#haly grayson

[vexic929]

Only With the Falling of the Dusk

Chapter 1

Warnings: graphic description of a corpse

info on Ricki and Brie here and here

"Units needed above the Chelsea tunnel near Coventry and North Madison; Caucasian woman, mid-30s, unresponsive." The familiar voice of the dispatcher rattled over the radio just as Ricki cracked open the ginseng water she'd purchased at the convenience store. Lin, her partner for the evening, groaned.

"God, I'd like five seconds to take at least one bite of my sandwich." Lin grumbled, shifting in her seat and putting her seatbelt back on as she started the ambulance up.

"That's Gotham's side of the tunnel." Ricki commented, brow furrowing as she took a sip before placing the bottle in the cup holder.

Lin shrugged, putting the vehicle in gear. "Closed off too, we'll have to go around. I'd bet anything they're swamped over there if they're calling us. My money's on Freeze or Scarecrow."

Ricki hummed noncommittally. The ambulance weaved through the evening traffic, sirens blaring as Lin navigated the familiar streets. Ricki stared out the window, her mind already racing through possible scenarios. Trouble in Gotham often came with complications and a tunnel closed for months for construction and legal red tape meant possible gang activity. She didn't bother responding to Lin's guess; it didn't matter who was responsible, the scene was going to be a mess either way.

They were the first on the scene, Ricki assumed because Lin was right and the GCPD had their hands full, but they didn't need the police presence to lay out the crime scene.

"Holy shit..." Lin gasped, leaning over the steering wheel and craning her neck to see the grisly scene clearly.

Hundreds of feet above them hung the body, suspended like a grotesque marionette from the side of the scaffolding. The victim's arms were stretched wide, pinned in place by long, thick knives embedded deep into the steel beams. Ricki climbed out of the cab on autopilot as she processed her initial look at the scene.

"How the hell are we gonna get her down?" Lin asked, voice shaky, as she came around to join Ricki at the back of the ambulance.

Ricki didn't answer Lin immediately. The knives, each one gleaming in the dim light, were driven into the victim's hands with a precision that sent a shiver down her spine. Whoever did this knew what they were doing and hadn't encountered much resistance.

"Don't worry about that yet," Ricki said finally, her voice cool and measured. She grabbed her medical bag and started toward the scaffolding, her steps purposeful and steady.

Lin hesitated, glancing up at the body, "'unresponsive'. Yeah, no shit." Lin muttered as she grabbed her own medical bag and followed.

When they reached the base of the scaffolding, Ricki knelt down, examining the ground around it. Deep claw marks marred the concrete, as if some wild animal had torn through the area in a frenzy. Ricki frowned, tracing one of the marks with her gloved fingers. The width and depth suggested something large - too small to be Killer Croc but definitely too big to be a dog - maybe an animal from Gotham Zoo?

"What the fuck?" Lin whispered. "What the fuck left those?"

Ricki pushed herself up to her feet again, turning her attention back to the body. "Dunno, bobcat maybe?"

"What if it's still here? It could be in the tunnel!" Lin hissed and Ricki fought not to roll her eyes.

Ricki's eyes narrowed as she took in the scene. The claw marks didn't fit with the precision of the knives. It was as if two different entities had come together to create this macabre display. She scanned the surrounding area, taking note of the darkened corners and shadows that could easily hide a lurking predator. She needed a closer look, ideally before GCPD arrived.

"I'm going up."

"Ricki-" Lin started to protest but Ricki had already hauled herself up several feet of scaffolding and concrete with her bare hands. "Be careful!"

Ricki took a moment to perch herself less precariously on the beams once she'd reached the victim, inhaling the familiar cold, damp air of the Gotham night. She examined the wounds with a practiced gaze, taking note of the discoloration around the entry points. It wasn't just blood; the flesh had an unnatural grayish hue, as though it had begun necrotizing before death. There were more claw marks through the concrete and steel beams in a way that suggested the creature had had no trouble scaling the sheer wall - though, it didn't look like the creature had actually injured the victim at all, at least not from what was currently visible.

