Fic: Welcome Home
**SPOILERS for Nightwing #93-94, but if you've hung around my journal long enough, you probably already know those spoilers anyway.**
So I was flipping through Nightwing #94 the other day when I noticed a rather interesting (to me, anyway) panel. You can find it here--it's on the third page down after the text "Nightwing #94." It's a flashback to right after the rape scene, and Nightwing is throwing up while Tarantula stands in the background. Being the author of the obscenely long and cheesy Broken Glass, in which a teenage Dick struggles with anorexia and bulimia... it caught my attention.
Title: Welcome Home
Rating: PG-13, I guess
Characters: Dick Grayson. Vague mention of Tarantula.
Pairings: Hints of Dick/Babs, because that's what was in the comic.
Disclaimer: If I owned, this fic would be unnecessary.
Inspiration: Nightwing #94. Also, this is technically a follow-up/sequel/continuation to Broken Glass, but seriously, you don't have to slog through all that. This fic stands quite well on its own and is much shorter.
WARNING: May be triggering or disturbing to those with eating disorders/weight issues and/or those who have been sexually assaulted.
Synopsis: Dick just wants a little comfort, that's all. AU set during Nightwing #93.
He hasn’t done this since he was sixteen. And honestly, he hadn’t been planning on doing this ever again, but after she was done with him and he finally fully realized what had happened… well, he doubts he would have been able to keep his lunch down anyway. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he wrenches off a bloody black and blue glove and violently rams a finger down his throat.
It doesn’t really make him feel better. He knew better than to expect it to. Still, he can’t help but notice the sense of calm that rolls over him in hot waves as soon as he finishes. After keeping everything-the fire, the break-up, the explosion, the unemployment-bottled up inside to be able to keep fighting, even this cruel mockery of comfort is better than none at all.
As he wipes his mouth on his sleeve and tries to get the shaking to stop, a quiet voice in the back of his mind whispers welcome home Dickie...
He recognizes the voice, and he supposes that he should be afraid of where it will lead him or ashamed of himself for being weak enough to let it back into his life. But then he remembers Bruce, who won't have anything to do with him. He remembers Babs, who doesn't want to be with him anymore. He remembers the Titans, who haven't so much as called him to ask if he's okay.
Maybe they don't know what's happened yet, but they're all detectives for pity's sake, they have to know something. He knows they have their own lives and their own families that keep them busy, but is one little text message really so much to ask? Just one? If it is... maybe they just don't care.
So when that little voice starts giving orders, telling him what he has to do, settling right back in as comfortably as if it had never left, he is not afraid. He is not ashamed. Instead, he simply thinks to himself At least someone cares...
--
...Well, I for one am now depressed. Here, let's go laugh at Disco Clark for a while.