May Challenge fic... shut up, I haven't gone to bed, it's still may somewhere.
Title: What’s there to live for?
Rating: PG
Characters: Dick, Tim
Disclaimer: Don’t own, wish I did
Summary: Dick nearly dies. Tim doesn’t want him to.
Warnings: Not betaed.
A/N: For merfilly’s May challenge.
Dick powered through his moves, letting the wind whistle like the beep of an answering machine through his ears. He was mostly on automatic, going through the motions of his patrol, taking down criminals quickly, without flourish before taking to the skies again. The rain poured around him and he made the necessary adjustments, continuing to fly and try to forget about everything. He wished it was working. But nothing in his life was, so why should this have been?
Roy was refusing to take his calls. Every time he called it went to Roy’s answering machine. He didn’t mean to screw up again, he just didn’t seem to be able to do anything right. He was scared to go to Roy’s house, scared that Roy would just kick him to the curb in person, so he’d know that Roy didn’t want him anymore. Know for a fact, and not just that Roy wasn’t picking up the phone. With the phone he could at least pretend that he was busy and not getting the calls and too busy to return them.
He’s screwed up his relationships so badly. Just like he’d screwed up everything else in his life. He couldn’t manage to make one thing work. He’d screwed up with the Titans, the Outsiders, Babs, Kory, Roy, Bludhaven. His younger brother was a psychotic murderer and his youngest was half a ghost when he saw him. His little sister had been drugged and he’d been content to take Batman’s questionable judgment on her, instead of investigating it for himself. Another failure for him. He was tired of pretending that all was well, he wanted it to all be well. He was tired in general really, not something he was unused to, but still… He didn’t deserve to be Nightwing. He didn’t deserve it at all.
Tim had been tipped off by his brother informant that Dick seemed to be on one of his downwards spirals. Dick’s spirals seemed to be getting lower and lower. Tim hypothesized that the spirals were lower due to the affects of not being a Titan for so long. The titans used to be there for Dick, to pull him out. He’d been trying to get to New York for two weeks. Things had been too rough, but his informant had reported that Dick was likely to do something stupid in the very near future if they didn’t hold an intervention. Tim had argued his way into a free night and driven up to New York, only stopping to put on his uniform, and exchange likely routes with his informant.
He’d barely caught up to the clearly distracted, overpower his moves Nightwing, when apparently, Nightwing’s grapple gun misfired, or jammed, or something. Nightwing was headed downwards seventy stories. If Robin didn’t time this exactly right, they’d both be dying, And while that sometimes seemed like the better option for Tim, Dick had far too much to live for. Dick still had so many people who cared about him. The original Titans, especially Roy. Who if he called one more time checking up on Dick, Tim was going to find a phone cord to tie the two of them together with. And use really complicated knots, so they’d be forced to talk to each other. Tim and Jay, the rest of the Titans, Batman. Superman, the entire heroic community.
Tim swooped in low, grabbing for Dick and muttering under his breath that midair grabs would be so much easier if Dick would be sensible and wear a utility belt like any sane person. He swears and nearly tears up when it feels like his arm is going to pull it’s way out of his socket before he gets a decent grip on Dick.
For a moment Dick had felt sheer panic as his grapple gun jammed. Falling though, he’d felt almost peaceful, knowing his death was coming. He had a lot of regrets, sure, but he’d screwed up so much. . .he deserved it. Karma. But then an arm wrapped around his waist, nearly causing him to black out, and he didn’t want to as much. He just wanted to be able to rewind, redo everything he’d messed up.
He looked up, to see Robin’s stern face, flying them to a skyscraper and relaxed. Robin would get them to somewhere safe, and then he could go back to his patrol. Tim took them skyways back to his New York nest. He motioned Dick to follow him down the stairs and into the attic apartment that he’d rented. His expression didn’t invite any opposition and Dick followed.
“Dick, what the hell?” Tim sprayed adhesive on his mask.
“It jammed,” Nightwing replied.
“Your stuff doesn’t jam, you’re the one who’s into keeping equipment in perfect condition, you go over it before you patrol, it shouldn’t have jammed,” Tim retorted.
“I didn’t tonight,” Dick replied.
“You haven’t been doing a lot of things, Dick,” Tim sighed. “I miss you Dick. I miss the real you. I miss my older brother, the person you used to be.” Tim’s gaze is intent and so blue into Dick’s white-out masked eyes. Tim wasn’t hiding anything, naked before Dick. Tired, and heartbroken but there.
“I’m sorry,” Nightwing slowly peeled off his mask. “I just. . .”
“I’m tired of waiting for you to get back Dick, everyone else is stepping so carefully around you, waiting for you to be who you’re supposed to be. I’m scared I’m losing you,” Tim continued watching Dick, his tone soft, and understanding. “I’m afraid, if we wait any longer, you won’t come back. Except through the phone call none of us want.” He reached out a hand, and gripped Dick’s shoulder. “Come back to us, please?”
“I…” Dick took a deep breath. “Help me? Please?” Tim’s hand was warm, so welcome. He knew what it took for Tim to start the physical contact, and was horrified he’d let things get so far. He stared into Tim’s eyes, watching them.
“All you had to do was ask,” Tim replied, holding Dick’s heartbroken gaze with his own. He opened his other arm out, and Dick fairly flew into his embrace as they sunk to the floor, Tim holding Dick tightly. They’d get through this. Somehow, they’d fix things.
