This one's long 😅 and I had to fight through a looooooooooooot of writer's block to get it done lol... enjoy
"Robin," Dick scolded. "Give me the sword." He stared at the recent addition to the bat family.
Damian definitely took the title of the current most murderous bat child, and Dick knew he knew how to use his sword. So to avoid any murders, he reached out his hand for Damian to surrender the weapon.
"If we die because I don't have my sword it'll be your fault," Damian hissed, reluctantly passing the weapon over.
Dick sighed and strapped the katana to his back.
—
Everything was going smoothly during patrol, criminals being systematically taken down and turned in. A plus being that Damian hadn't killed, maimed, or permanently disabled anyone yet.
It wasn't long before Bruce called it a night, and their little family gathered on a rooftop near the police station.
Something felt off when Dick landed, and he turned just in time to be shot through with a beam of light.
Dick stumbled forward, and stiffened when he felt a pull, a sickening painful pull, like and anchor being plunged into his soul then dragged back to its boat, carrying him with it. Panic spiked in him as he began to lose control of his own limbs, watching as he turned and marched toward his family.
The shadowy figure of a woman appeared on the rooftop. She grinned widely, a grin filled with malice like a poison. Her will crushing Dick's own as she used him like a puppet without strings...
Dick's eyes were wide with fear, his legs dragging him forward with stumbling steps despite every effort he made to stop them. His breathing sped up as he looked up and saw the fear in his family's eyes as he advanced. "Run," he pleaded, his voice a choked whisper. "Run!"
Tears rolled down his cheeks as he saw the determination in his family member's eyes. They weren't going to leave him. And he would be forced to kill them.
Dick's cried pleas became more desperate as he felt the woman's will close tighter around him like an iron fist, forcing him to draw the sword he'd confiscated from Damian at the beginning of patrol, his steps becoming more purposeful.
It was a sick game she was playing, allowing him just enough of his own will to fight against her own, sobbing and pleading with his family members to run and save themselves as he'd be forced to watch himself kill them. Letting him desperately try to stop himself.
In reality, she had total control...
Dick advanced on Tim first, the tip of the katana dragging across the rooftop ominously. "Red," he cried, voice filled with fear, "Please! Run!" He sobbed.
Tim was frozen, not believing Dick would possibly hurt him. Until his brother raised his weapon and attacked, his movements showing absolutely no mercy even as his voice cried out in panic for Tim to save himself.
Tim would've been easily overwhelmed if it hadn't been for the rest of the family rushing in to help.
Sparks flew as the sword bounced off of kevlar, Dick's attacks precise and aimed to kill.
A gunshot rang out, and Dick's body jerked, turning to face Jason as he fired at the robed woman who's iron will still held Dick captive.
"No," Dick sobbed, as his blade cut an arc through the air. He felt it connect with Jason's body, the deadly sharp tip slicing through the armor and padding of Jason's suit and leaving a bleeding slash.
Jason stumbled back, the wound not deep enough to do more than sting.
Dick's breathing was out of control, tears racing down his cheeks, his body wracked with sobs even as he turned back to the others.
Bruce pushed Tim and Damian behind him, stepping forward to face his eldest alone.
Dick looked at Bruce, his terror evident even through his mask. "B..." his voice cracked. "S-stop me... please," he pled through his tears.
Bruce leapt forward, trying for a blow to the solar plexus, something to knock Dick out quickly.
Dick however, moved faster, bracing Damian's Katana as Bruce surged forward, and stabbing it into his mentor's side.
"No!!!" Dick screamed, stumbling back, suddenly noticing that there was blood speckling his shaking hands.
His captor seemed to enjoy Dick's mental anguish as she let him stare at his hands for a moment too long.
A bullet was what ended the nightmare, fired by Jason, hitting the woman in the side.
Dick felt a final desperate command forced into his mind before the connection was severed and the woman disappeared. He fell to his knees, shaking. He was free.