Ricki leaned in closer, examining the smallest knife, lodged in the victim's décolletage through the collar of her coat. Its blade was short and wide but honed to a razor's edge that gleamed under the flickering work lights above. The handle, dark and smooth, was curved to fit comfortably in the palm of the hand, angled for stabbing; near the base, a ring was carved into the steel, allowing for a solid grip.

Etched into the blade was an owl's face, stylized and eerie, its hollow eyes seeming to follow Ricki as the dim light caught them. These knives were clearly custom, meticulous and detailed. Part of a wealthy connoisseur's collection or maybe someone's expensive hobby. Regardless, the culprit was probably part of Gotham's Elite...not that that narrowed it down considerably.

The toxin didn’t kill outright, meaning it was either meant to prolong suffering or weaken the victim to the point where resistance was futile - Ricki assumed the latter if not both judging by the location of her body. Whoever did this wanted their victim alive long enough to experience the agony of being pinned like a macabre butterfly. It seemed like a punishment or warning, a message of some kind...but to whom? And why?

The hem of the victim's designer dress and coat flapped into the corner of Ricki's vision with the wind, pulling her out of her thoughts and into action. She pressed two fingers to the side of the woman's neck to confirm what was already obvious.

"No pulse." Ricki called down to Lin. "Looks like she's been dead for a while."

"I'll call it in, can we go?" Lin asked and Ricki shifted slightly.

"Not yet."

Lin, who had been pacing nervously at the base of the scaffolding, finally snapped. "Ricki, come on! This is way above our pay grade, this isn't even our city, let the GCPD handle it!"

Ricki ignored Lin, adjusting her footing to get a closer look at the other blades. They were embedded deep but she could tell the shape resembled that of a kukri; the blade sleek with a sharp curve.

The wind picked up, biting through her uniform and carrying the stench of death to her nose along with an additional peculiar, sweet smell. Some sort of candy? No, anise. The poison probably but she couldn't place it.

"Damn it, Ricki, this isn't our job! We're supposed to stabilize and transport, not play detective! If there's no one to stabilize, we're done here! Get down, please!" Lin's voice was a mix of fear and frustration, but Ricki didn't waver, clicking on her pen light and pulling out a scalpel and sample bag.

She carefully scraped a small amount of residue from the blade into the sample bag, then sealed it and tucked it securely into her medical bag. She took one last look at the scene, her eyes sweeping over the woman's lifeless form, the intricate knives, and the claw marks below.

Ricki descended the scaffolding swiftly, her movements fluid and controlled. She landed lightly beside Lin, who was visibly relieved to see her back on solid ground.

"You should've gone into law enforcement if you wanna be that up close and personal. Come on, I already radio'd it in."

Ricki didn't respond to Lin's comment, but the hint of annoyance in her eyes was clear as she made her way back to the ambulance. Lin followed closely behind, muttering under her breath, as the first GCPD cruiser pulled up.

"Holy shit." Detective Montoya muttered as he stepped out, echoing Lin's earlier sentiment. Ricki ignored him as well, climbing into the passenger side of the ambulance and closing the door with an audible thud.

Inside the ambulance, Ricki pulled out her notebook and began to jot down observations. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, piecing together the evidence she had gathered. She knew one of Gotham's own vigilantes would probably be looking into it themselves, but her curiosity wouldn't let her rest until she had some answers.

Lin slammed her door shut, shaking her head. "Grayson, I swear, you're gonna get yourself killed one of these days with all this extracurricular BS."

"She pissed the wrong people off." Ricki commented, glancing back up at the body as Lin was directed by another officer to take a detour back to Blüdhaven, away from the road they were in the process of closing off. "Whoever they are, they used her as a warning. She won't be the last victim like this."

"I know you're from Gotham but do you have to be so damn cryptic? It's creepy."

Ricki remained focused on her notes. She was used to Lin's complaints and she knew her own single-minded approach often put her at odds with her colleagues. She didn't care much about being liked though, she cared about getting the job done.

