Chapter Text
Dick had been much too young when he was first exposed to fear toxin. Even all these years later, Bruce could still perfectly picture the sheer terror that had taken over his shining eyes. Bruce wasn't unfamiliar with the contents of Dick's nightmares. He'd seen this fear before, on nights that Dick would shoot straight up out of bed, eyes wild, searching for parents that were no longer there. It was another thing to see that fear remain, for the nightmare to linger for far longer than it should.
Dick's nightmares were already full of his parents falling and the fear toxin made it much worse, the memory replaying like a scene, each time with the details becoming increasingly gruesome. At the time, Bruce had done the only thing he knew how to. He had spent the night right by Dick's side, holding him close and whispering soft comforts into the ear of a boy who couldn't hear them.
Over the years, more times than Bruce would have liked, Dick had been exposed to the horrors that were fear toxin. Until they had started to grow apart, each of those nights ended the same as that first time, with Bruce holding his son in his arms, gently and softly reminding him that he would never let him fall.
It had been his own hubris and worry that had caused Dick to fly away. Now, they had come a long way from those nights that were spent with just the two of them. It was a rare night that Dick was back in Gotham, helping to take down a shipment of fear toxin that was headed towards Blüdhaven. It was just the two of them out, Batman and Nightwing, whirling around each other in practiced motions, bringing the fight they had found themselves in to a quick end. Dick was in the middle of some quip about the goons being too scared to drive again when one of the drivers groaned from the ground behind him and reached into his jacket, releasing a cylindrical object to roll towards Dick. Bruce's cry to watch out wasn't fast enough as the small canister exploded with a small bang beneath Dick's feet, drowning out the soft statement of, "Aw, man," that visibly came from Dick's mouth.
Bruce watched as Dick was knocked off his feet, landing unceremoniously on the ground as noxious fumes surrounded him.
"Shit," Bruce muttered, fumbling to put on a mask to block out the gas and get to Dick. He moved quickly, rushing over to knock out the driver that had released the canister, followed by unceremoniously pulling the hero out of the thickest of the fog with a grunt. When had Dick gotten so big, anyway? He was so different from the small child that had first been hit by fear toxin all those years ago. Bruce finished dragging the man away from the gas, letting his gas mask fall to the side to lean in close and check on him. He gently peeled away the now tattered mask to get a look at Dick's face.
"Nightwing, are you okay?"
The response Bruce got was a tired groan, followed by a thumbs up. After another moment of apparent reflection on the current situation, the thumb quickly flipped downwards with a grimace.
His eyes opened slowly, trying and failing to focus on Bruce. Dick took a deep breath a cleared his throat, his eyes still flitting around with uncertainty.
"Yeah, uh, I think it might be starting to hit already, B. This strain seems..." He trailed off, his eyes going glassy as he stared at Bruce with a familiar look of terror growing on his face. It didn't hurt any less to see that look gracing the face of his... Dick, but Bruce resolved himself to stay with him until this had passed. He gently rested a hand on Dick's arm, gripping with enough pressure to try and make it apparent that he was there without making the man in front of him claustrophobic.
"Hey, Dick. It's going to be okay. I know they're gone, but I'm right here," Bruce spoke softly, a gentleness to his voice that was wholly abnormal.
"B?" Dick asked, his eyes still not really seeing and his breath starting to quicken, "B... Bruce, no!" Dick fought back against the hand that was holding his arm, desperately trying to scramble forward towards a phantom nightmare. Bruce felt himself fall backwards onto his knees at the sound of his name coming out of Dick's mouth. He stared in stunned silence as Dick moved, clawing at the ground in front of him with gasping, terrified breaths.
"Bruce-- damn it-- no, no, no, I'm so sorry. I--," he cut himself off as a sob came from his throat, "Shit, I'm so sorry, I fucked up. I failed you. I-I never should have... never should have--. You were right. I'm not fit to be a hero and now... now it's all my fault." Dick broke down, curling in on himself heaving huge sobs into his fingers, now bloodied from clawing at the rough asphalt.
Bruce felt something inside of him break as he realized what was happening in front of him. Things really had changed from when Dick was a small, scared child who had just lost his parents. Somewhere along the line, the thing that Dick was most scared of, in some sense, had become him. Bruce knew that the time in their lives that was riddled with fighting and harsh words had affected their relationship, but he never thought that it ran this deep. It had never crossed his mind that Dick would think that he wasn't good enough. He hadn't known that Dick was this scared of Bruce being disappointed of him. The thought chilled him to his core, the realization that he had not only caused this pain, but he had been too blind to see it until now.
