|Evangeline wants to be (upintheclouds) wrote in rooms,|
@ 2014-12-03 03:20:00
|Entry tags:||!dc comics, *narrative, dick grayson|
Where: The Manor -> Damian's Cottage
What: Sads. Such sads.
When: After he visits the cave and before he calls Babs
Warnings: Sads. And also a panic attack so if you're sensitive to things like that please be mindful, it wasn't much fun to write either lmao!
The visit to the cave had been brief, and perfunctory. Seeing for himself, once again, the truth that seemed to befall him no matter where he went. His brother, his closest friend, his partner, his Robin, lying there dead and lifeless. He wanted to go to him. To see his face. To hold him. But he didn't, it wouldn't make a difference. His brother was dead. Again. Dick knew their fates back in their Gotham. The kid's life was always going to be cut short, and it would always be because Dick hadn't done well enough. He hadn't taught well enough, he hadn't fought him hard enough, he indulged him far more often than Bruce would have let him.
He loved him. He absolutely loved him. And no matter how much he insisted that there hadn't been a feeling that would ever be as bad as losing Damian. He had been wrong. Because the pain was losing Damian again. There was no soothing this ache, there was no do-over, and Dick was glad He wanted his brother to rest, he knew his own light at the end of tunnel had gone from flickering to pitch black. But even the idea that Damian would go home, like he did last time, was calming. Bittersweet, as he could only hope that Damian went to a Gotham that didn't have a Dick Grayson.
He didn't take the full blame for what Damian went through here, Damian had made some bad decisions, but he also believed he could have come back from them. He had plans to take him out of the door, he had plans to make this better. To set this right. To get through to him. He knew he had a chance, he did. He had a chance. Maybe they could never come back to Gotham, but he had a chance to help Damian. But that was over, and done. Damian's lifeless body was burned into his eyes once again - he hadn't stayed long, trying to remember something other than him cold and pale. Unmoving. Still. And eerie stillness that only meant one thing, and he wanted to forget it.
He had decided to go for a walk. Finding himself at the door of Damian's cottage without noticing he turned around and leaned against the hard wood of the door and tried to catch his breath. Heartbreak, sadness, emptiness, disappointment, it all moved through him. But anger. Anger was what anchored him to the earth. Piece by piece he dissected the events of the last time he saw Damian alive. Damian had been cruel, but he hadn't fought him. And while he was still angry about Selina, and Stephanie, and all the lives lost - the grandfather of his child was injured. Stephanie, Selina, both hurt.
And where had his other sister been? At Damian's side. Sending him into the first trap that would eventually lead to his death. There had been no hugging reunions, there had been no tears of happiness. No breakthroughs. But he hadn't fought him. It was the small shred of hope that Dick clung to. His breath was coming harder to catch, he thought he might have been having a heart attack. The more his mind teased and pulled at something he knew was right there. His sister. Who had betrayed Damian. Had set him up. Set him up, betrayed his trust when he so badly needed someone to trust. She had done this as far as he was concerned. When they'd been together before Damian had gone off the deep end Dick had imagined them having a great old time, the official Wayne children and their official Wayne attitudes.
For all he knew she had been feeding him poisonous ideas all along. The anger bubbled, and the heart attack he was definitely having would have him dead shortly. He was sure of it. His chest constricted, his head swam, his knees locked, pins and needles tingled in his feet and he actually clutched his chest. Like the lifer alert commercial. He wasn't that old. Dread, a feeling of doom washed over him. It was beating and pounding from his toes to his ears, he could hear the echo of failure and pain - fear and loss - he felt all of it and heard all of it. The Furies speaking to him. His father's voice in his ear, Damian's small frame beside him when they'd first donned cape and cowl as the Dark Knight and the Boy Wonder. All of it was by in a flash. That was how it worked right?
Maybe his whole life hadn't flashed in a timely sense, or a chronologically, but his whole life had flashed before his eyes. from beginning to end. Damian had been his whole life. The love he allowed himself to feel for that kid was supposed to have saved him from anything. They were brothers, they were friends, they were partners, they were enemy combatants from time to time. But Damian had been his whole life. And on the other side of the door, was where the rest of Dami's life was.
His breathing was coming easier, finally, after what appeared to be nearly 20 minutes, 20 minutes lost to the pure sensation of dread and fear. He was fearful of so much he couldn't imagine what to do. Tears had stained his face, his hands were angry, red cracked and bleeding for punching the door - he hadn't realized he had been doing it.
He was going to go inside, attempt to feel close to Damian and forget the preceding days. Maybe others couldn't, but Dick had to. He had to. They had remembered Jason, when he'd passed - they had remembered him when he'd come back. Damian would be remembered it. Even if only in Dick's life. Either way Damian's life - the good the bad and the really god damn ugly - deserved to be celebrated. Just maybe not today.
Instead he chose to enter the cottage, sit in a chair that Damian often sat in, close his eyes, and think. And revel in it. And call Babs.