Fic: Echoes | DCU | Dick Grayson | PG | 1/1
Title: Echoes
Fandom: DCU
Characters: Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon (briefly), and a surprise
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,391
Prompt: For merfilly's Halloween Fic Exchange: Dick Grayson as Batman; For the 2009 DCU Free For All Autumn Challenge: Scarecrow Gas, Ghost/Spirit; For bradygirl_12's 2009 DCU Fic/Art Halloween Challenge: Ghosts, Costumes, Halloween Cookies, Gotham City
Summary: After a disastrous patrol on Halloween, his first in the cape and cowl, Dick has trouble shaking off Scarecrow and Ivy's special fear-spores. Or is it something else altogether?
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: Written for . Spoilers through Batman & Robin #1.
Echoes
Naturally, patrol on the night of October thirty-first had been a fiasco almost from the get-go. After a brief period of quiet during Gotham's annual Halloween Street Fair―nothing more dangerous than an early event for the kids, really―it had been all downhill. Dick had had to resort to calling in a few favors with the Birds to help get a handle on yet another breakout from Arkham, so perfectly timed it seemed like Joker and Scarecrow had been planning it for months, with serious backup from Ivy and her specially concocted spores. But these hadn't been the good kind, oh no. A heavy wave of fear-toxin-laden spores had paved the way for inmates to make their escape good and quick, with hardly a hand raised in resistance.
Dick still wasn't sure if the antidote cocktail he'd taken had been one-hundred percent effective, even after he'd shaken off the worst of hallucinations he'd rather not think about, but at this point, worrying over it wouldn't do him any good. Hours of struggling to get all the inmates back in their padded cells and locked down tight had left him utterly dragging, and he and Robin had practically limped back to the Cave to call it a night.
But the evening wasn't over quite yet, despite midnight being long past now. There were hefty patrol reports still to file, and Dick needed to check in with the Birds to see how they were faring after the long night out. Sending Robin―months after passing the title to the youngest Bat, he still wasn't used to calling him by that name―up to bed after hitting the showers to wash away any remaining fear-spores, he threw on a pair of sweats and a Gotham Knights t-shirt, and plopped down in the big chair in front of the Cave's computer to get started.
First things first. A single tap of a key, and he was connected to Oracle.
“Oracle, B. Everyone make it back okay?”
A short pause, and a faint click signaled the pick up at the other end of the comm. “Canary and Batgirl just got in,” came the mechanized voice in return. “Looks like they're all in one piece.”
“Good. Let me know if they need any more antidote, and I'll have it there in a jiffy.”
“No problem, B. Happy Halloween. O out.”
With the connection cut, Dick sighed softly to himself, “Happy Halloween, Babs,” and then it was quiet in the Cave.
The silence felt thick around him as he sat there a moment, gathering his thoughts before opening a new file to start his report for the night. Not even the bats far above seemed to be stirring at this hour, likely sated from their evening meal and settled in to sleep it off, but Dick couldn't help an anxious feeling, as if something else was moving about the Cave.
Which was simply ridiculous, since the Cave was locked up tight. It was probably the wind, maybe even a lingering effect of the fear-spores. He'd have to run a blood test to be sure, but that could wait a little while, at least until his reports were done.
A deep breath in, and Dick straightened in the chair, shaking off the oppressive feeling. He cracked his knuckles with a series of satisfying pops, and set to the new file.
Patrol Log: 10.31.09
1900: B & R began patrol at 7600 block of Downtown between Bay St. & Gotham Blvd. Halloween street fair in progress from 7500 block to 7200 block along Keane Ave. B & R worked from 76th St. to 71st St., crossing from Bay St. to Gotham Blvd. and back once per block. No sign of criminal activity. Repeated pattern three times over the course of the hour. Street fair seemed to go well. I encouraged R to head down and participate, but he refused, emphatically.
2000: Street fair began to wind down, B & R headed toward Gotham Park to sweep area from the 5300 block to the 4700 block between Gotham Blvd. and―
Dick stopped typing abruptly, his fingers stilling on the keyboard as the sense that something had breezed past him sent a sharp chill up his spine.
Fear-spores. Had to be.
Nevertheless, he turned to do a quick visual sweep of the Cave, peering into the shadows just out of reach of the harsh light that pooled around the platforms. Just shadows, nothing more.
Not that that affirmation settled the hairs that stood up on his arms.
Shaking it off with a hard jerk, he turned back to the computer.
...and Commerce Ave. Completed one block of the usual sweep, heard alert over GCPD band that Arkham breakout had begun. Summoned car. Contacted O for backup.
2015: B & R headed east in car, cutting through Gotham Park along 51st St. toward Arkham. Birds en route.
The sudden feel of warm pressure on his shoulder propelled Dick out of the chair with a flash of adrenaline, the report abandoned yet again. With a sucked in breath of utter alarm, he twirled in place and dropped to a fighting stance, eyed wildly seeking the source of the touch.