Bruce let out a shuddering breath, resolving to fix the problem he'd caused. He crept forward slowly, aiming to not startle the crying man in front of him. He settled on his knees next to him, the damp ground of the alleyway bleeding into the fabric of his costume. He waited a long moment before raising an arm to reach across and rest against Dick's shoulders. Dick jerked backwards, away from Bruce's touch, staring at him with fear and apprehension. Bruce pulled back gently, hands raised in a placating gesture.
"Hey, chum, it's alright. It's just me," he spoke softly, knowing that the words themselves would not reach the man in front of him, but that the tone might help to calm the panic racing through him, "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
The words seemed to have their intended effect, with Dick quieting enough for Bruce to inch closer. He still looked absolutely terrified, as if Bruce were a dead man approaching him, and given his reaction, he wouldn't be surprised if that was what Dick was seeing. A corpse version of himself crawling towards him, a twisted, zombified caricature designed to keep the man in front of him terrified. Dick let out a shuddering breath, a new wave of tears threatening to fall as Bruce approached.
"I'm so sorry I couldn't save you."
The words were whispered, a shake to his voice that was so uncharacteristic to this person who had so much life inside him. Years ago, Alfred had once described Dick as sunshine wrapped up in a cocoon hopeless optimism. There was just something about him that refused to succumb to the pain of life, clinging instead to some shred of hope that existed in the core of his soul. Somewhere along the way, now especially with the aid of fear toxin, that hope had been tarnished, a part of it broken and shattered.
"It's okay, Dick."
The words were whispered at the same volume, in an attempt to not scare him further. He moved the final stretch of space and reached out again to gently place a hand on Dick's foot.
"You did your best, chum. Even if it doesn't feel like it, you've saved me more times than I can count and in more ways than you know."
Dick had let him settle next to him, looking wary, but significantly calmer than before. Bruce wanted to take the time to let the man rest and comfort him, but the fear often came in waves, meaning he had to capitalize on this moment of quiet to get them off of the street. Dick still had tears in his eyes, staring at Bruce as if he would disappear. He hated seeing that him looking like that, all of his light being dimmed.
"Hey, let's get you home, okay?"
Dick's breathing quickened at this, the toxin in his system increasing the adrenaline that always seems to come with change. Bruce firmed his grip on Dick, hoping that it would come across as reassuring. He needed to get Dick back to the manor so he could get him an antidote for the toxin. Dick looked apprehensive, but ultimately gave Bruce a small nod, his face still marred with a minor look of fright.
Bruce shifted closer to softly scoop Dick up in his arms and standing with a bit of effort. It was after he was standing that he realized that Dick probably could have walked on his own, but he had gotten so caught up in the moment that he had picked the man up without even thinking about it. Even all of these years later and with doubts swirling around his head, his instinct had been to hold Dick, to protect him from the outside world as he brought him to safety. Did Dick still feel safe in his arms? He brushed the thought aside quickly, bringing his attention back to the matter at hand.
He walked over to the Batmobile parked a little ways away and placed Dick into the passenger seat, strapping the seat belt over his trembling body. He murmured a quiet sentence, assuring Dick that he wasn't going anywhere, before moving around to the driver's side. He sent a message to Alfred asking him to set up for fear toxin before settling in to drive. Dick was still shaking in the seat next to him, staring out the window at hidden terrors. Bruce sighed, placing a hand on Dick's arm.
"Let's get you home."
The manor hadn't really been Dick's home for a few years now, but as they approached, Bruce couldn't help but think about that time in their lives. A time filled with laughter and shenanigans as he learned, or rather, tried to learn, how to be a parent to the young boy that was lighting up his and Alfred's lives. Life had passed him by so much faster than he thought it had and it left him here with a man who was so different from the boy that he had first met.
He pulled into the cave, turning the car off and moving to help Dick out of the car and towards the medbay. Unfortunately, the moment of calm had faded, Dick rocking back and forth in his seat, his breaths stuttering and irregular as his eyes stared blankly into the cave.
Bruce followed Dick's line of sight, staring at what appeared to be nothing. His eyes were focused on a seemingly unimportant spot in the cave, a small sort of alcove embedded in the wall. It took Bruce a moment too long to remember that it had been where they had been standing when Bruce had fired Dick from being Robin.
Before he could stop him, Dick ripped off the seatbelt, rushing over to the spot with far more grace than Bruce would have expected out of him, considering the toxin raging through him. Dick collapsed onto the hard rock of the ground, an audible crack echoing through the cave. Bruce followed after him, calling for Alfred as he rushed over. By the time he made it over, Dick was deep in a nightmare, having a tense one-sided conversation with himself. Bruce waited a few feet back, not wanting to startle him and listening to the words spilling out of his mouth.