The members of the bat family swarmed Bruce, Damian calling back to the cave, Jason applying a pressure wrap to Bruce's side, stabilizing the blade still sticking out of him. Tim typed in the command on his holo glove to summon the bat jet.
Dick himself stared at his bloodied hands, his breathing short and shallow as what he'd just done sunk in.
Once Bruce had been sent back to the cave with Damian, Jason and Tim turned to Dick, trying to comfort him.
Dick shied away from his brothers as they encircled him, fearing some sort of residual control.
Jason and Tim seemed to be fine, not scared of him at least, one small relief that persuaded Dick not to flinch away from the strong arms he was wrapped in as they tried their best to calm him down.
They hugged him like they'd never let him go.
Tears flowed freely down Dick's cheeks, sobs shaking his body as he felt the one final command take control of his mind and body. He slipped one of Jason's guns from its holster, pressing it to his own ribs, subconsciously aligning it with a weak spot in his kevlar.
And then he pulled the trigger.
His brothers scattered when the heard the shot go off.
Dick fell to the ground, finally free of the last command, his blood spilling out onto the roof. He was barely aware of his siblings frantically moving above him, calling out things he couldn't quite decipher. He felt as if he should be trying harder to understand, but he couldn't quite bring himself to try and listen, or open his eyes for that matter. It all eventually faded to darkness anyway.
—
The first thing Dick was aware of was the beep of a heart monitor. He shifted slightly, testing the limits of whatever injury he'd incurred that had led him to waking up in the cave's med bay... and then he remembered. The horrific scenes from the last night's patrol flashing through his mind.
He slowly opened his eyes, squinting at the bright lights. There was something on both of his wrists, something that a quick glance confirmed to be shackles.
Panic instantly shot through him, and he pulled uselessly at the restraints. He didn't have anything to pick them with, and he suddenly felt the very real need to be freed. "B-Bruce?" He called weakly, surely the man hadn't left him in the Batcave by himself. That was like Alfred's number one rule... okay, maybe like number five rule... but still.
Dick called out for Bruce once again before the memory of the night before hit him and he quieted. He'd stabbed Bruce... had he killed the man?
Suddenly being shackled to the bed made a lot more sense. His family didn't trust him to not try and murder them again... or so it seemed.
The noise of footsteps entering the cave brought Dick a small sense of relief. "Hello?" He called, voice shaking and tears threatening to spill from his eyes.
"Hey Dickie," the younger replied, pausing to stand where Dick could see him, leaving a large enough distance between them that Dick could tell he was wary of him.
"Jay, what's going on?" Dick asked, avoiding the question he wanted to ask which was 'Why the heck am I shackled to a medical bed in the Batcave?'
Jason took a tentative step closer. "We had no immediate way of knowing if you were still... following commands," he replied, subconsciously reaching a hand up to gingerly rub over the bandages that were hidden under his shirt.
Dick flinched, hurt flashing across his face. "I'm not under her control anymore," he mumbled.
Jason sighed, stepping closer and unlocking Dick's restraints. "Look, I know it's... it was horrible to watch you having to fight her control like that... and I know you probably didn't appreciate the circumstances you... woke up in, but you have to understand. We didn't want to have to see you hurt anyone else," he said.
Dick's lower lip trembled and he drew himself into a ball, nestling his head on his knees despite the protest of his bullet wound. "What about Bruce," he asked quietly, almost dreading the news of what he'd done to his mentor.
"He'll be out for a while, but Alfred's expecting a full recovery," Jason said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "If you want to see him I can take you up."
Dick uncurled himself slightly, nodding at his brother.
"Ok, come on," Jason said, helping Dick to his feet and helping him towards the stairs.
Dick paused, hanging back. "Jay?" He said quietly.
Jason hummed in response.
"I-I... I don't want to hurt anyone... please... please don't let me hurt anyone. I don't care what it takes," Dick said, looking into Jason's eyes almost pleading with him.
