Dick Grayson one shots

Falling

A shot rang out, and a bullet cut through the night, clipping off the end of the cigarette as Dick raised it to his lips.

"You tryin' to kill yourself Goldie?" Came Jason's deep voice. "You know those things are addictive."

"I didn't think you cared," Dick replied, voice barely a whisper.

"Oh, I don't," Jason replied, missing the way Dick bit his lip and wiped at his eyes.

"It's just that if I let you start smoking then Bruce would probably have a hernia or something," Jason said. "He already acts like he has a stick up his..." he cleared his throat. "Nevermind that, but can you imagine him being even more... uh... more... just more... whatever."

Dick watched as Jason pocketed the rest of the pack he'd opened. "You smoke," he said.

"Ya, but I've already died once. It'll take more that a few chemicals to kill me again," Jason replied with a wave of his hand.

Dick's breath caught as he remembered the pill shoved into his mouth, being forced to swallow, and the darkness that had consumed his mind... he could practically feel Luthor's hand over his mouth... suffocating...

Jason's arm bumping against him as he sat down brought Dick back to the present.

"Besides," Jason was saying. "It helps me with the memories sometimes."

"I died too..." Dick muttered.

Laughter burst from Jason's mouth. "Sorry Goldie. Fake deaths don't count."

Dick bit back what he was going to say. The 'it wasn't fake' that was on the tip of his tongue. The thing he'd longed to tell all of his siblings... the thing Bruce should have told them.

"It's cute that you're trying to be brooding or whatever, but that act just doesn't suit you Goldie," Jason said. "Besides, I think Bruce has the brooding guy role already filled."

"Why am I never allowed to be sad?" Dick asked, almost too quietly for Jason to hear.

Jason scoffed. "What do you have to be sad about? Maybe if you actually had a reason to be sad you could be."

Tears slipped down Dick's cheeks.

"Stop being such a baby," Jason said, the sound of his disgust clear in his voice.

Why didn't anyone want to accept that beneath his shell of forced smiles Dick was broken?

—

Dick was doing better. He'd started seeing a therapist, someone who he could express how he felt to without any of the judgement or skepticism that his family had. The therapist had recommended that Dick get on a depression medication, which had helped him get to a stable and happier place.

Everything in his life seemed to be improving, and for the first time since spyral he felt like he was truly happy... of course that didn't last...

—

Dick was awoken by the sound of his window sliding open. He looked up to see Jason climbing into the room.

Jason's forehead was slick with sweat, and his hand was clamped over his side. He stood unsteadily for a moment once he was fully inside before falling to the ground.

Dick immediately rushed over to his brother and helped him to the bathroom where he started taking care of the bullet wound on his side.

Once everything was stitched, wiped, and wrapped up Dick helped Jason to his apartment's guest room where he tucked his little brother into bed before returning to his own room.