The drive back to Blüdhaven was quiet, the air heavy with the weight of what they'd seen. Ricki's mind continued to churn, replaying the details of the scene over and over. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Bat-signal appear over Gotham in the side-view mirror.

"They should've just called Batwoman from the start, would've saved us a trip. Think we can get GCPD to compensate the gas mileage?"

Lin's attempt at lightening the mood with a joke fell flat. Ricki didn't even glance at her, too engrossed in the scene playing out in her mind. Lin sighed, shaking her head slightly, and focused on the road ahead, leaving Ricki to her thoughts.

The rest of the drive was silent, the tension between them like a physical barrier, and Ricki wasted no time lingering at the hospital longer than it took to fill out the paperwork for the evening. She entered her apartment in Blüdhaven at half past one, the quiet darkness welcoming her like an old friend. Haly, her three-legged pitbull puppy, greeted her with a happy wag of his tail and a nuzzle against her leg.

Ricki dropped her bag by the door, crouching down to scratch behind Haly's ears. "Hey, buddy," she murmured, a warm smile spreading across her face as the puppy's tail thumped against the floor. "Sorry I'm late. We'll get you fed and then go for a walk, okay?"

Haly's paws, still too big for his body, made a soft, clumsy sound as he trotted to his food bowl. Ricki moved to the kitchen, grabbing the dog food and pouring it in. Haly didn't waste any time, Ricki watched him fondly for a moment before straightening up.

She moved around the small apartment with ease, the television playing an old sitcom - left on to keep Haly company. The low murmur of voices filled the space, a soft hum in the background as she pulled off her uniform and tugged her dark hair free of the ponytail she'd worn all shift, crossing the room to her bedroom and ensuite bath.

Ricki splashed cold water on her face, the coolness a welcome wake-up. Her reflection in the mirror was careworn, her thoughts still on the scene she’d just left. The ornate knives, the poison, the claw marks - it all pointed to something far more sinister than a random act of violence. She needed to talk to Batwoman, but that was easier said than done. Their last conversation had ended with Ricki storming off, and they hadn’t spoken since. A low growl of frustration escaped her lips as she dried her face with a towel.

"Damn it, Brie…" she muttered under her breath, knowing full well that their estrangement was only making things more complicated. Haly barked from the sitting room, pulling Ricki out of her thoughts. She sighed and tossed the towel onto the counter, moving quickly to the spartan living area. Haly's bark was insistent, an impatient reminder that he was ready for their walk.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming," she called out, grabbing his leash from the hook by the door. She clipped it onto Haly's collar and gave him a gentle ruffle on the head. "Let's get some fresh air, huh?"

[frownyalfred]

It actually makes a lot of sense that Bruce was one of the few people left standing in the crowd at Haly’s Circus when Dick’s parents died.

Watching two innocent people plummet to their deaths is gruesome. It’s shocking. It can be horribly traumatic, depending on the blunt force trauma of hitting the ground. They might not have died right away. They might have bled and made awful noises that were heard even above the sounds of the crowd.

But Bruce is Batman. Bruce saw his parents get murdered right in front of him. And he knows the sounds and sights of someone dying. He’s hardened himself to stay calm in a situation like that, both through trauma and practice.

I think the image of a young Dick Grayson making eye contact with the one unshaken person in the crowd is chilling. A man standing resolute when everyone else is screaming, sadness etched across his face. But not panic. Not confusion. Resignation, maybe.

[miasonwing]

[dragonpyre]

Reverse Robin au but the ages aren't changed. Just adoption order.

[were-wolverine]

“dick grayson is a rich kid” “dick grayson is a cop”

you mean the dick grayson who spent the first 9ish years of his life in a traveling circus? who probably lived in a trailer? who was put in juvie for weeks after being orphaned? who was likely taught not to trust cops?

you mean the dick grayson who refused to use bruce’s money once he left the manor? who lived in a shitty apartment in Blüdhaven and worked a job to afford it? who is very independent from bruce?

you mean the dick grayson who saw firsthand the corruption in both gotham and blüdhaven’s police department? who became a vigilante to do what the cops couldn’t/wouldn’t do?

you mean the dick grayson who, after becoming a millionaire (from alfred’s inheritance), gave all of that money to charity? that dick grayson?