"You won't hurt anyone," Jason said, putting a hand on Dick's back.
A tear made its way down Dick's cheek. "Promise me you won't let me... p-please," he begged.
Jason sighed, wiping away the tear from his brother's face. "I promise," he finally said.
Dick let out a breath of relief. "Thank you," he said, following Jason up the stairs.
—
Tim and Damian visibly tensed when Dick stepped into Bruce's room, Bruce himself showing he was on guard only by a slight furrow of his brows.
Dick took it all in, the pit of guilt in his stomach deepening. "Bruce," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm so sorry," he said, tears beginning to flood his eyes.
"It's not your fault Dickie," Bruce reassured, reaching out a hand which Dick stepped forward and gingerly grabbed.
Dick let out a choked sob. "But it was me... and... and I h-hurt you," he said. "I don't f-feel like I can even trust myself anymore."
"Jay, can you get Dick a chair," Bruce asked quietly, noticing the pallor of his eldest.
"Yeah," Jason said, helping Dick sit next to Bruce's bed.
"Are you sure there aren't any more subconscious orders left in your mind?" Bruce asked.
"Yes... I... I don't think there are any," Dick said uncertainly.
"You don't think there are any, or you know there aren't any?" Tim asked, apprehensive.
"I-
Bruce cut Dick off. "We'll have M'gann check his mind to be sure," he said.
"But-
Dick was interrupted again by Damian asking about patrol the schedule while Bruce was healing, something Bruce was all too happy to launch into an in depth explanation of.
A small sigh from Dick went unheard by the family. He was sure there weren't any more commands left in his psyche... he didn't much like the thought of someone else going into his mind, so soon after his agency was violated, something he knew M'gann would never do, but that didn't change the fact that she was completely capable of doing it. And that scared him.
—
Dick let out a whimper when he felt Mrs Martian's presence in his mind. He heard Bruce pleading with her to leave no proverbial stone unturned in her search for leftover mental commands.
She sifted through Dick's mind, and he didn't try to hide anything from her, except for his fear at her presence in his mind.
Dick had tried again to tell Bruce that he knew there weren't any more commands. He'd felt each of them like a shackle of molten lava burning on his subconscious.
Bruce, of course, hadn't listened. It would seem the trust between the two had been damaged by the previous night's fight, never mind that Dick hadn't had any control over what had happened.
Dick stiffened when he felt M'gann reach deeper into his mind, his eyes widening slightly as the events from the previous night we're forced back into his mind.
M'gann was hit by a wave of Dick's overwhelming fear. She was drowning in it so it seemed, the pure fear, fear of her own mental presence, causing her to immediately withdraw, the green light fading from her eyes.
Dick curled in on himself, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around them, never-mind the spikes of pain it sent through his side.
"I'm so sorry," M'gann whispered, appalled at what she'd just inadvertently done.
Dick's eyes were unfocused. "I'm fine," he said, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty, not sure if he was trying to reassure himself or M'gann.
Said Martian stood and quickly made her way to Bruce, reporting on the lack of residual programming in Dick's mind.
Dick stood, shaking slightly as he headed to the zeta tubes, making a beeline for his room.
—
Dick was laying awake in his bed, terrified of the images that would undoubtedly invade his mind the moment he let himself drift off. He let out a shaky breath. His family all expected him to bounce back, and he felt the weight of everything. Everyone's expectation to be fine after nearly killing his family... nearly killing Bruce...
He couldn't simply be fine after that, especially when his siblings kept flinching back at his touches, and even Bruce remained wary of him.
A quiet sob broke the relative silence of Dick's room. He longed for someone to come comfort him, for his siblings to trust him again... for his family to love him again.
He was sure, however, that nobody would come to comfort him. His siblings had never been ones to pay much attention to mental health, something surprising for people who spent their free time playing detective in fancy suits.