"No, no. I can't... I can't do this. He was right, Bruce was right, I can't-- I'm gonna get everyone hurt and--and--and--," He took a sobbing breath, " I'm going to fail them and I'm going to destroy everything he's built and god-- I've never been good enough. I don't deserve Robin. I don't deserve Nightwing. I don't--. Fuck. I'm so fucking stupid."
Dick spun on his knees towards the damp cave wall, arm rearing back to slam his fist into the rough surface. Bruce rushed forward in an attempt to stop him, but he wasn't able to stop the man before his hand made a sickening crack against the wall. He came up behind Dick, arms surrounding him to hold him in place and prevent any further damage. Dick fought back, his characteristic anger mingling with the fear toxin.
"No!" The word ripped from Dick's throat as he struggled against Bruce, desperately trying to grapple for the soothing feeling of violence against oneself. He tried to claw at the arms pinning him, but was unable to do much damage between the strange angle and the pain that was caused by his now doubly hurt hand. His knuckles had been split roughly open against the stone of the cave wall and his fingers were still sporting half dried blood from his earlier stint with the asphalt. Bruce held on tight to the struggling man, protecting him from himself.
"It's okay, Dick," he spoke firmly, just loud enough to be heard above Dick's grunts, "I'm right here, chum. I'm not hurt, but you are. You just have to let us help you." Dick continued to struggle, his strength starting to fail him as the toxin raged through his system. He let out a pitiful whimper, the anger fading to tears.
"But what if I do hurt you? What if I fall and it kills you, Dad?"
The words, while whispered, managed to echo through the whole cave, reverberating through Bruce's chest. He breathed in slowly, steeling himself, and willing his heart to slow from its vibrating pace that was reminiscent of a speedster.
"You won't."
Dick's bottom lip trembled, the tears falling just a little harder. He slumped down in Bruce's arms, still grasping lightly at them with shaking hands. They sat in the silence, save for Dick's soft sobs, each one a new laceration on Bruce's already worn heart. Alfred approached with the antidote shortly after and it was a simple process to administer it to the now exhausted Dick. His body relaxed almost immediately, the tears slowing and the tiredness settling in.
Bruce grunted a soft thanks to Alfred before once again lifting Dick up in his arms. He carried him up the stairs and out of the cave. Each step he took reminded him of the countless times he had carried this boy, this man, his son, from the cave after he'd fallen asleep or the worse nights, when he'd been hurt. It was a familiar weight and an even more familiar path to carry him in his arms up and up to his bedroom. It was a short trip, that ended the same as every previous one. He placed the man on his bed, always ready for him, thanks to Alfred, and gently pulled the blankets up to tuck him in lightly. Dick was barely awake, still coming down from the toxin as Bruce pulled up a chair from the side and settled into it. It was a perfect replica of so many past nights spent in this very same room. Bruce lifted a hand to gently stroke Dick's hair, brushing it back from his eyes. Dick seemed to relax even more, eyes fluttering shut with the contact. His breathing evened out and as he started to drift off, Bruce whispered a final statement to him, followed by a soft kiss to his forehead.
"You have always been good enough."
Bruce wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep too, but he woke up to a blanket on his lap, probably Alfred's doing, and a fully awake Dick in front of him, who was in the process of attempting to sneakily take a photo of him sleeping. He let out a grunt and sat up, stretching his aching body with a grimace.
The grin on Dick's face got bigger as he took several more photos before Bruce shot him a tired glare and he finally put his phone down.
"Sleep well, old man?"
"Hrn."
"Eloquent as always, B."
He let out a laugh at the glare that had situated itself more permanently on Bruce's face. As his laugh quieted, the smile on Dick's face faded as well. What was left was Dick looking concerned as he looked down at his hands resting in his lap. Bruce wanted nothing more than to put the smile back on his face, to wipe away the nervousness that was spilling out from Dick's body.
Before he could say anything, Dick swallowed, looking back up at Bruce with a tentative look in his eyes.
"I, uh," He cleared his throat, "Sorry about last night, I should have seen that guy was still awake."
Bruce narrowed his eyes at the apology. There was no way Dick could have known what was coming, hell, Bruce had barely had time to call out to him about the approaching canister. He took a shallow breath before speaking.
"It wasn't your fault."
Dick opened his mouth to respond, no doubt to argue, but Bruce held up a hand to quiet him.
"It doesn't matter what happened. What matters is that you're still here. And if you'll let me... I want to continue to be here to catch you when you fall."
It was silent for a long moment, so long that Bruce started to wonder if he'd said the wrong thing and managed to alienate Dick more, before he found himself getting nearly knocked over in his chair by the force of the hug that Dick launched himself into. He brought his arms up, willingly submitting to the embrace, once again holding his son. It felt like the past again, a tight hug in a childhood bedroom, with rays of sunlight peeking in through the curtains. Things weren't the same as before, and they never would be, but some part of them both healed with that hug.