[notfeelingthyaster]

i was trying to organize the difference between the batboy's ages and i failed miserably, so i've decided tim was actually a fetus when dick's parents died and watched from the uterus

[allovesthings]

Dick Grayson: is an extremely independent person living alone who struggled with money but refused to ask Bruce for it even though he was broke several times.

Some interpretations of him: himbo trust fund baby....

[casscainmainly]

Place your bets!

[incorrectbatfam]

Do you have hc with the batkids together with Damian's pets? Like who over feeds the pet, or who brush the Alfred the cat or batcow, who sleep with batcow, or who hug the pet in a bad moment

This also could include Ace and Harley if you want

Also I love your blog 💖💖💖✨✨

Ace pulls Cass out of bed when she hits snooze

Titus follows Steph around waiting for her to drop food

Duke walks around with Alfred the cat asleep in his hoodie

Barbara reads new library books to Bat-Cow and gets her opinion

Dick rants about his day to Goliath

When no one's around, Jason talks to Haly in the third person and refers to himself as a puppy uncle

Jerry terrorizes Tim in the shower

[forgotten-daydreamer]

I think people forget that in addition to all the shit that Dick goes through in the YJ animated show, like losing Wally, countless betrayals/double agent-y stuff, losing even more teammates, watching Babs get paralysed, etc, Dick also lost Jason in that universe.

And we don't really get to see much of it, we get a glimpse of it only when Dick himself tells Tim "Just don't die", and later when Kaldur says "Now Jason is dead".

But Dick goes through that too. Despite all the suffering he was put through ever since S1 basically (Haly's, failsafe, "I don't want to be the Batman", ...), we collectively need to remember that he lost Jason too, there.

Not to mention, the potential that the next season has (they must make it.) with the Sanctuary.

[vexic929]

Only With the Falling of the Dusk

Chapter 2

Chapter 1: link

Warnings: blood

Ricki's fingers moved expertly over the various tools and gadgets strewn across the surface as she stood at her workbench, the only lighting from her laptop, the television, and a small desk lamp. She adjusted the wiring in one of her modified escrima sticks, fingers dancing across the fine strands of copper, the small blue light blinking on as she tested the voltage. With a satisfied nod, she set the stick aside with its twin.

Her phone buzzed against the wooden surface, the vibration cutting through the silence. The screen illuminated with a familiar name: Barty. Ricki hesitated, her brow furrowing as she debated whether to answer before finally doing so.

"I assume you aren't calling for a friendly chat? What's up?"

"Montoya said you were at the Chelsea Tunnel tonight," Barty's voice rattled through the speaker as Ricki set the phone down and moved on to tightening her grapple. "GCPD ruled it a suicide."

The screwdriver slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor, and Ricki's entire demeanor shifted. Her eyes narrowed, and she snatched the phone off the workbench, gripping it tightly. "What the hell do you mean they ruled it a suicide?"

"Closed the case faster than I've seen them close anything. Montoya's pissed, that's why he called Batwoman. Thought I'd give you a heads up before she contacts you, she knows you were there, she's gonna want the real details."

Ricki groaned, leaning against the workbench. "What's Commissioner Gordon have to say on it?"

"She retired last year," Barty said, his tone icy. "You'd know that if you kept in contact with any of us."

Ricki winced internally. "Right. Look, send over the police report and let Brie know I'll send her my findings later."

"Fine. But you're going to have to talk to her sooner or later," Barty said and Ricki made a face, inspecting the chipped point on one of her darts.

"I choose later. Thanks, Barty."