But nothing was there. Again.
And that just cut it. Nothing was getting done as long as Dick was still under the influence of those damned spores. Another deep breath, and he saved the file before heading up to the medical platform, watching his back warily as he went.
It was a quick matter to take the blood sample, just a stick and a squeeze of a fingertip, then a smear on a slide for the computer to analyze. Probably should have just done it as soon as he and Damian got in, anyway.
Of course you should have. You know the proper procedure for dealing with Ivy's spores.
Bruce's voice came to him unbidden... on his memory? Or―?
Dick shook his head.
No. He didn't just hear that out loud.
Trying to get a hold of himself as he waited for the results, Dick scrubbed a hand over his face and raked his fingers through his hair, slumping down into the chair in front of the med-computer station. “Get a grip, Grayson,” he muttered, scowling, even as a shiver worked its way up his spine.
Damn, it was cold in the Cave tonight. He probably should've put on a sweatshirt over his tee. Maybe should've picked out thicker socks, too.
But all his attempts to gather himself and shake off the persistent feeling of unease seemed to be for naught, as the feeling of what he could only describe as a hand gripped his shoulder again, firm pressure and a lingering squeeze.
Dick.
“No!” he shouted, despite himself, leaping from the chair and shaking himself. It had been Bruce's voice again, gruff and low, just as he remembered it, but... but so unbelievably close it had felt like the man was whispering in his ear.
And that was absolutely insane. Bruce was dead. Gone. Not here. Not―
Beep!
Dick whirled again, startled at the sound of the computer signaling its completion of the blood scan. He sucked in a hard breath, chest rising with it before he blew the breath out his nose more slowly. Just the alarm. It was just the alarm.
Stepping back to the station, he leaned close and scrutinized the results.
Negative.
It was all negative. No toxins, no spores, no... nothing.
Another shiver racked his body.
Everything will be fine, Dick. I promise.
A warm squeeze on his shoulder.
Straightening as a spike of adrenaline shocked him all the way to his toes, Dick slammed a hand down to shut off the station, and bolted for the stairs. To heck with the reports. There was a plate of Alfred's Halloween cookies and a warm bed waiting for him, and he wasn't about to keep them waiting any longer. If it really was Bruce's spirit in the Cave, his dark, empty suit in its case seeming to stare sadly at the latest man to don the cape and cowl as he passed it on the way, well, the spirit would just have to forgive him for turning in early. It had been a long night, after all, and Dick could use some serious sleep.
~*~*~*~*~
Fandom: DCU
Characters: Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon (briefly), and a surprise
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,391
Prompt: For merfilly's Halloween Fic Exchange: Dick Grayson as Batman; For the 2009 DCU Free For All Autumn Challenge: Scarecrow Gas, Ghost/Spirit; For bradygirl_12's 2009 DCU Fic/Art Halloween Challenge: Ghosts, Costumes, Halloween Cookies, Gotham City
Summary: After a disastrous patrol on Halloween, his first in the cape and cowl, Dick has trouble shaking off Scarecrow and Ivy's special fear-spores. Or is it something else altogether?
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: Written for . Spoilers through Batman & Robin #1.
Echoes
Naturally, patrol on the night of October thirty-first had been a fiasco almost from the get-go. After a brief period of quiet during Gotham's annual Halloween Street Fair―nothing more dangerous than an early event for the kids, really―it had been all downhill. Dick had had to resort to calling in a few favors with the Birds to help get a handle on yet another breakout from Arkham, so perfectly timed it seemed like Joker and Scarecrow had been planning it for months, with serious backup from Ivy and her specially concocted spores. But these hadn't been the good kind, oh no. A heavy wave of fear-toxin-laden spores had paved the way for inmates to make their escape good and quick, with hardly a hand raised in resistance.
Dick still wasn't sure if the antidote cocktail he'd taken had been one-hundred percent effective, even after he'd shaken off the worst of hallucinations he'd rather not think about, but at this point, worrying over it wouldn't do him any good. Hours of struggling to get all the inmates back in their padded cells and locked down tight had left him utterly dragging, and he and Robin had practically limped back to the Cave to call it a night.
But the evening wasn't over quite yet, despite midnight being long past now. There were hefty patrol reports still to file, and Dick needed to check in with the Birds to see how they were faring after the long night out. Sending Robin―months after passing the title to the youngest Bat, he still wasn't used to calling him by that name―up to bed after hitting the showers to wash away any remaining fear-spores, he threw on a pair of sweats and a Gotham Knights t-shirt, and plopped down in the big chair in front of the Cave's computer to get started.
First things first. A single tap of a key, and he was connected to Oracle.
“Oracle, B. Everyone make it back okay?”
A short pause, and a faint click signaled the pick up at the other end of the comm. “Canary and Batgirl just got in,” came the mechanized voice in return. “Looks like they're all in one piece.”
