Vigilante Justice - A Young Justice Fanfiction

Chapter 20: A Burning Encounter

Dick spent the first few days of his Griffin-imposed self-isolation completely asleep.

He'd managed to sleep through the rest of that day, an entire night, and the majority of the following afternoon.

Upon waking, he felt simultaneously amazing and like he'd just gotten taken out by a bullet train.

Groggily, he'd managed to drag himself out of bed and do some basic human things. Like eating. And peeing. And stretching that persistent kink out of his neck by doing handstands against his living room wall until all the blood rushed to his head.

Perhaps that last one wasn't quite so basic, but at least the stiff sensation in his joints was finally gone.

Then Dick had changed the bandages on his leg and arm, poked at the stitches as if the action would somehow make them heal faster, and promptly passed out on the couch.

Evidently, he was a lot more tired than he'd thought and his body was now aggressively punishing him for it.

Day three (or two? He was already losing track), he did some light training, stared forlornly at a stack of case files propping up the wobbly leg of his coffee table, and passed out on his bed.

Day four (three???) Dick cleaned his kitchen counter for the first time since he'd moved in, unsubscribed from a Gotham news site, had three beers and a suspicious looking ham sandwich, then renewed his subscription to said Gotham news site.

Alcohol made his willpower crumble and he really should stop buying it.

He did a considerably more intense fitness regiment—while still buzzing from the beers—and pleasantly noticed that his leg no longer felt like hell.

The regiment didn't tear any stitches either, so that was a plus.

Then, for the first time in an extremely long while, he'd actually done his nightly routine and fallen asleep before midnight.

It was a miracle. A sign of divine influence. Peace on Earth and all that jazz.

That is, until he started dreaming.

He was standing on a windswept roof, the smog above accompanied by the faint scent of rotting eggs cluing him in to the location of his surroundings.

Gotham. He was in Gotham, standing on top of the national bank in his Nightwing suit.

He'd technically never been to Gotham as Nightwing, but he was also technically asleep, so...dream logic.

Warm wind ruffled his hair as he scuffed the bank roof with a re-enforced toe. As far as his dreams went, this was shaping up to be one of the relatively tamer ones.

"You killed me."

The voice was young. Hoarse, like they'd been screaming.

He turned, heart sinking into his stomach when he realized who it was.

A young girl stood behind him, flames licking up the skirt of her tiny dress, skin red and blistered. "You killed me," She said again. There was a flickering orange ring in her gaze, like she was staring into a wildfire.

All the sudden, Dick knew who the girl was; someone he'd failed to save. A long list of many.

Too many.

He'd never learned her name, didn't know if any of her family had survived. Didn't even know if she was a real person or just a crude persona conjured up by his tired mind.

He blinked smoke out of his eyes—where was the smoke coming from? Was there a fire?—and suddenly she was in front of him, a burning hot hand clamped to his forearm.