The call ended, leaving a tense silence in its wake. An email pinged moments later on her laptop, the faint blue light of the screen reflecting in her eyes as she opened the encrypted file and the police report Barty had sent flickered onto the screen. She skimmed the pages, her brows knitting together in disbelief. It was so clean it bordered on parody - no mention of claw marks, knives, or the unnatural position of the body. Instead, the report painted a picture of an unfortunate soul who had chosen to jump, using the abandoned tunnel as the perfect location to avoid intervention.

The photos were worse - not a claw mark or knife in sight and the body had clearly been moved, now lying unnaturally at the mouth of the tunnel. It would've been less work to rule it an animal attack, Ricki thought.

If the GCPD was sweeping this under the rug, there had to be a reason, and she wasn't about to sit around waiting for another body to show up. Ricki pulled her Nightwing suit from its hidden compartment in the closet, sliding into the familiar fabric like a second skin. She retrieved her escrima sticks from the table, slipping them into their holsters, and set her mask in place. Tapping the hidden button on the side of her mask, the HUD flickered to life across her vision, displaying information from Oracle's database. Ricki scanned through the latest reports of violent crimes in both Blüdhaven and Gotham, looking for any patterns that might connect to the attack tonight. Nothing.

She exhaled sharply, frustration simmering beneath the surface. She knew it would be a long shot. If the culprit was so determined to cover their tracks that they had the GCPD in their pocket, then it was unlikely there would be anything. Still, she'd been hoping for some sort of lead.

With Haly settled back into his bed with a chew toy and the TV still murmuring in the background, Ricki slipped out of her apartment window and into the Blüdhaven night. Her boots hit the fire escape lightly as she ascended, scaling the building with ease until she reached the rooftop. From there, she had a clear view of the city - the sea of lights flickering in the dark, a mirror of the stars above. The streets of Blüdhaven were quieter than Gotham's but still carried an undercurrent of danger.

"Alright, Blüd, what've you got for me tonight?" Ricki murmured, tapping her comms to activate the police scanner.

Static crackled through the comms as Ricki settled into a crouch, her eyes scanning the cityscape below. The scanner cycled through the familiar frequencies, the rapid-fire chatter of police codes and updates humming in her ear. Nothing out of the ordinary. A few routine break-ins, a drunk and disorderly, a minor fender-bender. Nothing that warranted her immediate attention. Good.

Oracle's icon flashed across the HUD, taking her by surprise - Barty didn't make it a habit of stretching the commlink that far, he usually stuck to Gotham's vigilantes.

"Nightwing: Delta protocol. Montoya was attacked - he's safe, Hood got to him in time, but consider anyone who was on the scene a target."

Ricki's stomach twisted and she immediately set off, her grapple shooting to a nearby lamppost with a satisfying thwip as she swung herself along toward Lin's apartment. "I don't know any other officers that were present but Montoya will."

"Might not matter if they're in this person's pocket."

Ricki's heart raced as she neared Lin's apartment complex. If Montoya had been targeted, then whoever staged that crime scene tonight was tying up loose ends, and they didn't care who they had to kill. Ricki landed on the fire escape outside Lin's window with practiced ease, the slight metallic thud barely audible in the stillness of the night. The window was ajar but darkness swallowed the room beyond.

The dark interior of Lin's apartment felt unnervingly still as Ricki slipped inside, every muscle tense. The living room was well-furnished though it looked to Ricki like it had come straight from the pages of an IKEA catalogue; neat, tidy, and classic boring beige. It looked like Lin hadn't been home at all...but something still felt wrong. Off. Ricki crept through the apartment, listening for the faintest of sounds, eyes open for the smallest piece of evidence.

The kitchen was another story entirely. Deep gashes marred the linoleum floor, claw marks identical to those at the crime scene. Blood marred the tile, trailing toward the counter. Broken shards of a ceramic mug lay scattered around a toppled chair in a puddle of mixed coffee, creamer, and more blood. The coffee pot had rolled to the doorway, half its contents still inside.

"Oh no..."

