child. He couldn't bring himself to move though, so he simply stayed there.
His siblings peppered Bruce with questions, questions Bruce didn't seem to have the answers to.
"Grayson?" Damian called timidly when he realized the elder was awake. "Will you tell us what happened... or... uh... why your eyes have turned gold?"
Dick tensed slightly, lower lip trembling as he began his tale. "The... the night Bruce kicked me out... they took me..." he said, memories flashing vividly in his head.
"What?" Bruce breathed, voice filled with horror. What had happened to his son? What had he allowed to happen to his son?
Dick wouldn't meet anyone's eyes as he continued, drawing his arms tightly around himself. "They... they killed me," he said, tears silently streaking down his cheeks. "And turned me into one of their talons... they... they had me under their control until I managed to escape a few months ago..."
Silence was heavy in the Batcave, Bruce looking almost like he was about to have a panic attack. "They had you for years..." he said, his voice raw.
Dick nodded minutely, his tears still flowing freely.
Suddenly he found himself in the center of a group hug, Bruce whispering apologies, sniffles heard from more than just Dick.
"You're safe now Dick," Bruce said, the whole bat family holding onto each other, supporting one another. "And I will fight every day to keep you that way," he finished.
Dick sniffled again, seeing the looks of determination on his brother's faces. He closed his eyes and leaned into the embrace. "And I will never stop fighting for this," he whispered.