Dick continued to cry, not caring how his own loud sobs made his headache spike. Maybe he'd feel better after crying himself to sleep.
—
Bruce stood unnoticed in Dick's room, brows furrowed in concern at the tear stains on his son's pillow, his breath still hitching slightly in sleep.
He sat heavily in a chair next to Dick's bed and put his head in his hands. What was he supposed to do? How could he fix this?
Dick was supposed to be the one who was good with emotions, the one to fix his siblings when they had a hard day or a traumatic memory was haunting them in their dreams... Bruce had never been good at that.
Bruce's own breathing hitched, a tear slipping down his cheek.
Dick stirred. "B?" He asked, his voice faint and wobbly from sleep.
"Hey Dickie," Bruce started. He had no idea what to say. "How are you doing?" His tone was gentle, soothing. A tone he hadn't used on his eldest since he was a kid.
Dick's eyes clouded up again. "I..." he stopped himself from simply saying he was fine, Bruce was trying to help so it seemed. "It hurts," he whispered.
"The bullet wound?" Bruce asked, mentally face palming, but also hoping it would be something easy to fix. Physical pain could be dulled with some pain killers... mental pain was so much trickier.
Dick didn't answer, simply curling up tighter on his bed and crying harder.
"I'm sorry," Bruce muttered. "I know I've never been the best at this..." he trailed off, letting out a sigh that seemed to hold the weight of the world. And then he did something so unlike himself that anyone else would have done a double take.
Dick stiffened when he felt Bruce's arms wrap him in a warm hug, and he couldn't help but melt in the comforting embrace, grabbing fistfuls of Bruce's shirt and holding on as tightly as he could. "People keep saying that it wasn't my fault... but they still treat me like it was," he whispered, pressing himself closer to his father figure.
Bruce bit his lip as his side twinged with pain, but he didn't flinch away like he wanted to, that would just make things worse.
Dick drew in another shuddering breath. "I... I just feel like I'm a toy you're all playing with, but nobody takes the time to stop and fix me when I break. They all just want to keep playing..." he said, growing quiet.
Bruce pressed a kiss to the top of Dick's head, a stray tear falling into his tangled curls. "You're allowed to feel broken Dick," he said. "Take it from the man who decided to dress up as a bat to deal with his problems," he added with a wet laugh.
Dick chuckled quietly, Bruce's words relaxing him slightly.
"What that woman did was completely out of your control. You aren't at fault for what she made you do," Bruce continued.
"I know that," Dick mumbled.
"But I know you don't believe it," Bruce countered, pulling back slightly from their hug to look Dick in the eyes. "It's not your fault. Stop blaming yourself."
"But they-
"That's their problem, not yours," Bruce interrupted. "You give so much of your heart away bud... it's time for you to save some for yourself."
Dick's lip trembled and he buried his face in Bruce's shoulder again, sobbing tears of relief. He finally felt like he'd been heard.
—
"Tag!" Damian shouted, grappling away quickly.
Dick laughed, running in the direction he'd seen Bruce head off in. The man having acquiesced to join their game after a solid 10 or so minutes of pleading.
Patrol was wrapping up, and Dick could see the that his siblings had already gathered on the designated rendezvous roof, a pre agreed upon safe spot in the game.
Bruce, however, wasn't there yet Dick noticed with a smirk. The younger waited patiently until he saw the other vigilante swinging towards the roof.
Dick immediately shot out his grappling line, swinging and intercepting Bruce, shouting tag as he dropped to the roof, landing in a roll.
"Hey," Bruce complained when they landed.
"Too slow old man," Dick replied with a smile. "Should've been more aware of your surroundings."
Bruce didn't answer, instead he stood completely still, staring over Dick's shoulder for a moment.
Dick turned his head in confusion, looking around behind him for a moment before he saw something that stopped his heart... A figure from his recent nightmares seemed to fade into existence, the dark hood just as it had been before.
A beam of light flew from an outstretched hand, ricocheting from family member to family member.