Ricki's breath caught in her throat, her pulse hammering in her ears. She stepped carefully over the broken shards, her eyes darting from one piece of evidence to the next. She needed to find out if Lin was still here - alive or dead. The blood trail led into the adjacent hallway as though she'd had been dragged. Ricki followed it, bracing herself as she pushed open the bedroom door to find...

Nothing. The bedroom was as empty as the living room and nearly as clean except for the blood streaked across the carpet. Ricki set her jaw and took a slow breath, her mind racing as she took in the scene. Someone had taken Lin but they hadn't killed her yet, there was still time. Ricki scanned the room, searching for any sign, any clue as to where Lin might have been taken. Her gaze fell on the cracked screen of Lin's cell phone lying near the dresser, smeared with blood. The lockscreen was of Lin, grinning brightly from a towel on the beach, sunglasses perched on her nose and curly hair partially hidden under a large sunhat. Ricki felt the first tendrils of genuine fear unfurling in her chest. Lin might be a pain in the ass but she didn't deserve this. No one did.

"Lin's gone," Ricki reported into the comms, making her way back to the living room. She felt more on edge the longer she stayed and she didn't like it. "They caught her in the kitchen. She might be alive but she's lost a lot of blood."

"Any sign of where they went?" Barty asked.

"No idea. I'll keep you posted."

The bitter, metallic scent of blood lingered in Ricki's nostrils as she stepped back into Lin's living room, her senses on high alert. She needed to move - every second wasted was a second Lin might not have, especially with the amount of blood on the floor. Her eyes flickered across the space, searching for any last shred of evidence, something that could clue her in on where they'd taken her partner. The heater clicked on and Ricki heaved a sigh, kneeling in the kitchen doorway to inspect the claw marks more closely.

A sweet scent overpowered the blood scent long enough for Ricki to identify it as trichloromethane before the floor rushed up at her and everything went black.

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

I was quickly reading up on the Talon comic, in particular Issue #5 where we got a prologue/recap of the past few with Bruce and Dick and I came across ….this

Does….Dick actually know who Calvin Rose Is????

Cause if that’s what this implies….. I FREAKING KNEW IT XD

I KNEW THEY MIGHT’VE KNOWN ABOUT EACH OTHER AT THE LEAST DURING THEIR DAYS AT HALY’S

Where the Hell is that Crossover Between these Two, DC? I Wants It

[mrmanbat]

I don’t remember where I saw this but I remember this vivid scene in my head.

Jason had just died. Dick had just found this out and went to get vengeance for his dead brother,

So he went looking for the joker and ended up in a warehouse filled with old Haly’s circus clown props.

At one point Dick finds one of those funhouse mirrors that distort his mirror. He remembers all of these items.

He remembers playing around with the clown props. He remembers spraying one of the clowns with their own fake flower and running away laughing. He remembers the clowns that were his family.

And now this vile man- no not man- this vile thing is playing dress up in his family’s clothes, tormenting Dick by tainting his childhood memories with blood.

Anyway hope you had a nice day-

[farshootergotme]

Has dick really lost that many people? To make a whole ass list?

Well, let's see... (keep in mind I haven't read lots of comics so there could definitely be more than what I'm about to mention)

- His parents.

- A few (Teen) Titans members like Donna Troy (brought back to life), Wally West (more than once if I'm not wrong, but it'll depend which era you're reading) and Jericho (aka. Joseph Wilson). And there could definitely be more but I couldn't say for sure.

- Jason Todd.

- The people who lived in the same building as him who he was friends with, that's around 20 people?

- Haly's Circus was burnt down twice and I know one of those times at least another 20 people died and 100 were severely injured (remember many of the members in the circus were like family to him).

- Do we count the city? Because even though he wasn't close with every single person, Dick genuinely cares for the people of Bludhaven and Deathstroke killed over 100,000 citizens.

- Bruce Wayne (he was technically dead, even if in reality he was lost in time).

- Damian Wayne.

- Alfred Pennyworth.

- Tim Drake has died at least once but I don't know if it's happened in the main continuity or if his death has only happened in an alternative universe.

