Nightwing Oneshots

Robin

Robin

(I changed Robin's backstory)

⚠️PTSD/PTSD Attack | Mention of Self Harm | Flashbacks | Death⚠️

"It was just so hard," I muttered, clasping my hands together to stop them from shaking as I stared intently at the floor. "I mean, trying to step up and be a leader. All my life I've been trying to copy Batman... be Batman... but after being put in that position I realized I don't think I'll ever be able to be like him, let alone ever be him or step up to take his place when he-"

I cut myself off, pursing my lips and moving my eyes up to look at Black Canary. Of course, she couldn't tell, not with my sunglasses on, but she looked concerned. I could feel tears creeping up at the edge of my eyes and I cursed myself silently for being so weak.

"Listen, Robin," she said quietly. "You've been fighting alongside Batman since you were nine. You've gotten used to being on your own most of the time, and seeing people die can shake people up really bad. Take some time to yourself, the team won't be having missions for a little while due to what happened in the training session."

I simply nodded, got up from the couch, and left, clenching my fists so she couldn't see that they were still shaking. 

She was wrong on one thing. I had seen people die.

"Dick, run!" my mom screamed at me as I crouched by a building in the rain, shaking and crying as the stranger held her and my father at gunpoint.

"Why don't you stay a while," the man said, laughing manicly. "And enjoy the show."

There were two bright flashes, and I froze as I watched my parents limp bodies crumple to the wet cement below them. I cried out, turning to run away, when a dark figure fell from the sky and landed on the man, knocking him out. The mysterious man had a mask on and had a dark cape, and he held me gently as I sobbed into his cloak. 

"Robin!?" a voice shouted, making me snap back to the present and look over at the person who screamed my name.

Wally was standing in front of me, waving his hand in front of my face. He stopped and popped some popcorn in his mouth when I looked over at him

He looked concerned as he munched on it. "You alright, man? You're super pale!"

Tears slipped out of my eyes, and I just stared at him, thankful I had my sunglasses on. The memory was still fresh in my mind; a little too fresh. I thought I was over it...

"Oh my g** you're shaking," he murmured, setting down his popcorn. "What happened? Are you— Robin? Hey, where are you-?"

I couldn't stand acting so weak around him. I ran down the hallway, praying that he wouldn't follow me and that I wouldn't bump into anyone else. I hadn't had a PTSD attack for almost 3 years, but this one seemed to be worse than the last one I had. I burst into a random room and slammed the door shut, sliding down against it as a sob escaped my mouth. My entire body was trembling uncontrollably and I was sweating like crazy. 

Dick, run!

"Shut up..." I sobbed, trying to control my breathing and stop hyperventilating as I took off my sunglasses to wipe my eyes.

My throat felt like it was closing up and when I looked up, all I could see was that scene again: the man, holding my parents at gunpoint. Him pulling the trigger and them collapsing onto the ground. It felt like I was actually there again, like I was actually losing them again. 

The door I was against flew open, sending me flying across the floor and panicking as I came closer to my parents dead bodies. I couldn't stand looking at them; it was just going to make it worse—