Dick cried out in alarm as Bruce pulled him behind him, shielding him with his body.
The light hit Bruce and he stiffened, moving in tandem with the rest of the family as they turned themselves toward their brother.
The woman seemed to have a tighter control over them this time, not allowing even a single flicker of emotion to cross any of her puppet's faces.
Dick fought the urge to run. Staying seemed like almost certain death, but he couldn't let his family watch as they harmed innocents. He knew they'd never truly forgive themselves... just like he'd never truly forgive himself for hurting them.
He stumbled to the side, reeling as he realized what had happened. In his moment of indecision, Bruce had drawn a batarang and stabbed it into his back.
Dick's masked eyes went wide, his body fighting between fight and flight as his family closed in on him.
His fight against his family was weak, his brain flashing back to memories from when he'd been forced to fight his family against his will. His own pleas haunted his ears as he took blow after blow from his brothers and Bruce himself.
There had to be a way to end this... Dick's mind scrambled for a solution, the shiny black metal of the Batmobile catching his eye on the street below.
Dick dove for the Batmobile, sealing himself inside with the emergency lock, and allowing himself a few moments to calm his shaky breathing. He had a vague thought that Bruce would be mad he was bleeding in his seat... hopefully he'd live to hear that lecture.
As hoped, Dick found what he needed in the glovebox. He grabbed it tightly, his only hope against whoever this villain was.
The thought of moving made Dick whimper, his body screaming at him to stop and let unconsciousness take him.
Dick startled, his eyes snapping open when his siblings started banging their fists against the car, rocking it almost with their attempts to get inside. He needed to move.
Fortunately the Batmobile had an emergency exit that let out underneath it toward the back, something the woman wouldn't have her puppet sentries watching Dick hoped.
He made his way to the exit, struggling out, and making a desperate run for it.
The woman soon turned her attention to him, directing his family members to swarm him.
Dick felt Damian's sword carve a line across his chest, the feeling of more batarangs being stuck into the muscle of his back, fading to numbness as he dodged and jumped, approaching the one pulling the strings.
Dick stumbled when he felt a weight on his back, Tim swinging his bow staff around to try and choke his older brother.
Black spots danced in his vision, but Dick managed to flip Tim off of his back and continue running forward.
The cloaked woman tried once again to bar his way with one of his family members, but Dick jumped off of the shoulders of whoever she'd placed in front of him and landed behind her.
A gunshot went off, and Dick slumped to the ground, noticing it had been Jason he'd jumped over.
He'd already done what he'd needed to however, the inhibitor collar he'd prepped in the car sitting snugly around the woman's neck, the remote still clutched in Dick's hand, despite his rapidly fading strength. He flipped it on, sending a shock surging through the woman's body until she fell unconscious to the ground.
Around him Dick's family members stumbled, a few of them falling to their knees. He took a shuddering breath, feeling his life draining from him. There wasn't enough strength left in him to shout, to get his family's attention like he wanted to. There was still a chance he could live, but with each passing moment he went unseen his chances decreased.
A gasp drew Dick's mind back slightly from the fog it had been descending into. He managed to turn his head minutely, watching as Damian ran up to him, tears glistening in his eyes, apologies pouring from his lips. It would seem his family members were just as aware of their actions as he had been.
It only took a second for the rest of the family to be gathered around, Bruce directing them to their tasks, a spark of panic in his own eyes.
Dick tried to comment on how ironic this was, but his mouth filled with blood, his body shaking with weak coughs.
Bruce was calling an emergency evac. Calling out some sort of color code, his hand pressed to the communication device in his ear.
Dick hoped it was blue... he liked blue...
Everything in him seemed to want to come to a grinding halt, and Dick finally realized he was dying. He'd always wanted to either die spectacularly or quietly from old age, surrounded by his family...
He ended up being murdered by his family... how messed up was that?
"Wing," Bruce was calling, his hand cupping Dick's cheek. "I'm so sorry... Please, please, stay with me."