And I have a feeling there's a bunch of people I'm forgetting, but these are the ones I can mention off the top of my head. Not counting the Bludhaven Citizens, that's around 50 people or so.

If anyone can add more to the list, that'd be great.

[were-wolverine]

can we talk more about how dick didn’t go to school until he lived with bruce? like. bro grew up in a traveling circus

idk i just wish that was touched upon more in fics and stuff. he most likely lived in a trailer with his parents, was probably homeschooled by them and maybe other members of the troupe

i also wish we got to see more of haly’s in general because like. that was his family. they watched him grow up! and for him to just get taken in by some millionaire and never see them again? dick grayson would never leave his family in the dark like that

anyway this is all just to say: dick should’ve stayed in contact with other troupe members and visited them/had them over. in my heart they send him postcards from every place they perform, and he has haly’s number (everyone takes turns talking to him when he calls)

they would probably recognize dick if they met robin cuz of the color scheme & quadruple flip, but i don’t think they’d ever really have the opportunity bc yk. traveling circus

i just want him to have a bunch of aunts and uncles from the circus that teach him cool stuff and tell him fun stories. they go to his high school graduation and try to make it to every birthday

[magnoliasandarson]

World’s Best Big Brother

Richard Grayson had always wanted siblings. Back in the circus, his parents had laughed good-naturedly when he started suggesting names for a baby that would never come. He had a list of names a mile long that he went through during rehearsals, shouting them as he soared. He just knew he would be a good big brother- the best.

When his parents died, and he moved into the massive mausoleum that was Wayne Manor, his hope for a little brother or sister was relegated to his dreams. When he slept, another little bird followed him through the sky, a small hand reached for his. He just knew he would be a good big brother- the best.

Then, his little family shattered, and his dream died in a violent crash. He left home and went to Bludhaven because maybe he didn’t have anything left to keep him in Gotham. There was a wound bleeding into his new life; he felt it when he happened upon children on patrol. He brought them to safety, but his thoughts lingered with them. Were they safe? Were they loved? He could never stomach the idea of a child in danger, and he checked up on them as Detective Grayson. He would’ve been a good big brother- the best.

Jason showed up in a crude bastardization of Dick’s dearest dream. A boy with his same hair and eyes, wearing his family’s colors, flying just as he had. When he saw the new Robin in action, he nearly threw up. He was twelve. Dick hated that Bruce had tossed away his name and life to the next boy, but he loathed the fact that Jason was a child. He tried not to let it bother him around his newfound little brother, but bits of his resentment seeped through. He hated himself for it. 

Little by little, the bitterness faded away, and the fear for his brother’s safety became an afterthought. Jason was a good Robin, better than Dick had been, and seeing him fly was everything Dick had ever hoped. Dick was at every play, every rec-league basketball game, every bake sale- he was there. Jason bought him a mug on his birthday, “World’s Best Big Brother”, Dick never drank from it, just kept it displayed at the front of a shelf like a trophy. He was the best big brother, and he had the proof.

Then, Jason died. Suddenly, he wasn’t a big brother anymore. He didn’t even get to go to the funeral.

Where had he been? When his brother needed him, where had Nightwing been? When Jason was beaten to death by a villain Dick had thrown into Arkham more times than he could count- where had he been?

What had been so important that he hadn’t noticed his brother was going to run away? What could possibly have been so important that he ignored his little wing- the half to his soul he had waited his whole life for?

Dick was a flurry of tears and hurt when he got back to Bludhaven. Bruce had fractured his jaw; Dick was familiar enough with the pain to know damn well what that punch had done. There was mud from the grave staining his jeans as he swayed in front of a wall of photos. 

A gapped-tooth smile and sparkling blue eyes stared back at him from behind glass. Bile rose in Dick’s throat as he snatched the frame from the wall and hurled it at the mug on his bookshelf. The sound of ceramic shattering was covered by wounded screams as Dick ripped every smiling picture down and threw them across his apartment.

Jason had been wrong. 

Dick was the worst big brother ever.