Dick Grayson One-Shots { requests open }

ow :'( pt 2

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𝗦𝗵𝗶𝗽 (𝗶𝗳 𝗮𝗻𝘆): n/a

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2880

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: pt 2 :)

𝗧𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: sewerslide, death, sh

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆: themicthatrmuses

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A torturous week had passed since anyone had heard from Dick. Bruce was sick with worry. He'd called every hospital within a hundred miles, spent countless hours out searching, and had every hero or villain he was the slightest bit acquainted with out looking. All of that and there wasn't even the tiniest hint as to where the boy could be. Bruce didn't know what to do. For what must've been the first time in his life since that night in the alley, he was useless. Everyone was.

Tim and Jason were angry. They were probably more angry than Bruce had ever seen the pair. They wouldn't even look at Damian. And, if they did, it was to spit some venom-laced insult. Bruce had half a mind to let it happen, but, ultimately, Damian was Bruce's child. And, most importantly, he was just that— a child. He was a child that grew up with no way to regulate emotions and control his outbursts. Bruce and Dick had been working with him on it, but it would take time to unlearn ten years of toxicity. That said, though, Bruce had several talks with Damian about how what he said was not okay in the slightest. He did try, however, to ease the child's guilt. Because, while not many could have seen it, Damian was inconsolable. He wouldn't give up no matter how hard Bruce tried to get him to take a break. He called Dick constantly, he sent thousands of text messages, and he even left a few tearful voicemails (not that Damian knew Bruce was aware of those). But, alas, the messages never went through and the calls were sent straight to voicemail. Dick was a ghost.

Or, at least, he was. That all changed, though, eleven days after Dick had run away. Bruce, along with Tim and Jason, was in the Bat-Cave, scouring the internet for any sign of his lost child. They'd been down there for hours, just as they had been every day since Dick had been gone. It was nearing midnight when Bruce's phone rang suddenly, disturbing the eery silence of the cave. Immediately, Bruce picked up with every ounce of his being praying to a god that he didn't even believe in that his baby boy was okay and waiting to come home. Unfortunately, neither of those things were true. In fact, it was rather the opposite.

"Where is my son?!" Bruce demanded, scaring a poor nurse right out of her skin. She stared at the tall man and three creepy children behind him before gulping and replying, "Please remain calm, sir. We'll do everything we can to help you. Can you tell me your son's name?"

"Richard Grayson," Bruce answered immediately, his skin buzzing with impatience. He wanted— no, he needed— to see Dick. He fumbled around in his pocket for his wallet before grabbing it and yanking out his ID. He slammed it down on the counter for the woman to see, "I'm Bruce Wayne. I have donated millions of dollars to this hospital, and the least I deserve in return is to see my child."

"Okay," the nurse nodded, typing quickly on the keyboard of her computer before pausing and reading the screen silently. After a moment, she looked back up to the man, "Room 201, Mr. Wayne. Just down the hall to your left."

"Thank you," Bruce hardly took the time to say before running off down the hall with Tim, Jason, and Damian trailing closely behind. Quite quickly, they reached the room labeled '201.' Bruce paused briefly, exhaling shakily before pushing the door open. He felt his heart shatter at the sight of his child. That grinning little circus boy that soared through the air without a trace of fear. The cheesy teenager that just wanted to make everybody laugh. The caring young man that dedicated every moment of his life to helping others.