Dick's eyes were becoming unfocused, but he dragged them up to look at his father figure's face. "B..." He mumbled.
"Superman's on the way," Tim interrupted, his voice tinged with panic. "He'll take him to the watchtower... they're already prepping the med bay to receive him."
Bruce scooped Dick up in his arms, cradling him to his chest.
Dick sucked in a pained breath, whimpering softly as he was jostled.
Bruce's breath hitched slightly, and he whispered apologies until his son settled in his arms.
Dick's head rolled to rest on Bruce's shoulder. He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of his mentor's embrace.
"Stay awake bud," Bruce said gently, shifting his eldest so he could better see his face.
Dick didn't open his eyes.
A blue streak flew through the sky towards them. "Superman," Tim mumbled softly.
Clark stumbled as he landed, panic clear on his face as he looked up a Bruce. "I don't hear his heartbeat," he said, his voice low.
Bruce's eyes widened and he surged forward, pressing his son into the Superman's arms. "Take him.... Please..." he pleaded.
Clark nodded and was gone in a whoosh of air.
Bruce deflated, barely paying attention as he sent for the GCPD to come pick up the meta who was still lying on the roof. He didn't have the energy to go beat her to a pulp, and he knew his son wouldn't have wanted it either.
Tim was the one who eventually dragged Bruce away from the puddle of blood he'd been staring into.
He hardly noticed the way Damian was now clinging to Jason, head buried in his leather jacket. The world felt numb. Numb and cold...
Bruce promptly turned and threw up when he opened the Batmobile's door. Blood was smeared across his seat, bloody handprints on the dash. His own suit, he promptly realized, was covered in sticky blood.
Auto pilot took them back to the cave, Bruce not trusting himself enough to drive. He jumped out as soon as they stopped, making his way to the zeta tubes and heading to the watchtower.
Jason, Tim, and Damian simply stood there. None of them had access to the watchtower, something Tim could change with a few minutes of hacking, but it was clear he wasn't in the right mindset.
—
When Bruce stepped out of the zeta tube Clark was waiting for him.
The look on the alien's face was one Bruce recognized. He'd seen it dozens of times after Jason's and Damian's death.
Bruce fell to his knees, tears flooding his eyes. He pulled his cowl down numbly, staring at nothing in particular as his world seemed to be crumbling down around him.
"B... there are people here. You might want to put your cowl back on before someone sees you," Clark said gently.
"I don't care anymore," was Bruce's strangled reply. He allowed Clark to help him up and lead him to the med bay.
A team of nurses and doctors were standing with shoulders slumped as they did menial clean up tasks.
The head surgeon, who Bruce had met plenty of times before, walked up to him. His face was one of grief. "I'm so sorry for your loss," he said quietly. "There was nothing we could do."
Bruce stood there for a moment, the words like a slap to the face. "Can I see him? I... I need to say goodbye," he asked quietly.
The surgeon nodded, leading the way to the room they'd moved Dick's body to and closing the door after Bruce walked in.
Bruce walked slowly to the hospital bed moving the sheet that was covering his son's face.
Dick looked serene, and Bruce could almost imagine he was just sleeping, taking a midday nap like he used to be fond of doing.
Bruce fell heavily into a chair that had been placed by the bedside, 'probably for this exact reason,' he thought wryly. He let out a shuddering breath, reaching out and tenderly grabbing Dick's hand in his own. Tears started slipping down his cheeks again as he brushed his thumb over the knuckles of the cold hand grasped in his own. "I'm so sorry," he choked out, hanging his head. "It's all my fault. A-and you're gone now."
The silence he got in response was deafening.
Bruce dropped his head down, resting it on the bed. He longed to hold his son just one more time. To hear his laugh... but no... nobody would ever hear that laugh again.
Tears wet the sheet that had once been covering his son's face, and Bruce's shoulders shook as he sobbed.