*comments and criticism are welcome, appreciated and taken into consideration*
Rating: PG
Characters: Dick, Tim
Disclaimer: Don’t own, wish I did
Summary: Dick nearly dies. Tim doesn’t want him to.
Warnings: Not betaed.
A/N: For merfilly’s May challenge.
Dick powered through his moves, letting the wind whistle like the beep of an answering machine through his ears. He was mostly on automatic, going through the motions of his patrol, taking down criminals quickly, without flourish before taking to the skies again. The rain poured around him and he made the necessary adjustments, continuing to fly and try to forget about everything. He wished it was working. But nothing in his life was, so why should this have been?
Roy was refusing to take his calls. Every time he called it went to Roy’s answering machine. He didn’t mean to screw up again, he just didn’t seem to be able to do anything right. He was scared to go to Roy’s house, scared that Roy would just kick him to the curb in person, so he’d know that Roy didn’t want him anymore. Know for a fact, and not just that Roy wasn’t picking up the phone. With the phone he could at least pretend that he was busy and not getting the calls and too busy to return them.
He’s screwed up his relationships so badly. Just like he’d screwed up everything else in his life. He couldn’t manage to make one thing work. He’d screwed up with the Titans, the Outsiders, Babs, Kory, Roy, Bludhaven. His younger brother was a psychotic murderer and his youngest was half a ghost when he saw him. His little sister had been drugged and he’d been content to take Batman’s questionable judgment on her, instead of investigating it for himself. Another failure for him. He was tired of pretending that all was well, he wanted it to all be well. He was tired in general really, not something he was unused to, but still… He didn’t deserve to be Nightwing. He didn’t deserve it at all.
Tim had been tipped off by his brother informant that Dick seemed to be on one of his downwards spirals. Dick’s spirals seemed to be getting lower and lower. Tim hypothesized that the spirals were lower due to the affects of not being a Titan for so long. The titans used to be there for Dick, to pull him out. He’d been trying to get to New York for two weeks. Things had been too rough, but his informant had reported that Dick was likely to do something stupid in the very near future if they didn’t hold an intervention. Tim had argued his way into a free night and driven up to New York, only stopping to put on his uniform, and exchange likely routes with his informant.
He’d barely caught up to the clearly distracted, overpower his moves Nightwing, when apparently, Nightwing’s grapple gun misfired, or jammed, or something. Nightwing was headed downwards seventy stories. If Robin didn’t time this exactly right, they’d both be dying, And while that sometimes seemed like the better option for Tim, Dick had far too much to live for. Dick still had so many people who cared about him. The original Titans, especially Roy. Who if he called one more time checking up on Dick, Tim was going to find a phone cord to tie the two of them together with. And use really complicated knots, so they’d be forced to talk to each other. Tim and Jay, the rest of the Titans, Batman. Superman, the entire heroic community.
Tim swooped in low, grabbing for Dick and muttering under his breath that midair grabs would be so much easier if Dick would be sensible and wear a utility belt like any sane person. He swears and nearly tears up when it feels like his arm is going to pull it’s way out of his socket before he gets a decent grip on Dick.
For a moment Dick had felt sheer panic as his grapple gun jammed. Falling though, he’d felt almost peaceful, knowing his death was coming. He had a lot of regrets, sure, but he’d screwed up so much. . .he deserved it. Karma. But then an arm wrapped around his waist, nearly causing him to black out, and he didn’t want to as much. He just wanted to be able to rewind, redo everything he’d messed up.
He looked up, to see Robin’s stern face, flying them to a skyscraper and relaxed. Robin would get them to somewhere safe, and then he could go back to his patrol. Tim took them skyways back to his New York nest. He motioned Dick to follow him down the stairs and into the attic apartment that he’d rented. His expression didn’t invite any opposition and Dick followed.
“Dick, what the hell?” Tim sprayed adhesive on his mask.
“It jammed,” Nightwing replied.
“Your stuff doesn’t jam, you’re the one who’s into keeping equipment in perfect condition, you go over it before you patrol, it shouldn’t have jammed,” Tim retorted.
“I didn’t tonight,” Dick replied.
“You haven’t been doing a lot of things, Dick,” Tim sighed. “I miss you Dick. I miss the real you. I miss my older brother, the person you used to be.” Tim’s gaze is intent and so blue into Dick’s white-out masked eyes. Tim wasn’t hiding anything, naked before Dick. Tired, and heartbroken but there.
“I’m sorry,” Nightwing slowly peeled off his mask. “I just. . .”
“I’m tired of waiting for you to get back Dick, everyone else is stepping so carefully around you, waiting for you to be who you’re supposed to be. I’m scared I’m losing you,” Tim continued watching Dick, his tone soft, and understanding. “I’m afraid, if we wait any longer, you won’t come back. Except through the phone call none of us want.” He reached out a hand, and gripped Dick’s shoulder. “Come back to us, please?”
“I…” Dick took a deep breath. “Help me? Please?” Tim’s hand was warm, so welcome. He knew what it took for Tim to start the physical contact, and was horrified he’d let things get so far. He stared into Tim’s eyes, watching them.
“All you had to do was ask,” Tim replied, holding Dick’s heartbroken gaze with his own. He opened his other arm out, and Dick fairly flew into his embrace as they sunk to the floor, Tim holding Dick tightly. They’d get through this. Somehow, they’d fix things.
*comments and criticism are welcome, appreciated and taken into consideration*