“Good. Let me know if they need any more antidote, and I'll have it there in a jiffy.”
“No problem, B. Happy Halloween. O out.”
With the connection cut, Dick sighed softly to himself, “Happy Halloween, Babs,” and then it was quiet in the Cave.
The silence felt thick around him as he sat there a moment, gathering his thoughts before opening a new file to start his report for the night. Not even the bats far above seemed to be stirring at this hour, likely sated from their evening meal and settled in to sleep it off, but Dick couldn't help an anxious feeling, as if something else was moving about the Cave.
Which was simply ridiculous, since the Cave was locked up tight. It was probably the wind, maybe even a lingering effect of the fear-spores. He'd have to run a blood test to be sure, but that could wait a little while, at least until his reports were done.
A deep breath in, and Dick straightened in the chair, shaking off the oppressive feeling. He cracked his knuckles with a series of satisfying pops, and set to the new file.
Patrol Log: 10.31.09
1900: B & R began patrol at 7600 block of Downtown between Bay St. & Gotham Blvd. Halloween street fair in progress from 7500 block to 7200 block along Keane Ave. B & R worked from 76th St. to 71st St., crossing from Bay St. to Gotham Blvd. and back once per block. No sign of criminal activity. Repeated pattern three times over the course of the hour. Street fair seemed to go well. I encouraged R to head down and participate, but he refused, emphatically.
2000: Street fair began to wind down, B & R headed toward Gotham Park to sweep area from the 5300 block to the 4700 block between Gotham Blvd. and―
Dick stopped typing abruptly, his fingers stilling on the keyboard as the sense that something had breezed past him sent a sharp chill up his spine.
Fear-spores. Had to be.
Nevertheless, he turned to do a quick visual sweep of the Cave, peering into the shadows just out of reach of the harsh light that pooled around the platforms. Just shadows, nothing more.
Not that that affirmation settled the hairs that stood up on his arms.
Shaking it off with a hard jerk, he turned back to the computer.
...and Commerce Ave. Completed one block of the usual sweep, heard alert over GCPD band that Arkham breakout had begun. Summoned car. Contacted O for backup.
2015: B & R headed east in car, cutting through Gotham Park along 51st St. toward Arkham. Birds en route.
The sudden feel of warm pressure on his shoulder propelled Dick out of the chair with a flash of adrenaline, the report abandoned yet again. With a sucked in breath of utter alarm, he twirled in place and dropped to a fighting stance, eyed wildly seeking the source of the touch.
But nothing was there. Again.
And that just cut it. Nothing was getting done as long as Dick was still under the influence of those damned spores. Another deep breath, and he saved the file before heading up to the medical platform, watching his back warily as he went.
It was a quick matter to take the blood sample, just a stick and a squeeze of a fingertip, then a smear on a slide for the computer to analyze. Probably should have just done it as soon as he and Damian got in, anyway.
Of course you should have. You know the proper procedure for dealing with Ivy's spores.
Bruce's voice came to him unbidden... on his memory? Or―?
Dick shook his head.
No. He didn't just hear that out loud.
Trying to get a hold of himself as he waited for the results, Dick scrubbed a hand over his face and raked his fingers through his hair, slumping down into the chair in front of the med-computer station. “Get a grip, Grayson,” he muttered, scowling, even as a shiver worked its way up his spine.
Damn, it was cold in the Cave tonight. He probably should've put on a sweatshirt over his tee. Maybe should've picked out thicker socks, too.
But all his attempts to gather himself and shake off the persistent feeling of unease seemed to be for naught, as the feeling of what he could only describe as a hand gripped his shoulder again, firm pressure and a lingering squeeze.
Dick.
“No!” he shouted, despite himself, leaping from the chair and shaking himself. It had been Bruce's voice again, gruff and low, just as he remembered it, but... but so unbelievably close it had felt like the man was whispering in his ear.
And that was absolutely insane. Bruce was dead. Gone. Not here. Not―
Beep!
Dick whirled again, startled at the sound of the computer signaling its completion of the blood scan. He sucked in a hard breath, chest rising with it before he blew the breath out his nose more slowly. Just the alarm. It was just the alarm.
Stepping back to the station, he leaned close and scrutinized the results.
Negative.
It was all negative. No toxins, no spores, no... nothing.
Another shiver racked his body.
Everything will be fine, Dick. I promise.
A warm squeeze on his shoulder.
Straightening as a spike of adrenaline shocked him all the way to his toes, Dick slammed a hand down to shut off the station, and bolted for the stairs. To heck with the reports. There was a plate of Alfred's Halloween cookies and a warm bed waiting for him, and he wasn't about to keep them waiting any longer. If it really was Bruce's spirit in the Cave, his dark, empty suit in its case seeming to stare sadly at the latest man to don the cape and cowl as he passed it on the way, well, the spirit would just have to forgive him for turning in early. It had been a long night, after all, and Dick could use some serious sleep.
~*~*~*~*~